“I leave on Sunday,” she explained. “And once I get back to London, I will be taking a train to Cambridge because there are sixty-nine other cities in the country that aren’t the capital.”
Killian snorted out a laugh as he finished picking at the platter and gently pushed his plate away.
“You know I have visited a couple of them before, right?” he mused. “Manchester and Salisbury, I believe.”
“You’ve been to Salisbury before?” she asked, “Salisbury but not Cambridge?”
“I wanted to see Stonehenge,” he explained, giving a little shrug of his shoulders.
Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.
A/N: Well… it took more than a year, but at last I am back with an update to this story. I have to be honest, there were times in the last year when I doubted I would ever write a fic again. I felt that I had written the stories I wanted, and with my graduation and a new demanding job, I couldn’t find time to sustain the hobby. But with summer fast approaching, I have had a little time to look back and to search for inspiration. I knew I needed to finish this short story. I HATE that I have left it this long, but I hope, if you’ve liked it so far, you’ll reengage and revel in the conclusion of this sweet little fic. Re-reading the first two chapters, I remembered the mix of humor and pure fluff I was going for. It made me smile so big, and if part three does that for any of you, I will be more than pleased. Thank you so much for continuing on, and I hope you enjoy!
Six months later
Thump,thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, Thump. Unsteady, loud, and reminding him at every quiet moment of how much he was missing his Swan. This was the state of his heart since rising this morning, leaving the bed he shared with the woman he loved and clutching at cold sheets.
The action of waking up alone, while regrettable, hadn’t been the issue that set his cardiac system into full blown assault. Much as he hated to be parted from Emma, it was a somewhat natural occurrence. They weren’t always blessed with aligning shifts. Still, she had the day off today, and he’d imagined the morning going rather differently…
Facing the start of a new dawn with Emma in his arms made the hours to come more than bearable, and though it may mean fatigue down the line, he always began the day just as he ended it, reminding her of how remarkable she was. He’d start with soft touches, taking her in and tracing the lines of her lithe figure. His eyes swept over every part of her, from her golden hair to sun kissed skin and the freckles on her arms that became more prominent with warmer weather. At first, he’d always forget that this was now normal. He had to remind himself that she was real, and his process of remembering meant using all his senses, brushing kisses on her skin as she slowly came awake.
Welcome back my friend!!!!! I will tell you that I have missed you so so much and I squealed in delight when I saw this come up!!!!!! What a wonderful ending to this amazing story!!!! Thanks for writing it and for coming back to finish it!!!! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you so so so so much!!!!!!
Even after all they’ve been through, she’s still getting used to how easy it is to just be with him because they’re not just sex, the usual urge to run away after a night full of pleasure never crosses her mind when she’s with him. Set in an undefined timeline of the series.
The first rays of sunshine bring her back to consciousness as they break through the thin curtain, and she lets out a short breath because yes, they forgot to close the blinds again. She keeps her eyes closed and focuses on the steady beats of his heart under her palm, her fingers glide through his chest hair almost involuntarily.
He lets out a puff of air and she suppresses a smile, burying her face in his collarbone, inhaling his familiar scent laced with her strawberry shampoo.
She loves waking up before him (which is a rare occurrence considering his built-in alarm clock thanks to his Navy days that usually rouses him at the ass crack of dawn).
His arm then tightens around her (because he can always sense when she’s starting to wake up) and shift her closer, her bare chest molds to his sleep-warmed body. His right hand finds hers on his chest, engulfing it and stroking over her fingers with his thumb once, twice in a gesture that distinguishes him just as equally as his accent or the timbre of his voice.
He pulls her closer, his left arm sneaking under her hip and blunted wrist settling on her back, his nose nuzzling into her hair with a languorous inhale.
“Good morning,” she whispers, and gentle lips brush against her temple. “Sleep well?”
His nod is faint against her head, just enough that the stubble on his chin and jaw brush against her skin. She squirms a bit and feels him smile, his leg winding over hers to keep her still. His hand finds hers on his chest, tangling their fingers together. She tucks their intertwined hands under her chin, and his thumb frees itself to caress her cheek.
