She's the most exquisite creature he's ever seen.

He's been mesmerized by her before, many times, but this…

This is… Indescribable. The sight of her skin flushed with pleasure, the way her breasts tighten into hard peaks and sway with her movements - it's absolutely breathtaking. And the way she whimpers his name – bloody hell, the way she whimpers his name – it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

He watches, entranced, as she comes down from her high, fascinated by how the candlelight casts glittering streaks of gold through her hair. When her eyes open on a final sigh, there's gold there, too, little flecks of it flickering in her irises – the most valuable treasure he's ever known.

"That was… incredible," she whispers in amazement.

It makes him smile because, oh, she has no idea.

"That's just the beginning, love," he replies, raising a brow.

She gives him a delighted smile in return and then she's kissing him again, opening her legs and urging him to move between them. As he positions himself above her, her hands glide from the back of his head all the way down his spine in a possessive move that leaves him gasping out her name. She's far from timid, lifting her hips to meet his even as she presses down with her hands, both of them groaning at the first contact of hard and soft.

Before he even has time to catch his breath, her hips start moving rhythmically against his, coating him with her recent release. He doesn't know why he thought she'd be more reserved, even if it is her first time, but she's proving to be quite enthusiastic and while he's looking forward to many nights of unreined passion in the near future, tonight isn't the night for it. Tonight, he's going to worship her slowly, give her the wedding night they never had, just like she asked.

It's a test of discipline, to be sure, when he presses his thumb into the crease of her thigh in an attempt to gentle her eager movements. Bloody hell, he wants to bury himself hard and fast but he opts instead for diving his tongue into her mouth for a long, deep kiss. Eventually her hips still, but he's so worked up that it takes him another minute because even without the friction, she's so bloody wet and warm that the throbbing in his cock only slows fractionally.

Surprisingly, it's her thumb smoothing gentle circles into his hip that brings his sanity back, and he opens his eyes to find her smiling mischievously at him, a hint of smugness in the way she bites her lip. It makes him want to laugh and groan at the same time… she's a natural seductress, all knowing confidence and twinkling eyes, and he starts to wonder which of them is truly in control here.

That question is answered soon after when she leans up to graze her lips across his. He's putty in her hands, and doesn't even have the strength to care. Still, she seems to understand his unspoken request and keeps her hips still, instead wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a tender hug. He buries his nose in her neck and she breathes his name into his ear, a reverent sigh that fills him with wonder when he realizes he likes that sound even more than the stilted way she'd cried it earlier as she'd come around his fingers.

Lieutenant Killian Jones had loved this woman with his whole heart. He'd been enamored with her from the very first moment. She'd been his dream, his future, and she had loved him back just as much. Until this moment, he'd forgotten just how much, but hearing his name whispered out so adoringly against his ear reminds him, makes him feel the love she'd had for him them, takes him back to those great halls and grand gardens where they'd been so blissfully happy.

When he meets her gaze, he sees that love, pure and open, and it makes his heart skip a beat, not in fear or doubt, but because he loves her so bloody much that his heart can't seem to beat normally anymore.

"Emma, I…" he starts but chokes it down. If he says it, he knows she'll say it back… and if she says it now, without knowing everything, she'll be saying it to the man he used to be, not the man he is and, honestly, that might just break him. So he trails off and opts to simply show her in every way he can.

Bracing his forehead to hers, he gently draws his fingers through her hair, traces the lines of her face with the pad of his thumb, a gentle worship that he hopes will make her understand what he wants to say without the actual words. And, as is so often the case with them, she does understand, a muted, I know, floating into the air between their mouths.

He doesn't even try to mask his groan as he closes the distance and fuses their lips together in a slow, all-consuming kiss. Her mouth opens without prompting, inviting his tongue to slide against hers and tilting her head so he can delve deep. Every inch of her body is pressed against his, her creamy skin melded into his own like they could dissolve into each other any moment. It takes his breath away. Because it's more than just her body and his body. It's her heart and his heart and how they're so wrapped up in each other that he can feel each of her beats being echoed in his, taking route somewhere deep inside him, all the way to his very soul.

