Author's note: This was my contribution to the Captain Swan Secret Santa. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: This would happen more often if I ran the show. ;)
It had been a frustrating few weeks. Emma Swan had caught hundreds of bail jumpers and other assorted criminals since she's taken up her current occupation. As a former thief herself, she knew all tricks - all the little ways the less than lawful used to remain at liberty. She'd done it for years as a young teen coming out of the wretched foster system. She'd even had a partner in crime for a while; that is until he'd betrayed her and left her high and dry with stolen goods. Her time in prison had hardened her in a way the foster system never had. She came out of it determined to remain on the right side of the law; she came to the bail jumping gig almost by accident. But she was good at it, really good in fact. She took a lot of pride in her job; it was the one thing in her life that belonged to her. Well, that and her yellow Bug.
But her latest mark? Frustrating was the most kind word she could say about him. Emma had been chasing this particular mark for nearly a month. She'd gotten close a few times, but each time he had evaded her. It was maddening. However, it just made her all the more determined to catch him. Tonight Emma had a plan.
She dressed carefully, smoothing out the fabric of her favorite dress. It was pink and hugged her curves in a way that could stop traffic. Her blond hair cascaded around her face and down her back in loose curls. Her makeup was minimal, all part of the image she was trying to project. On this night, she was a woman who was just beginning to test the dating waters after a bad break up. It was a scenario that had worked well for her in the past; she hoped the tried and true would present the desired results.
She left her Bug with the valet and entered the ultra swanky hotel. At least a dozen heads turned as she walked by, but she ignored them all. Instead, she searched the crowd for the face she had memorized from his mug shot. Normally, mug shots showed people at their absolute worst. Not this one. The face had been handsome, Emma remembered. Dark hair, blue eyes that glittered with some unknown mischief, scruff covering his jaw. A lady killer, for sure. But Emma had faced his like before; her job often required bringing in the handsome ones. Easy come, easy go as far as Emma was concerned.
Not seeing her mark at the bar, Emma made her way to the maître d'. "Jones, table for two?" she asked, pleasantly.
The young man smiled. "Oh, yes. Mr. Jones has already arrived. Shall I escort you?"
"No, that won't be necessary."
"As you wish."
Emma slipped into her act as soon as she was out of the waiter's line of sight. She placed a tentative, shy smile on her lips and entered the main floor of the restaurant. She looked around nervously. Her anxiety level jumped a degree when she couldn't find him on the first pass. But then she saw him.
Sitting there, calm as can be, was Killian Jones.
Quite unconsciously, Emma sucked in a breath. The picture she had in her mind in no way matched the reality. The dark hair, blue eyes and scruff were all in place, but that photo had in no way captured Killian Jones. He was wearing a dark suit with a white shirt and icy blue tie that matched his eyes. He gave all the appearance of a man simply waiting for his date to arrive, but there was an underlying watchfulness. His eyes darted around the room seemingly at random, as if searching for potential threats. He was obviously a man used to being in a tight spot and from everything Emma had read and witnessed, he had the wherewithal and intelligence to get out almost anything. Emma felt a pull toward him, like metal to a magnet. Get a grip, Swan, she admonished herself. Emma squared her shoulders and walked over to the table where Jones sat.
He looked up when she was still a few paces away. "You must be Emma," he said, smiling.
The report she had on him mentioned that he was English, but that could not have prepared for her name to be said by that voice. Emma felt herself smile in return. "Yes. Sorry I'm late, traffic."
"It's fine, love," he replied. He got up hastily, nearly causing his own chair to topple. Emma did not fail to notice him give her the once over as he moved to pull out her chair. She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. But that was nothing compared to the fire that raced up her arm when he accidentally brushed against her bare skin as she sat.
