Author's note: Part 3 of the priest AU. Enjoy!

Uniformity

Killian adjusted his robes and stepped into the confessional. He'd noticed a few parishioners lurking in the back; he was certain that at least two of them would change their mind before even thinking about entering the little wooden room.

He couldn't force people into confession, especially as he was a sinner himself. Repeatedly. And in that very four foot by four foot space.

He still couldn't walk into the confessional without thinking of her. Emma Swan. Their affair was still going on, even as spring approached. Occasionally, he wondered why, why someone like Emma kept coming back. When he first met her, she was all sarcasm and no nonsense; she'd been on a case, suspected her quarry was hiding in the church. He'd been thoroughly beguiled by her within minutes and not simply because she was beautiful. Emma was a force to be reckoned with, yet he found her oddly vulnerable.

Whatever her allure, she'd stayed with him. He was quite surprised when she kept popping up, often when he least expected her. But they didn't seem to have much in common, constantly arguing whenever they did see each other. Still her attitude hadn't stopped him from fantasizing about her. He prayed and struggled and read his Bible until the words swam but nothing helped.

And now that they had begun, it seemed neither knew how to stop.

He was ripped from his thoughts by his first confession of the afternoon; he cleared his throat, waiting to listen. This was the part of being a priest he liked the least; all too often confessions felt perfunctory, rote. Something the confessor did because it was expected of them, not because they actually repented. But only God could truly judge what was in someone's heart, so he tried to keep an open mind, grant absolution and penance where he could.

As he waited between confessions, he thought about his next sermon, two Sundays from now. Father Cartwright was going to be visiting Rome on official business, and Killian was being left in charge. He was aware of the enormous responsibility, the added scrutiny.

He would need to tell Emma. If he had to go three weeks without seeing her, he might go mad.

The door next to him opened and closed. A familiar scent wafted through the grate and Killian froze. Oh, she was a wicked, wicked girl, his Swan.

Killian swallowed. "Greetings, my child. How long as it been since your last confession?"

Emma leaned in close to the grate. "Three days and five hours, Father."

Killian shivered; of course she would know precisely how long it had been since he made her scream his name. He'd gotten a new bed for his little cottage, bigger, and Emma had helped him break it in. "That's not very long, lass. Sinning again so quickly?"

"No," she replied. "But I want to. Isn't the temptation to sin enough?"

Killian let out a relieved breath. They'd never discussed it, but he liked knowing that she was only sleeping with him. Terribly selfish, given the nature of their liaison, but he wanted it all the same. He liked thinking of her as his.

"It can be," he said reasonably. "What is your temptation?"

"I have...needs, Father Jones," she replied.

"Temptation of the flesh," he said knowledgeably. He knew her body well, knew every way she liked to be touched. His fingers flexed, needing to feel her smooth pale skin. "Anything specific?"

Emma looked down at herself, the outfit she'd worn for him. They'd talked about her little fantasy once; she hoped he would indulge her. If he was half as horny as she was, then this would be fun. "I touch myself," she said clearly, hands smoothing down her tight button down shirt. "It feels good."

Killian inhaled sharply, his cock hardening in a blink. He'd watched Emma touch herself before, her nimble fingers bringing herself to orgasm for him. "Do...what do you think about when you...sin?"

"A man's head between my legs. Dark hair, blue eyes. I pull on his hair as he licks me."

Killian popped open his pants, sighing in relief. "Then what?"

"Do you need to hear it, Father? It gets...graphic."

"Bloody hell, Swan," he snapped. "Tell me." Then after this, he could smuggle her out of this place and have his wicked way with her.

"Oh fuck," Emma mumbled, hand sliding under her skirt. "God, I'm so wet."

Killian tried to look through the grate, but it was too shadowed to make anything out. "Tell me," he pleaded softly. "Then I'll have you. Anyway you wish."

"Anything?"

"Yes," he hissed, fisting his cock. He shoved the robes aside hastily; he didn't need them getting stained. His clothes were bad enough.

"Well, Father...I feel his tongue slide inside me. So warm, plunging as deep as he can. His fingers tease my clit, but it's not enough. He just keeps me hovering on the edge until I'm begging." Emma rubbed her slick flesh, two fingers teasing the rim of her entrance. "But then we move and I'm straddling his face, his mouth teasing me. So I bend down to lick his cock. It's so long...and thick. Feels so good when he fucks me with it."

Killian groaned, pumping his hand, thumb teasing the sensitive head of his cock. Listening to her was intoxicating, all the filthy things she wanted him to do to her. "Does...does he fuck you?"

