A/n: Finally it's here! I'll probably find a bunch of mistakes or things I hate tomorrow, but I worked all night on this after work with much caffeine so I could finish this and post it tonight, so I apologize ahead of time. Lol Thank you so so much to everyone still with me on this story! After I had my baby last year I totally lost the muse for this one and I've lost the muse for most writing lately, as well as trying to plan and work on an original project, so I wasn't sure if I would ever complete this but all your favorites and follows and lovely reviews and messages to my tumblr account finally kicked my butt into gear and inspired me to finish the final chapter, so thank you so so so so much for not giving up on me or this story.
For those of you who haven't read this in a while, remember that this is a complete AU. I began this story well before the 3rd season of OUAT aired and I had no knowledge of how the show would show Neverland or Henry's kidnapping or CS's relationship, so all the characterization and romance between Hook and Emma during Neverland and beyond are my own. Just a quick disclaimer so I don't get confused reviews about how something is out of character or not like it was with the show. ;)
Again, thank you. This fic was my baby and I really did enjoy writing it, even if I lost inspiration for a while, so thank you for all the reviews and faves and follows and I appreciate you all so much! I hope you enjoy the final chapter!
Love Part 2
She wondered if she'd have his blue eyes. Or maybe she would be a he, with hazel, ever-changing eyes like hers and his infuriating smirk that pulled at his mouth every time he thought he was just so funny.
Emma yanked off the paper tabs and the test spilled onto the counter, not bothering to read the brief but obvious instructions before taking the test – quick, before she could change her mind – and setting it back into its spot next to the sink.
She hadn't had time to think about that stuff with Henry, or closer to the truth, she hadn't wanted to think about it. It hurt too badly to think about something that she'd never get to experience. But she stared at the nasty little cardboard box in her hand now and she couldn't help the curious thoughts from forming, even briefly.
She needed him here.
The startling thought nearly shook her free of her nerves as she stared at the potentially fate-sealing stick on the bathroom counter. She interlocked her fingers to keep them from trembling and sat down onto the toilet seat, crossing a leg over her thigh and bobbing her foot impatiently.
How long had it been? Thirty seconds? A minute?
Emma took a deep breath and counted to five in her head, scrunching her closed lids further shut. Come on, Emma, you can do this. She sucked another measured, cleansing breath and with every ounce of bravery she had in her at that moment, she opened her eyes.
She promptly groaned when she saw that pesky spinning hourglass on the tiny, digital screen of Storybrooke's top of the line pregnancy test. Top of the line, my ass. She tossed the empty box into the trash impatiently while she waited, as if it were the box's fault her heart still thudded in her chest like a hammer and again, she was hit with the strange need to hold someone's hand or bury her face into someone's chest – his - or verbalize how stupid and scared and confused she felt about all of this. She caught the words "get results 5 days before missed period with 99% accuracy" and started doing the math in her head. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had her period, much less figure out if not getting it in Neverland was a good sign or a bad one. In a place where time practically stood still, she reasoned she could be forgiven for being clueless as to when her time of the month was supposed to happen once she got back into the real world.
She picked the box back up out of the trash and began reading the graph on the side of the box that explained how accurate the test would be the further away the days were. Even without the right dates, they'd been in Neverland for four months Neverland time and it'd been just over three weeks since they'd had sex. If she were pregnant from one of their… liaisons (if that were even possible), it seemed more and more likely that she could find out accurately now.
Emma swallowed hard, pushing away the fear and voices saying you can't be a mother. They didn't know what they were talking about anyway.
She took another deep, shaky breath and reached for the test on the counter when a sharp, insistent knock downstairs interrupted her and with a strange rush of relief, she decided that maybe she could wait to find out just a few more minutes.
Hook shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, each second that passed causing his fist to tighten around the paper-covered stems of the small bouquet of flowers that he held as he waited for the door before him to open – hoping that it would open.
"Jones, you're being a bloody fool. She made herself quite clear that she needed time."
He waited thirty seconds, then a minute.
She won't answer.
She knows it's you, she doesn't want to see you.
She's probably got someone in there with her. She has him back now, you know.
You were only good enough for her in Neverland because she needed someone to comfort her, but what would a woman like her want to do with a pirate like you in her realm?
He did his best to ignore the string of hurtful words running through his mind and lifted his hand to knock again, his knuckles barely brushing the door when it opened.
Her look of shock left little to the imagination of whether she wanted to see him or not, but before he could utter a humiliated word of apology for throwing himself at her doorstep, he was being hauled into her arms and he could have sworn his heart stopped beating. Her cheek pressed snugly into his chest and her arms only tightened around his body as he let himself be pulled as closely as she liked and all at once, all was well in the world. Gods, but he was a fool in love, but he loved her more than his bruised pride.
"How did you know?"
She mumbled the words (almost too quietly to hear) into their hug and his pulse jumped. He'd waited so long to hear that sound again, to feel her in his arms holding him like she never wanted to let go – like she loved him. He breathed her name back to her, too surprised to say anything else. His hand (still clenching the flowers) crept up her back instinctively until it rest against her silky hair and then as suddenly as it started, she pulled back and the warmth was gone, leaving him feeling empty and incomplete, no matter how absurd it was.
"What are you doing here?"
He smiled warmly, hoping his expression looked more confident than he felt. "Were you expecting someone else?"
