The heat is rising, folks. Beware the rating :] also, I apologize in advance for any incorrect translations - Google and I don't always see eye to eye! All right/character/my soul belong to the writers and creators of OUAT. I own nothing.

It hadn't taken long for Emma to get used to him and to….well, whatever this was that they were doing. She didn't dare label it. She found she almost didn't need to. Waking up wrapped in his dark silk sheets and often also in his mysterious blue stare was strangely satisfying. It wasn't at all what she expected when she opened her eyes to him in the hospital doorway that morning, but then again, there was absolutely no way she could have planned for such a thing.

Falling for the undead doctor who was cloaked in danger and that sultry sex appeal wasn't something one could anticipate.

The room was still dark when her gaze fluttered open the morning after her interrupted stakeout, the curtains pulled loosely over the windows in his grandiose bedroom. The glowing embers of the fire he'd lit the night before were simmering within the ashes under the mantle and Emma couldn't help but reminisce the way he looked in the firelight. Her memory hung on the shadows the dull glow cast on his face and the way the flickering flame seemed to define every little curve of his muscles. Somehow, it even emphasized that quickly darkening navy blue of his eyes.

Though he wasn't a slave to it like many books or legends would say, the night had certainly taken to Killian Jones over the decades. It was his element and he looked damn good in the mysterious shroud of blackness it often provided.

"You're awake."

His voice was lazy and sweet, tied up with that accent Emma was quite accustomed to now. He leaned against the door frame in a way that certainly shouldn't be as seductive as she was finding it, but it seemed her life had recently become an endless task of how to go about resisting this man. His chest was bare and the pattern of dark hair that covered his skin seemed to tease her from a distant. He wore a pair of black sweatpants and they clung weakly to his hips as he toyed with the red stone ring on his finger. Emma wasn't sure how he could look so endearing and so drop dead sexy all at once, but he definitely did - ignoring the obvious pun of course.

"Mmmm," she acknowledged, offering him a soft smile. "So are you. The dawn of the dead or something like that it would appear."

"Clever as always, Swan," he grinned as he slid back into bed with her. "Sorry I wasn't here. I ran out to grab some more firewood and you looked too peaceful to wake."

"But coincidentally, you made it back just in time to see me do just that," she commented, analyzing his features. "Or was that not just a coincidence?"

He pursed his lips as he furrowed those over expressive eyebrows, staring up at the wood beams that criss crossed overhead. The inquiry was obviously a bit off putting, even though Emma was fairly certain he'd known this conversation would evolve eventually. She'd never been coy when it came to questioning his supernatural side and this was no different. He'd bitten her - more than once now actually. She had trusted him enough in those moments to know that he would keep her free of the hazardous consequences - well, as much as he could at least.

But what about the ones he couldn't control?

"Ah - that," he said finally, tearing his eyes from the ceiling to meet hers. "You want to know if we're bound."

He said it as near fact and as if he'd been teetering on just how to answer her for a while now. Emma felt her eyes widen at his straightforward reply. He'd obviously been thinking about it too.

"I know that little bit of legend has been rumored for a long time, lass," he started, intertwining their fingers. "But I'd venture to say that it probably doesn't work the way you think it does."

"Hmmm….okay," she pondered, squeezing his hand. "I'm listening then."

"It's not about control - I mean, it can be, but it's not like that with us," he explained. "I don't want to hold sway over you, Emma."

"I know that," she nodded. "But if it's not about control, then what-"

"It's about safety," he continued, sighing around his words. "It's about my ability to….to protect you. It's more like a connection. It will ward off anything that could bring you harm, love. I've told you that I won't hurt you, Emma. The blood bond merely ensures that no one else will have the opportunity to do so either."

The way he looked at her so nervously was almost cute, but the blue sadness there made her curious about why he needed such security. Vague thoughts turned over in her mind as she considered the history lingering in his stare. The man had been through more than a century of life - of course he'd have his share of tragedy. She couldn't help but wonder just what or who that loss entailed - and just how much he blamed himself for it.

Oh, Killian Jones and his endless guilt streak. She constantly wished that was the unreal part of him.

"Ever since you - well, since I….drank from you," he attempted, stumbling over the appropriate phrasing. "I can sense you. I can….feel what you're feeling."

"Ah, I see," she replied, trying to hide her blushing realization. "So….is that…."

