A little late night encounter. Definitely Rated M. All rights/characters belong to OUAT - I own nothing!
It took one quick sweep of her pantry for Emma to settle with the facts - she knew absolutely nothing about being hospitable to a vampire. She sighed heavily as she scanned the labels of various snacks and drink mixes. Leaning her head in the cabinet, she realized she'd have to chalk this up to one of the rare instances of 'common courtesy backlash'. Dammit.
She'd been excited to see him, her subtle giddiness magnified when she watched him stand in the door frame while awaiting permission. He looked almost happy - even though she knew the conversation he'd come to have might share that quality. His eyes were a tired blue, almost as if he'd been warring with a lack of rest. Well, supposing he actually did sleep regularly - she'd have to add that one to her list of questions. He looked the tiniest bit uneasy, his posture slightly standoffish as he tried to appear braver than he obviously felt. It was almost like he believed he wasn't welcome. She hoped she might be able to change that.
A faint blush covered her cheeks as she remembered how she'd ended up burying herself in the current task. It had started with a need to fill the vacant space between them once he'd finally crossed the threshold into her house, her words welcoming and kind - even if she'd chosen to lead with a totally idiotic question. Yes, asking him if he wanted something to drink had left her stumbling over her ironic inquiry and falling straight into his amused gaze. He was obviously offering up that sly, devilishly handsome smirk to taunt her. Bastard.
It had been the kind of look that may have summoned fright in someone who knew what he was, but Emma couldn't find her fears regarding him. He didn't terrify her. He didn't spike her nerves - well, not in reference to him being undead anyway. She supposed it was the years she'd spent chasing away her own demons that kept her from being so wary of his. Truthfully, she was more nervous about the part of him that seemed very much alive - that adorably arrogant yet smoldering stubborn part of him. That's the man who gave her the chills.
She continued her exasperating search through the cupboards, trying to locate something that might appeal to the taste of the literally damned man in her living room. She was fresh out of anything with alcohol, the previous two nights of regret the cause of that misfortune. Coffee? No, that would keep him up all night. Wait - he was already rather nocturnal….so did it matter?
Emma leaned her head against the wood shelf, trying not to figure out how to avoid any other obvious puns. She reached for an open box of pop tarts and stared hard at the nutrition facts. She had to find something since she wasn't about to put herself on any side of the menu - though it wasn't likely he'd accept the offer if she did.
"Everything okay?"
Emma's body went rigid as she jumped at the voice, the careful tone making her jump. She turned to face the originating direction. He stood in the doorway with that expression of uncertainty on his face. His hair was longer now somehow and it hung slightly over his reserved stare. His lips looked smooth as he ran his tongue over the lower one, biting it nervously as he waited for her response. She hadn't seen him quite this edgy before, his feet antsy as if he was walking on broken glass. Letting out a sigh, Emma wondered if he might allow her to lighten the mood.
"Yeah, I'm good - I just….don't tell me you need an invitation to enter the kitchen too," she smirked, tapping her fingers on the counter. "I can't go handing those out to anyone, Jones."
"Aye, I'd hope not," he smiled weakly. "Welcoming just anyone doesn't sound particularly wise."
"Yet here you are. You can come a little closer though," she assured him, hoping her eyes were encouraging. "I don't have the plague….but even if I did, you've got experience dealing with that, right?"
"Sorry, love," he laughed, raising an eyebrow. "I missed that little tragedy by a few centuries."
"Not as old as you act then," she grinned as she pulled a mug from the cupboard.
"Funny, Swan," he replied, a genuine smile finally finding his lips. "I like to think my demeanor is rather youthful….or 'hip' as people say nowadays."
Emma felt her stomach flutter a bit at the way the tension had softened in the room. He'd looked a bit haunted when he arrived, his eyes that same distant blue they'd been when he told her about the trials of war during their last conversation. He'd had that almost ghostlike appearance with his skin pale and his eyes widely searching. It was refreshing to see him find a sliver of that confidence again as smiled subtly. She watched him scratch at the rather thick stubble along as jaw, the shadows playing with the contours of his face. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, Emma tried to hold back the gasp threatening to escape her.
