A/N: Thank you everyone who has favorited, reviewed and followed this story. It means a lot to me. A huge thank you to my two betas, Steph-the-fangirl-925 and aimeeloren. Check out Stephanie's videos at Just4FunVids925 on YouTube, as they are wonderful. This chapter is rated M for sexual conduct. If you wish to avoid this please skip the italicized section.
Disclaimer: I do not own the major characters to this story as they belong to OUAT.
Chapter 10:
Emma's hands ran up the hard planes of his chest, one muscled by centuries of living on the seas. Killian pulled her closer so he could feel every inch of her, the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, the slide of her thighs against his. His right hand grabbed tightly to her thigh as he yanked it up to his naked hip. Killian's head leaned in to suckle her tightened nipple.
"More," she breathed into the skin of his neck.
Desperate to comply, he lifted her, turning so he could lay her upon the bed. Once there, he stood to appreciate his handiwork. Her breaths came in rasps. Her nipples puckered begging for his touch once more. Emma's eyes were dilated, her lids half-closed in her passionate state. He ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, pressing her leg further open. Dropping to his knees on the hardwood floor, Killian's mouth followed the path his hand had taken. When he reached the junction of her sex, he eagerly lapped at the juices spilling from her.
He heard Emma's moans and pleas for more. His teeth nipped lightly at her nub, causing her back to arch. Killian's right hand pressed down on her stomach holding her down gently as he plundered inside her with his practiced tongue. Nothing in his life compared to this moment. The taste of Emma in his mouth was the sweetest of nectars. A pool he would eagerly worship and protect just to have a single sip.
Her hands tugged at his hair and he knew the exact moment she went over the precipice. Slowing his mouth's movements to allow her to ease back into herself. He rose over her fondling his erection almost ready to explode himself just from watching the woman he loved ebb and flow from her orgasm. Emma's eyes opened and he could swear he saw love shining from her eyes, as her hands reached out for him.
Sheathing himself inside her, Killian closed his eyes to restrain himself. He'd wanted to be inside her for so long. He felt her hips shift under his own and he followed her movements, letting her set their pace. She shifted and he found himself on the bed as she sat above him, her hair flowing all around the both of them, glowing gold in the moonlight streaming through the small window.
Emma's mouth met his and he squeezed her breast making her groan into his mouth. She rode him as steady as the Jolly did a raging storm, for all she was worth. Emma's inner walls clenched tightly around him and he couldn't hold back any longer. With a few quick and powerful thrusts, he propelled them both over the edge of desire. Their screams mingling in the night air.
He reached for her hips. One hand clasped onto the silky flesh at her side, while the other flashed silver. Before the sharp edge of the hook pierced Emma's skin, Killian woke up.
Sweat poured into his eyes and he sat up in bed. Looking down he saw both of his hands clenched into the damp sheets. Killian's heart was pumping so hard he expected it to jump from his chest. Standing, he went to the window and threw it open wide, relishing the slight bit of chilled wind that slipped inside.
The cool air ran over his sweat-stained body. Ripping the wet shirt from his chest, he used it to wipe at his face. Killian couldn't remember ever having a dream that had him so revved up sexually and so scared at the same time. He'd almost hurt Emma in his dream, with a hook for a hand.
A knock sounded softly on his door. It had to be around four in the morning. Who could possibly be up? Killian walked over and opened the oak panel. Emma stood on the other side. Her hair disheveled, a tiny tank top and shorts barely covering the most delectable parts of her.
He hadn't seen her in over a week. Not since the night he confronted her in the hall. Killian had done his best to avoid her after that. And a few days later, when he began to work with Father Bastian, Killian's schedule turned erratic.
There had been days Killian had barely slept four hours. Yet, no matter how exhausted he was, he dreamed of Emma. Her touch. Her kiss. Having her in his arms. And now she stood before him barely dressed, looking more enticing than many of the dreams he had had. At least all of the ones he had had before tonight.
"Are you okay? You screamed," she told him with a worried frown marring her features.
"I'm fine. Only a bad dream, Swan. Nothing to worry about," he said trying to dismiss it and her.
He noticed her eyes had yet to reach his face. Glancing down, he realized he had yet to replace his wet shirt and only stood before her in his boxer briefs. And they were leaving nothing to anyone's imagination as his erection still strained heavily against the cotton.
"Are you sure?" Emma's eyes finally met his. He could see the desire in their sleepy depths.
"I'm positive, Swan. It's fine." His hands clenched at his sides in an attempt to keep them from grabbing her. His dream was probably a warning to keep them to himself or he would hurt her. It's not like people really ran around with hooks in place of a hand.
