Note: Since I'm a smut-writing newbie, OnceUponSomeChaos was nice enough to beta this (even though it contains her biggest pet peeve of all, LOL). If it still sucks, it is despite her best efforts. Note that the rating has gone up! If smut isn't your cup of tea, I suggest jumping to the last section, which will hit the highlights before the next part.

Hook didn't give her a chance to catch her breath, pressing her firmly against the door with his body as he pulled back from the kiss, nipping her bottom lip. She gripped his shoulders as his lips skated down her neck. His hand slipped under her shirt, sliding across her skin, back to front, before tugging at the hem.

Breathing hard, she helped him pull it over her head and sent it sailing again. Instead of touching her right away, he paused and mapped her bare skin with his eyes like he was trying to memorize her. Her stomach twisted again, but she shook it off, grabbing his hand and bringing it to her breast.

"Touch me," she said softly.

"Patience, love," he said, smirking, cupping his hand around her breast before lowering his mouth again to the other.

As he laved one breast, and then the other, she dragged her nails over his shoulders, finally pushing him back and impatiently tugging his coat off, tossing it on the floor. She opened the few clasps he actually had fastened on his shirt and ran her hands up his firm chest under the fabric, circling her thumbs around his nipples.

She pulled him into another kiss, as he backed her toward the bed, giving her a gentle shove onto the mattress. She inched back on the bed, motioning for him to join her. He shook his head, tugging off her boots and making quick work of her jeans, leaving her in nothing but her black lace panties.

"Emma," he whispered. "My Swan. Gods, you're beautiful."

She shook her head, more at the idea of being called his anything than at the compliment. She couldn't recall if any man had ever looked at her the way he was, like she was precious, and it thrilled and terrified her at the same time.

He knelt next to her on the bed, running his hand up her thigh, and she shivered at the contrast of his warm, callused flesh and the cool, smooth rings. She held her breath as he trailed the curve of his hook gently up the other thigh, grazing her core through her panties and slipping just under the top edge of the fabric. Smirking up at her, he yanked, ripping the lace off her body.

"Hook," she said, her voice wavering, "you are wearing too many clothes."

She reached for his pants, but he batted her hands away. "Not yet, love."

"But —" Any argument she was about to make went straight out of her head as he touched her center, fingers teasing her folds.

"So wet for me, Emma," he said, his voice thick, his heated gaze focused on where he touched her. "You're bloody amazing."

It suddenly occurred to her that she had very much lost control of this situation.

Not that she was complaining.

He pulled away and settled over her, bracing himself on his arms, and kissed her, mouth trailing down her neck and returning to her breasts. She arched into him and clutched at his shoulders as he slowly moved down her body, laying hot, open-mouthed kisses between her breasts, over her belly and her hip, along her thighs, so close to where she wanted him but never quite there. He murmured words against her skin, too quietly for her to hear, and she was almost glad she couldn't.

"Hook," she moaned, trying to tilt her hips just so to get him to touch her or kiss her or for God's sake do something where she needed him.

He huffed out a laugh, and his breath alone made her shiver. He pulled her hips near the edge and draped her legs over his shoulders as he knelt beside the bed. His hooked arm rested across her belly as he licked her in one long, slow path, tongue barely grazing her clit. Before she could even get out the whimper forming in her throat, he slipped a finger inside her, curling it just right before pulling it out and adding another.

"Have you wanted this as I have?" he asked roughly, mouthing at her inner thigh, making her hiss as he nipped hard at the skin. "Remember me, love; remember this."

She couldn't even form a response because of the way his fingers slid inside her. Just when she decided nothing had ever felt so good, he made it even better, tonguing circles around her sensitive bundle of nerves. She twisted one hand in the quilt under her and one hand in his hair, her breath coming in pants and hips bucking under his arm as he sucked hard, right where she wanted him, fingers still curving inside her. Before she knew what was happening, she was over the edge, Hook's mouth still on her, soothing her as she came back down.

"Holy shit," she murmured, when she finally found her voice. She forced herself to release her death grip on his hair and started to sit up.

With a self-satisfied smirk, he slid a final kiss over the bite on her thigh, then helped her settle back on the bed. She watched under hooded eyes as he stood, shedding his shirt and twisting off the hook, tossing it aside. She supported herself on her elbows and watched as he hesitated over the arm brace.

"Keep it on if you'd rather," she said softly. "But I'd like to see all of you."

After another moment's hesitation, he slipped the buckles off and let the brace fall, too. He was out of his boots and pants in no time, returning to her side. She licked her lips, eyes running over him. He was beautiful, really; his muscled form spoke of hard work rather than hours in a gym, and a scattering of scars reflected years of hardship. She wanted to know each and every one, to touch and taste them and hear the stories behind them. To know him. He seemed to hover beside her, uncertain, so she sat up and grabbed his necklace, pulling him closer. She itched to touch him all over, but she started by trailing her hand down his bad arm.

Her fingers gently traced the scars along the stump, and she sighed, feeling his head tilt into hers. "Does it hurt?"

"Not for years."

She didn't know what to say. I'm sorry that happened to you sounded lame even in her head, so instead of saying anything, she cupped his face and pulled him into a kiss. It was sweet, chaste even, which seemed ridiculous considering his face and fingers had just been buried between her thighs.