God, why did he have to be so good looking?
He rocked on his heels a bit, his top teeth pressing into his lower lip just slightly. Emma allowed her stare to lock onto the motion of his mouth as she tried to figure out why she wasn't afraid of him. Given the way he'd taken off post bite - well, more like a nibble really - it was clear that even he was afraid of what he might do to her in a heated moment. The really scary part of the whole thing was Emma's realization that maybe she wanted him to do those things. Maybe she wanted him to lose a little control.
"Tea?"
"Huh?"
"Just asking what you're brewing there," he clarified with a nod to the cup. "Should I be on the lookout for poison?"
"No poison," Emma smirked. "Garlic on the other hand-"
"Really into this, aren't you? The whole stereotype thing?"
"Well, I don't see you jumping at the chance to set the record straight," she commented, tilting her head. "I mean you said you wanted to talk, right?"
"I wanted to apologize," he told her as he moved further into the room. "The other night was….I just….that never happens. Well, at least it hasn't in a very long time. I needed you to know that I didn't mean to hurt you. I'd never want to hurt you."
"You mean you haven't….bitten someone? At least, not for a while?"
He shuddered slightly at her question and his jaw clenched, a response that caused a tingle to run down Emma's spine. She didn't mean to sound harsh - being blunt and to the point just seemed to fit the bill. They were a bit beyond pleasantries now and there was something in his eyes that made her think he liked her directness. Well, maybe he just liked her in general.
"Emma, I just meant-"
"Can you….fly?"
Emma couldn't stop the nonsensical question from leaving her lips and her eyes grew slightly mortified as she realized what she'd just inquired. Why in the hell was she even wondering such a thing? Killian's stare was slightly confused as his lips curved upward in amusement.
"You've certainly developed some rather interesting beliefs about my kind, love," he smiled, his teeth brilliantly white. "But no - I've yet to acquire that ability."
"So it's all just a bunch of lies?"
"Hmmm," he pondered, cocking his head to the side. "I suppose that depends on what is included in this 'all' you speak of."
"Well, the usual folklore I guess," Emma shrugged, swirling a spoon in the simmering mug. "The silver, the holy water, the mind control. Do you do….I mean, does any of that apply?"
He leaned back carefully against the opposite counter, his shoulders tense as he gave her one of his more serious expressions. He obviously knew what she was alluding to. There was no point in avoiding the question she truly need answered.
"Have you ever done that-" she asked, swallowing her nerves. "-with me?"
"No, Emma," he said softly, his gaze an honest blue. "Never. Your thoughts and decisions are your own, lass. I'd never try to alter those by taking hold of your mind."
The promise made her heart swell. She barely knew this man and she knew even less about what he truly was, but yet he seemed to respect her much more than most men in her past. He had an honorable nature about him that wasn't expected and she tried to process that as she set the spoon down to face him.
"So not controlling them," she continued. "But reading them?"
"Can't say I'm completely innocent in trying," he blushed, scratching behind his ear. "But your mind isn't easy to navigate, love. I figured that my trouble in finding out what's going on in that head of yours is a sign that I shouldn't continue to pry."
"Well, thank you then," she said hesitantly. "I guess."
"Aye," he smirked. "Oddly enough I've found I don't need to investigate your thoughts, Swan. You're something of an open book."
"Oh?"
He nodded with that knowing expression and Emma felt her face redden slightly. He wasn't lying - he could see right through her. She needed to know why he took such pride in that. What was so special about her?
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything, love."
"Well," she said, biting her lip. "Why….why do you care about me? I mean, you don't know anything about me. I could have very easily turned out to be just some other patient you fixed up and sent home - but you're here….and you were at the drugstore."
"Ah, yeah, well," he hesitated, smirking with a small shake of his head. "It's a long story - too long for now. But let's just say that I might know you better than you know yourself."
"Oh, please," Emma grinned. "I don't think you could handle knowing much about me. My life is complicated, Killian."