Emma sank her fingers into her heat, hips bucking in the tiny seat. "Oh yes," she breathed. "He makes me watch, watch his cock fill me up as I get wetter and wetter. In and out, over and over..." Her head fell back with a soft thump. "Please. I need to come. Please."

"Let go," he mumbled. His own hips were rutting into his hand, hanging on her every word. "Come for me, love."

Emma bit her lip to keep from crying out as she fell, inner muscles squeezing her fingers. She wished it was his cock instead, but they had time. She heard his muffled cry a moment later, followed by a heavy exhale. "Bloody hell."

She smiled toward the grate. "Feel better?"

"I'll feel better once I am buried inside you," he corrected. "But aye." He frowned at his hand, then wiped it on his black shirt. If he played his cards right, no one would see. He tucked himself away and zipped up. "That was very naughty, lass."

"It's not like I climbed in there with you," she replied, still smiling. "Oh wait, I did that."

He sighed. "You did. And I loved every sodding second."

"We are terrible."

"I wish I gave a damn."

"You should. You're a priest."

"And that gets you off, doesn't it?" When she didn't reply he silently cursed himself. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." He reached over and lowered the top half of the partition. Finally he could see her, at least partly. She looked a bit frightened and he tentatively reached out. "Swan?"

She leaned into his hand as it curled around her cheek tenderly. There it was again in her eyes, that emotion he couldn't define. "I...I don't just like you because you're a priest," she admitted.

"That's good to hear." He smiled at her. "May I kiss you?"

"Please." They met in the middle, a slow slightly wet kiss. He wanted to pull her into his arms and make love to her, but this was definitely not the place. And his time for confession was probably up.

"Can you sneak into my place?"

"Yeah. You have the rest of your present to unwrap."

"Present?"

She shrugged. "It's been five months since we...started?"

"How could I forget? You on your knees, sucking me off. You were stunning."

Emma wet her lips. "Hmm, I had to get that smug look off your face somehow."

"It worked." He leaned in to kiss her again. "I'll be there very soon. Just let me close things up here."

"I'll be waiting."

Killian didn't leave the confessional until two full minutes after Emma. He had to shrug into his robes and make himself look somewhat presentable. He saw no one on his way to his office, thankfully. He ducked inside, shucked off his robes and moved to grab a clean shirt. He yanked off his collar, contemplating leaving it behind. But he secretly loved the look in her eyes, the way she fingered the collar right before she tore it away. So he buttoned up his clean black shirt and slipped the collar into place.

He shrugged into his jacket and grabbed his keys. After locking his office, he said good evening to the church secretary as he passed. The air was warming up; spring was around the corner. He kept his head down as he walked through the church yard, passing through the gate and onto the street. He finally allowed himself to smile as he got closer to his place.

He glanced around curiously before entering the cottage. There was no one around but he liked to be careful. Coat hung up, he frowned, wondering where Emma was. Her jacket hung next to his, so he knew she was there. He moved through the tiny living room and back toward his bedroom.

And came up short in the doorway.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," he whispered. Emma was indeed in his bedroom, bent over in his closet. The pleated skirt she was wearing rode up her thighs; he could see her blood red panties peeking out from the edge. She wore stockings up to her knees and sinfully high heels. Slowly, she stood, stepping back from the closet. Killian swallowed heavily, and his heart began to race when he saw the rest of her outfit. A crisp white shirt and suspenders, a matching bra clear through the fabric.

"Hello, Father Jones."

It took Killian several moments for his brain to re-engage. Her fantasy. The Catholic schoolgirl. Who wanted to be punished. A shocking wave of lust rolled through him. Emma was a gorgeous woman; she was sensual and sexy, often without even trying. But this appealed to him in a way he'd never experienced.

"Do you know why you're here, Miss Swan?"

She smiled brilliantly, so pleased he wanted to give her what she wanted. What she needed. She wanted to do all sorts of things with this man, to him. She missed him during the last few days, something she didn't want to admit out loud. "No, Father Jones."

He stepped deeper into the room, looking her up and down. "Not even a clue? You're a smart lass."

Emma looked herself over. "Is it this? I thought it was okay."

"Oh, this? This is perfect. But you've been naughty, Miss Swan."

She boldly laid a hand on his chest. "Naughty? Do tell, Father."

"Very naughty. Talking back...breaking the rules..." He leaned in next to her ear. "Seducing a priest."

Emma shivered. God, she loved that voice. He could do the best things to her with it. "Sounds bad," she purred. "What are you going to do about it?"

