Author's note: Second update of the week! I hope you enjoy it; my muse certainly did!

Disclaimer: Ha, yeah, right.

Chapter 10

"Thank you so much, Emma," Ruby said, tying on her apron. "I owe you big time."

Emma shrugged. God, she was tired. But she had the thought of Killian to sustain her. They'd only seen each other in class since Tuesday night; a couple of stolen kisses were all they could manage since Emma took the extra shifts for Granny when Ruby came down with a stomach bug. Between that and her school work, Emma was exhausted. But Granny granted her an unprecedented second Sunday off in a row as a thank you for helping out in a pinch.

Emma knew exactly how she wanted to spend that Sunday. In the arms of her secret boyfriend.

"Wasn't a problem," she said. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, loads. It really wiped me out for a couple of days; I wouldn't get too close."

Emma made a show of backing away, mustering a soft chuckle. "Duly noted."

"If you want to take off, I won't tell Granny," Ruby continued, changing out a coffee filter. "You deserve an extra hour."

Emma looked at the clock; she planned on going straight to Killian's after work. She didn't think he'd mind if she was early. The diner wasn't overly busy, about average for a Saturday night. "That would be great, Ruby, thanks."

"Don't work too hard!" Ruby called as she headed back to her locker. Emma rolled her eyes. If she had her way, she wouldn't be working at all. But Ruby didn't need to know that.

She changed out of her uniform and into a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie. She was too tired for anything more elaborate. All she wanted was to curl up in Killian's arms and take a nap. After food because she was starving. Emma rearranged some things in her bag, then shrugged on her coat. She didn't dial Killian until she was halfway to her car.

"Hello, love," he said, his voice like a balm on her tired soul.

"Hey. Doing anything interesting?"

"Possibly," he said cryptically.

"Oh, do I get to see?"

"Possibly." He paused. "You sound tired, lass."

"I am, a little." Her feet ached, her shoulders were a bit stiff. She remembered Killian's massage and nearly groaned at the memory of how good it felt. Maybe he'd give her another one?

"Still want to come over? We can wait..."

"No, I've got tomorrow off, special gift from Granny. I want to come over, Killian."

"Be safe driving then, lass. And I'll see you soon."

"Okay. Bye." She found her car in the garage and fired it up. It was pretty cold out in late October, so it took a good ten minutes for the old Bug to warm up. She slipped on some gloves and put the car into gear, taking the now familiar streets to Killian's house. He lived on the opposite side of town from anyone she knew, so it was unlikely that anyone would recognize her or her Bug.

Killian couldn't stop the smile when he heard the doorbell. He'd missed her over the last few days. Stolen kisses, while intense, were not nearly enough. He knew he would need to exercise patience, but he hadn't expected to need it so soon. He hurried to open it, his smile turning into a slight frown when he saw her.

"Oh Emma." She smiled wanly and stepped inside. She looked exhausted. There was some darkness under her eyes and it seemed like a bit of her light had dimmed. Killian pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing the door and pulling her close.

"Before you can even ask, I feel better already," Emma mumbled into his shoulder.

Killian stroked her hair. "You didn't have to come."

"I wanted to. I missed you." She raised her head, kissing his lips. "But I wouldn't say no to a quiet evening on the couch?"

He grinned at her. "I like the sound of that, love." He kissed her brow again and took her bag. "You go have a seat; I'll put this away. Beer is in the fridge. Pizza?"

Her eyes lit up. "Deluxe?"

"Excellent choice."

Emma shrugged off her coat and followed him, turning off to go to the kitchen. She got a bottle out of the fridge; of course, he'd gotten her favorite. She found the opener in one of the drawers, popping the lid off. She took a sip; it burned a little going down, but she didn't mind. She headed for the living room, slipping off her shoes and settling onto the couch. It felt so good to just sit.

"Long day?" Killian asked gently. He sat next to her, pulling her into his side.

"Long week."

"Hmmm. Pizza should be here in a bit. Can you stay awake?"

"You could always distract me," Emma teased.