This made no sense. She couldn't be attracted to him. It was impossible. She was here to do a job. A job she was exceedingly good at. Sure, he had the brooding, dark good looks, the eyes and the voice, but she'd been in this position before. There was nothing that made Killian Jones different from all the rest of them. He was a thief, a damn good one. Nearly every major law enforcement agency in the country was after him. She had to ignore whatever this ridiculous feeling was and get on with her job. And she could. She just had to remember to breathe.
Emma got a momentary respite when their waiter came to take her drink order. She requested a glass of white wine and prayed he would be quick about it. In the meantime, she launched into her act.
"So what do you do, Killian?" she asked.
Jones flashed that killer grin at her. "Collect things, mostly. It's rather boring, actually. But I'm good at it and the money's good, so why not?"
Collect things, my ass, Emma thought. Only in a world where collect means steal. What kinds of things? Like art? I only ask because I may have failed my art history class in college," she said, trying to keep her tone conversational. She didn't want to spook him too soon.
"Oh, nothing as high class as that," he said. He leaned toward her conspiratorially. "I find most art to be rubbish, in point of fact. Like that one over there," he pointed at an abstract painting of the far wall of the restaurant, I mean, what is that? I know children with better art skills."
Emma followed his finger and laughed. It was pretty hideous. And probably cost a fortune. Who decided what was great art anyway? Emma cocked her head, looking at the painting from a slightly different angle. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe we're just not looking at it properly."
"My eyesight works just fine, thank you very much,"Jones said, seriously. When Emma turned to look at him, she was transfixed by his heated stare. She gulped. "Now, let's quit the small talk and get down to what's really going on here, Emma. I think we both know it has nothing to go with art."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, immediately defensive.
"Really, love? Are we just going to pretend that you're not here to apprehend me?"
Emma's eyes went wide. She was so incredibly screwed.
"Wh-wh-what?" she stammered. Emma really needed to get a hold of herself. There was no reason to panic...yet.
Killian (god, when did he become Killian in her head?) smiled softly. "You, love. Here to cart me off to the clink or whatever ridiculous name you Yanks give gaol these days. I tell you, worse people than you have tried. You're persistent, I'll grant you that."
Emma stared back at him. "You knew?"
"Of course I knew, darling. I wouldn't be here otherwise."
Emma knitted her eyebrows, frowning. "That doesn't even make sense. You knew I was coming for you and you showed up anyway? Who does that? Because if you want to go to jail, we can just leave now. I've got my car."
Killian smiled again, clearly amused. "Let's call it a tip of the metaphorical hat to a driven adversary."
"Don't patronize me, Jones."
"I meant no offense, love. This is a compliment of the highest order, I assure you."
"Funny, I don't feel very complimented right now."
"Would telling you that you're very beautiful gain me any respite?"
"Not really," she said, but in the dark corner of her psyche she was pleased.
"Ah, you say that, but your eyes say that you're lying. Care to rephrase?"
Emma rolled her eyes, she'd had just about enough of this. "And how would you know that?"
"Open book, love."
"You have got to be kidding."
Killian took her hand; she made no move to stop him. She didn't want to cause a scene, a restaurant was not the place for outing her profession. She couldn't risk losing Killian in the ensuing crowd. But if he wanted to play this game, then so could she. The fire that she'd felt earlier was back where he held her. It was distracting but she forced herself to focus.
"Closed off to the world," Killian was saying. "You've been abandoned, more than once I'd wager."
"How could you possibly know that?" she cut in.
"Takes one to know one, sweetheart."
That surprised her, but then again his jacket didn't have much in the way of personal information. "Who?" she asked, unable to stifle her curiosity.
"Doesn't matter, it was long ago," he said, quietly.
"So was mine, but that doesn't seem to be stopping you from prying."
"You're a prickly lass, aren't you?"
Emma decided to change the subject. "What are you even doing here, Jones? Talk me to death?"
"I was hoping to enjoy a meal with a gorgeous blond."
"And then what?"
"Whatever we want," he said, smirking. That smirk carried the promise of very dirty things Emma was sure.
"You really are full of yourself."
"And yet, you're still here."
