#drunk!emma

so her first birthday dating julian was spent on their travel year in mexico

she got to spend it with julian and cristina––her two best friends so she was really living for it

they had a great day and went out for dinner and such

full swing celebration and presents and lowered legal drinking age

she loved every second of it

in the past, she had never really wanted to impose on the blackthorns 

even though they always had parties for her, and got presents, and made a big deal, she was always saying how they didnt have to 

and plus sometimes she got sad that her parents werent around

but once she starts dating julian it’s full swing ahead she is officially allowed to make demands of him and you bet your ass she does

her birthweek is a thing and she lets no one forget it

she also never fails to bring up her half birthday, more as a joke than anything, but julian loves her and so he does actually start giving her half birthday presents and they both kind of want to hate it but at the same time no theyre too in love to really care

anyway her birthday is her favorite excuse for everything 

“dru, please come to the store with me”

“no”

“but my birthday is coming up!”

“it’s in two months!”

dru goes anyway

no one can forget her 21st birthday 

like of course emma had been drinking way before then and it’s not like she hadnt had a few drinks in front of the fam before but this is another story

she makes julian drive her around all day so she can purchase her own alcohol from literally anywhere she can

she proudly and drunkenly whips out her newly acquired mundane id in every bar to prove her age

she buys grocery store wine just because she can

by the time julian gets her back at the institute for her actually party she is so far gone

she is babbling on and on to julian as he is basically just carrying her up the stairs trying not to laugh at her

she looks down to see what she’s wearing and is so pleasantly shocked to find her favorite dress

she keeps asking julian where it’s from and if she can keep it - it’s just stupid shit like that all day

anyway they go through the door to find everyone waiting in the entryway

the blackthorns, cristina, diana, kieran, the carstairs fam, the tmi crew, etc etc

emma immediately lets go of julian, swaying only slightly, and proceeds to hug as many people as she can

“jace! why are you here??”

“it’s your birthday”

“oh yeah! hahahahaha-MAGNUS HI WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE”

“oh hello emma”

clary gives her a birthday crown and she nearly cries

diana is trying to communicate with julian over the huge crowd, because: “it isnt even 6:30 yet are you serious”

julian only shrugs with a smile and tells everyone to go upstairs for dinner

emma is telling a slightly terrified looking jem a story that is somehow louder than every other conversation happening

at one point julian, cristina, and mark are sitting and talking, emma next to julian, playing with the straw in her wineglass, oblivious to the conversation until she hears 

“no one is getting any tonight, emma is way too drunk”

she drops her wineglass

she vows to slow down but she also tells julian to ‘chug chug’ to catch up so theyll be even aswedxcrfv

anyway by the end of the night everyone had so much blackmail on her she never lives it down

but okay moving on

especially in the years immediately after the events of tda emma gets so touched by the blackthorns doing so much for her birthday

because it just showed that all those years it wasnt just for julian’s sake or because she lived with them 

it was because they cared about her and it really shows through how seriously they still take celebrating even when her and julian move out and how as they get older and can buy her things on their own their gifts are really thoughtful and not cheap or anything

emma learns over the years that her favorite way to spend her birthday is just with her closest friends and family and that as long as julian is there she doesnt really mind

she might start to stray away from big parties as she gets older but she never lets up on presents

she will tell you if your gift is bad and will remind you of it forever 

once diego mailed her a scarf that he’d thought was so pretty but emma thought was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen and she just mailed it right back with ‘i live in la. try again’ written on it

diego jokingly gives emma and julian a tablecloth with the same pattern on top of their actual wedding gift and him and julian cant stop laughing but emma is NOT amused 

she straight up burns it on one of the torches and that was that

she also refuses to tolerate joint birthday parties with julian

whenever someone suggests it since their birthdays are so close and everyone is gathered together already she is adamant that they each need their own celebration and julian highkey agrees

they both just want the other to have a special day dedicated to them im not crying u are

also this is more about julian’s but she refuses for anyone to make the new year’s eve celebration double as julian’s party

julian spoils tf out of emma on her birthday

he just cant say no to her about anything on her birthday and he knows it, she knows it, everyone knows it

they say he’s too whipped but he’s just like ‘yeah. and what about it?’

one of emma’s favorite parts of her birthday is julian’s card to her, even more than the presents

he always writes her the sweetest and longest stuff and she always cries

she can only read them in private because it makes her feel so exposed

and one of emma’s favorite presents she’s ever gotten was for her 19th birthday

her first birthday spent in la with the blackthorns since being with julian

they all made her a scrapbook, starting with little infant emma and julian next to each other wrapped in matching blankets

them reaching out to each other at two years old from cribs on opposite sides of the room

five year old emma and julian dancing

and it’s just them growing up together

a singular page dedicated to them as parabatai, with photos from the ceremony, of them showing their matching runes, fighting together(emma just jokingly shakes her head at this page but she’s been crying since page 1 and this doesnt help)

then it’s finally pictures of them after the curse, on their travel year, cuddling together, goofy selfies

and the whole back is blank for them to keep adding and she BAWLS at that

emma cries every year on her birthday, the question just becomes ‘what will it be this year’

everyone places bets of course and sweet emma has no clue

kit wins basically every year and is known as the reigning champion

when emma does find out she doesnt tell anyone and just helps lead kit to further victory

julian makes her paintings every year of stuff to “wrap up her year”

They'd met six months ago when she and her son Henry had moved into the apartment above his, after coming to Storybrooke, Maine, so Henry could be close to his newly discovered father. Before that, they'd lived in Tallahassee, Florida for the entirety of Henry's life.

Growing up in the foster system, Emma had never had anyone to rely on. When she met Neal, Henry's father, she'd fallen hard and fast. On a silly whim, they'd picked Tallahassee as the place they were going to settle down, which made her giddy with joy. She was a bright-eyed, naive seventeen year-old who'd thought she'd finally found her family.