"As much as I would love that, I want you with me, lass."

"What are we watching?"

"I was watching a replay of the match, but we can watch something else."

"A replay? Didn't you watch it live?"

"Aye, with my brother screaming over the ruddy laptop. Very early this morning." Killian laughed. Sometimes the time difference meant he was watching his beloved Red Devils at the veritable crack of dawn.

"Are you close? You and your brother?" Emma looked up at him, curious. She didn't have any siblings.

Killian looked thoughtful. "Not as much as we were. The distance and such." He didn't mention his frustration with Liam's over protectiveness and his own secret about Milah. Part of him wanted to tell her, but the other part wanted to leave Milah in the past. He didn't want her memory to poison what he had with Emma. "He and his wife are expecting."

"Yeah, you mentioned something about impending fatherhood."

Killian smiled. "Loves being in charge, Liam. Very headstrong. But so are his in laws. Kinda sad I'll be missing all the fun."

"Do you regret leaving England?"

Killian looked down at her, surprised. "No. I've grown rather fond of this place. And if I were there, I wouldn't be here with you."

Emma burrowed deeper into his shoulder. She needed to stay awake, for a little bit longer. But Killian was so warm and comfortable; it was a struggle. "Your place doesn't look very lived in though."

He laughed, his fingers rubbing her upper arm absently. "I'm a man of simple tastes, lass. To be frank, I spend most of my time in my studio."

"I would have never guessed that," Emma deadpanned, smiling up at him mischievously.

"It's certainly become a much livelier place in the last week," he replied. "Visitors, you know."

"More than one?" She knew he was teasing, but her body hummed in response. Even dead tired, she was drawn to him.

Killian toyed with some of her hair. "Just the one. But she's been on my mind for quite some time."

Emma swallowed, her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beat. "Who is she?"

"Blonde, feisty. Gorgeous green eyes, beautiful lass." He punctuated each description with a brush of his lips to her skin, chin, jaw, cheekbones. "What do you think I should do about her?"

They were leaning somewhat precariously, Emma's shoulder pressing awkwardly into the back of the couch. She shifted her seat, curling her hand behind his neck, pulling him with her as she fell back to the couch cushions. "You could start by kissing her."

Killian let out a little strangled moan; he knew she was exhausted, but he couldn't resist when she looked at him like that. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her slowly, thoroughly. Emma shifted under him, spreading her legs so he could press her deeper into the cushions. They groaned softly, Emma's fingers in his hair, flexing and bunching his shirt. Killian cupped her cheek, deepening the kiss. She sucked on his tongue, her heart racing. Just kissing him was enough to make her blood run hot; she didn't want to stop.

"Killian," she gasped when the came up for air. Killian skimmed kisses down her throat, a hand snaking up her hoodie.

"Shh, love."

Emma wrapped her legs around his hips. "Killian, please." She was getting wetter by the moment, especially when he realized she wasn't wearing a bra under her hoodie, his groan rumbling through her.

"Christ, Emma." He'd tried so hard not to want her; his hips ground into hers, his denim clad cock sliding over her heat.

"Hurry," she panted. Their dinner would be there soon, but it had been so long...cursing, Killian rose up, forcing her legs apart.

"Leggings, right now." Emma hastened to obey him, shimmying out of the tight material faster than he thought possible. Killian paused long enough to get the condom out of his back pocket (he decided to keep one there whenever Emma was around, just in case) before wrenching his jeans down to his knees. He caught sight of her glistening slit, her fingers sliding over the sensitive skin. Was she trying to kill him? Killian rolled the condom on quickly, then batted her hand away. "That's mine," he snarled.

"Prove it," she shot back, her green eyes nearly black.

Killian shoved a pillow under her hips, then pushed into her roughly. Emma cried out, dragging him down by his shirt and kissing him hard. It was frantic and needy, each knowing they didn't have long. Killian found her clit with his thumb and Emma shuddered. She wasn't tired anymore; all she could feel was the hot wet slide of him as he pounded her into the couch. Emma brought her legs over his shoulders, pleading...harder, faster. The angle changed and she screamed, coil threatening to burst any second.

