Chapter 4

Best behavior didn't begin to describe the next three months of Killian's life. If the best revenge is living well, he figured the best way to atone for his drunken asshole discretions was to get his shit together.

He threw himself into his work when he was in the city, honoring his brother's legacy. Instead of booze-soaked, lost weekends at his cabin, Killian found grounding solace in hiking the surrounding woods and kayaking the waters. The sagging front porch was fixed, a ripped screen replaced, fresh paint adorned the kitchen, and the shower walls had been switched out from 1967 avocado green to more modern white beveled subway tiles. Not necessarily backbreaking labor, but it provided Killian with two things he hadn't realized were missing from his life outside of his job—focus and pride.

Critically examining the evenness of his grout job in one of the corners as he let warm water cascade down his back, Killian willed himself to not think of the most difficult aspect of his newfound discipline - staying away from Storybrooke on the many long rides he took on his motorcycle.

As per usual, he failed.

Every fiber of his being was drawn toward the town and Emma Swan and he had to talk himself out of bringing her hot chocolate laced with cinnamon on the chillier nights, or accidentally-on-purpose running into her under the guise of looking through the town's antique store and pawn shop for treasures and oddities with which to furnish his cabin.

The longing Killian felt to be in her presence—to earn her forgiveness and favor—was constant. It unnerved him and he found it easier to embrace his more carnal interests, imagining how mind-blowing sex with Emma would be when alone with his thoughts and his hand.

The fantasies of his in which she'd starred were varied. They ranged from near-chaste kisses in front of a fire (not a part of his usual repertoire) to enthusiastic fucking on any and all available surfaces (how his fleeting encounters usually went down.)

Bracing one hand against the wall, he slid the other down between his legs where his cock was already heavy with anticipation of the daily routine. He thought of tangling long blonde hair in his fingers, pink lips gliding over his length, tongue swirling around the head. Whatever she couldn't fit in her mouth was sliding through her fingers, slowly at first but gaining speed as green eyes refused to break contact with his.

"Yes, darling, just like that. I want you to swallow every inch of me."

Killian picked up the pace from slow, torturous pulling to fast, rhythmic stroking. The wet smacking sound thundered in the bathroom and mixed with whispered oaths but it still wasn't enough. Water hit his torso, rivulets streaming through his chest hair as he pushed off the wall and bent his knees, fucking his cock into his fist.

"Yes, love. More. I want to feel your throat close around me."

His hips flexed frantically, mimicking the way he'd take control, taking her open mouth until her nose rhythmically pressed against his abdomen. Feeling the tug of a fast-approaching orgasm, his words turned filthy.

"Where do you want me to come, lass? Will you swallow every drop? Or shall I paint that pretty face?"

Pulling his hips back, Killian pounded his, imagining Emma waiting on her knees, a finger circling her clit as he jacked himself over her. With a roar he came, aiming downward as he wrung every last bit of pleasure he could from the vision in his head.

He cursed under his breath, vexed that once again he'd jumped the gun, indulging in self-gratification before bothering with soap or shampoo. On shaky legs, he made quick work of washing and stepped out of the shower onto the newly acquired gel mat. A brisk rubdown with a towel followed and once he secured it neatly around his waist, Killian stepped to the sink and took stock in the mirror:

Eyes a little glassy, but clear. Cheeks flushed, but shaved smooth. His beard had become unruly in the month or so before the anniversary of Liam's death and it (along with an overly shaggy mane) had been one of the first things to go when he vowed to make some changes. He maintained a level of well-kept scruff and put just enough product in his hair to keep one stubborn lock from Superman curling over his forehead.

Killian knew many a woman would (and did) give him a second glance and once upon a time, he encouraged them to look (and touch.) Maybe it was the lasting euphoria from an explosive orgasm, but the idea of leaving casual sex behind in favor of something more meaningful was less of a turn off than it had been at one time.

Shaking his head, Killian completed the rest of his bathroom routine and got dressed; dark jeans and a plaid shirt were his standard off duty uniform. Rolling up his sleeves, he decided a sandwich and a nap on the couch were in order—hopefully a dreamless one. It appeared his subconscious was just as interested in bedding Emma Swan as his waking mind, and sleep that didn't leave him hard and wanting upon waking was becoming more elusive.

Killian's cell danced across the coffee table as it rang and he groaned at the ring tone before groggily answering, nearly pitching himself off the couch and onto the floor in the process.

"Locksley, how many times have I told you to stop using department resources to hack my phone and change the bloody ringtone to "The Lion Sleeps Tonight?"

The hearty laugh of his best detective and closest friend boomed in his ear and he held it away from his head six inches until Robin pulled himself together.

"You're only pissed because it took you a day and a half to figure out how to change it back the first time. And I'm going to tell Zelena you referred to her as a department resource again."

Killian's longstanding struggle to adapt to a department-issued Android after a years-long personal love affair with Apple products was the bane of his existence and a source of amusement for his unit.

"Dick," Killian muttered under his breath. He sat up, tucking the phone between cheek and shoulder. "It's my day off, Rob, as you well know. What do you want?"

"Chief Hunter called for all hands on deck. A group of kids from a town a few counties over came to the Discovery Museum for a field trip and one has gone missing. The kid's name is…ah, fuck. I had it here somewhere."

Killian could hear Robin rustling through the shit storm of papers on his desk.

"Anyway, the kid disappeared sometime between lunch and the afternoon free roam. Didn't answer roll call on the bus to come home. Search of the museum and surrounding areas yielded nothing."

Moving through the kitchen, Killian eyed his upturned helmet on the small table in the foyer. It served as somewhat of a fishbowl that held his keys, badge and money clip, and was a permanent fixture on the table alongside his gun. He propped his ass against the front door of the cabin and, pulling on boots as Robin continued.

"The homeroom teacher said there have been some issues with a birth father threatening to go to court for visitation rights. We're treating the disappearance as a possible non-custodial parent abduction."

Putting the phone on speaker and placing it down on the table, Killian shrugged into his shoulder holster, fastening the straps and securing the .45 Glock. He slid on his leather jacket, took everything out of his helmet and slipped it into the inner pocket. Securing the helmet under his arm, he stepped out the door onto a satisfyingly solid porch, locking the heavy slab of pine behind him.

A notoriously ambling walker, Killian's natural saunter toward his bike turned into a brisk jog at what Robin said next.

"Kid is from Storybrooke. The town's sheriff is already here. She said she has some history dealing with the kid's biological father. Could be an asset. And she has a few assets herself, if you know what I'm sayin'."

Be casual, Jones.

"I thought you were banging Regina."

"Well, yeah, but I still have eyes. And that sheriff has this ass-"

Killian interrupted him brusquely.

"I'm on my way."

Breaking the speed limit for the first time in three months as he raced toward Bangor, Killian willed himself to find some chill before he came face to face with Emma Swan once again.