Two days later she learned just how naive she'd truly been, when Neal set her up to take the fall for some jewelry he'd stolen. Because she had a piece of the stolen goods on her person (which he'd said was her engagement ring), she was arrested and charged with grand theft. Her sentence was six months jail time. They charitably released her just one month before Henry was to be born. Neal had disappeared in the wind. Emma had a faint hope that it had all been some big misunderstanding and that Neal was out there, somewhere, waiting for her. So, she scraped together enough money to get to Tallahassee, hoping one day he would find them.

Despite the unfavorable beginning, she'd been happy in Florida. After Henry was born, she met some truly good people who helped her get her life in order. These people became their support system. They helped her get a job, which led her to a career. She began as a secretary at the police department and worked her way up to deputy. She was able to cobble together a good life for herself and her son.

But their nice little bubble had begun to crack two years ago, when Neal made a reappearance in their lives. He was living in Maine, in a small town called Storybrooke where he'd apparently grown up, and found Emma on Facebook.

"How could you never have told me I had a son, Emma?!"

"YOU left me, Neal! You abandoned me to serve time for a crime YOU committed. How was I supposed to find you when I was fresh out of jail with a newborn?!"

Neal was chastened by her words. He backed off, but still insisted on being a part of their lives. He wanted them to move to Storybrooke to be closer, but Emma had refused. Their life was in Tallahassee. She couldn't just pick up and move.

That excuse had worked for about six months, but Neal kept pestering her. Then he convinced her to let Henry spend Christmas with him. Henry immediately fell in love with the town, but seeing snow had been what sealed the deal for him. He came home and talked about nothing other than how badly he wanted to live in Storybrooke.

Emma still insisted they stay put until she could find a job there. She refused to take any handouts from Neal. It took another year before she was able to secure a job as a deputy with the Storybrooke PD. The offer had come in the middle of a heat wave and the idea of moving to a cooler climate was extremely appealing. Emma still had reservations, but she decided to take a chance and accepted the job.

She was able to find an apartment - a large, industrial style open space with a loft area for Henry's bedroom. The place was owned by her new boss, the sheriff, David Nolan and his wife Mary Margaret. They'd lived there for several years before buying a large farm on the outskirts of town to accommodate their growing family. The building was an old warehouse Mary Margaret's family had owned which had been converted into a four-unit apartment building. The only other occupant currently was Emma's downstairs neighbor, Killian.

On they day they were moving in, she'd run into Jones - literally run into him, while she was carrying a box full of kitchen equipment. The bottom obviously hadn't been taped up very well, and the collision had not only knocked them both the ground, but had broken the box, scattering her utensils and tupperware all over the entryway to the building.

"Oh shit!" she yelled, already exhausted from the long drive and just ready to get the move over with.

"Are you alright, love?" he'd asked, his smooth, crisp, accented voice sending chills up her spine. She'd looked up and almost had her breath taken away. He was a gorgeous man, with inky black hair, striking blue eyes, and a chiseled jawline. His facial hair was a few days old, not quite long enough to be a beard, but still an extremely attractive look for him. The light coming through the door caught on his face, highlighting his stubble and revealing more than a few ginger-colored hairs.

"Oh… yes" she'd replied, finally coming back to herself.

"Mom! What happened?" Henry had asked, coming through the door with a box of his own things.

"Nothing dire, I assure you," her new neighbor had replied as he stood and offered her his hand. "Killian Jones, pleased to meet you. I assume you must be moving into the apartment upstairs. Emma and Henry, right?"

"Yes," Emma had responded, suddenly wary. How did he know their names?

"Killian! There you are," Mary Margaret had called out as she stepped through the door. "Whoa," she added as she took in the scene, "what happened here?"

"I bumped into him, I think."

"Okay, well, let's get this stuff picked up." Her new landlord bent over and began collecting the various items that had gone flying. "I see you've met Killian," she added, placing a few utensils into the now overturned box. "I stopped by yesterday and let him know you guys were moving in."

Mary Margaret, after unknowingly calming Emma's anxiety, convinced Killian to help them complete the move-in.

Almost immediately, Emma and Killian struck up a good friendship. He worked at a nearby bar, The Rabbit Hole, which he co-owned with his brother. Emma often found herself visiting Killian there on nights where Henry was sleeping over at his dad's house. That was where she met the other Jones brother, Liam, and his wife, Elsa. Emma took an instant liking to Elsa, and they became fast friends. As a natural result, she ended up spending a lot of time at Liam and Elsa's house, thereby seeing Killian even more frequently.

Over the last six months, she'd become close to Killian and had come to think of him as one of the best friends she'd ever had. There were more than a few romantic thoughts about him, but Emma refused to act on them. She didn't want to mess up their friendship, and she especially didn't want to get involved with a neighbor.

"Emma?" Killian asked, bringing her back to herself. She looked down and saw that she'd finished her rum while lost in thought.

"Can I have another?"

Killian smiled and grabbed the bottle to refill her glass. "Was tonight so bad that you lost yourself in thought while trying to figure out what to tell me?"

She chuckled nervously, afraid to tell him that her thoughts were actually about how she'd rather have been with him than anywhere else. Straightening her shoulders, she met his gaze, determined to be the master of her feelings. "No, nothing like that. It's just… well, I finally agreed to let Walsh take me on a date."

§§§§§§§§§§

Killian felt his heart stop at her words. She'd been on a date? Although the context led him to believe she hadn't had the best time out, he couldn't stop the jealous streak that coursed through his veins. What he wouldn't give to go on a date with Emma Swan, the woman of his dreams.

He'd been stunned by her from the moment they met, when she crashed into him in the entryway of their building. The way the morning sunshine illuminated her golden hair made her appear like an angel, but what truly did him in was the way she looked at him when their gazes met. He was mesmerized by her shining green eyes, creamy skin, and high cheekbones, but her expression was guarded, showing him a strong woman who would broker no bullshit. And few things were more attractive to Killian Jones than a strong woman.