"Yes!" It hit her abruptly, walls clenching around him, her vision popping with stars. Killian's strangled moan followed almost instantly, his hips still as he came.

Emma's legs fell down on either side of his hips; Killian's head rested on her heaving chest. She was far too hot in the hoodie but she didn't complain. She ran her fingers gently through his hair, as they slowly came down from their high.

"Am I hurting you?"

"I'm good."

"That was..."

"Good?"

"I was going to say unexpected," Killian said in a low voice. He kissed her chin. "But aye, very good, love."

"We should move. Pizza'll be here soon."

"Don't want to get caught without your knickers, lass?"

"Do you want me to get caught without my...knickers?" Her tongue rolled around the unfamiliar word.

Killian huffed. "Certainly not." He leaned up and stole one last kiss before standing up. He yanked his pants up enough to get to the kitchen to clean up, while Emma pulled her leggings back on. They were just in time too, as the doorbell rang. Killian went to answer it; Emma hurried upstairs to swap her hoodie for a camisole, tying her hair up for good measure.

She immediately felt better.

"Hmm, that smells good," she said, reentering the kitchen.

"Eat here or in front of the telly?"

Emma giggled. She was still getting used to some of his colloquialisms. "Do we have to watch soccer?"

"We can watch whatever you wish," he said, placing a couple of slices on plates. "And it's football."

"Football, soccer, same thing."

He pretended to look offended, but it didn't take. "Off with you. Go and find something to watch."

Emma grinned and snatched her plate, taking it back into the living room. She found his remote easily enough, switching off the DVR'd game and turning on the live TV. Killian had a lot more channels than she did, which made her a little jealous. "Oh! Winter Soldier is on!" She stopped immediately, sitting cross legged on the couch, plate in her lap and happily munched on her pizza. It was delicious.

"What'd you find, love?" Killian glanced at the TV. "One of those ruddy comic book movies?"

"What's wrong with that?"

He shrugged. "Didn't peg you for the type, that's all."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me yet," she informed him, patting the seat next to her. "And this isn't any old comic book movie. It's Captain America: The Winter Soldier."

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

Emma tried not to roll her eyes. Superheroes were her guilty pleasure; had been since she was a kid. One of her early foster homes had an entire room filled with comics, there to keep the kids entertained. She was too young to read many of the words, but she liked the colorful pictures. Her consumption of comics waxed and waned depending on where she was, but the interest hung with her. It was part of the reason she chose criminal justice as her major. Be a superhero in the real world. But she'd never told anyone that, not even Ingrid.

"Well, you really should see First Avenger first, but we can make it work," Emma said. She launched into a brief explanation as Cap ran by Sam Wilson over and over. Killian listened to her speak, noting the hint of passion in her voice. This was something that was important to her, even if he didn't precisely understand why. So he paid attention, soaking in every word, putting together another piece of the puzzle that was Emma Swan.

After their pizza, Emma curled back into his side, eyes on the screen. Occasionally, he asked her a question, trying to sort out what was going on. To his surprise, he was enjoying the film immensely; it a had depth he hadn't expected. He even got a bit choked up at one point, watching the fight between the hero and his long lost friend. Fortunately, Emma didn't see. She was too busy wiping away her own tears.

By the end, Emma's energy was flagging; she stifled a yawn. Halfway through the credits, she was out completely, her head on his shoulder. She'd warned him to stay until the end, so he waited, shifting her gently so she was more comfortable. After the final scene (a bit anti climatic, to be honest), Killian switched off the television and moved to pick Emma up. She stirred a bit as he carried her bridal style up the stairs, but all she did was bury her head into his shoulder.

He laid her down on his bed, yanking back the covers. "Easy there, lass," he murmured softly, as he coaxed her under them. "You go back to sleep."

"You coming?"

"In a few minutes. I'm going to clean up downstairs."

"Okay," she replied sleepily. She felt like she could sleep for days, she was so tired. But she craved his warmth.