"I'd venture it's even more so now," he commented, his smile weak as he lifted an eyebrow. "When it comes down to it, perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it."
Emma's breath left her throat in a stuttering gasp, her surprise at his words far too evident. That familiar fire settled in his heavy gaze and the blue color always found there burned hot. Her fingers were wrapped carefully around the handle of the mug and the steam was steadily rising as they fell into a tempting staring contest. Wait - what was the actual temptation here? It wasn't as if she wanted him. Watching the way his thick dark hair fell across his forehead to shield that bold blue was causing her to wonder what she really did want.
"Whoa, lass," he said quickly, appearing quickly at her side and saving the beverage she'd nearly dragged off the counter in her stupor. "Careful. If that drink takes a tumble, the only thing either of us will be handling is the best way to clean up the floor."
His body was cold as he set the porcelain mug back on the counter behind her, his hands resting on either side of her while his hips nearly kept her pinned against the cabinets. It was difficult to maintain a clear focus with him so close, but Emma silently added 'superhuman strength and speed' to her list of truths. She was caged in his intent driven embrace when the scorching feel of lust fully overwhelmed her. She wanted to know how it would feel for him to press harder - or how it might feel if he touched her. God knows how much she now wanted to do more than simply touch him.
She was still in a desperate search for her composure when he gained that predatory and sinful expression, his labored breaths prompting his eyes to lock onto her hand. Emma had been so consumed by moment that nearly led to a shattered cup that she failed to noticed the sharp edge of a small chip in the mug. Her thumb had caught the dish's barely noticeable flaw before he'd dashed to rescue it and the nicked flesh suddenly beamed at Emma without hindrance.
Her finger was bleeding - and he'd taken notice of that long before she did.
"Son of a….errr, thanks," she stammered, her body going rigid. "Sorry about that. I should get this cleaned up."
"Lucky it's not worse, love," he assured her as he stared down at the tiny wound in vague fascination. "You're alright?"
"Another instance of 'right place, right time' for you, Jones," she replied, peeling away from him to grab a rag. "You've made a habit of that so far - this whole saving me thing."
"You have never struck me as the type to need saving, Emma," he told her. "Although being more careful certainly wouldn't be a terrible plan."
"Yeah, probably true," she agreed, her eyes darting down to the small prick of blood on her thumb. "Sorry I should...I mean, I'll just….so it doesn't bother you-"
"It's okay - it doesn't bother me," he said with darkened eyes. "Not at all, Swan."
The truth was etched in his expression, a desirable darkness that overrode any anxiety she might have felt about him catching sight of the red threatening to run down her skin. Truthfully, nothing about him frightened her the way it should. She couldn't help the longing to know why.
"So do you want to-" she started shakily. "-help me with it….I mean since….well, since you're a doctor? Even though it's hardly anything serious-"
"Aye, I can help," he conceded, looking up at her earnestly after slightly elevating her hand. "Do you….do you trust me?"
Did she - or should she? Emma's head spun with the question, the nod of her head an unconscious effort that seemed to give him the permission he was seeking. What he planned to do with that was not obvious - well, until he worried his already swollen lower lip with his straight, skilled teeth. Enlightenment hit Emma like lightning and she swallowed hard when he pulled the cut fingertip to his lips. The small stroke of blood landed on his lips as he sucked the thumb into his mouth, his tongue soothing the tiny injury as he pulled a little more than a taste from the pricked skin. A low moan left his throat as he savored her in a manner that was strangely erotic. His eyes were nearly black, a deep navy blue that made her feel things she knew might lead down a dangerous road. She didn't care. Danger hadn't ever looked quite this appealing and like hell if she wasn't going to find out why.
"Killian..."
He paused, pulling back slightly with a hint of fear in his eyes. Her voice had conjured up his name without consent and she froze as he wiped the blood from his lower lip.
"Emma, I'm….I'm sorry-"
"Hey, no," she shushed him, grabbing his wrist with her free hand. "Don't do that."