His lips curved up in a knowing smirk, his eyes dancing with sudden mischief. She'd wondered how he'd known when he showed up with that heated stare and his fingers flexed firmly against the hood of her car. The mood lightened just slightly before it became another sort of tense - the kind that made Emma think about the control they'd both lacked the night before.

"Aye, love, it is," he breathed, pulling her a little closer as he answered her abandoned question. "Though I don't think I could have ever imagined the circumstances I found you in."

"Hmmm, is that disappointment I hear? I could have just-"

"Not one bit, darling," he grinned as he kissed her softly. "Merely made me wish I'd shown up sooner. Starting without me could almost be considered bad form."

"My apologies then, Dr. Jones," she mumbled, tilting her head so he could continue the trail his mouth was wandering. "I just….I needed a distraction."

"For which I was your first thought," he noted. "But I would have made sure I was there had I known you were desiring my presence so….vividly."

"Oh, please," she teased in return. "You were working, Killian. I mean, reliability with saving lives seems necessary if you're going to keep your job."

"True, but I'm here now," he retorted, rising and dropping his hands to the mattress as he anchored himself over her. "So I must say the only life I'm concerned about right now is yours."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because I'm rather captivated by it, love," he breathed. "By you and by the things you seem to do so….easily."

His body was heavy as he hovered over her, the strong press of his naked weight making her quite anxious to explore his remark. He'd stated time and time again that self control was something he'd never take from her, but she couldn't fight the urge to see what it might be like to take away a little of his.

"What things-" she flirted, rutting her bare hips up against his. "-are you referring to?"

"Well, that is definitely one of them," he answered as he bit his lower lip. "But I think it's pretty obvious how easily you affect me, love. You are quite pertinacious."

"And you have quite the advanced vocabulary," Emma commented, dragging her fingernails gently up and down his back. "I probably shouldn't find that as enthralling as I do."

"Well, Swan, there's nothing wrong with finding intrigue in an educated mouth," he smirked, his legs tangling with hers. "Though you know what they say, love - il vaut mieux faire que dire."

"Hmmm, where exactly do they say that?"

"France, darling," he replied, his fingertips tracing the length of her torso. "Though I hope I did that pronunciation justice - it's been a long time."

"After the war?"

"Aye," he said, distant for a moment before setting his gaze back on her. "Beautiful country and even more beautiful language."

"I can tell," she agreed, snuggling back into the pillows as his hips pinned her down. "What does it mean?"

"Something along the lines of 'it's better doing than saying'," he explained in that roughly accented tone. "A statement I must say I wholeheartedly agree with."

"I must say that I think-" she responded, her words interrupted by a slight moan when his stiff length pressed against her through the satin fabric. "-I do too."

"I'm glad we agree," he breathed as his lips brushed hers. "So we should 'do' and save the 'saying' for a different time."

"Do you always find a way with words like that?"

"Solo con usted, amor," he grinned, his breath warm and ranting as he translated himself. "Only with you, love."

His reply was followed by the drag of his hard length against her thigh. It made Emma tremble slightly and she felt his sly smirk against her neck. God, the subtle curve of his lips as they met her collarbone shouldn't be so damn erotic - but it was.

"Mmm….sempre cosi bello, l'amore…."

God, now what was he saying? Emma's mind barely registered the shifting accent on his seductive voice as she realized he wasn't speaking French anymore. Her brain struggled to grasp the words, but the final one - the one that she was fairly sure meant 'love' - somehow suggested his sentiments were in Italian.

It honestly didn't matter - if he sounded like that, he could say whatever he wanted in any damn language he pleased.

His teeth nipped softly across her skin, the ghostlike press of them driving her mad with need. The weak sound that came from her lips seemed to encourage him instantly and his hands tore mindlessly at the sheet that had woven itself loosely around her waist.

"I want to see you, love," he pleaded, his palms firm on her thighs as he shoved the dark satin they'd spent a lot of time tangled in off to the side. "Let me-"

"I think you….should let me this time…."

He paused for a moment, stilling the flexing of his hips as his length teased her in that slow sliding sensation that still made her shiver. She wasn't sure where this brief flash of boldness was coming from, but the instant she caught sight of the blue temptation in his gaze, she was determined to take advantage of it. Her hand slid down his torso and she took him in her careful grip, stroking firmly several times as his arms kept him anchored above her. God, he looked good like this - naked and wavering on the edge of what they both truly wanted. Driving him to this inevitable point of no return was almost as intense as the pleasure they were quickly approaching. Well, almost.