His lips ghosted over the curve of her neck. "Bend over the foot of the bed," he ordered. "Panties off." He suspected she came prepared; sure enough, he found a switch lying innocuously on the nightstand. He picked it up, turning it over in his fingers. He'd gone to Catholic school as a child, had taken his fair share of switchings. Never had he envisioned a scenario such as this.

He had half hard just thinking about it.

Emma clutched the edge of the footboard, anticipation making her quiver. She'd dreamed of this for so long, almost from the first time they'd had sex. She almost convinced herself it would never happen, that Killian was too good. But after some of the things they'd done together...she watched him like a hawk, hoping he'd get to her soon.

Killian laid the switch on the bed and made a show of rolling up his sleeves. Once he was finished, he smiled grimly. "I do this because I must," he intoned seriously. "To instruct."

"Yes, Father."

He wet his lips, then picked up the switch. He moved behind her, slowly; her panties lay in a pile on the floor. He wondered if she was already wet. He suppressed a groan, then carefully lifted her pleated skirt. He had to resist the urge to trace the curve of her pert arse; he was supposed to be punishing her. Instead, he stroked the tip of the switch over her skin; he could see her trembling. It made him hesitate...did she really want this?

Emma whimpered quietly; yearning like she'd never experienced gripped her. "Please."

Her voice was so soft, he almost missed it. But he made up his mind, her desire calling out to something primal within him. He tightened his grip on the switch and brought it down across her pale skin. Emma sucked in a harsh breath, the pain sharp and precise. By the time she exhaled, the pain had blossomed into pleasure. "Oh God."

"It's Father Jones, Miss Swan. I think you need another five, to teach you some respect."

"H-h-how many am I getting?"

"Ten, I think, for your initial infraction. Then another five. Do you understand, Miss Swan?"

"Yes, Father Jones."

"There's a good girl." He swatted her again. "Count them." He moved the switch down and struck again, relishing her quiet moan of "one." She breathed through it, pleasure coursing through her. Two, three, four, five. She squeezed the footboard, whimpers and moans falling from her lips between counts. He never hit the same place twice, but he left thin pink lines across her lovely ass. He would soothe her as soon he was finished. Emma could feel her slick arousal sliding down her thighs; she was so turned on. She needed him to fuck her until she couldn't walk.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Killian dropped the switch instantly and dropped to his knees. Emma's knees shook as Killian placed reverent kisses to the marks on her body. "Emma, Emma, Emma," he murmured. "What have you done to me?"

Emma moaned, his lips and tongue warm on her overheated skin. "Killian...please. Touch me. Need you so much."

Killian nodded, tenderly parting her swollen flesh with his fingers. "You are dripping, love." He licked her from front to back, teasing her entrance. Emma keened, just thankful he was touching her. He ate her greedily; he loved her sweetness. He moved back to front, over and over, holding her hips to make sure she didn't fall. Emma shuddered, the pleasure almost too intense. "Come for me." He sucked on her clit and she exploded, crying out incoherently.

Her body gave out and Killian caught her, then carried her to his bed. He laid her out, but she didn't let him get far. Weakly, she grabbed his shirt and fused his lips to hers. She could taste herself on his lips; it made her burn for him again. He tumbled into the bed, hand weaving through her golden tresses. "Killian, thank you." Kiss, tongue sliding past his lips. "So fucking hot." Nibble of his neck, his scruff scratching her delicate skin. "Do you want me, Father Jones?"

"God yes," He muttered, fingers sliding under the suspenders. He eased them off and started on her blouse. "All kinds of ways."

"You've got me," she assured him. "All night long."

"Bloody hell." She started on his shirt, while he worked on hers. Their arms got tangled together as they fumbled with their clothes. Her shirt fell to the floor, then his. She pulled his collar out with her fucking teeth which made his cock twitch. Once he was nude from the waist up, Emma pressed him onto his back, mouthing her way down his chest. She teased his nipples with her teeth, leaving them red and swollen. She kissed along the trail that led to his pants; she blatantly nuzzled his clothed cock and he shook under her.

"I need this cock inside me," she said, tracing the ridge with her finger. "Thought about it all day."

"Swan," he bit out. "Fuck."

Deftly, she opened his fly, reaching inside and stroking him. He bucked up into her hand, hands fisted in the sheets. She licked the belled head, swirling her tongue. Killian whimpered, and she released him. He jerked his head, irked, but then she saw her pulling his pants down his legs. Together, they shucked them to the floor. Emma moved back between his legs, grinning mischievously. She licked the length of him, played with his balls. She needed him in her—badly—but she couldn't resist the wrecked look on his face. She used her mouth on him, licking, sucking, teasing him.

