A/N: Each of these chapters are going to be mostly separate entries. Each one will change in mood and overall tone depending on the place and action. Not all of the chapter will include kinks, but fetish type things and different types of sexual encounters. Just putting that out there. This particular chapter is lighter in tone. There aren't any moments of profoundness or angsty issues addressed, but that's not the point for this particular scene. Hope you still enjoy as I hope that it is still full of smuty material that is always fun to read. I have some serious plans as this story progresses so stay tuned and I hope you enjoy it.

Dressing Room/Confessions

Maybe it had been triggered, in part, by boredom. That day they had already been particularly drained of interest. The weather had been misty and cold. Henry was in school. Work had been slow. Shopping had just been something that passed the time as well as a necessity. Even durable jeans didn't last forever. And maybe it hadn't helped when he had sought Emma's approval for each new pair he tried on.

But that look in her eyes had been unmistakable. Starting where the denim bunched around his boots and working upward. Emma glanced to either side before walking him backward, ignoring the incessant chime as they passed into the fitting room. His reflection rippled as he was backed into a mirror.

Killian checked over her shoulder, up and down the aisle, then guided her into the room he'd been using. Emma was impatient. Her lips and hungry fingers vying for his attention as he tried to work the door closed. The space was cramped. The door only just managed to close around them. Her knees buckled against the square ledge meant to be a seat and she pulled him with her as she fell.

He was completely enraptured in letting her worm her hands under his shirt, in the unrelenting wandering of her mouth, the rush of her enthusiasm paralyzing him. She rose to her knees on the bench, stretching to reach his lips, yanking him lower with a hand on the back of his head. Their lips and tongues clashed chaotically, fumbling over each other like inexperienced teenagers. The onslaught had him grinning into each eager kiss.

Emma caught her breath, hovering near his face. Her eyes were closed and her fingers held the front of his shirt. "Can't say I've ever actually done this before." She laughed and then muffled the sound with her hand. His eyes lingered on the impatient flexing of her fingers against the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"And you never forget your first."

She fell against him as they shared muted laughter. Emma licked her lips, watching his mouth as she rolled her shoulders. "Speaking of…I guess it doesn't matter if I tell you this now…" She bit her lip, the faintest blush tinting her skin.

Killian brought up his hand, running knuckles over her cheek. "Is this a confession?"

"Maybe." Her eyes lowered.

He dipped his head, stealing a quick kiss. "If you're confessing to wanting me since that fated day on that beanstalk…" He smirked against her cheek. "That's not exactly a secret, love. But I'd gladly hear you admit it."

Her head rolled backward, drawing his lips to her throat. "Not what I was going to say." Her fingers threaded through his hair before lifting his head so she could meet his eyes. Stormy sea green eyes laced with a provocative desire that begged to be tempered. "When we finished climbing…you bandaged my hand?" The tip of her finger traced his mouth. "With your teeth? Well, for a second there," Her eyes worked their way up his face, "Was more than a little distracting. And…under different circumstances…might have actually succeeded—"

They didn't attempt to be quiet. Mouths open and devouring each moan. Teeth collided. Elbows banged into the narrowed walls and rattled the frame. The sudden force of her against him threw his balance and they fell, slamming his head backward and sending another clatter through the partitions.

He spoke in a gasp, "Giants…" Emma's tongue filled his mouth. "…cannot smell…" his teeth caught her bottom lip, "…blood."

She lifted her head away and her eyes narrowed, but the sudden repeated chiming at the door halted any talking. They tried to keep their breathing even, less heavy. They followed the sound of footsteps as they passed by their stall. There was no space between the door and floor, but they could see shoes through the angled slots. Emma was still pinning them both to the wall and neither dared to move. A door opened further down. Then the gentle clink of hangers on hooks.

Emma berated him with her eyes, still not daring to speak. Amusing as her pursed lips and forced indignation were he wasn't distracted as easily. One handed he maneuvered the button of her jeans. Emma's eyes went wide as the edges of her jeans were casually worked aside. In the heated silence he could see her mind warring, hear the slamming of her heart and the occasional shuffling of whoever had entered the fitting room.

"Don't." She warned with a shake of her head, but she was grinning. The elastic of her waistband stretched against his fingers. Emma's eyes fell, lips parting and jaw locking. Her voice was low and dark, "You even think about…"

A twist of his wrist halted her warning and her eyes fluttered. Their position was still not ideal. Awkward straining of limbs as they slid as quietly as possible to the floor. He attempted to direct her back onto the bench. The glare she sent him was murderous, but there was no remorse as he matched it. His arm was pulled along with her waist until she was seated, her arms spread up the walls to keep balance. Finding a better angle his hand dove, earning a quiet hiss from Emma.

"While we're confessing…" He was deliberate in toying with her. Drawing out maddening lines until warmth soaked his fingers. "You should know that while you might have won that sword fight by the portal." He kissed up her neck gently, pressing with his lips along with each intentioned thrust of his hand. "But only because I wasn't trying." His left arm was braced against the wall and she clung to it as her glances of protest melted into stifled groans. Working down the barrier of her clothes, his thumb began to search in slow arcs until he heard that quick hiss of breath. A smug grin spread to his eyes as he continued delicate wandering over her neck. "Had you not landed on that compass, there was every possibility of me taking my chances with more preferred activities."

The amount of satisfaction he found in watching her—restrained twitches of her mouth, the rolling of her neck, the gentle rise and fall of eyelashes—in every way that directly responded to him was a hazardous blend of exhilaration and impatience. The friction of smooth wet skin against calloused fingers every bit as frustrating as it was arousing. Each second, each jerk of her hips, each muted gasp hit him like bricks until his head was falling onto her shoulder in complete distraction.

The sensation of hurried hands pulled at the hem of his jeans. The balance of power shifted again, knocking him backwards once more and engaging another fit of trembling throughout the fitting room. In each rushed intake of air there was a slackened awareness to their surroundings. When Emma's hands had finally moved enough material and lithe fingers folded over him, she had to leap forward, swallowing the unconscious rise of sound from his throat. She had him pressed into the corner, her hand working in metered strokes. Kissing wasn't an option or they wouldn't have been able to breathe.

They were getting loud again. The wall beginning to creak in time with their actions and hiding it from no one. Vaguely they registered the tapping of the stall door on its hinges and a few huffed mutterings before the chime at the entrance was ringing. The faintest grin lit his face before he was hitting his head backward. Emma had moved to her knees, removing each boot before throwing the pants he had meant to buy somewhere behind them. Heat was starting to build in that cramped space and it was nearly distracting. Nearly. And there was no fathomable end to his appreciation for the position and angle of the room's two mirrors.

Wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, Emma rose to her feet. She attempted arrogance, a haughty tilt to her chin. As he caught his breath he regarded that self-satisfied smirk. If she thought this was over she was sorely mistaken. He caught her waist and pulled her closer. He ran his face over her hair, savoring the flavor of her scent as he began edging down her jeans.

Their eyes met when he pulled away from her hair and the superior air in her eyes darkened. There were no more shared words. No further teasing. A gentleman always returns a favor. And Killian Jones was always a gentleman.