I've always said that if a guy doesn't make me feel the way Yellow by Coldplay does, he's not the one. I think Emma feels that way about Killian. Just maybe.

For tumblr user asyouwishemma who asked for smut where Emma really needs to blow off steam and feel something other than fear/panic and she goes to Hook.

Hope you enjoy. Reviews are my drug ;)


He's leaning back in his barstool, elbows propped up behind him, when Emma finally has enough of it. She downs the rest of her rum and excuses herself from a conversation with her mother and Ruby about what colour the nursery should be painted for the new baby, walking over to the pirate with confidence in her eyes. She leans across him, setting her glass back on the bench and then, standing upright again, says, "I need to talk to you."

It's simple and to the point - nothing that's going to get lost in translation.

She turns around and begins to walk. Not seconds later, he follows.

It's almost weird that he's staying in the room she stayed in when she first came to Storybrooke. But she doesn't dwell on it, kicking the door shut behind her and approaching Killian with need in her gaze.

"Emma, what-"

But she cuts him off, "What the hell is this?" Her index finger is quite harshly thrust into his chest, moving down quickly and hooking on the inside of his black undershirt, "What is the point of even wearing a shirt?"

Her fingers are already unclasping his vest and he finds himself completely okay with whatever is going on, "It's habitual, lass. Rebellion against my naval uniform come a habit is all."

She shakes her head, "Do you have any idea how distracting it is?" Her hands are so warm and he shouldn't be this turned on by Emma touching his chest alone. But, gods, he is.

"I'm most certain I do not." She swats him for being a smart ass and he grabs her around the waist, pulling her into him, throwing her off balance, "But I'd imagine it's similarly as distracting as having a beautiful woman undress you without making so much as a move."

She looks up at him then, his words pulling her from her almost trance-like assault on his clothing, eyes widening as she realises where exactly she's standing, "Oh god…I just…"

He feels her begin to pull away, but he's faster, keeping her tight against him, "I didn't say stop."

She swallows, her mouth opening and closing in succession without a word to support herself.

His grip on her wrist loosens, his hand trailing up her arm, over her shoulder and cupping her cheek gently, "I know that you're scared, that this is all too much sometimes." He lowers his head a fraction, just enough that she can smell the sweet scent of rum on his tongue, "If this is what you need to distract yourself, I am willing. But know that, for me, it will mean a greater deal than a one-time thing."

She understands what he is offering at the sacrifice of his feelings, but that's not at all that she needs. Not really. "It's not that."

He frowns, "Then what shall I be led to believe this is all about?"

Her head tilts into his hand, closing her eyes and letting his thumb caress her cheek in a careful manner, "Mary Margaret wants to paint the nursery yellow."

Confusion crosses his face, "Yellow is a nice colour?"

She smiles despite herself, "The fact is that, even with everything going on, with the threats looming over us constantly, the Wicked Witch around every corner, my mother can sit down and have a conversation about paint."

He sees it now, "Oh lass…"

But she holds up a hand against his chest, her eyes opening again, "Don't pity me. Just tell me…there's something here, right?" Her thumb brushes over where his heart is.

"Aye. Very much so."

She nods, "If they can talk about paint, we can talk about the amount of buttons you choose to leave undone, then."

He smiles, "Alas love, it is not a ploy to woo you. I am simply challenged when it comes to buttons." He raises his fake hand as evidence of his argument.

The tears in her eyes surprise her, but what catches them both off guard even more than that is the burst of laughter that breaks free of her, lips curling into the most beautiful smile he's ever seen. "That's it, then?"

And he finds that it's infectious, a chuckle escaping him also, "Aye, it is."

Their eyes meet, their laughter dying down as they see something entirely new in each other, something that could be happiness for the both of them. Before another word can pass between them, before she can run, he leans into her pressing his lips against hers in a moment reminiscent of their dalliance in Neverland.

Quick, powerful and so meaningful.

She pulls back with a gasp, her eyes searching his for something specific. His hand comes to rest over hers, above his heart, and he holds it there, the beat drumming against her fingertips.