His heart was still beating a pace faster from the impromptu embrace, yet still, he subconsciously glanced behind her as he remembered the look on her face when she had seen Baelfire alive and well. The astonishment and relief in her expression had been branded into his memory, the way he had pulled her into his arms and held her tight like he never wanted to let go. He hadn't seen Emma's face, but he could only imagine what he'd feel if he saw Milah back from the dead and selfishly, he was glad that he hadn't seen the probable relief and love and hope that had likely been etched there.
He was only beginning to realize that he couldn't bear it if he knew that to be true. (Part of him hated himself for his selfishness, another part of him held hope that perhaps she felt the same way.)
"No. I just… didn't expect to see you," she paused, chewing the inside of her cheek and leaning against the doorframe nervously. "How are you, Killian?"
"You say the words as if you haven't laid eyes on me in months, love," he commented lightly, still unable to keep from grinning.
These past weeks had felt dark without her, without the company of the others as he went back to once again feeling like an outsider, a villain in the little town. He had been blinded by it, feeling around for something to catch his fall until he realized that it could only be her.
"Well, after living together on a ship for four months, a couple weeks kind of feels like a while," she replied with a soft, half-smile as she glanced back down at the ground. "Besides, it's been a-" she laughed humorlessly, shaking her head, "-a crazy couple of weeks."
"Aye, that it has." Killian paused, sorting his thoughts, picking through them carefully, keeping and discarding them until he noticed her frown slightly, her brows furrowing in confusion at his prolonged silence. "Why haven't you come by, love?"
She immediately assumed a closed off posture, straightening slightly and crossing her arms over her chest with a stiff nod. "I've been busy. With Henry and the station, it's been-"
"That's not what I meant, love."
Emma pursed her lips. "We've talked about this," she began, sounding far too apologetic for his liking. "Things are still hectic, I have to be there for Henry and it feels selfish to think about myself when-"
"Why is it selfish to pursue happiness for yourself, Swan?" Neither of them spoke for a beat. "You said you missed me," he went on tentatively, a rush of confidence spurring him on by the hesitance in her eyes that he recognized all too well as her trying to talk herself out of something – out of him. "I assumed that negated any prior arrangements," he forced a lopsided grin, only for it to falter at her responding sigh.
"There's so much happening right now. I just need some time to… to see how I feel about us – outside of Neverland."
"And how did you feel about me in Neverland, Emma?" he interrupted, stepping in closer, boxing her in, allowing only inches between them (he never had been one for personal space - a flaw of his really, though he rarely heard complaints).
"It's a simple question, love."
She crossed her arms again but made no move to step back or push him away. "And it doesn't have a simple answer."
Undeterred, Killian moved in even closer, his steely blue eyes locking with her own that were now a brilliant shade of gold and green. "You mean to say you need time to decide if you would rather have me or Baelfire," he mused calmly and without bitterness.
Emma Swan was a human being entitled to her feelings, whatever they may be. He had never been told exactly why her and Bae- Neal's relationship had ended, only assumed that he had been involved in matters that led to Henry's adoption and Emma's general distrust, but he couldn't be sure. Perhaps they were already together again. Perhaps she would never have been with him in Neverland had she known that he was alive… He would rather know now than see them gallivanting around town with the boy, a happy family that he had no place even hoping to belong. It would be less painful to know now.
"You can say it, Swan. No need to lie to me like a child who can't handle the truth. I'm a grown man who prefers he not be toyed with."
"This isn't about Neal. This is about…" she ran a clawed hand through her hair and looked up, rolling her head back for a moment before rolling it back, eyes fixing on his. "You don't understand, Killian, I don't get good things. I'm the Savoir. I save towns from villains and curses, I don't get to play house! Has this thing with us even been good?"
Her words hit him like a blow to the stomach. "Love-"
"No," she argued forcefully. "This whole thing has been comfort sex and angry sex and jealousy sex and it was good then but we can't solve our problem with just sex, Killian! We can't base a relationship off of just that."
"Was it really all that, Emma? Just a comfort? Just an angry romp?"
"Maybe," she breathed, worrying her bottom lip in between her teeth.
"No. I refuse to believe that because I remember other parts… passion," he inched closer, imploring, begging, "and hope," his lips were so close to her neck he could almost taste the saltiness of her skin (or maybe it wasn't her skin that tasted so pleasantly salty but had been the natural saltiness of the Neverland air that had done it… he'd like to find out). "And tenderness and lo-"
"Don't say it," she whispered, finally breaking the tension by placing a palm to his chest and pushing him back slowly, just enough so she could breathe again (he thought that must be it, because he could hardly find air when he stood so close).
"Emma, you can't say it was all bad."
"Maybe not," she swallowed hard, nodding. "But with Henry just starting to get back to normal and the town a wreck, and-" she held her hands up and closed her eyes, shaking her head before dropping them back to her side and meeting his gaze. "This is just too much." she sucked in a sharp breath, only glancing into his eyes for a split second before turning her stare back downwards, her gaze momentarily landing on the bouquet of flowers at his side. "Did you… bring me flowers?"
She shook her head again, this time with a puzzled look that only grew when she looked back up at Hook to see a slow blush heating his neck and cheeks.
"I'm not sure if it's customary in this world, but I took the chance," he shrugged again, scratching behind his ear awkwardly, a flower petal lodging itself in his hair.