Emma frowned. "You'd just...let me leave?"
Killian looked stricken. "Emma, I am wounded. If nothing else, I consider myself a gentleman."
"You must have an odd definition of gentleman."
"Stay, have dinner with me. What have you got to lose?"
Not much, in truth. Now that her ruse had been exposed, she had no reason to stay. She couldn't bring him in now. And yet, she had no reason to go either. Emma didn't get out much; dealing with people lead to emotional connections and those were things she studiously avoided. But there was no chance of that here, right? At the end of the night they'd go their separate ways and she'd never see him again. She could feel her resolve crumbling under his earnest blue eyed stare. An insanely handsome man wanted to have dinner with her? What kind of madwoman would she be if she said no?
"Fine," she said. Killian motioned to their waiter, who unknown to Emma had been hovering nearby for some time.
Once their orders were taken, Killian said, "Let's start over, shall we?"
Emma was all too willing to oblige him, the ability to actually talk about what she did a refreshing change.
A couple of hours (and bottle of wine) later, Emma was in an elevator with Killian Jones. She was under no allusions about what was about to happen. Killian had flirted with her shamelessly all through dinner. And she flirted right back. Keeping up her walls could be exhausting and just this once Emma decided to indulge herself. If that made her a bad person, then...well, she didn't really care in that moment because Killian was doing the most delicious things to her neck.
They stumbled out of the elevator and none too quietly made their way down the hall to Killian's room. He fumbled with the key card, trying to keep her flush against him at the same time. It was almost as if he was afraid she'd disappear. It gave her the strangest feeling of safety. It was so foreign that she almost missed it. But that wasn't what this was about, couldn't be what this was about. To distract her from her uncomfortable feelings, Emma nipped at Killian's earlobe trying to get his attention. He growled low in response, finally pushing the door open.
He pulled her in with him, backing her into the door as soon as it closed. He kissed her languidly, his hands sliding over every part of her that he could reach. Emma dropped her clutch, threading one hand through his hair, while the other pushed off his suit jacket. When she started pulling his shirt out of his pants, he stopped her.
"What's your hurry, love?" he asked, nipping at her ear. That voice, low in her ear like that, was on the verge of driving her mad.
"Killian," she murmured, not really sure how or even if she could explain.
But as before he seemed to read her with ease. "Shh, it's alright, love. But a woman like you deserves to be savored and I intend to do just that. Let me?"
Emma stared into his eyes for what felt like forever. She could see no game, no ploy in the ocean like depths. He genuinely wanted her. And in that moment, Emma wanted him too, consequences be damned. Slowly, she nodded. His smile could have put the brightest star in the sky to shame. A second later, he was kissing her again. Emma went back to work on his shirt and tie, but more slowly this time. If this was going to be their only night together, then she was going to enjoy it.
Finally, Emma pushed his shirt off his shoulders and watched it fall to the floor. The low light from the lamp was barely enough to make out the contours of his chest. Annoyed, Emma grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the bed. The brighter lamp on the nightstand gave her what she needed, an unimpeded view of the man before her. His chest was covered in soft black hair and to Emma's surprise, a few scars. It was obvious that he was strong and fit as well as gorgeous. And tonight he was hers.
The moment only lasted for a second, then she was back in his arms. He reached behind her and unzipped her dress, planting open mouthed kisses along her collarbone. The sensitive skin there would be red from his scruff in the morning, but Emma didn't care. It only added to the heady sensation that was slowly coiling in her gut. Carefully, Killian pulled down the straps of her dress and let it fall past her hips to the floor. He stepped back to take in her near naked form; the only thing remaining to her was her panties. And her insane heels. Emma started to remove them, but Killian grabbed her hand.
"Leave those on," he murmured.
"Make me," Emma shot back.
Killian smirked at her lecherously. He yanked her to him, devouring her mouth with his. Emma snaked her hands between them and went to work on his pants. His belt came loose in her hand and she pulled it free of its loops. She could feel the large bulge in his pants through their remaining clothes; Killian growled again when she palmed him through the offending fabric. In retaliation, he pushed her down on the bed and started taking off his pants.
