Chapter Text
His legs are as heavy as lead as they trek back to the field and make camp for the night. Emma clears a patch of dirt to arrange some small limbs and lights a fire for them. Together, they roll up a nearby log and watch the flames spark and crackle. It's not yet dark, the sun only beginning to sink beneath the horizon, but there is a distinct chill in the air. Killian shivers, wishing only for a moment that he'd worn the leather instead of the linen. That heavy-ass coat would come in handy right about now. Emma seems content as she hovers her hands over the heat of the embers. Yet, anxiety gnaws at him.
"You don't think we'll draw attention to ourselves, do you? The castle isn't far off, lass." Being ambushed by a wizard with a vendetta is less than desirable, and after their earlier surprise, he's scared to let his guard down. But, Emma is a picture of composure, merely shrugging as she pokes the fire with a long stick.
"I'll take my chances, it's better than shivering all night, and the fire should deter any other curious predators." He nods and stares into the fire, willing his nerves to relax. The hypnotic flames both warm and soothe him. He's reminded of his time at summer camp as a lad, of fireflies and crickets and a sticky first kiss.
"A campfire always makes me want smores," he says. She furrows her brow. "They're a gooey dessert item made from crackers and chocolate. You add marshmallows and roast them over a fire."
"I think I'd very much like to visit your realm," she muses.
"I think I'd like that too," he honestly replies. Truth be told, he has grown quite attached to this Emma. Deep down, he knows she could never be his, but he's suddenly struck with sadness that he must leave her behind. At least her Hook can return to love and watch over her. His Emma, however, is on the brink of moving to Boston and leaving him forever. She deserves to know of his affections, and he can't muck it up and risk losing her forever. Now that he has had a taste of sharing a life with her, he's (nearly) out of excuses to drag his feet.
"It's a wonder you still have a lower lip with the way you constantly gnaw it," she mutters. "What has you so deep in thought?" She eyes him curiously, but he averts his gaze.
"Does your offer from last night still stand? About-helping me with my Emma." His cheeks are suddenly warm, having little to do with the fire.
"Yes, why?"
"I'm tired of sitting back and waiting for life to unfold. I need to tell her how I feel, but how? How can I ever be the man she needs me to be?” Unsure if he's speaking to her or merely himself, the pain of admitting his shortcomings cuts like a knife. A tender touch of soft fingers lacing his sends a zing of warmth up the length of his arm.
“Just be yourself, Killian. Relationships are based on trust."
"We do...trust each other, that is. We're friends, after all," he sighs. "I'm unsure how to approach her on taking it to the next level."
"By being honest! Tell her of your affections. Court her. Bring her flowers. Hold her hand. You can surely manage those things." She tilts her head and smiles at him.
"Aye. I can certainly do that." He hesitates. "But...what if I can't pleasure her?" He's ashamed to ask such an intimate question but doesn't fear judgment, not from her.
"The sexual stuff you build together. You talk, you experiment, you set your rhythm. Just be open and honest with each other.”
“That's easy for you to say. You're confident and strong and have a partner who knows how to take the lead. I'm terrible in bed.” He rubs his temples, shoving back the image of disappointment etched on his previous lovers' faces.
"Then, I suppose you'll have to perfect your talents against desks, walls, and ladders," she teases, her lips restraining a laugh.
"Wow, so you're a comedian now. Lovely," he jests. She nudges him harder than anticipated as he topples off the log and onto his ass. She no longer hides her delight as the familiar song of laughter fills the night air.
"Oh, you're going to pay for that, princess!" he gloats. He reaches for her arm, intending to pull her down next to him, but realizes too late that it's his hooked hand.
"Ouch!" she hisses, clutching her forearm.
"Emma, I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!" He frantically tears a piece of cloth from his shirt and applies it to her wound.
"I have magic, remember. You needn't worry." She places her hand to the cut, and it's sealed in seconds, but the image of blood trickling down her arm is permanently burned onto his retinas.
“Fuck! See, I'm socially inept, Emma! I take wonderful moments and ruin them. Nobody wants to be with an imbecile." He hastily removes the godforsaken hook and flings it carelessly to the ground. After a few quiet moments, his breathing returns to normal. Then, she wordlessly picks it up, feeling the weight of the hook transfer from one hand to another.