As he got to know Emma and Henry better, he found himself falling hopelessly in love with them both. Henry was a wonderful child: curious, friendly, and smart as a whip. And Emma, once he got past her tough exterior, was one of the kindest and most genuine people he'd ever met. Emma cared deeply for the wellbeing of others, sometimes to the detriment of her own health, and Killian found his life's purpose lately was helping to make her life easier.

Despite the fact that she'd been set up on a few dates, he had sincerely hoped he and Emma could begin explore what he was certain was a mutual attraction. He wasn't oblivious; he saw how she looked at him when she thought no one was watching. But Killian also knew that Emma had to be the one to make the first move. For the last six months he'd been waiting for her to do so, but nothing had happened yet.

And now she was letting that simpering simian Walsh take her out. It was almost too much to bear.

He coughed to clear his throat. "I take it the date didn't go so well?"

"I mean… it wasn't the worst date I've ever been on, but definitely in the top five."

"What made it so terrible?"

"Well, for starters, he took me to Granny's."

"You love Granny's," Killian countered, remembering fondly the meal there he'd shared with her and Henry not even a week ago.

"I do, but not for a date. Granny's is where you go for family dinners. The place doesn't exactly scream romance."

"Don't let the Lady Lucas hear you criticizing her establishment," he admonished, while mentally filed away that little tidbit for future reference. "What else made the date bad?"

"He was just boring," Emma bemoaned. "He spent the majority of the time talking about his store and why he decided to start a furniture business, and how it was booming and how he made so much money on Etsy and blah, blah blah, blah blah. He and I have nothing in common." She drained her glass as if she were trying to wash away the very mention of him.

"Why did you agree to the date?" Killian refilled her glass as he spoke, refusing to make eye contact.

"I don't know… because he kept pestering me. And because he's so different from guys I usually go for. I thought maybe I'd have better luck with someone I normally wouldn't look at twice. And also this town is desperately lacking eligible men."

Killian couldn't help himself. "There's really no one more eligible than Mr. Ozman the furniture maker?" He lifted his eyebrows and threw her a wry smile.

"Well… yeah," she said, looking away as she took another sip. "I mean, there are maybe men in town that are more eligible, but they're not options for me."

"No one?"

"No!" she said, slamming her fist on the counter next to her nearly empty drink. "Pour me another, please."

"You're knocking those back rather fast, Swan. Are you sure you don't want some water?"

"Nope. I'm good with my rum. Fill 'er up barkeep!" She gave him a flirty smile, and, god help him, he couldn't deny her anything. The bar was empty, and entertaining Emma made the time pass by faster. He poured her another measure and set the bottle on the counter behind him.

By the time she finished her fourth glass, she was quite inebriated, as evidenced by her constant talking. Emma Swan was normally very stoic, but get a few drinks in her and she became a chatterbox. Killian surmised that she must have had a few beers at Granny's before she made her way to the bar.

"I mean, what even is this town?" she asked as she waved her hand in the air. "There are less than 3,000 people living here! That's so tiny! You know how many people Tallahassee has? 191,000! That's like six… sixty… you know, it's just a fuck ton more people, that's what it is!"

"Alright Swan," he said, walking around the bar to join her at her side, "I believe you've had enough. Why don't you come sit in my office while I wrap a few things up and then I'll walk you home?"

She stood and didn't protest as he grabbed her things and escorted her toward the back, but she also continued talking. "And the weather… what the hell is up with this weather? I've been here six months, and it's been cold as balls, but there's no fucking snow! That's not right! I haven't seen a good snowfall in more than a decade. If I have to deal with this cold weather, I at least deserve to see some damned snow, right?"

"Couldn't agree with you more, love." He settled her in his office chair and leaned over her slightly to grab the keys from their hook on the wall.

Emma smiled and blushed when he did so, but mercifully her mouth remained closed. He departed the office and went about closing up the few remainings items in the bar before returning.

"Ready love?" he asked as he stepped over the threshold twenty minutes later. He paused as he looked down and saw that she was fast asleep, her head pillowed on her arms as she leaned over his desk. Smiling, he stepped over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Emma? Love? It's time to go home."

She awoke with a groan. "Tired…" she mumbled into her bicep.

"I know darling. But we are only a few steps from home. You will be glad in the morning when you wake up in your bed rather than with a sore neck from sleeping on my desk."

"You're right," she said, sitting up. "Besides," she said with a yawn, "there are other bedroom things I'd like to do on this desk." She seemed to realize what she said a moment too late and looked up at him in shock, her faced flushing a deep red.

Ever the gentleman, Killian chose to ignore her words. He picked up her coat and motioned for her to stand up. She did so reluctantly, but he was able to help her into the garment and get it buttoned up. He looked warily at her shoes. There may not be snow on the ground, but there was still ice and he wasn't sure how he felt about her walking on slippery roads in four-inch heels.

Emma recognized where he was looking and stomped her foot defiantly. "I'll be fine, Jones," she said, reading his mind. "Let's go."

Killian set the alarm and locked up the building. Once everything was secure, he turned to see Emma leaning against the brick wall and staring at him unevenly. He smiled and grabbed her hand, threading it through his arm. They proceeded to walk the two blocks it would take to get to their apartment building.

As they walked along, he looked up at the sky and had to do a double take. Sure enough, flakes were starting to fall. Emma seemed oblivious, so he shook her hand a bit. "Look up."

She turned her head skyward and her face broke out in a grin so radiant it could outshine the moon. "Snow!" she squealed, pulling away from him and spinning in a circle. "I haven't seen snow since I was a kid!" She tilted her head further back and opened her mouth wide to catch a few flakes. Her pure, childlike joy warmed his heart.

"Finally!" she cried out, spinning once more. She stopped suddenly, dropping her chin and giving him a sultry look. Sauntering over, she grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket. "Aren't you happy for the snow?" she whispered, her mouth mere inches from his own.