"I was doing that," Emma pouted.
"You were being a bloody tease, love."
"I thought you were intent on savoring this," she replied.
"Oh, I am. You're about to find out just how much."
Shoes, socks, and pants all found their way to the floor. Emma was slightly nonplussed to discover that he wasn't wearing anything underneath his pants, although she really should have pegged him as the type. His shaft bobbed a little as he straightened, making her mouth water. He was bigger than she'd initially imagined. He placed one leg between hers as he lowered himself over her, his gaze full of all the positively sinful things he wanted to do to her. She pulled his mouth to hers, delving her tongue into his mouth. She groaned as she felt his hand ghost her hardened nipple. Just the slightest touch sent shocks straight to her core. Emma writhed under him, desperate for any kind of friction. Killian seemed intent on denying her, however. He abandoned her lips and moved down her torso, finally taking one nipple into his warm mouth, while kneading its twin. Emma's hands flew to his head, intent on keeping him there.
As Killian switched his attentions, he slipped his now free hand down her stomach to the apex of her thighs. Emma gasped as she felt his fingers push aside her panties and slip into her wet folds. He teased her mercilessly, studiously ignoring the one place that she desperately wanted him. It had been so long since she had been touched like this that Emma already felt like she was going to burst. Killian saw her frustration and grinned wolfishly. Finally, he slid one finger then another into her wet heat. Emma bucked her hips into his hand, needing him to move. He obliged her, planting a sweet kiss on her stomach. As he moved, Killian curled his fingers eventually finding that one spot that nearly drove her mad. Emma felt the pressure build, fisting the sheets in each hand, eyes squeezed shut.
Killian wasn't having that, however. "Look at me," he commanded softly.
Emma shook her head, nearly incoherent. It wasn't until his fingers stopped moving that Emma finally looked.
"There's a good girl."
Emma shot him a dirty look, the frustration evident on her face. But he rewarded her obedience by rubbing her clit in circles with his thumb. Her head started to fall back, but she wrenched it back up, suddenly afraid that he would stop touching her. He grinned at her, pleased she had caught on. His fingers started sliding in and out of her tight channel again; he sucked her clit between his lips. His eyes never left her face. Emma's breathing grew labored as the pressure mounted again. Finally, she could take it no more; her back arched and she cried out as her orgasm crashed over her. She shivered with the aftershocks as Killian removed his fingers, licking them clean as she watched through heavy lidded eyes.
"You're bloody gorgeous when you come," he said. "I knew you would be."
His voice seemed designed to go straight to her core; she had barely come down from her orgasm and she wanted more. She needed to feel him inside her. Emma reached for him, capturing his lips with hers. She moaned into his mouth as she tasted herself on his tongue. In the tangle of limbs, she managed to shimmy out of her panties, leaving her completely naked except for her heels. Then, to Killian's complete surprise, Emma flipped them over on the bed, so she was straddling his hips. For good measure, she rotated her hips, rubbing her folds against his shaft. Killian groaned, his eyes falling shut.
Emma bent over his chest, her mouth next to his ear. "Look at me," she whispered; her tongue flicking out to lick the shell of his ear. He shivered under her.
"Minx," he ground out.
Emma just smiled knowingly as she straightened. She raised her hips and gripped his shaft between her fingers. She stroked him firmly, running her thumb lightly over the head. Killian bucked his hips into her hand, clearly frustrated. Making him wait was as much torture for her as it was for him, but she wanted hear him beg for it.
"Emma," he finally gasped. "Please, love."
Emma positioned herself over him and slowly lowered herself onto him. She kept her eyes locked with his, as he filled her inch by delicious inch. There was an emotion in his eyes that Emma was afraid to acknowledge; she tried to look away, but he raised his hand to her chin forcing her to stare back. Finally, it became too much for her and she kissed him, desperate to distract both of them from what they felt. Instead, Emma focused on the sensations as she moved over him. She began to ride him in earnest, squeezing him with her inner muscles every few strokes. That had the desired effect, Killian so lost in pleasure that his eyes closed.
