The smut is back...
Stark realization hit her the moment she stepped out the door.
What the hell was she doing?
Her heart was a boulder in her chest; heavy and solid, pressing painfully against her ribs as vice-like tightness squeezed her lungs. Through the veil of her eyelids, the harsh lights of the corridor flickered - seemingly as though in perennial judgement of her.
Emma, they whispered, you dirty, pretty thing. Never letting anyone in. So cold. So lonely…
Forcing aching breaths down her throat, she turned and dipped her head against the doorframe. A headache was forming between her eyes.
She always did this. Every damn time something positive appeared in her life she pushed it away and ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction.
Regret began to trickle through her body, like water through rock - slowly and surely filtering into every fiber of her being. Her shoulders sagged, the tension that strung across them breaking harshly like a snapped piece of wire.
It was all too much.
Life for Emma Swan had been simple until he came along and made her think and consider that things could be different. Maybe. That time when all she wanted was enough money in her pocket to move back East and forget this place seemed so long ego - yet it had been less than a week.
Cursing him, she wished he had never come into the club. Never offered her a drink. Never asked for a dance. Never offered something more.
But he had, and now her head hurt and she wished she could take back everything she had just said and walk back in there and let him hold her in his arms and make her feel something.
Because she was realizing that for the first time since him, she had lowered the walls she had built to protect herself - for the briefest of moments - and let someone in. And it had felt scary and painful but she couldn't deny it felt good, too.
Like an addict craving a fix she wanted more. She could gloss over the fact he had held her and whispered another woman's name because the way she felt when he ran his hands over her skin and pressed his mouth against hers was like she was on fire: alive, really alive. All senses sparking at once.
All strength began to leave her limbs and she started to feel cold and weak. The fever in her had gone and only Emma was left.
Just then, the door swung open.
Surprised, she lifted her head and tilted it to her left.
Her eyes landed on his chest - it was rising and falling in a quick rhythm.
A high pitched buzzing began to echo in her ears.
Slowly, she rolled her gaze up his chest - lingering on his collar bones, then the scruff of his neck, that sharp line where the dark stubble ended abruptly and trailed up to his hair where her eyes lingered on the artful disarray that sleep had arranged it into.
She couldn't look at his face.
Her lower lip began to tremble.
He didn't want her to go.
Her breathing hitched and wavered.
"Don't go."
And there they were. The words that she didn't know she wanted.
"I..." she began. But the words died on her lips.
Brow pressed into furrows, she let herself look into his eyes and drown in their blue depths. The edges of his lids turned down slightly, as if he were in pain.
Had she caused this? Did she really affect him? Did the things she said in a fit of pique make him look at her like that?
"Stay."
The word was softly spoken, but laced with an undercurrent of expression that speared her straight through the center of her chest.
"Why?" was all she could ask, her voice cracking, a pained smile stretching over her lips.
Silently he took a step into the hallway and she turned to face him. His hands swept over the sides of her face, easing back her hair and settling with his fingers tucked behind her ears and his thumbs arched over the shell of each ear. Such a simple gesture, but her heart ached.
Then his forehead dropped to rest on her own, and warmth flashed down her body.
He nudged his nose against hers, she could feel the heat from his breath dancing over her skin and a tingle tumbled down her spine.
"Because I don't want you to go."
Gingerly, she lifted her hands and placed her palms flat against his bare chest. He raised his head and she slipped easily against him. She nestled into his arms - wrapped tight around her - and let herself relax.
Tiredness overwhelmed and she yawned softly.
"Come on," he whispered, softly kissing her forehead and scooping her up in his arms.
The world was a haze as he carried her back into the apartment.
Her body relaxed: each muscle loosening and her bones stretching against him while he cradled her to his chest and she hummed in satisfaction.
Those soft lips of his brushed against her forehead - bright flashes of cool heat prickled her skin and she dug her fingers tighter around his neck: holding on for dear life. She was scared to let go in case this was her imagination and she jumped to the worst conclusion, that Killian was just like every other guy who saw her just for one thing.
"Relax," he whispered as he sank to sit on the bed with her in his lap. She hadn't realized she was beginning to tense up again.
Releasing those thoughts, she looked at him and gazed up into his disarming blue eyes, drowning in their depths. Enchanted, she felt she could spend hours just exploring them and never decipher their meaning.
Just then she wanted to ask him:
What was going on?
What were they?
What did this mean?
Yet instead of talking she smiled. Brightly, happily: like she hadn't smiled in years and it felt good.