"I'm happy to see you so happy, love," he replied, beaming down at her.

Emma stared into his eyes a moment longer before she surged forward and captured his lips with her own. The kiss caught him off guard, but he'd wanted it too long to push her away now. He returned the embrace, capturing her upper lip between his own and sucking gently. She moaned and opened her mouth wider, moving her hands to grab the back of his head and deepen the kiss. Time stopped in that moment, the only sound being their short breaths as they desperately tried to keep going.

Finally it became too much and she pulled away, once more holding onto his lapels and resting her forehead against his. They both gulped in deep breaths of air, the cold stinging their lungs.

Killian came back to himself and abruptly reared his head back as he recalled her drunken state. "Emma… I shouldn't have-"

"Don't," she interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't apologize for what was the greatest kiss of my life. I may be drunk, but not drunk enough to kiss you against my will. I fully and totally consented to it, and I'd gladly do it again."

"Truly, you don't know how much of a relief it is to hear that." She smiled and lifted up on her toes to kiss him again, but he dodged her. "I'd still rather we waited for a repeat performance until after you've slept it off."

"Fine," she grunted, releasing him and stomping ahead a few paces. "Killian Jones, the gentleman, everyone!" She swung her arms around to gesture at him Vanna White-style. "Step right up and see it for yourself! A man who doesn't want to take advantage of a drunk woman who is dying to jump his bones! Truly a marvel!"

She was hurt, he could see that clear as day, but he would not relent. He quickened his pace and caught up just as her feet slipped out from underneath and she went tumbling to the ground. "Damnit!" she yelled as she struggled to pick herself up. "I'm such a klutz. No wonder you don't want me."

"Now wait a damn minute!" He raised his voice to stop her drunken spiral. "I never said that." Effortlessly he lifted her back to her feet, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. "I've wanted you since the moment I met you." His eyes pleaded with her as he spoke. "I just don't want you to have any chance to regret things between us."

Emma looked down with a huff. "You are such a… a…" she lifted her eyes once more and her gaze suddenly softened. "You're a good guy, Killian Jones."

He smirked at her. "Come on, let's go home." He pulled her into his side and continued their trek.

§§§§§§§§§§

The sunlight pouring through the window was blinding and Emma groaned, pulling her pillow over her face. She tried in vain to will her blistering headache to go away, thanking the fates that Henry was staying with Neal one more night, and she could stay at home and nurse her hangover while avoiding the world in the process.

She snuggled deeper into the plush bedding as her awareness slowly returned. Her eyes were still firmly closed, but she began to recognize the smell of the bedding. There was the distinct scent of man surrounding her. She ran a hand along the sheets and could feel they were made of a very tight weave, much nicer than her own. And the comforter was infinitely warmer. She'd have to make note of the brand so she could buy a proper one, rather than the light quilt she'd been using that only worked in Florida winters.

Taking another deep inhale, Emma realized she knew that scent. It was Killian's smell. Making a quick check, she found that, rather wearing her own clothes, she was dressed in a men's t-shirt and boxers. She groaned again and threw her arm over her pillow-covered head. What had they done last night?

"Good morning love," Killian said as he stepped into the room. There was the sound of a thunk, followed by the aroma of coffee, indicating that he'd brought her a mug of the amazing brew he liked to make in his french press. "How do you feel?"

"Lower your voice!" she hissed. His volume was not loud, but in light of her pounding headache, he may as well have been yelling. Taking a deep breath, she slowly peeled the pillow away from her face, keeping her eyes squinted while they adjusted to the light. Once she sat up Killian offered her a bottle of water and two ibuprofen. She smiled at him gratefully and took the painkillers, downing half the water with them.

"I'm sorry I was so drunk you couldn't even get me up the stairs."

"You were nearly asleep by the time we made it to building. I figured it would be easier to have you rest here."

"What happened? What did I do?"

He grimaced. "Do you remember any of it?"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying hard to clear her mind and recall what happened just a few hours ago. It all came back in a flash. "I kissed you."

"Aye," he responded, reaching over and handing her the coffee mug.

Emma took a fortifying sip, enjoying the taste of the rich brew doctored with cream and sugar just how she liked it. They sat in silence for a moment, Killian watching Emma while she watched her cup of coffee.

"Do you regret it?" he asked, finally breaking the tension.

She took another deep breath before peering up to meet his eyes. "No. I don't."

"Is it something you'd like to do again?"

She looked pensive for a moment longer before cracking a smile. "Yes, I want to kiss you again, Killian." He began to lean forward, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Not yet, though. I'd like to shower and brush my teeth first."

He smirked in response. "I think you'll find, Swan, that I am an infinitely patient man."

Their flirty banter, along with the water, painkillers, and coffee, had Emma feeling ten times better than when she'd woken up only moments ago. She tilted her head and looked at him coquettishly. "I think you'll find, Jones, that I am not a patient woman. Give me thirty minutes to get cleaned up, and then I'm gonna come back down here and rock your world."

"Oh, there will be coming, alright."

Emma broke into a full cackle at his words. "Seriously? I know you have better game than that, Jones."

"Go get cleaned up, darling, and then you can find out."

Emma practically leapt out of the bed, grabbing her clutch and racing upstairs. She showered quickly, but made sure to take a few moments for some body hair removal. The shower helped to shake off the last vestiges of her hangover. Standing in front of her closet, wrapped in only her plush navy blue bathrobe, she contemplated what the wear when there was a knock on the front door. She groaned at the intrusion, mourning the potential loss of time alone with Killian, before tightening her robe and moving to answer the knock.

She opened the door to find Killian standing there, looking sinfully sexy in a pair of low-slung jeans and a loose t-shirt. He stared down at her preditorially. "Swan," he breathed before stepping into her space and capturing her mouth with his own.

