A/N: For those who waited long for the kiss, here is more of and-then-some...

Enjoy ; )

Chapter 25:

A New Chapter

The next morning…

Killian woke her up twice the next morning. Once to see her 'flushed' in the morning light (he was quite a bit more vocal and filthily eloquent this time around), and the other to feed her breakfast in bed, which was then followed by his having her for his dessert.

Not that she minded any of it – the pleasant awakenings, the delicious waffles, or her being on the menu. In fact, with the repeat performances, she could tell Giselle that he sometimes did indeed use his hook. He almost used any excuse to play with it. And after the third time, he was quite the gentleman, helping her clean-up, which was considerate of him as he was the reason she was sticky with syrup in the first place.

While he was rubbing her breasts with a warm wet cloth, she sat on his lap and glanced lazily around the room, enjoying the sensation to its fullest. Up until the point that she saw the time, that is.

Jerking upright, she tried to disentangle herself from him, saying, "I'm going to be late."

He stopped her though, tightening his arms around her and huskily whispering into her ear, "Stay."

Oh, how she wanted to. His warm breath on her neck sent shivers, of the good variety, up her spine. Leaning back into his solid chest, she replied reluctantly, "I can't. Want to, but I – " She jerked, gasping in pleasurable-pain/painful pleasure, as he pinched her sensitive nipples while simultaneously biting on her neck. "But I can't. I have a-a-appoint-ments."

She wanted to lay in bed all day with him. His bed had the right firmness and plushness. His sheets, the perfect ratio of heavenly comfort and sinful silkiness, and he, well, Killian had the right everything for a lover – tenderness, confidence, attentiveness, creativity, boldness, wickedness, heat, passion, patience, stamina, strength, length, girth, clever use of fingers, tongue, hook, rings and scruff…

"With whom?" he asked absentmindedly, clearly not caring, as he began to use the rag for more than just cleaning. "Cancel them."

Because she did care even though she really didn't want to in that moment, she grabbed his wrist to stop him and answered, "Giselle and Archie."

At this, Killian stopped what he was doing and flopped back, removing himself (and herself) from temptation, wisely realizing that she couldn't cancel on either of them. One didn't cancel on the hair stylist, because it was – well, Giselle. And Tawny needed to see Dr. Hopper.

Her appointment with her friend was for a pedicure. She was getting as many of those as possible before she went to the Land of Hard-on-Feet. She was seeing the Cricket, because she didn't want to be jumping at ghosts, especially ugly ones like Taggart, anymore.

So far, her sessions with Archie these past few weeks had proven helpful. Talking with someone who wouldn't feel guilty for 'not being there' was quite therapeutic. But her first nightmare free night had been last night. If she wasn't so emotionally entangled with Jones and dead set on keeping him all to herself, she would totally recommend the pirate as a sleep aid.

Getting off his lap, she grabbed the nearest articles of clothing and began getting hastily dressed.

She hated that she was leaving like this. It felt like the end of a one night stand, and she didn't want it to be like that. Her night with Killian hadn't been casual, not to her.

When she was as decent as she was gonna get, she stalked towards the bed and pulled him up for a hot, wet, and lingering I'll-see-you-later kiss, which he fervently returned.

Eventually, she pulled away, and as she did so, he chuckled wheezily, "You're wearing my shirt, Tawny-love."

Feeling quite powerful at rendering her pirate short of breath, she pushed away from him and sashayed to the doorway, in her yoga pants and his overly-large-on-her button-up shirt. She paused there to glance back, and with a smirk and a wink, she taunted, "All magic comes with a price, Jones-love."

Several unflattering names were called after her, as she (reluctantly) continued on her merry way.

~0~

Killian did his level best to keep busy that day.

He did everything he could to not think of her…or her soft creamy skin…or the taste of her honey and vanilla lips… or her pert and delectable breasts…or her breathy gasps…or her tight…

He did his level best, but it proved to be quite difficult. His time with her had been unexpected. She had been unexpected, but the good kind. Their tryst had indeed been magical.

His Tawny-lass was quite the treasure find. He had known she was a beautiful woman. He had known she was a kind, caring woman. He had known she was pert, sassy, feisty, minx. It had been a delight to discover that all of those qualities had translated into her lovemaking.

And her parting shot was not helping matters, nor was the image of her wearing his shirt. It set his primal possessive pirate instincts at full sail.

Before having lunch with Henry and Bae, he did miscellaneous errands to keep himself occupied, only having to re-do basic knots three times. He was cursing up a storm after the third time, when Tink wandered onto his ship.

"So, Hook, you finally slept with her."

"Hello, to you too," he greeted his intruder, noting the belligerent stance of the pixie– hands stuffed in pockets, pursed lips, narrowed eyes. "And did your fairy-senses tell you that or is the town's grapevine just that good?"

Ignoring his query, she stated, "I half expected you to have had her on her back long before this."

His one good hand clenched into a fist, as he had the sudden urge to play pin-the-pixie. "Only half?" was his ground out retort.

She shrugged, unapologetic for her implied accusation. He knew Tink didn't have the greatest opinion of him, but it hurt nonetheless to find out she thought he was that low that he would treat his lass that way.

"Well, Tink, I may not have very many rules that I live by, but one of them – and it is one that has kept me alive on numerous occasions over the centuries – is that I don't sleep with people whom I do business with." At her disbelieving look, he added, "I may with the lady after it is done, but not during. Sex tends to muddy the waters and cloud judgment."

"So she's no longer your 'business associate'?"

"No, she was my friend," he corrected. "Another personal guideline of mine is not to sleep with those."