Time and space blurs and merges together – the past, the future, the present all seeming to converge in on them until there's nothing left but this kiss. They're not on his ship, not in a castle or a cottage or anywhere else. He wonders idly if this is what heaven is like, floating in a realm where nothing else exists, where they're just two people who have loved and lost and found and are so enveloped in each other that nothing else needs to exist.

He doesn't know how long they float through that peaceful place, mouths and tongues tangling and sweeping against each other. When he works his way across her cheek to her jaw, she sighs and rakes her fingers through his hair, turning her head to give him better access to the elegant line of her neck. Accepting the invitation, he swirls his tongue into her pulse, eliciting a contented groan from her. As he continues working across to her shoulder, her lips find skin of their own to explore, dipping her chin to run her mouth across his cheek, his forehead, his temple.

Their bodies start moving again but it's not an urgent movement. This dreamy realm is not the place for that. No, now it's lingering and rhythmic, skin gliding against skin in an unhurried dance that allows mouths and tongues to continue their explorations.

There's not so much as a trace of fear that clouds her face when he lines himself up, her hand lifting to cup his cheek. His tip finds her entrance and he trembles, the monumental moment making him stop to savor it.

She's going to be his.

Only his.

After everything that has happened, they're finally here together. She's alive and warm beneath him. It isn't a dream. It isn't a hallucination. His princess is opening her body to him and he finds he can't even breathe, the moment so long in coming that his eyes sting.

His body shudders uncontrollably, the feel of her heat awaiting him almost too much. He's never wanted a woman like this before, there's never been this total desire to give everything he has. He's always tried to be a generous lover – and he's never left a women wanting – but this is something different. This is more than physical. He wants to give her every part of himself, his body, his heart, his soul. He wants to ensconce himself in her very being, take up residence there and never leave.

Only his. She's going to be only his.

"Killian?" her voice breaks through his thoughts. "Is… Are you alright?"

Her voice is full of concern and he realizes he's trembling, his eyes fixed on her flat stomach and his hand arrested on her hip.

"I'm…" Gods above, how does he tell her how much this means to him? There are no words good enough. How can he explain that no matter how much experience he has, he's never done this before? He's never made love before. In this respect, he's as innocent as she is. And suddenly he feels completely unprepared, his body trembling so badly that he's afraid to move.

"I know," she whispers, drawing his attention – and from the look in her eyes she does without him having to say a word. "It's you and me. It's us... Finally."

Her eyes are glistening with emotion and he nods shakily, feeling completely off-kilter. But her hand gentles him, running across his cheek in a reassuring way.

"It's happening exactly as it was meant to," she continues, her voice tender and wistful, "I was always meant to be yours. And you were always meant to be mine. I never doubted it. Not from the first moment I saw you. I was trembling. Did you know that? Just like you are now. I was trembling so badly that I almost couldn't speak. I don't even remember what I said. You bowed to me and all I could do was try to remember to breathe."

Easing his weight onto his left arm, he tangles his shaky fingers with hers where they're still cupping his cheek, turning his head to kiss her palm.

"I felt the same way," he confesses, hearing the waver in his voice. "The first time you smiled at me, I knew. This," he moves their joined hands to his heart, "has always been yours. I would never have given it to anyone else."

Her eyes move to their hands, flexing her fingers into his chest. "Mine," she whispers, "Only mine."

He would swear in that instant that his heart actually glows, a gentle lightness filling his entire body at the possessive tone of her voice.

Only hers.

As if there ever could have been another way.

Her eyes move to his as she tangles her free hand in his hair, coaxing him to dip down for a sweet kiss. "Now, make me yours," she says in a low voice, not pleading or demanding… just offering… endlessly offering.

His body immediately stops trembling and he carefully pushes forward, her velvety heat surrounding him and making his eyes roll back in his head. But just as his tip passes her entrance, her body stiffens in pain and she hisses through her teeth.

"I'm sorry, darling," he whispers achingly, biting down on the inside of his cheek and forcing himself to be still.

But Emma, it seems feels no such remorse, digging her nails into his arse, "It's okay, don't stop," she gasps, trying to pull him deeper even as a choked sob passes her lips.

Beads of sweat break out on his skin when he tries to ease back against the strength of her hands, but she doesn't relent, pushing up with her hips until tears spill over.

