"Did you think you could slip away from my stand-in so easily, Princess?"

The voice, dark and authoritative, broke the peace of the clearing and Emma startled, nearly dropping her basket of wildflowers. She looked up with what she hoped was an appropriate amount of surprise in the event he'd brought company along to search for the oft-wayward princess yet again, her face betraying none of the elation she felt inside when she saw he was alone.

Given the task of ensuring Princess Emma's safety and security at all hours, Killian Jones of the Knights of Misthaven had quickly discovered why his predecessors had all but begged the crown for a different appointment. She was prone to disappearing acts, and this wasn't the first time he'd found her miles from the castle, unaccompanied, completely safe and, by the looks of it, wholly unbothered.

Unnaturally broad in armor, her father's chief cavalier stood before her after fourteen days gone on a peacekeeping mission, irritation radiating off of his head-to-toe regalia of servitude that made him more imposing than usual.

"So it would seem, Sir Killian."

Dragging his helmet off, Killian held it at his side, grateful to be rid of the heavy burden and surveyed his princess. Lips pinked and cheeks rouged, Emma lifted her chin slightly in his direction, a rare display of haughtiness. She looked every inch the embodiment of royalty in a furred cloak and richly layered fabrics, hair silken thanks to the efforts of the nightly brushing by a handmaiden.

Emma returned to her daffodils, seeking out the heartiest of stems and relishing their crisp snap under her fingertips. She moved about freely, the drag of her skirts proving more cumbersome as she moved to the edges of the wild flowerbeds, close to the dense cover of trees. Distracted by the task of recklessly tearing her underskirt when it became stuck on a branch after a messy attempt to step over a fallen log, she didn't hear him come up behind her until it was too late.

Straightening just in time to feel the hard, warm lines of him, divested of armor, against her back, Emma's breath caught as a hand came around and toyed with the jeweled brooch holding her cape in place before long fingers curled around her neck.

"It took longer to find you this time, love." This time his tone was softer but no less commanding and it made her knees tremble, as did the light press of his fingers at her throat. "A man could go mad with want."

And mad for her he was. She was his one weakness, an unyielding vice of an otherwise ascetic man. Regimented, disciplined and married to his duties to king and country, Killian had spent years foregoing the pleasures that brought the fellows in his knighthood to their knees: women, drink, the seeking of riches. It was his dedication to the kingdom that earned him the spot outside Princess Emma's bedchamber door and the responsibility to remain her sworn protector.

It was she for whom he risked it all.

The dress Emma had chosen that morning showed no hint of skin, even when she unfastened the brooch and let cream colored fur slip off her shoulders and tumble to the forest floor, and Killian drank in what little he could reach standing behind her. He licked and nipped at the spot below her ear, teeth sinking into tender, lily-white flesh with more force than intended when she reached back, cupping him through his uniform trousers.

"Easy, tiger." The words teased as much as Emma's stroking fingers and she giggled when his hips canted forward seeking more of her touch.

"My apologies," he breathed into her ear with no hint of actual penance, swiping golden strands away to survey the damage, closing his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks when there was none; there could be no lingering signs of their illicit affair. Killian turned Emma, pressing into her bodily against a tree, nose brushing hers just before he kissed her thoroughly and deeply until she was gasping for air. "Although under different circumstances, I can't say I'd be sorry. I'd mark every inch of you as mine. Would you like that, Princess? A little pain with your pleasure?"

The question was rhetorical. Time was never on their side, even miles from the castle, and stolen moments were often rushed. It was during a quick tryst in her bedchambers months before under the shadow of night where an overly eager Killian couldn't untangle his hand from her hair quick enough to avoid inadvertently pulling on it. The sound she made gave him pause and inspiration for a second quick tug, his desire to please her warring with his sense of good form. All of his hesitations had melted away since, unable to give Emma anything less than her heart's desire, even if it was to fulfill her whispered wishes for him to fuck her, harder, more please, again, his name gracing her lips as she fell apart around him.

Less inhibited now, Killian made quick work of lifting Emma's skirts, nimble fingers dancing over the smooth skin of her thighs just above the ribbons holding up her stockings. She cupped his chin, forcing him to look her in the eyes, appearing to anticipate what he'd do next. He didn't think he disappointed, either in the fingers that moved to where she was wet and wanting or his reaction to finding her completely bare.

"You'll be the death of me, Emma. Leaving the castle without so much as a stitch of clothing under your gown," he growled, slipping a finger inside and curling it, moving in shallow thrusts until her eyes closed and her head snapped back against the tree. He watched her face, the fluttering of her lashes and the way she bit her lip, wishing for the millionth time he could lay her down on a bed – their bed, if he was allowing himself to dream – and take his time worshipping her.

Neither their circumstances nor her patience lent themselves to that scenario.

He protested when she took his wrist, pulling his hand away from her and switching their positions, sinking onto a bed of fallen leaves in front of him. Emma knew that of all the intimate acts they shared, taking him into her mouth to lick and lave caused him the most guilt. It's whore's work he'd said the first time, and that no princess should be on her knees in front of a member of the king's court. She'd laughed at his unintended joke and made him blush further by wrapping her lips around his cock, taking him in deeply, his protests dying before they could catch any more air.

