#cs smuff

 There is a decided increase of speed in their steps as they follow the streets toward their house by the water.  Even as they move further from the center of town, they can hear voices calling out in the night as folks bid each other good evening before parting ways and excited children begin to recount for their parents the things they’ve seen and games they’ve played.  They see Marco dutifully helping Granny gather up the luminaries which had lined the walk to the diner, Frederick taking his wife Kathryn’s hand as he cradles their little boy in his other arm where he had fallen asleep against his father’s shoulder, and with a smirking nod, Killian makes sure Emma catches a glimpse of Leroy escorting Astrid back toward the small cottage she and Tink now rent together near the school.  Together the awkward, but sweet, pair disappear around the corner and out of sight. All in all, the night has been a rousing success; all that Snow had hoped as she hatched the idea months ago and planned and prepared for the last several weeks. 

They soon reach their own front walk, and Emma’s seemingly languid and sleepy haze dissipates as they pause on the porch and Killian fishes for his key. A mischievous grin quirks her lips and trouble sparks in her eye as she leans forward to grasp the lapels of the red-orange-and-brown-checked flannel she’d bought him for the Festival and pulls him down to her anxious lips. The kiss tastes of apple and butterscotch, tinged with rum and the hint of salt from the fire-popped corn, and Killian sighs at the deliciousness of it - right in every possible way.

When they part, panting, foreheads still pressed together, Emma winks at him before prodding huskily, “Let’s get inside already before we give some stranger a show.” Pressed up against their front door as he is by her warm, delicious body, Killian is loathe to move, but his lovely wife is right. The sparks flying back and forth between them would rival the huge bonfire that had lit up the whole town square not an hour ago, and if they don’t get indoors soon, he hardly feels he should be held responsible for his actions.

“Emma love,” he purrs against the sensitive skin where her neck meets her shoulder, nose brushing over her skin until he feels her shiver in his arms. “Do you have some mischief in mind?”

She quirks a brow in playful challenge, skirting around him quickly to pull open the door and slip inside first with a squeal of glee as he whirls trying to catch her.

 It isn’t long before he has her pinned against the wall in the entryway; kissing, mouthing, nipping along her collarbone, his tongue tracing, “Going to answer my question, yet, hmm?”

 Breathlessly, Emma pants, half in a daze, green eyes glazed over, “Nothing a sweet tooth like yours won’t enjoy,” she finally manages cryptically.

 Tilting his head curiously, Emma can see that her husband is puzzled by her words - as she meant him to be - even though he waggles his dark brows at her, smirking, “And just what is that to mean, wife?”

 “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she purrs, trailing a finger up his sternum to chuck him under the chin, then tugging at the top button of his shirt, adds, “Lose this, and wait for me in the dining room...maybe you’ll find out.”

 Grinning devilishly, pleased with herself even as the black pupils widening with arousal to overtake the blue in his eyes makes her own pulse begin to speed up and thrum unsteadily, Emma saunters away from him with intentional extra sway in her hips and a teasing glance back over her shoulder before she vanishes into the kitchen.  The way her husband visibly swallows hard, seeming completely gobsmacked, makes her plan (which is making her palms sweat with its daring) seem already worth it.

 Once in the kitchen, Emma reaches into the refrigerator for the bottle she needs, hidden behind several other items so that neither her husband or son would find it first and use it up, then setting it on the table, begins to shimmy out of her jacket, jeans and top, mouth dry with both nerves and anticipation.  Once she stands in the playful lingerie she’d picked for this very occasion - black boy shorts and a push-up bra, both with tiny candy corns and candy apples printed all over them - she blows out a tense breath, self-consciousness almost getting the better of her despite the fact that Killian has never made her feel anything less than beautiful.  Smoothing a hand over her hair, Emma focuses on the adoring look her husband only gets in his eyes for her, and biting her lip, she picks up the container and goes to find him.

 Stepping into the entryway from kitchen to dining room clutching the bottle of caramel sauce for dear life, Emma tries to strike a seductive pose, clearing her throat to gain Killian’s attention from where he stands leaning against the table, shirtless as she had instructed, but staring at his own feet, lost in thought. 

 At her entrance, his face snaps up to look at her, and his mouth drops open.  The sight of him bare chested with his weather-browned skin covered in dark hair that accentuates his toned pecs and abs before trailing down into his jeans makes her previously dry mouth practically water.  ‘ This will be fun,’ her mind cheers, even if she feels ridiculous at the moment.

 “E-Emma...wh-what are you…?” Killian stutters as he struggles to ask her what she has in mind, but she shakes her head, stalking slowly toward him, and his words trail off in stunned awe.

 Once she reaches him, Emma presses her fingers to his lips for a moment, smiling wickedly, “Just hold still, and you’ll see,” she directs, raising the bottle of sticky sweet topping to wave before his eyes, then upending it to squeeze a bit of the caramel onto her fingers before returning them to his mouth. “Here, taste.”

 Killian’s eyes are blown wide as he opens and then sucks her fingers between his lips, his tongue caressing them as well, and making her breath heave despite her attempt to hold the upper hand. “Mhmm,” he hums, hands coming to rest on her nearly bare hips and pulling her closer, until she stands between his legs and his long, calloused fingers trace around to lightly clutch at the supple cheeks of her behind.

 Seeing that she has him where she wants him, Emma holds the dispenser over his chest, squeezing more liberally to line caramel across her husband’s collarbones, and back to center, trailing it down his stomach to the waistband of his pants.  She licks her tongue along his skin after savoring the taste of the sweet sauce and a hint of the salt from the sweat that has broken out over Killian’s body. His head is flung back and his chest is already heaving by the time she brings her tongue to swirl around his nipple and adds her teeth with a playful bite.

 Letting out a guttural noise that Emma honestly isn’t sure she’s ever heard him make, Killian suddenly lunges forward and wraps her tightly in his grasp, and in the blink of an eye turns the tables on her.  She got a bit engrossed in feasting off of his decadent body and forgot just how stealthy her husband can be. Before she knows what has happened, she’s lying with her back pressed against the table, her pirate leaning over her and encasing her there between his arms.  Eyes alight, he leers down at her devilishly and works the bottle of caramel from her suddenly nerveless hand.

 “Let’s see now, Swan,” he murmurs, adeptly drizzling caramel over her ribs and into her belly button before surveying her like some half-finished piece of living art.  He slides his hook ever-so-carefully into the waistband of her festive panties before deftly slicing them and tossing the scrap away with a single flick of his wrist. “That’s much better,” he muses happily, tracing the curve of his metal appendage along the edge of her bra cup next.  “Though these articles are quite humorously arousing, I believe I was the one promised a reward for my sweet tooth and yet you were having all the fun.”

 By this point, Emma is trembling all over, every hair on her body standing at attention. Killian always manages to make her quake with desire using his hook to disrobe her, and the thrill of this different, wholly abandoned encounter is almost more than she can stand. Almost whining in eager appeal, she reaches for his waist, getting his jeans unbuttoned before he pushes her hands away. Though the jeans fall open to yield a heartstopping view, Killian doesn’t pounce on her immediately as Emma aches for him to. Instead, he shakes his head at her in mock chiding, “Ah ah ah, not so fast, wife.  Not until I’ve had my taste.”

 So saying, he trails caramel onto her inner thigh, along the joint where her leg meets her torso and then flings the bottle somewhere behind them, swooping in to devour her with his mouth. His tongue swirls around her nipples, laving and teasing as she had done to him, leaving her gasping for breath and vibrating like a live wire waiting for the final spark to set her off. His whiskered face tickles the skin of her stomach before his tongue dips into her belly button, making her hips desperately lift off of the table toward him until he pins them back down with hook and hand.

 Luckily, before she can combust into a pile of ash, he finally moves in earnest, lapping along the crease at the top of her leg where he’d traced the sweet confection. He chuckles maddeningly against her quivering skin as she tries to buck in impatience, “Yes, Swan, you were right... delectable .” Then, without anymore hesitation, his tongue slides home, pillaging and plundering in earnest and setting her off like a bottle rocket. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They are a heaving, sticky mess of boneless limbs and sweaty skin by the time all is said and done. Cleaning the remnants of sticky caramel from each other in a steamy shower leads to more delicious mingling, and by the time Killian emerges, about five minutes after his insatiable wife, still toweling his hair dry, he is completely, pleasantly wrung out and utterly spent. Tossing the towel haphazardly toward the hamper, in a distinctly less neat than usual gesture, he pads across the carpet toward the bed, waiting only for Emma to return with the water she had insisted they both needed to drink to replenish themselves.

 A few moments later, his wife appears in the doorway, two cold bottles of water in hand, and she steals his breath all over again.  Clad in the flannel he discarded when they had first begun, and nothing else, her bare, shapely legs entice him all the way up to where the hem of his shirt stops, and her sated smile lights her whole face as she moves toward him across the room. The sight of his Emma wrapped in his shirt as she crawls into bed beside him is the sweetest treat he could ever receive.

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His brow furrowed in thought, and he eyed his own stomach with something like trepidation. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he started, then worried his bottom lip. It was rare he was this speechless.

“What, worried about your good looks going out the window?”

He tilted his head in derision. “Please. I saw my alternate future self. He may have been in dire need of a bath and a haircut but he was still handsome as ever.” He took a deep breath. “It’s just...if I did put that weight on, I’m not sure I could lose it quite as quickly.”

She wanted to repeat what she had just said, but he did have a point: quite a bit of her bump disappeared in the weeks after Hope was born; it was just the lingering 15 or so pounds after that took some time. That was a far cry from the full amount.

“What if...what if I found a way to do it with magic?”

“Like a transformation spell?”

“Yeah, like that combined with the empathy belly spell, or maybe, like, a reset button.”

“Come again?”

“Something that would let you gain weight the normal way but I’d be able to flick my hand and bring you back to your present weight.”

“Hmm, I feel like we could have some fun with that one. Possibly even a contest of sorts.”

“Of course you want to make it a competition.”

“You know how I feel about a challenge. But think about it: we could compete to see who has the biggest belly by the end.”

She gave him an assessing look. “You liked having that bump, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “It had its novelty, to be sure.”

She hummed. “Let me do some research and see what we can come up with.”

“It’s a deal.”

--------------------------------------

There were a surprising number of spells out there, it turned out, that would let them do what they were trying to do. She probably should have scheduled a doctor appointment before she focused on that, but, whatever.

“Okay, so this one does what I was talking about—it reverts a person’s body to a certain point in time, as long as we have a hair or something from that point in time,” she started explaining the next night, a stack of books next to her at her seat at the table. “Then this one,” she started, grabbing the next book, “would connect everything—you’d gain weight in the same places I do, pound for pound.” He was listening intently. “And then this one entirely mirrors a pregnancy—symptoms, weight gain, everything, but I don’t think I’d want you puking at the same time I’m puking because it would probably set off a chain reaction.”

“I’d do it if you wanted me to.”

“I know. But I don’t.” It was better if she had someone to hold her hair back. “So what do you think?”

He hummed in thought. “Is there a way to combine them? Like, make sure the weight gain is concentrated in certain places, but not tied to yours?”

The reckless part of her wanted to say ‘yes’, but again--that might be prego brain talking. “I don’t know, but I can find out.”

By the next day, she had her answer (and an appointment scheduled). She didn’t even really tell him what was going on; she just plucked a hair from his head when she got home and stuck it in a vial, then waved her hand and muttered the incantation under her breath, making it glow.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” he asked, after rubbing the spot she’d yanked from.

“Yup. One more thing.” Then she rummaged in her coat pocket for a larger vial with a blueish potion. “Here; drink this.”

He took it gingerly, eyeing it cautiously. “And what does this do?”

“The hair was for the resetting spell; I figure we keep this in a safe place for the next thirty-some weeks and then you’ll be back to normal after the kid comes. The potion is what will direct everything; you’ll only gain weight where I gain.”

“You’re brilliant, love,” he said, smiling, then gave her a kiss. “Bottoms up,” he continued, then popped the cork and drank it in one swallow. His face turned sour with the taste, but what she noticed was the brief, dim glow his body took on--much like hers had she added a drop of blood to the brew.

“Feel okay?” she asked.

“Other than needing to wash my mouth out with rum, yeah.”

They stared at each other for a long, charged moment. “So we’re officially doing this,” she finally said.

“Aye. Time to see who can get the biggest belly?”

“It’s on.”

-----------------------------------

The doctor’s appointment the next week confirmed everything and put her at about 8 weeks along; a bit too early to tell the family, but everything looked good and, surprisingly, Emma wasn’t feeling too nauseous. Of course, that all went out the window the next week, and frankly, between that and keeping up with Hope, they’d both forgotten about their challenge until the nausea abated, somewhere around 11 weeks—which was when Emma first noticed her bump.

“Killian! Come look!” she shouted from the bedroom, in front of their floor length mirror. It was barely noticeable, really, but it was definitely there—a firm little thing just behind her belly button.

Killian came running, wearing only his pajama pants, then stopped short when he saw her and the way she was standing in profile view.

“Is that...are you….?”

“Yeah,” she said, in a watery voice.

He came closer and placed his large, warm hand over the tiny bump. “Well, hello there, little one.” Then his eyes grew wide, and he moved to stand in front of her, also perpendicular to the mirror. “Does this mean…?” His hands traced over his own stomach, but it was just as flat as it had always been.

“Mm, looks like someone needs to catch up,” she teased.

He smirked. “Indeed I do.”

Quickly, they measured each other’s waists, as a starting point (subtracting a centimeter off of hers to make up the oh-so-tiny difference) and took note of starting weights.

And then Killian ate a larger breakfast than usual...and lunch...and dinner.

------------------------------------

They broke the news to her family a few weeks later, right around 14 weeks. Her bump was becoming more and more prominent, though still small—just rounding out her stomach.