"Emma," he murmured. "Emma …"

She knew how he felt, even if he'd never said the words, but she was suddenly desperate to avoid hearing them. He would forget it all tomorrow, but she never would. "Don't overthink this, Hook," she said. "Don't … just be with me."

"I think, considering the circumstances, you might call me by my given name," he said.

It was a simple request, but there was something so intense about the moment. She was overwhelmed; it was all more than she felt she could handle. "What was that, again?" she asked lightly. "Howard? Bob? Methuselah?"

"Swan."

"Hmmm, no, that's my name," she teased, leaning back on the bed and dragging him down after her by his necklace again, settling him between her legs. "Of course I remember your name, Killian Jones."

She sucked his bottom lip, releasing it to brush a kiss over his mouth. His breath stuttered as she reached down to stroke his hard length, thumbing over the tip. "Are you all talk, or what, pirate? I need you inside me now, Killian. Give me something else to remember."

With a growl, he pushed her hand away, and she bit her lip as she felt him slide over her wet folds before pushing ever so slowly inside. Inch by glorious inch he stretched and filled her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him even deeper.

Damn, that's perfect, she thought, leaning her forehead against his.

"Yes," he agreed, gritting his teeth, and she realized she'd actually said that out loud. "Bloody hell, Emma, you're so tight."

She trembled, nails digging into his shoulders, waiting for him to move. "Hook, please."

"Emma, look at me," he said, his voice low and rough. Almost against her will, her eyes rose to his, and she gasped at the intensity. It was like her most secret thoughts and feelings were bared to him. "Tomorrow, when you see me in that diner, I want you to think of this. Remember what it felt like to have me deep inside you."

She moaned. Damn it, she would remember, whether she wanted to or not. She couldn't forget if she tried. She slid her hands into his hair and pulled him into a desperate kiss as he began to move inside her.

He started with long, slow thrusts, but soon her whispers of "more, more" had him building speed, hitting her even deeper, stealing her breath. She tightened her legs around him and tried to meet his thrusts, clutching at his shoulders. Her entire world narrowed to where their bodies were joined, and she felt a wave of heat building inside her.

"Ohgodohgodohgod Killian." She was so close; she let go of one of his shoulders to reach down and touch herself. He cursed roughly as his movements became more erratic, and she knew he was nearly there, too.

Their eyes met and held; she wanted to look away from his intense gaze but couldn't. Remember me, it said. Remember this.

With a cry, she came hard, vaguely aware of him pumping into her once, twice more before following her, her name on his lips.

Later, when her heartbeat slowed and her brain was more-or-less functioning again, she turned and curled her body into his, dropping a kiss on his shoulder.

"I find it hard to believe that I won't remember this," he said, slowly rubbing circles on her back.

"Well, you don't remember how we made out yesterday."

"Oh? So, you've used me for sex before, Swan?" he said, that damn eyebrow popping up.

"Not sex, just kissing and stuff," she said, pinching him lightly in the side, laughing as he twisted away. So Hook was ticklish? This was important information to file away. "Anyway, that was totally not planned. It was your fault for looking so hot in the jeans I made you try on."

He put his arm around her and snuggled her closer. "When you break the curse, will you tell me about this?"

She froze, looking up at him. "I don't … I don't know."

He nodded, like that was the answer he expected. Disappointment flashed across his face before it was gone, replaced with a cocky grin. "I suppose I'll just have to work a little harder to be memorable, then."

"Oh, you're very memorable," she said, trying like hell to keep things light. She dragged her nails through the hair on his chest, circling them on the skin below his belly button. She flicked her tongue over his nipple and smiled as his breath hitched. "But the key to remembering anything is repetition."

She knew it was nearly midnight, but she didn't want to look at the clock.

Hook lay spooned behind her, his breath on her neck. Who would have thought Captain Hook was a cuddler?

She couldn't sleep, and she knew he was awake, too, savoring every moment they had before the clock turned back. They had spent all day in bed, with an intermission when he'd ducked over into Granny's Diner to pick up some dinner. Given how utterly debauched he had looked at the time — clothes and hair mussed, mouth swollen and a blooming hickey on his neck — she'd be surprised if half the town didn't know what they'd been up to all day. She couldn't bring herself to care, though. That was the best damn grilled cheese sandwich of her life (to say nothing of the amazing sex), and tomorrow, nobody would remember any of it anyway.

Not even Hook.

She sighed.

All she'd wanted was a day free from consequences, only to discover that she wanted the consequences. Okay, maybe she didn't want the townsfolk knowing about her sex life, but she wanted like hell for Hook to remember all of this tomorrow.

Almost as much as he wanted to remember.

Sometime between that first deep kiss and the last one, which he'd brushed against her hair as he cuddled into her, she'd realized that she wanted a lot more from Killian Jones than a day in bed. She wanted everything, and there was no point in even telling him that, because tomorrow he'd still be back to drinking himself into a stupor and staring at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

She pushed closer to him and linked her fingers with his, finally stealing a glance at the clock.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost midnight."

11:59, to be exact.

He cursed and tightened his arms around her. "Emma, I want you to know, I —"

"Please," she whispered, appalled to find that there was a tear running down her cheek. "Please don't say it."

She could feel him nod, then press another kiss into her hair.

She sighed again.

Midnight.

Rewind.