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Ten years earlier
"Emma. I love you. You know that, right?"
Staring down at the threadbare carpet, her eyelids fluttered as she tried to hold back a tear. Her fingers were wrapped around the cheap cellophane of the gas station flowers he had thrust into her hands minutes earlier. Behind her was the table she had spent so long arranging - the candles were lit, the silverware she had polished gleamed in the soft light and the little red hearts she had cut from a magazine were scattered about over the scratched and worn table.
Drawing in a breath, she managed to nod slightly. Turning away her head so he wouldn't see how close she was to crying. "Yeah. I know…"
"And you know if there was any way I could get out of this-"
He was at her side, one hand on her waist and the other tilting her chin to face him.
"I understand. It's …business."
"Yeah, business,"he smiled, leaning down to give her a quick, dry kiss on the cheek.
"Wh-what about dinner?"she asked with a slight stammer, digging her fingers into his flannel shirt, tugging him closer, wishing he would stay.
"Aw babe, you eat without me. Put mine in the fridge. I'll have it later."
Snatching another kiss, he quickly pulled away and picked up his backpack that was lying on the floor by the door.
"Later?" he nodded.
"Later,"she sighed as he slipped outside.
Then, she let the tears fall.
Present Day
Hot, scorching waters soothed the aches in her body while the bubbles that tickled her skin softly crackled as they disintegrated in the moist air.
The room was filled with thick steam: the mirror had become opaque with condensation and she could see the slight marks where the maid had cleaned it. Every breath she took was heavy and battled against her throat. Her hair was beginning to curl a little round her face the longer she laid there.
She wasn't sure how long she had been soaking, but she was in no hurry to leave. This little oasis of peace and harmony was her time to just be. And she relished it.
There was a soft knock on the door.
"May I come in?"
An unexpected smile lit up her face at the sound of his voice.
Waking up that morning, curled in his arms, the sunlight on her face. It had felt, well, good. He had made her feel good.
And that hadn't happened in a very long time.
"Sure," she called out, picking up the small pink razor that she had requested from reception that morning and beginning to work at her legs.
He gave her a cheeky smile as he sauntered across the room. He was still naked. Neither of them had bothered to put on any clothes, save for the robe he had wrapped around himself when room service had arrived earlier. At the sink he began to brush his teeth: his back to her, giving Emma a fine view of his toned back and ass, each peppered with faint red marks where she had clawed him the night before.
Biting her lip, she tried to look away. Her cheeks were blushing (and she hoped it was hidden by the damp air) and her stomach was already doing flips as she felt that desire for his body rise again. Distracted, she began to make quick strokes with the razor, letting out a soft hiss when she nicked her ankle.
"Typical woman," he teased, "No good with a sharp implement."
He curved around, arching his back until he was looking at her with a mixture of amusement and arousal, toothbrush in hand.
"Think you can do a better job?" she goaded, swinging the piece of pink plastic between her fingertips as she raised her brows.
He ran his tongue between his lips then replaced the toothbrush onto the marble countertop, replacing it in his hands with a small can of shaving cream. Then, slowly, he sauntered over to her, sinking to his haunches and taking the razor from between her fingers.
Emma lifted her leg out of the still water and rested her foot on the thick rim of the large, oval bathtub. Pulling off the cap, he squeezed a handful of mint scented cream into his hands, rubbing it between his palms before gently easing it over the exposed skin. She let her eyes close at his touch, his fingers applying light pressure that created a massaging action that sent pleasurable pulses through the muscles of her calves.
When her leg was coated with a thick, white layer he took his hand and cradled her foot - his fingers curling under the arch while his thumb ran over the bones of her toes. Gently, slowly, he brought the blade to the just above her ankle before softly pulling it up her leg, clearing a path through the foam that covered her skin.
Reaching her knee, he started again; he had to lean over her a little to reach. She felt his breath cooling her skin where it peeked through the bubbles. His hand moved from her foot to her ankle: tipping her leg higher as the blade danced along her skin.