Not that anyone noticed in the excitement over Baby Jones #2, but if they’d taken a closer look at Killian, they might have noticed the slight strain on the buttons of his shirt. He was definitely behind in the competition, but Emma had been more than pleased to discover the previous week that his stomach was a bit softer than usual.

“Bout damn time; I’ve been overeating enough,” he commented, poking at the ever so slight amount of flab at his midsection as he stared at it in the mirror.

“Yeah, but Hope’s been a handful. And you’ve been doing so amazing keeping up with her.”

“It’s the least I can do; you need your rest.” He had been chasing after his daughter more while Emma napped; it must have been just enough to counteract the extra calories. “Guess we just need some more late-night ice cream meals,” he added, winking.

“Mmm, I like the way you think,” she agreed, pressing herself close. “But first: all this putting my hands all over your bare chest has me wanting other things.”

“I can definitely help with that.”

(Emma’s increased libido probably played a part in curbing any weight gain, too.)

Killian actually lost a bit of weight a couple weeks later when he came down with a stomach bug, negating much of his progress. Emma tried to keep foods in him but they just wouldn’t, and even once it was done, it took a bit before his appetite came back.

So, at around 17 weeks, Emma had a very solid lead in their competition. He was actually staring longingly at her rounded belly while tracing just how flat his was.

“You’ll get there, babe. I believe in you.”

“I sure hope so. Maybe Granny can help?”

“Oh, you know she would.”

—————————

A couple weeks later, he’d become a regular at Granny’s for lunch, and got the same thing every day: double cheeseburger with bacon, fries, AND onion rings. The successes of the endeavor were hidden under a loose-fitting tshirt—and, though no one could see it, evidenced by the waistband of his jeans starting to cut into his flesh.

“What happened to Mr. Healthy Foods Prevent Scurvy?” the old wolf finally asked him one day. “I haven’t seen you eat a vegetable that wasn’t fried in weeks.”

“It still counts,” he tried to brush off with a shrug. “I’m simply trying to take full advantage of your cooking, darling.”

She wasn’t buying it. “No, it’s not that; this is something else—and it reeks of pregnancy hormones.” Then she leaned in and asked quieter, “Are you trying to get a belly to match?”

“Something like that,” he admitted, suddenly not sure he should eat that last onion ring.

But Granny just grinned. “Well, that’s awfully sweet of you. I’ll do what I can to help. But you’re eating salads too; you’re too young for clogged arteries.”

“I’m older than you.”

She just waved him off and brought out a salad—which, he had to admit, he’d been missing. But then an alarm went off on his phone; bloody hell—the doctors appointment! He said a quick thanks, threw some cash on the counter, and hurried out (which was a wee bit more difficult than it used to be).

Emma was waiting when he arrived at the office, slightly out of breath. “You okay?”

“Aye; never better,” he assured her. “When do you go in?”

“Any minute now.”

It only took a few more until she was called back, and not half an hour later they were staring at a fuzzy black-and-white image on a screen—one that was sharper than it had been on the last visit.

“There’s your baby!” the technician announced. They stared in awe as she pointed out all the parts as the baby moved around inside Emma. “Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Yes,” they said simultaneously.

Another girl. They both cried.

They were staring at the sonogram in the hallway because they were still too elated to leave. “Hope is getting a sister,” Emma gushed.

“Aye; another little princess,” Killian responded, then turned his attention to Emma’s belly. “Hello there, darling little girl; we can’t wait to meet you.” And then he pulled Emma tight for a kiss.

They held each other for a long moment afterwards. “Mm, you’re finally a bit more cushier,” she commented, pressing her belly into his. “But you’ve got a ways to go.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Granny’s cottoned on, by the way.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Says she’ll help but doesn’t want it to come at the expense of my health.”

“Tell her I appreciate that.”

“I will.”

“But seriously; we’re at the halfway point, dude. It makes me wonder just how serious about this challenge you are.”

“Oy!” he protested. “You know I am.”

“Prove it.”

“I intend to, but I do need one thing from you.”

“Seriously? What?”

“Bigger jeans.”

————————

Larger pants were acquired—and Emma even bought a few past that, to accommodate any future growth. And damn if he wasn’t trying. But he still had Hope to keep up with, and work, and this all was significantly less easy than she thought it’d be.

She stroked her own round belly and wanted to do the same to him. (But at least it hadn’t impeded their nighttime activities.)

It was while watching a movie on TV, though, that an idea struck her; a bit of Internet shopping and a couple days later, she had her prize in hand—something that would hopefully help Killian catch up.

“What’s Kalteen?” he asked when she put one in front of him at breakfast. His bit of paunch was evident against his tshirt, but if she had to compare it to weeks in a pregnancy, he was at maybe 16 to her 22.

“It’s a weight gain supplement,” she said casually. “I guess wrestlers and body builders use them.”

He eyed it warily. “Oh really?”

“Yeah; figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

Carefully, he tore open the small package with his hook and then eyed its contents. “Looks harmless enough...and smells okay…” Then he took a bite. And another. Until he finished the whole thing. “I think these just might help.”

The difference was immediate, and two weeks later, they stood in front of the mirror again with her hands on his bump. It was definitely one now. His chest had softened a bit, though it was impossible for that to catch up to hers. His belly, though—that had finally reached a point of similarity, and Emma liked it even more than she thought she would.

It really didn’t look much different from hers: it rounded out from his navel and sat fairly high on his midsection, much more like a baby belly than a beer gut. The line of hair that traversed his stomach was a bit sparser as it stretched over the expanse—and the more she stared, the less she could keep her hands off it.

“Like it, eh?” he teased, then pressed forward, pushing it against hers.

“Mmm, yes,” she purred, then slid her hands down to his hips and squeezed. “Ooh, and you’ve got some love handles going on there, too, Captain.” The way his jeans cut into them didn’t look very comfortable, but she loved how it showed everything off.

“The better to love you with, my dear,” he murmured, then pulled her as close as she could get in a searing kiss.

Which meant things quickly moved to the bed, and feeling her bump brush against his while making love was even more thrilling than she could have imagined.

She didn’t know how that would work as they got bigger, but she couldn’t wait to try.

——————————

It wasn’t until a trip to the Nolan farm a few weeks later that anyone dared say anything. Everyone noticed Killian’s gut, but knew better than to challenge Captain Hook about it. If anyone was going to, it would have been Granny, but she only seemed to be indulging him so for one rare moment, Storybrooke minded it’s own business.

David and Snow, however, couldn’t. At first, Snow had taken it as a testament to her cooking that Killian asked for seconds whenever they were over. But now, Emma was nearing the start of her third trimester—and Killian had a very similar silhouette.

The men were out in the barn, getting things ready for winter, when David decided to confront Killian. “Hey, uh, is everything okay, Hook?”

Killian was in the middle of drinking from a water bottle and scratching at the underside of his fairly prominent belly. He swallowed, sighed, and then replied, “Aye, everything’s perfectly fine; why?”

“Well, uh…” David hadn’t planned this far ahead. “I know having a pregnant spouse can be stressful, especially when you’ve already got a little kid, so, um...you’re not drinking too much or anything, are you?” he finally stammered out, staring at the floor—though his eyes did flicker up once, first to Killian’s stomach, and then to his eyes.

Killian sighed again, then shifted his hips a bit. “You’re wondering why I’ve put on weight.”

“Yeah. You know I’m always here for you, man—if you need to talk or anything—”

“It’s not like that, mate, I promise you,” Killian interrupted. “Everything with me and Emma is perfectly fine. Probably more fine than you’d like to know.”

David huffed. “Don’t make me regret this, pirate.”

Killian just chuckled. “If you must know, I’m doing this willingly. Emma asked if I’d help carry the weight this time around, and this is how,” he explained, gesturing to his belly.

“Seriously? You know that’s not healthy.” David had put on a few sympathy pounds in both pregnancies but this—this was different.

“It’ll be fine. There’s magic involved—it’ll all come off after the baby comes, and that’s why it’s concentrated in front and not elsewhere. And Emma and I have a bit of a contest going on.”

“What’s that?”

“To see who’s belly will be largest by the end of this.”

David might not understand the how or the why of all of it, but he definitely understood that. “And who’s winning?”

“She is, but only by a couple centimeters.”

“And you’re just gonna let it stay that way?”

Killian seemed a bit taken aback by the change in David’s tone, but then smiled. “Heavens no.”

“Good. Let’s win this.”

“You’ll help me?”

“Yeah, but you’ve gotta do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Play Santa at Christmas?”

Killian laughed. “You’re on.”

In private, David told Snow what was going on. She rolled her eyes, but agreed to help.

And not a word was said by anyone when Killian was offered a third helping.

----------------------------------

A week later, at Thanksgiving, everyone was stuffed—but no one moreso than Killian.

After a long nap at home together, their hands resting on the other’s stomachs, they took a measurement.

Killian finally had the lead over his 28-week pregnant wife.

“Look at you, inching ahead,” she said, impressed, nudging as close to him as she could get. She still got the oddest thrill from pushing against the softness of his stomach, especially with her own—even if his didn’t have a wriggling inhabitant.

“Did you doubt in my capability, love?” he asked, taking his own enjoyment in her round belly, tracing it lovingly. But then he jumped back, just as their growing daughter kicked against his. “At least that doesn’t happen to me,” he chuckled.

“No, but Hope sure seems to love yours,” she giggled back. More then once, she’d found them lounging somewhere, Hope looking exceedingly comfortable against the squishy mass.

“This one doesn’t punch back,” he replied, patting against his belly. “Do you think I’m ready to play Santa yet?”

“Not quite, but I think we’ll get you there.”

------------------------------------------

The lead went back and forth for a bit—the baby hit a growth spurt at the same time as Hope did, giving her extra energy.

But between David sneaking extra snacks to Killian at the station, the general abundance of holiday treats, and spending more time inside, Killian had a solid lead by Christmas Eve. Emma was around 33 weeks by that point, but by her estimation, Killian looked like he was at 36.

He perfectly filled out the Santa suit and was charm incarnate as they went around town spreading cheer. But god, she couldn’t wait until they got home.

She put Hope down for the night and then found him in their bedroom; he’d shed the hat and fake beard, but still wore the red coat and his pants. Good.

He hauled himself to his feet and waddled over to her; the way the spell worked, the weight was starting to sit lower on his stomach, much like her belly would be soon. Watching him move like that was...something else. Something that had her clenching her legs together.

“You know, Santa Claus won’t come if you’re not in bed,” he teased, voice dripping in innuendo.

“Oh, we can’t have that, can we?” she answered, shuffling toward him. “I desperately want Santa to come.”

“Mm, but have you been naughty or nice this year, love?” he asked as she got close enough to grip the furry lapel of his fuzzy red jacket.

“Very naughty,” she whispered. “I’ve been keeping things pretty kinky this year, Santa.”

“Oh?” he purred. “How so?”

“Let me show you.” It took some effort, but they met halfway to kiss, bellies bumping together as she pushed him back towards the bed, fingers searching for the zipper on the coat. She had to pull back when his legs hit the mattress, lest he fall back; she wanted him upright a little bit longer.

They paused to take a breath, chests and stomachs heaving, and she slowly undid the zipper, revealing his so-round stomach, straining against the tshirt he wore. The only complaint she had was that she couldn’t see where anything else was straining, but she’d get to that soon enough.

“So fucking hot,” she cursed as she pushed the coat off his shoulders; it was evident he’d been sweating in the thing, and not just from their yet-brief makeout session.

“And do you intend to cool me off, or heat things up?”

“That one,” she said, already slipping her hands under the stretched cotton shirt and pulling up. It slid off his stomach without much effort, revealing more of his warm, stretched skin and now-soft pectorals above his belly. (Softer still was the hair that still covered them thickly—possibly even a bit thicker than it used to be.)

He’d finally given up on normal jeans and started wearing maternity pants a couple weeks ago; either Emma’s libido was seriously out of whack or there was something about him that even made those sexy. The way the pair he currently wore was hugging the curve of his stomach was so weirdly hot, and she was jealous of the elastic that constantly got to hug him. “Let’s get these off, too,” she said, tucking her fingers under the stretchy material.

“As you wish, always, love,” he said, pressing a kiss against her temple and helping her slide them off.

She guided them down his thicker thighs but still-skinny calves, and he stepped out of them, but she stayed down there, hidden out of sight around his large form. “Oh, you’re definitely being naughty,” he teased, voice full of humor. “Come back up here, love,” he said, shifting his stance a bit and bracing his hand and hook low on his back.

“Mm, no; I like the view down here.” Where she could see exactly what he was desiring.

And she silenced any further protests from him with her mouth.

He returned the favor shortly after, with his tongue.

And then she enthusiastically rode him into oblivion, bellies bouncing together in time as they both chased the most incredible orgasm.

It was hard to curl up together afterward, so they settled with tucking into each other’s sides, their bumps leaning against each other.

“If we keep this up, you may end up back in the lead,” he panted.

“We can’t have that now, can we?” she tossed back.

“What happened to this being a contest?”

She squirmed a bit. “What if I want you to win?”

“Throwing the competition, eh? I knew you were a pirate.”

She giggled. “I just like what I see.”

“As do I.”

She rested her head on his shoulder and reached her hand over to trace his stomach; it was warm and soft under her hand. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you enough for doing this.”

“Would it be odd if I admitted to enjoying it, too?”

“No.” She couldn't judge him at all when she was getting such a thrill from it.

“I will be glad to get my old body back, much as I assume you will, but this has definitely been a treat,” he mused, tapping his fingers on his belly. Then he turned to her, a bit serious, and asked “You do still know where the vial is, right?”

“Uhh…” she started, feigning confusion and watching as his eyes grew wide in panic. “Yes, I do; don’t worry. It’s in the hospital bag, wrapped up in like a million layers of plastic wrap.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. I would have stopped eating now if you’d lost it.”

