It's mid-morning by the time Emma wakes, content and warm and still wrapped in Killian's arms. It's chilly in the bedroom, and she buries her shoulders under the blankets to ward off the cold while mumbling an incoherent jumble of words that may have been good morning.
Killian chuckles, a low noise Emma can feel in his chest. His hand slides down her back, cupping her backside and giving it a playful squeeze. "Indeed," he says quietly, his hand sliding up her back once more to tangle in her hair.
He's been awake for some time, listening to Emma's evening breathing and luxuriating in the bare skin and beautiful woman pressed to his side. It's been a struggle to keep still, snippets of their evening running through his mind on a loop.
He truly doesn't know which he wants more – to just hold her, to know that she's becoming a piece of him…or to wake her fully, entice her into another round, because now that he's had her, once will never be enough.
It's likely that he's never going to get enough.
"Do you have to work today, love?" he asks softly, loathe to break the quietness of the morning.
"Mmm, no. David usually gives whoever gets stuck with night shift two days off after. You?" She's trying not to sound too hopeful, but all she wants is to spend the day in bed with this man, to not leave the sanctuary of this apartment. There's still so much unsaid between them, but she wants this day, this one day, to just be happy.
Killian grins at hearing the note of longing in her voice, his arm falling to her waist and tugging her closer. "I do not."
"Perfect." It takes little more than a nudge on his part, and Emma's body is sprawled across his, all warm skin and bottomless green eyes looking up at him. She traces a path down his chest, her touch light, but she never looks away. "Whatever will we do with ourselves all day?" Her tone is filled with innocence, but she's circling one of his nipples as she says it, dragging her nail just enough to send a jolt of sensation through him.
"An excellent question, that."
Emma grins in response, stretching forward to press her lips to his. The kiss intensifies quickly, and she isn't surprised when his hand settles on her ass, pressing her hips into his. If she moves just right, he'll slide right into her, but Emma isn't ready for it to be over yet. She was half asleep last night when they started, and she wants to enjoy every sensation, from start to finish.
She drags her nails down the sides of his ribs, lightly enough that goosebumps rise in her path as she sinks down her body, kissing and nipping at the exposed skin. There's scars here and there along his chest, some likely from the accident, but others with stories she hasn't heard yet. Emma wants to know, one day, where each and every ding and dent came from along the way.
But today she just wants to kiss him. She wants to hear the way his gasp turns into a groan of pleasure as her lips wrap around him, feel the tightening of the muscle in his thighs as she winds him tighter and tighter. It's a rush to have this power over him (though she's not even bothering to pretend he doesn't wield the same over her).
She can feel his fingers tightening in her hair, the way his grip becomes almost too tight for a fraction of a second before he forces himself to relax, his fingers going slack against her cheek before the process starts all over again.
He tries to flip them over, to press her into the mattress as she pulls back, knowing she's left him with his toes at the edge but unable to jump. His breathing is ragged, his eyes impossibly blue as she presses lightly on his shoulders to keep him where he is. He's about to protest, she can feel it in the way his grip tightens on her hip, but she ignores him.
It's her turn.
"Bloody…hell…" It's a curse and a moan all wrapped in one as Emma sinks her body onto his, hands resting on his shoulders for balance. It's an exercise in self-control not to end it for them both right there, but he manages, closing his eyes before the sight of her bare body and tousled hair moving over him does him in.
But it doesn't stop him from touching her, from running his hand along the curve of her hip and her waist. He needs her closer, to feel more of her, and she cries out as he sits up, changing the angle and making it just that much more intense as his mouth descends on her breasts.
Emma tries to draw it out, because of all the men she's been with, it's just never been like this. She hasn't told him her secrets, but it's almost like she doesn't have to – Killian just sees her – he sees beauty in the pieces that she's cobbled together. He sees beauty, and he still looks at her with his eyes on fire with lust, and he still makes that noise he's making now, a strangled curse that he can't even get out because he's so lost in her body.
She comes apart in his arms, her entire body tensing with pleasure before she is struggling to keep herself upright, lost in a haze of it. It's only then he has his way, rolling her onto her back and plunging into her with deep, hard strokes that send Emma off the edge a second time as he cries out her name and buries his face in her hair, panting as his body goes boneless.
"You definitely always sleep naked," Emma whispers in his ear, happy and content and well-sated. "Always."
He chuckles, rolling to his side and leaning to kiss her, his thumb sliding along her cheek. "Of course, love. As do you."
"We may need more blankets in the winter."
"Is that a challenge?" He raises an eyebrow at her, a smirk appearing. "Seems to be a challenge."
"If I say yes?"
"Are you cold now?"