She laughed a little and brushed her hand through and sent it fluttering to the ground, only succeeding in darkening the color in his cheeks and sending a small shiver of longing down his spine.
"It's customary, it's just been a while since I've gotten them."
"Perhaps it was well past time then," he said sincerely, then cleared his throat. "Besides, I wanted to see how you were, how the boy's been."
"Henry's… he's good. He's doing as well as can be expected, he just-"
"Doesn't care for me much," he finished for her with a firm, accepting nod.
Emma looked startled. "I was going to say he just needs some time to adjust. And he doesn't hate you. Henry was kidnapped on a crazy island by two psychos and Lost Boys and a fucking shadow, to find out a man that last he heard, tried to kill his new grandfather helped rescue him. It's a lot to take in for a kid, but he'll come around."
Killian was less than convinced but he nodded nonetheless. "Aye, I imagine so."
"Come on, Killian. If you're staying in Storybrooke, it's not like he'll never trust you, he just needs time. He hasn't seen you much since we've gotten back."
His face softened with affection. "I'd like to change that. I'd like to see you, love."
"Storybrooke isn't my home, Emma. But with you here, it could be." He looked into her eyes imploringly, hoping, begging her to see his sincerity, to feel it emanating from his very heart, to know that every moment since their arrival that he had been unsure of her care for him, of their future, had been nigh torturous. "I'm tired of holding back, I'm tired of waiting in the shadows for another to come take you away from me." He spoke quickly before he could convince himself he was a mad man – he very well could be, but he'd let Emma decide because he couldn't keep it inside any longer. "Because I don't want anyone to ever take that place in your heart unless it's me." He paused, knowing that he must look as lost and scared as he felt, but he was beyond caring. A man unwilling to fight- "I love you, Emma."
She stumbled a step back, her lip wavering until she bit down onto it hard. "Killian…" She shook her head, looking as if she were about to deny what he had said or try to convince him that he was mistaken, that he hadn't felt the tug of her in his heart for months now.
"Is it so bloody difficult to believe that someone could love you, Swan? I think it's as terrifying for you as loving someone yourself."
"Killian," she bit her lip hard, her face unreadable but thick with emotion. "You said it yourself, we were both under a lot of stress in Neverland, we needed some sort of relief, and-"
"Do you really think that I felt nothing from that first night that I took you into my bed and made love to you? Trust me, Darling, we have fucked, and thoroughly, but I've given up on trying to convince myself that what we did that night was anything but passionate and slow and it wasn't because we wanted a warm bed or the release, it was because we needed each other. I needed you, Emma. I haven't stopped."
He stared at her for a long moment as she stood, dumfounded (or terrified or repulsed, he wasn't quite sure based off of the blank, baffled look on her face – he could always read her until it came to these moments where every instinct he had about her suddenly felt unreachable and wrong). Killian finally sighed and weakly offered her the flowers and she seemed stunned as she gingerly reached for them, her eyes widening as she took in the small gift and he was surprised to see something like touched and warmth dawn on her expression.
He had picked wildflowers that grew around Storybrooke and mingled them with the flowers he had bought. He had grieved over the process of a suitable offering like a boy courting his first lass. Simply buying the flowers had struck him as inexcusably apathetic, yet the natural foliage of Storybrooke left something to be desired in comparison to the beautifully crafted bouquets the shops offered, so he had compromised.
Killian watched, waited, hoped for a few seconds that dragged on into a minute and finally he forced out a thin smile. "Based on your silence, I gather that you've made your decision." He continued with a cold formality that felt wrong to use with Emma. "I'll take my leave then, love. I just had to know."
Emma jolted, leaning in as he stepped back, and Killian stilled, hesitant to go if there was even a chance...
"Had to know what?"
"If there was a reason for me to stay," he replied frankly, fighting the urge to brush her shoulder with his fingers, to calm and comfort, to show her how he felt – but the choice was hers to make, not his. "It appears I was mistaken." He gave her a final, firm nod, watching her face fall and he felt his heart begin to break as he turned to leave.
"Killian, wait," she reached for his shoulder and as he turned, once again they were far too close for normal conversation and his heartbeat thrummed against his ribcage. "You don't have to go."
Gods, she needed to stop. If she didn't want him, if she didn't feel as he so clearly felt, why couldn't she stop prolonging his pain and end it? He was certain she must be a siren because he'd never felt so frustrated and concurrently under someone's spell than he did now. How else could she leave him feeling so complete one moment and so utterly broken and useless the next?
"I don't plan to force my affections on you. Storybrooke could easily be my home if you wished it, but if you wish to move on from the time when your life had me in it, then I will grant you that as well."
"Maybe I don't want you to."
His heart skipped a beat and it took every ounce of self-control to keep himself from taking her into his arms and kissing her in her doorstep. "Then what do you want, love?"
Her face crumpled and she sucked in a shaky breath, cupping a hand over her mouth. "God, I don't know. I don't know anymore."
A vague look of concern etched into his previously hardened face. "Are you alright?"
"No," she replied in a small voice and her lower lip wobbled again. "God. No, I'm not. None of this okay, this all sucks, Killian. Everything since we got back."
His chest clenched, and he had to force all manner of horrifying possibilities of what could have happened out of his mind so he could respond, reaching for her hand, his thumb absentmindedly stroking hers. She didn't stop him, instead, she curled her fingers around his.
"What is it? Talk to me, please, Emma."