“I definitely want your flat stomach back too; don’t worry. But this has been fun.”

“It has. Hard to believe there’s only 7 weeks left.”

“And you already look ready to pop.”

“I do; don’t I?” he chuckled. “But maybe...we see how far I can go?”

A shiver of thrill went down her spine. “Oh, definitely.”

-----------------------------

Once Christmas had passed, it seemed like everything was in a race to the end. Emma and the baby kept growing as they should, and everything was pointing to a happy, healthy birth. Once her belly dropped, around 37 weeks, life got a bit more difficult, but her parents were around to lend a hand, and Killian was ever supportive, even as he continued to chase the limits of this challenge.

Honestly, it was kind of surprising—he’d definitely slowed down with the extra weight, much like she had, but he wasn’t letting it stop him. He still cooked, he still kept up with Hope (who had finally understood she was getting a sibling, but they weren’t going to try to explain Killian’s belly), he even shoveled.

And yet, it didn’t seem to have an effect on his stomach. “You know you’re going to have to go back to your old eating habits,” she teased one day as she watched him enjoy a second serving of ice cream after dinner.

“I’m well aware,” he answered. “But if my body is supposed to revert, I assume that means my appetite will as well.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

He shrugged. “Then don’t get rid of the larger jeans anytime soon.”

Honestly, his belly was impressive. It probably looked like he was full term with twins at this point, the way it protruded in front of him and sat low. She’d long since given up the idea of keeping up, though their baby also seemed to be in a sprint to the finish—logically, she knew she was no bigger than when she’d had Hope, but she still felt as though she was massive.

She had a breakdown one day, right around 39 weeks, over that very fact. As always, though, Killian was quick to assure her otherwise.

“You are as ethereally beautiful as always, my love,” he told her, pulling her into his side from where they sat on the couch. “And how on earth can you think yourself so large when you’re sitting here, next to me?”

He was right. With the way they were sitting, side by side and bump to bump, it was easy to compare the two, and his towered above hers by several inches.

“I’m the one who should feel like the whale here, Swan.”

“And you don’t?” she wondered.

“Oh, I do. A humpback. Which makes you a beluga at most.”

She laughed through her tears and cuddled as close to him as she could. They hadn’t been able to get in on in a bit, but that hadn’t stopped her admiration of his form. Which was when she realized something very, very important.

“Oh my god—i haven’t taken any pictures of you!”

His brow furrowed. “No, I suppose we haven’t—though some were probably taken on Christmas and Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, but...I should have been keeping track! Ugh! We’re fixing this now.” She grabbed her phone off the coffee table—a minor feat, bending forward that much—and ordered him to stand against the wall of the living room. Him standing took even more effort, but he complied (and she may have taken video of him walking over, as an extra memento). He obligingly posed for her, in profile and head on, even taking off his shirt to show everything.

“Okay, now come back over here.”

He waddled back and flopped down next to her. “Yes?”

“Open your legs.”

He arched an eyebrow but did as told; his belly quickly filled in the space between his legs, but there was still just enough room in his lap.

Moving faster than she had in weeks, she shifted up and over until she was sitting on top of him. His eyes grew wide with lust, and she was sure hers already were.

As much as she could, she bent over him, bracing her hands on his bump, and whispered in his ear “Remember how we tried to get labor going with Hope?”

He swallowed. “Aye.”

“Maybe we should find out if it’ll work with this one.” She tried to emphasize it by rolling her hips, but all that did was press her bump even more against his, so it was hard to tell if his sharp intake of breath was due to arousal or actually needing air.

“I quite like that idea, darling. And I hope you still do when we are finally able to get upstairs.”

“If you go first, then I definitely will.”

The way his much rounder ass filled out those jeans definitely kept her ready as she slogged up the stairs. And it ended up being the most awkward, but somehow still perfect, afternoon of lovemaking since this whole thing began.

-------------------------------------

Three nights later, they were coming down from another shared high when Emma felt it—a sharp jolt high on her stomach, much stronger than any of the Braxton-Hicks she’d been feeling off and on. Killian was laying on his side, watching her, and noticed the change in her expression immediately.

“Emma? Is it time?”

“Not quite yet, but...yeah. That was definitely a contraction.”

“Bloody hell,” he cursed, then tried to get out of bed—only to remember that something was weighing him down. “Uh, how urgent is it?”

“Probably not at all,” she giggled a bit. “Second kids come faster but we’ve probably got a bit of time.”

He worried his lip, glancing first at her, then at his belly. “Does that mean we should take care of this sooner rather than later?”

She sighed. “Yeah, probably.”

He echoed her, patting his belly lovingly. “Is it odd that I’m going to miss it?”

“I’m going to, too. But we’ll always have the memories.”

“You’re not typically so cheesy.”

“I don’t typically have an infant trying to escape via my vagina.”

“Fair point.”

“But you’ve got time; let’s say farewell properly.”

She scooted herself closer and grabbed his ample chest as she kissed him, then moved her way down, pecking his skin as she went until she got to the apex of his belly. Then she gave one last massage of his stretched skin, before encouraging him to get up.

“Time for a final weigh-in and measurement?”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Emma had started with a 30-inch waist, while Killian had been at 32. Now, she was measuring around 47 inches; damn. Killian, though… “Holy crap! 56 inches!”

“Seriously?” He tried to look, but couldn’t see enough of his body to confirm it. “I feel oddly accomplished.”

“You should.”

The bathroom scale—which she could only just see—said she’d gained the same 45 pounds this time around; not surprising. Killian had to rely on her to see the scale once he stepped on, though.

“Well?” he asked as she read the number.

Her eyes bugged out a bit. “You sure you want to know?”

“We’re about to undo everything, right? Just tell me.”

“Uh…”

“Swan.”

“75.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Bloody hell...maybe I was too good at this.”

“You won’t hear me complaining.”

He cradled the massive bump with his hand and stump, hugging it close one last time. Even if it hadn’t been real, it had been an exciting experience. But their life was about to get twice as crazy, and he couldn’t be (literally) weighted down anymore. He took one last long look at himself in the bathroom mirror, the way he was now, before turning to Emma. “Want me to get the vial?”

“I’ve got it.” She waddled off, leaving him alone for a moment.

As weird as this had been, and as little as he could remember what it felt like without a giant waterskin hanging off the front of him, he’d gladly do it again for Emma; he could tell it had made everything that more bearable this time around. It may not have been physically taking any of the burden, but he certainly had emotionally, and he was glad for it.

“Here it is,” she said, holding the wrapped-up bottle, but then grabbing her belly again. “Yeah, we need to get this going. Hold on.” Carefully, she unwrapped it, taking extreme caution to make sure nothing happened to it. It was still glowing like it had when she first cast the spell all those months ago. “Okay, here goes,” she said, then uncorked it and began to murmur.

Smoke poured out of the vial and twisted itself around Killian, and it felt like he was being hugged and pressed by it. It wrapped itself entirely around him, but then disappeared—and he was nearly thrown off-center by the change.

He looked in the mirror, and he was exactly as he’d looked 8 months ago: firm and toned, with no trace of the impressive belly anywhere. To be safe, he traced his waist, his chest, even his rear end; it was all back to normal. “Wow,” was all he could say.

“Yeah. Damn, I forgot how how you are,” Emma gushed.

Killian threw her a sidelong glance. “I believe you said that last time.”

“I did; didn’t I? Right before—oh, crap.”

Her water broke.

“Let’s go have another baby, then; shall we?”

“Let’s do this.”

---------------------------

Hours later, Charlotte Leia Jones was born. Since Hope was still with Emma’s parents, she and Killian were taking some time getting to know her and reflecting on the last several months.

“Another perfect, beautiful daughter. I love you, Emma.”

“I love you too,” she said, leaning into him. “And seriously--thank you again for what you did during this pregnancy.”

“You know it was my pleasure, love. And I’d gladly do it again.”

“Not anytime soon, okay?”

“No, certainly not,” he agreed, kissing her temple.

They sat there quiet for a bit more, until Emma’s stomach rumbled. “Ugh, I’m starving; what about you?”

“You know...I’m not as hungry as I thought I’d be.”

She just giggled, sore as she was, and rested her head on his shoulder, ready for whatever life brought them as a family of four.

----------------------------------

“Can I help you, lass?”

Oh good lord, he even had a British accent, with a tiny lilt of something else. Now she knew she was fantasizing.

“Lass?”

Oh right, he was talking to her, and now taking cautious steps toward her. She shook her head to bring herself back to the real world, and gingerly shuffled forward.

“Hi! Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I got lost and couldn’t get back to my car, so I was wondering if you could give me—”

“Are you hurt?” he cut her off, concern coloring his tone and furrowing his brow. He tossed the axe to the side and took longer strides to her.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just twisted my ankle, I’ll be fi...” She trailed off when he reached her, kneeling to inspect the damage—which was pretty evident by the way she wasn’t putting weight on it, but she knew she’d be fine once she got back to her car and home with her ice packs and wine.

He rose back up to his full height, a hand or so taller than her, and met her gaze. She was surprised to see a gentle look in his eyes—which were even bluer up close, a bit grayish even—and an expression on his face she could only assume was care; she’d only seen it a few times in her life, so it was almost jarring to see it on someone she’d just met. “Nonsense. I know this is a bit forward, but if you’ll allow me, I can tend to that for you.”

She wasn’t good at letting people get close, physically or otherwise. But she’d never encountered someone who wanted to help her so badly; despite his chivalrous, polite tone, she could see a genuine desire etched in his features. And the longer she waited to reply, she saw something else slip in, something she knew all too well: the fear of rejection and acceptance of solitude.

How many times had she seen that exact hurt countenance in the mirror? And suddenly, she realized that she may not even know his name, but she knew him, and suspected they had an awful lot in common.

“Okay,” she quietly replied, and the trepidation on his features melted into an affectionate smile that cut dimples into his scruff.

Then he went into action, moving to stand next to her, wrapping a strong arm under hers, and pulling her into his side. She hesitated a moment, suddenly feeling awkward, but an encouraging smile from him was all it took to wrap her arm around his back and shift her weight into him. He was warm and solid, but there was a softness that seemed to permeate from his soul.

“I’m Killian, by the way,” he finally introduced as they slowly set off. God, even his name was enticing.

“I’m Emma.”

She was still sure she was going to wake up from a really good dream as they moved closer to the cabin. They hadn’t gone far before he concluded it’d just be easier to carry her, despite her protestations (“I’ve carried felled trees heavier than you, love,” he threw back as he lifted her into his arms). Once inside, he gently placed her on a well-loved but plush sofa, propping her injured ankle on the ottoman, and then everything became kind of hazy as he removed her boots and tended to her with all the care and precision of a nurse. It was then she noticed the prosthetic in place of his left hand, but it didn’t appear to hold him back so she didn’t pay it much mind.

And then, with a warm, firm squeeze on her bandage-wrapped ankle, it was all done, and he was gazing up at her with a friendly grin that she couldn’t help but return. It faded, though, and she was surprised at how quickly she missed it and wanted to put it back.

“I’m sure you have somewhere to get back to now; someone waiting for you—” he started, but she cut him off.

“I-I don’t.”

At first, he looked somber, but then the corner of his mouth ticked up. “Then, you’re more than welcome to stay here until you’re feeling up to heading back out.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, old foster kid tendencies kicking back in.

“It’d be my pleasure, love.”

He made cocoa and got a fire started in the hearth of the rather spartan cabin—with its lightly nautical decor on its wooden walls—and she just watched as he worked, in awe of his graceful movements that belied the strength under them, and keenly aware of both his presence and the things it did to her heart (and other places).

The light coming in from the many windows quickly faded to the inky blue-black of night, and he closed the navy curtains to prevent the incoming chill that surely accompanied those late-fall flurries she’d glimpsed. Those hadn’t been in the forecast, but then she remembered that she was partway up a mountain and not at her little seaside cottage—though her home was nearly as secluded as his.

Conversation over dinner, with both of them curled up on the couch, only confirmed what she suspected: he too had a rough life, involving growing up without parents; losing his brother, his hand, and his first love; and the decision to make a fresh (if lonely) new start in the States. She told him about her similar childhood, her broken heart and the child she had to give up, and her own selective solitude, save for a few friends.

“Why do you do that?” he asked her as he set about clearing the plates.

“Do what?” She was confused as she watched him move about the room, and felt her defenses instinctively rise at being challenged.

“Keep everyone at arm’s length,” he answered when he settled back on the sofa, closer than he’d been before. “They obviously care about you.”

“Why do you live by yourself in a cabin in the woods?” she lightly tossed back in a well-honed deflection, using a flirtatious tone that she was surprised to find was genuine for the first time in years.

“Fair point,” he conceded with an easy grin and a light chuckle. Then he swallowed. “But, if I did have people like that in my life,” he started, pausing to nervously scratch behind his ear, “I’d be loathe to stay closed off.”

She couldn’t hold back her response. “Even after all you’ve been through; everyone you’ve lost?”

“Aye.”

“You’re not scared?” She was speaking from experience, she knew.

“I live on a mountain by myself. Scared isn’t the least of it,” he answered, almost self-deprecatingly. Staring at floor, he finished, “I just don’t think that’s in the cards for me anymore.”

She was certain now she was dreaming: there was no way she just happened to stumble upon a handsome man with all the same issues she had. Surely the universe was playing a trick on her, or it had picked an odd way to teach her a lesson about her own use of emotional walls. Because seeing the way they were built up on Killian—someone who clearly had an immense capacity and desire for love—made her realize that while hers might keep the bad things out, they were also preventing the good from coming in.

So maybe it was time to take a risk and punch a hole through them.

She placed her hand on his arm, just above his prosthetic, drawing his guarded gaze back to her. Her heart raced at the physical contact, as innocent as it was, but if Killian’s quick draw of breath told her anything it was that he was impacted by it, too.