"Swan, bloody hell….what are you-"

His words halted with a slight oomph as she shoved him by his shoulders, the hard push causing his back to meet the mattress. He watched her intently, his stare riddled with desire and something deviously dark. She straddled him quickly, kissing a long trail down his torso and pressing her thumbs into his hip bones to keep him still. He let out a weak grunt when her hands pushed a little more firmly, her touch warning his anxious hips as he tried for friction.

"Emma….love…."

"Tell me more."

His eyes widened and he propped himself up to observe her. He allowed her demand to sink in, the idea that she seemed to want to hear more of his knowledge in other dialects making him look curious and clever. Truthfully, he was completely wrecked - his dark hair shaggy and aching to be pulled while his focused stare blazed dark blue like the start of an unforgiving storm at sea. The shadows of the room gripped and highlighted the intricate sculpting of his fit body while each little movement she made seemed to make him tense all over.

He needed to unravel - and god, she wanted to watch him.

"Emma, oh…."

"Talk to me, Killian," she pleaded. "Tell me."

Her hands moved deftly, grasping his thighs and adjusting their position just slightly. His length was hard and throbbing attentively as pushed it against his firm abdomen. Emma worked slowly, teasing him at a deliberately casual pace. She absorbed the sight of him watching her, his eyes dancing with that blue temptation as her hand slid up and down rhythmically. It never ceased to amaze her that he was still so very much alive.

"Emma….von have ut….subsisto," he mumbled as he tried to remain still. "You have….to stop."

"Is that what you said?"

"Yes, love," he answered. "Latin…."

"That's pretty impressive," she commented, her hand firmly around him. "And before that?"

"That was-" he groaned, his tongue running across his bottom lip. "-Italian."

"I liked that one," she told him as her fingers slid along his shaft. "It sounds very smooth….and poetic…."

"Please, love," he gasped, his accent ragged and wanting. "I want….you…."

"Like-" she said softly, lowering her head to drag her tongue along the solid length of him. "-this?"

His groan was slightly feral, catching in his throat as his body went rigid. His hands gripped the sheets and he twisted the fabric when her mouth slid over him entirely, her hand still stroking him at the base while his hips rutted lightly. His breathing escalated in that labored manner, the air filled with his gasps and pleas.

God, why hadn't she done this before now? Lord knows she'd spent plenty of time thinking about it.

"Tell me, Killian," she requested softly. "Tell me what you want."

Her mouth had barely left him when Emma found herself sprawled once again on her back. His weight pushed her into the sheets and his hips moved of their own volition, their bare skin equally on fire and simmering as his lips found hers. He settled between her legs and her knees parted to accommodate him, her feet drawn up around his back and locking at his waist. Her hand lifted, reaching up to grip his hair in a familiar act of passion, but he took her wrist firmly in his hold and pressed it back against the pillow by her cheek. He gave her that same predatory, impatiently blue stare he often did in circumstances like this and Emma's intent eyes hinged on the movement of his anxious tongue.

"I want to ravish you, Emma - and I don't care what bloody language I do it in."

His lips slammed into hers, her fingers pulling hard on his hair as he thrust into her. Emma gasped into his mouth and he moaned a needy sound in return. His body aligned with hers perfectly as his speed increased, each jolt forward a little harder than the last. Emma's hands stretched across his back and her fingers climbed toward his shoulder blades. She was gentle at first, allowing her nails to grip him gently as he grunted against her neck.

"Emma…."

"Killian….god, don't stop. That's so….good…."

"Bloody hell, Emma," he breathed, his voice just above a whisper as he bit her ear teasingly. "You are bewitching, love…."

"Oh, Killian….do you….do you need-"

"Not….this time, love," he said, cutting her off with the shake of his head. "Just you, Emma…..oh, I just need you."

His biceps throbbed as he held himself up, pounding into her with strength that wasn't completely human. Her moans were automatic, falling from her lips without control as she held tight to his back. He groaned when her nails pressed harder as she pulled them down his back in a way that probably broke skin. She shoved her hips hard into his, once and then twice before she cried out his name in nothing short of total ecstasy. He followed her, his breath labored and short as he pulsed within her and his forehead dropped to meet hers.

They froze there for an unaccounted amount of time, trying to find stability in the sound of each other's breathing. Eventually, her hands moved back carefully to the scratches she knew she'd left on his back.

