#deckhand!killian

“Killian,” she asks again, and he meets her eyes. “Have you ever seen a naked woman before?” He goes red again, a bashful, pained expression crossing his face as he looks down and shakes his head slowly.

“Only the mermaids,” he says quietly. “In Neverland,” he specifies. “And they were terrifying.” Emma remembers Killian using a wholly different word to describe the mermaids. 

She continues undressing, not asking him to look again, not wanting to force him into anything or make him any more uncomfortable than he already is. But he doesn’t leave and slowly, his eyes raise back up to her, following the movements of her hands as she sheds the outer layers of her dress until she’s left in only her corset and shift. 

She can see that he wants to look, to touch, but he’s afraid. Whether of not knowing how, of not being allowed to, she’s unsure, maybe both. But she can see the desire in his eyes, the pale blue swallowed by black, his lips parted, his breath uneven. She can even make out the tightening in his leather pants. But he still doesn’t move. Wow, Killian Jones, the virgin. 

She remembers Killian telling her about his first time. He was too young. She remembers that most of all. The men on Silver’s ship had brought him to a tavern and bought him a woman. He’d been nervous the whole time, awkward and unsure, could hear the men laughing and shouting crude things through the door. It had lasted two seconds and it was the worst two seconds of his life. It was awful. Neither he nor the woman had enjoyed it. 

She looks at him now, and she feels as though she’s looking at a younger version of him, one who’s unsure of himself, shy and sweet but still kind and brave despite what he thinks of himself. And the way he’s looking at her now, he may not be lusting after her the way Killian usually does, with desire and want and a clear intent of what he plans to do to her evident in his eyes… but he’s looking at her like she’s the freaking sun. Like he can’t look directly at her despite wanting to. There’s desire there and want but no plan, no idea what to do. And so he shrinks away. 

Emma bites her lip as she looks him over from head to toe. Yeah, she thinks, recognizing the ridiculousness of it all, she’s going to deflower Killian Jones. She’s going to give him a proper first time, find a way to erase the doubt and the self-loathing in his eyes and make him see himself for who he really is. 

Henry is sure to be above deck for another few hours sailing. She told him that she was going to change and then she was going to teach Killian swordplay - she smirks - so she’s not worried about any interruptions. Killian is still looking at her, looking at her as though she’s the most awe-inspiring thing he’s ever seen and she’s still fully clothed by her world’s standards. 

“Will you help me?” she asks, gesturing at the laces of her corset that are tied tightly behind her. She expects him to be flustered, to cough and stutter and shy away but instead he swallows, eyes raking over her. He clears his throat and nods, stepping forward. 

She turns around and he only hesitates for a moment as she gathers her hair and lifts it over her shoulder, his breath hitching, before he sets to work. He unlaces them painfully slowly, the sound of the string pulling through the loops the only sound in the room apart from their heavy breathing. It’s agony, a slow build up of tension as she feels his breath on her neck, his fingers warm where they touch her through the material of her shift and she wonders for a moment who exactly is supposed to be the blushing virgin right now. 

He finally gets all the laces undone and the corset falls to the floor. He hovers another moment and then steps back so she turns to face him. He casts his eyes to the floor again and she tells him it’s okay. He can look if he wants. His eyes drag slowly back up her shape, his breathing ragged again, though whether more from desire or nerves she doesn’t know. 

She smiles, knowing she can’t tease him, that this version of him couldn’t take it, no matter how much her Killian enjoys a challenge and a little word play. No, she’ll be sweet with him, with this man who is looking at her with reverence and awe. She pulls the laces of her shift free and it slowly slides to the floor with her dress. 

She’s naked now, standing before him fully clothed and the way he’s looking at her is causing goosebumps to rise on her skin, her nipples to tighten and the beginnings of an ache to stir between her legs. She’s never been someone’s first before but she’s going to treat it like the honour it is. Will take more care with him than Neal did with her, than that woman did with Killian. 

She sees his throat bob and his brow pull up as he looks at her. He looks at her like it physically hurts to do so, his hand clenching at his side, his erection evident in his leathers. It gives her confidence, how clearly he wants her. She steps forward and he stiffens, eyes snapping up to her face. 

“Do you want to touch me?” she asks. He doesn’t speak but he swallows again and nods. She smiles softly, takes his hand in hers and lifts it to her breast. She watches his face, the desire and the uncertainty and even the curiosity playing across it. He touches her for just a second, instinct taking over and she gasps, arching against his hand just a little. She knows that hand so well, knows what it can do, knows how it feels on every inch of her. 