“That’s not true, Killian. You deserve to love and be loved.” The tense draw of his features softened as he absorbed her words, and that was enough to give her the courage to continue. She took a deep breath. “Maybe we both do.”

For a moment, they were both frozen, letting the weight of her words suspend between them. He was studying her with an almost inquisitive look, and she feared she’d overstepped her bounds, but then he slowly leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.

It was tentative at first, from both of them; they were clearly out of practice. But his silken lips felt like heaven against hers, and she tilted her head to deepen the kiss. He instinctively moved closer, eliminating what distance had remained between them, and reciprocated by burying his hand in her loose hair.

She nipped at his lush bottom lip and slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders; when she squeezed, they felt warm and strong through the flannel. Ignoring her injury, she threw a leg over his lap to straddle him. She was worried he might protest, but when he wrapped his left arm around her waist, she could tell they were very much still on the same page. In no time at all, their tongues were as tangled as his fingers in her hair, and Emma’s hands were drifting down his firm chest to the top button of his shirt.

Slowly, not giving up her assault on his mouth, she undid the first closure and waited for a reaction. Her caution surprised her, but she really didn’t want to mess this up. The gentle pelvic thrust he gave in response, though, spurred her on, and in no time at all, the shirt was open and her hands were pushing the flannel down his broad shoulders and over his large biceps, and he leaned forward to help her guide it over the straps of his prosthetic, off his arms, and toss it aside. Her fingers traced the dips of his collar bones before trailing down to his pecs and pressing against the muscles there. Briefly, she let her hands dance in the hair that covered his chest; it was dark and coarse, but sparse enough that it felt smooth with the skin underneath.

She was glad she’d taken off her leather jacket when she first got in as Killian’s hand drew a line of fire down her back through her thin sweater. Following her move, his thumb worked its way under the hem to the skin of her stomach and began to slide up until he was palming her breast through her lacy bra. (Honestly, she’d only worn it because it was the last one clean; fate obviously had known something she didn’t.) Her shirt suddenly felt constricting and sweltering, so she reluctantly broke the kiss to tug it off and toss it across the room.

Once free of the garment, she took a second to breathe in the relief of the cool air on her overheated skin. Then she returned her attention to Killian, who was staring back in awe. The fire made his blue eyes sparkle—or maybe it was just the wide-eyed way he was looking at her, the fine skin around them crinkling with his smile, that made him seem so much more carefree and younger than only minutes ago. His eyes darted as he studied her, so she took the opportunity to do the same: he had the perfect dusting of hair across his chest and in a line down his abdomen. He wasn’t one of those chiseled body-builder types that tended to be the norm in female fantasies; he was obviously fit and solid, but also soft enough to cuddle up with later on—which, if she had her way, she’d be doing later rather than sooner.

“So bloody beautiful,” he breathed, shifting his hips and sitting up to wrap his arms around her waist and bring her closer. She felt his jean-clad erection brush against her core through her leggings, sending a jolt of heat straight through her and making her grip his sides to anchor herself.

“So ‘re you,” she murmured back, her raspy voice matching the flush that had started at her center and now surely covered her exposed skin, but she was too enraptured with the freckles on his cheeks and the way his fringe fell over his forehead to care. And at the same instant, they came back together in another searing kiss.

Soon, Killian’s attentions moved from her mouth, down her jaw, and sucked a line down her neck that had her head falling back, eyes closed in pleasure. She sighed as he moved across her collarbone, tugging her bra strap down as he nipped and kissed, stoking the fire within her just as easily he had the one in the hearth.

Seeking relief, she instinctively grinded into him. She chuckled when he groaned at the contact, and tucked herself into his neck, placing tiny kisses against his warm skin and breathing in his scent. He smelled familiar, like pine and cedar, with a hint of a spice she couldn’t think of. It was incredible and so perfectly him; they should bottle it. Or make a candle out of it. Wait—

“Oh my God, you even smell like the damn candle!” she exclaimed with her face still buried in the crook of his neck.

“The wha?” he slurred, pulling back from her. She sat up and he was staring at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

“The Mountain Lodge candle, from Yankee Candle,” she explained. He raised an eyebrow in question, but didn’t seem to know where she was going. So she babbled on, “It’s this candle that smells all and manly and woodsy and like the perfect stereotypical female fantasy. And you smell just like it.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he wondered with a slight smirk.

“No, not at all,” she answered, much calmer, but she was still convinced the universe was playing some trick on her. She dragged her hands back up to his shoulders, feeling every bump and curve and line in between as if to make sure he was actually there. At this point, she couldn’t bear the thought that he might not be. “Just...tell me that you’re real,” she entreated. “Tell me that this isn’t all some romance novel fantasy playing out in my head.”

He licked his lips in a move that should have been lewd, but the tender look in his eyes and soft smile on his lips made it something else entirely—something that should have scared her, and probably both of them, but just made her heart race even more: something bordering on loving.

In a low voice, he told her, “How about I show you?”

He slid his hand from where it had settled at her hips down over the curve of her rear and used both arms to guide her legs around his waist. She gripped his shoulders and squeezed her thighs as he stood, until he had her held tight against him.

As he carried her (yet again), she made quick work of her bra, letting it join her top wherever it had landed in the great room, and then laid herself back on him, chest to chest. The hair across his pecs tickled her stimulated nipples in the best way, and she let out a slow exhale at the sensation.

Because her life was a cliche now, there was a large fur rug in front of the fireplace. There, Killian knelt and laid her down; the coarse fur was surprisingly plush and felt smooth against her bare skin. He disappeared, and she sat partway up, worried, but he returned a moment later holding the throw pillows from the couch and wordlessly propped her injured ankle with one.

Seriously—she must have fallen and hit her head in the woods, and was presently dying of exposure for this to be her reality. Even as Killian started placing kisses at the hollow of her throat, trailing them down the center of her body until he reached the waistband of her leggings, and then continuing the line whilst slowly pulling off her pants and undies at once—even then she was pinching herself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. Granted, “pinching herself” awfully resembled” stroking her nipples,” but it had the same effect.

She still couldn’t believe it as she watched him gently part her legs, guide the healthy one to a propped position, and lift her hips to support them with the other pillow, despite all the feelings stirred by his careful ministrations. It wasn’t until he took a first tentative lick at her entrance that she was thoroughly convinced this wasn’t make believe. Because there was no way she could even imagine anyone as talented as Killian going down on her.

It was all she could do to not rut against his face, and thankfully his warm hand was pressed low on her stomach, both holding her in place and keeping a comforting weight on her growing pleasure. She found herself gripping the rug as he lapped at her folds, varying the speed and depth at which his skilled tongue maneuvered. The brush of his beard against her delicate skin tingled in the most delicious way. Every swipe of his tongue brought her closer and closer to her peak, which she’d been fairly close to before he even started.

She tensed, trying to hold it off and vaguely aware of the way he himself seemed uncomfortable, but he noticed her hesitation. He glanced up at her from between her legs and, in a wrecked voice, practically begged, “Come for me, love.”

And, because she was finding that she couldn’t deny him anything, she did. A second later, she fell over the edge, climaxing with a shout as waves of pleasure ran through her body, rippling out from her core. Not even the dull ache from her ankle, which had moved during her release, could crash this high.

Killian, eternal gentleman that he was, licked her sex a few more times as she came down before sitting back on his haunches to readjust her ankle. He moved awkwardly, though, and she could the strain of his arousal still very evident, if not more so.

Careful not to move her leg, she slowly sat up. He tried to stop her. “Easy there; you don’t want to—”

But his protestation died with a low growl when the back of her hand brushed the fly of his jeans and the hardness beneath. She repeated the motion with the heel of her palm, eliciting an even deeper moan, his head falling back and spine arching at her touch. Again she stroked, and reveled in watching his chest heave; he was somehow even more beautiful when aroused and she could feel her own desire building once more, even so soon after the last.

“Emma—please—” he stuttered, reaching for and stilling her wrist before she could stroke again.

As best she could from her awkward seated position, she leaned forward and whispered in his pointed ear, “Your turn.” He sighed and nodded.

Quickly but carefully, she undid his fly and pushed down his boxer briefs to free his stiff cock, which was, of course, as attractive as the rest of him and ready to go. Gently but firmly, she grasped his narrow hips and tugged him forward, sliding her hands to his lower back as they moved and slipping his clothes over his firm ass. Bracing himself on his forearms while she leaned back on her elbows, he managed to shake off his pants and then, once free of the offending garments, hovered over her.

Lightly, she placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down to her; even if it had only been minutes since their lips had last been joined, that was much too long as far as she was concerned.

While their mouths resumed their earlier waltz, her other hand trailed down his back and circled his side down to his manhood and began to stroke. He was like smooth velvet and warm in her hand as she slowly pulled from the base to the tip of his generous girth. His whole body shuddered on the first drag, and he hissed and bit his lip; but it was back to kissing on the next, and eventually his hand wandered to her breast, caressing it while she did the same to him.

The longer she worked, the more his hips moved with her, occasionally brushing his hardened length against her core. If the way he was slowly coming apart under her touch wasn’t enough to renew her arousal, that did it for sure.

So when he pulled back, strained and panting and stuttering, “I—I need—,” she cut him off.

“I want you,” she whispered. “Inside.”

His eyes opened wide. “Are you sure, Emma? Do we need—”

She appreciated his train of thought, but it wasn’t necessary. “We’re good. Now, please,” she breathed, “get inside me.”

“As you wish.”

He placed his hand over hers on his shaft, keeping it in place, and knelt back a bit. She guided him, circling her entrance with the tip of his cock. And then he slowly slid in, stretching and filling her perfectly and wholly.

They only paused there for a second, overwhelmed by the feeling of being joined, when both started shifting at the same time.

Somewhat startled, she grabbed his waist as he slowly pulled part of the way out. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, gripping her side and using his left arm to support him. He quickly thrust back in as she arched her hips up to meet him. He smiled at her movement, and what could she say? She was impatient to have him back inside her when it felt so good.

They set a rhythm with their push-pull, in and out, plunging and thrusting, feeling every beautiful inch of him drag against her walls as her hands did the same along his strong back. They were constantly increasing the pace until the pressure built within her was even more than before. Killian’s halting movements told her he was close, too.

“Love, I’m about to—” “Got it.” She reached in between them, finding the nub of her clit, and she’d hardly even made contact before she was coming, her release gripping her as shocks consumed her body and her head fell back with a rapturous gasp. She was sorry that she couldn’t see the look on Killian’s face when he followed her not a second later, but she could feel him stilling and pulsing within and heard his cry of pleasure.

They let bliss consume them for an unknown amount of time, only aware of the high they’d reached together and the feel of one another within and around them. But eventually, Killian slipped out and collapsed next to her on the rug, keeping an arm around her.

“So,” he panted, “does that convince you I’m real?” She turned her head to look at him, unsurprised to see an amused smirk topped by an arched brow.

She hummed back. “Yeah, I think so. But,” she started, reaching over to brush his hair off his forehead, “you’re more than welcome to make sure I really know. Maybe a change in scenery is needed?”

He gave a devilish grin. “How about the bedroom? The mattress springs are rather loud; there’s no way anyone can sleep through that.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Sunlight and the sound of birds chirping awoke Emma the next day. She blearily blinked her eyes to see the frosty world outside the window, snow dusting the branches in contrast to the bright red leaves.

She was sore in all the right places, save for her bum ankle, and stretched under the thick down blanket covering the bed.

Arms tightened around her and the body behind her shifted in protest of her movement. More carefully this time, she flipped over, and there he was: just as warm and soft and solid as he was last night.

Killian cracked an eye open as she placed her hand on the smooth skin of his stomach, near the V of hips. “Everything alright, love?” he asked, his voice gravelly with sleep.

“Perfect,” she whispered, then placed a small, tender kiss on his lips and tucked herself back into him, her head on his chest.

So what if the past 24 hours had felt like a romance novel? She never imagined her life would ever resemble a work of fantasy—especially one like this—but she couldn’t poke fun or complain here. All that mattered was that it was real.  

Emma hums, amused, remembering the way Killian had woken her that morning with his head between her thighs and his tongue inside of her. She’s only glad she thought to cast a soundproofing charm over their room weeks ago, otherwise their neighbors would probably complain.

God, this is such a difference from their ‘first’ engagement. Then, she’d chalked it up to too much rum; he’d needed to sleep his bender off that night, and then the next day had been… fine. It was good, they were always good, but it was just… fine. Regular, everyday sex. Perfunctory. Insert tab A into slot B, repeat.

She’s glad she knows now that yes, engagement sex is supposed to be happy, it’s supposed to be mind-blowing, it’s supposed to be enthusiastic. And maybe they’re not supposed to take turns waking the other every two hours for a repeat performance, and maybe she’s not supposed to watch him stroll into the bathroom buck naked and wonder how quickly she can get him back to bed, but she doesn’t care.

(She does kind of care that she didn’t get to bend him over the kitchen table and have her way with him, but she’s willing to wait.)

“What do you think it would be like?” she asks suddenly. Killian hums a question, not quite following. She smiles. “What my dad said, about taking everyone back to the Enchanted Forest and having the wedding there. Not that I want that, but. I guess I kind of wonder what that would have been like, a real royal wedding.”

“Well, sweet, I daresay any wedding of yours is a royal wedding, but I catch your meaning.” He pauses to ponder it, then continues, “I can’t say that I’ve attended any royal weddings, but do you recall our adventure to the past?”

Emma’s smile widens as his hand moves to her waist and his hook lifts her hand into the air. “I remember being escorted to a ball by a prince,” she teases, following his lead into a familiar waltz.

