Earns an M rating this round. Continuation of yesterday's "Are You Drunk?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen like that," Killian gasps out. Emma's hands are trailing across his bare chest and her lips are sucking a mark onto the spot where his shoulder and neck meet.

"Like what?" she asks, but continues moving her lips across his collarbone and he can't quite remember if he was saying something. "What wasn't supposed to happen like that, Killian?" Emma asks again. Her hips push down against his again, and Killian's head drops onto the back of the couch.

"This. The whole thing. I meant to take things slow and court you properly. And then you kissed me and everything else-" Emma chooses that moment to strip off her shirt and anything else he has to say is gone because her lips are closing over his again.

Killian honestly has been biding his time with his beautiful coworker. They had a tentative friendship built off long hours in the office, and late night meals. It only took a few of these meals for Killian to realize he was developing feelings for the woman beneath the green eyes and blonde hair, with walls as high as his own. And so he had waited. He took his time inviting Emma to dinners, and suggesting movie nights when they didn't have to be at the office the following morning.

He had planned on making a move eventually, yes, but Emma had stolen the chance when he walked her to her door. His thoughts had wandered to the next time he could see her, whether it was just another day of work or a night in with popcorn and wine and Emma falling asleep on his shoulder. He licked his lips unconsciously, and the next thing he knew she was pushing him against the wall with her lips absolutely fused to his. Not that he could complain. He can't count the amount of times he's thought of a situation just like what happened outside her apartment door.

And now here he is, Emma straddling him and moving against him with the most delicious friction, and her lips are locked with his again. His hands find their way back to her back pockets and he pulls her down again and again, both of them building a rhythm.

"Killian," Emma moans out and if it's possible, he's somehow more turned on than he just was.

"Bedroom, or..?" Killian's throat feels raw, and the night is still young.

"No, here."

Her hands are everywhere at once after that: unclasping her bra before she shifts in his lap, hastily opening his pants and dipping into his boxers to touch him and he can't even keep up with what's happening. And then his focus pinpoints on Emma's right hand stroking along the shaft of his cock, up and down, up and down, and Killian's jaw clenches. He wants to move, he wants to do anything but he can't. He's powerless under her. He manages to open his eyes enough to see her face, the light shining in her eyes and the smug smile on her lips, and the bloody woman knows exactly what she's doing. She leans forward, her lips against his ear, and even there he can feel her smile against his skin.

"Come on, Killian," comes the husky whisper, and it's like someone's snapped a rubber band inside of him. His face is buried against her neck and her hair surrounds him, and even though he's not pleased at the mess across his stomach and her hand, he can't find it anywhere in his being to be upset at all.

"Bloody minx," he whispers into the curtain of her hair, and he can feel her chuckling.

"I just figured if we got the first one out of the way, we could take our time with the second one."

Killian's groan is lost somewhere in her mouth, mixed with her laughter once more.