"Mmmm - careful, love," he smiled with a slight wince. "I heal quickly but not that quickly."

"I'm sorry," she replied softly, her tone a bit embarrassed. "I didn't mean to make you bleed."

"I'd dare say turnabout is fair play," he offered, a nervous expression on his face. "Since I've….well, you know-"

"Yes, I do know - and stop being so worried about it," she replied in a deliberate tone. "You know I'd stop you if I didn't want you to.

"I know, love," he sighed as his head shifted to the pillow. "I just have….a hard time believing you're real sometimes."

"I am," she reassured him, a soft smile on her lips. "So is this, Killian."

He grinned in return, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as he kissed her gently. Emma dissolved into the moment as his lips caressed hers. She continued to find that she wasn't sure how he was real - especially when he kissed her like that.

"So that last part sounded like….Spanish I think," she smiled, tilting her head in a hopeful manner. "Was it?"

"Aye, it was," he confirmed. "Quite the sharp ear there, Swan."

"Well, you have quite the silver tongue, Dracula," she taunted in return. "Though 'silver' might not be the best adjective….I mean, I know how you feel about it-"

"Ah, there she is," he laughed, kissing her shoulder. "Interrogating me one moment and mocking me the next. I'll never win the battle of wits with you, will I?"

"Likely not," she shrugged with that same smirk. "What others do you speak?"

"Mmmm, a little German and some Russian," he told her. "A little Gaelic, but that comes from my mother's heritage. She taught my brother and he taught me. Why so curious?"

"I don't know," she sighed, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "I just….like to hear you talk I guess. But I suppose when you've been around a million years, you've learned plenty of ways to do that. Well, among other things of course."

"Mmmm, good to know you appreciate my wide array of knowledge," he replied, his eyes swirled with mischief. "I would be happy to explore this 'other things' category with you anytime as well, love. Always willing to share what I know."

"Yeah I bet," she laughed as she cuddled against him. "Maybe after you stock the fireplace, I'll let you."

"As you wish, m'lady," he grinned, peeling himself from her side as she watched him rise from the bed stark naked. "Be right back."

Emma pulled the blankets tight around herself as her eyes lusted after the fit, unreal man wandering to the doorway. It would be a day full of learning for sure - and her head spun as she thought of the many methods they could use to do that.

"Do you remember it?"

The words spilled from her mouth without thought, something she seemed to do a lot of lately. He'd barely joined her again on the patio at the back of the house post breakfast - a meal he seemed to truly enjoy making for her. He'd said as much while flipping several pieces of french toast and giving her a few less than appropriate glances over the kitchen island. Their little brunch session had ended in a rather familiar fashion of playing clean up - and not just from the mess he'd made cooking.

"That's a broad question, love," Killian quipped, handing her a hot coffee mug. "Do I remember what?"

They'd been sitting on the back porch for much of the late morning, watching the clouds dance across the sky as part of the storm promised to move on. Emma found herself quite comfortable in one of his borrowed hooded sweaters as he appeared back at the wicker chair next to hers. He looked so casually handsome in the gray daylight, his hair dark and wildly messy. It was an oddly domestic scene - especially considering the fact that his kind didn't usually tolerate sunshine.

But Killian Jones wasn't a typical man - so of course, he wouldn't be the average vampire.

"Your life during the war-" Emma added, tapping the sides of her cup. "-and when you became….like this."

"You mean when I turned?"

"Yeah," she nodded, blushing at her inarticulate phrasing. "I wasn't sure how….or what…."

"It's okay, Swan," he assured her as he set his coffee down. "I know the whole thing isn't exactly straightforward. I must say that my beginnings stretch way back though, love - you're sure you'd like to hear about them?"

"If you don't mind talking about it."

"With you….no - I suppose I don't," he said, tilting his head from side to side. "But if we're going to do this, I guess there's some things I should show you."

His thumb brushed the metal part of the ring on his hand and he looked at it with some emotion Emma couldn't quite pinpoint. They'd never talked much about it - she knew only that it kept him safe from the daylight that would destroy him otherwise. She had to wonder just how big of a role the piece of jewelry had played in his life. As she watched his expression shift to serious, it was all but certain that it meant more to him than a basic necessity should.

"That sounds-" Emma commented, squinting her eyes and leaning back in the chair. "-ominous?"

"I guess we'll see about that," he sighed with a nervous smirk as thunder rolled distantly. "I'll get an umbrella - and you'll want your boots."