"Be back soon." He kissed her temple and hurried from the room, running back downstairs to clean up their mess. Once everything was put away, he returned and stripped down to his boxers. He shivered in the late night chill but waited until he'd gotten the spare blanket from the trunk. Emma usually stole the rest during the night, so he knew to be prepared now. He laid it at the foot of the bed before climbing in after her. Emma rolled over and snuggled in beside him, a contented sigh escaping.

"Sweet dreams, my love," he whispered.

Emma woke up in a warm cocoon. Blankets were tangled between her legs; there was a solid wall of something against her back. It took her a minute to realize she wasn't in her own bed, but Killian's. He was pressed against her back, an arm thrown over her waist. She thought about going back to sleep, but it was fully light out; it peaked through the dark curtains. She yawned, her jaw cracking. Emma lay back but didn't sleep, just basking in Killian's warmth.

She had a vague recollection of him carrying her to bed, picking her up like she weighed nothing. Emma knew he was strong, but she never pictured him carrying her anywhere. It was nice. It was romantic. She wasn't used to romantic. But she liked it. A lot.

Eventually, nature called and she had to figure out how to disentangle herself without waking him. Killian stirred only slightly when she slipped from the bed. Emma padded to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

She felt much better than she had when she arrived the night before. She hadn't had a full night's sleep since Tuesday, staying up late to work on her homework after finishing at Granny's. Strictly speaking she didn't have to, but she wanted to spend the entire day with Killian without feeling guilty. She was going to have enough of that when Ingrid visited this week. She was taking Ingrid's advice, but Ingrid couldn't even know about it. Oh the irony.

Emma emerged from the bathroom, intent on returning to the fluffy bed. But a sunbeam caught her eye through a gap in the curtains. It fell on a book; Emma recognized it as Killian's sketchbook. Or one of them. She noticed he had more than one.

She plucked it from the dresser before she knew what she was doing, then felt guilty. What if he didn't want her to see? Sure, he'd been more than pleased to share his work with her before, but this was his private sketchbook. It felt a lot more like spying and she didn't want to spy on him. It could imply that she didn't trust him, when that was far from accurate.

While she agonized a loose page fell out. Emma stooped to pick it up. When she turned it over, she was stunned at what she saw. It was her. But it wasn't a pose she had ever done in one of his classes.

She was nude, of course. But this was a very erotic image; it actually made her blush. Erotic but tasteful at the same time; it didn't make her feel dirty at all. Her back was arched and her head thrown back, lips parted in a silent cry. When had he done this?

Emma slipped the page back inside, unable to quell her curiosity now. Nearly all the sketches were of her; she recognized some of them from class. Some were unfinished, just rough outlines, rubbed and scribbled out. She got a bit of charcoal on her fingers as she perused the pages, fascinated.

Killian woke, his hand sweeping the empty space where Emma had been. It was cold. "Emma?"

"Over here."

Killian sat up, blinking. Emma was standing by his dresser, his sketchbook in her hand. Oh god, he hoped she wasn't offended by anything in there. Or worse, creeped out. "Love?"

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked. But her question was gentle, not accusatory.

"About which part? That for weeks the only way I could sleep was doing little sketches of you? Or immortalizing you as a goddess?"

"What?"

Killian sighed, running his hands through his hair. It stuck up at all angles but he didn't care. "Bloody hell, lass. I was going to show those to you. Much later. I swear it. I just...this is so new, Emma. For both of us. I'm terrified of doing something to push you away."

Emma put the sketchbook down, coming to sit beside him on the bed. "I didn't mean to snoop." She covered his hand with hers. "But I love them."

"You...do?" The first time Milah had seen his sketches, she blew her top. Little did he know it was all a part of her charade.

"You're very talented, Killian. You should be doing more than just teaching."

"But I enjoy teaching."

"I know and you're good at that too. But these sketches..."

"I had an incredible muse," he said, thumbing the dent in her chin. "That's all you, Emma. What I see when I look at you."