She pauses, just long enough that he knows the answer before her expression lights up with mischief. "Yes, I'm freezing." She even adds a shiver, or a poor imitation of one. "Blanket?"
He doesn't answer, instead pressing another kiss to her mouth. One kiss turns to more, and they're both sweating by the time they're through, struggling to catch their breath.
"I suppose that will do, too," Emma teases, running her fingers through his damp hair. She's deliciously sore, but it doesn't stop her from pressing close to him, from feeling his body along the length of hers. "Though I'll probably need to make do with a coat and gloves when we go out."
"Do you require a trip outside this apartment today?"
Emma shakes her head with a grin. "Nope."
"Then there shall be no coat and no gloves. Perhaps no clothes at all, hmm?"
"Perhaps." She kisses him once more, pulling back slightly. "Though, there will be breakfast. I'm starving."
"Me too," he replies, but the look in his eyes doesn't have anything to do with food, and she knows it.
"Insatiable."
"Only for you." He releases her reluctantly, admiring the view as she gets out of bed and stretches to reach the shirt hanging on the closet door. The realization that it's his shirt is deeply satisfying as he watches her do up two or three of the buttons, leaving plenty of her skin on display. "Would you like some help?"
"It's a tiny kitchen, but sure."
He's more in the way than a help, but Emma doesn't mind. It's nice to have him there, to lean back into his chest as she flips bacon, to feel his fingers slide under the shirt and over her waist. He can't stop touching her, whether it's an innocent caress or a more intentioned touch, and Emma finds she rather likes it. Usually she's not like this – she doesn't like to be touched, constantly.
But Killian isn't like the others. She doesn't feel like he's invading her space, or like he's trying to somehow assert ownership of her. He just wants to be near her, to breathe her in, the same way she doesn't even want the scent of his skin to leave hers.
And it won't, at least not today. Emma drags some quilts into the living room, and they curl up together, barely dressed, but warm and snug as they watch movies and explore each other. They nod off in the late afternoon, a tangle of contented limbs on the sofa, and Emma wakes to a dark apartment, the TV screen gone black.
Her phone buzzes on the floor next to them, and she grabs it, wondering if that was the noise that woke her in the first place. Killian's awake now too, but reluctant to admit it, burrowed into the quilts with her as he is.
There's a series of messages from David that started hours ago, and Emma frowns as she scrolls through them.
I talked to Ruby. Call me.
Emma, c'mon. You need to talk to me about this. You don't know anything about this guy, and now he lives with you?
Where are you? This isn't funny. Call me back.
I'm getting worried. This isn't like you not to answer. If he hurt you, he's going to pay for it.
Mary Margaret says I'm overreacting. Maybe I am. Could you just call a guy?
The last message is time stamped from two minutes ago, and Emma sighs, shaking her head. The last thing she feels like doing right now is calling David back, but she's already learned the hard way how he can be when he's convinced himself she's in harm's way.
But hell if she's moving from her comfortable spot on the couch as she does it.
"I have to call my brother back," she explains to Killian, kissing him lightly. "He's got himself all worked up over nothing."
"Over me." Killian, perceptive as always, reads her like a book. She sees it then, the flicker of doubt and insecurity, before the sleepy expression begins to harden. "I can just…"
"You can just stay right where you are." Emma puts the phone down, her palm against his bearded jaw and her eyes locked onto his. There's fierce determination in her eyes, and for just a moment, he sees the lioness in her, the protective instinct and the fight. "You're staying."
He nods, unable to form words to adequately express the rush of emotions her declaration brings on. He's not sure when he's going to be able to fully believe her, to not second guess it, but he hopes it's soon.
Emma watches him for another long moment before reclaiming her phone and pressing send.
David answers right away, and launches into a lecture. Emma is only half-listening to him as he rants and raves, Killian's fingers twisting through her hair. She knows David will calm down in his own time, and that a majority of his current problem is not being able to get a response from her for hours. He's right. It's not like her to not respond right away.
So when he finally stops, when he finally realizes he's being going for a good, long while without pausing to let Emma speak, she takes the opportunity she needs. "I'm happy, David," is all she says, Killian's hand stilling in her hair as she says it. "I'm happy and that's all you need to know right now."
And just like that, David deflates. He sounds embarrassed by the time they hang up, and Emma can hear Mary Margaret's I told you in the background as she sets down her phone.
Killian is staring at her, a curious expression on his face of awe and lust.
"What?" Emma can't help but ask, smoothing her hair back self-consciously. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You're a bloody marvel," he whispers, pulling her back down to him.
Emma doesn't have any more questions that night.
Tried to post this hours ago but ff had other ideas! Hopefully that's the end of that...