She sniffed and wiped her eyes self-consciously, standing up straighter. "We should talk. You have a minute?"
Emma held the door open and then followed him inside as he looked at her meager dwelling, a small apartment he had heard that she had obtained shortly after her return so she was no longer living with her parents. It was no castle for a princess but neither was it the paltry captain's quarters of the Jolly Roger. Once they were in her living room, she leaned against the kitchen counter and motioned for him to sit on the sofa. He did so, patiently awaiting an explanation, all the while searching her face for clues of what could be troubling her beyond the status of their relationship.
Henry? The town? Perhaps this was when she would tell him about Baelfire or some other terrible curse that had befallen them.
"Are you alright, love?"
He waited for her to continue.
"I mean, I think I am," she went on quickly, wrapping her arms around her and rubbing her forearms finally meeting his eyes. "How does sex work in Neverland?"
She said the words in a jumble, so rapidly that Killian wasn't quite sure that he had heard her correctly. His eyes widened doing little to hide his shock. "I'm afraid I don't follow." He quirked a smile, if only due to his utter confusion. "You didn't seem to have a problem understanding the mechanics."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "No, the mechanics I'd say we had down pretty well," she grimaced.
He resisted the urge to smirk and ask her if she had meant to compliment him on his amorous skills. The grim look on her face and the hard line of her jaw told him that she was in no mood for playful banter and truth be told, neither was he, not if it meant continuing dancing around their feelings like children.
Emma paced the room for another moment that dragged by like minutes before releasing the lip she had been chewing and taking a deep breath.
"How does pregnancy work in Neverland, Killian?"
He barely got the astonished question out when her face crumbled again and she slumped into the sofa beside him, head in hands.
"You said time was stopped, no one aged, not Pan, not the Lost Boys. I thought that meant we were safe but it's been a few weeks and I haven't- I mean I-"
Killian paled and his stomach did a flip flop as he wrapped a tentative arm around her shoulders. "Are you saying that you are-" He couldn't find the words to get the rest of the sentence out.
"No, no, I'm not," she assured him hastily and then shook her head with a feeble whimper, leaning into his touch until she finally rest against his chest, fingers curled into his jacket for like she was holding on for dear life. "I mean, I don't know yet. I don't know."
Gods, he'd never heard her sound so broken, so lost, he hated that she was most likely assuming that she would be alone, that he would leave her, even after all he'd said.
His heart pounded so hard in his chest she was sure that she could feel it through his coat, but he only held her tighter, dropping a dazed (terrified) kiss onto the top of her head.
"Perhaps we should talk, love."
The digital screen on the stick in her hand read clear as crystal, the black words flashing on the screen and then freezing like an answered prayer. She wasn't pregnant. She wasn't pregnant. She wasn't pregnant. She didn't have to do this again. She didn't have to do this alone again. She wasn't pregnant. She wasn't pregnant. She wasn't pregnant.
Relief washed over her in waves, air whooshing out of her lungs as her gaze remained glued to the screen, her eyes burning with the distant prick of tears. Since the thought had occurred to her, she'd felt like the world was closing in, that of course this was going to happen to her, of course she'd be so stupid to let it. Get yourself knocked up by a guy you've been with a few months - again. Smart, Emma. Even if he had wanted to raise a baby with her, should they? Could they? Seconds and minutes and hours had passed since the thought occurred to her and her choice felt like it had been slipping further and further away, and now, just like that, she had a choice again.
A twinge of guilt pulled at her, deep in her belly. Guilt for not wanting to be pregnant, guilt for wishing it away because she was already so overwhelmed with the life of a Savior and raising Henry and taking care of the town. Guilt for having the briefest thought that if she was pregnant, she'd be like that lonely 17 year old girl again who couldn't take care of a baby, not when she had so much on her shoulders. Guilt for believing that Killian wouldn't have wanted a thing to do with them. And for a beautiful moment, with the flashing of two, little words on a stick, the burden was gone. She didn't have to choose with a weight of another life on her shoulders, the choice was hers alone, time was on her side again and it was freeing.
(She wasn't going to cry, she wasn't.)
"Emma?" She felt a hand on her shoulder, a warm and gentle firmness, and she let herself relax into it. "What is-"
"It says negative," she interrupted in a blown out breath.
It felt so good to say it.
Emma felt light again. Pressure, pain, choices – they were gone. She could focus on Henry, she could focus on her relationship with her parents, she could focus on being sheriff of a damn town full of fairytales, and everything else that had seemed so heavy was gone. She could focus on Hook, on whatever they had, if they had anything at all (but god, she was realizing harder and faster that she wanted it, she wanted him).
She must have been lost in her thoughts for a few seconds too long because Killian cleared his throat uncomfortably and it took her a moment to realize that he was unfamiliar with pregnancy tests or if negative was a good or bad thing for it to say.
"It means I'm not pregnant," she elaborated.
He uttered a soft 'ah' sound and nodded otherwise mute. His eyes lowered from the stick to the counter. The silence was palpable but nice, that and surreal and it threw her. She wasn't used to someone being there for her, especially not when her memories of the last time she'd been in this position were still so fresh and raw. Without warning, he rubbed her shoulder with his good hand, kneading and pressing in a solid, soothing way and any weak dismissal of the whole pregnancy scare situation that she'd been planning on voicing vanished along with the breath in her chest.
