A/N: It's finally performance time! I can't believe it's finally here! Hooray! And directly after that, is something I hope you'll all enjoy! This is an M rated chapter for sexual situations! Racing towards the finish line of this fic. I can't believe how it's flown by. Thanks all for the support and love!

The rest of Killian's day is spent in nerves, and he finds himself pacing and checking the time more than he has in perhaps his whole life. He showers way too early, spending every minute afterwards checking his appearance. He almost wishes for a pair of tweezers to get every last hair out of place on his beard, but sticks to making sure it's well-conditioned. There's one look devoted to his chest, sighing at the barrenness; he's acutely aware of his luck that there's been no cosmetic disaster, as Goldie had prattled on about as she worked on trimming his other requests.

Liam still hasn't come around by the time he leaves the cabin, so he ambles across the camp grounds to meet Emma at the base of the stairs to the staff parking lot, and hopes his brother doesn't notice his absence. He hasn't for all the rest of the summer; now is not exactly the best time for Liam to start caring again.

Their drive to Portland is mostly spent in silence, broken only when Emma starts rambling last minute pointers as they approach their destination. She reminds him to keep his frame toned, not to dance on the one, and to keep smiling even if he messes up.

"Remember, the only ones that will know if we mess up are us unless we let it show, okay?"

It's roughly the fourth time she mentions his facial expressions that Killian reaches over and places his prosthetic on her wrist over the gearshift.

"Swan, we've got this. You've trained me so well at this point that even I believe I'm a dancer. And so will that audience and your potential new boss." He pauses, shifting and switching so he can rest his hand gently on hers before he continues. "Emma, I don't know if you remember how much of a broken man I was when you met me. And maybe you don't realize just how bad it was, but I can promise you this, you didn't just teach me how to dance – and who knew that was even possible – but you damn near brought me back to life."

He watches her face closely as it goes from nervous to soft, and from soft to something bashful yet happy. As they're clipping along at a steady pace, she doesn't need to shift at the moment, which allows her to twist her hand momentarily to squeeze his hand. "You got all that from a dance? It's just a dance. How could that have saved you?"

"It's much more than just a dance, and you know it. But it's what the lessons exposed. I never thought I would be capable of letting go of my past. Losing Milah, my hand, my former life, any of it, to believe I could be the man I once was. That is, until I met you."

She chances a look over at him, her eyes saying more than she's willing to speak out loud if her expression is anything to go by, but that's enough for him. "Next exit is ours," she says, instead. "We'll be there in just a couple minutes."

With a nod and a smile, Killian releases her hand, returning to looking out the windshield to give her the space she needs.

Emma maneuvers her way easily around the outskirts of the city, pulling up to a port cochere like she's been there a thousand times already. A valet runs around the side of the car to open the door and assist her out of the vehicle while Killian steps out of the passenger seat, listening intently as she explains that they're here to perform and that Regina is taking care of the parking before she hands over her keys.

Killian is too busy staring up at the towering hotel to pay much attention to what she's actually saying to the valet. This isn't big by New York City or Boston standards, but there's something intimidating about the sheer size of the building, and it's clear just from the outside that "opulence" is an understatement. He hears the door shut, and the car drive away, and then Emma is at his side with their garment bags thrown over her shoulder.

"Come on, I'll show you where you can get ready. Once I have my hair and makeup done, I'll come help you with yours."

He opens his mouth to ask if she means his hair or his makeup, as a joke, but she's ushering him inside and down a pristine hallway to a conference room that she explains is being reserved for them as performers. When she leaves, he diligently changes into the leotard and trousers, stretching to make sure everything is lining up where it's supposed to be. He's only thankful the fabric covers his rear end and isn't a thong, like Emma told him some of them are. He combs back his hair and sits in one of the leather chairs that crowd the table, waiting for the woman in question while trying to keep his nerves steady.

"Would a shot from your flask help wipe that expression off your face?" she asks as she enters the room a while later.