"Such a simple attachment, yet it's so much more." She speaks softly, and he is helpless but to listen. "I often wonder what he thought the moment he lost his hand, knowing his life was irreparably changed." She scoots closer so that they're thigh to thigh, and she pulls his left arm onto her lap. "You see, it's not the obstacles we encounter along the way that define us, but how we respond to them." With a distinct clicking sound, he finds the hook reattached. "Life can change in a heartbeat, Killian. Don't waste a fucking second of it!" She tugs his hook forward until their lips collide. The press of her lips surprises him at first until he catches on and threads his right hand through her hair. The kisses turn soft and unhurried, allowing him to relax against her, breathing her in. A final chaste press, and he pulls away.
“Emma, I don’t know about the implications of all this, despite what occurred last night. This is my body, but it isn’t my body. You’ve technically kissed these lips a thousand times, but is it considered cheating if the conscious isn’t the same? I guess it kinda is-I” She jerks him forward with a force he didn't know she possessed and seals their mouths once more. The kiss has heat behind it, and he opens to her when she drags her tongue across his lower lip. The flicks of her tongue against his own leave his knees weak.
“Emma, bloody hell, your mouth feels incredible!” He takes control, kissing her wildly. When the scent of lavender invades his senses, it’s hard not to convince himself that she’s the same Emma that curses at the copy machine when it’s out of toner.
“Touch me, Killian. I need you to touch me," she whimpers.
“Show me,” he pants. She takes his hand and guides it to her warm, wet heat under her dress. His heart pounds in anticipation, nearly exploding when he meets her bare core.
“Bloody hell, are undergarments not available in your realm at all!?” She giggles and guides his fingers where she needs him most. He struggles to find the proper finger placement, and she stops him.
"This might be easier lying down," she suggests. He allows her to drag him off the log and onto the ground behind it. With her flat on her back, it's easy to hover and steal a few more kisses from her sweet lips.
"Ready?" she asks. He whispers a soft yes and moves his hand back to her center. With her silent encouragement, he gently begins his explorations.
“Stop thinking about it, Killian. Just feel. I’m not a china doll. Firm strokes," she begs. He drags his index finger forward, and she suddenly bucks into his hand. “Yes, right there. Do it again.” He does, and she moans, opening her legs wider. She removes her hand, and he continues the movements without her guidance. “Now, slowly take two fingers and ease them inside me.” He nods and does so. “Mmm, yes. Now thrust them in and out.” He does, and when he turns his wrist, she anchors herself to his shirt. “Fuck! Now flick them forward like you're beckoning some-OH!” She becomes a puddle of moans and pants. He can't resist placing warm wet kisses on her neck. She mutters, curses, and writhes against him. “So close, so damn close.”
"Emma, what else do you need from me, love?"
"Say something dirty; tell me what you want to do to me," she moans. Her desperate plea leaves only one thought echoing through him.
"I want to taste you, darling. I want fuck you with my tongue," he pants.
"Yes!" she shouts all too eagerly. "Please put your mouth on me!" He pulls away to reposition himself. He begins by hiking her dress up her thighs and placing delicate kisses on each side. He could spend all night marveling at her soft creamy skin, simply tracing his lips along her body. The princess has different ideas as she unexpectedly grips his hair with both hands and guides him directly to her center. He chuckles, and his breath against her sex elicits a moan that hums in his ears and sends tingles down his spine. The first taste of her is like a drug he knows he can't live without. He stops thinking of anything else except how to make this woman fall apart around him. The sounds exiting her sweet lips are ungodly, and the strain against his pants is downright painful. Suddenly, he feels her clenching around his fingers like a vice grip, and he slowly works her down from her high before lying down next to her.
“Killian, that was fucking amazing!" she moons. While uncomfortably adjusting his pants, a set of small fingers joins his. “Here, let me take care of you.”
“It’s okay, maybe later," he shrugs, kissing her hand and returning it to her side.
“You stubborn ass man, you deserve a release after that performance. Get over here.” She starts to undo his laces, but he stops her.
"You don't owe me anything, Emma. I'm not a bloody dog who gets a treat for being a good boy." He cringes from the unintentional bite in his tone.