He watched her bend down to retrieve the shirt he must have dropped. Her breasts hung heavily, displaying themselves to his eager gaze, begging for him to reach out and touch them, caress them as he had in his dream. A low growl escaped his lips and Emma blushed as she stood holding out his shirt, a hand clenched tight to the top of her own shirt, once she noticed where his eyes strayed. Emma chewed her bottom lip and glanced between him and the door as if uncertain she should remain.
Before she could choose to run, he stole the decision from her. "God save me."
Her eyes flashed confusion before he yanked on her shirt and pulled her toward him. His mouth closed tightly over hers. He'd do penance come morning, but right now if he didn't taste her he'd die.
The feel of her lips felt like coming home. A flash of a ship inside a storm and a thick jungle filled with ferocious boys with clubs and bows washed over him. He shoved her away. When their lips disconnected so did the visions in his head.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, knowing he'd now have to pay more penance for lying, because he wasn't sorry at all.
Her eyes were as large as saucers as her left hand raised to her kiss swollen lips. She looked as if she wanted to say something as her mouth opened and closed, but no sound escaped.
Killian turned away from her and walked to the dresser. Shaking his head, he changed directions and went to the small closet, pulling out his black cassock. He needed the feel of the rough cotton over his sensitized skin to remind him that being near Emma Swan was a very bad idea. When he looked back at his door, Emma and his shirt were gone. If he couldn't still feel the pressure of her mouth under his own, he'd have been able to convince himself it had all been a figment of his over active imagination.
Grabbing his rosary beads from the bedpost, Killian fell to his knees and began to pray.
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Emma leaned back against her door, breathing heavily. He kissed her. Her hand came up and caressed her lips. As much as she relished the feel of him wrapped around her after all this time apart, disappointment set in. They kissed. They kissed and nothing happened. They kissed and Killian still didn't remember who he was.
It was so reminiscent of the kiss in New York. Only now she was on the receiving end of the misery of having failed. Emma walked to her bed and fell backwards, still clenching the wet fabric of Killian's shirt in her hand. She stared up and the lights flickering across the ceiling of her room and remembered the night not so long ago when she stood inside a cave in Neverland and watched the lights flickering on the ceiling in a similar pattern of a star map that might have guided them home.
What she needed was a Plan B. Killian had a bottle of memory potion, but Emma didn't possess that. She had left town too quickly to even think of crafting one to bring with her. Emma doubted that she'd be able to make one on her own here in Italy when even Regina had trouble brewing one from the remnants of what was left of the one Killian had given Emma in New York.
How was she supposed to make someone remember who they were when they were happy to forget? Emma knew she had been desperate to return to New York even once she had her memories because her life had been easier, simpler. Who was to say that Killian wouldn't do the same? Maybe after living the life of a priest, without the constraints of knowing he was once a villainous character, Killian would feel better returning to his new life, leaving her behind as she once planned to leave him. Oh, how the tables had turned.
Killian had pushed and pulled at all her buttons to make sure she would remain in Storybrooke with him after she remembered. Yet, she had pushed him away at every opportunity. And, now, she had no idea if Killian wouldn't do the same to her.
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"Emma, are you listening?" Mary-Margaret repeated.
"Sorry, I was thinking about Killian." Emma pushed herself off the bed and wandered her small room. It barely seemed like it was only early this morning when he had kissed her.
She had gone looking for him after she woke up sideways on her bed, still clenching his shirt, but he had already left for the day. Being Sunday, his day was even more filled than any other despite his lack of classes. And now that he was working with a local priest, he barely came back to sleep, missing dinner altogether.
"I can't believe Regina let Cruella and Ursula back into town. They're bound to be up to something."
Emma sighed and pushed thoughts of Killian to the side to concentrate on her mother. "Regina told Robin that they helped with the Chernabog and that they just want to find redemption for themselves."
"That's what they say, but I don't know if we can trust them."
"Mom," Emma sighed once more. "This isn't like you. If Regina can change then maybe they can too."
"I'd like to believe that, but with Belle and Pinocchio still missing your father and I aren't convinced. What are the chances that they come back just as people start disappearing?"
"Still no sign of Belle or Pinocchio?"
"No, and Will and Marco are extremely worried."
Emma walked to the window and fiddled with the curtains. She stared out the window and saw Signora Assante was outside gathering some herbs for the dinner she was preparing. "Any signs of Gold? He's the only person I can think of who would want to harm Belle."
"No, not yet, but your father thought the same thing. He's enlisted some of Robin's Merry Men to take some shifts now that you and Killian are gone."
"Speaking of… Have you and dad gone over the pictures I sent you from the book at the library some more?"