Killian opens his mouth to respond, but his jaw goes slack as he takes in the sight of her. The pale pink dress hugs her torso tightly, but the skirts flow around her legs, ending just below her knees. He watches the gentle sway of the fabric, suddenly longing to feel the texture between his fingers. Her hair is all up, expertly styled so not a single hair is out of place, and her makeup accentuates everything on her face. Whereas the first time he saw her dance she was all smoke and mystery, this time she is soft and bright. He's stunned to silence, even as she keeps talking and grabs a jar of hair gel from her bag and approaches him.

"You okay?"

"Didn't bring my flask," he says, finally able to form a response but it comes out barely above a whisper.

"Well, that's fine. You'll be great. You have been an excellent student," she tells him, a playful smile on her lips as she uncaps the jar and starts running her fingers through his hair. And that's what finally pulls him back to the present is Emma's fingers gently tugging at the strands as she applies the gel. His eyes flutter shut, his body relaxing into the plush of the leather chair, and he forgets all about his nerves and the stress of performing. He barely manages to peel open his eyes as she grabs a comb and makes final adjustments before making a noise that he assumes is her triumph over his unruly hair.

"There. All set with the hair. You're missing… something. Hang on," she tells him, moving away to wipe her hands on a napkin from the water stand in the center of the table. She reaches for her bag and when she returns, she holds up a small pencil-looking item in glee.

"Really?"

"Really," she responds, uncapping the pencil and leaning in close. Her left hand goes behind his neck to hold him steady while she applies the eyeliner with sure strokes. "Look up," she murmurs, her face so damn close to his and her lips so tempting with their pink shimmer. "A little eyeliner goes a long way," she comments, switching between his eyes to apply the makeup. He sucks in a deep breath, fixating his gaze over her shoulder so as not to cause himself any embarrassment.

A couple times, however, he can't help but look at her, to watch her face as she diligently works. Up close, he can see every facet of color in her eyes. He can see her own eyeliner, the fact that she's wearing fake lashes, and he can smell the sweet mint on her breath from the candy he can just discern as she rolls it back and forth in her mouth. She leans back suddenly, staring at her handiwork, entirely oblivious to the war raging inside him. Emma Swan is supposed to be off limits.

But then again, he knows how she kisses. He knows her hopes and fears. He knows her past and her dreams for the future. He knows that right now she's smiling and making a joke but on the inside she is turmoil and nerves, just as he is. He was supposed to help the lass with a dance, not bloody fall in love with her.

"Okay, let me wash my hands real quick and then we're gonna go wait in the wings until it's our turn. You can leave everything here while we're performing. The sound guys have our music already and now all we have to do is wait!"

She swishes from the room in nervous excitement while Killian remains glued to his chair. It's partly because he's a bit terrified to go out there, but also because yes, he did just admit his true feelings for his lovely companion to himself. He finally manages to extract himself from the chair and closes the door as he goes. Emma rejoins him a moment later, linking her arm through his and leading him towards the ballroom.

Everything blurs together as they count down the dances before theirs, especially when Emma grabs his hand the number before theirs and doesn't let go. Then she pulls him out to the darkened stage. There's a single dim spotlight shining on where they pose to start, and Killian quickly sends up a brief prayer to whatever deity is listening that he remembers all his steps, that his prosthetic doesn't fly off during the routine somehow, that he doesn't slip and fall on his face or – worse – drop Emma on hers.

The music starts, and when Emma's eyes meet his, it's as if everything else around them softens down to nothing. There is no audience. There is no spotlight. It's just the two of them moving together. He remembers to look out and keep the smile and expressions going, but he doesn't see what's beyond them. He reacts to every move and under-her-breath directive, and he moves better than he ever did in practice. That he can feel in his heart.

The dance itself simultaneously lasts forever and flies by. He ticks off each set of moves in his head as they go through: basic steps, the series of under arm turns where Emma arcs around him, the swivels that cause her hips to twist in rapid succession which have always mesmerized him. Unlike in practice, however, he manages to keep his eyes on her face, and thus gets to see the bright smile she bestows upon him for not looking down.

Between her subtle cues and words of encouragement, he can't believe they're on the last set of moves until they're there. It's just a matter of making it through the spin lift, the only one she felt confident he could handle with the amount of time she had to teach him, and while he has to do nothing more than support her and turn at the same time, he still almost holds his breath as it begins. Right as he lifts her, however, she turns into him a little more, her hand coming to rest on his cheek as his arm wraps around her waist and holds tight.