"Going for a walk in the rain?"

"Of sorts," he nodded, smiling briefly. "But let's see if we can beat the rain."

"I don't recall all of it - bits and pieces I guess," he finally told her, their arms looped together as he led her down a cobblestone path in the direction of the surrounding woods. "I remember the sounds of the war from miles away and the impact of being shot - it was just outside of the infirmary as I was assisting a wounded soldier. I remember the pain and the white walls of the hospital, although I know I was in and out of my wits."

"Did you ever find out who saved you?"

"Not at the time," he sighed, navigating their footsteps to avoid puddles. "I can still hear the voice though. She kept telling me I'd be okay - to have hope."

Emma felt her heart quicken a bit, recalling words that her mother had always said. You have to have hope. He noticed the way she tensed and threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing them gently as they continued on.

"When I woke up, I was alone," he told her. "More interesting was the fact that I was healed - not even a scar where I knew I'd taken the bullet. I didn't know what to do, but I knew something was wrong - so I ran."

Emma swallowed hard, quickly connecting the fact that their solutions to uncertainty were all too similar. She knew all about the will to run in order to survive and wise or not, it was her go-to strategy as well. It was a strange walk they were on, but one that Emma couldn't help but absorb. She'd asked for this - she wanted to know more about him. She wanted to soak in the details of his life and who he'd become over his decades of existence.

Truthfully, she wanted him - every last thing about him.

"I traveled the continent while I tried to figure out what had happened and….exactly who or what I was now," he explained. "I battled the sun for years, only coming out at dark and barricading myself inside during the day."

"How did you know about the blood?"

"I learned in Italy - one of the first places I hid away. I was out at a pub one night, not long after I turned when I was approached by a pair of brothers," he narrated, scratching at his jaw with his free hand. "I was pretty out of it by then what with not feeding or even knowing that I needed to do such a thing, but they helped me. They taught me to survive and how to keep control. They were good men - bantered endlessly but never stopped looking out for one another. Reminded me a lot of my own brother."

Emma's heart throbbed at the admission. She didn't know much about Killian's family, but she'd always sensed he had a strong connection with his singular sibling. It was difficult to see that even over his endless years, Killian still held a painful spot for the man who'd all but raised him.

"How did they know where to find you?"

"The woman who turned me knew them," he answered as they walked down a small slope into the trees. "She wrote a letter for me - sent it with them as well as instructions on where I could be located. She made sure they stayed with me for quite some time and I have to say I felt rather fortunate to have a couple of saviors take me in."

The picture came together in her mind of the broken war survivor who just wanted answers and she chanced a sideways glance at him. He caught her, returning her sympathetic stare as he tugged on her hand to draw them to a pause. His touch turned them to face one another as one hand landed on her waist and the other rested on her cheek.

"Emma, I don't know why this woman did what she did - or why she chose to condemn me to this life," he said softly, his thumb stroking her jaw. "But she did provide the path to show me that I could have a future, despite all of this….and I decided long ago that I damn well intend to have one. You make that choice an even better one, love."

Emma's smile was brief and unable to widen as his lips fused to hers, his protective hold pulling her close as her mouth parted. He kissed her hard and in a way she'd never tired of while her hands pressed firmly on his chest. He growled softly, a noise that made her grin as she tilted her head against his cupped hand. The silver ring he'd been toying with was cold against her skin and when he pulled back slightly, she lifted her touch to it.

"Are you going to tell me about this-" she asked, spinning the metal on his finger. "-or where it came from?"

"Ah, the witch," he smiled, pulling his hand into view. "She lived in Storybrooke for a number of years actually. One of the only magical beings with the capability of creating these - it's part of what brought me home….though it did take me a while to talk her into making it."

"Wait, she's from here? Who was it?"

"There are….parts of this town you don't know about, Emma," he replied cautiously, his eyes still playful as he took on a tone of warning. "Perhaps it's better to keep it that way. Besides, she was quite a fickle creature and probably nobody you would have heard of anyway."

"Hmmm," Emma responded, rolling her eyes. "Tease much?"

"Would you expect any less?"

"Fair point," she grinned. "So where are we going?"

"Well, you said you wanted to know about my early years as a vampire," he said, nodding toward a space just beyond the trees where a small stone building stood. "That structure is a good place to begin."