She wondered why. What made him care? What made Captain Hook, a man who used to be so cold, so angry, so revenge driven become so incredibly tender at the drop of a hat? And to her? Why her, why did she deserve this?
But she'd seen it, she'd seen the change, the goodness in him, the love. It didn't make sense, she couldn't make sense of it any more than she could make sense of why she was the Savior or why her parents were Prince Charming and Snow White or why they worked so hard to make her feel loved when the rest of her life had been so god damned void of it, or why Henry bonded with her so immediately or any of this. Her life hadn't made sense in over a year now and in the most amazing way and maybe, just maybe it wouldn't all come crashing down around her.
He squeezed again, sensing the tension, and she wondered if he knew how much that simple, wordless gesture meant to someone who was used to being alone.
"Perhaps it's-it's best this way, love. It wouldn't have been… it's better this way. For now."
Emma's mouth went dry and again she was at a loss for words, but this time, it wasn't with a feeling of warmth but with fear.
Perhaps? For now?
His word choice, though likely un-thought-out and poorly chosen was terrifying.
"Of course it's best this way. A baby? You and me?" Her tone was too close to a laugh for him not to notice.
She looked over at him for the first time in nearly two minutes and caught his expression just in time to see the hurt that flit across his features. His jaw tightened and his brows furrowed as he took in a slow deep breath and nodded.
"I admit, it hadn't been the initial plan," his hand slid down her arm and his fingers threaded with hers. "But I wouldn't have deserted you, love."
The sincerity in his voice, in those deep, endless blue eyes was crippling and god she needed she run. He made her want to run because she knew that for once in her life, with him, she didn't have to and it was too much to hope for, too much to believe could possibly be the truth.
"I don't want that, Killian." She dropped her arm, feeling his flinch like a pang in her chest. "I don't want to rope someone into something that wasn't the plan. I'm not in the business of being someone's burden, Killian, never have."
No one wants to take me on as a burden anyway, buddy. You don't know what you're signing up for.
Killian huffed and shook his head, pulling away and bracing his hand against the bathroom sink in front of him, head hanging low before straightening abruptly.
"What do you want, Emma? I tell you that I'll stay with you in Storybrooke and you say you need more time, I presume to decide if I am worthy of your affections."
She recognized the way his expression contorted, the catch to his breath, the glint to his eyes, and with a sharp twinge to her gut she realized all over again that she hated this. She hated this dance around feelings, the push and pull, the frustration because they were both was so damned scared of letting someone in. Because he already was. Because he had always known her, almost better than she knew herself and the way they kept taking turns pushing each other away was making her sick yet she kept doing it, over and over and over again.
"I say that I'd want you regardless if you were with child and you act as if I'm simply accepting you out of charity, bloody hell, Emma, loving you isn't a burden!" he snapped, admitting his feelings for the second time, looking distraught as he turned back towards her, taking a desperate step closer and reaching for her arm, slowly, gently drawing her closer.
There it was again. Love.
"And I couldn't say it before. I didn't want to allow myself but you possessed me back in Neverland, Swan, entirely and irrevocably, like a siren with a spell that I never want to be free of. You were never a burden," he breathed. "Brilliant and beautiful, intoxicating, perplexing," he lauded earnestly; his teeth slid over his lower lip for a moment before disappearing once more as he moved a stray lock of hair that had fell next to her left eye, stepping in close. "And infuriating, maddening, bloody petrifying, but never a burden."
This was it.
He loved her and she loved him and this was it, this was it. No more running, no more denying herself, denying him.
Her breath caught in her throat and again, just like in Neverland, just like so many times before in an impulsive, delicious, amazing blur of hands and hair and mouths (because it was just so plain right that they never had to think about it) they were kissing each other.
That's the only way that she could describe it, kissing each other, because she wasn't sure if she had leaned in first or he had punctuated his speech with his lips on hers.
(It had happened too fast and too desperately for it to matter.)
Her arms draped around his neck and on his shoulders, pulling, urging him down, closer until there was no longer any space between them and she could feel every curve and line of him forming into her with a craving and a desperation that she didn't plan on denying. She needed more, needed this, needed him. She needed to breathe his air and melt into him until she didn't know where she began and he ended, and based on the furious way that he was returning her kisses, grunting softly into her mouth, he needed it too.
Their chests pressed tight one into the other, their noses squashed against each other's cheeks and Emma made the first move to further deepen the kiss, sliding her tongue against his upper lip, tightening her hold around his neck. His touch was a livewire, electric, every kiss and caress feeling like it set her aflame. He opened to her without hesitation, always without hesitation when it came to loving her, and she couldn't stop the way she moaned at the warmth of his mouth if she wanted it. Their pace slowed, but only barely, as their tongues moved in that sensual, familiar dance that they had both been missing, hands beginning to roam in leisurely movements. He stroked up and down her side, creeping ever closer to the curve of her breast but stopping just short, while his false hand rest at her hip as he continued to explore her mouth, his weight against her pushing her back into the bathroom counter. Her own hand was opening and closing slowly in a bunch of thick, brown hair, sometimes tugging just a bit and other times scraping lightly into his scalp while the other wrapped around his back and pulled him in closer until her lungs burned, begging for oxygen while her mind pleaded just a little bit more.
They finally dragged themselves apart, but only just enough for their lips to part, foreheads touching as hot puffs of breath mingled with each other's until Killian chuckled softly.