“The fairest princess of them all on my arm, that would be the one,” Killian says, turning her around the hall and grinning at her giggle. “Now, I know that wasn’t a wedding ball, but I should think that an engagement ball is the closest it comes.”

Emma doesn’t squeak as he lifts her, but she does breathe easier when her feet are on the ground again. “There’s drawings of my parents’ wedding in Henry’s book,” she says. “Brides wear white there too.”

He shrugs. “As far as I’m aware, brides wear whatever color they wish. Your mother just so happened to have worn white. Why, is it really the custom to wear white here?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Something about representing purity and virginity, I don’t know. At this point it’s more traditional than anything. I look good in white, that’s all that really matters.”

He leans in and she feels his breath against her ear. “Indeed you do; and it’s a good thing it’s merely customary, because I’m quite certain we’ve left any semblance of your virginity far behind us.”

Emma doesn’t blush, but she does feel very warm at the memories of their private adventures together. She also doesn’t mention that she happily shredded her v-card years ago, even before she got pregnant with Henry, feeling it might put a damper on the good mood they’re both in. “What would you have worn?” she asks.

“Something that makes me look dashing,” Killian supplies immediately. “Though I think going starkers might offend those with delicate sensibilities.”

She laughs, thinking about how the various people in Storybrooke might react to that. “I liked what you wore in Camelot,” she admits. “Though I liked your brown frock coat too. And I like the pirate greatcoat, and this new leather jacket… I’m not being helpful,” she says. “You’re dashing in whatever.”

“Dashing in whatever,” he repeats, mimicking her accent. “Truly, I’ve never felt so complimented.”

“My very own knight in shining whatever,” Emma says, grinning wider at the look he levels at her, the one that says he knows when she’s quoting something. “So, our fairytale wedding would involve a corset I can’t breathe in, fancy food I won’t get to eat, enough jewelry to fund a third-world country for years?”

“Precisely. Though you did try one of the samplers a footman was wandering about with at your father’s engagement party.”

She makes a face. “It looked like crab. I don’t think it was crab.”

“I don’t think you want to know what it was,” Killian says, the look on his face making her think twice about asking him anyway. Probably some scorpion god or other mythological creature. God. First chimera and now scorpions.

“We would not have chimera on the menu,” she says.

Killian looks surprised. “It’s quite nutritious, Swan!”

“I don’t care, it’s a wedding not a diet plan.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye that makes her suspicious as he kneels and she takes a turn around his prone form. “So we’d find some way to make that popcorn-chocolate-malt mess you make?”

She meets his eyes as they rise from their bows. “Absolutely. My wedding, my specialties.”

“I wonder how grilled goat cheese tastes…”

“You’d know, Captain Goat’s Milk.”

“Oi!”

She laughs as he twirls her, breaking the waltz to dip her low before bringing her close. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees his eyes flick down to her lips. His eyelashes are so long, she thinks dazedly. “See something you like?” Emma asks, sounding far less breathless than she feels.

He nods, ever so slightly, and she feels the heat from his face on hers. “I’m thinking how I very much regret how our morning was interrupted,” he murmurs, “and how I very much want to kiss you right now.”

She nudges his nose with hers. “I’m not gonna stop you.”

He hums, his lips brushing against hers softly for only a moment before pulling away. There’s a noise, like a strangled whine, and it takes Emma a moment to realize that it came from her. “Teasing,” she whispers.

“Pirate,” he tells her, voice low and husky, then dips his head down to press his lips against hers with more determination.

Electricity zips through her, starting at where their mouths are fused together and warming her body right down to the tips of her toes. He drops her hand, his hooked arm pulling her in closer, and her hand goes to the back of his head. Her fingers comb through his hair, twirling and pulling the little ones near the base of his neck just the way he likes, and he groans into her mouth in approval. She feels his erection pressing against the seam of her jeans and really, really just wants to shove him into the nearest broom closet and have her wicked way with him – again – but the hazy, sober part of her mind is reminding her to go find her parents and fuck all of this she just wants to go hide in their house and have lazy engagement sex. Again. And then have more.

She tries to speak between kisses. “We should–”

“We don’t need to–”

“Killian, fuck–”

“Oh I plan to, Swan, over and over and–”

She groans, reluctantly pulling back. His pupils are dilated and his chest is heaving and he’s looking at her like he wants to devour her, and more than anything else in the world she wants to let him. But her nagging sense of responsibility won’t shut up. “Let’s find a way to both appease and ditch my parents ASAP, okay?” she asks.

Killian reaches up and tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Aye. The sooner the better.”

*~*

Things, however, do not go as planned; Emma’s not even sure why she’s surprised anymore, not after living in Storybrooke for so long. Zelena going rogue and trying to take on the Black Fairy alone throws everything off balance, and Emma sends Killian home while she and Regina take care of Zelena’s magic problem. She tries not to be resentful – Zelena’s actually doing the heroic thing this time around, actually making amends for her mistake, and Emma’s the only one with enough light magic to revive the Blue Fairy – but she has a wedding to plan and a pirate to fuck. Babysitting the witch sisters so they don’t end up killing each other isn’t high on her list of things to do.

It’s dark by the time she leaves Gold’s shop, hellbent on returning home and so help her if her mother is at the house because Emma will not have any qualms about kicking Snow out. She’s tired, she’s been on edge all day, and using her magic always gives her a little buzz so she’s itching to put it to good use.

The house is quiet when she gets inside, the downstairs dark and if Emma hadn’t seen a light on in an upstairs window she would swear no one was home. She locks up behind her, leaving her jacket and boots by the door, and heads upstairs.

She pauses in the doorway of their bedroom, watching with amusement and a little bit of wonder as Killian tucks the edge of the flat sheet under the mattress. The previous set lays in a heap on the floor, bound for the wash, and it never ceases to amaze her how efficiently he can get things done with one hand when she struggles with two sometimes.

(Well, to be fair, she hates changing the sheets on the bed, but he’s also much better at the dishes than she is, and the hook helps when it’s time to trim the hedges.)

“Seems a shame,” she says, pushing herself off the door frame and entering the room. He looks up, his eyes alight with happiness as she walks towards him and helps him with the comforter. “All this work and we’re just going to get it all dirty again.”

Killian’s happy smile turns decidedly more sultry as he dips to kiss her hello. “It needed doing. We should change them much more often than we do now, but someone insists–”

“Okay, argue chores later, sex now,” Emma says, cutting him off by shoving him back on the freshly made bed.

“Yes ma'am.”

A thrill shoots through her at his words and she wets her lips with her tongue as she climbs up on the bed to straddle him. She starts to unbutton his shirt, enjoying the way he watches her take control of the situation. “Is that what you would have called me there?” she asks. “If we’d met in the Enchanted Forest, I mean.”

He looks at her quizzically. “We did, though.”

“I mean like, if the curse never happened. If all this – us, True Love, getting married, whatever – still happened and I was a princess.”

She shoves his shirt and vest down his arms and runs her hands across his broad chest. He inhales sharply at her touch and seems to have trouble remembering what they’re talking about. “I – I suppose in public,” he manages to say as her hands glide down his stomach to undo the buckle on his belt. “Or milady, or your highness. But I rather doubt even a gentleman pirate such as meself would stick much with titles.”

She smiles as she undoes the button and fly of his pants. “What about at our wedding?” she asks.

“What about it? Gods–” he bites out as her hand slips down his pants and she takes him in hand.

“Remember our dance earlier?” Emma asks. He nods, his breathing growing more and more unsteady. “I really, really wanted to sneak off into a broom closet. Do you think we’d be able to do that?”

“Here or – fuck, Swan, just like that – at the castle?”

She leans forward, nuzzling his nose with hers. “The castle. I like to think that the princess sneaking off with a pirate to claim her rights as a wife would cause a little bit of a scandal.” Killian can’t speak at this point, too wrapped up in her ministrations to do anything but nod. “It’d probably be more fun than a royal ball anyway.”

Something in him snaps and he surges forward to kiss her. She squeaks in surprise, giggling as he lays back on the bed and rolls them over so she’s pinned underneath him. She removes her hand from his pants to avoid any broken… well, anything, and he grinds his hips against hers while his tongue steals between her lips. It’s a hurried mess of kisses and accidental headbutts while they attempt to get their clothes off, but after the third time they crack foreheads Emma pushes him off of her so she can properly remove her bra and toss it over in the dirty clothes pile. Her pants and underwear soon follow and Killian pauses momentarily to take in the sight of her climbing back up onto the bed. After a moment, he kicks his own clothes away and quickly undoes the straps of his brace while she unmakes the bed and flops back on the pillows. “I think I like our way of doing things better,” she says as he joins her on the bed.

He grins down at her as he settles between her thighs. “As much as I agree, I have to wonder why.”

Her head falls back as he nudges her entrance; her legs fall open wider to better accommodate him. “Because,” she says, sucking in a breath as he slowly pushes inside. “Imagine Princess Emma and Captain Hook not having all this dirty engagement sex.”

She exhales slowly when he’s fully inside; sometimes it’s hard to relax when she’s so wound up and he’s big enough that it can hurt a little when she’s too tense. Killian waits a moment to let her adjust. “I’d like to think I may have appealed to your baser instincts, love,” he says, between peppering her face with kisses.

“Oh, so you’d have seduced the princess before our wedding?”

He grins at her mock indignation. “Would the princess have welcomed such a seduction?”

Emma pretends to think about it for a moment, then smiles slyly. She wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, giving him the signal to move. “Maybe Princess Emma would have gotten tired of waiting. Maybe she would have been the one to seduce Captain Hook.”

His eyes darken at the thought and he surges forward, kissing her as he begins to thrust into her with earnest. She meets his every movement, their hips meeting in a dirty grind that makes her feel like her skin is sparkling from how good it feels. He ducks his head to take a nipple into his mouth and Emma falls back against the pillows, telling him loudly and without words how he makes her feel.

Maybe being on edge and forced to keep their hands to themselves all day was a good thing, because the wave of pleasure that crests inside her is one of the best orgasms she can ever remember – and she’d had some pretty good ones last night. Emma’s nails rake down Killian’s back as she rides it out, and a moment later she feels him still as he spills himself inside of her. He doesn’t quite collapse on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows as he lets his head fall against her collarbone; they both struggle to catch their breath, too worn and sated (for the moment) to speak or even move much.

He rolls off of her eventually, though, and Emma shakily gets to her feet to go clean herself up. She glances at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she cleans herself, smiling at her own flushed cheeks and the messy hair that screams to the world that she’s just been fucked and fucked very well. She doesn’t know what she did to deserve him, but she’s happy.

She’s happy, she loves him, she’s loved in return, that’s all that matters.

She brings him back a damp washcloth, letting him clean himself while she gets back under the covers. She suspects they’re not done for tonight, so she leaves the lamp on as she curls up against his side, tangling her leg between his and resting her hand on his chest. Tossing the dirty cloth over to the rest of the dirty clothes pile, Killian puts his arm around her, holding her close. She settles more firmly in the crook of his arm and drags her fingers through his chest hair, smiling at how even now his body reacts to her touch with goosebumps and sharp inhales. He gives her this little moment of touch before stilling her fingers with his own, lacing them together and bringing their clasped hands to rest against his chest. She glances up, wondering why he’s stopped her. There’s a brief flash of regret on his face before he opens his mouth. “How did this evening go?” Killian asks.

Emma sighs, letting her weight drop against him. This is her favorite place to be, naked with him in their bed, and she really doesn’t want to bring up Zelena or Regina or the Black Fairy, but there’s no such thing as “off the clock” for the Savior. She resolves to keep this short so they can get back to more important things, like testing out his refractory time. “Zelena gave up her magic. She thought she’d die, she didn’t. I have to hand it to her, though, it looked like it hurt like a bitch and she didn’t let it show.”

“And the crystals?”

Emma shrugs. “Clear as far as we can tell. There’s talk of getting the dwarves to mine the rest of them out so the Black Fairy can’t try plan B on them, but we set her back for now. And I was able to use the one we had to revive Mother Superior, Gold had her… I don’t know if she was in some kind of magic coma or what, but she was in the back of his shop.”

Killian scowls and she hates that she had to bring Gold up. “Of course he did.”

“She’ll be fine now.” Emma props herself up on her elbow and runs her fingers along his scruffy jaw. He meets her eyes and she smiles encouragingly, even if she doesn’t feel it herself. Just bringing this all back up has brought her mood back down and she doesn’t like it, doesn’t like this gloom hanging over her happy place. “We can talk to her about the other half of the wand you brought back when she wakes up. We can do this.”

He sighs, closing his eyes for a long moment. “I know, love.” He pushes himself up to meet her, kissing her softly. “I believe in you, Emma Swan. You can do this.”

Emma closes her eyes against the hot sting of tears she feels building; this is a happy time, dammit, she doesn’t want to cry or think about the final battle or any of it. She doesn’t know how to tell him that his support means everything to her, that she feels stronger just because he believes in her. She rests her forehead against his, cupping his cheek. “I love you,” she whispers to him fiercely, hoping that he understands what she doesn’t have the words to convey, what it means when she tells him she loves him.

He tilts her chin up and kisses her again, soft, sweet, and full of conviction. Somehow, she thinks, he knows, because he always knows her and everything she can’t keep hidden from him. “And I love you, my own sweet lass.”

As if determined to prove it to her (again), Emma feels herself being gently lowered onto her back, his kisses no less sweet but growing in number. There’s a familiar swoop and flutter in her belly as he presses kisses on her cheeks and her neck and her nose, holding himself above her, and there’s no way he’s ready for round two, but –

“Mmm,” she moaned, and twisted in her chair so she could look up at him. “As long as the ravishing is done after the reception. We don’t want to give my dad anything else to freak out about, and besides,” she continued as she reached up and grabbed his necklace, pulling him towards her, “your pirate booty is all mine and I don’t want to share.” She closed the remaining distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

 It was Killian’s turn to moan this time, and despite the  awkward angle in which she found herself Emma couldn’t help the rush of heat that went straight to her lower belly. She was high on love and happiness, and all thoughts of the looming threat from the Black Fairy were the last things she was even remotely thinking about. Right now, it was all about the man who had promised to win her heart, and who’d made good on that promise. 