"Killian, I know. Believe me; I want to. I didn't mean-"
"I just need a minute." He hurriedly rises and retreats to the edge of the field, praying she doesn't follow. With his mind all a jumble, he needs space to think. He blinks up at the stars. They're so much clearer here, but their patterns are unfamiliar, reminding him yet again that this place isn't his home. He closes his eyes, wondering what in the bloody hell is wrong with him to refuse affection from a gorgeous woman. "Brother, I wish you were here; I could use some advice. I'm in way over my head, here." He knows precisely what Liam would tell him, constantly pushing him to be more extroverted. He would remind Killian that she was trying to help him, and it was he who solicited such assistance. But, Killian desires so much more than to trade sexual favors. He wants a life with the woman he loves, marriage and children, and maybe even a dog. Unfortunately for him, his chance at real love is a realm away.
Then, there's the matter of the ache in his groin throbbing incessantly beneath his trousers. He could ask for assistance, but his stubborn streak comes to the forefront as he stammers an apology into the night air and unties his laces. He thinks only of her as he takes himself in hand and strokes till completion. Relief washes over him, mixed with a tinge of regret from walking away from her. While he's tucking himself away, his fingers touch the edge of a jagged scar across his pubic bone. He wishes he could speak to Hook, imagining there's a tale behind each blemish, proof of a life well-lived. He imagines trading stories with the pirate and snorts to himself. "I suppose I could show him the toe I broke in sixth grade while stubbing it on a rock," he mumbles. After a few calming breaths and righting himself, he shuffles back to their fire. He rejoins a solemn Emma, wincing when he notices the hurt in her eyes.
"Killian! I'm so sorry. I forget you're not him, and simply I didn't think." She rises to meet him, pleading all the while. He does what comes naturally to him and softly embraces her, holding her close and whispering shushes into her hair.
“You did nothing untoward. I just needed to gather my thoughts." He gives her a soft smile, and she returns in kind, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes, which he promptly wipes away with his knuckles. "I do have another question if you'd indulge me.”
"Of course," she replies. He pulls down his pants enough to reveal his pubic bone. Her eyes pop, and he smirks before pointing to that scar he discovered, appearing more jagged and menacing in the firelight.
"How did he get this scar right here? It’s a little close for comfort.” She traces its length with her fingers, and it occurs to him that she's probably gazed upon it a million times.
“Neverland. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but I think some serious shit went down there. This one is from a sword, or so he says." She lifts his shirt higher, enough to expose his ribcage. "This one is from a mutinous crewmate who tried to stab him in his sleep." She pulls back his right sleeve to reveal three small scars on his forearm. These are still pink and assumedly newer. "These came from a barfight in Agrabah several months back.
"Agrabah. Neverland." He bites his lip in steady contemplation. "Hell, I barely travel past Boston to visit Liam." That name, when spoken aloud, sobers her.
"Not belittling your hardships, but you're quite lucky, you know. You have many things in your life that my Killian doesn't have, including Liam."
"You're right, Emma. I can't imagine living with that loss. He's truly a stronger man than I am." He looks upon her tired face and insists on her sleeping while he takes first watch. They snuggle against the log, and she lays her head on his lap. He drags his fingers through her soft blonde curls.
"He's not, you know," she mumbles. "Stronger. Life hasn't hardened you; that's not a bad thing, Killian."
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He awakens to the sound heaving and finds Emma kneeling on the ground a few feet from their makeshift camp. It is still dark outside; the fire is reduced to ashes. He rushes to her side, slowly rubbing her back.
"Darling! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. It's nothing. Stop fussing." She brushes him off, but he knows something is amiss.
"Don't lie to me, Emma!" Noticing his accusing tone, he softens. "I'm not completely ignorant in the ways of the world. Do you think maybe...is it possible you're with child, lass?" She stands and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, desperate to put distance between them. "I mean, it just seems-"
"It's funny how men think they know everything. Just drop it, Killian," she spits. It's the first time since their meeting that he senses hostility between them, making his heart clench. He nods sadly and gives her time to herself as they prepare for the last leg of their journey. His stomach is in knots, anticipating the arrival at the Dark One's palace. Time is of the essence, and he has no desire to spend the rest of his days with a hook as a hand. He packs up a few items until he hears horses whinnying in the distance. Emma stares wide-eyed, and he pulls her behind some foliage. They see a horse and carriage depart from the castle and watch until it's entirely out of sight.
"Funny, I didn't know the Dark One rode in a carriage. He must be on a mission," she whispers.
"All I know is that now is our chance while he's away." He jerks his head toward the palace. "Come on, princess."
The castle is large and looming, utterly void of any life. They tiptoe to the front gate to find it locked, so they sneak to an open window on the east side. It's low enough to climb, and he smiles at their good fortune.