"I wasn't aware this such a romantic location in your world, Swan," he teased, his gaze flitting over to the toilet for a moment before connecting once again with hers.
Emma couldn't help but join him, a small, ridiculous giggle slipping out (and it was better than crying or running, so she went with it) as her hand moved from his hair to smooth against the scruff of his cheek.
"I suppose this means I should brush up on your realm's customs."
She rolled her eyes and moved her arms back, tightening her hold on his neck and made her decision.
"Just take me to the bedroom, pirate."
Her words brought on an immediate change in his expression, eyes narrowing, sparkling with a new light as he growled from a place deep in his chest and lifted her off the ground. Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist. It took more than a few stumbling steps and a couple of quick directions to her room (at Regina's or not, there was no way they were doing it in Henry's room) before she felt herself being plopped onto the bed with an 'oof' and a slight bounce and then his body was covering hers, curving yet again with every soft curve of hers like he was made for it. His weight felt perfect. Maybe it was because she'd let go of her fears (or at least she was working on it) that his extra weight didn't feel at all suffocating or even dangerous or exciting as it usually did, but instead it was comforting and warm and firm in all the right places and safe and a damned relief to feel him hovering above her as he dove back in for her mouth like he couldn't stand for there to be space between them.
They shared control of the kiss, taking turns delving deeply into the others' mouth, deciding where they liked to linger most, and for the first time taking the time to really find out. It was lazy and thorough but something about the slowness and the slight impatience that kept hands roaming, hips rocking ever so slightly made it downright erotic. She forgot that sex could be like this. One moment mouths were opened wide, tongues sliding in languid strokes and the next retreating to brush and nibble at lips and chins and jaws until the need became too much and the other took back the control and the kisses became rough again.
Emma broke away to trail pecks along his jaw until she reached his neck, her hand trailing down to rub him through his leathers simultaneously (how the man could wear the same outfit and always smell this damned amazing was a mystery she didn't particularly mind) and he moaned, freezing above her. She grew braver, more desperate as he allowed her to continue to stroke, her kisses easing into open mouth sucks and nips that were sure to leave marks.
"Gods," he cursed weakly and dropped his face into her shoulder as she continued to touch him. "You're amazing. Brilliant. Perfect," he gasped, thrusting in time into her hand and beginning to kiss her neck in suit, leaving matching purple bruises as his good hand found her breast and kneaded into it, thumb grazing over her clothed nipple.
"So are you," she panted, arching, needing to feel him more, needing to drown in him. She crooked her fingers into his trousers, fumbling for the laces, her fingers brushing the long, hardness of his cock sending tingles of anticipation running down her spine.
"Careful," he warned with a throaty chuckle. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Darling, but I believe I promised you I'd take my time," he reminded her in a low, sultry tone, nuzzling her chin so he could have better access to her throat, enjoying the quiet whine that vibrated there.
"Me too," she assured him, closing her eyes as he casually perused her neck with his soft lips. "But not now."
Killian groaned for more than one reason as her she stubbornly wrapped her fingers around him and drew him out of the constricting confines of his leather, running her curled hand up and down his length once, twice, and he froze, trembling.
"Henry will be back in an hour give or take." She stopped her movement abruptly. "Did you want to wait?"
He snarled and rolled his hips into her hand encouraging her to keep moving and captured her lips in a dominating kiss that let her know exactly what he wanted. "We'll just have to make the most of an hour then," he smirked and pushed hand away, sliding it to the side and pinning her wrist into the mattress as he went on to kiss her, moving down her body, traveling her neck, her shoulders where her top had slipped aside, burying her face in the swell of her cleavage murmuring into them how gorgeous she was.
Eager, Emma sat up slightly, helping him lift her shirt over her head, tossing it aside and going for his and despite all previous claims for wanting to take things slow, it took less than five minutes for the drab beige of her worn apartment carpet to be greatly improved by the added color of their discarded clothing.
She sighed in relief when she felt his naked body mold with hers once again, the coarseness of his chest hair tickling over her breasts, brushing her nipples while his length pressed hot and hard against her thigh.
She missed this. She missed him. She missed feeling like this, buzzing, on fire, every part of her tingling and impatient because she didn't feel complete without him beside her, on top of her, inside of her. She didn't know when it had happened or how, maybe sometime in Neverland, maybe it didn't truly happen until after.
He trailed his mouth down her body and she resisted the urge to fight for control and let him just take her. It was something that she had rarely done in her life, not in her work and certainly not in her love life but here she was, and it felt good to give herself over to him completely and trust that he wouldn't break her. He latched his mouth to the side of her breast, releasing with a sloppy noise only to clasp his lips around her nipple, swirling his tongue around it and pinching lightly with his teeth making her squirm and whine. After lingering a moment, cool air met the moistened flesh of her chest as he promptly gave the other breast the same attention, before kissing his way down the smooth, tensed plane of her belly.
"We may not have as much time as I wish, love, but I do plan on taking you like you deserve to be taken," he murmured into her skin, tongue flicking out as he made his way lower. "Slowly. Thoroughly." He kissed her stomach lightly. "Tasting you." He dropped a kiss to her hip. "Ravishing you," he groaned the word into her abdomen.
She didn't know how she could even find the words to argue with her, heart pounding, blood rushing south.
"Understands the concept of knocking, I presume."