Emma blushed. "Just think about it, okay? I mean, the ones of me...you know..."

"I can get rid of them."

"No! No, don't do that!" She didn't want to see his hard work go up in smoke. "May I have them?"

"Aye."

"And you don't have to stop," she added. "I told you you could sketch me whenever you wanted."

"Emma, are you sure? That's a pretty big carte blanche you're giving me."

She scooted closer, threading their fingers together. "I think...we're a lot a like. We know what it's like to get our hearts broken."

Other than that one time, Killian had never mentioned Milah to her. He didn't want to now, but Emma was right. They did understand each other, that pain. Enough to never want to go through it again. He gathered her against his chest. If he had any doubts before, then they were gone now. He was in love with her, this brave young woman who believed he was worthy of her.

"Having them broken means they still work, darling," he murmured softly. "A fact I am profoundly grateful for at the moment."

She smiled against his chest. "Me too."

It was later than Emma thought; they slept until nearly eleven o'clock. Killian made them brunch, even though she declared she didn't mind eating leftover pizza.

"So what was the secret project?" Emma asked, taking a bit of her quiche.

"Project?"

"When I called last night. I asked if you were doing anything interesting and it sounded like you made plans for us."

Killian shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. "Nothing that can't wait. We can watch more telly, if you want."

"What was it?"

"It's probably better to show you. But truly, Emma, I am content to simply spend time with you. We've had precious little."

Emma licked her lips. "We might not have a lot this week either. My mom's coming to visit."

His eyebrows shot up. "Your mother?"

Emma chuckled at the slightly panicked look in his eyes. "She doesn't know about us, calm down." She reached over for his hand. "My birthday is on Thursday; Ingrid's the first person I ever had to celebrate it with. After I went off to school, she decided to bring our celebration on the road."

Killian stroked the back of her knuckles with his thumb. "I'm glad you have that, love. But I will miss you."

"We'll see each other some," Emma reminded him. "And she leaves Friday morning."

"So are you saying we should make the best of today, lass?"

"I think I am. And I'll make all this up to you later."

"There's nothing to make up," Killian assured her. "We knew our time would be limited for the foreseeable future."

"Don't mean I have to like it." They went back to their food, demolishing the spread. Killian was quite a decent cook, much better than she was. She was good at grilled cheese and that was about the extent of it. It was a very domestic scene as they ate and cleaned up; Killian was surprised at how quickly Emma seemed to slip into the flow of his life, almost like she had always been there.

"May I see it now?" she asked.

He eyed her clothes. "Perhaps we should change first. Could get messy."

She arched a brow at him. "Messy?"

"Very hands on," he continued cryptically. He stepped into her space and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Would you be up for that, love?"

Emma ran her hands over his biceps. "I think you'll see that I'm up for almost anything." She grinned and stood up on her toes to kiss him. Her fingers carded through his hair as they made out in the kitchen, Emma resisting the urge to climb up his body and have her way with him.

He pulled away with a gasp, his cheeks flushed. "Let's get changed before I change my mind and take you back to bed."

"Not seeing a problem with that."

He groaned. "Don't tempt me, lass. Later, I promise." He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. Rather than mess up any of her clothes, Killian gave her another set of his. He had to hide his grin as she painstakingly rolled up the sleeves so she could work. Once they were changed, they headed back down to his studio.

"Killian, what...oh." Emma's eyes widened as she caught sight of the worn potter's wheel, sitting in the middle of the space. "Is this yours?"

He nodded. "It is now. Got it second hand, but it works. I thought we could try our hands at something."

Emma walked around it, almost afraid to touch it. It was old but appeared sturdy enough. The bench wasn't quite big enough for two, but...she shook her head. "I'm not artistic, Killian."

He came up behind her, hand running down her arms and lacing their fingers together. "Perhaps you are and just don't know it yet." He kissed her cheek. "I would be right there with you, love. Just like this." He slowly raised their joined hands, his bigger ones manipulating her fingers.

The feel of his warm body pressed against her back sent a shiver down her spine. "You like it because it's intimate."