She never thought her favorite thing would be to wake up with Captain Hook.
She also never would have guessed he was a huge cuddler, all soft whispers and tender kisses in the morning. He likes everything quiet, unhurried, unstressed, and un-everything that used to define the typical chaos of a pirate captain’s life.
When they eventually make it out of bed and start the day, the teases and taunts, rolled eyes and flirty smirks appear. But she can’t fault him for something she actually enjoys now that she can freely return his innuendo-filled jokes. She likes that she’s the only one who gets to experience the Killian Jones that is underneath all the black leather and pirate swag.
She wiggles a little so his hold loosens, allowing her to scoot further up the pillow so their noses almost touch. His eyes stay closed, black eyelashes swept down and she slips her arm under his head and palm on his shoulder so now she’s the one holding him. He never resists her in the morning, snuggling into the space beneath her chin so his lips rest lazily against her collarbone. He gives her one small kiss when she threads her fingers into his already disheveled hair, her nails massaging his scalp in a perfected pattern that practically makes him purr.
Her lips press against his forehead, and he hums happily in response.
“Did you have a good dream?” she asks and his right arm over her waist moves, one fingertip trailing a line from the top of her ribs down to her hip before it re-settles on her stomach. “Victorious swashbuckling tales and chests full of gold?” She teases and he lets out a soft growl into her neck, rolling his hips into her.
She gasps at the feeling and then she’s on her back, cuddling a sleepy Killian with dawn coming in through the windows, and this was totally not how she imagined his next move. Even after all they’ve been through, she’s still getting used to how easy it is to just be with him because they’re not just sex, the usual urge to run away after a night full of pleasure never crosses her mind when she’s with him.
“A replay of last night, then?” A nod. “Very nice,” she says and presses a kiss into his hair.
“Amazing,” he mumbles, and she smiles. Her hand leaves his hair to cup his jaw, tilting him up so she can see his eyes flutter open for a brief moment.
“There he is,” she beams at him and gets her first taste of his lips, pressing her mouth to his as delicately as possible. They linger a little longer than they will later in the day, the pressure just enough to promise that whatever they face when they leave the room, they will come back here at the end.
She releases him so he can return to burrowing into her like she knows he wants to, his feet kicking off the sheet and comforter in the process. She sucks in a breath as goosebumps erupt over her skin under the blast of frigid air. He knows how cold she gets, but he’s always complaining that she’s a furnace, and the war of the blankets has only become more intense as time goes by.
She scrabbles for a sheet, but he dramatically yawns and rolls further on his stomach so he’s fully on top of her, the weight of his chest pinning her to the bed.
“So much better,” he sighs.
“Killian…” she complains, the comforter just beyond her fingertips.
“One would think…” he starts and pauses to yawn, for real this time. “You’re still stuck in that bloody ice cave. Unnatural…”
“Killian, please. I’m freezing!” She whimpers and he huffs before reaching for the blanket, his longer arm easily making up the distance she couldn’t cross. He pulls the comforter up and tucks the edges in over the top of her shoulders, almost covering his head from where it’s resting on her chest.
“Thank you,” she breathes in relief.
And all she gets in return is a grumpy sounding, ‘Mm-hmm.”
Once her shivers are finally gone, she brings her hands up and starts massaging his shoulders, paying special attention to the knots he gets in his neck from stress and what she thinks is actually a byproduct of tilting his head at people so freaking much. He stretches and turns his head, granting her the angles she needs, while a low rumble vibrates through his chest. It’s not often that he lets her take care of him, and she tries to make the most of it.
She listens as his breaths relax, so rhythmic that they almost put her to sleep. In fact, she thinks he may have drifted back off. She continues anyway until his muscles are loose under her hands, yielding to her suggestions without the slightest opposition.
When she’s satisfied with his comfort and comes to a gradual stop, he doesn’t seem to register it, and now she knows he’s asleep. Her eyes are just dropping closed when his left arm twitches, always the second part of his body that wakes up. She doesn’t think the first part really goes to sleep. He grumbles a moan and rubs his cheek against her, the feeling of his beard sends shivers down her body. He inhales her scent with the corner of his mouth perking up.
