The radio blared to life in the early morning hours. Suddenly, the kitchen was filled with the sounds of the local radio announcers broadcasting the latest news.

Well, it wasn't really anything new ― all of America was madly smitten with President Kennedy as he launched into his first term with vigor, and that seemed to be all people could focus on these days. Women followed First Lady Jackie's fashion moves, while men took sides on the ends of politics. The Cold War seemed to be done with. Traditional values still soared amongst the media, with those pristine little houses lined up in a row and model family life advertised far and wide. The entertainment industry was rising along with it as adaptations of books and stories came to life on the silver screen, in the form of talented individuals who had mastered the art of pretense. It was clear that modern culture was shifting once again, seeking more ground to cover as it expanded its territories.

A new day and age.

Even the new genre of music known as "rock and roll" was changing constantly, morphing for each musician as he or she saw fit.

Hmm, that change wasn't so bad, in her opinion. Not when there were voices like those of the Beatles to listen to.

Love, love me do...

Tsking at the closed shutters, Emma reached out and opened them with a snap, her smile widening under the onslaught of fresh daylight. She managed to catch the last few verses of the song chiming on air before it faded away, transitioning into another.

In a breeze, she had opened the fridge. The chilly air blew through her sheer nightgown, raising goosebumps on her skin, but she didn't mind. Soon, a carton of eggs, four slabs of bacon, a stick of butter, a roll of bread, and half a gallon of milk lay out on the demure wooden counter. At first she thought it was going to be the usual scrambled eggs and cup of coffee, but... That was the boring workday breakfast menu. Today was Saturday, and this particular morning called for something extra special.

She put the bacon back where it belonged and ushered out a small pitcher of maple syrup from the cupboard instead.

Humming along with a Frank Sinatra classic, she whipped the egg whites and their yolks into a frenzy, careful not to spill anything while she poured a sufficient amount of milk and stirred it in. Then came the simple part of dipping slices of bread into the egg mixture. Just for good measure, she let them sit in and soak up the yellow puddle.

With a jolt, the stovetop burst into flame. Its companion, the empty frying pan, was filled with melting butter and intermittent crackles before the fatty liquid was joined by its target: each piece of wet, squishy bread was dunked into a bowl of cinnamon sugar before being dropped unceremoniously onto its fate.

Amid the delicious smells of her cooking, Emma found time to clean up the sink and set the table. She felt tempted to whistle while she worked, but this was real life, not a Disney cartoon. That, and the immediate fear of jinxing her good luck. If she started believing her story was a fairy tale, everything she had gained could be stripped away from her in an instant, like it had when she was a child.

She didn't want that to ever happen again.

Though thousands had already joined the ranks of soldiers heading to Vietnam to fight once again for God and country, many stayed behind, wanting to hold on to their loved ones as long as they could. Nothing short of a draft would convince them to leave.

Still, she was so worried ― and worst of all, there was good cause for it. He might be a Brit, but because of his permanent residency, there was a chance they'd―

"Hey...who said you could wake up so early?" Warm air nuzzled her neck while bare arms circled her waist from behind, wrapping her in a firm hug. She felt her legs and her heart melt. "And you're bloody working again ― for shame, lass, I make a pretty mean scrabbled egg myself. You should be back in bed, resting. You do more than enough at the hospital as it is."

Grinning from ear to ear, Emma turned around and threw her arms around Killian's neck. "And what is so wrong with me wanting to make us something special?" she teased, really loving the fact that he always refused to wear a nightshirt. His rising chest, bare and hot, bumped gently against the top of her nightgown.

Even with his hair sticking up in all directions and the sleepy look on his face, he really was the most beautiful man in the world.

"Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction," said a wise man once.

Eyes like heaven gazed at her with such affection that it took her breath away. She and he had seen the same horizon, fought the obstacles in their path, and won. He was the rock and staff during her journey. He made her stronger.

He smirked. "Usually, I will heed my lady's every command. But given last night's...special events, I wanted to savor this morning."

Her lungs tightened at the sound of his husky drawl. When he slowly pressed his hips forward, his hard heat nudging between her thighs, she had to grip his upper arms for support.

"See what being close to you does to me, darling?" he growled, one hand sneaking underneath her gown. "All these years without this...bloody torture, it was."

Damn, he was so quick. Her lips parted when he cupped her breast. In the next instant his tongue met hers with voracious hunger.

"My love, my love," he moaned softly into her mouth, his other hand finding her other breast and kneading it.