He chuckled. "Well, that is one perk, I'll not lie. But there is a rush at creating something with your hands, whether it's a sketch or a painting or sculpture. I can show you want that feels like, Emma. If you want."

"You'd share that with me?"

The catch in her voice made his heart break. "I'd share everything with you." Christ, he was such a fool, blurting things out like that. But he also wouldn't deny her the truth. And the simple truth was he loved her.

Emma blinked back tears, touched at his words. The depth of her feelings for him scared her, but she knew she'd regret it if she ran from them, from him. Wasn't Ingrid always warning her about living her life with regrets? She trusted Ingrid; she trusted Killian. She just had to trust herself. "Show me?"

Killian hugged her tightly from behind. "As you wish."

Emma watched, slightly bemused, as Killian gathered all the supplies. He really had planned this for a while; he had things Emma would have never thought of. He grinned as he pressed a smallish piece of clay into her hand. "Ever watch Elsa?" he asked.

"Nope. What do I do?"

"Well, first we need to get the air bubbles out." He led her to his work table, showing her how to knead and squish the heavy clay. It was fun, throwing it down on the table, passing it between them, teasing each other. When the clay was ready, Emma quickly washed her hands and pulled her hair back. She didn't want it to get in the way. Killian dried the wheel and got an extra stool, so he could sit more comfortably behind her. When she returned, he had their little ball of clay sitting in the middle.

"Have a seat," he said, grinning. Emma smiled tentatively and did so, breathing easier when he slid in behind her. "No need to be nervous, darling. I'll be right here the whole time."

"Who says I'm nervous?"

"You're shaking." He peppered her exposed skin with kisses until she calmed down. "I haven't done this in quite a while, so we'll go slowly, okay?"

Emma exhaled. "Okay. What are we making?"

"We'll stick with something simple. Perhaps a vase?"

"You're the artist."

"This time it's both of us, lass. You'll see." Gently, he took her hands and showed her how to mold the clay to make it ready for spinning. She had a deft touch, as Killian was already aware. She managed to play his body like an instrument every time she touched him. He whispered encouraging words in her ear, pleased when she relaxed.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Emma smiled. "Yeah, I am."

"Now this next bit can be tricky, so just watch me, yeah?"

"Okay." She was closest to the pedal so she started the wheel spinning as he wet the clay and started to manipulate it. She didn't ask what he was doing; she could feel his concentration in the feel of him against her back.

"Alright, wet your hands, lass. Then we can get started."

Emma dipped her hands in the small bucket, remembering not to shake them off. Killian did the same before guiding her hands back. Together, they worked the clay, Emma keeping the wheel spinning at a steady pace. She wondered when they'd get to the hard part, but Killian seemed content to take his time, soaking their hands as needed.

"Don't take your eyes off it," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Emma shivered, warmth pooling in her belly. "We're just getting started."

"It still looks like a blob," she said softly.

"It won't soon. Patience, Emma."

"Haven't you noticed how impatient I can be?" she teased quietly.

"A trait I am very fond of," he reminded her. His low voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her back. "As it led to a very interesting encounter on my couch."

Emma exhaled, trying not to squirm. "You started it."

"You begged me to kiss you." To remind her, he placed a lingering kiss on her neck. "Which is never a hardship."

"I missed you," she replied, her voice breathy. While they talked, Killian had created a hole in the spinning clay; it now looked vaguely like a cylinder. "I missed us."

Killian scooted closer; she was firmly between his legs now. "I missed us too, darling." Gently, he took her hands, wet them again and together they began to mold the cylinder into a more artful shape. It was difficult for her to focus, his warmth soaking into her skin, his breath on her neck. Occasionally he kissed her exposed neck, murmured sweet nothings into her ear.

"Killian..."

"Hmmm?"

"Are you...paying attention?"

"Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"I have the most delightful view down your shirt," he admitted. "I may be imaging touching you instead of this clay."