"It's yours. If you'll have it."

She leans in, pressing a kiss there on his chest, her hands working to push his vest off his shoulders, her fingers returning to the front of his shirt, gripping each side of the V and pulling, ripping the distracting clothing apart. She rises on her toes then, arms wrapping around his neck and sinking into the kiss he has waiting for her.

He sweeps her up, carrying her the few steps to his bed and crawling over her. His hand trails a burning path down her side and back up under her shirt and over her breast. She lifts her arms, eager to be bared to him, and he obliges, pulling the material from her skin.

His lips find their way to her ear, breathing hotly as he whispers words of love to her. She can't help but moan when he nips at her lobe and rocks his hips downwards, their bodies touching in the most intimate of ways.

He continues his adventure down her torso, his tongue entering the mix over the lace of her bra, sucking each nipple into hardness before tearing the garment from her body. She can't even bring herself to be mad, arching her back and encouraging his perfect touches.

Her pants are the first to go and she rolls the two of them over before getting to work on his, straddling him in nothing but her panties, rocking into his arousal as she pulls at his laces.

"Lass," he warns, and she remembers it's been a while for him. She halts her hip movements, focussing on getting his pants off. But once the task is complete, she finds herself in a bit of a predicament.

Because with his cock very obviously straining towards her, she wants nothing more than to taste him. "You've just gotta hold on," she urges, kissing her way up his inner thigh.

The groan he expels as her lips close around his head is enough to have her body reacting in turn and her hand sliding down between her own legs. She widens her jaw and sinks down a little further, her tongue licking along the underside of his length, an approving hum escaping her and sending shockwaves through him. "Gods Emma. What sweet hell did they teach you that in?"

She pushes a finger inside of herself at the sound of his pleasure, her inner walls slick with her need for the man she currently has her mouth wrapped around. Unable to answer him, she just speeds it up a little, adding a gentle suction to every bob of her head.

He arches his back into her, his head rolling to the side as he clenches his eyes closed, "Emma, I'm close."

And fuck, so is she, her fingers having worked her into quite a state. She pulls back, his cock slipping from her mouth with an ungraceful 'pop', and works her panties down her legs. "One day," she starts, as she hovers over him, the tip of his length just grazing across the wetness of her, "I will finish that job."

With a wink, she sinks down on him, her body ready for the stretch she feels, relishing in it with a soft moan. His hand comes to rest on her thigh, massaging softly as she begins to move, her lithe body pulling up and pushing back, rolling her hips in a sweet rotation. "Feel so good, darling," he breathes, moving his hand higher on her leg, his thumb reaching out to roll around her clit.

At his touch, she pauses for a moment, her heart beating wildly in her chest, her body on the edge of a precipice. He senses her restraint and reaches his arm behind her back, pulling her down to kiss her once more. Then, in a show of his excellent skill, he hooks his leg around hers and rolls them over.

"This is just the beginning," he promises, taking a guess at why she's trying to draw this out as long as possible. It's a nice thought, but they're both so close, both so ready for one another.

She nods, understanding everything that he is offering her, "Good."

If she was going to say anything else, her words are swallowed in a searing kiss, his thrusts rocking into her with renewed vigour, her orgasm sitting on the edge of its cliff within seconds. And then he touches her clit again and she crumbles beneath him with a sharp gasp and a whispered curse

He smiles, watching her body glow from her happiness and within a moment he stills suddenly, a lengthy groan easing from him as he comes inside of her. His breath is shaky, her body is humming and they collapse on the bed next to each other with content smiles on their faces.

"Definitely not a one-time thing," she muses and he laughs at her candour.

"I would certainly hope not." He rolls on his side, hand reaching out to trail across her still sensitive skin, eliciting shivers of pleasure from her, "Although, I may need to invest in some more heavy duty shirts if we're to continue these dalliances."

She finds herself laughing again, "There is no point to your shirt anyway."

He leans over, whispering in her ear, "The point may not lie in functionality, princess," he begins, "But it is certainly worth teasing you with for a reaction like this."

He kisses her again before she can call him on it.