rated M! You've been warned

"I'm the worst mother ever."

"Not true, love. You're a wonderful mum."

Killian poured his wife another goblet full of mead, and one for himself. God knows he needed it. His gut was still churning after that crazy bonding ceremony, or whatever the bloody hell it turned out to be. He sent a silent prayer to the heavens that whatever happened, his daughter would be safe.

"Tattoos, Killian. What kind of mother lets her five year old participate in mysterious magical ceremonies with unknown consequences? I'm such an idiot," she muttered, gulping the sweet honey liquor. He poured her another.

"The kind of mother who wants to keep her child alive. She's going to need all the help we can give her, Emma. We did the right thing."

Moriah was playing on the floor happily with a handful of elvish children, the new markings winding up her hands and arms. Dinner had been a lavish affair. They'd eaten better than they had since before their daughter was born. But it was only after the third goblet of mead that Killian began to relax a little. The tattoos didn't bother him as much as they did Emma, but it was still disconcerting to see his daughter sporting more ink than most of the pirates he knew. That they were beautiful markings was certainly true, but he ached at how her tiny, innocent body had been altered by magic. He wished they could shelter her from all this somehow, but magic had coalesced around his daughter since well before her birth.

Magic which no one exactly understood, it seemed. The Queen and her family continued to keep an eye on Moriah and her two new elf guardians. She tried to hide it, but it was clear that the details of the bonding ceremony had come as a shock to her as well. He noticed that Sæfara and Daínn both picked at their meals. The elvish woman in particular looked a bit green around the gills still. She kept darting looks at Moriah and at her fellow bonded elf, the latter of which she was certainly no fan of. It was all very, very weird.

"Have I ever told you, Killian Jones, how incredibly sexy you are?"

"Why, Emma Swan, I believe you're trying to seduce me."

His wife was leaning against his arm, her breasts brushing against it suggestively. Blood rushed from his head.

"It's not too difficult. We both know, I'm your type," she whispered, leaning in for a kiss.

"That you are, woman," he whispered, nuzzling her neck. He nibbled an earlobe and was rewarded with the stiffening of her nipples against him. He groaned and slid his arm around her waist, sliding a hand inside her shirt.

"What is in this WINE?" she asked breathily. "I feel like I'm on fire."

"It's been so long since I've had you properly," he whispered. "Let's sneak out of here for a moment."

"We can't leave Moriah."

"She's fine, love. Look, she's having a wonderful time with kids her own age, for a change."

"It is sweet, isn't it?"

He slid his hand lower.

"Killian, someone will see!"

No one was paying them any attention. The feast was well underway, the mead being poured liberally. Clusters of elves chatted and laughed, occasionally pointing at one of the humans in their midst. Elsa had left early to check on Arthur. The remainder of their small group of companions was scattered throughout the dining hall. Merida was turned away from Hic, seated to her right, to speak animatedly with Daínn, seated to her left. From the sour expression on Hic's face, he was not enjoying the festivities very much. He was downing goblets of mead and ignoring anyone who tried to speak with him.

"Come on," said Killian, pulling Emma with him. The hall opened out onto an enormous stone terrace facing the falls. The thunder of falling water was a muted roar in the background. Torchlights twinkled on the various terraces and outdoor grottoes that ringed the interior castle. Spying a dark garden, he darted into it. It was secluded and empty. Perfect.

His wife's eyes glowed in the moonlight, heavy lidded as though drugged. He watched, heart racing, as she slowly raised the hem of the shirt over her head, revealing her firm breasts in a lacy bra, nipples pressing stiffly against the fabric. More clothing followed until she stood barefoot in the grass, clad only in bra and panties. He stalked toward her, hardening with each step. She licked her lips in anticipation, and he lost control. Swooping, he lifted her up until her legs wrapped around his waist. Covering her mouth with his own, their honey-coated tongues tangled and slid over one another with abandon until she was moaning and grinding against him. He could feel the heat soaking through her panties. He needed her, needed to be inside her, now.

Backing her into the corner, he discovered a stone niche with a statue set into it. The ledge was at just the right height. Setting her down, she mewled in protest as he broke the kiss but purred when he knelt, unhooking her bra as he went. The leaves of the trees cocooning around them rustled and created shifting patterns of moonlight on her skin. Freeing her perfect breasts from their lace confines, he stood back to admire them, running the point of his hook over first one taut areola and then the other. When she moaned and arched her back, he took one in his mouth, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. She pulled him to her, gripping him tightly between her thighs. His cock strained mercilessly against his pants. He was always turned on by this woman, but something was different tonight. Was it the mead? He felt as though his blood had turned into liquid honey. He felt he'd never get enough of this gorgeous woman in his arms.