Emma stepped back and he followed, slamming the door and locking it behind them. He then spun their bodies, pinning her to the wall as his lips traveled down her jaw. "Not that I'm complaining," she said, pausing to moan wantonly, "but I thought we were going to do this at your place."

"I guess I'm not as patient as I claim to be," he replied, tracing her collarbone with his tongue. "Take this off," he commanded, tugging at her robe, and she hurried to comply. Her hands fumbled with the belt for a moment before it fell open, revealing her naked body. He stepped back and admired her as she squirmed under his scrutiny. "Gorgeous," he breathed before pushing the robe off her shoulders.

The cold air on her heated skin was a shock. Emma silently thanked herself for deciding not to wash her hair this morning. She could only imagine how much colder she'd feel with wet hair dripping down her back.

His hands warmed her body as they roamed over her breasts, across her stomach, and around to her rear before encouraging her to spread her legs and wrap them around his hips. With her core pressed to his own, he ground their bodies together while his mouth dove down to take a hardened pink nipple between his lips. Emma hissed at the sensation of his warm mouth on the stiffened peak, speeding up the motions of her pelvis. She could feel the erection underneath his jeans, and the combination of it and the ridge of his fly gave her just the right amount of pressure on her clit. She'd been so worked up thinking about him in the shower that it only took a few more minutes until she felt the first blush of her orgasm wash over her body.

"Oh my god… Killian… I'm gonna… I'm… ahhh!" she moaned, throwing her head back and crying out in ecstacy.

"You are so bloody beautiful, Swan," he said, gently kissing her as she came down from her high.

"Your turn," she said in a rush, placing her legs back down on the ground. She took a moment to steady herself before putting her hands on his shoulders and making to turn them.

"No, Emma," he said, his voice commanding. "I'm in charge right now, and you will do as I say. Go sit on the bed, on your knees."

Emma shivered, and not from the cold air in the room. "Yes sir," she replied breathily before complying with his order. When she was positioned how he wanted, he walked over and stood at the foot of the bed, removing his shirt and jeans until he stood before her in all his naked glory. She bit her lip as she looked up at him.

"See something you like, darling?" he asked, wrapping his long fingers around his cock and pumping slowly.

"Mmmm… yes sir," she moaned.

He crawled on the bed, placing his knees on either side of her hips. His hand slid down and lightly grazed her outer lips before he slid two fingers inside her. "Bloody fuck you're wet," he groaned. He pumped his fingers two more times before removing them and spreading some of the moisture on his cock. "Where do you keep your condoms, love?"

"I don't have any," she breathed. "The ones I had were expired and I threw them out before the move."

"Then it's a good thing I came prepared," he replied with a chuckle. He stood up and grabbed his jeans, extracting a foil square. Quickly sheathing his length, he slid back onto the bed, this time behind her, and wrapped his hands around her waist. With a squeeze of his hips he encouraged her to lift herself so he could position his aching cock just below her entrance. After a torturously slow few seconds, she sank all the way down.

They both moaned when he bottomed out. The feeling of being full was almost too much. His hands wandered, one landing on her breast and the other slipping down to her clit. He rubbed it in ever tightening circles before pushing her body forward, changing their position to doggy style as he pumped his hips faster. Emma cried out at the quickened pace of his fingers, and she once again felt the tinglings of an orgasm. They continued for a moment longer before, all at once, she was hit with another flood of sensation. She cried out and squeezed him tight, her release triggering his own. The room was filled with their cries as they both took their pleasure.

They collapsed onto the bed, Killian pulling her to him so that her back lined up with his front. They both panted heavily as their heart rates slowed. Once they were each more composed, Emma sighed contentedly.

"I guess I should be grateful for rum and the snow finally giving me the courage I needed to make a move."

"If you aren't, then I will be grateful enough for the both of us."

She smiled and lightly slapped his arm before settling more into his embrace.

"I am curious about one thing," he said a moment later.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"If it took rum and snow for that to happen, what will it take for you to act on the urge to do those 'other bedroom things' in my office you mentioned last night?"

Emma blushed momentarily before smiling to herself. "You'll just need to wait to find out."

“You alright, love?” Killian brushed his fingertips over the skin behind her ear as he pushed the hair from her face, his fiery touch causing all of Emma's synapses to fire at once.

“Hungry,” Emma's one word answer made Killian chuckle and he pulled away from her with a smirk.

“And If you meant what I'm hungry for, you wouldn't have stopped kissing me,” Killian pushed himself to his feet and offered her his hand and a raised eyebrow. Emma blushed a little, but he was right. When it came to Killian Jones, Emma would do anything to taste him a little longer, only right now her stomach protested with a fierce growl.

“I skipped lunch,” Emma confessed, clutching to her rumbling stomach as she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. Killian purposely pulled her harder than he needed to, pressing his semi hard erection into her hip as they collided. Emma grinned, a breathy gasp escaping her throat.

“Maybe later I could massage you some more,” Killian smirked and smoothed his hand along the edge of the red leather of her jacket. His fingers darted under the hem of the pliable material and skirted over the warm skin of her lower back. “You know, when you are sated.”

Emma smirked, looped her arms around his neck and stretched against his firm chest. “I don't think I'll ever be sated.”

Killian almost growled, his entire body fighting to stay pinned to the woman he loved whilst his mind, the more rational of his inner beings, tried desperately to remind him that Emma was hungry. And a hungry Emma was almost as frightful as some of the worst seas monsters he had come across. Henry had once called his mother 'hangry' and proceeded to explain, in the most teenage of ways, that it meant someone was both hungry and angry. Normally the anger was caused by the hunger and so the vicious circle was complete.

Emma, as flirtatious as she was right now, would no doubt be 'hangry' at any moment, and send his arousal scurrying for the outermost reaches of the farthest realms in no time.