“Feel good?” She asks and he nods dozily, pressing a kiss against the curve of her breast. “You about ready to get up?”
His grin grows and she rolls her eyes, but doesn’t miss the scratch of his jaw when he shakes his head no.
“We gonna stay in bed all day?”
His nod is more enthusiastic than she expected it to be, and she can’t help but to laugh quietly.
“You sure you don’t want to go out? Visit the Jolly and teach me how to tie a proper knot?” She asks and starts combing through his hair.
“Gonna have to teach you inside,” he mutters into her skin. “It’s going to rain.”
“Nuh-uh. It’s supposed to be sunny all day.”
He works his right hand out from beneath the covers and holds three fingers. He takes them down to two, then one, and the moment his hand drops back to the bed a crack of thunder strikes outside.
“How did you do that?” She whispers, and his chest shakes against her belly in a silent chuckle.
“Once you’ve been a seafaring man for hundreds of years, you can just feel the pressure, darling,” he says and yawns again, not seeing her blush before she does her best to hide it.
She nods dutifully so he doesn’t look up and bust her for being overly happy at the endearment, going back to focusing on his hair.
“You need a haircut again,” she tells him, and he bats half-heartedly at her hands.
“No.”
“What? I didn’t say I was planning on doing it.”
He lifts his head so his chin is centered on her sternum, his skeptical gaze on a low simmer compared to what she’s received in the past. She bites her lip against a grin and he lays back down, not mentioning out loud what happened the last time she told him he needed a haircut. And then convinced him she could do it.
She winces at the memory. It’s a good thing his hair grows so fast.
“I’ll go tomorrow,” he says, and she doesn’t argue, just focusing on the patter of the rain starting against the windows. But she thinks he takes her silence for something else because he glances up at her again, and even though she smiles sweetly his face falls. The next thing she knows, he’s crawling further up and over her, plopping down on his side and shifting her so she’s curled up against his chest.
“I wanted to watch the rain,” she pouts at him, and with a roll of his eyes, he slides her over his body so she’s snuggled against his left side, facing the windows again. He pulls the blankets back up and straightens them from where they came loose, making sure she’s covered.
“Better?” He asks quietly, and she nods. “Good.”
They don’t speak for a long time, both of them silent as they watch the rain. His stump starts sliding down and back from her shoulder to her waist and she knows he doesn’t like when she’s on his left side because he can’t caress her properly, but he still abided by her whining and it’s not like she cares about it. It’s nice anyway, and she loves him more for it. He trails a line over her skin until all she knows is the sound of water on glass and his touch.
“Weather permitting,” he starts softly when he does speak, “you want to have dinner at that probably terrible restaurant you’ve been eyeing since it opened, recover with some drinking and watching something on the moving picture box?”
She stifles a chuckle because for the life of him he can’t memorize “television”, but he doesn’t mention, probably knowing how his nicknames for modern technology amuses her.
But she blushes when the rest of his words form a sentence in her mind. One of the things she never expected to learn when they actually got together is that Killian likes to date. And not in a let-me-buy-you-a-drink-and-get-you-into-bed way, even though she knows from their trip to the past that he used to do that too, but in a let-me-show-you-off-and-spoil-you kind of way. And she figured that even though they’re technically dating, the dating aspect was sort of unnecessary because they were already in love with each other by the time they became a couple.
Dating, to her understanding, is mostly about testing out a person to see if you could love them, and then after that, you were just together. Like dating a spouse, it just seemed to be a moot point. But a quiet part of her wonders if Killian worries about them becoming stagnant. That if he doesn’t constantly stoke that fire, it’ll burn out. And she doesn’t think it ever would, but she doubts she’ll ever get the chance to know because he wouldn’t dare risk losing her to something like inattention or complacency. Who would have thought Captain Hook would be the one teaching her about healthy relationships?
Because the thing is, they could stop going on dates. They could just always hang out at the house or grab to eat whatever was quick and easy (probably always at Granny’s), lounge on the couch and watch TV and they do those things too, and she loves the domesticity of it all, but he keeps her on her toes when he suggests things like tonight. It’s fun to get dressed up, go out to dinner and have him pull out her chair, laugh and flirt and tease and talk about them and only them, not discussing just the how-was-your-day or guess-what-problem-I’m-having stuff. They leave together and they come home together, but it’s surprisingly, wonderfully romantic.
