In The Wee Hours – part 2

Killian is engulfed in warmth and bliss, cocooning on their couch, his beautiful wife molded into his side as they are simply enjoying precious time together. A movie, probably? Oddly enough, he isn't sure; everything's a bit in a blur. On the other hand, it's not the first time – nor will it be the last – that having Emma by his side makes him lose focus of anything else. But that doesn't matter, really. All that matters is that he can revel in the closeness, the feeling of finally being home, the sweet stir in his groin when her hand brushes his cock through whatever garment he's wearing. He sighs contentedly and pulls her a little closer to him.

She brushes over him again, and with some effort, he turns his head to look at her, but she isn't where she's supposed to be, and he blinks in confusion. That lasts only for a moment, though, because of course she is there... she's just shifted a little downwards and has almost slid off the couch, and he wonders why that is, but only for the briefest of moments, because her intentions become quite clear when she caresses and massages him, causing his cock to spring to life whereas the rest of his body still feels weirdly boneless. He tries to move, tries to say something, but he can't get out one single, coherent word.

Emma smiles up at him cheekily, and he notices two things now: she's completely left the couch now and has settled on the floor between his legs, and whatever item of clothing covered him before, it's gone, and he's completely bare. Again, he tries to address her, but it's a useless endeavor, as she steals all the breath from his lungs when she wraps her slender fingers around him. He can only helplessly watch as she swirls her pink tongue along his length again and again, the magic she works causing his rock-hard flesh to twitch and squirm.

She holds Killian's gaze when she dips her head and closes her perfect lips around him, slowly taking him all in. The sensation is incredible, awakening all of his senses, and finally...

...he opens his eyes, or at least he thinks he does, but in the first moment he isn't sure, because the room is dark, dimly lit only by the faint silvery glow of moonbeams.

"Emma?" he murmurs and blinks, and then he sees the outlines of her body, warmly molded against his left leg, and the silky blond contour of her head in his lap. He can't see anything except her softly swaying head, but he feels the pressure of her lips around his base and the softness of her throat against his sensitive tip when she sucks him in deep. Then her hand cups his balls gently, rolling them in her palm while she swallows around him, and a groan rumbles up from deep in his chest.

It's like he woke up from a dream just to find himself in an even better one, with his gracious Swan regaling him with the most intimate and loving of caresses.

"Emma," he whispers again, but she doesn't reply, she just wraps her arm around one of his thighs and pulls him closer, deeper, her fingertips gently stroking the back of his thighs, sending sparks along his spine. She rocks against him softly, her whole body making love to him while his cock is gliding in and out of her heavenly mouth.

He gives himself completely up and into her ministrations, and his eyes flutter shut again while his hand is blindly searching for her head, needing to feel the silky strands of her hair between his fingers that he can never get enough of, to keep himself anchored in reality somehow. Because yes, this is real, he has to tell himself that every once in a while, on occasions like this; it's not one of those desperate dreams he used to have before he finally won her heart, that will leave him empty and sad and every time a bit more hopeless when he wakes up. No, this is real, it's Emma Swan, his True Love and his wife, swallowing him down because she loves to, and in the morning she will gladly let him reciprocate, because she loves him.

The thought elates him to stupid heights, and he gives himself to her rhythm, rolling his hips in sync with her mouth, giving up every futile effort to exert any self control. His breathing has turned into panting now, accompanied by deep noises huffing from his nose or through his slightly parted lips. Her movements become quicker, more insistent, she hollows her cheeks to add pressure and sucks him in really deep, and for a moment they sway together, before the muscles of his abdomen begin to tremble. His fingers flex against her scalp, goosebumps break out on his back, and he feels his balls squirm and tense underneath his skin before they empty themselves, and he spills all of his hot release into her eager mouth, down her throat, with a final groan.

A soft, whimpering sound escapes his lips, and his whole body shudders incontrollably. He's completely defenseless, but it doesn't bother him, because he knows Emma got him, she holds him safely with her arms, her body and her mouth. And Killian Jones is surely man enough to let himself fall uninhibitedly into the arms and at the mercy of the woman he loves. She holds him until he stops shaking and every part of his body has gone soft and relaxed again, only then she releases him gently from her mouth, after swallowing around him one last time. She presses one final, tender kiss to his hipbone, and he feels so very utterly cherished and loved.

"Emma," he murmurs breathlessly, not really knowing what else he wants to say, while she slides higher again and snuggles herself back into his side where she usually falls asleep.

"Shhh, go back to sleep," she whispers in the dark, "it's still dark."

He feels sated and boneless, and and while his heartbeat decelerates again, he slowly glides back into his slumber; after a few minutes he isn't even sure anymore if this midnight interlude was real or just the very vivid continuation of a cozy erotic dream.

But deep down, he knows.