"And so that offer you made me when Emma first picked Neal, and then all those other women in that month after?"

He didn't like where this conversation was going. He was more than a bit ashamed at the number of women he had used for carnal comfort after Swan's rejection. The only good that had come of that phase was learning of modern sexual practices, things like condoms.

He could taunt the fairy as he wished to, but he did not think that would make her go away fast enough, so he settled for honesty. Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, he admitted, "My play for you was a drunken mistake. I am grateful to you for resisting my charms and preventing me from even making a bigger mistake and violating my own code. Your wrath is one that I wish to avoid."

And then he looked up and stared directly into her gaze, as he clarified his speech's key point, "But Tawny was my friend. I valued her trust, something that I have little experienced in a very long time, and I did not want to jeopardize it at any cost."

"But she's not your friend now?" the fairy's brow wrinkled quizzically.

"She's more."

And then the meddlesome creature finally got to the point that brought her onto his ship. Dropping all pretense, she challenged softly, "But does she know that?"

~0~

After Tink left, his mood had been quite foul, because he didn't know how to answer her question. It briefly brightened when Henry, Bae, and he went sailing around the bay for the day, and then again when Tawny opened her apartment door and greeted him with:

"Hello, sailor."

And there his golden siren stood, answering her door in 'cut-off shorts' that displayed her glorious legs and that just barely peeked out from underneath his shirt.

His shirt, which was buttoned like he would have, meaning he could see quite plainly that she was obviously not wearing any undergarments beneath.

Leaning against the doorway, he noted (quite coherently), "You have something of mine."

She grinned and then brushed her nails tantalizingly against the edge of his shirt, near the button which he greatly wished would come undone, saying with a smirk, "I might. But I have a strict no-refund, no-return policy, so that's rather a moot point."

"That's a pirate policy, and you're no pirate, love," he declared as he entered her apartment, backing her against her chair.

"Mhmm…" she murmured in faux thoughtfulness, cocking her hip against the chair and toying with her hair, "You, Captain Jones, could follow pirate tradition and plunder and pillage; the prize – the prize being this shirt, of course, or…"

He arched his eyebrow challengingly, even while leering at her, "Or?"

"You can forfeit the shirt for the prize of seeing me in... nothing but."

Before he could comment on her daring offer, off went her shorts and then off she went, sprinting for her room, giving him a tantalizing peek at red lacy bits.

He had fully intended to talk to the lass, to have an honest conversation about his intentions towards her before initiating a second evening of amorous activity.

But who was he to deny a lady's wishes?

~0~

Sometime later…

Tawny rolled off of Killian and declared in breathless awe, "Fuck. That was…"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

"Beg pardon?" her lover asked, sounding quite miffed.

Chuckling, she explained, "Not shit. Definitely not shit, but until more adequate vocabulary returns…guh."

"That good, huh?" the man inquired. Without even taking her gaze from the ceiling, she knew he was smirking. She could hear it. Smug bastard.

It had been that good. So good that she could not summon up the energy to deflate his rapidly swelling head – er, ego – like she normally would have. Instead, she merely reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers as she basked in the afterglow and reveled in the luxurious comfort of her bed.

It was not how she intended this evening to go. But she had had such a rush of feminine power and such a need for him, for his touch, for this, for fun, that upon seeing him, she had decided that their talk – The Talk – could wait. She was so tired of doing what she ought to do. And judging by how fast he had been on her heels, Killian Jones hadn't minded one bit.

They lay there contentedly for several minutes, recovering and enjoying companionable silence; but then her mind began to drift, and inevitably it drifted toward the topic that she had originally intended for them to discuss – them.

"Killian?"

"The answer's yes, kitten," he chuckled, inexplicably.

"Yes?" she asked hesitantly, very much confused. She didn't recall asking him a question. But then again, she might have while she had been blissed out of her mind. She was known to babble incoherently at times like those.

"Yes, you can keep the shirt. You were very… persuasive," was his droll response.

She snorted in amusement, but had no rejoinder. She was off her game. Conflicted. She wanted to keep the mood light, but her anxiety and insecurities were rising, choking her.

Apparently his were too, because in a complete change of mood, he asked somberly, "What are we doing, love?"

'We're lying here, enjoying each other's company.'

'We're doing what we should have been doing since you first broke into my apartment.'

'We're hooking up, Hook, a.k.a. mating, mate.'

'I don't know what you're doing, but I – '

Before she could formulate an answer, flippant or otherwise, he rolled over to face her and elaborated, "Are we friends who just happen to be having a right good romp in the sheets, or are we more?"

'Okay…so apparently The Talk was here.'

Swallowing the rising bile, she croaked out past her suddenly dry throat, "We're more."

In for a penny…

Turning over onto her side, she took his hand and placed it over her heart, confessing, "If I could take out my own heart and give it to someone, I would give it to you. I trust you, like I have never trusted anyone else, to keep it safe, to cherish it."

At her words, Killian's eyes widened and his blue irises swirled with emotion, as he confessed, "And I, you, lass. No one since Milah can claim that."

At hearing him say that last part, she took petty satisfaction that she had finally one-upped Swan. She didn't voice this of course. Instead she rocked forward and kissed his chest, right over the precious organ in question.

With a moan of deep appreciation (she could feel his chest rumble), he dipped down to greedily capture her mouth with his.

And thus, their pact of mutual heart-treasuring was sealed.

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~0~

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And the rest of their days were filled with fencing, fighting…giants, monsters…chases, escapes… true love, miracles…golden adventures all around.

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~0~

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For a sneak preview of the next adventure, stay tuned for this tale's bonus chapter.