As their kisses grew deeper, Emma knew she was a lost cause. She didn’t even notice that she had risen from her chair and was now perched on the table, legs open with Killian standing between them, until she felt his hand on her bare thigh. (She’d slipped on one of his shirts before coming downstairs but hadn’t bothered with anything else.)

 “Didn’t I wear you out last night?” She teased, her voice coming out a bit breathless as he lips moved from hers, to work their way along her throat.

 “Never,” Killian mumbled again her skin. “I can never get enough of you, Swan.” He smiled against her neck and pressed his groin into hers so she could feel just how alive he was. 

“Well, hurry up, sailor,” she replied, wrapping her legs around his hips. “A girl doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” He found her lips again and Emma let out a small squeal as he pushed her backwards so she was now laying on top of the table with him over her, his weight pressing into her. He grabbed the back of one knee, pulling it higher, and slid his hand down along her thigh closer to her heated center. She thrust her hips up, encouraging him to go higher, to give her more. And just as his hand reach where she most needed it, her phone rang. 

“Really?” She exclaimed in desperation. She could see the name on the screen, her mother was calling. She could just not answer it, let it go to voicemail and she’d deal with it later. But with all that was going on, maybe it was something important. Maybe someone had been sucked into another realm. (God, she hoped not.) With an apologetic look to Killian she grabbed the phone and answered.

 “Emma,” Mary Margaret exclaimed from the other end. “Emma’s there’s something very important I need you to see. You have to come over.” 

Killian, however, seemed to think it would be funny to keep her as distracted as possible, and nuzzled at the opening in her shirt freezing one breast. She gently pushed on his arm, trying to get him to move back but he was having none of it.

 “Does it have to be right now?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound like she was running a marathon. “I’m...kind of in the middle of something.” She closed her eyes tightly as she fought back a moan when Killian licked the underside of one breast, her back arching up towards his mouth begging for more.

 Luckily, her mother seemed engrossed in whatever the problem was and didn’t seem to notice anything might be wrong with Emma. “Belle is trying to help, but there’s only so much I can do,” Mary Margaret explained. “I really think this is something that you ought to come handle.”

Emma’s heart stopped and it had nothing to do with the pirate currently  attacking her other breast. If Belle was there then it must have to do with Gideon and the Black Fairy, and something bad was happening. “We’ll be right there,” Emma told her mother and hung up the phone. “Killian, we have to stop,” she pleaded, giving her pirate a light shove. “My mother needs help.”

 Killian lifted his head with a sigh, looking down at her. “Is this truly a crisis or simply more wedding details your mother only thinks is an emergency?” He asked, one eyebrow raising. 

“No, it’s Gideon,” Emma told him. “She said Belle was there but they need help. We’ve gotta go.”

 He lingered over her a moment before moving away from her and standing up, holding a hand to help her up. “I’ll be happy when this bloody Fairy is defeated and we can go simply enjoy our lives.”

 “I know, babe,” Emma gave him a sympathetic smile, “me too. I promise I’ll make it up to you later.” She reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe if you’re really good I’ll even make some pancakes,” she teased giving him a wink.

“I certainly hope so,” he teased and gave her ass a smack as she moved past him to head up stairs to get dressed. 

A short time later, dressed and hoping she didn’t look like she’d been thoroughly seduced by her fiance, they arrived at the Charmings’ loft. Racing up the steps, they opened the door fully expecting Gideon to be holding her her entire family hostage. 

“Mom, Dad!” She called out. “Is everyone alright?” Nothing appeared to be amiss, the apartment looked like it always did, minus the coffee table being covered in what appeared to be magazine clippings, fabric samples, and various other crafting materials. Mary Margaret appeared to be deep in wedding planning mode. 

“Oh, Emma, Killian,” her mother said as she came down the stairs followed by Belle. “Thank goodness you’re here.” 

“Are you okay?” Emma asked. “Where’s Gideon? Is everyone alright?” 

“Gideon?” Mary Margaret asked, looking quite confused. “Why would you think Gideon was here? We’re fine.”

 “You said Belle was here and there was a situation you couldn’t handle,” Emma replied, starting feel a little exasperated that her sexy time with her pirate appeared to have been interrupted for nothing.

 “I’m sorry if we confused you,” Belle replied, looking a bit sheepish. Apparently whatever her mother was up too she’d somehow roped Belle into helping. “Mary Margaret has been working with my father on the flowers for your wedding and she was insisting on lilies but they aren’t in season, and-” 

“I know he keeps saying that,” Mary Margaret jumped in. “But people order flowers all the time for all over the place. I’m sure he can get some from somewhere.”

 “He’s tried,” Belle insisted. “But you know how hard it can be getting in out and this town and no one wants to risk it.” 

Mary Margaret sighed. “I still say this is ridiculous, but if we can’t have lilies then I need to know what flowers you want Emma so we can make sure we have them.” 

Emma just stared at her mother and Belle in disbelief. She wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry. “Flowers?” She asked. “This was all about flowers! Mom, I thought you were in danger. I thought Gideon was holding you guys hostage or something.”

 Mary Margaret looked taken back. “Why would you think that?”

 “Emma said the way you sounded on the phone, she thought Gideon was here,” Killian replied, sounding much calmer than Emma felt right now. “We thought something had happened.” 

“Oh,” Mary Margaret replied and faint blushed arose on her cheeks. “Emma I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. There’s just so much to do, and so little time do it in I want to make sure-”

 “Mom!” Emma exclaimed, stopping her mother in her tracks. “I thought we’d agreed to hold off on the wedding stuff till after the Black Fairy is defeated,” she reminded her. “Flowers are hardly an emergency, so can you refrain from calling me in a panic unless there’s an actual crisis.”

 “It’s alright, Emma, love,” Killian said, taking her hand in his and giving it a small squeeze. He could clearly tell she was getting irritated and in usual Killian fashion was doing his best to ease her worries. “She just wants to help.” 

Emma sighed. She knew he was right, he always was. It was just the shock of thinking her family was in trouble and knowing she was going to have a face this battle that was coming. And all she wanted was a few minutes of peace to just enjoy this new happiness that she never dreamed she could have.

 “I know, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I was just worried that something had happened, and with everything going on I just want to be able to enjoy the little moments.”

 Mary Margaret stepped forward and took her other hand. “I’m sorry too,” she said with a smile. “I wasn’t trying to upset you, and maybe I am rushing into things. I’ve just dreamed of this moment for so long, and I missed so much in your life. I want to be there for this.” 

“I want that too, Mom,” Emma smiled. “Once this Final Battle is over,  I’d love to sit down with you and plan some things, but can we please put it on hold till then?”

 “Of course, sweetheart,” her mother replied, and leaned in to give her a hug. “Perhaps I am going a bit overboard. I’ll try to be better.” 

Emma returned the hug. “It’s okay,” she assured her. “I love you, mom and I do appreciate everything you’re trying to do. I know it’s important to you.” 

“I love you, too Emma,” Mary Margaret replied, stepping back from the hug. “But are you sure everything's okay? When I called you sounded like you were out of breath.” 

Emma suddenly felt a heat creep up her cheeks and down her neck. She glanced at Killian which didn’t help because he just gave her a devilish grin. Bastard. He was going to make her find her way out of this on her own. And there was no way she was going to tell her mother the real reason she had sounded funny.  “Umm...yeah,” she replied. “I...uh, we were just um…” 

“We were having breakfast,” Killian replied, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief. He had saved her from humiliation at the hands of her mother. Again. “Pancakes, actually .” 

Damnit. 

This time it was Mary Margaret’s cheeks that turned pink this time. “Uh...oh,” she replied awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your, er, pancakes. Again.” 

“It’s quite alright, my lady,” Killian answered, not looking the least bit embarrassed by any of this. “Perhaps it’s best to make sure there’s an actual emergency before calling. No doubt you and David understand what it’s like to be newlyweds.” 

Emma laughed in embarrassment and grabbed Killian’s hand, making for the door. “Okay, we gotta go. Mom, I-I’ll call you about a time we can sit down and talking about this wedding later.” She pulled him out the door without a glance back, but not before she overheard Belle ask; 

“I feel like I’m missing something,” she said. “What is it about pancakes?” 

“You know they warn you about New England winters when you take this job,” Killian affirmed, “They tell you all about the blizzards and how snow emergencies can effect a ride and response. But they don’t prepare you for days like this.”

“Well get used to the changes. With our luck we’ll get a week of warm temps and sunshine and then another two feet of snow. If there’s one thing to know, it’s you can’t trust Boston weather.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Killian replied, enjoying his morning coffee as he and Graham watched a fight on the cusp of starting.

“I swear to God Scarlet if you spray me with that hose I will actually kill you!” The threat from Tink was completely serious, and Killian winced just thinking about how angry their ladder leader would get if Will was as hair brained as he pretended to be and turned the spray her way.

“Aw come on Tink. I’m practically you’re oldest friend…” Will baited and Tink scoffed, shaking the towel in her hand at him.

“Bull shit! And you can kiss the idea of me even tolerating you goodbye if you mess with me right now. I’m serious Will, back off.”

Tink was already poised to act and whether it was to either sprint away or charge Will, Killian couldn’t say. But he could see the actual consideration in Will’s eyes. He trusted his friend would make the right choice and be a grown adult about this, but then a challenge was presented and Killian didn’t know what to expect.

“I say you do it man,” Gus joked from the other engine. “No one’s gotten Tink real mad in a while.”

“Because everyone wants to remain in one piece,” Tink snapped causing a chorus of ‘oohs’ from the others cleaning.

A number of scenarios passed through Killian’s mind in that moment, and though he knew the firehouse was bound tightly together in a unit, there was a risk here. Tink did have a bit of a temper after all, and Will did like to push the envelope. Besides, with Gus getting involved and putting his two cents in as the probie and low-man on the pole, they might be in real trouble. Someone should step in.

“Anyone who starts a water fight is getting kitchen clean up for a week, you got that?” Graham called out beside him and Killian grinned at his lieutenant.

“Some days I wonder why you don’t have my job,” Killian admitted only half joking.

“Some days I wonder the same thing,” Graham tossed back humorously before another cry came from the truck bay.

“Did you all see this week’s picture?” one of the EMT’s named Thomas asked. “Sergeant Jones and his girl got pretty cozy at that open house.”

The response from everyone was a rowdy one as Killian had come to expect whenever Emma was brought up. He was a bit disheartened though since he thought he’d successfully hidden the copies of The Globe that were dropped off at the house this morning. Clearly some of them had gone unchecked, or Thomas had just been snooping. As such the squad now had access to a picture of Killian and Emma sharing a smile while in the company of some of the city’s cutest kids donning fake police badges and fire hats. It was ‘PR gold’ as Emma’s mother and the mayor’s office had put it, but Killian saw it as a snapshot of a great memory he was glad to have.

Thinking back to that afternoon just a few days back, Killian had the immediate urge to smile. It had been chaos in so many ways, with the engine house they’d used as a base swarming with children and their families as well as neighbors from the borough that the engine serviced. It was loud and packed with people, and in the midst of all of that, Emma and Killian had known they’d be watched all afternoon. But Emma, charming and graceful as she was, decided to put her best foot forward and to bring Killian with her.

Hours passed in the most enjoyable way, with Emma and Killian leading different games and answering questions for the little ones, and at more than one instance Killian found himself watching her. Surrounded by all these children and enjoying herself in a way that was reminiscent of being a kid herself, Emma was beautiful, entrancing, and impossible to ignore. Killian pondered most of the afternoon about what it would be like for Emma to have children of her own. He knew she’d be a spectacular mother, but in those imaginings Emma wasn’t going it alone – no, she was standing there with him, sending him that same knowing smile and lighting up his world.

It was crazy to think how little time they’d known each other and already Killian’s imagination was running away with him this way. He’d never experienced anything like it, but the sureness he had in Emma was unchecked. There was just something about her that eased his worries and convinced him that more was possible. With Emma in his life and in his world, everything seemed brighter and more vibrant. For the first time Killian wasn’t just content but actually happy and he had to credit that change to Emma. She was the one who gave him that, and the one who he was starting to build so many hopes for the future on.

“So remind me again how the new Sergeant not only scores one Detective Emma Nolan, but also gets the acceptance of the District Chief? Because something just isn’t adding up here.”

Will’s words pulled Killian back from the haze of his recent memories. They were meant in jest clearly, and Killian could read his friend’s humor in all of this, but it still set him on edge to discuss his relationship publically. 

Killian had long prided himself on being a man who spoke the truth. Honor was important to him, and full disclosure with his team was a part of that code he held so close, but when it came to him and Emma things were complicated. The start of their relationship had been unique, and though they were dating now and they had an understanding between them that this was a permanent, exclusive, romantic attachment, there was still the matter of telling her parents it was a real thing between them.

“I feel like maybe we can cross that bridge when we get there,” Emma said the night before when she was at his place and in his arms. “Besides, if you think my Mom is overbearing now, just wait until I tell her I actually like you. She’ll take it to a whole new level.”

Killian smiled now thinking of the way Emma put it, and the way he’d made her admit that there was more than mere ‘liking’ between them. It might not be love (at least not declared between the two of them), but the promise from Emma that they mattered and that they were starting something together that was real and worth exploring soothed something in Killian. He couldn’t shake the feeling that as long as he had Emma, everything would be all right, and so he didn’t dare risk losing her.

