Conversation in the Kitchen

Killian didn't fall asleep right away, too content with feeling her breath brushing over his chest and letting his fingers trail through her silken locks. He hadn't been this content in what seemed forever; just lying in bed with a woman. No pressure, no meetings to attend to, no sessions in the studio, no anything. Here, with Emma in his arms, he was happy.

He did fall asleep eventually, even if it was the middle of the day, waking up to the smell of coffee three hours later and an empty bed, following the scent into the kitchen after donning his jeans.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he rounded the corner, leaning against the doorframe, just watching her stir the scrambled eggs around in the skillet, admiring her decision to only wear a shirt that hardly covered her ass, desire making his cock stand to attention as he watched her wriggle her ass to the sound of the music coming out of the radio.

"Morning," she said softly when he stepped into the kitchen, shooting him a smirk over her shoulder before turning back to her task of stirring the eggs.

"You're just gorgeous, Swan."

He was by her side in the blink of an eye, pulling the spatula out of her hand and pushing the skillet aside before whirling her around and lifting her up on the table. "So gorgeous."

"Killian, what are you ..."

He silenced her by pressing his lips on hers, her mouth opening immediately when he flicked his tongue over her bottom lip, the force of his kiss probably leaving her with beard burns but he just couldn't slow down, and she apparently didn't want him to, kissing him back hungrily.

He was so grateful for having the foresight to push a condom into the pocket of his jeans, so he didn't have to break off the kiss; only needed to shove his pants down and roll the condom over his length, and Emma moaned under his lips when he pushed her panties aside and slipped his fingers through her folds.

"God, you're soaking wet already," he growled, pushing a finger inside her hot sheath.

"Hurry," she moaned as she leaned back on her elbows and opened her legs wider for him.

He slipped his finger out of her and pulled her forward, almost ripping her panties apart as he shoved them down her legs. He needed to be in her right now, and judging by the heated look in her eyes and her nails biting into the skin of his forearms, she needed him with the same desperation he was feeling.

"Fuck," they both groaned simultaneously as he buried himself in her in one swift thrust, and he froze for a moment, staring down at her, splayed out on the table, her eyes greener than usual as she looked up at him.

"I need you to move," she whispered, laying back as she curled her legs around his waist and arched her back. "Now."

As if her words snapped something inside of him, he started to move, taking her hard and fast, her husky voice spurning him on as she breathed words like 'Just like that' and 'God, Killian. Harder', and he ignored the sweat trailing down his face and chest as he pistoned his hips forward, the table rocking under her with each of his powerful thrusts. He leaned forward to stimulate her clit with every stroke, and she cried out his name when she came, the fluttering of her walls around his cock triggering his own orgasm. He let out a growl as his semen shot out of him, her walls contracting around him and milking him dry until he collapsed atop of her, his heart galloping in his chest and his breath coming out in ragged pants.

"Wow," she whispered against his ear, and he chuckled, taking his weight of her as he was leaning back to take in her flushed face.

"Wow right back," he told her, pressing his lips against hers for a thorough kiss before straightening and slipping out of her.

He rolled the condom off and pulled up his pants, not bothering with buttoning them, before discarding the condom in the trash, grateful that using a rubber had one definite advantage besides the obvious protection; there was not much of a mess they needed to take care of afterwards. Emma could just slip her panties back on and step into his waiting arms to lean her head on his shoulder.

"How about brunch now?" she murmured against his skin.

"That's an excellent idea, love. I'm starving."

"I'm just gonna take a quick shower, and while I'm making another batch of scrambled eggs since you ruined the first ones ..."

"I didn't hear you complaining."

"You can take one, too," she finished her sentence without acknowledging his comment, patting his chest as she stepped away.

"As you wish, milady," he replied as she strolled out of the kitchen, her answering chuckle warming his heart.

They shared a hearty breakfast, telling each other funny stories from the years they'd been apart, but as time went by a tense undercurrent slipped into the conversation, and Killian knew it was time for the long overdue conversation when Emma leaned back in her chair with her fingers curled around the coffee mug in her hand.

"Talk."

He told her everything, really everything. About his life as a famous rock star; about the booze, the women, bathing in the glory. About his fall after the accident, how everything crashed down around him.

She didn't tell him she was sorry, she just held his hand through all of it, apparently realizing instinctively that talking about it with her, knowing she wouldn't judge him, was helping him more than seeing pity in her eyes, and when he'd told her everything she just leaned forward and curled her hand around his neck, pulling him forward to kiss him softly, making his heart clench in his chest with the love he felt for her; a love that had been there all along, just waiting in the background until he was ready for it.

"He is an ass," Killian said, surprising himself by bringing up the topic of her bastard ex-manager and ex-boyfriend.

"Who?" she asked, a shadow flickering over her face.

"You know who I'm talking about."

"It's in the past."

"He hurt you." He leaned forward to brush her hair behind her ear, skimming his fingers over her cheek. "But it's his loss."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes bright as she leaned into his touch.

"You're a wonderful woman, Emma. In every way." He wrapped his hand around her neck, and pulled her forward, his lips ghosting over hers as he breathed, "And I was a fool."

"A fool?" Her voice sounded breathless, and he leaned back again, letting his hand drop from her face reluctantly, but wanting to look into her eyes when he gave her his answer.

"For letting you go all those years ago."

"Killian, as great as being with you again has been ..." she trailed off, throwing him an apologetic glance as she added, "We can't just pick up where we left off."

"I know," he said, ignoring the pang in his chest her words caused. She was right after all. Too much had happened in the last ten years.

"You're still obviously struggling with the loss of your voice, and you are still grieving. I don't … you need time to figure things out and ..." She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, letting out a shaky breath before she continued, "I have to go back tomorrow, but I want you to stay here as long as you like. Let yourself heal, Killian."

His throat closed up with emotions, and he curled his fingers around hers, not able to hold it in any longer. "I love you, Emma. I always have. Since the first moment I saw you."

"I know," she replied, her hand turning in his to squeeze his fingers. "I love you, too. But love can't heal all wounds. You have to find out what you want from your future, and going into a relationship … we're both famous, Killian. The paparazzi would be all over this. I don't want you to face it before you're ready for it."

"You're incredible, Swan," he breathed, feeling tears prick the back of his eyes. He didn't know how he deserved her love, but he would do anything to be worthy of her. "You know that, right?"

"I don't want to leave you alone with the struggle, but I have obligations, contracts to fulfill. I can't stay with you here," she told him, her eyes showing the regret she was feeling about having to leave. "But whenever you need me you give me a call, okay?"

"Okay."

They spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch, watching TV; only breaking the lull once when the constant desire that simmered between them made her straddle him, a mischievous grin playing over her lips when she pulled a condom out of the breast pocket of her shirt and rolled it over him before sinking down on him, and riding them both into oblivion.

He made love to her one more time in the crack of dawn, taking her slowly with languid strokes, drawing it out as long as he could, knowing it would be the last time he could feel her like this for an indeterminate period of time, and his heart felt heavy in his chest when she kissed him goodbye two hours later before slipping behind the wheel of her bug and leaving him alone.