"I need to taste you," he gasped, breaking away reluctantly from a gorgeously pert nipple. Nipping it with his teeth, he sucked hard on it for one last moment before kissing his way down her body. Emma was writhing, parting her legs as wide as they would go. The pressure on his cock was unbearable. He stood and peeled off his clothing, not taking his eyes from his wife. She was watching him, lips parted. Her hand snaked down to tease her cleft through her panties, and his breathing grew ragged. His cock sprang free from its confines and he gripped it with a groan. A pearl of cum beaded on the tip, and he swirled it over the head as he watched Emma tweak a nipple with her free hand.

Kneeling in front of her again, he slid his hook into the band of her panties and eased them downward. She complied, helping him ease them off. They were very damp.

"Oh Emma, love," he said as she parted for him. He could see her core glistening in the moonlight. "So wet for me, so beautiful."

Delving between them like a starving man, he felt her legs come up over his shoulders. He touched his tongue to her clit with a delicate flick. She jerked around him, whimpering. He started again, lower, sliding it up her cleft slowly, delighting in the taste of her, in the sweet nectar that he could never get enough of.

"You taste so bloody good, woman," he murmured, lapping again at her clit. He lay his tongue flat against it, applying sucking pressure. She bucked against him, breathing raggedly. Her nails scratched against his scalp. He looked up to see her gazing down at him, crazed with passion.

"Killian, please," she begged.

Bringing up his right hand, he grazed her inner thighs with his fingers. He traced downward with agonizing slowness and chuckled when she lifted her hips, urging him onward. He slid two fingers home in her tight, hot core and was surprised to feel her shivering around him, coming already. He increased the pressure on her clit, sucking it between his teeth and rolling it against his tongue as he pressed in and out with his fingers.

"Killian!" she gasped, her legs tightening around his head like a vise. He kept up the pressure and the rhythm of his hand, until he felt her contract again, gushing against his palm with the force of a second orgasm. Finally she went limp. Kissing his way up her thigh, he looked up to see her smiling down at him lovingly. She stood, and he was gratified to see her wobbling a bit.

"That was amazing," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. He responded, running his tongue along her lips. Without warning, she pressed him backward onto the grass, using her weight to pin him down. His cock slapped against her abdomen as her breasts bounced tantalizingly in his face. He nearly came right then, but forced himself to close his eyes and breathe deeply, thinking about anything but the incredible woman on top of him. Nautical knots, 1-100, Jones: go! Her hair traced a feathery trail behind behind her wicked tongue as she kissed and licked her way down his body.

When she took him in her mouth, he'd only made it to knot 3, and promptly gave in. Cupping him gently, she stroked her tongue up and down his shaft before taking him completely in her mouth again. He bucked against her, thrusting. She felt he was close and backed off, straddling him. She sat poised above him, her hair shining silver in the moonlight. She took his breath away, just as she'd done since the start. Sinking down on him inch by agonizing inch, his wife held his gaze until he was sunk as deep within her as he could go, then she closed her eyes and began to move.

He could feel her excitement building in tandem with his own, but he knew he couldn't wait for her. His body was no longer in his control. He thrust and thrust, spiraling upward into a bliss that he'd only ever been able to find like this, buried in his wife. "Emma, love, yes!"

His climax took him like a cannon blast, obliterating his senses so that he was only dimly aware that she had cried out atop him, tossing her head back in pleasure as she came again, crying his name. When he came back to himself, she was laying atop him, the sweaty slickness of her breasts sliding against his chest and the stickiness of their lovemaking soldering them together.

He kissed her shoulder.

"Bloody hell. Whatever that wine is, we're taking several bottles for the road," he said. He loved the low chuckle in his ear. It had been too long since he'd heard his Swan laugh.

"Guess we should go back and warn the others. I guess elvish wine has interesting effects on humans."

"Maybe it'd be for the best. Let them get some of the tension out of their systems before we hit the road."

"You can't be serious, Killian! That's a terrible idea. Think of how awkward it's been so far. We have to keep traveling with all of them. It's only going to get more complicated if things change."

"Aye, you're right. But Hic and Merida could use a little push in the right direction, if you ask me."

"Maybe, but Elsa and Arthur?"

"Fair point, Swan. Those two are going to take a little more time, I suppose."

Emma sighed and got up reluctantly, wobbling. Smirking, she offered him a hand up. He was surprised to find he was none too steady on his feet, either.

"I don't know if it's you or the wine, love, but I'm missing my sea legs apparently."

"Hmm, maybe you just can't handle it, Captain," she said suggestively. It had been a joke between them ever since that first kiss in the jungle on Neverland.

"Or perhaps it's you who can't handle it," he replied, smiling as he leaned in for a kiss. "I love you, Emma Swan."

"I love you, Hook. Now help me find my panties. We need to go check on our pint-sized, tattooed pirate princess."