"It's alright, love," he sooths, "There's no rush. Just relax and let me take care of you."

She expels her breath in a light puff of air but eases her grip and relaxes into the mattress in an obvious attempt to do as she's been bidden. Leveraging up, he moves his thumb to her clit and starts circling it, hoping the pleasure will distract her from the pain. She's already soaking wet, but the added stimulus causes a rush of heat to surround him and his groan mixes with hers. He inches forward again, pausing when she tenses, pulling back and rocking forward gently. He continues like that for a time, sliding in and out with careful thrusts, her body opening gradually to admit him. When it seems the stimulation on her clit isn't enough anymore, he dips his head to her breast and sucks her nipple into his mouth, keeping the steady rocking of his hips going. She jolts and angles her hips just right and he slides the rest of the way in with a long growl, releasing her breast to suck in air. Fuck, she feels bloody marvelous, warm and tight and so bloody soft that he worries for an instant that he might pass out from the pleasure of it.

Her labored breathing breaks through the pounding in his ears and when he opens his eyes, her face is turned into the pillow and pinched in pain. He clenches his eyes tight in remorse, his heart railing from the injustice of it. Why is a man forced to hurt the woman he loves while he feels nothing but pleasure? Who made it this way? It's so bloody unfair that she has to endure this. And it's unfair that he has to inflict it on her. He'd give anything to take the pain on himself rather than feel her body stiffen this way.

He's not sure how long he stays like that, paralyzed with frustration over the unfairness of the laws of nature that say a woman must suffer pain the first time, but eventually, he feels her fingers turning his chin and he opens his eyes to find her watching him, tears swimming in the deep emerald.

"It wasn't as bad as all that," she says softly, running her fingers into the hair at his temple.

The fact that she's trying to comfort him makes his heart melt in his chest and a choked sound escapes. She's the most generous woman he's ever met and he'll never be worthy of her. Why she graced him with this gift, he will never understand, it's humbling and exalting and he vows in that moment to give her anything she ever asks of him. If she wants him to stay by her side, he will. If she turns him away, he'll go without a fight, without bitterness or anger. Because, no matter what the future holds for them, he'll have this… The memory of the woman who owns his heart giving him the most precious gift she's ever given anyone.

Gingerly, he catches a single tear from where it escapes her eye, the emotion clogging his throat making him swallow hard. "I'll never hurt you again, love. I promise," he vows in a thick voice. He realizes as he says the words that he means them in more than just the physical, and from the look on her face, he knows she understands that.

"And I'll never hurt you again," she vows in return, her expression solemn and her words earnest as her thumb brushes a tear from his cheek that he hadn't even known he'd shed.

His breath catches in his throat, the utter certainty she puts into her declaration making him pause. Because she means it. She believes it. And the total conviction in her soft eyes makes him believe it for that instant, sparking something deep in his gut that shoots through his entire body. He doesn't have time to analyze the quick flash because the next thing he knows, she's kissing him, kissing him and rocking her hips experimentally and sighing out in relief because the pain is over.

The tightness in his chest releases its hold and he groans into her mouth, even that tiny bit of friction making his blood race. Taking control again, he pulls back, almost all the way out, before sinking deep again, watching her for any sign that she's feeling any lingering discomfort. Her long sigh tells him there is none and he thrusts again.

She breathes his name and lifts her hips to meet his, moving one hand to fist it in the sheets while the other gropes at his lower back to urge him on. That's all it takes to break his restraint and he leverages himself up to get better traction, luxuriating in the moan he draws from her when he finds that spot that makes her writhe and hiccup out a whine. The sounds get more desperate as he pushes for it again and again, her head thrown back on this pillow and her body arching up off the bed.

This is definitely what heaven is like, her golden-tinted hair splayed out around her, her cheeks flushed in rapturous pleasure, her body clenching tight around him. Nothing will ever match it. Nothing will ever come close. And when her walls start to quiver, when his name falls from her lips in ecstasy, all he can do is answer with her name, whispering it over and over again as he follows her over the edge.

