A/N There will be a part 3 coming soon.
Killian took a deep breath as he leaned on the hood of his black Mustang in the parking lot outside the stripclub.
He shouldn't be here, but then Killian didn't know what he was supposed to do anymore. He hadn't believed in many lines in his wretched life, but there were certain codes he'd managed to maintain. But now, he was watching the last of those blur in front of him, fogged by a pair of green eyes and a mane of curly, blond hair.
He'd noticed her the first time he set foot in that cursed, spiritless joint. In a place where everything was gloomy, where decadence and lecherousness were the everyday currency people traded in, she was a beacon of hope. He could see her broken dreams and lost hope in the way she handled herself, in the walls she had built around herself, in the way her body would move and drive her clients insane, yet her spirit - her true self - seemed to be miles away from there. It had caught his attention, sparking a curiosity he hadn't been able to extinguish.
For weeks he'd watched her, his eyes carefully following her movements, trying to contain his emotions as much as he could. He could tell Ruby had noticed, which meant that Graham was soon teasing him about his crush on Emma Swan and offering to gift him with a lap dance. Killian had refused, repeatedly. Gods knew, that wasn't what he wanted from her. He wasn't sure what he wanted, but a lap dance in a bleak room wasn't it.
But it wasn't as if he had any other opportunities. What was he to do? Try to find her outside the club and ask her out for coffee? He was a regular at the place where she worked, she'd recognize him in an instant and think he was a creep, a stalker obsessed with her. He wouldn't blame her if she did. There was also the constant, nagging thought in his mind: how could he hope to gain a few minutes of her free time when she clearly would sell it at a price to others? How could he consider himself worthy of special treatment? Just because he was Killian bloody Jones and he had a silly crush on her? He'd never thought so highly of himself that he felt entitled of any special favoritism just because he had a charming smile and a smoldering pair of blue eyes.
He wished he'd never set foot in the club in the first place, that he'd bumped into her in a grocery store, or met her in a line to get coffee. Any place but the one he was now in, torn between the need to see her again and his belief in good form.
He also wished he hadn't had to return to the club over and over. But it was the perfect place for Graham to conduct his business, seedy and out of the way from prying eyes, and Killian needed to be where the action was.
He hated it.
Night after night he would see Emma move around the club, serving drinks and sinking onto men's laps. He would watch her avoid those men's treacherous hands - hands he wanted to cut from their bodies for daring to touch her when she clearly didn't want them to, her eyes lost in the distance as she moved automatically, her hips rolling and grinding.
And he wanted it. Her. Oh, how he wanted to feel her body grinding against his, all good form and moral ethics be bloody damned. But he reigned himself in and resisted his own urges as much as he could.
Until that night. That night in which his rotten existence caught up with him, the demons of his past haunting, and the rum he imbibed blurring the lines just a little more, making it easier for him to cross that final one.
He'd been nervous when she approached and kept his eyes focused on roaming over her body, mesmerized by her beauty. But the moment she reached him and started moving, he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. He could tell it confused her, and she tried to distract him, to entice him and bring his attention back to her body and away from her. But h saw in her eyes the same thing he saw reflected in the mirror every day. That look, the one you had when you've been left behind.
Then Emma had pressed against him, her body finally making contact with his, causing him to lose all rational thought. He even lost his restraint, his own hands betraying him as they sought to touch her, to feel her skin pressed against his palms. But she'd been faster than him, inflicting on him the only form of punishment she could, removing herself from his proximity. Killian didn't know what made him do it - whether it was the ghosts of his past or the demons he kept caged within himself - but when he'd asked for her company, he'd meant it. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her and forget anything else had ever existed. She'd refused - of course she would, he knew she wasn't the type - but it was her barb about him seeking another willing body that caused the tug in his chest. He didn't want someone else. He'd never want someone else. Not after hearing her breath catch when his hand caressed her leg. He'd felt it, and he knew she felt it too.
She'd been right that day, though. It wasn't only his thoughts that kept him company that night. He was joined by another bottle of rum and the memory of the scent of her hair as he closed his eyes and moved his hand over himself as he dreamt of a life he'd never have.
He lasted two days before he caved in again, the need to feel her close erasing all logical thought as he booked a private room and put in the request for her. Ruby gave him a wide smile, her eyebrow cocking mischievously at him, but Killian ignored her and the goosebumps that ran along the back of his neck as he made his way into the room.