With a grumble, Killian stepped back and Emma pouted. “I've cooked you dinner,” Killian said quickly, lacing his fingers in hers and tugging her to follow him. His bare feet made no noise across the surface of the floorboard, and Emma followed obediently with an excited skip.

“You really are amazing, Killian,” Emma smiled, mostly to herself as he was facing away from her.

Killian stopped just short of the kitchen, the dining table embellished with pristine crockery and cutlery behind him. He moved behind Emma, leaving her awestruck at the layout before her. No food was visible yet, but as she gasped, Emma could almost taste the aromas on her tongue. She had no idea what he had cooked, but it smelled absolutely incredible. Emma had no doubt it would taste exactly the same.

Killian tugged her jacket from her shoulders with his one hand, his hook having being long retired for the night leaving just his smooth stump. He pushed the red leather down Emma's arms and she shook it free to help him. Killian quickly rested it over the iron hooks they had screwed to the basement door in a makeshift coat rack, and then returned to her.

“I mean it, this is incredible,” Emma had to blink a few times in astonishment. Killian pressed himself into her back and wrapped his arms around her waist, smiling when Emma's delicate fingers gripped onto his forearms.

Killian nuzzled into Emma's hair, inhaling her scent and finding her ear under the long, curled softness. He felt her body shiver and the hairs on his arms stood on end. Killian smirked and Emma could feel his scruff itch at the skin of her cheek, his breath hot and humid against her ear as he whispered the word that set her whole body alight with passion.

“You have not seen anything yet.”

Two hours later, Emma had drunk all of the wine.

Killian had surpassed himself this time and not only cooked Emma dinner, but had prepared absolutely everything himself. The linguine had not only been made entirely from scratch, but Killian had dyed the strips of pasta with squid ink, turning the whole dish a silky black. He had set sail, floating the Jolly Roger out of the bay and acquiring some fresh scallops from some far flung ocean corner, picked up some huge elegant tiger prawns on his way back to port, and had marinaded the whole dish in a white wine sauce.

And he had still found time to buy her favourite wine. Even if it wasn't enough between them, because they had finished every last drop. But that was okay, because Emma knew that Killian had a healthy stash of rum, and they had so far polished off over half of the bottle whilst playing the Game of Thrones drinking game.

“So, if I am to understand the rules of this game correctly...” Killian stopped mid slurred sentence to stifle a hiccup. He balled his fist and pressed it to his mouth, snorting deep in his throat.

“Don't throw up,” Emma warned, swaying next to him on the couch. Killian just closed his eyes and shook his head.

“...we see tits, and we drink.”

“Or ass,” Emma pointed at him assuredly.

“Tits or ass,” Killian confirmed with a drunken frown.

Emma snorted a laugh through her nose. “Ass and titties!” She declared loudly, rolling back on the couch and nearly spilling her half filled tumbler of rum. The dark liquid swirled up the side of its clear confines like a tidal wave.

Killian watched her fascinated by her sudden eruption of glee. “I'm sure that is yet another cultural reference that is beyond me.”

Emma's laughing ceased momentarily and she nodded in agreement. “It's from a song,” Emma frowned, wondering suddenly how to explain Three 6 Mafia and rap music in general to a pirate born in 1826. “Never mind.”

“Can I win this game?” Killian's words slipped from his lips more melded together than he would have liked.

“Aren't we competitive,” Emma teased, leaning her weight against Killian where he sat beside her. He just smirked at her, head bowed and an eyebrow raised.

“Well, why would I play if I cannot best you, love?”

“You can't best me. Period,” Emma mocked and narrowed her eyes, her already blurry vision almost disappearing.

“You and I both know that is untrue,” Killian quirked his brow at her again and lifted his glass to his lips.

“NO!” Emma screamed, lunging across his lap to grab his wrist before he could take a sip of his rum. Killian jumped back, eyes wide at her outburst.

“Hey!” he objected.

“We haven't started the next episode yet,” Emma told him firmly, her body suddenly heavy and unable to right itself from where she lay.

Killian laughed deep in his chest and when her hand slipped from his wrist, he gulped down the remainder of his rum. The alcohol scorched his throat, which had already become hoarse from screaming at the various characters on the screen – the Greyjoys were NOT pirates – and Killian leaned forward to plant his empty tumbler to the coffee table. Emma groaned when she was slightly crushed under his chest and he plucked the matching tumbler from her grasp.

“I would rather see my wife's bosom,” Killian said softly, his words hanging on an unfinished statement as Emma rolled herself over awkwardly and peered up at him. Her hair spilled out over his lap and Killian couldn't help running his hand through the golden tresses.

“Oh yeah?” Emma smirked, biting the inside of her cheek.

Killian nodded. “I was so close earlier but she was hungry.”

Emma pursed out her bottom lip at him playfully. “Oh, that's so sad.”

“Aye, it is a tragedy,” Killian leaned forward and brushed his lips over Emma's softly, sucking on her bottom lip as he kissed her upside down. Emma's hand found his cheek, her fingertips brushing over his scruff and holding his face to hers as their tongues danced with each other. They both tasted of rum with the faintest hints of their seafood meal and red wine. It was an odd concoction, but neither noticed when Killian deepened the kiss and Emma sat up in response.

Drunk or not, they often seemed to sober up pretty quickly with a house to themselves. Henry had wanted to spend the night alone on the Jolly Roger, and Killian had agreed, oozing pride for his step son who had taken an interest in the vessel. One day the ship would be Henry's, so it meant a lot already that the sixteen-year-old showed diligence.

That's if they had no other children, and by the way they were going right now, it wasn't an impossible outcome.

Emma crawled over his lap, straddling Killian fluidly and instantly grinding down on his arousal. Her hands found his face, clawing at his cheeks, pulling his lips to hers more fervently. Killian wrapped his blunted arm around her back, holding her to him as they kissed, his other hand tracing the harsh lines of the seam of her jeans along her thigh.