He drops onto his elbows and kisses her through the aftershocks, drinking up each and every tremor of her body like a man dying of thirst. The force of his kisses seems to surprise her but she kisses him back just as eagerly, nipping at his lips and threading her fingers in his hair. He keeps rocking until he is totally spent, giving her every last drop of himself that he can and then groans into her mouth because he wants to give her more. But he's softening inside her and he reluctantly eases out, turning them both to keep her in his embrace when he settles next to her.

She tucks her forehead against his cheek and he gathers her close, her fingers wandering his chest until they land over his heart.

"Only mine," he hears her whisper into his neck.

His heart stutters and he holds her tighter.

"Only yours, love."

She makes a contented sound when he tucks the blanket around them and he drifts off to sleep with her hand still on his heart.

K&EK&EK&E

Regina towers over the form of her oldest adversary, the pristine beauty with lips as red as a rose and skin pale and perfect, even while cursed. It's been years and still the sight of her deceptively peaceful face makes anger and hatred fill her chest. Not for the first time, she wonders if there's any awareness while under a sleeping curse. Can she feel the passage of time? Can she hear or sense anything going on around her?

Just in case, she can't help but taunt her old nemesis. "Hello, darling step-daughter. And how are we doing today? Oh wait, don't tell me. You're feeling a bit tired, yes?"

She chuckles at her own joke, sliding a finger into the hair of the sleeping woman's temple. "You're getting gray, Snow. It seems this curse hasn't stopped you from aging, while I, on the other hand haven't aged a day." (It's a lie, of course. She has aged, she's just really good a glamour spells – not that anyone needs to know that.) "I suppose that means you're not the fairest anymore," she adds.

A knock at the door has her straightening and stepping away from the dais.

"What is it?" she says impatiently.

"There's a report, my Queen," Claude says when walks in, holding out a scroll, "It's just been delivered."

Regina takes it, breaking the seal quickly and starts reading. She only makes it one sentence before her blood boils.

He escaped again.

That damn pirate!

Fifty men. He'd taken down fifty of her men. Him and that damn ship of his. A ship that he stole from her! Oh, when she gets her hands on him…

A figurine of a horse explodes next to her, making Claude jump in surprise but she pays him no mind.

They'd missed their opportunity in Arendelle, and now again. Of course, he hadn't been the priority mission in Arendelle, just a lucky coincidence, and he'd run like the coward she knows he truly is, hiding aboard his – her – impenetrable ship. But this time they'd had a way to get aboard. This time, he was supposed to have been easy prey and, still, he'd escaped.

Unballing the rest of the note, she reads on. There's good news: The Hatter, the organizer of the underground supply chain, has fled with the pirate.

That's the good news?! One of the only people who might be able to identify Captain Hook is now with Captain Hook. Good news?! And why is this good news? Because this will break down the Hatter's network of spies and rebels? It's like putting a pebble in front of a boulder to stop it. The peasants are already armed – with weapons from her arsenal! They don't cower at the sight of her black knights anymore. They resist and refuse to relinquish their crops to feed her soldiers. They are flourishing! They have gold and supplies and, whether or not they know it, they owe all of that to Captain Hook.

Dammit! It had taken her too long to put it together. She'd thought of him as simply a nuisance at first, a fly that you bat away but don't bother to crush. Stealing her incoming supplies from merchants, sinking a naval vessel or two. But, with the help of the Hatter, they'd managed to arm nearly her entire kingdom right under her nose!

Oh, more good news… They found out his name… the Hatter's that is. It's Jefferson. A simple hat maker from King Midas's kingdom. Wonderful.

Well, it seems it's time for her to call upon a fellow royal.

"Prepare my carriage," she barks at Claude, smirking when he rushes out the door.

Looking down, she sees the remnants of her favorite figurine littering the floor. Well, that's just one more crime the pirate will have to answer for.

Turning on her heel, she makes her way to the dungeon. That wizard owes her an explanation.

K&EK&EK&E

The wizard materializes in the middle of the cell, his arm waving across the room to return it to the dank and dreary place Regina will expect. He mourns the loss of his comfortable chair. He could really use a few moments of relaxation before his guest arrives but there will be time for that later. It's been an exhausting few days – but satisfying even if he does say so himself – flitting around to check the position of all the relevant players in this intricate chess game. It's all finally starting to come together the way it should.