His heart beats faster, not because of the exertion, but because the same look he feels is in his eyes is reflected in her own. The moment lasts forever in his mind, but he can still feel himself pivoting, can feel the shift they start to make together for him to gently ease her back to the ground so her feet land as if on a cloud. And then it's over; they move through the ending together, until he spins her back into his arms and their foreheads touch.

The music ends and the audience starts clapping, and that's when he finally remembers to actually look out and see them. There are a couple whistles among the applause, which causes them both to smile widely as they bow before heading off the opposite way they entered.

Once they reach the wings of the stage again, Emma launches herself into his arms, hugging him tight and shaking with laughter. "You did so great! Holy shit, I could've sworn you were a pro for that! Killian," she says quietly, pulling away and framing his face with her hands. "I am so proud of you. That was amazing."

She hugs him again, tight, whispering another thanks into his shoulder as he hugs her back just as tightly. He fights back sudden tears because he honestly can't remember the last time someone told him they were proud of him.

He's still in a bit of a daze as they gather their street clothes and head out, deciding that they've been away from camp long enough and can't delay the trip back any longer. The only thing they change is their shoes, at Emma's insistence, so nothing gets damaged when they walk outside. "Huh, I have a missed call from Ruby," Emma mentions as they climb back into the car. "I'll call her when we get back. She must be dying to know how it went."

The drive back to camp is spent by rehashing every single move of the dance. Killian excitedly points out all the places he normally messed up but didn't this time around while Emma proudly smiles at him, throwing her own commentary into the mix as they go through.

"And the spin lift… Let's go back and do it again," Killian exclaims just as they're pulling into the staff parking lot, and Emma throws back her head and laughs.

She parks in her usual spot, pulling the e-brake into place, and turning off the car. She grabs the collar of the costume shirt before Killian can exit the vehicle, moving so fast that he's still chuckling, as well, and at first she can only press her smile to his.

And then she kisses him proper. His breath backs up into his lungs, the adrenaline surging through him once more at the successful way they snuck away from camp, and the performance, and the way she shifts to get closer to him as her tongue maps out his mouth and tangles with his own. He hums into it, a contented sound that she echoes just a second later.

"Consider us even," she says when she pulls away, a sultry smile on her lips as she unhooks her seatbelt and shoves open her door. Killian bites his lip, following suit and taking the bags from her once he's locked and shut the passenger door. There's heat simmering between them, and Killian wants nothing more than to throw the garment bags to the ground and find out what it would feel like to kiss her here in the open, with the stars just beginning to appear overhead.

He's patient; he'll wait if that's what she wishes, but he's at least going to be a gentleman and walk her back to her cabin. If he's hoping for one more peck of a kiss when he gets there, then that's all his business. That can be it, then, right? Then maybe, after camp is over, they can explore all the rest.

Waiting that long might be difficult, but he's waited all this time for someone like Emma to walk into his life. No matter what, he'll take it at her pace, leave their fate in her hands.

The fates have different plans in store though, as Liam and the camp owners are waiting almost at the bottom of the stairs that lead into camp. Liam looks angry, but also relieved when he sees Killian, even if his eyebrow pops up in question when he looks closer. The expression on the Nolans' faces is something like parental disappointment, and Killian wonders just how much trouble Emma will be in because of all of this.

Before they can open their mouths to provide an explanation, the three respective family members are all lecturing at once. Killian catches an "I thought you were dead in a ditch," from Liam, and something along the lines of "rules about guests," directed at Emma from her brother.

"Stop!" Emma says firmly when the three voices start reaching high pitches of concern. "None of this is Killian's fault, just to be clear," she says, mostly to Liam. "I asked him to help me with a performance at a hotel in Portland and he agreed. We were hoping we'd be back before anyone noticed us missing, but clearly we didn't."

"You left your mobile on the bathroom counter," Liam informs him. "I was worried you drank yourself into an early grave when I couldn't get ahold of you."