It shouldn't feel so good, she thought, it shouldn't feel so…intimate. But the sensation of him sliding the razor down her legs was increasing the heat between them, and that familiar ache was starting press against her stomach.
Pausing, he slid his fingers down the top of her shin; it was smooth and glistened in the low lighting of the room. He bent forward and began to lay a trail of kisses along the angled edge of the bone. His lips dragging along the damp surface and she began to shudder slightly - little trickles of pleasure inching down her spine with increasing speed the longer his lips remained in contact with her skin.
"You are so, so beautiful Emma," he muttered between kisses before turning back his head to look at her, "Do you know that?"
She felt ambushed by his beautiful blue gaze, and her eyelashes began to flutter a little in a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. How did he make these lines seem so sincere?
Inside her mind Emma was conflicted - to let him continue, to allow herself to get wrapped up in the moment…it seemed wrong somehow. But at the same time it felt so good. His touch was addictive. She wanted him to never stop: wanted him to crawl into her skin so she could always feel him...
Her hips tilted and she thrust her waist upward until her breasts began to peek out from the cover of the bubbles. When he spotted the pink of her nipples, he set her leg back down and reached over and began to palm one soft breast in his hand, gently kneading and massaging the flesh as he continued to run the razor up her leg. Methodically he worked, quick, light strokes traced by soft finger touches…
Heart racing, she chewed on her tongue, stilling the urge to moan - but still the build-up of electricity and tension in her stomach continued and her other leg began to curl up under the water and her hips began to rock back and forth.
Fingers started to trail again: up the inside of her leg, beginning mid-calf, gradually pushing higher, tingling every inch of skin as they moved. Then the warm softness of his mouth latched onto her nipple. She couldn't help but cry out. The gentle lapping of his tongue, the way he lightly rolled her hardened peak between his teeth was too much. She gave in.
With one hand, she grasped his bicep while the fingers of the other tugged on his hair and held him close to her chest. Working one breast with his mouth, his hand circled the other - just as the fingers that were working up her thigh suddenly reached her core and began to slip inside her - one, two, three…She squeezed her thighs together. It felt so good and tight as he started to arch his fingers into her - his mouth becoming more aggressive of its ownership of her breast. The water was lapping against her body now and she felt so alive. It was though she were lying in the surf at sunset - and he was the sun, warming and radiating her body with his heat.
And Emma wanted more.
The fingers in his hair tugged harder, until his mouth was on hers. She pulled on his arm until he was sliding over the rim of the bath, slipping into the large tub until nothing but a slick of water lay between them. His body glided over hers, lubricated by the soap and it felt divine: soft and fluid. He was pushing closer. She could feel the hardness of his cock where her leg and hip met and she just wanted him. Now. Then.
Frantically, she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his length. Long, hard and heavy - almost familiar now in its balance and feel. She squeezed him tight: enjoying the way he moaned in her mouth and plunged his tongue deeper. Slowly she stroked him - mimicking the motion with her hips - levelling the base of his erection so it rubbed against her clit and made stars begin to appear at the edges of her vision.
And it felt so good. And she just couldn't wait.
Titling up her hips, he slipped easily inside and the warm, filling sensation pulsed through her-
He started, pulling back so their eyes met - she took a few heavy breaths, scrunching her brow - not answering his unspoken question, instead wrapping her legs around his hips and drawing him so deep inside her she thought she would cry in pleasure and urging his lips back to her own.
Rocking against him, she blocked out the thoughts of stop - no - don't-
They weren't strong enough to break past the want. And she wanted this.
He met her rapid thrusts, his ass bucking out of the water with wanton abandon - the feel of naked flesh against naked flesh, spurring them both on, past regret and into pure pleasure. She could feel him moving inside her. Loved the way he tilted his hips and changed the angle. Burned at the feel of his breath on her neck as he nibbled on her ear and his fingers gripped her waist - slipping because of the water so he had to grip tighter and she knew it would leave a bruise.