He's been waiting for this for a thousand years, his life's mission at last being recognized. It isn't happening the way he'd originally foreseen it and he'd had to do some quick reconfiguring but now, it seems, everyone is on the right course.

There's still danger, to be sure. He can't underestimate his opponent. While she tends to be a little over dramatic at times, she's not to be taken lightly. The darkness in her is powerful – hate can be a very powerful motivator – but love… Well, there's a reason why True Love is said to be the most powerful of magic.

He can sense her footsteps approaching and releases a sigh. Time to play the humbled, powerless prisoner one last time…

He's back in position an instant before the door opens, his shackled arms colored with bruises and his head bowed.

"Captain Hook escaped again," she barks without preamble. "You said I'd only need to find a way to get aboard his ship and then I'd have him!"

Okay, completely dispensing with pleasantries, now, he guesses.

"That's not exactly what I said," he replies. "I said you'd need to find a way to get aboard his ship if you were to capture him. I didn't guarantee it would work. It's not my fault your knights failed."

He sees her hand squeeze into a fist but, apparently, she'd been in such a rush that she'd forgotten to bring along the heart.

"And what of Emma?" she demands, "Have you made any progress on locating her?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," he replies, holding back a laugh when her eyes light up.

"And?!"

"I can say with complete certainty, now, that she's on a ship."

"What ship?"

"That's not as clear but she's travelling with commoners and I had a vision of her preparing food."

The queen hoots a laugh at that. "Earning her way in the kitchens, is she? Well, the little princess has no other skills to speak of, and she'd not lower herself to trade passage for anything more… enjoyable. Can you see where she's headed?"

"Afraid not. There's nothing but ocean in every direction."

The Queen considers that for a moment. "She's not so stupid as to join her father in Camelot. She must be running off to some far corner of the world."

"A likely possibility."

"Good," she says, "keep on her until she makes port and let me know where she's going to land."

"Of course, Your Majesty," he replies with a bow of his head.

Regina looks pleased with his response, a satisfied smile on her face when she speaks. "There now, you see? These little conversations of ours don't have to be unpleasant. You keep telling me what I want to know and I won't need to threaten your life."

"Quite right, my Queen."

"I'll be away for a few days," she says, getting back to business. "I'd like to see where this Hatter lived and try to flush out any remaining members of his network. I'll come see you when I return and, hopefully, that meeting will go as well as this one did."

"I certainly hope so, Your Majesty."

She makes her way to the door but turns at the last second.

"Oh, and if you have time, take a look in on Captain Hook as well. I'd be willing to give you roast lamb if you can give me his location."

He bows again without a reply and she disappears through the door, waving her hand to shut it behind her.

Little does she know she's just asked him to look at the same ship.

He hops to his feet. Time to set the next stage in motion… but first a few minutes in his comfortable chair.

K&EK&EK&E

Emma awakes slowly, stretching her aching muscles. It takes her less than a second to remember why she feels so sore and immediately smiles into the crook of her pirate's neck. He'd made love to her last night. He'd been gentle and patient and he'd looked at her with love in his eyes. He hadn't said it, but he'd made her feel it, every tender brush of his hand an unspoken declaration that made her heart soar.

Raising her head, she examines his face in sleep, a peaceful expression gracing his features. He's so incredibly handsome, those thick eyelashes nearly as striking as the blue they're hiding, the strong line of his jaw littered with impeccably kept scruff. She takes a minute to watch him, a warm glow igniting in her stomach that she recognizes instantly as magic.

He's the source of it. She knows he is. The more open he becomes with her, the more effortlessly it flows through her and the easier it becomes to control. It had taken her a while to see the pattern, but she'd reasoned through it over the past few days.

She'd started to suspect it when they were standing at the bow (Was it only two days ago? It feels like a lifetime since then) when he thanked her for saving his life. Something had stirred in her stomach when he'd taken her hand and, while they'd stood there wrapped in each other's arms, it had buzzed through her system with such strength, it had become obvious.