"Shh, love," he crooned into her inner thigh, pausing to bite down gently. "We have plenty of time. Just," he nuzzled her clit with his nose and she gasped, legs jerking as she fought the urge to trap his head in between her thighs.
(God, she'd wondered about this for longer than she cared to admit imagining.)
Emma's heart raced with anticipation as he wrapped both arms underneath her ass encouraging her to rest her long legs over his shoulders, the jagged scars of his maimed wrist rubbing into her back making her shiver with anything but disgust.
She had watched him hesitantly touch his fingers to the brace, unsure if she wanted him to remove it. It hadn't been the first time that she had seen it, but the first time that he had truly allowed her to see him, to feel the whole of him, and without a moment's consideration she had moved her hand to join his in easing the thin, punishing straps of leather away, showing the marks of time across his arm and shoulder and back, taking time to kiss each one.
Killian settled his torso between her legs, lifting her slightly with his arms that were still firmly wrapped beneath her. If she had had any prior designs of teasing or holding back, they shattered when he licked a teasing stroke between her folds. She'd suspected he would be good at this for months, if only based off of the way that he kissed. She'd thought about it far too many quiet nights aboard the Jolly Roger, but god, the way he was lazily rolling his tongue over her clit over and over and over- pausing to lap between her folds again, only to return to suck at the sensitive nub and she was fumbling for purchase in the sheets and arching her hips off of the bed.
She mumbled something incoherent that sounded something like 'oh god, oh yes', reaching up to fondle her own breast, squeezing. He groaned, the sound vibrating through her as he opened his mouth like he was kissing her and continued to lick, thrusting his hips into the mattress for any friction that he could get, but focusing on her pleasure. He pulled back for a short moment, catching his breath and teasing at her folds with his tongue.
"Do you like that, love?"
"Yes," she whimpered. "Yes, like that," she whimpered in a frenzy, twisting her hand in a fistful of blankets as he surged back forward, his licks and sucks becoming more insistent, yanking her hips closer, nearly mashing her into his face. "Killian. Fuck."
He was relentless as he dipped his tongue inside of her, devouring as she thrust her hips at the hot, wetness of his mouth, rocking with every gentle drive of his tongue until he went back to her clit, swirling his tongue around the nub, all while massaging the curve of her ass, kneading, and molding it in his palm.
"You're so bloody wet," he moaned into her sex, the heat of his breath ghosting along her clit. "I could linger between your thighs for an eternity, Swan."
Her fingers clasped around a tuft of dark hair and held him closer (because as much as she enjoyed the throaty, lust-filled words that sent thrills through her entire being, she needed his mouth elsewhere). She was rocketing towards the edge. She swore he was keeping her just away from it on purpose as he continued to lap and suck. She felt herself just starting to fall, hanging from that precarious, glorious edge, whining "god, Killian, I'm so close" and his mouth was gone with a whispered "good" and she felt herself being yanked up and off of her back and onto her knees.
"Dammit, Killian," she muttered just before he pulled her back to his mouth, kissing her deeply as he maneuvered her into his lap, still sitting up so their chests rubbed against each other.
Their eyes met and she looked at him for the first time since he'd disappeared between her legs and he looked delicious. His hair was ruffled, sticking up every which way and his eyes were dark with lust but soft with tenderness, chest heaving in quick, needy puffs.
"I want you like this," He lifted her, poising her just above where he hard cock towards her. "I want to watch you."
Emma felt him impatiently nudge between her legs and she came crashing back to reality, jerking her hips back.
"Hold on. We can't."
She had just evaded one pregnancy scare, she wasn't going to take even a chance with another one (no matter how tempting he was).
"It's alright, Darling," he rasped, reading her mind and drawing her in closer, nipping at her neck. "I'll be careful, just let me have you, love."
She shook her head, forcing herself to ignore the aching throb of her core and place a flat palm against his chest. "Uh-uh. Wait a second," she replied, pushing him back playfully and reluctantly crawling out of his lap and swinging her legs over the edge.
"Swan? Where are you going?"
Emma walked across the room, swinging her hips and smiling back at him seductively as she struggled to remember where she'd put them. She had them somewhere. She remembered distinctly sneaking them between the toilet paper and a bag of chips in the grocery cart, a small enough box to hide (a 3-pack to be exact) and to tell herself that it was only for emergencies.
(Just in case she ever needed them. Not for anyone in particular. She was just being a safe, mature adult by keeping them handy.)
She would have just put them in her underwear drawer like a normal person, but then Henry had walked in and- her purse! Emma darted for the closet, snatching her bag that was hanging from the hook, digging into the package. She got back to the bed and would swear she broke records, straddling him where he was still sitting upright, confused and a bit perturbed by her sudden departure, welcoming her back, smoothly encouraging her back into place. She pressed a finger to his lips at his questions and protests, removing it only to kiss him.
"Shh." Emma broke the kiss to tear open the packet with her teeth. She reached down with her other hand, curling her hand around his cock, stroking him back to full mast until he groaned, rocking up into her hands. She moved her other hand down, pressing the lubed rubber to his tip. "It's a condom," she explained hastily in a hushed tone. "To keep me from getting-"
He thrust his hips upwards sharply, interrupting her explanation as she rolled the condom down to his base. "I'm familiar with the concept, love," Killian growled and yanked her closer, guiding her over him and without warning pushed her down and rocked back up, joining them with a combined chorus of moans from the both of them.