He drops his hand, stepping back. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, worry and fear in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have -” 

She takes his hand again to stop him leaving, cuts off his apology. “It’s okay,” she tells him. “I liked it.”

His eyes go wide, shock and disbelief on his features. She lets his hand go, waits for him to make the next move. He steps towards her again, his hand raised between them, not quite sure of himself but a little more confident than he’d been a moment ago. But he’s still not touching her and she can tell he wants to say something, wants to ask her something. She waits until he’s ready. 

“Can I -” he starts, hesitates. Always hesitating. “May I kiss you?” he asks.  His voice is so low it’s practically a whisper, like he’s ashamed to ask. Her heart tightens. She wants to grab him and kiss the ever living hell out of him but she knows she can’t. This time, he really couldn’t handle it. 

He’s not looking at her so she says “yes.” He looks at her with both shock and relief, clearly having expected rejection. He steps forward again and she’s almost proud of him, thrilled to see he’s gaining confidence. He raises his hand to her cheek, brushes it softly with shaky fingers before curling into her hair and cupping her face. He steps forward again, into her space so that she can feel the heat of him, can feel his breath on her face, his forehead all but resting against hers and her body is screaming at her to just kiss him, but he pauses. 

“I don’t… I’ve never…” he starts and she can feel his resolve weakening, fears that he’s going to pull away. She knows she’ll have to take the lead with most things tonight. But she wants him to have this. Wants him to initiate this moment, to take what he wants and know that he did. She steps forward, their lips not quite brushing and tilts her head, hand on his chest, waiting for him to close the distance between them.

Yes! She thinks when he does. There’s a lack of finesse to the kiss, a lack of skill, or really any movement at all. He simply presses his lips to hers, inhales deeply and basks in the feel of her against him for a moment. 

He pulls away after a second and Emma’s worried that he’s going to stop, that he’ll let his self-doubt get the best of him and change his mind so she doesn’t give him the chance, leaning back in and kissing him again. It’s a little awkward as - after his initial shocked ‘oomph’ - he tries to figure out how to move his mouth over hers. She can feel his heart racing under her palm. 

But he’s a quick study, copying her movements at first and then slowly letting instinct take over until slowly he relaxes, letting himself fall into it. And he’s good at it. Maybe not as good as her Killian, but well on his way, enough that she can feel her blood heating and her body calling to him and she presses into him. 

He gasps and she takes the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth. And his reaction is amazing. For a second, he stops being the scared deckhand and he reaches for her, pulling her to him, tilting her head back so he can lick into her mouth, grinding against her hips, his hand all over. Emma gets lost in it, the feel of him pressed against her, his mouth on hers, his tongue and lips and teeth exploring and tasting and devouring and she needs more. 

She reaches for the buttons of his vest, undoes one, and he freezes, pulling back suddenly. She lets him but doesn’t allow him to move far, bringing her hand to his cheek. She spooked him, she realises, snapped him out of whatever daze of lust he’d been in and brought back all the doubt he has in himself. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” she promises. “We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to. We can just keep doing this.” He looks at her and relaxes a little but he doesn’t seem to want to stop, leaning into her unwittingly. “But,” she starts tentatively. “I want to touch you too… if that’s alright.” He’s hesitant for another moment before he presses his forehead to hers and nods, a little eagerly too, which is sweet considering how unsure he is. 

She kisses him again, soothing him, letting him relax before she undoes the buttons of his vest, slowly, giving him time to change his mind, and then moves on to his shirt. He’s shaking when she’s done and she slides her hands over the sliver of revealed skin and hair. He gasps into her mouth again, stomach muscles jumping under her touch. She looks at him as she pushes the material from his shoulders, watching for any hint of discomfort or uncertainty but instead he just looks like he wants. He might not know what he wants but she’s excited for him to find out.

The shirt falls to the floor and she slides her fingers back up his arms, his own coming to her hip and she fiddles with the straps of his brace, not sure what he’d prefer. Killian takes it off sometimes, leaves it on others, it depends on how much of a rush they’re in really. But the Killian in front of her looks unsure, he hesitates. 

“It’s - It’s not pretty,” he tells her. 