After that, she'd thought back to the other moments he'd wavered in his resolve to treat her with indifference, like when he'd given her the swan pendant, and when they'd returned from the tavern. Both of those times, she'd felt sparks in the pit of her stomach, but they were so vague she hadn't recognized them for what they were at the time. Now she knows, though.

They were magic.

Of course, her theory hadn't explained why she'd fainted after the powerful expulsion she'd used to save Granny, but that was also the first and strongest release she's experienced so far, so that's most likely what caused her to pass out. If the same thing were to happen now, she's almost certain she'd be able to accomplish an identical result with only a little dizziness.

But it does explain the way healed herself when she first awoke on his ship. She'd felt no fatigue at all from that and she knows now it was because there hadn't been any uncertainty between them in that moment. They'd both been so overwhelmingly happy to see each other… She'd felt so safe in his arms…

But then he'd taken to avoiding her. She'd hurt him and he'd retreated emotionally, and with that retreat, her magic had stilted to a halt. She'd tried to call on it a few times during those awful days – partly to distract her from the lead weight she'd been carrying around in her stomach – but none of them had worked. It wasn't until after he'd started softening toward her that she'd been able to use it again – and then with less fatigue.

Then at the cave she'd even been able to use it without a physical connection to him. She'd made that black knight fly through the air when he'd turned on Grace even though Killian had been across the clearing from her.

Ruby once told her that magic stems from emotion and only emotion can control it. But hers doesn't stem from her own emotions. It stems from Killian's. Well, maybe not just Killian's, but hers and Killian's. Every time she's used it, she could feel him wanting the same thing, hear his heartbeat alongside her own.

She hadn't truly made the connection until last night. It hadn't been until he'd twined their fingers together and held them over his heart that the answer had become clear. He's hers and she's his and as long as they're together, their magic will continue to strengthen.

He loves her. She knows he does. He all but said it last night. And now, lying beside him with nothing at all separating them, she can feel the spark of it with no effort at all. It's simply part of her just as he's part of her.

She wonders what he'd think if she were to tell him. He obviously knows that he's connected to it, but she doesn't know how he'd react if he knew it stemmed from their shared emotions. He's still scared that she'll leave him. He's still unsure of her feelings. He's still holding back his own. If she tells him now, will he think she only wants him to stay with her so her magic will continue to evolve? So that she'll be ready when they face Regina? Because she knows that's coming. She knows she will be face to face with the Evil Queen before this is over. And she knows that magic is the best weapon to have for that confrontation – and, of course, he knows it, too.

By the time she's thought through all the possible outcomes of telling him, her head is pounding, worry making her temples throb with tension. No, she won't tell him yet. She'll wait until after he tells her whatever it is he's keeping from her. She knows that's what's making him hesitant, so after she's proven she loves him no matter what, she'll explain their connection to her magic.

Her decision made, she relaxes back into his side, lifting her leg to lay it across his. The movement reminds her of the soreness in her limbs and she decides to try a little experiment. Shifting down, she presses a kiss over his heart and allows the magic to flow. There's a contented hum that she realizes comes from him, and then his heartbeat sounds in her head. She hums in response and then the pain is dissipating, a muted glow emitting from the palm she has resting on his chest.

His shocked gasp has her looking up to him, his eyes wide and trained on the light emanating from her hand.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she says apologetically, closing her hand into a fist to make the light dissolve.

He recovers quickly, understanding crossing his face just before he gives her a lazy smile, relaxing back into the mattress and quirking a mischievous eyebrow at her. "Can I assume this means you're not feeling any lingering discomfort from our activities last night?" he asks in a teasing voice, even as his hand kneads lightly at the base of her neck.

She can see his eyes darken with desire and she smiles back, biting at her lip when she nods.

"Then feel free to awaken me in that manner any time you want, darling," he says, even as his hand tightens in her hair and draws her lips to his for a long, drawn-out kiss.

Gods above, the man can kiss. He can make her knees go weak with one brush of his lips, make her blood zing through her veins with one swipe of his tongue.

"My body is at your disposal whenever you need it, love, regardless of why you require it," he mumbles into her mouth without breaking the connection of their lips.