"I'm quite alive and well, thank you. Why don't we continue this in private?" With his lips pressed together, he turns to Emma. She grabs the bags and feels the tops of both before handing his back to him. "Sorry, love," he whispers, trying to give her a smile and failing in the face of the other adults staring them down. "I'll return the costume tomorrow afternoon."

She just nods, her eyebrows lifting almost imperceptibly before she raises her hand in farewell. There's another nod, so small, that he almost cocks his head in question, but she turns away as Liam starts to head toward their cabin and he's expected to follow.

"I know what you guys are gonna say, but it's really not what you think it is," he hears her say before they're out of earshot. He only hopes that the owners will take some kind of mercy and that the performance didn't cost her this job, or her family.

"You like her," Liam says when they're a bit down the path. "I recognize that look on your face. You like the lass, don't you?"

"Sod off." He refuses to give any other answer than that regarding his feelings for Emma, because he knows how utterly transparent his heart is right now.

"Fine, fine." Liam's silent for a moment until they're entering the cabin. "It's time to be honest, you're not the only one with a crush at this camp," he admits when the screen door is closed behind them.

"Oh?"

"I've taken quite the interest in the yoga instructor, as you guessed. No need to say 'I told you so' about it, however." His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, adding on, "and she to me. But we've decided to wait until camp has ended to do anything about that. So tell me about Emma, and this performance, and that outfit of yours while I make you some dinner. And where the blazes your chest hair's wandered off to."

Killian can't help the sound that escapes him – part sigh, part chuckle, and he doesn't even fight the grin that appears as he starts to tell Liam how the last month and a half has transpired.

-x-

"So tell us what we're seeing then," David says as soon as the Jones brothers disappear down the path.

"I didn't want to tell you guys until anything was solid, but I got a job audition at Regina's hotel in Portland." She figures the easiest way to calm them down might be to soften it with a possibility that she'll be moving closer to home.

"Emma, that's wonderful!" Snow exclaims, grabbing Emma's free hand and squeezing it. "But honey, why were you with a guest, and why would you take him off camp grounds? You know that's not allowed."

"When Ruby hurt herself, I didn't have a dance partner. Killian ah… he owed me a bit of a favor – long story – but he offered to let me teach him a dance so I could still go through with the audition without Ruby. Regina knew I would be subbing another dancer for the time being but Ruby and I would be both performing regularly at the hotel if we get this."

"So you'll be moving closer to home?" David asks, still skeptical about what he's hearing if his face is anything to go by.

"Yeah, I mean. Closer than Boston, which means I can probably visit a lot more outside of camp months." She's deliberately baiting them now, trying to avoid the uncomfortable conversation that could potentially follow.

"That would be so great," Snow reiterates. David, however, still has that pinched fatherly look that Emma hates to see.

"Emma, we still have to talk about your behavior with Killian."

"I haven't done anything seriously wrong. I didn't break your major rules. There's no relationship with him, and I managed to teach him without cancelling a single lesson or performance at the main lodge. I've been juggling all of this by myself since Ruby's fall. You know I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize my job here. I love this place, and I love my family."

"We love you, too. But Emma, if you ever do something like this again, we're going to have to consider a suspension."

"That's… harsh. But okay." She should shut her mouth and just go to her cabin, but before she can turn and walk away, her heart starts speaking for her. "You know, that whole rule about guests is something you should reconsider. It's okay for campers to see other campers, and counselors to see other counselors. Why is it such a big deal if someone starts to see a guest since we're all adults here?"

"Emma? Is there a reason you're bringing this up?"

Uh oh, she thinks. Snow's scary teacher voice is enough to not only get elementary school kids in line, but to get any reasonable adult to straighten up, as well.

"No, of course not. I just think you two should think about it," her voice is smaller than it's been around her brother and sister-in-law for ages. If she's not careful, she'll tell them that she's kissed him, and she really doesn't need that next level of what could be said between the three of them. And she still needs a job for the rest of the summer. And she also values her life. Instead, she hedges away from it. "I'm… I'm sorry. Really sorry. It won't happen again. I don't know what I was thinking."