Groaning, she pulled back. "Killian," she scolded, "if you keep doing that, we'll―"

"Oh, I know very well what will happen." He lifted her onto the kitchen countertop, only letting go of her bottom to turn off the stove. "We'll both be very happy and very sated..." He paused in front of her, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Or...do you want me to stop?"

Her thighs were still sore. Even now, she could feel the ache he had left, when whispered words weren't enough and he was showing her, with all he had, how much he wanted her. It was a wonder they had gotten any sleep last night.

The drawstring of his pajama pants called out to her, promising a sure reveal of the glory between his legs that was jutting through the fabric, that sweet feeling that gave her so much pleasure and so much him. God, there was nothing else like it. He had taken such good care of her, had taken the time to show her everything while he slowly thrust in and out, swallowing her cries and giving her his own. She had never witnessed him more vulnerable than when he had made love to her. His completion came after hers. The ecstasy and truth etched on his face as he pulsed inside her...she could only helplessly hold on and enjoy it all, the sorrow and longing and hope.

Because it was her first time, he didn't push her for more, being the gentleman he was. The last sensation she remembered was how he kissed her to sleep, printing their love into her skin.

God, she loved him. Pulling the knot loose, she tugged down his pants and grabbed at his exposed hips. "I want you," she croaked out. "Killian, I want you."

Her fingers fumbled with the hem of her nightgown. Finally, she managed to lift it up, and he helped her pull it over her head.

He smiled before lowering his mouth to her taut nipples. What she had believed before to be reserved for babies and their mothers was now one of the most intimate acts between her and him, his face buried in her tender breasts while he ground gently onto her. She had asked him if she should return the favor, but he had insisted that he always wanted to make it good for her, that it was all about her needs, not his.

"You taste wonderful, Emma," he murmured between suckles, licking at the swells. "Like nectar and wine and spice, all in one."

He had explained to her the workings of a woman, how she ought to feel when he did this. She could sense the growing pulls inside, the throbbing that was wetness and desire and an ache to be filled.

As if knowing her thoughts, his hands spread her thighs far apart and anchored them around his waist. Her heels dug into his soft backside when he pushed in, careful not to hurt her. A sizzle of pain subsided once he began to move, surely and steadily. Soon the kitchen walls resounded her quiet moans and his deep grunts, the sliding of skin against skin and body against body creating a rhythm that was arousing and driving her insane.

"More?" she begged, running her nails down his back. He groaned, picking up the pace while he continued to pleasure her breasts.

"Oh...bloody hell, Emma...Emma, Emma...I love you...I love being in you like this...you feel bloody splendid, a marvel...my beautiful love..." He was panting heavily. "My darling, don't hold back. I want to hear you. Tell me if it's enough."

Her hands clutched at his head when he nipped at her. "Killian," she whimpered, rocking her hips, "there will never be enough. I love you too much."

Another strangled groan, and he was pumping furiously into her, crying out her name in a litany of praise, his face now settled in the crook of her neck. Her eyelids fluttered closed when she broke apart, sighing again and again as her entire body became light and limp. Then he came with a muffled shout, pouring into her, massaging her insides in the best way imaginable.

In the aftermath, Emma whined despite herself as her beloved spread kisses over her, determined to make their mutual happiness last for as long as possible. He left a searing trail over her shoulders and down her sides, relentless in touching her everywhere his hands could reach.

"Did you have fun, love?" he rasped into her ear, pressing another kiss there. "Was I ― did I satisfy―"

"You were sublime... Thank you." She blushed when he rubbed noses with her, clearly amused by her choice of words (if his expression had anything to say about it). "What?"

He stole another kiss from her mouth before answering, "Nothing... I just never thought sex would leave you so...speechless. You usually are quite vocal." He chucked her lightly under the chin. "Who would have thought the great Emma Swan could ever be intimidated?"

Chuckling, she combed aside with her fingers the wayward hair that had gathered on his forehead, wet from his exertion. "Being a doctor that many years does that to a person. Even now, the residents make so many mistakes that I get a headache from correcting them all the time. Just the other day, one of the new nurses nearly gave one of the children the wrong vaccine, and Dr. Whale―"

"Sod that man," he grumbled. "Whenever I'm around, I catch him staring at your arse―"

"Killian!"

"Aye, it's true ― and he your former physician, too." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Next time it happens, I'm going to tell him to keep his eyes on his bloody wife and her only."

She arched an eyebrow. Dimly, it registered in the back of her mind that they were both standing stark naked in the middle of the kitchen, for God's sake. And the damn blinds were up. "Should I be telling you to practice your own advice soon?"