“Sounds perfect,” she tells him, and he hugs her closer to him for a second before going back to brushing her back with his marred arm.
Dating also helps to kick them out of the bedroom once in a while. Which sounds like a weird problem to have, but they have to be careful.
They spent so long just as friends and reluctant allies. Incredibly close, and fraught with sexual tension, but still platonic. They built a relationship based on trust and respect and not just chemistry, though they have it in spades. And while she always thought the anticipation would kill her, it’s the knowing that’s the true demon between them. Because it’s good, so so good and addicting, and sometimes it’s hard to remember that they are much more than just sex. Especially now that they have the freedom to have it as much as they want.
(Although, another crisis can happen anytime. It’s Storybrooke after all).
His gaze falls to her and he presses a long kiss into her hair.
“I love you,” he whispers and she smiles, her hand on his chest reaching for his right one. They find each other and his fingers slide through hers.
“I love you,” she promises, and his grip tightens for a moment before he faces the window once more.
They have to take the time to see each other, hear each other, spend time loving each other with their words and not their bodies. It took them a long time to come together and they both want it to last, to work, and for that to happen they have to stay grounded to who they are and where they began. So they clean (he cleans and she distracts him). They cook (she cooks and he distracts her). They lay in bed and listen to the rain. They don’t always make it through without eventually attacking each other in a frenzy of passion, but they try. And it isn’t easy.
They can never seem to be together enough and Killian needs to know that she’s not using him for all that he’s between the sheets, and she knows he wants her to be reassured that as much as he jokes about needing to make love to her all the time, that’s not why he wants or loves her. So sometimes they say no for the simple reason of owing each other these moments, the promises that they are more. To respect their relationship enough that it doesn’t become focused on one, admittedly amazing, thing.
He’s careful about it, but it’s still there and he’s doing it right now. His body woke up ready to be joined with hers, and even though they’ve been laying here for a while, he hasn’t made a move to satisfy it. He’s been sweet with his touches and mindful to keep his lower half separate from hers since they’ve been in this position so she doesn’t feel his erection, and the thing is, knowing he’s doing it only makes her want him more, love him more.
She peeks up his face, relaxed and comfortable, unknown endless thoughts sifting through his mind. His arm is light on her back, trailing circles over the dimples above her bottom, his right hand laced lovingly with hers and lying by his hip. He clears his throat and shifts a little, his abs rippling and the sheet pulling down to highlight the deliciously bare, sculpted slant of his hips as he props a knee up.
One little movement. That’s all it takes.
“Killian?” Her voice is a little shaky, nervous even, though she has no reason to be.
She waits until he turns to look at her, calm curiosity in the way he tilts his head and how his stump never pauses, not even for a moment. His eyes are awake and clear, and beautifully unworried. It’s taken a long time for her to say his real name and have him look at her like that.
“Make love to me,” she whispers with a shy smile and he returns it, just the slightest hint of an uptick in the curve of his lips and it makes her grin grow to a full-out beam.
He brings their hands up from his side and flattens her palm on his chest, her fingers instinctively curling around the hair on it. He rubs the back of her hand in a move so smooth she doesn’t know when one action started and faded to another. When he’s sure she’s comfortable, he leaves it behind, his fingertips tracing her face from her temple to her jaw until they rest on her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek when he leans forward to kiss her.
“Thought you’d never ask,” he breathes right before his mouth brushes hers.
He only comes close enough to tease her into wanting more, letting her absorb the fullness of his bottom lip but not fully tasting him. He pulls away too soon but returns to nuzzle his nose with hers, his head tilting like he can’t decide if he wants to lean left or right.
It’s to the right. It’s always to the right.
Carefully, his mouth opens over hers, his tongue dripping in slowly like she’s something to be savored, as if it’s the only chance he’ll ever get and he wouldn’t dare to hurry. And when he does stop and start again, it’s the gift that keeps on giving, final words on repeat, and a prayer immediately answered. Tiny drops that equal a flood because Killian kisses like the rain.