David's face hasn't changed during the whole conversation, and he looks like he's about to push her previous statement again, but Snow puts her hand on David's chest and stops him before he says anything.

"Okay, Emma. We trust you. Just don't let it happen again."

Snow hugs her, careful not to disturb the bag over her arm, before dragging David back to their cart to drive back to their cabin. It's not even that late but she feels too exhausted to think about going to the main lodge for dinner. She's sure she has something in her cabin, but she's more interested in getting a shower and changing into pajamas than eating much of anything right now.

Emma hangs the garment bag on her closet door and unzips it, hoping she was correct in her quick decision. She smiles when she encounters a pair of jeans instead of the yoga pants she wore on the way out to Portland. This is Killian's bag. Now to hope that he understood the rest of what she was indicating.

Sure, she thinks to herself as she strips off her dress and throws it off to the side. Tell Snow and David that you're sorry, you won't do it again, there's nothing to worry about… And then she's all but asked Killian to the lion's den.

She sighs, pulling the clothes out and setting them off to the side. She puts the shoes with her dance stuff, making a mental note to pack them with the studio costumes for the rest of the summer. She hangs her dress and slips the bag over it before heading off to shower. She'll feel better once her hair can move freely again, that's for sure.

When she gets out, she slips on a fresh pair of sleep shorts but hesitates when she grabs the tank top she slept in the night before. Instead, she grabs Killian's t-shirt and slips it on. It smells like him, and she reminds herself that it'll likely be her little secret. She'll return it to him tomorrow if he doesn't show up. No one will know a thing.

Just as she's finishing putting her makeup back where it belongs, there's a knock on the door to her cabin. Her heart beats a whole lot harder when she sees Killian on the other side of it, his right hand fiddling with the garment bag on his left arm. He looks up the second she answers the door, swallowing hard as if he's suddenly having the same problem breathing as she is. Or maybe it's the fact that his white t-shirt might be the tiniest bit transparent and she's not wearing a bra.

"I'm sorry for showing up at such a late hour. If you're too tired, this can wait." His eyes sweep her appearance again, her wet hair hanging loose around her shoulders and her face scrubbed free of all the makeup she applied earlier.

"No, no. It's okay. Come in?" She shuts the door behind him, moving around to kick a few pairs of shoes off to the side and scoop up some delicates to place in her hamper. Maybe she should've picked up a bit before she showered. "I see you changed. And uh, discovered the mix up."

"I decided comfort over speed," he says, glancing around the small cabin space and clearly skirting the fact that she orchestrated this meeting. "Showered to get all that damn glue out of my hair, as well." She turns to look at him, to admire those calves she's been trying to not stare at while they've been training these last few weeks. He looks good in the dance costume, but he looks even better dressed down as he is right now in a pair of loose shorts and a fresh t-shirt.

"No leotard?"

He scoffs, smiling as he shakes his head. "No. No leotard. Nice shirt," he adds on, his eyes flicking down to it and back to her eyes, the move slow and deliberate.

So he doesn't see her blush and smile, she turns to stop the record that's been playing since she got out of the shower. It starts to dawn on her what she's doing, what she's asking him to do by being here like this. Is it a mistake? Will I regret it in the morning? The answer to both of the questions, in her humble opinion, is no. But anyone else might have more to say about it. She's so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she doesn't hear his footsteps move across the worn hardwood floor.

"Leave it on," he says, much closer than before, the heat of his body warming her back and his hand gentle on her wrist. They stand there suspended in the moment, quiet, the music background noise to the racket in her head. Her internal decision makers are at war, and the part of her that knows better – the part of her that only ever does the right thing, and promised Snow and David that there was no reason for them to worry about her involvement with Killian, the one that puts everyone else first – is quickly losing the battle.

She clears her throat in one last attempt to give that half of her brain a shot, but she's one step from throwing caution to the wind. "Killian."

"I know, love. If you tell me to leave now, I will. Without a doubt. Without a fight. But if you're going to say those words, you need to know that you truly brought my heart back to life. I'd wait forever for you, because it feels as if I already have." As he speaks, his breath flutters against her neck, his hand traveling to wrap around her fingers. His prosthetic rests on her waist, the weight of it now more familiar than she ever imagined. "Should I…?"