Reciprocating, he quickly leaned down and she pressed her mouth to his, melting into the kiss like this was where she belonged. Warm and light, his fingers began to thread into her hair, whilst his other hand pulled her closer to his chest and she murmured into his mouth.
"Killian…"
"Shhhh," he whispered.
She balled her fists whilst nudging her chin against her shoulder in a nervous gesture; all the while he held her so tight she almost couldn't breathe. She could feel herself pulling away: scared.
"But what..."
Her words were stopped short with another kiss. One that said let's think about this later. Let's just be in this moment.
For a second she hesitated, fear holding her back until something flicked inside her, like a switch, and the doubts were gone.
Later, she told herself, you need this.
Effortlessly, he rolled her body down to the bed, never parting from his kiss, the hand at her waist pulling at her shirt and slipping against the skin of her stomach until she cooed in pleasure at his gentle, wanting touch. He touched her like she was precious and unique.
Then it flashed before her. That night. When he thought she was her.
"Wait," she panted, hand grabbing his shoulder, a furrow emerging between her eyes, "I don't want to be - I'm not- her."
The words failed her, but the understanding glint in his eyes was instantaneous. "Emma…" He pressed his eyes closed for a second. The way his face tensed in pain and regret was clear for her to see. She reached up and drifted her thumb over his eyelids and across this brow until the edges of his lips curled upwards.
"Okay," she replied to his unspoken statement. Knowing that this moment was not the time and that was something for later.
His breathing came in short breaths.
Later. That was for later…
And now was … now.
Her thumb moved to slide over his lips and he dipped his head closer to hers.
"Kiss me?" she asked. Quietly. Plainly. No expectations or demands, just a simple request - a want that needed to be filled and he was the only one who could.
As he pressed his lips to hers, she was toeing off her shoes and letting his kisses drift her away and make everything fade into darkness yet light at the same time. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched up into him. Close. She wanted to be close.
Clawing at her shirt, she pulled the fabric to expose her skin and he knew what she wanted. Skin on skin. Warm flesh touching.
He peeled the material away then she pressed her chest to his until he lay her back down and their eyes met: his hips gently rocking and his fingers trailing over the bare, goose pimpled skin of her arm.
"What are we doing?" she asked. Really, not knowing - not expecting an answer.
Sliding his arms under her waist, he hitched her closer. "Honestly?" he asked, as she widened her eyes, "I don't know."
A smiling kiss pulled him to her.
She didn't know what this was and neither did he. Somehow - that made this okay.
For now anyway.
Killian layered soft kisses over her face, an innocent distraction while his hand worked it's way under her bra and she hummed at his warm touch and rough skin. "What do you want?" he whispered into her ear. His thumb brushed over a nipple and desire sparked through her.
"You," she replied.
It slipped from her lips before she had time to think and the truth was undeniable. Yes she wanted him. So much. It was a craving. She wondered if he understood.
Fingers worked at the button of her jeans and slipped down the stiff zip of her fly. Gliding over the thin lace edge of her panties she gasped, her stomach muscles clenching as he got closer to where she needed him. Which was crazy - he had touched her more intimately than that before. But this time felt different her heart whispered.
Hovering a few inches above her face, watching her reaction as he slowly pressed down her underwear, his fingers circling the light layer of hair, gently dipping into her warmth as her mouth formed a soft 'O'.
The veil of tension over her body began to tear as he touched her. Slowly and cautiously circling her damp heat - keeping his gaze locked on her, watching her responses.
She ground her hips into the bed as he worked his way deeper. Peppering his movements with vague whispers and fingers caressing her cheek. Her hands pressed her jeans down as he worked.
Soft breaths danced over her face. He was so close that with a tilt of her head she could touch his lips. He nudged his face against hers and she flushed hot.
"Oh Emma…" he sighed, his lips reaching down, his teeth grasping her lower lip and rolling it hard enough to be just on the edge of pleasure and pain. His thumb was circling her clit and his fingers curving to that one spot which made her vision darken and glower with bright white sparks. She tried vainly to fight the overwhelming feeling he was eliciting - clawing at the walls and reaching for lucidity until a shot of pleasure dashed through her and she came with a soft sob at his neck.
Dampness rolled down on her cheeks.
She was crying? When did that happen?
Before she had time to think, he was kissing away the tears, soaking up the salty trails with his lips whilst she hugged her arms around his waist.
"We can stop. Sleep."
But she didn't want that.