She’s lost somewhere between the drizzle and the downpour when her legs slide over his hip, brushing against what he kept hidden from her all morning. His hand drifts down her body, but instead of pulling her closer, his palm lies on top of her thigh, keeping them apart.
She moans her disappointment and he caresses her skin tenderly, not giving in but asking that she be patient. She’s already forgotten what she was upset about when his hand draws up to her belly, flattening her with a throaty moan, and she can’t help but giggle.
“Something funny?” He mumbles into her skin and she nods her head, sinking deeper into the pillow when he pulls back, propping his head in his right hand to look down at her without rolling off. “Pray, do tell.”
It’s just…” she starts and shrugs, biting her lip as she caresses her hands up his back. “With as much as you were always staring at my ass, I never thought for a second that my shoulder was the real target.”
“First of all,” he says, and his handless arm slides under her, dragging it up her bottom and pulling her closer, “your arse wasn’t the only thing I was staring at. Second, it’s not like I ever stopped staring at it, thanks to whatever genius declared that jeans are socially acceptable to wear by women in this realm. And third, I happen to like this shoulder,” he says defensively.
“So I’ve noticed,“ she teases. “Is that why the two times I’ve dared to wear a strapless dress I barely made it out of the closet?”
“You should’ve known better,” he says seriously, and she can’t help but laugh. “And it’s not like you can blame me. I mean, look at it,” he says and gestures to the body part in question. “It’s smooth,” he tells her, bending to kiss it. “It’s soft…” Another kiss, longer this time. “Deliciously sexy…”
Her back arches when he scrapes her with his teeth, her hips rolling on their own, and just when she brushes against him, he tilts his hips away from her. She huffs a frustrated sigh and her hands leave his back, flopping down to the bed.
“Aw, don’t be like that, pouty,” he says and kisses her cheek.
“You’re being mean,” she tells him, and yes, she’s totally pouting.
“Not mean. Taking my time.”
She frowns a little, unable to argue with his reason despite her impatience. She releases a breath and tries to calm herself down, focusing on his touch. He’s sort of playing with her hair, brushing it back from her forehead in light sweeps as his gaze drifts over her. She studies his eyes, the faint crow’s feet that will only deepen with time, and she can’t wait. She brings up to cup his face, her thumbs massaging over the skin and down his stubble, still not a single silver hair can be found, but she’s a patient woman.
“What?” He asks softly and she blushes. “Really? Again?”
“Yeah,” she nods as adorably as possible and he rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he does it.
He lowers his head, lips lightly brushing her skin, and then he buries his face in her neck. She lets out an involuntary giggle as he starts rubbing his way to her cheek, leaving feather-light kisses on the skin he scrapes with his stubble.
“What does it feel like to you?” she asks when he moves to the other side of her neck and does the same.
“I imagine it feels the same as for you,” He lifts his head and tilts as he considers, then finally says. “Itchy.”
“It’s not itchy to me,” she laughs, and his eyebrow cocks.
“Really? Then how does it feel like, Miss I Know Everything?”
“It’s…it’s complicated,” she says, and he props his head on his hand again as though he’s settling in for a story. “Okay,” she says, and she can’t keep the excitement out of her voice that she’s getting to explain something to him that she’s spent a lot of time thinking about. And the fact that he looks eager to hear just urges her on. “You know how when your arm or leg or hand or whatever fall asleep, when it wakes back up it’s all tingly?”
“You mean when your circulation restarts and the nerves start firing?”
“Whatever,” she says, and he chuckles. “So, when I was a kid, I would always imagine that the feeling came from a Daddy Long Leg-”
“A Daddy Long Leg?”
“The spider,” she clarifies, and his lips twitch like he wants to laugh at her again.
“I’m sorry, do continue.”
“So, I always imagined that a Daddy Long Leg was walking around inside me, only his feet were getting stuck in my skin so every time a leg moved, it would pull at it and make this weird tingling feeling.”
Killian bursts out laughing, head thrown back and everything. It’s really hard to be offended when he looks so cute and happy.