Emma cocked her head sideways, raising an eyebrow at this sudden very enigmatic man. What the hell was he up to?

"A crypt? Really?"

"With all your joking, you didn't believe I actually had one?"

"Well, I-" Emma paused, turning back to look at him. "-guess not."

Standing in shock on the dirt floor of a place she'd once teased him about was not at all what she'd expected when they'd set out on their afternoon jaunt through his past. The room itself wasn't overly large and was partially concealed by heavy wooden doors that had required his utmost strength to slide open. The space was lit only by lantern and several half melted candles, the darkness slightly looming as she tried not to act uneasy. She'd felt that way outside as well when they'd arrived at the iron gated entrance only to see the letters of his last name etched in granite above the doorway. In true Killian fashion, he'd taken her hand tightly in his and pleaded with those two words - the ones that possessed the power to make her do almost anything.

Trust me.

Now, however, it wasn't trust that Emma needed. As she explored the area - the cold dark walls, the barred off and caged corner space, the blue stained glass window, the closed door at the back that probably led to more mystery - all she found herself really desiring was an explanation.

"Before I had the ring," he said softly, moving to her side just in front of the thick metal bars. "I kept myself in here most of the time."

"You mean you-" Emma asked, her plea for clarification evident. "-locked yourself up? But why?"

"Back in Italy, while I was getting used to all of this, I….I hurt someone," he admitted, his expression instantly full of shame. "It was only once, but….she….she died - and it was my fault. I killed her."

His eyes were crystal blue as emotion filled them, his glassy stare lingering on the makeshift prison he'd crafted in the walled off building. Emma had never seen him so overtaken with pain and remorse - not even the night his fangs barely punctured her neck and he vanished into the frigid air. He looked lost in the past and she quickly moved to separate the space between him and the dungeon with her own body.

"Hey," she coaxed gently, reaching to rest her hand on his arm. "It's okay. Tell me."

"I just….well, when I came back here, I knew I had to do something to make sure I never lost control again," he continued. "When I couldn't get the witch to spell the ring, I asked her to imprison me here."

"So she did," Emma resolved, glancing back at the wall behind the bars. "To keep you safe?"

"To keep others safe," he corrected. "My lust for blood was too strong, Emma. It was the only way."

"So you stayed here…."

Her voice trailed off weakly as she rounded the corner into the small cell. Narrowing her eyes at the scuffed wall, she moved closer only to find out that the marks were scratches. Her hand pressed against them as she took in the intricate pattern, one that seem fraught with intense agony. Her fingers traced the flat abrasions with concern as she finally realized what they were.

"You did this," she almost whispered. "Were you truly in that much pain, Killian?"

She tore her eyes from the marred wall, turning back to where he stood with slumped shoulders. He pressed his lips together as he seemed to wage a mental war with his memory. He didn't have to answer her - she could see it in his haunted stare as he looked back at her through the metal barrier.

He hadn't been in pain the last time he'd willingly stood in this crypt - he still was.

Emma examined him as she walked slowly back to the place she'd interfered before, the stretch of floor between the bars and his defeated frame. He didn't move - he didn't seem to possess a will to. She noticed then just how difficult it was for him to be standing in the place he'd once allowed to be his prison.

"So you stayed here-" she started, reaching for his hands. "-and you starved because you were afraid?"

"I was terrified, Emma," he replied quietly. "I knew I'd rather be deprived and suffering here than out in the world on a murderous rampage."

"Killian, you aren't like that-"

"I could have been," he interrupted, his hands weak in hers. "There are plenty of my kind who take that route - some of them unwillingly."

"You didn't," she reminded him. "You chose differently - you chose control. You always do."

"That's an awful lot of faith you seem to put in me, Swan."

"I know," she smiled, squeezing his hand. "There's a reason for it though."

"Oh?"

Emma hesitated a moment, biting her lip as she pondered the truth. She'd never seen that dangerous, bloodthirsty, completely off the rails side of him. Did it truly exist? Did she dare try to find out?

"Come here," she almost demanded, pulling him toward her. "I want you to do something."

"Anything, love," he agreed as her back hit the bars. "What do you need?"

"Bite me."

His eyes filled with confusion, quickly toppled by disbelief in that dark sapphire hue she'd seen once or twice before. He tried to back up, but she gripped his arms and zeroed her glare on him.

"Killian," she repeated. "I want you to bite me."