"Swan," he gasped, quivering with need. "Love, please. Need to fuck you."

"God, I love when you talk dirty, Father Jones."

Killian growled, moving in a blink. He tackled Emma to the bed, sliding easily into the cradle of her thighs. He ground his cock into her soaked flesh. "This is just round one, lass." He kissed her hard, forcing her hands above her head. "You want the priest to tell you how badly he needs to fuck this tight slick cunt?"

She bit her lip, whimpering. "Yes, so hot."

"You've bewitched me," he murmured, sliding home at last. He thrust deep, sighing at how hot and wet she was around him. They fit together so well, bodies moving sync. He took her with long slow thrusts; they had all night, she'd promised, but he wanted this to last. "Siren."

Emma wrenched her hands free, running her fingers through his thick dark locks. She kissed him, leg hooked over his hip, digging into his lower back, forcing him deeper. "How," she gasped, back arching. "How do you feel so good?" Part of her knew this was wrong, that they should stop. He was a fucking priest. Emma had broken a lot of rules in her life, but she was fucking a priest. Over and over again. She couldn't stop.

She didn't want to. This was hers. Just this once, she wanted to be selfish.

"Emma...oh god, just like that." He thrust hard, grinding his public bone against her clit. "Hot, wet, so bloody tight."

Emma rolled them over; he slipped from her briefly, making them both whimper at the loss. She gripped him and eased back onto him, rolling her hips languidly. Killian watched her, face awash in pleasure, breasts bouncing. He reached up and fondled them; they were perfect, full and round. Emma arched into his touch, her own fingers slipping down to her clit. She rubbed it in slow circles, not ready to come, just loving the feel of him within her.

"So fucking beautiful," he growled. "Mine."

Emma's eyes opened abruptly, finding his. Anxiety slammed into him, suddenly afraid he'd pushed her too far. She picked up his hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed each of his fingers, trying and failing to ignore the emotions rolling through her. She didn't know what it was about this man, but she was so fucking tired of running. "Yours."

Killian pushed himself up, fusing his mouth to hers. Emma kissed him back, legs winding around his hips. They rocked together, pleasure burning through them, seeming to wash away all the guilt and caution that had been holding them back. This, whatever it was, felt right.

"Close," Emma bit out, breaking their kiss, riding him hard. "So fucking close."

Killian flicked her clit, grunting as she shattered in his arms. He helped her ride it out, gritting his teeth. He wasn't ready to come yet. He lifted her off him and laid her diagonally on his bed, her damp hair fanned out on the rumple sheets. She nodded weakly as he shoved a pillow under her ass and slid back inside. He fucked her rhythmically, their hands linked together.

"Can you give me one more, lass? Just one more." He brought their linked hands to her clit; Emma let go to touch herself, expertly guiding him to her g spot as she did. She cried out when he found it, her thighs trembling with impending orgasm.

"Hurry," she pleaded. "Want to feel it inside me."

Killian groaned, bending over her, fucking her harder, less controlled. They came together, the thick drag of him heaven inside her. Her walls rippled along his length and he moaned her name, emptying himself deep inside her body. He rutted until they were spent, collapsing on top of her. Emma tried to catch her breath, even though he was heavy. They were sweaty and sated; she didn't want to move. Her fingers trailed down his back, lips brushing his scruffy cheek. At length, Killian did roll off, leaving her in the cool air of the room. He leaned up to kiss her brow, then let her know he was going to clean them both up.

Emma let him, not wanting to talk. Now that they weren't as intimately connected, she didn't want to examine the things that they'd said. It was cowardly and she hated herself for it. But she wasn't ready. And he was still a priest. Where did that leave them?

Killian came back and gently cleaned her up, helping her under the comforter. He could sense her curling in on herself, withdrawing from him, just a little. He tried not to let it bother him; whatever had made her this way, he could be patient. He was a priest, after all.

He joined her in the bed, cautiously stretching out beside her. "Will you stay?"

She thought about leaving, but she'd promised. And in her heart of hearts, she didn't want to go. "Is that okay?"

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "If you want."

"Good. Your bed is comfier than mine."

He knew it wasn't exactly the truth, but he didn't call her on it. One step at a time, he reminded himself. She snuggled up to him, and he sighed, kissing her hair. This affair of theirs was dangerous, especially for him.

She held his heart in her hands and didn't even know it. And that terrified him more than anything else.