Emma gasped and buckled, every muscle turning to mush, sliding down until he was buried inside of her to the hilt. She grasped for him frantically, hands coiling around the back of his neck and into his hair as their eyes met and another dose of reality hit her. His eyes locked with hers, burning with devotion and adoration and she was felt frozen in place, flattened, like the wind had been kicked from her chest. This really was it, there was no going back and she didn't want to. She couldn't breathe, she really couldn't breathe. Her chest felt tight, her throat constricted as he gently drew her down so she was impossibly closer, every inch of them that could touch, touching, pressing into each other.
It was too much.
"I love you," she murmured into his lips, turning her head causing their noses to brush. She shifted her hips, lifting a few inches experimentally and then dropping, kissing him again, firmer this time and he moaned through closed lips, a sharp but drawn out sound, arms tightening around her waist at her words.
He didn't answer.
She didn't need him to.
He pushed his hips upwards in response, coaxing a whimper out of her. "Perfect," his breath shuddered as he spoke, resting his forehead against her. "So bloody perfect."
"You too," she agreed hoarsely, attaching her mouth to his lips and shifting her hips. "God, you too."
He closed his eyes, his face twisted into something like blissful agony as they moved together, her rising and falling and him meeting her in a slow, luxurious rhythm of two people that had all the time in the world. And it was gone. The fear, the doubts, vanished. If only for a few minutes, if only for that special moment between them of hot breath and colliding chests and stunted moans, alternating deep kisses and burying their faces into the other's neck. No fight for dominance, no banter, no struggle. They let everything fall away but the two of them, like that first time as he moved above her in time with the rocking of the ship on the calm Neverland waters, but so much more, every feeling deeper, every sensation intensified as the world exploded around her like fireworks. Their bodies slid and squelched and trembled, a thin sheen of sweat starting to coat their skin, breaths catching, only distantly aware of the mattress springs squeaking and protesting beneath them as their pace increased in time with their need.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
The phrase wouldn't stop ringing in her head like the beat of her pulse as the tight coil of pleasure gradually built in both of them until it became too much.
(He was always too damned much in the best ways.)
Emma fell first, in lazy, rolling waves, with her fingers twisted into his hair, while another clawed hand pressed into his back, marking him with light, reddened lines, crying out brokenly into his neck, choking out his name as everything faded in a hazy, orgasmic blur. He mumbled praises into her chest, pausing only to grunt and bite at her collar as she rode out the waves, determined to draw them out. She struggled to keep pumping her hips through the pleasure, ignoring her body's desire to droop in his arms, but then he was thrusting up into her faster, moaning with every breath, his hands frantically lifting her up and pushing her back down and she didn't have to.
"Come on," she whispered in his dampened hair, urging him on to his release like he had done for her so many times before. "God, Killian. Come for me, come on."
He cursed and panted raggedly, her words seemingly his undoing as he thrust a few more stunted drives into her and his body tensed. He punctuated his final thrust with her name, quickly followed by a shuddering groan, lips parting, fingers digging into her hip, marking her with small, half-moons.
They both stilled and it felt like time stilled with them, resting in the sweat-slicked embrace, unmoving aside from their heaving chests and trembling limbs and when they finally moved, he moved first, sucking a breath in through his nose and tilting his head to pepper her neck with featherlight kisses.
"I love you so much. I love you, Emma. So much."
"You too," she dropped his head into his shoulder, copying his pattern of kisses on his neck as her hands moved up and down his back, rubbing large, soothing circles. "Oh my god. I love you."
He sighed, content, as at last he leaned forward and carefully laid her on her back, slipping out of her. She helped him discard the used condom in a bin beside her bed and then they both rolled back into bed. Emma glanced halfheartedly at the clock on the nightstand beside them. Henry would be back in fifteen minutes. They had to get dressed, they had to go back to real life with work and responsibilities and magic and villains... She snuggled into him, kissing him lightly, smiling when she felt him kiss the top of her head.
Maybe just five more minutes.
Just five more minutes, just five more minutes. That's what she kept telling herself as she they held each other, her stroking the scattered hair of his belly while he rubbed her shoulder with his thumb, nothing breaking through the silence but the sound of their own breathing and the rustle of sheets. Still, Henry was due home almost any minute and he couldn't find them like this. She was just about to reluctantly suggest they at least put on some clothes when she felt him tense slightly and take a deep breath and she waited for him to speak.
"Please don't say that meant nothing, love."
His voice shook and his arm instinctively tightened around her and something about his uncertainty made her reply feel like the easiest thing in the world.
"I think maybe it's always meant something."
Five minutes must have passed by now. (She didn't want to look at the clock again.) They really had to get up, but she couldn't find it in her to pull away just yet. There was nothing else to say, they didn't need to anymore, the tangible emotions spoken through tangled limbs and casual touch filling the silence enough to speak for them.
Emma finally braced herself on an elbow, turning to look at him, hoping that he saw as much love and hope in her expression that she recognized in his. His face melted into a tender grin as he leaned in to kiss her and she realized that everything was different now. Maybe it always would be, but instead of fear, she only felt calm as his lips caressed hers, his hand cupping her face and stroking her cheek.
It was different, it was scary, but it would be okay.
Somewhere, deep down, she knew this would be okay and even if it wasn't, she was done holding onto her past and being afraid to trust, to try. She was done being lost.
Review one last time?