"Tell me." Her arousal was given; it was impossible to watch those strong sure hands move over the soft clay and not want him. She wanted him to touch her, craved him touching her.

"Bloody hell." He bit down on her neck where it met the shoulder, a groan spilling from his lips. "I want you everywhere," he whispered. Like he was spilling some deep dark secret. "In my bed, in this studio, my office desk. So many places, so many different ways. I love watching you move, Emma." He nudged her leg; she almost let the wheel stop spinning. "I dreamt about you so much; it was driving me mad."

Emma whimpered, trying to keep her eyes on the spinning wheel. "More."

"It's never been like this," he continued. "Never felt like this. Do you feel it, Emma? When I touch you, when I'm in you? Please, love. Tell me."

She nodded, not sure she could articulate the things he made her feel. "I feel it," she bit out. "God." She rocked her hips; he was hard against her lower back. "Need you, Killian."

"Stop the wheel, lass." Emma stepped off the pedal, already turning her head to kiss him deeply. She knew now why they needed old clothes, as he picked her up bodily and spun her around to face him, settling her in his lap. Emma attacked his lips, wantonly rolling her hips. The entire thing had been very erotic and she was very turned on. Killian's hands palmed and squeezed her ass as she rocked in his lap

"Fuck, you're so hot," he mumbled, thrusting his hips up. "On fire for me, Emma."

"Yes, yes," she said, gripping his shirt with dirty hands. She wanted to feel his skin, feel it burning alongside hers.

"Bedroom?"

As much as she wanted to ride him right where they were, the condoms were in the bedroom. "Hurry," she agreed. He stood up, Emma clinging to him, arms and legs tight around his neck and waist. She peppered whatever skin she could reach with kisses, unwilling to stop touching him. He threw her down on his bed with a bounce, crawling in after her. Their clothes were filthy, most of the wet clay transferred there as they pawed at each other.

Killian made quick work of her shirt, his mouth closing on an aching nipple. Emma keened, dragging his hands to her pants. "Clothes. Off," she panted.

"So impatient," he growled softly. "Tell me what you need."

"I just did!"

"Aside from that."

"Ugh! Just fuck me, Killian!"

"We're not leaving this bed until I've had my fill of you," he warned. His hand slipped under the elastic, fingers rubbing the soaked fabric of her panties. He teased her, licking the curve of her breast, kissing the valley between them. "Is that what you want?"

"Please!" She didn't care, she just needed him to touch her before she combusted from the heat. Killian extricated his hand and yanked her borrowed pants off, then her panties. Before she could do the same for him, he spread her legs and ducked his head between them, tongue lapping at her core. "Shit!"

It was good Killian was only wearing some old sweats because he was hard as a rock, listening to her pleas for him to just fuck her. He wanted to, desperately. Controlling his body's reaction to her was supremely difficult, maintaining enough control to make it good for her his goal. He kept her spread, her sweet pink cunt dripping with her arousal. He licked her slit, over and over again, sucked her clit into his mouth. Emma's hands fisted in his hair, pulling hard, trying to keep him stationary.

"Killian...fuck...don't stop," she panted, hips rocking. He held her down with his free hand, plunging his tongue inside her hole. Emma screamed, trying vainly to buck her hips. But Killian was stronger, holding her firmly, tonguing her until she saw stars. She panted, sagging into the mattress, shivering with aftershocks from her orgasm.

Killian kissed the inside of her thighs, her trembling stomach, mumbling nonsense into her skin. He crawled up alongside her, shimmying out of his sweats, stripping off his shirt, leaving him completely nude. Emma moaned softly as he stroked her damp skin and eased her onto her side. He kissed down her spine, hand massaging her breast. Emma's back arched, more wetness settling between her thighs. She was burning up, needing to feel him moving inside her.

"Killian...oh my god..."

"Soon, lass, very soon." He sat up long enough to snag a condom from the drawer, then came back. His cock ached, the flesh red and throbbing, desperate for friction. He pulled Emma back against his chest, cock cradled against her ass. He thrust experimentally, making them both groan. "Jesus."