Gently she pushed his shoulders, he moved to her side. She stood, kicking off her jeans, nudging herself between his legs that hung over the side of the bed as he laid back and watched her move.
She paused. Letting her eyes roam his body. The sharp bones of his hips that rose above the cotton of his pants, the strong, rounded shoulders that reached up to an elegant, yet masculine, neck. She gazed at the broad plane of his chest - its light layer of hair and lean muscles, the silver chain around his neck and the slow rise and fall as his lungs filled. By the time she reached his face, she was balling her hair in her hands, piling it on top of her head, biting her lip as doubt flickered.
"I mean it, we can..."
She stopped him by grabbing his arm so he was sat upright and dragging his face to meet hers. She released her hair and it tumbled like a cloak around them. Her fingers were in his thick, dark locks while his hands slid up her back, unhooking her bra. Kissing and tearing at each other - a tangle of lips and hands. His tongue running down her chest, cherishing her bare breasts, a hand slipping under her panties and cupping her buttocks as her lips rested on his forehead in heavy, moist breaths.
Something was awakening inside her. She felt free - wild even. No expectations. No promises. No regrets. She was going to grab this moment and not let go.
His lips peeled away from her skin and she gestured for him to stand. Keeping eye contact while she slipped down his pants, sinking to her knees and effortlessly taking his hardness in her hands.
"You don't..."
She stopped him with a glance, running her tongue over his tip, "I want to."
And she did. His heavy weight in her hands was warm and hard, yet soft like silk. She lavished him with her tongue first, running circles that elicited soft little moans. Her heart soared at the power. She wanted to show him what he meant to her. How she felt.
Gentle teeth danced over him as she sank him deeper until he was touching the back of her throat and she began to bob her head. The way he began to rock his hips towards her sent a shiver of pleasure and excitement through her body. He tasted so good on her tongue - like man and sex and desire. She reached a hand down to touch herself as she became engrossed in her task. Dipping, twirling, applying just the right amount of pressure that had him gasping.
"Bloody hell. Stop..."
He was panting. When she looked up, his eyes were dark, he pulled her onto her feet and tugged on her shoulders steering them backwards... a second later she was pressed against the bathroom door, large hands roughly clawing at her body, his mouth nipping at her skin. The cool surface of the door made her spine tingle and she was barely aware of him pulling down her underwear as she became lost in the moment.
He was hitching one leg around his hip, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her neck, she could feel his tip just at her entrance – rounded, firm and teasing. Pivoting her hips, she coated him in her arousal and he growled against her.
"Are you sure?"
She responded by tightening her arms around his neck, pulling his hips closer whilst raising her other leg until she sank down on him.
"Oh Killian," she moaned, relishing every inch of intimate contact as they joined together.
"Say my name again," he begged, every so slightly rocking his hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he held her tight pressed against the door.
"Killian," she whispered into his ear. He swore softly, increasing his speed, circling into her. She wanted more pushing herself tighter against him, melding them together.
"Again," he whined. His brow was breaking out in a sweat. The dampness where their bodies joined was so delightfully fluid she wanted to stay in this moment forever - the way he was stretching her, achingly, filling her.
She jolted her hips, digging her nails into his back. "Killian," she panted, chanting it almost like a prayer, "Killian, Killian."
Each word was louder than the last. Each one urged him faster. She was slipping against the door and he dug his knees forward to support them, so each thrust was pressing her harder against it until she felt the small bones of her spine bruising as he pushed into her.
"Tell me how it feels."
In that moment she couldn't deny him anything.
"Burning, fire, aching - oh aching so good Killian. Take me. Take me away, please..."
Then he was puling her up and a second later she was on the soft bed again. He reached over her, a hand on each side, plunging deeper as she felt herself float away.
"God Emma, do you know how much I love this? You feel so bloody good. I knew you were different, the first time I saw you, I knew..."
His words ended with a groan whilst he sank to his forearms. She wrapped her fingers in his chain, pulling his forehead to hers. His thrusts rapid, urgent, desperate. Eyes locked, each became mute, watching the other as release unfolded and she came around him just a second before he fell apart into a boneless heap on her body.
Silent, shaky breaths filled the air. Her fingers lazily traced over the skin of his back as she stared at the bare white ceiling. Her mind was numb and empty - emptied by him and them and whatever was going on.
Because she still wasn't sure - in fact she was probably further away from knowing than ever.
So she simply kissed his forehead and eased her way under the sheets, wordlessly he followed, pulling her into his arms and cradling her close and they both fell asleep as the sun begun to rise.
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