Emma had melded into him this time, her flirty voice and teasing movements making him forget for a second where he was - what he'd paid for - and allowed him to tease back, enjoying the banter between them. It wasn't until he saw the hesitation in her eyes when he referenced her last name - the fear of someone knowing too much about her clear - and she pulled away from his touch that he'd realized he'd crossed the line again, mistaking the situation one more time.
He'd refrained from touching her again, although he desperately wanted to. He wanted to explore every bit of her skin, he wanted to get lost in the feel of her against his fingers, he wanted to hear her moan. Her breathless offer of a one-time thing wasn't something he'd expected, but the moment she let him in - just a little, just this once - he knew he'd never be able to get her out of his mind. And he knew he shouldn't have asked her to reconsider his previous offer, but his sanity hung by a thread with her body so close to his. She'd been rubbing against him, pressing so close that all he wanted was to see her fall apart in his arms, to give her all the pleasure he was able to muster with his hands, his body, his tongue. Her second refusal sealed the issue for him, and he accepted that no matter what might transpire between them during the dances he'd willingly paid for, nothing else would be available to him.
He tried to forget her, to climb up out of the hole he'd dug for himself, but after a particularly gruesome week in which he'd been caught up once again in doing the good guys' dirty work, all he wanted was to see her. All he wanted was to feel her move above him, to close his eyes and pretend - even for just few, fleeting minutes - that someone cared about him.
In the end, it was the way her lips grazed his cheek that broke him. More than anything they had done before, more than the way her core had ground against him, more than the swell of her breast against his jaw, it was the softness of that simple caress that made his final wall crumble at her feet.
That dance hadn't felt like the others, it had felt different, like something was brewing between them, but he didn't dare to hope. He wouldn't ask again, he wouldn't put Emma in that position again. He read confusion in her eyes, but he'd been battling demons all week - figurative and literal - and he was sure his mind was playing tricks on him. But then she'd asked him to wait for her at a motel and his entire world shifted on its axis. Again.
He'd waited impatiently, pacing back and forth, counting the minutes and fearing she wouldn't turn up. The moment he'd opened the door to find her on the other side, his heart beat frantically against his chest. She might have reached for him first, but his lips were soon claiming hers as he wrapped her in his arms.
I'm not here for the money.
All it took was one sentence to make him feel that - at least for one night - everything was right in his world.
Three days had passed since he woke up to just the scent of her on the pillow in that motel room, the memories of their shared night fresh in his mind, but not enough to sate his aching need for her. It had been years - years that felt like centuries - since he had felt so drawn to someone, like moth to a candle, like darkness seeking light until it blinded and burst him into flames.
Killian sighed deeply, running his hand through his hair. He should turn around, should simply walk away, but as he checked his watch and realized it was almost closing time at the club, he knew he was too weak to do that. He was simply not strong enough to resist the temptation.
Ruby cocked an eyebrow at him as he entered, her lips curving in a knowing smile. "Just in time for the final dance of the night, hotshot. Go ahead to the VIP, I'll get Emma over there in a minute." Her voice was teasing, filled with not so hidden meanings and Killian opened his mouth, a protest coming to his lips.
"It's not like - I -" he muttered but Ruby silenced him by placing a perfectly manicured finger against his lips.
"No explanations needed. You're not the first to fall for the Swan. And you won't be the last."
He paced back and forth in the room, Ruby's words still ringing in his ears, reminding him of how not special Killian Jones was and would never be, when Emma entered. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers, and his words of greeting died on his lips as he basked in the beauty of her face. Her eyes widened and he felt a weight press on his shoulders, a stinging feeling that he shouldn't be here, that he shouldn't be happy just because he was seeing her, that he was clearly reading too much into it, making up scenarios in his mind that were naught but delusions of a fairytale happy ending that would never be in the cards for him. So he did what he did best and hid his feelings behind his own walls, pulling his lips into a smug smile and filling his voice with a self-confidence he didn't quite feel.
"Did you miss me?" he asked, shrugging and lifting one eyebrow, hoping she'd fall for his act.
She didn't.
Her eyes scanned his face and he felt his facade crumble underneath the force of her stare. Whatever it was she was looking for, she seemed to find it, because she was by his side in a heartbeat, pulling him by the collar of his shirt and crashing her lips into his in a searing kiss.
"Emma," he breathed when she finally released him, leaving his head spinning from the thorough kiss.
"Shhh," she whispered, her lips brushing his tenderly and he shivered at the softness of the touch.