“Let me get this straight,” he says and tries to catch his breath. “You’re telling me that it feels like you have a spider walking around in your face?”
“No,” she says, mock irritation. “Not walking, more like… ice skating. Wait, that’s too sharp,” she mutters and thinks. “Rollerblading!” she says happily. “Definitely rollerblading.”
“Mm-hmm. Because a rollerblading spider makes so much more sense.”
“It does! That’s what it feels like.”
“Itchy,” he whispers with a grin, and she rolls her eyes.
“You just have no imagination, whatsoever.”
He leans forward until his lips are hovering right over her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “That’s not what you thought last night…”
Shivers race through her body and her back arches on its own, pressing her bare chest into his. Her leg slips higher around his waist and this time he doesn’t push her back, his hand cupping her bottom and pulling her closer. Something between a moan and a whimper escapes her when his mouth travels to her neck, soft and wet kisses being placed one after another and everywhere he can reach.
The rain picks up outside and the steady thumping against the glass sounds like her heart in her chest, only increasing when he begins to slide down her. Light grazes of fingertips precede his lips, deliberately relishing every inch of her exposed skin. Maybe that sound is her heart after all.
Her eyes close with a sigh when he cups and massages her breast, the lines in his palm drawing her nipple taut, aching and anxious for the sharp scrape of his teeth. He rubs his cheek against it, rough and prickly hairs giving her some relief but not fully releasing the tension.
“Killian…” she pleads quietly, gasping when he flicks his thumb over her nipple.
His voice is low and deep when he murmurs. “I know.”
She gets one faint kiss but no bite before he continues kissing and adoring his way down her body, lingering over her stomach and her hips, petting and stroking every nerve and sensation to a blistering peak. Her hands come up to fist in her hair, tugging at the roots as she tries to control her breaths. Killian must notice, and she knows he doesn’t like it when she takes the tension out on herself, but she can’t help it. His palm slides up her arm until he finds her hand, untangling it from her hair and lacing it with his before he brings both back to rest on his neck.
“Use me,” he whispers and her other hand joins her first in his hair, but she can’t be anything but gentle when she feels him.
He hooks his left arm under her thigh and she squirms, shamelessly tilting her hips up towards him. It’s useless, though, because the more she rushes, the slower he goes, waiting until she’s still before he blows a stream of air across her clit that is a jolt to her senses.
He chuckles and she wants to dig her nails into his neck and wrench him closer until she gets what she wants, willing to do anything that will relieve the throbbing between her legs. Her grip must tighten without her permission because she hears him wince and then his hand weaves with hers, squeezing lovingly even as he pulls it away and lays it by her hip, his other arm petting her leg as he kisses the inside of her thigh.
She waits as long as she can stand, a plea for mercy ready to leave her lips when his tongue finally touches her: one long slick line from her entrance to her clit. A wave rolls through her body with the tortuously gradual movement, her back bowed by the time he pulls away with a rumble of approval. She collapses back down, panting and dizzy and uncontrollably restless.
“Breathe, Swan,” he says gently, and she can’t help but to laugh a little, unsure how she’s supposed to do something like focus on air when all she can think about is him touching her. How desperately she wants him to do it again. What she would sacrifice for him.
Everything. The answer is everything.
Her free hand threads into his hair and she forces herself to pay attention to the silkiness of the strands, trying to ignore the way his warm breath is somehow cooling her. One of life’s many mysteries.
“Don’t move,” he commands and her muscles lock until they quiver, his hand holding her steady when his tongue dips inside her.
A sound rushes from her mouth, but she has no idea what it is, a curse, his name, maybe both, and maybe nothing because the only thing in this whole world is soft but also firm, full and velvety and delicious as it strokes in and out, twirling and searching and feeling her. He could do this forever and she would never get used to how intimate it is, how special he makes her feel.
Her mind is flashing through all the ways she wants to show him, explain to him, repay him for how incredibly he loves her when he replaces his tongue with a slender finger, curling it inside her to pet the Holy Grail of spots he knows drives her insane with pleasure.