"Will you give me a boost, lass?" he asks.
"No way! You can give me a boost. I'm lighter. Then, I'll throw something down for you to climb up," she suggests. He is in no mood to start a quarrel, so he agrees.
"Fine." He helps her climb through the window, and within minutes, she tosses him a rope to assist him in his ascent. He comes tumbling down onto what appears to be a kitchen floor.
"We're in, Emma." He stands, dusting his pants and appraising their surroundings. "Come on, then." He offers his hand, but she refuses to take it.
"I'm scared, Killian."
"No worries, we'll find the crystal and be on our way soon." He tries to pull her up, but she denies him again.
"Not that." She scoots back, propping her back against a pantry door. "Back in the forest, you were right." She picks at her fingernails as her eyes well up with tears. "There's going to be a baby," she admits. Her words are like a gut punch- a version of him is going to be a father! He could boast of his correctness, but he feels pity for her. He imagines her predicament as a terrifying one. An unwed princess with child is scandalous enough without adding a one-handed pirate into the mix. Returning home is more important than ever.
"What if Hook rejects me? I can’t raise a baby on my own. The kingdom will have a fit when I bring home the bastard of a pirate.” She taps her head against the pantry door, and he takes his now-familiar place by her side.
“He’ll marry you. I know he will," he assures her.
"How do you know that? Because that's what you want?" she barks.
“That...and I found an engagement ring earlier while looking for clothing in his trunk.” His smug admission stuns her.
“What?! If you’re teasing me, pregnant or not-I will punch you, Jones."
“Seriously, I wouldn’t joke about that. I wasn’t going to tell you and ruin the surprise, but I think you need some reassurance.”
"But, the baby? What if he doesn't want it?"
"Perish that thought, darling." He pauses. "I promise you that he'll be delighted to be a father. He'll be as nervous as hell but thrilled to have a little one." He nudges her arm. "You could've told me."
"I was planning on telling him that night you arrived, but I chickened out. He started talking about his latest adventure, and I realized that I could never measure up."
"That's utter nonsense. If adventure on the high seas were so great, he wouldn't keep returning to you. Maybe he thinks that since you fell in love with a pirate, you'd fall out of love if he becomes domestic. He's keeping up the façade to keep from losing you."
"You're right, Killian. I think you're right. Gods, I'm a fool. We have to get him back."
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They enter the Dark One’s foyer, hearts pounding with trepidation. The plan is straightforward. Get in. Find the crystal. Get the hell out. They climb the stairs and enter a large room through an ornate archway. A long table fills the expanse of the space, making his mouth water with the assortment of meats and cheeses. He pops a grape into his mouth, but his hand is slapped from his mouth as he dives in for more.
"Stealing from the Dark One isn't a good idea, Killian," she scolds. But he knows she's eyeing up the spread herself.
"There's enough food here to feed an entire kingdom; I doubt he'll miss a handful of grapes."
"I dare not tempt fate; let's keep searching." She urges him away from the table. He catches movement out of the corner of his eye, just outside the massive window to his right. Worry fills his being as he inches closer. He leans against the heavy red drapes and sneaks a peek at the garden. A man with shimmery skin stands talking to himself. Un-fucking-believable. He's here.
"Emma, we need to hurry. I fear it was not our unknowing host that exited the castle earlier."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because he's standing in his damned garden as we speak!" They share a shred of silence before desperately resuming the search for the crystal. "I know it's here; I swear I can feel its presence. Keep looking," he urges. He brushes a bookshelf with his shoulder, and a strange swooping sensation hits him; the same feeling gets on the tilt-a-whirl at the Massachusetts State Fair. A push to the shelf opens a hidden room filled with a most peculiar collection of trinkets. Sure enough, sitting on a table is the crystal.
“Emma,” he whispers. “I found it!” He picks it up, dodges the window overlooking the garden, and carries it to the dining table for better lighting.
“Activate it!” she urges. He touches it with both hands, but nothing happens.
“Maybe we have to wait until midnight?” he suggests.
“Or I could kill you now, dearie!” He jerks his head to the screech of a repulsive giggle nearby.
“Principal Gold?” He stands in awe of a twisted version of his hard-nosed principal, mirroring the recognition and shock on the stranger's face. Killian can barely take a breath before he's launched across the room, his body aching from the force of contact. He crumples to the floor. In an instant, the man steps on his hook with a murderous gaze.