"Emma-"

"No, don't 'Emma' me," she said firmly. "The last time you were here, you were punishing yourself for what you thought you were capable of - and for a mistake you didn't consciously make. You aren't that man."

"You don't know that," he replied, an edge of defiance in his words. "I might be. I could be."

"You aren't-" she responded, her hands sliding down his arms. "-and you won't be."

He took a steadying breath as her fingers fell to his waist and she tugged him closer by the hem of his jeans. His lips were drawn to hers when she yanked on his belt, unclasping the buckle and tossing it to the ground with a thud before she gripped the belt loops to coax him closer. Her touch remained there, tracing the edge of the denim until she reached the button. Working quickly, she flipped it open and his kiss grew hurried. Their tongues tangled helplessly as he unzipped her sweater to expose her pale neckline. His breath was hot and uneven as he pulled back, sliding the fabric from her shoulders and gasping softly at the sight of a lacy red strap. His thumb swiped it out of the way and he caught her stare, his intent focused and wavering all at once.

"Emma," he said, his tone unstable and thick. "You're sure that's what you want?"

"Yes, Killian," she exhaled as her fingers twisted in his dark hair. "Do it."

His fangs formed quickly, that tell-tale click giving her chills as she pushed his jeans to the dirt floor. He groaned softly as he did the same to hers, quickly leaving her in nothing but the sweater falling off her shoulder and lacy straps that were following the same path. He looked ravenous, his teeth exposed in full sharp force as she pulled on his trademark flannel shirt hard enough to send buttons flying in opposite directions. Letting the fabric hang open, she slid her hands up his chest and around to the nape of his neck while he braced his hands on the back of her thighs. He lifted her fast, thrusting in while balancing her between the bars and his muscular body at the same time. Emma couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her as he moved, his hips going back and forth as she reached to curl one hand around the bars.

"Killian," she pleaded, the metal cold in her grip. "Do it…."

Her voice lost momentum as the piercing pain of his fangs struck the vein along the side of her neck. Emma's left hand anchored itself on his shoulder while she attempted to hold herself up against the bars with the other. He sucked hard, her head going hazy as his hips surged forward again and again. It didn't take long for her body to weaken as her pulse pounded in her ears, the thumping only slightly faster than his movement.

"More," she said softly, her eyes falling closed as he continued to drink. "Faster…."

He growled softly, the bars shaking with a vicious rattle as he heeded her request. His thumb pressed hard on her hip as he supported her weight and he moved tirelessly, her body tightening in preparation of the pleasure she knew was just out of reach. His thumb moved quickly to her core as he rutted into her, circling firmly until she cried out and he fell over the edge they'd pushed each other to. He took a final swallow as Emma's world went as gray and cloudy as the sky outside had been. Her body collapsed into him and she felt his hand supporting her head as they slumped to the dirt floor below.

"Emma, here," his voice beckoned, the cool feel of something wet on her lips. "Drink, darling. Hurry."

She summoned what was left of her strength and attempted a weak sip, almost instantly processing what he was doing. He was giving her his blood.

"Good, love - keep going," he encouraged, holding her steady in his lap as she opened her eyes again. "As much as you need."

She blinked clarity back into her eyes, eventually realizing that her sustenance was coming from his wrist. She swallowed once more before pulling back rapidly. He searched her confused stare for whatever she was willing to give, taking his pierced artery and pressing it onto the bite marks he'd left on her skin.

"What….what happened?"

"I think I took too much, love," he answered, his hand holding her chin as he watched her. "Are you okay? Emma, I'm sor-"

"No," she breathed, her head dropping to his shoulder as she exhaled. "Don't be sorry. I'm okay."

"Love, are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she nodded as she nuzzled his neck. "Just hold me for a minute."

"That I can do, darling," he said soothingly, his hand stroking her hair. "For as long as you'd like."

She relaxed against his chest, thankful that he'd turned them so his back was supported by the iron bars and his bent knees were angled to keep her in place. His fingertips traced nonsense on her bare skin as she regained some sense of reality and he placed a soft kiss against her temple more than once. His words played several times in her mind as she rested there - his commitment to hold her until she no longer wanted him to.

She knew it was wrong or perhaps unfair to think along such lines. She knew it wasn't possible for that stretch of time to be uncontained. She knew all of that, but as his warm embrace wrapped around her and the concept of endless days entered her mind, she allowed herself a moment to think of forever in terms of Killian Jones - and the idea was anything but supernatural.