“Would you like to see them now?” Emma breathed, their noses side by side and her words but a breath across his slightly parted lips. Killian's eyes opened and his ocean blue orbs were dark and stormy, a reflection of his desire. He gulped hard, unsure exactly why after so long Emma could still affect him this way. In a way, he was glad, but he suspected that drunk Emma was a little more willing to play to his fantasies than sober Emma.

“Aye,” He smirked, his mouth hanging open and his tongue tracing the edge of his front teeth.

Emma sat back on his lap, crossed her arms over her chest and toyed with the edge of her shirt. She gave Killian a wink, gently lifting the material a little to expose her taught stomach. Battles and sparring had left her toned, her abdomen almost rigid to touch, and she enjoyed the rush of cool air to her muscular frame.

“You want to see more?” Emma taunted her husband, letting the white cotton fall down over her stomach again, before lifting it a little higher. She watched his face light up, murky blue eyes riddled with alcohol but his attention as sharp as ever. “Maybe...what underwear I am wearing today?” Emma bit her bottom lip and pushed her hands under her shirt, groaning as she toyed with her ample breasts.

Killian swallowed a hard lump down his dry throat and couldn't help but reach out and trail a finger over her exposed hip. He loved watching Emma, who as it turned out, was quite the exhibitionist in the bedroom. Killian's face stretched into a boyish grin because he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what underwear she was wearing today. It was lacy, sheer and black with red accents along the waistline of the French style knickers and edge of the bra cups.

Seeing Emma in it was possibly the most erotic sight he had ever seen.

“Why don't you strip for me, love?” Killian offered a prompt, his fingers digging into the side of her torso earnestly.

Emma let out a girlish giggle and pressed her hands to his chest, bunching the material up in her hands and pulling his entire body from the back of the couch roughly. Killian gasped, unsure of her intentions, their lips millimetres apart and still swollen from their earlier kissing. Emma relaxed her hands and rolled her head to the side coyly, pushing her hands over his shoulders and then tugging the thing cotton of his t shirt over his head.

Killian flopped back against the couch, his nipples chilled and pebbling beneath his decadent layer of chest hair. Emma's hands were on his skin once more, her fingers threading through the black, curled hair that embellished his entire torso. Her fingers idled in the center of his abdomen, drawing lazy circles in the thicker growth there, her eyes following the trail down to where it disappeared inside of his sweatpants.

“What are you thinking?” Killian eyed her, trying to work out her thought process as her face twisted with thought. He had no doubt they were filthy, whatever her inference.

Emma leaned back, taking in his physique for a second. Killian Jones was a fine specimen of a man. He had muscles in all the right places, a perfect, boyish smile and the way he was proportioned set her bones on fire. Emma looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes boring into her very soul. Emma leaned forward and flattened her palms to his chest, her drunkenness causing her head to swirl unnoticed, and rested her lips to the outer shell of Killian's ear. His heart skipped in his chest, and he felt her fingers scratch at his skin.

“I want you to touch yourself,” Emma purred, her breath hot and humid against his ear. Killian shivered and felt himself harden in his sweatpants. “I need you to touch yourself whilst you watch me,” Emma reiterated her want, letting one hand leave Killian's chest to trail a single finger down behind his ear. Killian groaned aloud, his eyes pinching themselves closed as Emma stroked one of his many erogenous zones and wiggled herself harder against his erection.

Before he had time to reply, Emma was sliding from his lap and tugging the material of his sweatpants with her, exposing his rock hard member to the cool air in the room. Killian hissed a little, his erection twitching to be touched. Emma stepped back, crossing her arms, grabbing the hem of her shirt and finally lifting the white material over her head. It was tossed aside, joining Killian's shirt on the floor beside the couch.

Killian had remembered well, and Emma did indeed have his favourite underwear on. Black laced cups hid her heaving bosom behind a thin layer of padding, but Killian had Emma's body well and truly memorised. He knew the exact size, weight and temperature of her skin when she was aroused, and he could easily imagine away her underwear. He brushed his hand over his chest, teasing his own nipples before sliding it down to his erection and gripping at the velvety smooth shaft.

“Are you a bad boy?” Emma swayed her hips to invisible music, turning away from him as she popped open the button of her jeans.

“Aye,” Killian panted, stroking himself slowly. Emma's back was just as sexy as the rest of her, and her shoulders were covered in the warmth of her sunshine coloured locks.

Emma leaned forward a little, inching the fabric of her jeans over the curve of her behind. “Is this what you want to see, my naughty pirate?”

Killian's strokes sped up slightly and he dug his toes into the floor. “Aye, Swan. Show me more, love.”

Emma pushed her jeans a little harder past her hips and down her thighs. They were skin tight, and she folded her body in half, bending over in front of Killian in order to push the material all the way down her legs. She heard Killian growl and couldn't hide the smirk that crept along her rosy lips at his reaction.

Emma twisted her body so she was facing him once more and kneaded her sensitive breasts in front her him. She took a step towards him, ignoring the wobble of her legs as she tried to focus on her desire and not her inebriation. Emma let her head fall back, her long hair tickling at her waistline as she moaned and arched her back into her own touch.

“Killian...,” She whimpered.

“I'm here, love,” he assured her, pumping his member harder as she stalked towards him.

Emma reached around and unsnapped the clasp of her bra, letting it fall away and finally exposing Killian's prize. The anticipation of seeing Emma's smooth, milky skin was agony and for a second he had to halt his strokes when his body threatened to fall. When she was within reach, Killian sat forward on the couch, perching on the edge of the seat and pulling her to him harshly.

Emma let out a shriek, melting into his touch when Killian flattened his huge, hot palm over the cheek of her ass. He crushed his lips to the skin of her stomach, kissing his way along the jut of her hip bone and grabbed at the waistline of her panties, almost ripping the lace away from her. His whiskers scraped at her skin and the pool of warmth between her thighs ached a little more as Emma imagined his head between her legs. Emma pushed the sides of her underwear down, letting them pool at her feet to leave her naked before him.