His hips were thrusting harder too - the bones thrashing against her thighs.
The motion, the water, his breath, his hands-
Then he started to whisper in her ear.
How much he wanted her, how good she felt, the way it felt to be inside her, the pleasure of being able to feel her-
And it was all too, too much…
She fell apart around him. Her fingers curled and dug into his back. Her toes tightened and her legs twisted together and crushed him against her. Her neck arched back as she let out a tightened moan as he slammed into her one last time-
And he stiffened and cursed and his hands began to slacken as he followed her climax with his own until his head came to rest on her shoulder.
Then as the throbbing waves of pleasure began to cede, creeping regret began to replace it.
She shouldn't have done that.
Ten years earlier
The water was cold.
She wasn't sure how long she had been there. Minutes? Hours?
She had been staring at the same spot on the wall for as long as she could remember; a crack in the plaster work that was blackened with the dank mildew that clung to almost every surface and made her breath catch in her throat and her chest ache.
She traced its jagged line with her eyes as it snaked across the wall and branched into two.
Her mind hummed. It was playing some song from the 80's that had been on the radio that morning when she had driven to work - some sickly sweet upbeat ballad that she couldn't remember the name of but couldn't shake all the same.
She shivered.
She really should get out of the water…
Tired, her eyes dropped and landed on the little plastic stick on the edge of the rusty tub. Two blue lines striking across the small plastic window in the middle.
How did this happen? She had been careful. Well, most of the time.
They weren't ready. Hell, she wasn't sure they ever would be.
And where was he? He had been gone hours.
Her stomach churned and she felt sick. The water was beginning to sap what little heat she had left from her body and her teeth chattered.
She should get out.
But instead, she stayed still. Staring again at the same crack in the wall…
Present Day
"You're very quiet," he commented as she wrapped her hair in a towel. Perched on the side of the tub she had her head down. He was stood by the vanity, a towel low slung around his hips as he watched her.
"That was not a good idea," she whispered.
'Perhaps not…" he admitted. "Do we need to-"
"I take the pill so don't worry about that," she sighed, she lifted her head and looked up - she knew the edges of her mouth were turned down.
Emma Swan didn't do that. She hadn't been that intimate with a man, since, well - him. Neal.
She squeezed her eyes to block out his name.
"Look," he began softly, moving forward until he was sat next to her, "Perhaps it wasn't the smartest thing. But I don't regret it. I trust you, Emma."
She smiled briefly. She understood his meaning.
"I don't - I don't do this, you know. Ever."
"Neither do I-" he replied quickly, kissing her shoulder.
Stop being so nice! Her mind screamed.
Stiffening against his kiss, she tightened her grip on the towel.
"I - um, I think I need some fresh air," she muttered.
"Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked.
Her face was slightly crumpled as she looked back at him, "I'd rather go alone. I won't be long. I just feel…"
Killian's expression seemed to harden, his jaw tightened and his brow became heavier. He nodded, "Of course."
To Emma it sounded like he didn't understand at all, but she ignored her doubts and slipped into the bedroom to pull on some clothes.
Ten years earlier
The door slammed.
She shook herself and rubbed her face with her crinkled hands - pinched from soaking in the tub for so long.
She grabbed a towel and hurried out into the bedroom, pulling on her robe as she made her way along the short hallway to the living room.
He was home, but something was wrong. His hair was a mess. His backpack was open and he was running around the room tossing in random items.
"Honey, what are you doing?"
Looking up, he didn't smile. His dark eyes looked wild and his chest was heaving.
"Nothing, nothing-"
He continued to search the room. He grabbed the small silver frame that held their first picture together - in a photo booth at Coney Island. They had been happy then.
He tossed in a fancy lighter, a heavy marble ash tray. Random things.
"Neal…" she began. Her heart was racing. Something was wrong.
"I said nothing is wrong," he snapped. Roughly he tugged on the zip and bounded over to her, grabbing her neck and pulling her into a hard kiss.