“We can leave it on, if you want.” She doesn’t tell him that she’s seen it because she knows that doesn’t matter. What matters is that this version of him hasn’t shown it to her and she leaves that his decision to make. After a moment, he raises his hands to the straps and slowly unlatches them, fiddling with the complicated bits and then sliding it off his arm. 

Emma trails her fingers down to his wrist and he looks away, at the wall and then at the floor, his breath catching when she touches the scars. There’s that self-loathing again. She raises his arm to her lips, places a kiss to the scars there and his eyes snap to hers. The way he looks at her makes her wonder if he’s ever been shown a moment of kindness in his life. 

She’s actually caught off guard when he kisses her again, a little forcefully, his hand finding its way to her hair and fisting in it, tilting her head and pushing his tongue into her mouth with a passion and a certainty that makes her forget which Killian she’s with. His wrist comes around her hips, pulling her to him as she runs her hands over his chest, his back, his sides until he pulls back with a gasp. 

“Can I touch you again?” he asks, strained but without the hesitation from before.

“Yes,” she breathes. “You don’t have to ask.” 

He’s still hesitant when he brings his hand to her breast but she’s pretty sure it’s more about not knowing what to do than not believing he can or should. She’s already worked up and the heat of his skin on hers makes her whimper and he grows bolder, his touch becoming more insistent, more intent, playing with her nipple and sliding down the skin of her stomach, making it flutter under his fingers. 

His palm slides around to her back so he can pull her in closer again, covering her mouth with his and she groans, rolls her hips against his. A needy desperate sound escapes him as his hand slips lower, grabbing hold of her ass and pulling her harder against the ridge in his pants. 

She takes hold of his hips, turning him and leading him towards the bed at the back of the room. She pushes down on his shoulders, making him sit and smiles at the way he reaches for her with hand and wrist and lips when she pulls back. She kneels down in front of him, reaching for the laces of his leathers and he doesn’t stop her but he looks more nervous than he has yet. 

She finishes unlacing him and then reaches down to pull his boots off one at a time. He looks at her again in that way that breaks her heart, like he’s surprised by her kindness, by care. She reaches for the waist of his pants and slides them down slowly, still giving him a chance to change his mind. He lifts his hips to help her pull them off. He’s watching her now, naked and awaiting judgement, so she smiles at him, letting her tongue peek out to lick at her bottom lip and watching the desire flash in his eyes before she straightens a little so she can kiss him. 

His hand comes to her hair again but falls to the sheets beside him when she trails her lips down his neck, across his collarbone and down his chest to his stomach, the amazing, desperate sounds he’s making spurring her on. She can tell he’s right on the edge already, that it will only take a second to bring him to his climax and she knows that that might disappoint him - especially if he’s inside of her when it happens. 

So she takes him in hand and he cries out, falling to his elbows before her. She pumps him once before deciding to really give him something to cry out about and takes him into her mouth. He only tries to protest, for the sake of her honour, for a second before she wraps her lips around him and he loses all sense of words or thoughts. He curses, a slew of swears she’s heard and some she hasn’t, some she’s pretty sure are in another language, as she runs her lips and tongue over him. 

It’s barely a minute before he comes in her mouth and when she looks up at him he looks so blissed out, so boneless that she wants to laugh. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t want him to take it the wrong way. She caresses him gently, stroking his cock and his thighs and his stomach as he comes back to himself. Once the ecstasy has faded from his features though, disappointment takes its place and she frowns, confused. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and he avoids looking at her again. 

“I just - I mean I was hoping to… I wanted to make you… as well.. I thought…”

She understands then. Understands that he thinks this is over and that he wanted to be with her completely but doesn’t feel right asking for more. She smiles at him. 

“There’s still time for that,” she says and he perks up just a little. “And now, it’ll last longer so you can really enjoy it,” she tells him. He bites his lip and scratches his ear. 

“And you,” he starts. “Will you enjoy it?” he asks and she smiles. Always so considerate, her Killian. 

“Yes,” she tells him. “If you help me.”

“How?” he demands quickly, eagerly and he blushes at her smile. “I mean, it seems like bad form to leave a woman unsatisfied. Especially after that,” he explains. She raises an eyebrow at him. Not quite as suave as he usually is but not bad. 

“I -” he starts again. “I want to please you,” he confesses, but holds her gaze even as his cheeks burn. Her heart melts a little at this shy, nervous man fighting against his own anxiety to tell her that he wants to make her feel good. She really lucked out with Killian Jones, didn’t she?”