“It’s likely thanks to my dashing good looks and roguish charisma,” Killian quipped and the whole squad laughed at that ridiculous statement, but Will was onto Killian and his friend didn’t look inclined to let it go easily. Before Will could make some witty retort, however, the alarm blared through the space around them, setting everyone off into an instinctual set of movements to man to trucks.

“Saved by the bell,” Graham said as Killian and he headed into the house to gear up. Killian shook his head, knowing he shouldn’t engage in the teasing any longer. Now was the time to get serious again and focus entirely on doing things right and getting to whatever situation awaited them, but he couldn’t help pointing out an obvious fact to Graham.

“And you’ve been saved from speculation by me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the lack of scrutiny you’ve gotten with your own detective,” Killian said and Graham laughed.

“Fair enough.”

Grabbing their gear and manning their stations was second nature to most everyone in the house. The rigorous training they’d all gone through and the years of experience most of the people on this team had made for a well-oiled machine that performed even as the harsh tones of the alarm droned on and on. This was a familiar dance to all of them, and for Killian that continued wailing sound was what put him in the headspace he needed. It got him moving at top speed and kept him vigilant to the others, making sure they all filed into place with speed and efficiency all in one.

Once on the trucks, they got the basics from their dispatch team – fire in progress in a warehouse on the south side of their district by the docks. There wasn’t as of yet an alarm number garnered, but from the description the 9-11 call had made, it was shaping up to be a big one.

The ride from the firehouse to the docks was mercifully smooth without the added burden of rush hour traffic before them all, but it would never be truly easy maneuvering one of these engines through city streets. If he’d had space in his mind to do more than focus on the possibilities a warehouse fire could bring, Killian would likely applaud his team members manning these vessels right now.

By the time they arrived, station thirty-two was already on site and making moves to start an offensive against the blaze and when Killian touched base with their Captain the plan was made clear. This would be a three-pronged fight: They’d attack from the exterior, the lower levels and a special unit entering from higher above. Thirty-two would provide the higher reaches and some exterior work, leaving Killian and Graham leading the majority of their team inside.

Conversation was brief, with just the basic directions of the plan in place, and though there was some idea of what they might be walking into, none of them were stupid enough to think they could totally anticipate this fire. That should have gone unspoken and be branded in the minds of every fighter on this team, but Killian repeated that sentiment again for the record into his headset.

“We all come home tonight, and we do that by sticking the course and following orders. You got that?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” his team responded and then they were off, cutting through the smoke and flame to try and do their job and prevent more damage to this section of the docks.

Visibility in the warehouse was low thanks to the billowing smoke, but it wasn’t the worst Killian had ever been through, and at first he was confident in every move his team made. They made note of what corners and portions could be swept through first, and the primary objective was to see if anyone was inside. This wasn’t a residential building, but there was always the chance with big spaces like this of someone coming in for some reason and not being accounted for. They needed to clear every corner they could and then start the hard work, but all through this each member of their team knew when to call out and check in.

“We’ve got a problem, Sergeant,” Will called out at one point and then he flashed his light towards a far corner that had a half a dozen large drums of a material they couldn’t ascertain from this distance. “Probably flammable; could go up and mess up the whole structure.”

“Thirty-two be advised we’ve got a possible accelerant on the north side along the walls. Abort entry,” Killian said into the radio, hearing the acknowledgment of the other team just before a blast came from those tubs. The force of the blast was harsh and harrowing, and just as Will had expected it created a host of problems, not the least of which was the added instability of the beams above them.

“Tink, where are we out outside?” Killian asked, already anticipating her response.

“Those flames spiked high sir, and it’s infiltrated the warehouse next door. We’re trying to control it.”

Damnit! Killian thought to himself. That would change the plan and just as he was formulating their need to get out of here, Graham mirrored his thoughts with a proclamation of his own.

“It’s too hot in here, Serg! We gotta tackle this thing outside!” Graham exclaimed and Killian agreed, ordering everyone out of there now, but from the corner of his eye Killian noticed one of his men lagging behind. It was Gus, their probie, and his staggered movements and bent over frame immediately told Killian what was wrong: the smoke was getting to him and so something must be wrong with his suit.

“Get everyone out!” Killian ordered Graham and then without thought for anything else Killian sprinted back the extra distance, grabbing onto Gus just as it seemed his body might give way.

The man’s knees went weak, but he was conscious and that was something. Killian tried to tell him to hold on, but all of this was pure instinct now. He had to make a way for them out of this and it was easier said than done. Gus wasn’t a tiny guy by any means, but Killian had carried more and been through worse. He didn’t have any real fears until a portion of the rafters above came down, blocking their original path out and separating them from the rest of the team.

“Damn it!” Killian yelled to no one in particular, but he scouted another way, not letting himself fear what he had to do. Right now the key was survival and getting him and Gus out of there as fast as he could.

It was hard to find an answer right away, and that wasn’t helped by the continued calls on his attention from the others through their headsets. He begged them all for quiet and to keep going, but with every passing second doubt crept in. Then when a path seemed impossible to find, Killian felt this unfamiliar need welling inside him. He couldn’t accept defeat – he had to keep going. There was too much to fight for, and one woman in particular who he had to see again. He had to get out of here and then home to see her.

Clutching onto that feeling that he could not fail, Killian meandered around the wreckage and got them to the exit, but he could feel the damage to his suit when they made it into the blinding brightness of outside and knew he’d nicked himself a few places and risked a few burns. Graham was right about those temps, it was too hot in there, and he was gasping for air by the time they got outside.

“We need some help over here!” Graham yelled as he and Killian looked over a clearly dazed Gus who was spread out on the ground a safe distance from the blaze.

Graham made quick work of checking Gus’ equipment and saw the fracture in his mask and mouthpiece, making note of it to Killian. Now the only question was had that been there when Gus grabbed it before, and if so, did the man realize how bloody dangerous it was to go into a fire without every piece of equipment working at top ability? At the same time the EMTs responded, treating Gus and assessing that there was some damage from the inhalation and a mild concussion from some of the jerked motions Killian had to make to get them out but nothing terribly serious.

“We gotta take him to Mass Gen, but it doesn’t look life threatening,” Thomas said leading Killian to sigh in relief. Well that was one thing they didn’t have to worry about.

“Wouldn’t have been able to say the same thing if you hadn’t gone back for him, Serg” Will noted and Killian shook his head, not wanting them all to get sidetracked.

“We can hash it all out later. Right now we’ve got to be mindful. We can’t take our eyes off of this,” Killian said, mentally calculating that everyone on his team was now outside and safely battling the flames. They were and that gave him some small comfort.

“There’s no we right now, Sarg. You’ve gotta get checked out too. Last thing we need is you falling apart on us” Will argued, all of his teasing from before long gone. There was almost a command in his friend’s voice, as if he were the superior in this situation. It made Killian laugh, but the sound came out harsh and grating and provided no comfort for any of the others.

“I’ve got this for now,” Graham promised and Killian nodded, knowing it was better to let them clear him in the ambulance and keep his eye on things from afar then to fight them on it and find out there was trouble later.

In the end Killian was willing to give the paramedics twenty minute of time and in that they confirmed that his own injuries were minimal. He heard the phrase ‘close call’ a few more times than he would have liked, but Killian also knew they were right. His suit had managed to take most of the hit today, but he’d have some aches and pains for a few days, and he was a little cut up here and there. As it was he was damn lucky, and so was Gus. This whole scenario could have played out very differently.

But Killian wouldn’t let himself linger on that. Instead he returned to his post by the ladder and with his people until they were called off and relieved. The blaze was dying down (thanks to the milder weather that meant the water wasn’t freezing as it would have just a few days ago) by the time his team departed, and all along the ride home there was silence as if the crew knew just how near they’d been to a more tragic afternoon. Only when they were back at the house did Will speak up.

“Shift’s over in twenty minutes and I’m sure probie will still be at Mass Gen.”

The chorus of agreements signaled to Killian that they’d all be going to see him, but Killian didn’t think he could face that today. He needed the space to get his head on straight before going to see Gus, otherwise he ran the risk of berating the poor kid for his rookie mistake. From the way Graham said nothing and stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, Killian took that his Lieutenant felt the same way.

“I’ll brief the Captain on what happened and check on Gus after. Maybe by then I’ll stand a chance of not reading him the riot act.”

“I appreciate it, mate,” Killian said readying himself to get out of here. He was in need of a shower and some clean clothes and then he’d be heading directly to Emma’s. Well that was if she could see him, which he desperately hoped she could.

“Tink will take you home,” Graham said and Killian started to refuse but it was Tink who put her foot down.

“Don’t even start. You’re going home and that’s that.”

Killian decided not to argue and figured the slight delay wouldn’t kill him. Though he didn’t want to have to be patient, Killian would be to put his crew at ease and it would give him time to get himself a bit more under control before he saw Emma. Without that chance he might just take her in his arms and never let go.

“Hey Sergeant?” Graham called out later when Killian was just about to leave with Tink. Killian turned back to his colleague, finding his friend looking serious.  “When we were joking earlier about who has which job, I didn’t mean anything by it, and if I had, I definitely wouldn’t mean it after today. This house needs you.”

“A Sergeant is only as good as his team, Graham. You’ll learn that soon enough,” Killian offered, slapping his new friend on the shoulder in an unspoken salute of thanks before heading out in the hopes of finding Emma, the woman who had unintentionally seen him through today in a truly miraculous way.

…………

Distractions while on duty weren’t something that Emma or Ruby often found themselves subject to. There was a state of mind both friends entered when they were officially on the clock and serving this city that they didn’t mess with. They prided themselves on being on their A game anytime they donned their badge, but today a wrench was thrown in their usual way of doing things and it all stemmed from one call that came over the radio:

“We’ve got a possible four alarm in progress at 69 Harrison. Be advised that firehouses sixty-one and thirty-two are en route and patrol from District three is clearing the area and setting a perimeter.”

That warning had been sent out three hours ago and the fire had been roaring away steadily according to the updates Ruby and Emma had been able to get. They weren’t able to sit on the radio waves listening because they still had work to do, but the situation wasn’t far from either of their minds. It followed them through secondary interviews from an incident from the last shift, consulting with some academy teachers who wanted them to give a lecture on rising through the ranks, and a drive-by check of one of the local businesses where the owner was wary of people casing for an easy robbery mark.

But finally when their shift was over, Emma and Ruby came to the unspoken agreement that they were sticking together until there was word one way or another. Now they were sitting at the counter of the bar just across the way from the station and waiting over a drink for what Emma had to believe would be a routine end to a pretty bad fire. She couldn’t let herself linger in thoughts that something could go wrong because this was their reality. Killian was a firefighter and he loved what he did. Emma had seen that same dedication when it came to her Dad and his work too, and that passion and capability would keep him safe. It just had to.

At the same time though, Emma was craving some kind of closeness with Killian right now, and she’d found it with what Ruby acknowledged was a peculiar choice in drink for her. Rum wasn’t usually Emma’s go to choice, but Killian liked it and the other night when he’d invited her to his apartment for the first time it was all he’d had to offer. It was nice though, and the taste and burn on her tongue helped zap away some of the underlying current of worry and reminded her of the kisses they’d subsequently shared that night at his place.

“How did your Mom do this for so long?” Ruby asked, clearly feeling the uncertainty a little more than Emma currently was.

That’s not to say that Emma wasn’t worried; there were a lot of factors when it came to firefighting that could put Killian and his crew at risk, and it wasn’t exactly the safest line of work by any means, but Mary Margaret Nolan had always been a beacon of strength and hope when her husband was called into the line of duty and she’d passed that onto Emma. You couldn’t worry until the problems came. That wasn’t any way to live.

“A lot of cocoa and a lot of random hobbies. You know all those needlepoint signs my parents have in their house?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded. “Those started one summer when there were a string of arson cases in my Dad’s district, and they just never stopped.”

“Well if I follow in your mother’s footsteps you can be damn sure I’ll drink something stronger than hot chocolate and have dirtier puns on my pillow cases,” Ruby said, trying to joke with Emma despite the continued unease.

“I could help you with some of those if you want,” a voice said from behind them and when they turned around it was Graham. Immediately Ruby was in motion, pulling him down for a kiss that totally disregarded everyone in the place, Emma included. But when they came back up for air (after a rather long and passionate interlude), Graham looked mighty pleased with the warm welcome. “Well hello to you too.”

“Is the fire out?” Emma asked and Graham turned to her with an answer at the ready.

“Almost. We got relieved half an hour ago, though. I’m about to head to Mass Gen and check on one of our guys.”

Emma’s face must have given her concern away though she tried to conceal it as best she could, but when Graham filled in that it was one of the new people on the squad and that Killian was the one who got him out, Emma’s heart restarted again. Killian was safe – and that was what mattered.

“I usually wouldn’t say this – we’ve got fire house superstitions after all – but this one was pretty close, Emma. Killian’s a tough guy, but anyone would be a little shaken up after what he went through. I don’t even know how he managed it honestly.”

“Is he at the station?” Emma asked, already grabbing her jacket, ready to go.

“No, he’s home. I had Tink make sure he got there and I just got a text to confirm it. Maybe you should -,”

“I think Emma’s got a plan already, Graham,” Ruby said, nodding at Emma in a silent exchange. Emma knew if she needed anything Ruby would be there for her and she appreciated it, but right now all she needed was to see Killian and make sure he was really okay.

Getting out of the bar and back to her car, Emma tried to map out exactly what to do here. She and Killian had only been dating a couple of weeks and it was still new and fresh between them, but she wanted to be what Killian needed today and she was also a little selfish in wanting the comfort of being with him too. Despite the brave face she’d held the past few hours she was worried, and the only relief for that built up emotion would be seeing Killian again.