He let her lead, following as she pulled him into another kiss. She walked them backwards towards the room's plush loveseat, her hands roaming over the planes of his chest.
What was happening wasn't a lap dance. He couldn't even recall if there was any music playing in the background. All he could focus on was the tugging of her teeth on his bottom lip, the way her hands caressed his cheek bones and then buried in his hair as he rut his hips against hers.
It was foreplay. The best kind of intoxicating touches that had his mind dazed with desire, leaving him unable to utter a single, coherent thought as his hands caressed her with a sense of urgent reverence he hadn't felt in years.
Time seemed to stretch, one touch weaving into another, one moment bleeding into the next and yet, it was not enough. It would never be enough.
"Time's up," Emma whispered against his neck, her lips soothing the mark she'd worried into his skin, her breathless voice stirring him even more into life. Her eyes met his, the green almost gone in the dilated black of her pupils, her swollen lips completing a picture he wanted to forever keep in his mind.
"I can be out of here in twenty minutes." Her words were soft, almost inaudible, as if she were afraid to voice her own desires.
His fingers traced a path down her cheek, and he relished when she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. "I'll be waiting," he promised.
There was nothing he could do to hide the clear repercussions their dalliance had on his body, but Killian knew no one would spare a second glance at his aroused state. That was what people came here for, right, to benefit from a tight piece of arse grinding against them and getting off from it? Emma left the room first, her disheveled hair falling loosely down her back, making him long to run his hand through it and then keep going down until he found a home at the base of her spine.
But he knew he couldn't.
He quickly followed, eager to leave this place and meet with Emma at their agreed destination. But fortune didn't seem to favor him, as before he could reach the exit Graham came to him, his hand clasping on his shoulder.
"A word and a drink, my friend?"
"Now, mate?" Killian cocked an eyebrow at him, his voice filled with controlled frustration.
"Do you have something better to do?" Graham asked, his eyes darting from him to Emma, who'd stopped and was watching the scene unfold. Killian's gaze found her eyes, and he wished he could tell Graham to get lost and snatch Emma away from this place. But that was not how things worked in the world they lived in. If Detective Humbert wanted a word with you, you bloody well obliged, or soon enough some early morning runner was sure to find your body ditched in a dumpster.
"No, I have nothing better to do," Killian sighed, plastering a cocky smirk on his face. "But you're buying the good rum, mate."
Graham laughed and clasped his shoulder again, pulling him further into the room. He stole one last glance at Emma and hoped she'd understood the meaning of his stare. She tilted her head in an imperceptible nod and it was all he had to cling onto as he let Humbert direct them to a secluded table, hoping that Emma would choose to wait for him instead.
/-/
He didn't know if she'd waited for him. He didn't even know if she'd come in the first place. Nevertheless, there he stood, paused outside the door of that motel room. He'd ditched Graham as soon as it was possible to do so without raising suspicions or drawing unnecessary attention to himself or his plans for the evening. However, it had still taken him a little over two hours to free himself and make it to the motel.
He hesitated, almost afraid of getting - or not getting - a response. But he had barely finished knocking when the door opened and Emma stood on the other side, a vision with golden curls and a soft smile. His lips curved in response to the smile she gave him, and he drank in her beauty before he reached out to gather her in his arms and kiss her soundly. The moment her lips connected with his everything else fell away and all that existed was the torrent of passion running through them, flooding every part of them. She closed the door forcefully before pushing him against it and dropping to her knees, making a quick work of his belt and zipper.
He wanted to protest, to delay her ministrations, to focus instead on having her whimpering from his own attentions on her, but he couldn't even voice his thoughts before her mouth closed on his cock and he lost all rational thought. She teased and sucked, her wet lips wringing a pleasure from him like he'd never experienced before. He wasn't going to last at this pace. He was going to come embarrassingly fast under her attentions and a part of him couldn't bring himself to care.
But he was always a gentleman. "Emma, love, stop -" he warned her. She released him with a loud pop, lifting her head and giving him a mischievous look.
"Why? You seemed to be having a good time," she purred.
"Aye… a bloody fantastic one," he admitted before he reached for her hand and pulled her up. "But this isn't only about me, darling." His lips brushed hers tentatively. "Sorry I'm late," he whispered.
"You better make it worth the wait," she teased, a carefree tone in her voice that he hadn't heard before and he knew he'd give anything to hear again.
"Let me make it up to you." He brushed a kiss down along her jawline as he walked her towards the bed.