“Slide over,” she tells him, standing. He makes room for her on the bed and she lies down next to him, he on his side and she on her back. She takes his hand in hers again, toys with his fingers for a moment, with the familiar rings there, before bringing it to her breast once more. He’s less hesitant this time, quicker to act as he touches her, repeating some of the same brushes and flicks and pulls from before but watching her, weighing the sounds she makes and repeating the touches that make her gasp or cry out. What a quick study, she muses as she pulls his lips to hers again. 

He kisses her eagerly, deeply and wantonly as he touches her. His fingers continue to play with her nipple, sliding over to tease the other and then returning to the first. Emma’s skin is on fire. She’s squirming a little beneath him, heat pooling between her legs at his surprisingly talented ministrations and she’s pretty sure she’s going to go insane before she feels his hand slide down, between her breasts, over her stomach.

Yes, she practically moans. Good for him, she thinks with a smirk. His fingers reach her sex and she opens her legs for him, lets him slide between them and explore. His breath catches and then he groans with desperation, deepening his kiss when he feels her wet and hot under his hand. It’s a bit experimental, still unsure as he gets his bearings and Emma gives him time to figure it out, knowing this is the first time he’s touched a woman so intimately. 

He finds her opening and slides a finger in and her hand tightens in his hair. He pulls back and then pushes back in and Emma cries out, breaking their kiss as her head falls back against the pillow. He watches her with hooded eyes and swollen lips. He does it again and she cants her hips up against his hand. 

He continues in a steady rhythm, slowly, adding a second finger and checking for her reaction. She reaches down and pauses his movements, brings his thumb to her clit and circles it slowly. He looks at where he’s touching her, focused, lips parted and breathing heavy as she shows him how she likes to be touched. He follows her instructions willingly, so eager to please her, to bring her pleasure and she lets him go, lets him continue on his own. 

His thumb circles her, slowly building her higher and once he’s found his rhythm he begins pumping his fingers again at the same time. She lets out a choked moan and suddenly, somehow, she’s writhing under this shy deckhand and he’s watching her, lust burning in his eyes as he sees what he’s doing to her. 

His eyes rake over her, take a moment to watch, mesmerized, as his fingers disappear inside of her again and again, and then focus on her breasts, her nipples hard and stiff as she pants under him. He leans down, taking one in his mouth and holy fucking shit. 

She grabs at his hair, holding him in place as he swirls his tongue over the bud, his fingers continuing to drive her closer to the edge. She can feel him getting into it, encouraged by the litany of sounds escaping her, almost more excited at the idea of getting her off than he was at the idea of getting off himself, and he picks up his pace. 

Holy shit, she thinks as she feels the coil tightening inside of her, feels the sparks licking at her belly. Is she going to come from this? From his first go at it?

She feels him press against her thigh, hard and hot and swollen and she remembers that this is supposed to be about him. She forces herself to pull back and feels a little guilty when he looks disappointed and worried. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to - Did I do it wrong?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Trust me, you did it very, very right,” she tells him, still panting. His chest puffs up a bit and she smiles. “I just - want you,” she tells him and desire and lust darken his eyes, even as they mingle with the nervousness. 

“Oh,” he breathes. “Okay.” 

She pushes him onto his back feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the pounding of his heart under it. She lifts one leg slowly over him so that she can straddle him and his hand and wrist come to rest on her hips. They’re shaking and she asks him if he’s sure because he looks so scared. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she reminds him. “Or if you’re not ready.”

He shakes his head. “No, I want to,” he tells her. “I just… Gods, Emma, you’re so beautiful, and strong and brave and I’m -” 

“Beautiful,” she cuts him off. “Handsome. And kind, and sweet, and brave.” He’s going to protest so she leans over him and kisses him so that he can’t. 

She pulls back, kissing his neck again for a moment before she rises over him and takes him in her hand, lining him up with her entrance and sinking down over him. The sound he makes when her hips meet his isn’t one she’s ever heard him make before and also not one she thinks she’ll ever hear again, so she tries to remember it, the ecstasy and the wonder and the desperation. 

She gives him a moment, not moving, letting him enjoy the feeling of being inside her and watching him enjoy it. When he’s calmed a little, stopped whimpering softly with each breath, and his breathing is nearly back to normal, he looks at her and she waits. He nods, hand squeezing her hip and she starts moving. She goes slowly so that he can enjoy it and so that it’s not over too quickly. He may have come already but this is still his first time and she’s not expecting the kind of marathons they usually have. 