The rough timbre of his voice shoots a bolt of lightning straight to her center and she has to bite back a moan when his hand glides down and grips at her backside, urging her up so that he can align her body next to his. She's pressed into the mattress in the next instant, his frame hard and heavy on hers while his lips continue their insistent exploration of her mouth. She opens her legs to him and her breath gets caught in her throat when she realizes he's already hot and hard.

Apparently Ruby was right: It doesn't take a lot for men.

When he begins rocking against her and she feels her own arousal build in less than two heartbeats, she realizes it doesn't take a lot for her, either.

This passionate outpouring reminds her of the evening they'd gone to the tavern, the wild and untamed hunger he'd given her a glimpse of that night. His fingers are strong and sure as they run down her side to mold around the curve of her hip, dipping under her to grab her backside and grind their centers together. She has to break from his mouth to breathe, a whimper of surprise escaping her lips.

That sound catches his attention and he eases the pressure of grip, sucking in air through his teeth. The storm brewing inside him is apparent when he meets her eyes, the deep blue of his the same as the sky on an overcast day, but he draws a steadying breath and the storm is gone, his eyes morphing into the soft blue of a spring afternoon. She knows a moment of disappointment because she longs for that unbridled passion he seems to be yanking into check, but it's hard to be disappointed when his mouth settles on hers again, his tongue distracting her from her thoughts.

Oh yes, he can definitely kiss. It's incredible, the way his lips and tongue work together to turn her bones to water, the way the light nip of his teeth can send shivers down her spine. But the most amazing thing is how he can speak to her without words, tell her the things he won't say aloud through the pressing of his lips to hers. He's told her so much over the last twenty-four hours, and a good part of that has been just like this, his lips using an unspoken language of brushes and nips, tongues and teeth. He's made vows to her, he's comforted her, told her he's happy, told her he's scared, told her he wants her… and told her he loves her. It's like a language all of their own, and one that doesn't need words. A language they use when words are impossible or when they can't adequately describe the emotions they feel.

And right now he's telling her he wants to cherish her, he wants to be the man she fell in love with, not the pirate he's become, and it makes her eyes sting, because he doesn't understand that she loves both sides of him equally, and she wants to be taken by the pirate as much as she wants to be cherished by the naval officer. But since this is what he seems to need right now, she doesn't push, resolving to let him set the pace he's comfortable with.

He lingers over her skin with his lips and hand, drawing sighs and muted moans from her. Her body blossoms under his ministrations, her skin heating and tingling everywhere he touches. Wanting to give back, she tangles her hand in his hair and angles his head so that she can focus her attention on the thick muscle in his neck. She feels his groan under her tongue and then he's pushing into her, wrapping their hands together on the pillow next to her head. Once he's fully seated inside her, he pauses, the proud length of him filling her so perfectly it feels like a piece of herself has been returned.

His body stays plastered to hers, the weight of him delicious as the rhythm begins. Their lips stay close together, his hand tangled in her hair on the pillow while he tilts his head back and forth, catching her mouth from every angle, the wordless language telling her she's beautiful, she's amazing, she's everything to him. It doesn't take long before the heat gathers low in her belly and just as she's careening toward the precipice, he breaks from her mouth to whisper her name, his hand tightening in her hair as he falls in the exact same moment.

Once they catch their breath, more kisses follow, the first telling her how happy he is, the second saying he doesn't want to move because being inside her is so perfect that he just wants to stay here forever. But just as he gets that message across, footsteps ring out on the deck above them and they both look up to the ceiling.

Emma groans in disappointment. "Do you think they'll miss us if we just stay here all day?" she asks.

"I'm afraid they would," he replies but doesn't move, kissing a path along her jaw as he continues, "and I did promise Dopey sword fighting lessons."

"Hmmm, that sounds like fun," she murmurs contently, the playful nip to her chin making her smile. "I could use some practice myself. I think you have gotten better with a sword than me, so I've got some catching up to do."

"Well," he replies, balancing his head in his hand and smiling down at her, "I'd be more than happy to show you some new moves, love. If you think you can handle it."

"Oh, I can handle it, alright," she teases back, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip and loving the way his eyes darken so quickly. "In fact, I'm looking forward to learning all of your new moves, Captain."

He cuts off her laugh with a kiss.