Emma felt the tension start to coil in her stomach again. She placed her hands flat on Killian's sweat slicked chest trying desperately to gain some leverage. His hands had fallen to her hips, where he gripped her so tightly that there would be bruises. Seeing his own need reflected in her eyes, Killian rolled them over so that he loomed over her, arms braced on either side of her head. He thrust back into her hard, taking her the way he had wanted to from the moment he saw her all those weeks ago. She clung to him, incoherent speech falling from her lips as her inner walls nearly squeezed the life out of him. He thrust through her orgasm, joining her over the edge moments later, crying out her name.
Killian collapsed on top of her, exhausted. Gradually, he became aware that his weight would probably crush her, but when he tried to roll off, Emma wrapped her arms around him, reluctant to let him go. Rather than fight her, he merely laid his head on her chest, falling asleep in seconds. Emma had just enough energy to kick off her heels before joining him in sleep.
When Emma woke up hours later, it was dark. Killian must have turned off the lights at some point. They were both still naked, but the bedspread covered them from the chill of the room. Why were hotels rooms always so cold? Killian's arm was wrapped securely around her waist, his body pressed up against her back. That feeling of safety was back, as much as Emma tried to ignore it. There couldn't be anything between them, she knew that. He was a thief, for god's sake. And she in her own way represented the law. There was only one thing for her to do, no matter how much it nearly killed her to do it.
Carefully, Emma slipped from his arms and climbed from the bed. She located her clothes, dressing as silently as she could. Carrying her shoes, Emma somehow managed to find her clutch somewhere near the door. She opened it, wincing at the snapping sound. Once she found what she needed, she padded back over to the bed. Silently praying that Killian was sound asleep, Emma looped one cuff around a piece of the head board, closing it securely. For long seconds, Emma stared at his peaceful sleeping form, an internal war raging in her mind. Finally, she carefully picked up one wrist and snapped the cuff around it. To her surprise, Killian did not stir.
Emma breathed out a sigh of relief. She picked up her shoes again and padded for the door. She nearly made it.
"If you wanted to cuff me, darling, all you had to do was ask," he drawled, sleep coloring his voice.
Emma closed her eyes briefly. She thought about just bolting without saying anything, but she knew that she couldn't. When she turned, Killian was bathed in the soft light of the lamp. It made what she was about to say infinitely more difficult; she would be able to see his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Killian," she said.
He looked confused for a second, then she saw the realization in his eyes. "You'd do this to me now?" he asked. She could hear the hurt in his voice and it nearly broke her.
"I have to, Killian, it's my job," she said, knowing that was only part of the reason. This would be easier if he hated her, she hoped.
"Sod your job," he spat. "You felt something last night, I know you did."
"Am I? That tough girl exterior may fool the rest of the world, but not me. Now uncuff me, before either of us says something we'll regret."
"I can't, Killian," she said. "I can't live that life again. I won't." With that, she turned and fled the room.
"SWAN!" he roared, as she ran for the elevator.
Emma furiously wiped the tears from her eyes when she finally reached the safety of her beloved Bug. Killian had been right, she had felt something. The suddenness and intensity of it scared the daylights out of her. Angry and upset, Emma threw the Bug into gear and headed for her apartment. The early morning traffic delayed her nearly an hour. Once there, she called her contact that the Boston police. Deep down though, she knew she was too late. By the time the police got there, Killian would be gone. He was a survivor.
So was Emma. She knew she couldn't stay in Boston, not anymore. After what she'd done, Killian would chase her. That was just how he was wired. Emma could handle it; she'd spent most of her life on the move. As she packed her meager belongings, she wondered where she should go first. And what would happen when she saw Killian Jones again. She smiled at the thought.