"Don't go," Emma finally responds. The unattended record switches songs, and an old tune kicks out of the speakers with a slow and gentle beat. "Dance with me." She doesn't turn yet, not when his body presses closer for a second, his lips ghosting across a spot on the back of her neck, before she spins in his arms.

His prosthetic rests on her waist once more as she places her hands on his shoulders. It's like the high school dance she always wanted to go to, except way better. She can't hide her surprise when he smoothly fits them together to dip her back, his hand holding steady along her ribcage. As she comes back up, she comes nose to nose with him. There's a lightness in his eyes that she's never seen, or at least didn't let herself notice, and a teasing smile just at the corner of his lips.

"Hey, how long has it been since you had a drink?"

"Since the first day you started teaching me. I allowed myself the balm to soothe my aches that night and then I hid my flask away and haven't touched it since."

Emma leaves the gentle rock of his embrace to circle around him, encouraging him to remove his shirt as she pulls away. She takes a moment to appreciate the smooth skin of his chest. Truth be told, she already wants the hair to grow back so she can feel it beneath her fingertips in a much different scenario this time. Her lips graze his shoulder as she moves, trailing across his shoulder blades next as her fingers glide along his skin.

"I don't know, I kinda miss the hair." She stops when she's directly behind him, sliding her hands up his chest, enjoying the way his muscles twitch and jump beneath her touch. He grunts as she moves back down and along his waist to shimmy his shorts off his hips until they land on the floor.

"Aye, so do I. It's a bit cold without it." His voice is lower, an undercurrent of want tinting the words.

"Also kinda wish you'd left the leotard on, now." Her hand brushes over the top of his boxer briefs before dropping down across his ass. The cotton of his underwear is smooth, but she longs for the silky fabric that would've provided next to no barrier between her skin and his.

"Maybe next time," he says, his voice even tighter as he licks his lips and his hand clenches at his side. It's just this side of a growl, and the sound of it goes straight to the wetness between her legs.

"Next time, huh? What makes you think there will be another night like this?"

"If there isn't, I swear I'll put the bloody thing on right now and we'll get it all out of our systems in this one night." He starts to move towards the garment bag he'd set down when he walked in but she stops him, pulling him down to kiss him once, solidly, just a firm press before she moves away for a second.

"Not a one-time thing," she says quickly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him once more. From there, they abandon the pretense of dancing, instead letting intimacy lead their feet to the bed and their hands to wander. Her breathing shallows when he pulls her flush against him, his cock already hard from their different kind of foreplay. He hikes her thigh up over his hip and presses right against her, and that's when she finally releases that do-gooder side for real. This she wants. This she's going to take, because it's willingly being offered to her and because she's a grown woman who knows what she wants.

"Hang on," she says, holding her finger to his lips for just a second to pause their attentions so she can go find the condoms she bought at the drugstore when they were in Storybrooke (best whim she's ever had), and he nips at her finger before releasing his hold on her. She has to go into her closet to find the bag stashed way in the back, and she can hear him fiddling with the stereo in the meantime. The song switches to the one she recognizes immediately as one of the first songs they danced to what feels like ages ago now. She tosses the bag onto the bed before making her way back into his arms.

She takes a moment to strip his t-shirt over her head, and he gets a good eyeful of her bare breasts before she's kissing him again. His hand resumes wandering enough for his eyes as they each seek to control the kiss.

This dance is much more intimate than that first time they danced, obviously. But they shift together as he fits his leg between hers. She bends back, trusting his hold as she arches her back and extends her arms over her head. He runs his fingers from her bellybutton up, veering over to palm one of her breasts before his fingers close around that nipple and pull – just enough, just until the noise stutters out of her – and repeating the same motion on the other. She rolls up, but he's moved again, his lips following the same path his fingers just did, a gentle nibble to each breast accompanying. She holds his head steady, encouraging him with quiet words as he teases her in all the right ways.