“Drop the act, pirate! Let’s pretend for a moment you’re not here to kill me.”
“Kill you? Why would I want-” Suddenly, a solid invisible pressure lifts him so his toes are inches off the ground.
“Dark One! Drop him!” His eyes blow wide when Emma emerges from her hiding place behind the door, hoping she had made a run for it but selfishly glad she stayed.
“And what have we here? It looks like you got over Milah easily enough. And with the heir of Misthaven no less.” Killian claws at his own neck, desperate to free himself from the invisible pressure clamping his windpipe. He feels his consciousness fading as Emma pleads with the scaly incarnate of his boss.
“Rumple, the man you’re about to strangle to death, isn’t Hook! He’s from an alternate reality. He needs the crystal to get back home.” Something in the creature’s eyes softens, and he lets Killian land on the floor with a crash. Emma runs to his side, cradling his head. “Please, Dark One, I know my parents showed you mercy when the Queen’s curse failed. I’m asking for mercy again to get this man home safe to his reality.”
“You called me something strange earlier, pirate. What was it?”
“In my reality, you are my principal," he wheezes. The Dark One wrinkles his nose in confusion. “My boss. You're my boss."
“And, tell me, do I have a son in this reality?”
“Yes. He lives in New York City with your ex-wife. You visit him as often as you can.”
“Bae,” he whispers. His eyes almost become wistful as he turns to Killian, a plan forming behind his cold eyes.
“If I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll run you both through.”
“We’re not,” Emma states. He stares at her as if searching for a lie.
“Go on then, activate it!” the man demands. Killian straightens and stands on wobbly legs with Emma's help.
“I tried. I don’t know how, exactly. In my world, it just started glowing. It might not work. I was told it only activates every five years at midnight.” He limps to the table, using its surface as a crutch.
“How ridiculous," the creature growls. "The Olympian Crystal is always awake; it just needs the right person to trigger the reaction. Only a person who is pure of heart can do that. I can't imagine that comes in the form of a wife-stealing pirate."
“I'm telling you the truth. And, I'm not a pirate; I'm an art teacher. Though I remember I read a piece of paper aloud first, I don’t remember exactly what it said.”
"An incantation, I knew it!" he giggles and claps his hands. "This is your lucky day, pirate. You may get to live after all." He removes his cloak, placing it on the back of a chair as he poses with a sadistic grin. "The incantation, if you will?" He gestures to Killian, expecting him to activate the crystal.
"I told you I don't remember," Killian pleads, but the repulsive little man cannot hide the anger on his face.
"Let me jog your memory." He casts a spell on Emma, freezing her in place. The fear in her eyes shakes him to his core. “You better remember pretty quickly, or your girlfriend here gets the knife.” The Dark One snatches a knife from the table and strolls toward her.
“Don’t touch her, you bastard; she’s with child!” he shouts. Killian tries to walk, but his legs are useless lumps of jelly. The man giggles again, taunting Killian by standing close to Emma, firmly holding a knife.
“Tick tock, dearie, tick-tock.” He swipes the knife to and fro, slicing through the air before placing it on her neck.
“Ah... think Killian think... Anoi-something…” Rumple drags the weapon from her neck to her stomach. Shit, shit, shit!
“Wait...uh….dromo….”
“You’re out of time, dearie!” He firmly grips the knife, preparing to plunge it into Emma's gut. Fuck!
“Anoíxte to drómo pros to peproméno!” he screams. The crystal instantly begins to glow, and Rumpelstiltskin stares in awe, releasing Emma. She crumples to the floor, and Killian crawls on all fours to reach her.
“Are you okay, love?” He holds her close, placing a protective hand around her waist.
“Yes," she cries. Rumple steps forward and tentatively touches the crystal. He is immediately flung backward towards them, unconscious. Emma extends her leg and nudges his body with her shoe. He is alive but completely unresponsive.
“You better go, Killian! Your realm is waiting for you to return.” She helps him to his feet, and he shuffles to the crystal.
"Stay back! I don't want it to take you, too," he warns. She launches herself into his arms, squeezing his neck tightly. He gives her a soft hug and kisses her cheek. “Thank you, Emma. For everything. Tell Hook...just tell him about me, aye?” He moves down to kiss her abdomen. "Goodbye, little one. " She smiles and pulls him in for a quick kiss on the lips.