He lets her take control, going back and forth between watching her in awe and throwing his head back against the pillow. She enjoys both, likes the way his eyes rake over her, seeing how much he wants her, and liking the way the muscles in his neck stretch and tense as his jaw clenches and his mouth falls open. 

And the sounds he makes, god the sounds. Killian has always been vocal in bed, but it's usually words, praise and filth and encouragements. But these sounds, they’re raw and primal and desperate and she revels in them, each one shooting through her like a shock to her core. 

She debates bringing his hand to her clit again, but he’s so lost in his pleasure, his fingers digging into her hip so hard that she doesn’t think he could manage it right now. So she does it herself, touching herself and watching his face as she does. She so rarely gets to see him like this, he’s always been more of a giver than a taker but she loves the moments when he lets her worship him the way he always does her. 

He looks down at her hand between them, sees her fingers circling her clit and his lip pulls back over his teeth, desperate, needy breaths and gasps leaving him as it spurs him on, his hips rocking up into hers and she knows he’s close but she’s nearly there too. He’s holding out longer than she expected and she realises when she sees it in his eyes, when he brings a hand to her breast, rolls her nipple between his fingers that he’s trying to let her finish first. 

Always a gentleman, she muses. But between his hand on her and her fingers on her clit and the way he’s pulling her against him, pushing himself deeper, finding spots he shouldn’t be able to, it's not long before her back is bowing, hand falling to his chest, fisting at the hair there as she cries out. 

He sits up, wrapping his arms around her as she shakes, even as she continues to move over him and the change of angle sends another wave of pleasure through her. She sees his reaction when she clenches and flutters around him seconds before he cries out, burying his head in her neck and pulling her more tightly against him so that they’re flush from chest to hips. 

He’s shaking, trembling in her arms as his breath comes out in soft whimpers against her skin. She brushes her fingers through his damp hair, holding him tightly and turning her head to press kisses to his temple, his ear, his cheekbone, soothing him. 

When he stops shaking he pulls back but only enough so that he can cup her cheek and kiss her again, really kiss her. His lips slide over hers, tongue pushing past and licking into her mouth, panting against her as he nips and sucks at her lips. She’s dizzy by the time he finally breaks the kiss, presses his forehead to hers and closes his eyes, fingers still fisted in her hair.

“Thank you,” he says, low in his throat and she laughs. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” she assures him. 

“That was…” he pauses, searching for the right word. “Extraordinary.” She laughs softly and he lifts his face from hers, looks at her with wide eyes. “Was it… did you… enjoy it? I mean, it seemed like you did but-”

“I did,” she assures him. “A lot.” He looks at her with a slightly raised brow. “You were very good at it,” she tells him and can see the pride growing in his chest. 

“I understand now,” he says and she cocks her head. “Why they call it the little death. Surely I must have touched a piece of heaven, held a goddess in my arms.” She wants to laugh but this is the most fluent, the most Killian-like he’s sounded since she met him and it warms her heart to hear him speak without self doubt or hesitation. 

“I felt… it felt like…” he looks at her. “Have we done this before?” he asks. “In your world?”

She nods. “Yes. Many, many times. And you’ll remember it soon.” 

“Can we do it again?” he asks eagerly and she laughs. 

“I think we’ll have to wait, unfortunately, until we get home. Henry is going to start wondering where we are.” 

He nods, a little disappointed but understanding. “Well then, I look forward to returning to your reality. One where I’m somehow, someone worthy of a heroine, a saviour like you.”

“Stop that,” she says, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. She caresses his cheeks with her thumbs. “You were a hero today. You risked your life to help Henry save me. You were brave and you were noble. No coward could have done that.” 

His breath catches but he doesn’t protest despite the embarrassment on his face. She kisses him again and she can tell he’s trying to hang on to her, hang on to the moment just a little longer as he follows her lips, his fingers trailing down her back and then down her arm as she slowly rises from the bed and begins getting dressed. 

“I love you,” she hears him whisper from the bed behind her and it's so low she knows he didn’t mean for her to hear it. She knows, of course she knows. But she lets him pretend she didn’t hear, lets him keep his secret, knows that when she does say it, she needs to say it to the real him.