Emma reached behind her, hand sliding over his bare hip. "Please...oh god."

He was already rolling the condom on, unable to wait any longer. He had to feel her. He lifted her right leg up, cock nudging her slick entrance. Emma moaned his name as he slid inside, her body welcoming him. They were content just to rock, easing into a slow rhythm, a contrast to their earlier frantic need. Emma turned her head, lips finding his in an awkward sloppy kiss.

"Is this what you wanted?" he murmured in her ear.

"God yes." Emma circled her hips as he thrust into her; the angle was threatening to burn her up from the inside out. "Harder, Killian, please."

"Like this?" He pulled nearly all the way out then snapped his hips hard into hers.

"Yes! Yes!" This was an entirely new experience for her, having a lover that wanted to know what she liked. It was a discovery process for her as well, learning new things that she liked. He set a new rhythm, hitting her deeply, making her cry out. Emma fumbled blindly for his hand, dragging it to her clit, urging him to rub her.

"Come on, love. Let me feel you. Feels so good when you come around me." He was perilously close to his own orgasm; she was too hot, too tight, too wrecked and needy for him hold out much longer.

Emma buried her face in the mattress as she screamed, the stimulation too much. Her body was suffused in bliss, trembling hard. Killian gave in, murmuring her name over and over as he went rigid, spilling himself deep within her.

Emma could feel Killian's heart pounding against her back; he made no effort to move, aside from lowering her leg. They lay there quietly, listening to the sound of their ragged breathing, hands still entwined. At length, Killian kissed the back of her neck and got up to head to the bathroom. When he returned, Emma was curled up on what was becoming her side of the bed. Her eyes were closed.

"Emma?"

"I'm awake. You joining me?"

His smiled flickered as he climbed in next to her. He pulled the light sheet up to their waists; Emma scooted closer. His girl was a cuddler, it seemed.

"Still with me?"

"Yeah. Don't you need to do something with that...whatever we made?"

"In a bit," he replied, stroking her hair. He had a feeling Emma would probably doze off for a little bit; he could take care of things then.

"Did it turn out okay?"

"Were you not paying attention?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Why do you think I asked if you were?"

"So I see. Did you enjoy yourself?"

She stretched, yawning. "Yep. And the pottery thing was fun too."

"Minx."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, love."

"How'd you get the scar on your cheek?"

His brow knitted in confusion. "You want to know about my scar?"

"Isn't that something couples do, ask embarrassing personal questions?"

"So we're a couple now?"

"Are you avoiding the question?"

Killian shook his head. "Just trying to get my bearings, lass." He looked thoughtful. "It's a silly story. I was little, about three or so? I used to watch my father shave every morning and I...may have decided to try it for myself. Cut myself with a straight razor. At least, this is the story Liam tells me about how I got it."

Emma traced the mark with her thumb. "What about your dad?"

Killian sighed. "Left when I was seven or eight. It was just Mum, me and Liam after that. Mum died when I was in high school."

"I'm sorry."

"Liam looked after me until I was old enough to look after myself. I went to art school and didn't look back. Mum would have liked that, I think."

"It's good that you have your brother though."

"Aye, Liam's great when he's not being an overprotective overbearing arse."

Emma laughed. "You want to ask me something?"

"Is that how this works?" Emma rolled her eyes, smacking him lightly on the arm. "Oi! Okay. Uh..." There were a million things he wanted to know about her, but he settled for something simple. "What's your favorite place?"

"Favorite place?"

"Aye, like a place you go to think, clear your head."

"I...don't know if I have a place like that." She frowned. "But I do love the ocean. I've only been there a couple of times though."

Killian grinned. "I must admit to being fond of the ocean as well, love."

"I thought so."

"You did?"

"I love that ocean painting you did. I saw it and thought it could only have been done by someone who got the appeal."

"I guess that's something more we have in common."

"It sucks that it's too cold to go now."

Killian kissed her brow. "Perhaps in the spring, lass." They wouldn't have to hide then; they could be a couple, a real one. For now, they would enjoy this.