"Goodbye, Killian. I love you. Now go get your girl." He smiles but saves those three words for someone else's ears. He cautiously extends his palm forward and is propelled backward.
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He is lying on the library floor when he awakes, a goose egg quickly developing on his head. He sits up and looks around; everything is how he left it. The crystal is safe in its glass case, lid intact. He's in his button-up and jeans, and his body is cold from lying on the tile floor.
“Jones!” His head jerks up. “What in the hell are you doing here at this time of night? Napping!?”
“Principal Gold?”
“No, it’s the Pope!" he snarks. "I received a call from Mrs. Lucas across the street. She said some kids were messing around in here.”
“There was a light left on-”
“I don’t care. It's after midnight! Go home, Jones!” he orders.
“Aye, sir.” He mockingly salutes his boss, standing and cracking his neck. He clutches the back of his head to ease the throbbing. He’ll need a painkiller, but he has a visit to make first. He hopes she’s still awake.
“I’ll see you next Monday; enjoy the rest of your break...dearie.” He turns and sees the gleam in his boss' eye. It couldn’t be…
Killian hightails it out of there, making it to Emma’s apartment complex in record time. He frantically knocks. She answers the door in pajama pants and a tank top, covered by a fuzzy pink robe.
“Oh, Killian! Did-did you need something?”
“May I come in?” he pants, smoothing back his hair.
“Sure,” she warmly replies. He briefly registers the sound of the door closing and locking, but it's drowned out by the blood whooshing in his ears. “You're out of breath. Can I get you something to drink?”
"No, thanks. I just needed to tell you something."
"Tell me what?" Deep breaths, Killian, you've got this!
"That I can't live another minute without knowing what your lips taste like." He pulls her to him by her waist, firmly pressing his lips to hers. She is stiff from surprise but soon relaxes in his arms. The moment is pure perfection, better than he'd ever dreamed. Before she can deepen the kiss, he pulls away.
"Killian..." she whispers. She's taken aback by his admission, but he doesn't stop there.
“I love you!” he exclaims. She steps back, blinking. "I have for the past four years. I couldn’t find the courage to admit it to you. But you deserve to know before you leave for Boston, and I live the rest of my life with regret.” He locks his eyes on her, and she touches his sleeve, sending goosebumps up his arm.
“I’m not taking the job. In fact, I just sent an email to the principal earlier politely declining the offer.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you, too!” He suppresses the urge to devour her whole, but he cups her cheeks and gives her lips the softest of kisses in a move of surprising restraint. Emma will have none of it as she entirely claims his lips, opening her mouth to allow him exploration. She tastes of cinnamon and chocolate, and he loses himself in the heat of her body, and the feel of her breasts pressed tightly to his chest. She pulls away, and he shrugs off his coat while she starts on the buttons of his dress shirt, removing it from his shoulders. He lets it fall to the floor. He squeezes her waist and immediately retracts his hands, afraid he's cut her. He chuckles when he flexes the digits on his left hand.
“Are you okay? Do you want to take this somewhere quieter?”
"I'm fine, love. It's just been a crazy night." He can't resist pressing his forehead to hers.
"Follow me," she huskily requests. She takes his hand and leads him down the hallway to the right, pulling him into her bedroom. His eyes immediately zero in on a picture on her nightstand. It's of the two of them chaperoning the winter formal, goofily volunteering as guinea pigs for the photographer amidst a background of blue butcher paper and foam snowflakes. He examines the photo, smiling from memory and marveling that she chooses to keep a picture of him next to her bed. She was a vision in red, and their matching grins speak of genuine affection. "I don't have many of just the two of us, but you look so handsome in this one," she gushes.
"How long have you had feelings for me, love?" he asks.
"I've always had feelings for you, Killian. But, I don't think I realized their depth until this year. It was so hard being around you, knowing that you'd never see me as more than a friend."
"I know exactly what that feels like, Emma." He places the photo back on the nightstand and leans into her lips again, kissing her reverently. She stops to run her palms up his chest, and he shivers beneath her touch. Her sparkling green eyes never leave his as she removes her tank top. He gulps as she places his hands on her bare breasts. A million thoughts race through his mind, but he's rendered motionless, frozen to this very spot.
"We don't have to do anything tonight, Killian. We've waited this long, after all." He knows her words are hollow by the clear want in her eyes, and there is no way in hell he's walking away from this, but there is room to play the cheeky friend card.