As if on cue, he gave her the most adorable pout and pleading gaze. "Whatever do you mean, love?"

"Don't try that with me." She shook a finger at him in mock anger. "I see the way you eye the ladies, even when I'm around."

He bit down on his tongue, peering at her from underneath his eyelashes. "Does that mean my fiancé has been spying on me?"

Emma pretended to inspect her fingernails. "Not spying. Just...checking. Sometimes, during my lunch breaks."

The long look-over he bestowed on her from head to toe spoke volumes. One moment, they were bantering, and the next... She wanted to push him down on to the floor and have her way with him. "Lass, you know I want only you. Business is business, and me mum always said that honey catches more flies than vinegar ― especially concerning women. Just say the word, darling, and we can spend all of our breaks together," he grinned cheekily. "How was I to know that my casual encounters with the female sex cause you such...jealousy?"

She didn't bother to deny it. Right now, the sight of him, lean and taut and toned by years of long hours at his car shop, was making her rather besotted. She was especially mesmerized by the motions of his throat and lips... He was in the middle of defending his flirtations when she leaned forward and kissed him hard, entangling her fingers in his hair. This time, she embraced his waist with her thighs on her own, relishing his moan.

"No more talking," she gasped out, cradling his cheeks with her hands. Oh. His stubble reminded her of the redness covering certain areas of her body., and it was making her blood race, her touches bolder... "I don't want to talk. I want to celebrate."

He covered her left hand with his, lifting it so he could glance at her fingers. She blushed. "You like your ring?" He nodded at the gleaming band of silver. "In the end, I thought the jeweler's recommendations were pure bull and I just―"

She silenced his excuses with another kiss, his muscles filling out her curves in the most delicious ways. "God, Killian ― I love it, you hear? I love it, and I love you. And yes, I still want to be your wife."

"Good." His answering smile was bright, with teeth and eyes gleaming. "I was worried that you'd wake up today and say you'd changed your mind."

"And why would I do that?"

He hung his head. "You know why."

Tracing the lines of his jaw with her fingertips, she pressed her lips over it again and again. "How much will it take for you to believe in all you're worth, Killian?" she whispered by his mouth.

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "The same as it took for you to come back to me. When you woke up, Emma, my whole world was alive again. I don't ever want to lose you."

"You won't." She leaned her forehead against his. "Killian Jones, I'm going to marry you and be with you and I'm never going to leave you. Never."

He nuzzled her chin. "I check on you in your sleep... Did you know that? At least twice a night, I check to see that you're breathing...that you haven't up and gone where I can't follow." He was shuddering in her arms, goosebumps on his skin even though the air in kitchen was so warm. "I fear that...more than anything. I fear a life without you."

"I...I check on you too. All those times I brought you your lunch, or left work early to pick you up...God, you have no idea how much I worry about you. I can't lose you either. I can't."

His breathing slowed. "Well, you don't have to worry, Swan. If anything, I'm a survivor."

"So am I," she smiled, both hands massaging his shoulders. The gesture always relaxed him.

The ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece was all she could hear as they stared at each other, bare and open, losing themselves in the moment.

Then the smell of cooling French toast tickled her nose, and she gave him a sidelong glance when she turned to check on the abandoned frying pan. "Everything's ready."

His teeth wormed on his lower lip, soon stretching into a wide smile. "Aye, it is."

She nudged his leg with hers. "I meant the breakfast."

His eyes teased her, scintillating. "I meant us."

"If you keep talking like that, the only thing I'll be doing in the next five minutes is pulling you into our bedroom," she purred. "After all, we're still naked here."

"True." He fingered his chin as if considering the matter. "But sweetheart...I'm hungry," he whined, looking mournful.

Emma laughed. "Then give me back my clothes, pirate."

The pitcher of maple syrup finally caught his eye. Dipping his finger in, he licked at the dense liquid. His smirk was downright lustful while he perused her body, his ravenous stare burning her.

"Oh, I don't think so, princess." He gripped her hips, lifting her off the counter and into his arms. "With you, I'll always want breakfast in bed."

THE END

A/N: This story was first published and completed in 2014.

I removed all my work from this website years ago, and I've decided to slowly bring it back. I have 14 other Captain Swan fics I'd like to share, and while I may not have the energy to post them all up, I will do my best. Reviews are always appreciated. I'm also on AO3 under the same username, and I'm on Tumblr as 4getfulimaginator2022. I hope you enjoyed this story - see you around!