Already, she can feel an orgasm building with the way he urges her to keep riding his leg and the attentions to her chest. She's so close, her movements turning harsh as she rubs harder, feeling no shame as her own slickness wets through her shorts and against his leg. His hand returns to her waist, guiding her to speed up and chase her pleasure as his mouth closes around the soft skin of her breast again and he sucks a mark into the top of it. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and neck, her hands finding purchase in his hair just in time for her to shudder hard and fall apart against him. She might cry out, she might call his name as she comes, but she's only aware of the way she feels and the pleasure coursing through her whole body.

Killian kisses his way up her chest and neck, back up to her lips, and his hand dips down to grab her ass and fit her tight against his erection. Despite how boneless she already feels, it's a thrill to know that's all for her – all because of her. When Emma feels like she can move her legs without collapsing, she walks him backwards until he's standing at the foot of her bed. Taking great pleasure in feeling the way his muscles tense and shift beneath her hands, she eases the boxer briefs from his hips and urges him back onto the bed. She's all too happy to discard her own shorts before climbing up onto the bed after him.

They make up their own choreography from that point, with Killian arching off the bed as her hand wraps around his cock. For just a moment, she takes him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head once before pressing her tongue along the underside. When his hand clenches the bedsheets so hard his knuckles turn white, she releases him with one last lick to the head before she moves to straddle his thighs while she gets the condom on him.

"This all seems tidy," Emma comments idly, taking in where the waxing would've ended and noticing how well-groomed he is below the waist.

"May have gotten a few other services done at the spa."

"You did this for me?"

Killian raises up on his elbows, his eyes open and honest. "With no expectations whatsoever, but yes."

"Good."

Slowly, she sinks down the length of him until she's seated fully on his lap, her breathing rapid as she squeezes her muscles around him once to bask in the way he fills her up. Killian falls flat to his back again, his hand resting high on her thigh as she adjusts.

They move together then, their dance frenzied. She's on the brink of another orgasm, and even closer when he presses the heel of his palm against her clit. It serves to increase the feeling of him inside of her, too, and she cries out softly as she grabs the headboard of the old, sturdy bed and works her hips faster against him.

"Killian," she sighs, her eyes sliding shut as he gathers her close to kiss her as he plants his feet on the bed to thrust up into her. It's a smaller one, this time, but she wants one of the spectacular ones while he's inside of her.

She needs more – more friction, more speed – and Killian slips out briefly in order to flip their positions. She's not entirely sure she didn't say it out loud, but he eases back into her and she forgets all together.

"Okay?" he asks quietly, and she opens her eyes to look at him, nodding just once and wrapping her legs around his waist to open the angle. With the change in sensation for him, he groans low and props himself on his left elbow so his right hand can explore while he kisses her again. His hand shifts between stroking her cheek to toying with a nipple, to grasping her waist as he briefly lifts enough to watch them come together. As he speeds up, he reaches for her hand, holding it tightly between their chests as he looks into her eyes.

It doesn't take long from there, with their bodies becoming slick from the warmth of coming together, and she watches his face as his climax hits, watches the way his eyes squeeze shut and he grits his teeth. He keeps going, keeps fucking her until one last of her own washes through her and she calls his name again.

He rests on top of her, the weight of his body comforting and grounding as they both come down from that ultimate high. To her, sex and performing are almost synonymous, but her adrenaline from Killian is much more than when they danced for a whole audience tonight. Her legs slide from around his waist and he repositions to settle while braced on his elbows. He leans down once to kiss the space between her breasts, and her breath catches somewhere in her throat.

"I thought you were the height of sensual when we first danced together. I was very wrong," he says, the words reverberating against her chest from where he's still lingering.

As the liquid sensation fades from her limbs, she lifts her hand to push his hair off his forehead, stroking down his cheek in the process. He looks up at her, then, his eyes hooded and sleepy, and he turns to nip at her palm this time, smiling against her skin. She smiles back, crooking her finger under his chin to draw him up for a kiss. It's one they both sigh into, and Emma's all too happy to oblige when he shifts around to lie down beside her and tugs her closer.

With her head pillowed on his shoulder, she drifts in and out of sated sleep, only moving again when he moves them into a more comfortable position. Once her head hits the pillow, she's asleep, her hand securely tangled with his once more.