He analyzed her touch, pursing his lips together as he lifted his fingers to graze hers. The feel of his skin was cold yet anything but lifeless. Emma could still feel the velvety, hot stroke of his tongue against her thumb and it nearly made her entire body tremble. Killian Jones was somehow very much alive.
"You don't-" he paused, arching an eyebrow. "-want me to stop?"
Emma didn't know why she wasn't able to reply. She didn't know why she couldn't tell him what she really wanted. She closed her eyes briefly as her fingers threaded through his, relishing the feel of his touch. She could hear his stuttering breath as he stared a hole right through her and the instant her eyes shot back open wide, his lips fused to hers with a passion that was sure to end her. His hands cupped the side of her face harder than he probably intended, his fingers running through her tangles of wavy hair as her lower back abruptly hit the edge of the counter. Her soft moan filled the space between them as he deepened the kiss, jerking her closer with the strong hand between her shoulder blades.
Speed surrounded Emma as she lost herself in the feel of his lips and the coaxing of his tongue. Her pulse was rapid as her back met the cool surface of the refrigerator, several stray magnets tumbling to the hardwood floor with a clatter. She'd barely processed the sound when she felt the wood siding of the door frame align with her spine as he braced her against it. Emma's mind was spinning as he growled softly into her mouth, his well defined torso pressed hard against her boneless body as he held her close. His weight against hers was intoxicating and Emma finally regained enough composure to take control of the kiss, her teeth nipping gently at his swollen bottom lip.
"Emma…"
His raspy voice was full of warning and his struggle to pull back seemed to be a true challenge. His thumbs indented into her hips with a strong and tempting intent as he stationed his well worn sneakers on the floor. It should have been humorous in a way - this sarcastic, sexy, seemingly gentleman of a vampire in black Converse kissing the hell out of her against a select variety of surfaces in her kitchen. It wasn't though. It was captivating. It was arousing. It was hot - blazing, scorching, bone burning hot.
"Killian, you don't have to stop," she said softly, her lips barely brushing his. "I mean I don't want you to stop."
"Emma," he breathed as his eyes fell closed. "I don't want to hurt you-"
"Then you won't," she cut him off, moving her hands to rest at the back of his scalp. "Just kiss me."
He hesitated only briefly, the tension snapping after a fraction of a second as he dove back into the kiss Emma knew she would never get enough of. He groaned when her hands drifted down his back to his waist, her fingertips tracing the hem of his jeans. He smiled against her lips just slightly and Emma moved to rest her hand against his belt, toying with the end of it as his body seemed to go rigid.
God, what was he going to do to her?
A thousand possibly answers to that question were still running through her brain when his lips moved down her jaw to her neckline, sucking tentatively as he moved further down her body. His tongue traced the vein that had to be throbbing along her throat, his lips tender and cautious as they follow the trail. Emma tried to stabilize her rational mind and alert her senses to his possibly dangerous actions to no avail. She was too far gone.
"I won't," he almost whispered. "I promised I wouldn't hurt you…."
"Not unless I want you to, right?" she replied, shivering at the way his smiling reaction felt against her neck.
"Aye," he grinned with a cunning stare. "But even then-"
"We don't have to talk about that right now," she decided, her fingers back at the waist of his jeans as she tugged on the denim to pull him closer. "I like this."
"Oh," he smirked, laying a soft kiss on her lips. "This?"
"Yes," she exhaled with a wanting sound. "That."
His mouth moved with fervor, ravishing her jaw down to her neck as his thumb toyed with the seam of her pants. He pressed gently along the stitching, moving his touch down her center until he hit a very sensitive spot - the one she'd been aching for him to find since the second his hands started their exploration. The pad of his thumb moved in a tauntingly slow circular pattern and Emma tried desperately to bite back the pleading sound rising in her throat. She failed almost instantly and he seemed to revel in the sound, his lips kissing the space just under her ear.
"And this?"
"Mmmm," Emma moaned. "Yes, t-that too."