He took his time, slowly removing her clothes and trailing kisses over every patch of skin he revealed, fueled by the breathy gasps that filled the room. When he reached her core, his tongue darted to taste her and his fingers curled inside as he drew a shivering orgasm from her. His senses intoxicated, it wasn't long until he was finally sheathed inside, his body moving in slow, shallow thrusts, dragging out the moment as long as possible before he collapsed above her.
It was later that night, as she traced nonsensical patterns down his chest, that he finally uttered the one question that had been on his mind for days.
"Why me?"
Emma lifted her head, her eyes confused for a moment before she read the meaning behind his question. "Why not you?" she countered and rested her chin over the hand that laid on his chest, staring at him a moment before she shifted her attention and focused on the wall of the room. "I don't really know. You - you stopped touching when I ask you not to. When I said no that second time, you obliged. You don't linger, your eyes don't look at me like I'm a piece of meat." Her lips curved in the hint of a teasing smile as she looked at him and they purposely drew her eyes down to his chest. "You seemed like you could give me a fun time, so why not? It's not like I'm waiting for a Prince Charming to come save me in a dashing rescue and whisk me off to a white picket fence life." She offered a shrug with that the last line.
Killian laughed, his hand tracing her hipbone. "I wouldn't dream of trying to rescue someone who hadn't asked for it. Nor do I fit the hero type," he finished with a hint of self-deprecation.
"No one who sets foot in that place fits the hero type, Killian, and I am not a damsel in need of saving. I don't need someone to come offer me a better life, to snatch me away and give me the life I so-called-deserve." She spat those last words, the bile palpable in them. It didn't take a genius to figure out her meaning.
"Let me guess, some idiot offered to put you up in a nice little apartment with everything taken care of, all with the expectation you'd be his entertainment on the side while he maintained his married life."
Her chuckle was all the confirmation he need to know that he hit the nail on the head.
"You know, it's a job, much like any other," she confessed.
"Aye," he whispered. She may sell some things, he thought to himself, but at least it wasn't her dignity. He wasn't sure he could say the same about himself.
"I haven't -" She gestured between them. "Not in a long time. Or ever with a client." Her tone was that of confession spoken in the middle of a stolen night. "But I don't know, I felt it was worth a shot. I was tired of denying myself the things I wanted…"
"And you wanted me?" he asked in disbelief.
Her eyes found his. "That first night, that first dance? When I asked you why you were there? Do you remember what you said?"
The memory came back to him. "That I was tired of being alone."
She pulled herself closer to him, her nose almost brushing his. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret, I'm pretty good at telling when people are lying." Her eyes bore into his. "That night, you looked right into my eyes and told me the truth."
She leaned in, her lips capturing his in a kiss that quickly turned from soft to searing as she pushed him onto his back and straddled him. "And maybe I was tired of being alone too," she whispered against his skin.
It didn't come as a surprise when he again woke to an empty bed the following morning. He understood why she couldn't stay. It would mean admitting she cared on a deeper level, that for some godforsaken reason she'd decided - almost against her own will - to really care for him. And in the type of life she probably had, he knew she couldn't afford to care for anyone, to be vulnerable.
And he knew he'd never be so lucky, that there was nothing in his cursed existence that would allow for the possibility of her taking a chance with him.
/-/
He wished he could say he was a strong, honorable man. But Killian Jones knew was weak. He'd always been weak, especially when it came to succumbing to temptation.
And so he looked for her. Time after time he returned to that miserable joint, tossing the butt of his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before entering, tilting his head to the side as he greeted Ruby, his eyes already looking for Emma.
Time after time he went into the back room and placed his money on the table as he waited for her. Time after time he lost himself in the way her body moved against his. Time after time he let himself drown in her heavy breaths and wandering lips.
Time after time he met her in that motel room at the wee hours of the morning.
Time after time he fell a little more for her.
But tonight seemed to be different. Her eyes were apologetic when she met him in the VIP room, and they looked almost dull as she sank against him without preamble. She moved back and forth, reaching for his hair as she pulled him to her, seeking his lips hungrily.
"Emma…" he breathed into her skin as she broke the kiss. "Tell me, what is it?"
"I can't meet you tonight." Her voice was barely a whisper as she undid the buttons of his shirt, her nails raking over his chest. "Walsh. He -" She faltered a moment, taking a breath. "He requested a private function."