It was easier to watch - now that he knew she loved giving nearly as much as he loved receiving - as Emma unfastened his trousers, pulling his thickened, heavy cock out. Licking the full length of the underside, she looked up at him expectantly, a challenge in her eyes. She'd been working on wearing him down, chipping away at his natural, bone-deep restraint and Killian smiled down at her wickedly before tangling his hands in her hair and giving an experimental thrust with his generous length. A few strokes of her fist and Emma's hands went behind her back, leaving him to take what he (and she) both wanted.

"That's it, princess. As much as you can handle down that pretty throat of yours." Killian rocked into her, the warm, wet slide of her mouth around him almost more than he could take after half a month's time outside the kingdom and in the company of men. He knew he was bordering on carelessness as his hips moved quickly, a near-rote apology on the tip of his tongue at his boldness until he saw Emma's hand slip between her thighs. His eyes darted between her face and the near-hidden hand, fingers tightening on the golden strands as he raced far too near to the precipice thanks to the tandem work of touch and visual.

Killian abruptly pulled himself out of her mouth and pulled Emma to her feet, bringing her slick fingertips to his mouth, lightly kissing them before swirling his tongue around to taste. She was divine, and he toyed with the idea of sneaking into her chambers that night to have his fill as Emma's tongue worked its own magic on his earlobe.

"How do you want me, Sir Killian?" she whispered, reaching down with one hand to stroke his cock again, a flick of her wrist earning her a grunt as she scraped her teeth against his neck and down to the juncture of his shoulder where she sucked lightly. It was a far contrast to the force she'd bestowed upon his inner thigh just hours before his cavalry had suited up and rode out a week before, leaving a purple bruise just hours before he suited up and left a fortnight ago.

"However you'll have me, Princess Emma."

Turning from him, she bent at the waist, helping Killian lift her skirts. They'd long discovered that a muddied dress was one thing, but convincing the queen Emma had tripped in the forest and ended up with a multitude of leaves and small sticks tangled in her hair was entirely another. Perhaps not the most romantic of positions, but it enabled him to slip in and out of her quickly and at an angle that made the most of the waning time they had together.

The drag of him was exquisite and Emma fought to keep her voice from echoing through the forest until Killian drew her up, back against his chest, and slipped a hand over her mouth. His other hand wandered, finding her breast to be unfettered by a corset and he growled into her ear as he fucked her harder, squeezing the bouncing flesh in his palm.

"We don't have much time, love." He spread the fingers that had been keeping her quiet across her upper chest, thumb and fingertips brushing against her collarbones. "Tell me what you need."

"Your touch. Here." Emma took his forearm and guided him, placing her fingertips over his as they rubbed her clit together.

"Anything else?"

"You, Killian. Just you."

This time he let her lean forward against the tree, burying her face in the crook of her elbow as Killian picked up speed, hand slipping off his as the pressure started to build, the angle and depth of his thrusts almost more than she could take. As she began to clamp down on his cock, he pinched her clit and Emma came with a muffled scream of his name. A few more thrusts and Killian followed her over the edge, his own shout louder and less controlled than he'd intended and as they came down from their highs, he heard the unmistakable sound of the royal trumpet in the distance.

Apparently he wasn't he only one who'd noticed the princess had gone missing.

They scrambled to right themselves, Emma picking up her cape and refastening the heavy fur as Killian stuffed himself into his pants and pulled his armor back over his head. The fear of getting caught was real and justifiable, and he would have been completely overwhelmed by it had he not caught her watching his hands smooth the front of his trousers in an attempt to hide his still-slightly engorged length with interest.

He shook his head at his insatiable princess, momentarily distracted. When Emma crashed to the ground wailing, he was caught off guard and moved to kneel by her side just as the palace riders reached the edge of the clearing.

"Sir Killian, you found me! I'm afraid I wandered too far this time and in my haste to return to the castle, I tripped over that log." She gestured as part of the ruse and Killian turned to see the basket of daffodils overturned, flowers strewn on the ground. A young squire was valiantly attempting to scoop them up and Emma thanked him profusely for his efforts as she attempted to get up and promptly fell once more, feigning a twisted ankle.

The riders rushed to aid of knight and princess, averting their eyes at the sight of her underskirt torn just enough to reveal an indecent amount of ankle. Killian took the opportunity to scoop Emma up in his arms and carry her across the clearing to his horse, telling her loudly enough for everyone to hear that if she rode sidesaddle, he'd walk the horse back to the castle.

"I'm afraid I may have bumped my head. Would you be so kind as to ride with me, Sir Killian? So that I have something to lean against should I become woozy?"

Jaw clenching, he agreed, swinging up into the saddle and moving back to leave space for Emma, reaching to help the rider who'd lifted her up. In this position, Killian would have to all but hold her in his arms in order to control the reigns and as they started to ride, she collapsed against his chest, playing the part of the injured and overwhelmed princess. He didn't miss how tightly she had pressed her backside against him and he caught her imperceptibly rolling her hips, making him half-hard once more with none of their companions any the wiser.

"You're impossible," he whispered.

Emma answered him so softly that Killian thought he'd misheard, her ear pressed to his beating heart.

"And you love me for it."