“Oh, God… Killian…” she mumbles as his lips circle her clit, his replying moan vibrating from his throat right into her, and her body spasms.
He’s restless even when tender, scraping and soothing, sips and flicks as he tastes all of her and it’s too much, too good, too strong, and too everything and she wants to make it last, but she never will. Not with the way he moans like he’s enjoying this as much as she is. Impossible when their hands join again, locking them together. Infeasible when he tells her what he wants, what he craves and that’s for her to come for him.
And she does.
Long and slow, wave after wave, he commands passion to pulse through her until she has nothing left to give. And she’s glad, because she’d rather he have all the best parts of her.
Sound comes back to her first, trickling taps of water on the windows, splashes on the pools that have formed outside. Lightning flashes and her world is silver, sleek lines punctuated by black hair, his head resting on her belly. Thunder booms and he looks up at her, a pleased tranquility playing across his lips that mirrors pure adulation in his eyes, and this is the look that tells her that in endless years, it will be his voice that she wakes to and the last one she hears before she sleeps at night. And she wouldn’t want it any other way.
He’s silent now, dropping a kiss to her skin before sitting up, smoothing his hand up her side and wordlessly telling her to turn over. She smiles and rolls onto her stomach, her hands hugging the pillow so she’s perfectly, wonderfully comfortable. There are no words enough to describe how much she loves their bed.
She shivers when his lips touch her spine, goosebumps racing up her back long ahead of his measured ascent.
“Cold?” He breathes when he reaches the shell of her ear and she shakes her head no, but he brings the blanket up and over them anyway, his body warm on top of hers.
He works an arm under her so she’s snuggled in an atmosphere of Killian, his cheek against her own so she can feel him smile between tender kisses to her neck and shoulder. Like they have all the time in the world and they’re going to take every minute of it.
“I love you,” she whispers, and his chest shakes once under a laugh.
“Tell me later,” he says quietly, and she nods because she knows better than to say that when they’re in bed like this. It’s not that he doesn’t believe her, but it’s easier for him to hear it when he knows she’s not being swayed by sex or anything other than her true feelings.
“I will,” she promises and turns her head so she can kiss him fully, re-giving him her words in the best way she can think of and this time, he accepts them.
They’re both breathless when he hooks his left arm behind her knee, drawing it up to her side so she’s open to him. He slides against her and she pulls her lips from his with a gasp, dropping her face into the pillow. The arm he has under her comes free and he sweeps her hair to the side, nuzzling her neck, and she trembles. Her hands need purchase on something more solid and they find the headboard, pushing her back towards him, where she knows he’s waiting.
Long fingers slip through hers so she never feels alone. His forehead drops to her neck and with his breath washing over her skin, he starts to push into her.
They moan together as she stretches around his swollen tip, gradually welcoming him into her body and glorifying in each solid inch he has to give until he’s buried as deep as possible. His heart is hammering against her back and in the pad of his thumb. He waits before he strokes into her again, fiercely controlled strength and hitting the spot he seems to be attuned to that strips her from reason.
Her head whips back and he stills, letting her settle before her moves again. His pace is relaxed and graceful while their bodies mirror each other, the same roll traveling from their hips up to their shoulders so their skin never separates. It’s amazing, like they’re the same person, same soul, all in one body. And it’s something that she’s only ever known with him, the way they can understand each other without ever uttering a word. They just know.
Because she wants to see his eyes, she needs to taste his lips, and as though he can read her mind he pulls out, helping to guide her so she’s once more on her back with her legs around his waist. He comes right to her, dropping his forehead to hers and entering her in one smooth stroke that pulls the air from both of them.
She wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately as he makes love to her, his hand sliding up her side and her back, brushing the hair from her face when he pauses to look at her with an affectionate smile. She has no idea how he makes everything so beautiful.
She barely presses against his shoulder, and he rolls them like she wanted, settling her on top of him. He props his knees up to tilt her forward, his hand and stump on her shoulder blades easing her down to him and it’s exactly where she wants to be, both of them smiling when their lips connect. She loves being able to make him happy, and she’s learned precisely how to do it.
She rolls her hips once and he moans throatily, his arms around her waist holding her tighter as he rocks into her.
