Just a baby bit inspired by the CS filming photos from last night, but not set in that moment, instead some random time in the future.
They've done this, walking together and talking, since the very beginning of their relationship from distrustful foe to forever companion. Their journeys have covered the tree lined paths of the Enchanted Forest to the thick jungles of Neverland, the depths of the Underworld to every corner of this mystical town they now call home. Each step taken has been a thread that has woven their bond into this unbreakable force, an oceans deep love bound by desire, friendship, understanding and respect.
Fears have been forced to the surface, bluffs called, fights won and lost. They've concocted plans that have failed, prevailed, twisted and crumbled, together in partnership no matter the outcome. It's why they still make time for this, sometimes as dawn breaks the horizon, or after a late lunch with greasy fingertips clasped without care. But this time is his favorite, just past midnight when the rest of Storybrooke is abed and it feels as though the town is quieting just for them.
It's been months since the last crisis, making him slightly weary of impending doom, his eyes constantly scanning for Grumpy around every new corner. The prevailing feeling, however, is one of contentment and perhaps, on this night, a bit of youthful recklessness. He hasn't let them get far, the scrape along his knuckles from the last wall he pushed her against a less than gentle reminder of his antics. The sweet chocolate flavor from the shake she'd refused to share lingers on his tongue, the remnants melting now on the sidewalk behind them. He hadn't meant for her to drop it, truly. His need to kiss her had simply overwhelmed her coordination, her protests turning to sighs against his unhurried exploration of her lips.
Now, back on their path to nowhere in particular, all he can think of is finding the next corner, some secluded nook where he can kiss her again. He looks to her to gauge her mood, hoping to see a similar inclination. He's momentarily distracted by tip of her tongue disappearing between her lips, the sheen of moisture left behind making her bottom lip glisten deliciously in the glow of the streetlight. Their eyes meet briefly as her gaze falls reflexively to his lips in return, this dance one they've mastered (perfect partners and all that). This time he lets her take the lead.
The knowledge that Granny could sniff them out at any moment only charges the air around them, doesn't deter him from cupping Emma's breast over her shirt the second her thigh pushes between his legs. At some point they'll go home, bring this evening to its proper conclusion in their bed, but for now, this is all they need. Other nights they can deal with sacrifices and declarations, true love confirmations and resurrections. Tonight, he just wants to kiss her senseless and steal a few touches, revel in her desire to do the same. With her teeth nipping at his lower lip and his hand sliding further towards the gentle curve of her backside, he refocuses his mind on the task at hand. Aiming for love marked skin and clothes slightly askew, he twists them until her back is pressed to brick, adding another to the growing collection of scrapes along his knuckles.
Later, much later, with bodies spent and consciousness fading, he feels the ghosting of her healing lips along those same battered knuckles. He stops her before the last mark disappears, whispering that some scars are worth keeping.