Emma debated calling him and reaching out to check that coming over was even a good idea, and then she considered bringing something with her, but she was at a loss. What did you bring someone who fought a fire and nearly lost? She didn’t know the answer, and when it was her parents in that situation, her Dad always said the best remedy was coming home to his family. They might not be at that level yet, but Emma did know that she mattered to Killian, and if there was even a chance that her presence would help him then she needed to give him that.

Just as Emma parked her car in front of Killian’s loft, her phone rang and the sound split through Emma’s internal planning about what to say and how to act and jolted her back to the present. Emma fully intended to ignore whoever was on the other end of this call, but then she saw it was Killian and she knew she had to answer even as she was crossing the street to get to him right now.

“Killian,” Emma said, not having anything else but him name that she could think to say right now, and from the relieved sigh on the other end of the phone he didn’t seem to mind.

“God it’s good to hear your voice, love.”

“Rough day?” She asked, already knowing it had been worse than rough and Killian let out a half-hearted chuckle.

“I’ve certainly had better,” he said as Emma managed to slip inside the building when another tenant was leaving. She headed up the stairs two at a time as he made a request that warmed her heart. “I was wondering... is there any way I might see you tonight, love? I know you’ve had a long day of your own but…”

“I think that might be arranged,” Emma agreed and before Killian could reply with any kind of particulars, she knocked at his front door and found him on the other side looking downright thrilled to see her.

“Emma,” he said, forgetting his phone and pulling her into his arms quickly.

She melted into Killian’s embrace without hesitation and then she closed her eyes, trying to deal with the fact that the smell of smoke still lingered on him. It was just another reminder for her of what Graham had said – they’d had a real close call today and she could have possibly lost this man she’d only just found. To combat the swell of emotion that thought brought, Emma tried to ground herself in the fact that he was really here.

Beyond the smoke was the familiar scent that she’d come to associate with Killian, and the warmth of his arms around her. She felt that same comfort that only Killian ever provided and Emma felt even more secure in her choice to come here as he mumbled relieved words. They were whispered so low she couldn’t hear much more than the slight lilt of his action and the reverent tone but they were perfect all the same.

Finally Emma pulled back to look at him and she took everything in, wiping away a slight smudge of black soot he’d missed from his handsome face and noticing the scratches he’d accrued in today’s action. If she had to guess he’d be a little worse for wear all over, but he was here and whole and that was the most important thing.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, clearly still stunned.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she confessed.

With that Emma pressed a kiss to his lips that went from soft and sweet to heated all too fast. Emma understood why that was. They were both trying to find a way to channel the immense emotions in the room, but she didn’t want to get so caught up in the physical that she wasn’t really there for Killian. So as hard as it was to pull back, Emma did so, looking back into his eyes that now seemed slightly warmer and offering a small smile.

“The way I see it we have to options. You tell me what happened today over some rum, or we actively avoid what happened today, also with rum. Your call.”

Killian’s smile actually reached his eyes in that moment, and he ran his thumb along her cheek, gazing at her with this mix of affection and awe that made Emma feel like she was so much more powerful than she felt. The only thing she could offer Killian right now was company and maybe the comfort of listening, but he made her feel like she was the answer to all of his problems with a simple look.

“You are remarkable, Emma. I hope you know that,” he whispered, sending a thrill of pleasure through her. Then he took her hand in his and led her to the couch as he went to go get them two glasses and the bottle of rum she knew that he had here. When he was back, Killian made sure to keep no distance between them, and Emma was pulled into his arms, loving that way that she was so wrapped up in him and connected like this.

“So what’s the verdict?” Emma asked and Killian chuckled shaking his head.

“Part of me is tempted to take you up on the offer of avoidance, but I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn’t do that anymore. Better to face the darkness head on than suffer the fall out later.”

Emma was so relieved to hear that he felt that way, because she’d always seen things that way in her line of work too. Her parents taught her from the start of her time on the force that bad things would happen. Cases would go south in an instant, people would get hurt or worse, and the good guys didn’t always win despite what the fairy tales said. But the only way through pain was to face it, and the only way to keep in jobs like these was to acknowledge the risk and to accept that things happened for a reason, even if there was no explanation you could understand.

“Graham said something about the probie…” Emma urged on and Killian nodded.

“Aye, Gus. He’s a good man but wet behind the ears. He should have seen the problem before it got so bad – his mask was damaged even before we faced the flames - but he’s still new and he’s still got that need for the action over safety. He hasn’t yet learned that a fire doesn’t care if your heart’s in the right place. Destruction comes to anything that stands in its path and today it could have taken him.”

“But you didn’t let that happen,” Emma said, not knowing the full details but instinctively guessing that Killian would always be mindful of the men and women of his house.

“No, I didn’t. But it wasn’t easy, and there was a moment in there when I… when I thought I might have made the wrong call. I couldn’t see a way out of there, but I had to.”

Emma’s hand ran along his chest as she stayed tucked into him. She could feel the tightness in her throat as it constricted with residual fear. God that must have been terrifying – knowing that you were trying to save someone and that you might have just sacrificed yourself in the process. But it was also a spike in fear and emotion that she understood. She’d been in a few touch and go firefights before, had a few close calls where a bulletproof vest had made the difference between her coming home that night and never coming home again, but the fear was always there every time. Even if it was your instinct to protect others, it didn’t make you feel brave, at least it never had for Emma.

“I thought of you in that moment, Emma. That moment when I didn’t know if we’d get through that door, you were there. I heard your voice and thought to myself that I couldn’t have heard it for the last time. I couldn’t never see your smile again or watch the way your whole person lights up when you laugh. I had to get out of there, and so I did.”

“Killian, I -,”

Killian put their glasses back down on the table before them before bringing Emma to face him completely. His earnestness in this moment was almost overwhelming, and the tears that had been forming through some of his professions about how much she meant to him became that much more prominent. He noticed them too, and Emma could hear the tautness of his tone as a response.

“Look, Emma, I don’t want to rush things or make you feel like you have to feel a certain way, but I’ve known for a while that what we’re doing here… it’s bigger than anything I’ve done in my past. Being with you brings more than mere happiness to my world, love. It’s like when I’m with you, I’ve the remedy to move past everything else.”

Emma bit her lip, wanting to say the same thing to him because she could feel this connection he was talking about. A lot of her old fears and worries were assuaged by Killian’s presence. He was a positive force in her life that didn’t take, take, take, but gave her so much instead. Nothing about Killian was contrived or forced – he was totally genuine and that was so amazing to her, because it meant that all the intense emotions she had about him were actually mirrored back. For once she wasn’t terrified of getting hurt. She trusted this man with her heart and she had given that trust to him faster than she’d ever been able to with anyone else.

“It’s like I said though, love, I don’t expect anything. I just -,”

In that moment, Emma couldn’t stand to hear him second guessing himself and she silenced his worries with another kiss. This time though, Emma didn’t care about getting carried away, in fact she felt free to push for so much more with Killian because of what they’d just shared. This level of openness and honesty was invigorating even where it once would have terrified her and today Killian had let himself be vulnerable with her, which truly led Emma to believe that she could do the same with him. With Killian taking the risk didn’t actually seem so risky, and walking away from the way she felt right now with him flush against her and seeking out more, just wasn’t an option.

“This is different for me too,” Emma said when they pulled back, her eyes fluttering open in time to see the adorably smitten look on Killian’s face right now. It made her whole body heat even more than the kiss had and it prompted her further with her confessions. “And I’m not exactly an expert when it comes to relationships, but I think if we’ve found something like this we should go for it, fast or not.”

“God I love the sound of that,” Killian said, and the undeniable honesty in the way he said it was the final breaking point for her. Suddenly Emma was so far past her more honorable intentions of before, and all she wanted was her and Killian as close as they could be. 

Killian must have understood her shifts in need, and he was hardly unhappy with the prospect, sweeping her up with him to his bedroom (despite the injuries she knew he must have), and taking her breath away with kisses and attentions that never stopped. He was everywhere all at once, but still Emma wanted more and she knew just how to get it. With a firm push against his chest, she separated them, moving to strip away her clothes from today with a clear, slow intent.

“You gonna just stand there or are you going to join me?” Emma asked after a few seconds of watching Killian take her in. His eyes on her fed this part of Emma that had gone hungry for so long and she felt powerful and wanted in a way that she loved. But she also wanted him with her, and she wanted them both so lost in each other that they forgot everything about today and pushed past it to something so much more desirable.

“Can’t fault a man for looking, love. You’re like heaven itself.”

Emma flushed at the compliment, but she was determined to make him move so she could get her chance to look her fill too. So when she was just about to remove her bra she stalled, flicking up a suggestive smile to this man who was totally focused on her.

“Lose the clothes, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

This time Killian quickly responded but there was a look in his eyes that said he was humoring her. She might have just given the command, but it was only a matter of time before he turned the tables and used that sexy as sin voice and his all too fantastic skill in making her mindless with pleasure against her. Just the thought had her mind racing, and by the time he’d actually gotten around to stripping away his shirt and pants she was shaking with the anticipation of everything that was coming.

When both of them were bared to each other, Emma stopped trying to fight for any control and she pulled him down for another scorching kiss as he maneuvered them to the bed. It was a dizzying kind of thrill as Killian’s hands and mouth roamed against her naked flesh, and her heart pounded in her ears even as her whole body hummed out this sound of joy. She was so ready for this, and the incidents of their day had only made that sharp need for him so much keener. What if they’d lost this? Emma couldn’t imagine this being over before it even really had the chance to begin.

Eventually Killian broke away from their hungry kiss and moved down her jaw to her neck and found that spot that always drove her crazy so quickly she had to moan and arch into him, but he had other ideas. The frazzled sense of awe he’d just had was long gone and instead he was all willful command. Killian was totally in control and from the flash of dark heat in his blue eyes Emma knew she was about to reap the benefits of that meticulous worship.

“A bit impatient aren’t we, love?” Killian asked teasingly, with his hot breath against her neck and driving her crazy.

“Can you blame me?” Emma asked, not even bothering to deny it and Killian chuckled as his kisses moved lower along her flesh until he was at her breasts and smiling with that almost infuriatingly attractive grin of his.

“Not when I want you even more than you can possibly imagine.”

Emma was going to argue that that seemed unlikely since he was the one making this a slow, meticulous exploration instead of the hard and fast release she knew he wanted, but then he was peppering her sensitive flesh with just the right mix of kisses, nips, and sucks designed to totally unwind her resistance.

And yes, maybe there was a chance that Emma could have pushed through that onslaught of pleasure to get him to go faster, but the only thing in her mind right now was that Killian needed this. Today had been too close and too dangerous, and now he was reminding them both of what they’d found together and what was waiting for them if they made it through the hard times and back into each other’s arms.

In the midst of his glorious attentions to her breasts, Killian’s hand trailed down her stomach creeping to the vee between her legs where Emma so desperately needed relief. The ache for him was straining to be released, and Killian’s quick attentions to her clit were designed to spark that coiling need into something so much more fulfilling. Before Emma even imagined it could be possible she was falling apart and calling out his name, and when she came down from that haze of perfect feeling, the look in Killian’s eyes was almost wild. He seemed addicted to making her come apart, and Emma swallowed harshly almost fearing just how much he was going to give her to sate that need on his part tonight.

She didn’t have time to worry long though, not when Killian’s mouth moved lower and lower in a rough then reverent way that would likely leave marks on her skin tomorrow. Emma didn’t mind those abrasions. Actually she reveled in the thought that come the morning she’d have those spots of his creation to remind her of this moment right here, when Killian made her feel like anything was possible and she was destined to feel this good every damn day.

By the time he’d gotten to her inner thigh, Emma was pulsing with the need to have his mouth on her sex. Craving that feeling wasn’t even a strong enough word for it – Emma thought she might die without it, and then he was there and she was gone for him all over again. It was pure magic, the feel of Killian making love to her this way and when she’d fallen apart by his ministrations again and was close to another shattering climax she pleaded with him to give them both more.

“Killian – I need you, please.”

Emma wasn’t certain if it was the please or the expression of her need for him, but he mercifully responded by coming back up to her and taking her lips in a hard kiss again. This time she could taste herself and it felt so damn intimate and dirty and fucking perfect, but that was nothing to the moment when he thrust inside her, filling Emma with that feeling of total completion.

The string of curses from Killian made Emma want to laugh but she didn’t have the chance when he was dead set on creating a rhythm that was as close to heaven sent as could be. She wanted to be frustrated at the fact that he’d done so much for her without giving her the chance to return the favor, but his continued praise that he lavished her with as he propelled them further told Emma that Killian had gotten exactly what he wanted. And in the end, all Emma could do was claw at him to get closer and plead for more of the same because she was so freaking close until suddenly she was there, falling apart and loving the fact that she’d brought him with her.

In the aftermath of that earth shattering release, Emma and Killian stayed curled up together in his bed, silently allowing their hands to roam. It was a calmer sense of searching, but Emma didn’t have to look very hard to find what she was looking for. Killian brought her this sense of peace and belonging that she’d never known before, and from the smile on his face and the light in his eyes, Emma knew he was feeling it too. What they had couldn’t be denied in anyway, and that fact led Emma to say something she’d been wanting to find the bravery to say for a while.

“I’m going to tell them,” she whispered and Killian’s brow furrowed at the words.

“Tell them?” he asked, not following her thoughts, which were admittedly random.

“I’m going to tell my parents the truth,” Emma said and Killian’s arms tensed for just a second until Emma ran her hand across his chest soothingly. “I’m going to tell them that this is real - that we are real - and that in a few weeks when the mayor’s office is tired of using us a PR prop, you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Damn right, I’m not,” Killian growled, making Emma giggle as he pulled her closer to him again. “But perhaps you could wait until morning, love. I have a few thoughts left on how to spend the evening, and they weren’t particularly conducive to seeing your folks.”

“Fair enough,” Emma agreed before sealing the agreement with a kiss and falling into this remarkable man all over again.