AN: This is just a quick (slightly M-rated?) follow-up to my last chapter, because of course Emma wouldn't just leave Hook after he nearly died. As always, thanks for reading!
They're laying in his bed at Granny's, arms and legs tangled together, Emma's bare back against his bare chest, when she turns to him and brings up the thing which had been bothering her all evening.
"When we kissed at the station-when the curse was about to hit...You already knew you were going to die." she says, eyes somehow still bright in the near-dark of the room.
"Aye." Killian confirms after a long moment of looking at her, though it's not a question. Emma turns to lay her chest against his, facing him with a dark expression.
"I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner." she says, and Hook feels the guilt set in immediately. "I knew it, too. I knew there was something off-"
"Don't berate yourself, love." Killian interrupts gently. "Please." He runs his good hand through her hair, which is hopelessly tangled, and Emma's face softens. "None of the guilt is yours to bare in this circumstance. I was a fool to trust the Crocodile." He can sense the protest as it forms on her lips, so he kisses her, not wanting to ruin the blissful atmosphere as he had earlier. Killian had admitted to all of his transgressions, and yet, miraculously, Emma is here in his arms. He's still amazed by that-the woman's absolute and unyielding faith in him-and humbled, as well. To love Emma, to (perhaps?) be loved by her; it was a form of magic in and of itself. It was something to celebrate rather than spoil by arguing about (now moot) points.
Emma shifts on top of him, straddling his lap now as Killian pulls her tighter into the kiss. They had yet to leave his bed-their gratitude and their relief at having Killian's heart returned landing them there an hour ago-and Emma knew that soon enough they'd be expected by Snow and the others, but the need to stay there for just a while longer was too great. Honestly, now that Emma knew exactly how good things between them could be, she didn't expect to be leaving Killian's bed too often in the next century or so.
Killian brushes his hand down Emma's spine, making her shiver and arch herself into him. She cranes her neck as Killian blazes a trail of kisses from her jaw to her breasts. She shifts again, granting him the space to slide back into her, giving a small gasp at the sensation. Emma raises and lowers herself a few times, smirking when Killian gives a low grunt, before the smug look is wiped from her face with a sharp thrust from the pirate. He flips them over, gaining the upper hand, not that Emma can find it in her to object. Killian thrusts deeply, then moves agonizingly slow, making Emma bite hard on her lip to keep from crying out. (It was a burden of being at Granny's, where the walls were thin and where the whole town seemed to be, but one they were willing to bare).
They move gradually for a while (unlike their first encounter just an hour ago, which had been heated and needy and completely wanton), until the urgency is overwhelming them both and they take up the rapid (perfect) pace again. Emma turns them back over with some effort, pressing her palms to Killian's chest as she rocks against him. "Emma," he hisses, and she loves the way it-her name, her real name, not 'love' or 'darling' or even 'Swan'-sounds falling from his tongue. The friction is just right, and he's hitting that spot, and Emma can barely stand it as Killian grabs for her hips, fire pooling low in her abdomen-
They finish with muffled moans and a final roll of Emma's hips, and she falls against him, laying there for several minutes before rolling off and onto the mattress. Her heart's still pounding (and so is his, a thing which he'd never quite appreciated before) when Killian turns his head to look at her.
"I love you." he declares-sounding more like a vow than anything else-and he'd promised himself he wouldn't say it after sex, wouldn't allow Emma to think it was the heat of the moment, but she was watching him, laying beside him with her hair a mess and face flushed and green eyes dancing- still impossibly bright in the dark. He needs her to know he means it, despite his ill timing, despite the fact that she is naked and beautiful and sharing his bed. He had fully intended to let her say the words first, to wait until Emma was comfortable enough to say them. But he had loved her for so long now, and so much, and he needs Emma to know that above all else, he will never go where they cannot go together.
She considers him for a moment, and Killian can see in her eyes that she's caught off guard. But then Emma kisses him, long and slow and tender, with hands on his jaw and smile on her lips. She doesn't verbalize the return of his sentiment, but the gesture makes things more than clear. It's not the response he'd hoped for, exactly, but it's something (progress, Killian thinks; while it may not be a declaration neither is it an exit strategy). Emma's whisper of be patient echoes in his ears, and Killian decides that this something is good enough for him.
When they part, she keeps watching him, silent as she considers how vulnerable Killian is under her gaze. He only allows himself to be defenseless like this with her, Emma realizes, and sees Killian as he is: the former villain, desperately wanting to be redeemed. And his attempts were misguided (he was an idiot to think she cared whether he had a hook or hand or none of the above), but they were for her.
He was not perfect and he never would be, but Emma loved him (though she couldn't say so quite yet)- deals with Dark Ones aside.