"Your father confirmed that it was definitely the cottage he grew up in, which I'm sure he's already told you when you spoke earlier this week. Henry searched at the library and found a heraldry. We were amazed at the likeness of the two princes you mentioned and your father. They must be related, but we have yet to prove how. Henry is working on trying to figure it all out."
"How is Henry?"
"He just walked in a minute ago. I'll let you talk to him," Mary-Margaret told her. Emma could hear Mary-Margaret call out to Henry and running feet.
"Hi, Mom."
"Hey, kid. Sounds like you've been keeping busy."
"Between Operation Mongoose and Operation True Love's Ring, I barely have time for homework."
"Henry," Emma reprimanded.
He laughed. "Don't worry, Mom. Between Grandma and Mom they make sure I'm not slacking off on my schoolwork."
"Good." Emma turned away from the window and sat on her bed, knowing at any time Robin was bound to be knocking on her door. They planned to go to a local coffee shop for a couple of hours before dinner to discuss their Plan B. "How is school going?"
"It's okay." Emma could picture Henry shrugging as he said the words.
"Any new developments with Operation Mongoose?"
"Mom talked to Pinocchio and Marco before Pinocchio disappeared, but he didn't remember anything. However, Marco gave Mom August's old notes and such. We found a picture of a door that looks like it could have been part of the book at one time. August left a Post-It Note with the word author and a question mark. We don't know what it means yet, but we'll get there."
"Keep me informed. I know I'm here in Rome, but if you want to talk, just call, okay?"
"Uh-huh. How are things with Killian?"
She was about to answer when a knock sounded outside her door. "I have to go, kid. I'll tell you more later, I promise. Love you."
"Bye, Mom."
Emma placed her phone on the nightstand and went to answer her door expecting Robin to be standing on the other side. Instead Killian stood there, his back to her dressed in his black robe.
"Killian?"
He turned back and faced her. His expression haunted.
"What happened?" Emma ushered him inside leaving the door open as per Signora Assante's instructions.
"Have you ever experienced something that you just can't explain?"
"Yes. I went through a lot of that when I first moved to Storybrooke. And then in New York when this guy was trying to make me remember him when I had forgotten."
He gave her a quizzical look. "You lived in Storybrooke?"
Emma nodded. "Yes."
"How come I can't remember you? Did you ever attend church?"
"No. I never did," she assured him. She watched as he lowered himself and sat on her bed. Then he jumped up suddenly and glared at it as if it burned him. He began to pace, his robes swinging around his legs as he stalked in one direction then the other. Every so often his fingers would rake through his hair, disturbing the pristine condition it had once been in. "Killian?"
He stopped and turned to her. "Yes?"
"You were telling me about something unexplainable," she prompted him.
"Oh. Aye." He looked around as if noticing for the first time he was in her room. "I don't know why I came here."
Emma sat on her bed. "You sounded like you needed to talk. Did something happen?"
He sat next to her. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but…" He raked his hands through his hair again, tugging at the strands. "I attended an exorcism today. I've attended others and thought that the people just needed help. Psychiatric help. But, today, this young girl looked at me and she said that people like me shouldn't disgrace the cloth. That I was a devil disguised as an angel. That after all that I have done I should be ashamed to cross myself before the crucifix.
"I disregarded it at first, because some of the things you see during these sessions can be alarming. However, before she left she handed me this." He reached inside a hidden pocket and pulled out a silver chain with a skull head and a dagger charm.
Emma jumped up. "How did you get that?"
Killian's gaze locked with hers. "You know this?"
Emma nodded and walked over to the dresser. Looking inside she discovered the necklace Whale had given her missing. She turned back to him. "It belongs to my friend."
"Captain Hook?" he asked with some contempt.
She gazed at him confused. "How do you know that?"
"Please, Emma. He's a character from a novel. You can't expect me to believe he is real."
"Believe what you want. Can I have it back?" Emma held out her hand.
Killian clenched the necklace in his hand and rose from the bed. "The girl told me it belonged to me. To Captain Hook, who shamed the church by claiming to be a man of the cloth."
Emma reached out and caressed his cheek. She expected him to pull back, to flinch at her touch, but he didn't. He remained, his expression stoic. "You have a good heart, Killian Jones. Don't let anyone ever put doubt in your heart."
"Not even you?"
She smiled at him softly, but didn't answer. He pulled her hand from his face and dropped the necklace in her palm, curling her fingers around it. Emma looked down at their joined hands. It was a beginning. Knowing that he had confronted the knowledge of being Captain Hook was going to take them down a path that Emma was unsure of, but it was a step that had needed to be taken and she was glad that the first steps were already completed.