“Don’t move,” she whispers into his lips, and he chuckles quietly at her repeated instructions. She squeezes her inner muscles around him, and his whole body jerks with a groan.
“That’s cheating,” he tells her, and she bites her lips wickedly.
“Doesn’t mean you don’t like it,” she says and squeezes him again, this time rewarded with a gasp for her efforts.
“Emma…” he starts and pauses when she distracts him with a swivel of her hips. “That is so not the point.”
She bends to kiss him and even though she knows he’s worried about finishing too fast without satisfying her first, she doesn’t see that as a problem at all. She wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t what she wanted. Killian just doesn’t understand that his pleasure means just as much to her as hers does to him and when she can get away with it, she tries to let him come out on top. Not that it ever works because he’ll repay her, over and over, but it’s worth a shot. He deserves to be prioritized.
Her lips travel to his jaw, hitting the spot she knows drives him crazy and scraping it with her teeth, kissing the hollow under his ear that makes him shiver. She’s tracing the vein in his neck with her tongue when she squeezes him gently, using the control she’s mastered to pull tighter against his shaft in one long roll, just as if it was her hand against him. He swells and twitches inside her, his back arching in a way that makes her ego soar.
“Stop that,” he mutters, and she holds in a laugh.
“Be still,” she reminds him and she knows that if he really wanted to stop her he could do it in a dozen ways before she could utter a word of protest, but instead, he just blows out a breath, his fingertips trailing up her spine. “Just relax, feel me.”
She shifts so her mouth teases his, giving him one flicker of tightening, and listens to his breathing hitching.
“Feel good?”
“Mm-hmm,” he nods and takes her face in his hand, looking at her like he’s never really seen her before.
“What?” She asks and he just shakes his head.
“Nothing. I’ll tell you later,” he says softly, and her heart melts.
She leans down to kiss him and he holds her like she’s precious, like she’s something to be cherished. She just wishes he understood that he is, too.
She starts to move slowly, rolling her hips and muscles massaging him at the same time, working him up until his breaths are shallow and head tilted back, neck strained against all that he’s feeling.
He grits out her name and she tells him to let go, to come for her just as she did for him, his grip tight on her hip when he slams up to her, pumping his release where she can claim it as her own private reward.
His body unwinds under hers, taking long breaths to calm his pounding heart as she does her best to soothe him, stroking her thumb over the cheekbone and nuzzling the other side of his neck between light kisses. When he regains the ability to command his arms, he drapes them over her contentedly, good hand tucking her hair behind her ear before he shifts and presses his lips to her forehead.
“I swear, woman,” he says with a light chuckle, “you’re a danger to my reputation.”
“Ungrateful,” she teases, and he laughs again.
“Never. Just…”
“Just what?”
He’s quiet for a long time before he says, “That was entirely your fault, so you can’t blame me at all.”
She presses another kiss to his cheek and sits up. “That’s some apology you got there, Captain.”
“Aye, well I’ve had practice,” he shrugs, running his knuckles up and down her arm. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“You better,” she glares mockingly and crosses her arms. “Because I am horribly mistreated and if you can’t satisfy me, I guess I have to invest in a vibrator.”
His eyes widen with a devious grin, and then he’s flipping her onto her back, her breasts bouncing and hair fanning over the pillow.
“You are in so much trouble, princess,” he growls playfully and pretends to attack her neck, sending a burst of giggles to come unbidden from her lips. They cut off with a gasp when he pulls out and then slams all the way into her, still rock hard and hitting that perfect spot. He does it again and her breath seizes in her chest, her whimper of a moan giving light to a devilish gleam in his eyes.
“You were saying?” He says haughtily, and she attacks his lips, tightening her legs around him in an urge to feel him deeper. His tongue delves into her mouth as he thrusts harder, stopping suddenly when a crack of thunder shakes the house.
They both look at the window, what should be blue skies are now black with the storm, water pounding against the glass with no sign of letting up.
“So much for our date,” he mutters, and she smiles, turning his face back to hers.
“Killian,” she says and leans up to kiss him. “Just enjoy the rain…”