She didn't say more. She didn't have to. Killian knew very well who Walsh was, both in and outside of the club. He also knew the other man's interest in Emma had been piqued over the last few months. He'd heard the rumors, listened to the leering words tossed around over drinks as he lurked in places no respectable man would find himself in.
Killian Jones knew it all.
So he did what he did best, he drowned in her kisses and fervent touches. He let himself go and let her set the pace, always ready to do her bidding. The way she tugged at his belt buckle insistently had him almost growling.
"I can't - I can't pleasure you properly in here," he protested, his fingers tracing the elastic of her garter and making her shiver as she tossed her head back and ground against him.
"I just need to feel you. Killian, please…"
It was the desperation in her voice that did him in as he surrendered to her touch, to the way she pulled a condom from her knee-high boot and quickly tore the foil package. She had him out of his pants, sheathed, and inside of her before he could even breathe. The pleasure of her walls dragging against him as she moved frantically in his lap was almost too much, but he wasn't going to come until he made sure she had a good time, or at least the best time he could give her under these circumstances.
He pressed his hands into the flesh of her thighs and slowed her movements, guiding her pace to allow her core to grind against him with each roll of her hips. His lower back muscles strained as he thrust up with each movement, leaving them both panting and almost teetering over the edge. His thumb reached to circle around her clit and he pulled her into a searing kiss, muffling her moans as she came breathlessly against him. He rode out her orgasm until she was almost boneless on top of him before a few hard thrusts had him coming, the effect almost intoxicating when she pressed her forehead against his.
It was a moment or two before she spoke, although frankly it could have been centuries as he felt himself lost in a haze. "Thank you. I needed that to push through tonight. The way his hands..."
She trailed off and he felt her shivering in a completely different way than she had minutes earlier. He searched for her mouth, kissing her as if he were a man possessed and she the only cure in the world for him. When he pulled away, he disentangled her from him carefully, reaching to discard the condom before he tucked himself back into his pants and reached for her one more time. She kissed him long and deep before she retreated to the exit. He followed, not wanting to let her go.
She turned and leaned into him. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" she asked against his lips.
"I can't," he said with a shake of his head. "I have to leave town for a few days. I have a skip to chase, among other things." He hated the words coming out of his mouth, hated leaving her even if what they had was nothing more than heated encounters in a trashy motel. He hated it all, and yet he knew he had to go and do someone else's dirty work for them. Again.
He watched as her face faltered for a brief second before she pulled her walls up and gave him a seductive smile. "Be careful," she said as she reached to place a soft kiss on his cheek.
But Killian wasn't ready for her to leave, not yet. So he pressed her against the wall, his body covering hers from head to toe as he kissed every bit of skin he could reach, slowly dropping to his knees, his hand tracing a line through her garter.
"Killian," she whined as she started to grind against him.
"Just a few more minutes, love," he begged as he once again pushed her underwear to the side and tossed her leg over his shoulder, closing his mouth on her.
She gasped and then moaned, thrusting and grinding against his mouth and fingers as he quickly drew another release from her, nearly working himself up into another as he did. He took a deep breath as he kissed his way back up to her mouth. She pulled him into a last, searing kiss.
"I'll see you when I come back then?" he asked, his breath coming into short pants as he tried to hold onto her for one more fleeting moment.
"You know where to find me." Her fingers grazed the front of his pants as she departed and he moaned, his forehead pressing against the door she just left through.
/-/
The day seemed to go by in a blur, passing one car after the other on the road, trying desperately to keep his mind focused on the job ahead instead of on the memories of her blonde hair and pale skin. He kept his eyes on the road and his attention on the task ahead as he finally made it to town and checked into his crappy motel. One look at the room told him he really wanted to spend as little time as possible in there. So he found a bar a few blocks away and ordered his usual rum, wanting to get drunk enough to keep the memories at bay.
He was on his second glass when he finally checked his phone. He found a few missed calls from a couple unknown numbers, but no messages. He was wondering about that when his phone rang again, the display showing Graham's name.
"Isn't it a little early to check on me?" he asked, not giving Graham a chance to talk. Killian was too tired to keep his frustration at the other man's scrutiny at bay.
"Killian, I've been trying to reach you… you have to come back into town."
"Come back? Graham, I just got here after driving all bloody day. My only plans are to get drunk and pass out on my crappy motel room in less than an hour. Why the fuck would I want to go back?"
There was a shuffling noise followed by Ruby's voice coming across the line, panic and fear evident in her words. "Killian, you need to get back here. It's Emma."