"Very well then, Emma. I'll ring you up tomorrow, aye?" He kisses her cheek and winks, but it only takes one step before she's standing in front of him and shoving him onto her bed.
"Suit yourself," she sings, tucking her fingers into the waistband of her pajama pants. "You won't mind if I get more comfortable, will you?" She hears his intake of breath and bites her lip in response. She continues removing her pants until his hands stop her. It has taken four years, countless conversations, hundreds of lonely nights, and a journey to another reality to bring him to this moment. He'll be damned if he doesn't get to take his time with her.
“May I?” he asks. She nods. He kneels before her as a knight would for his queen. His thumb strokes the impossibly soft skin just below her belly button, and he hooks his fingers on her waistband, ever so thankful for each and every finger. His eye contact never wavers; he removes her bottoms, trailing his fingers down her legs until they pool at her ankles. She squirms beneath his touch before impatiently removing a scrap of pink lace serving as the last barrier between them. He laughs. "Try as you may, I won't be rushed, Swan."
"Killian Jones, do you know how long I've waited for this?" She stands close to him, urgently pulling them flush by tugging the loops of his jeans. He inhales a shaky puff of air as her warm breath contacts his chest. She unsnaps him and lowers his zipper, silently seeking permission to continue her exploration. He jolts when her cold fingertips contact the band of his boxer briefs. She mouths a sorry, making him smile and sweetly kiss her lips.
"I still have my shoes on, love. Lie back, and I'll take it from here." The way she nibbles her lip as she shimmies up the bed makes him hiss from the pulsating need within him. The sooner he is free from the constraints of clothing, the better! The shoes and socks are a piece of cake, quickly slipped off by jimmying one heel against the other. His jeans prove more difficult as he gently maneuvers them around his straining erection before shucking them free from his body. Nerves attempt to get the better of him when he locks eyes on Emma, gorgeous and bare before him, waiting on him to make love to her. He forgets about his boxer briefs as he approaches the bed, too tempted by her waiting warmth. He experimentally drags his fingers through her folds, and she arches her back in response. He teases her for a moment with his thumb before inserting two fingers, curling them the way Princess Emma showed him. He boldly brings his mouth to her sex, experimentally swiping his tongue against her. Her body is wild and writhing as he brings her to completion for the first time. She grabs his face and gazes down at him.
“Fuck, Killian. I’m aching for you. Please.” He stands and attempts to remove his boxer briefs sexily. He should've known that anything suave would backfire because his legs get tripped up as he pulls them, and he topples to her carpet flooring with an OOF. She peers over the bed and giggles at him.
"You are unfairly adorable," she sighs. He rolls his eyes in retort.
“Do you have a condom, lass? Perhaps I can search while I'm down here," he jests.
“Uh, no!" Damn. "I get the shot, though. And I’m clean. What about you?”
“No condom, but I haven’t had sex in nearly a year, so….”
“A year?! Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, as you said, the dating pool is shallow here, and the only time I’m afforded the opportunity is when I visit my older brother in Boston.”
“Then, get your ass over here, Jones, so that I can ride you into next week.” She pulls him to the bed as he lies flat. "If I'd have known what you were packing under those dress slacks you wear, I'd have jumped you sooner," she crows. She straddles his thighs, and the sight of her gliding his cock through her folds is nearly his undoing. "Fuck, this feels even better than I imagined." He scrunches his eyes in agreement and takes deep breaths. When she finally sinks upon his length, he swears he sees stars.
"Bloody fucking hell, Emma! There's no better feeling than being inside of you. I love you so damned much!" She takes the lead, riding him mercilessly. He thinks of what the other Emma said, about taking charge, so he rises and grabs her bottom with both hands, squeezing tightly and flipping their positions. She squeaks and urges him on by tightening her hold on him.
"I love you too, Killian," she moans, followed by some choice expletives and muddled words about his stupid blue eyes. What starts slow and passionate ends with him pounding into her with reckless abandon. Just when he can feel her getting close, he recognizes the tingle forming in his spine all too well.
“Emma, I’m sorry. I can’t hold on, love,” he pleads. By now, his thrusts are shallow and jerky, desperately trying to hold on for her.
“It’s alright, let go!” she urges. And let go, he does. At that moment, he lets go of every insecurity he's ever had to embrace a future with the woman he’s destined for in every realm.
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