"Neal-" she murmured in protest.
"I gotta go out again. Just for an hour."
"But you just got home-"
"And I gotta go out again," he repeated, wrinkling his brow as he stared down at her. Another kiss on the forehead. He thought kisses made everything better.
"Okay," she sighed as she watched him slip out into the night.
Present Day
Inside is was much warmer than the ambient temperature outside and she tossed off her coat quickly once he opened the door, her skin already burning where the cool wind had whipped it.
"You were gone a while. I was worried."
"Sorry," she mumbled, as she pushed past him, tugging off her boots as she walked.
"Emma-"
His hand was on her arm. She stopped. He walked around until he was facing her. He smelled like soap and soft cologne. In his plain white t-shirt he looked so handsome she wanted to look away. Because it was pointless to continue that train of thought. This was what it was - no matter how lovely and beguiling he was at times.
"What is wrong?"
Her eyes glanced around the room as he let go of her arm.
"Did I do something?"
She quickly shook her head and tears pricked at her eyes. She could never make him understand.
He rubbed his thumb under her chin but she still couldn't look at him. He and stepped backwards until he was sat on the back of the sofa, hands on his knees.
"I know you better than you think, Emma. I recognize that look in your eyes. You think you hide it well, but, it takes one to know one."
Her interest piqued, she looked up but didn't speak.
"I get it. I do. Someone you cared about hurt you, didn't they?"
Emma pushed out her bottom lip in a semi-pout. She wasn't going to cry.
"So now you push everyone away. Because it's easier."
"It's not easier,"she whispered, bringing her hand to her mouth.
Pushing himself up, he moved closer again. "Do you even have any friends Emma? Any family? Anyone?"
No, no, no, she wanted to cry. She was alone and that was the best way because it was safe. Even it was hard. It wasn't as hard as having your heart torn in two.
"You know, you wear your pain like a badge of honor," he muttered,"It's a warning to all to stay away," turning away from her and looking out of the window.
The words stung. Emma knew their truth, but to see an analysis of her character laid out there so plainly was wounding. She sighed and pressed her eyes closed."But you didn't."
"No,"he smiled, "I guess I didn't. Because I want to know you. To get inside that mind of yours and see what makes you tick. What made this beautiful woman so broken."
"You really want to know? I let someone hurt me," she replied. Sinking to sit on the couch, she rubbed her forehead with the palm of her right hand, "More than that. I was destroyed by another person. I never want that to happen - to feel like that - again."
"Don't you mean you never want to feel anything again?"
"If that's what it takes," she admitted.
"That sounds like a very lonely life."
"Yeah, well it's my life. I can do what I want with it."
Her words were meant to be gentle, but they came out slightly bitter and acidic. She saw the way he flinched back from her and she wanted to reach out and say she didn't mean it. Ask him to start over with her. They could talk. Maybe she could tell him-
But no, that was a dumb idea.
"Of course," was his simple reply. But within the two simple words was wrapped a sliver of hurt and the sound of walls being raised again between the two.
"How about dinner?" he asked with a smile.
He'd given up.
She felt relief like a weight from her shoulders. She knew he would if she pushed hard enough, because that's what Emma Swan was good at - pushing people away.
Nodding, she gave her approval.
Not allowing herself to dwell on the stinging regret which lingered in her mind.
Nine years and four months earlier
"Emma, are you sure you want this? It's not too late to change your mind."
The pen in her hand was shaking, the tears in her eyes were blurring her vision.
"Yes. I want it. I can't be a mother. I don't know where his father is- I can't bring a child into a life like this."
"But you'll be out in a month, Emma. Then you can start anew. With your son."
A son. He looked so much like Neal. She couldn't bear to look at his face.
The face of the man who had abandoned her. Left her in an apartment laden with stolen goods. Left her to be sentenced as an accessory as he ran away to God knows where…
"No. I can't. Please, please, just make sure he gets a good home,"she whispered as she signed her name, the letters blurring a little as a tear dropped onto the paper.
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