His finger and thumb worked in tandem, flipping the button on her jeans and pulling the zipper so the denim loosened. His touch was blunt and rapid as his fingertips skimmed the lacy hem of her underwear, the fine fabric suddenly on fire as his hand pulled it down just enough. Emma didn't have time to anticipate his actions as his fingers brushed against the heat radiating between her legs.
"Bloody hell, Emma," he groaned, his lips rough on her collarbone. "You are drenched, love."
Emma allowed her nails to run up the back of his neck, digging into his scalp as she let out a broken gasp. Killian fingers moved slowly, pushing inside as her head fell backward. His eyes evolved into that deep blue bewildered shade as he watched her breath stutter and her skin flush. It was erotic in ways Emma had never even dreamed of.
She closed her eyes briefly as a rush of space filled her mind. Her stare snapped wide open again the second she felt the cold wood of her kitchen table against her back. He'd moved them - again and almost without her noticing. His speed was intoxicating and he hovered above her, completely enraptured as his fingers thrust a little harder. Emma exhaled hard, her body vibrating under his touch as he drove her to the point of ecstasy only to pull back again. He was teasing her - and god, he was good at it.
"Killian…"
"God, Emma," he mumbled, his mouth tracing her jaw as his fingers moved back and forth. "You should see yourself, love. You are so beautiful."
His words were wrapped in that raspy, wanting tone - the one that emphasized his accent and made Emma's blood simmer. She wondered if he sensed that. She wondered if that fact might entice him further. She tried to straighten out her thoughts, her brain sorting out what she truly wanted from this man and his obvious talent. Did she want him to consume her? To destroy her? To bite her?
"No, love," he said softly, his lips brushing against hers. "Not this time. I just want….let me take care of you."
Well, so much for not reading her mind. As his fingers worked diligently, winding her up and pulling her back down, Emma couldn't find a way to be upset with him.
"Killian," she pleaded in a near whisper. "Just….please. I need-"
"I know what you need, love," he breathed, sucking gently on her neckline. "Hold onto me."
Emma wasn't sure how she broke through the haze in her head to follow his direction, but her arms clasped gently around his neck. Killian growled lowly, moving his fingers more firmly as she rode them. His breath was heavy and Emma felt her heart racing as the pleasure began to heighten between her legs. His mouth was hot against her skin, the feel of it making her wonder about his fangs and what they might feel like during such a passionate bite. He'd told her not yet, but Emma hoped for later - and the lust laced efforts of his body told her that he had a similar desire. There was no returning from this instant - he was going to ruin her.
"Emma, come," he coaxed, his body pressing hard on hers. "Let go, love."
She unraveled with a needy moan, her lips finding his as she fell over the edge she'd been teetering on for what felt like ages. Pleasure filled every inch of her body as he helped her come back to reality, a rather sweet smirk on his face as he leaned down for a kiss that was oddly tender. As he pulled back slowly, Emma found herself lost between the man's current standing and the life he'd once had. He was a mix of the two, more alive than many people actually were - and that realization trapped her in a realm of emotions she couldn't even begin to decipher.
"Hey," he said softly, a half smile on his lips. "You okay?"
"Yeah - I'm….fine," she sighed, shaking her head slightly. "More than fine."
"You certainly know how to test a man's ego, don't you?"
"Mmmm," she hummed, blinking lazily. "Like you need it."
"I need several things, love," he laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "The first is to get that finger of yours properly bandaged."
"Isn't that what got us into this position in the first place?"
"It seems so," he quipped, raising his eyebrow. "I knew being employed in the medical field would provide me with a few interesting opportunities."
"So some quick work with a band-aid," she replied, ignoring his taunt and running a hand down his thigh. "Then what?"
"Hmmm," he said, biting his lip. "Well, you offered me a cup of tea, right?"
Emma rolled her eyes at his decision, knowing full well he wasn't going to allow her to reciprocate in any way. No, Killian Jones seemed to delight in her pleasure enough to forgo his own - well, at least for now. She'd change that eventually.
"Fine," she said, her lips achingly close to his. "But you suck - you know that, right?"
"Oh, love, you have no idea."