Killian panted against her skin, nipping at the smooth skin of her thigh and inching his fingers into her apex. Emma smelled intoxicating, sweet and sensual with the slightest hint of vanilla coating her skin. Killian's fingers brushed over her sex, slipping on her juices that were already covering her outer folds because she was so turned on. Killian's need to taste her was insufferable, and he nuzzled his face into her soft mound, coaxing her thighs apart for him.

Emma braced herself on his shoulders and lifted on of her legs, resting her foot on the couch beside his naked hip. It was a silent invitation into her sweetness and Killian did not hesitate to take advantage of it. His scarred nub rested to the side of her elevated calf, rubbing up and down Emma's lower legs slowly, sending all of her nerve endings into spasm. As if that wasn't enough, when he finally pressed his tongue to her scorching clitoris, Emma squeaked and her vision went black.

Killian felt Emma's fingernails dig into the skin of his broad shoulders, the pain only momentarily causing him discomfort. Her reaction to his tongue on her most intimate area was one he always enjoyed, and was one that always left him with a new souvenir against his skin. Killian smirked and flicked his tongue against her aching nub, holding her to his face and drinking in her nectar impatiently. Emma's hips rocked against his face and she tussled her fingers into his hair, clenching a fistful of his black locks in an attempt to steady herself.

“Oh god...,” Emma panted hard when Killian explored her folds with two fingers, dipping the digits into her core to torment her. Killian pulled his face from her mound and Emma frowned, her brow knitting together in frustration.

She rolled her head forward, barely able to focus, and loosened her grip on his now messy hair. “You fucking tease,” She smiled at him, pushing his hair from his face and dipping her head to kiss him. Emma could taste herself on his tongue and Killian was right, she was excruciatingly sweet. Emma's hand found her throbbing clit once more and she rubbed it in circles, lubricated by a mixture of saliva and her own nectar.

Killian pushed her leg from the couch and firmly slapped her ass. Emma's eyes flew open and she jumped a little with the sudden pain that shot through her skin. His hand left a print and Killian smoothed his palm over the burning cheek. “Turn around,” he commanded darkly and Emma obeyed obediently.

“Aye, Aye, Captain,” Emma uttered seductively, spinning on her heels until she was facing away from him.

Killian took himself in hand once more stopping briefly to swat her ass one more time. Emma's skin pinked once it was thrashed and Killian sank back into the couch cushions some more, taking in the view of her rosy behind. Emma cast him a look over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed because she knew the game he was playing. They had done this before and it was one of Emma's favourites.

Without instruction, Emma sat back, purposefully missing Killian's weeping erection and settling herself against the hard planes of his toned abdomen. His hair tickled her sore cheeks but she ignored it, instead writhing against his chest hair some more when she laid back flush with his trunk. Killian reached under her leg, helping her lift it so she was resting her feet onto his thick, tensed thighs, and then began stroking himself once more.

“Do you know what I want?” Killian growled into her ear when she rested her head to his shoulder. Emma bit the inside of her lip and nodded, arching her back.

“To fuck me,” She breathed, her words almost lost in the quiver of her voice. Killian pressed his tip into her folds, teasing her with the prospect of entering her. He loved teasing her almost as much as he enjoyed actually having sex. The sense of power, especially over someone as impressive as The Saviour, was so addictive Killian thought he might explode at her words.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Emma?” Killian rasped against her neck, sucking on the pulse under her skin and easing into her searing center just a little. Emma moaned a little and whimpered when he pulled out again.

“Please...” she begged, sliding herself down his body, craving to feel him inside of her, stretching her walls and making her feel whole. Killian rocked his hips a little and Emma took in half his impressive length, her legs shaking a little because she was so close already. With all the foreplay and teasing Killian had wound her so tightly that she knew it wouldn't be long before she found her release.

Emma turned her head so she was facing Killian once more, her already sweaty skin sticking to his when their foreheads rested against each other. Killian kept her eyes contact, his breath hitching in a mirror image of her own as he pushed himself into her to the hilt, pausing to let her adjust to his full girth. Emma cried out and Killian seized her lips again, kissing away her mewl with long, languid strokes of his tongue. “You're so beautiful when you beg,” he whispered throatily.

“Oh my god,” Emma whined seductively, dazed and at Killian's mercy. “Please, please, please fuck me now.”

Killian nuzzled his nose into the soft skin behind Emma's ear, feeling the warmth her over his entire body. She clenched her inner muscles around him as he began moving in and out of her, each tender thrust causing her to erupt in rhythmic sighs. Killian wasn't sure how long he could hold off his own surrender, so reached over Emma's hips and began working her exquisite bundle of nerves closer to his goal.

Emma's hand found the back of his head, gripping into his messy hair on each of his thrust. Killian tolerated the pain in his scalp but bit down on Emma's shoulder is response, causing her to rock her hips a little faster. The angle was incredible and Killian could feel the tell tale flutter of Emma's inner walls around him as she approached her orgasm. Killian increased his speed, and when Emma's hand took over the furious rubbing of her clit, he moved to massage the pliable skin of her engorged breasts.

Emma's nipples jutted out under his palm, each one getting a turn to be rolled between his fingers and teased with the cool metal of his rings. Emma's body reacted instantly and her breath hitched in her throat, rolling her hand even faster over her nerve hub as her vision blurred and she cried out in ecstasy. Assured that she had finally come when her body went limp, Killian pounded into her a few more times before his own frenzied climax found him and rendered him helpless.

There was only the sound of deep panting when Emma finally opened her eyes. Her skin was hot, burning to the touch and her apex throb with the after shocks of her orgasm. Killian's silky smooth shaft was still inside of her, softening only a little after he has emptied himself into her. Emma relaxed her grip on his hair and her face spread into a content grin when Killian smoothed his hand over her stomach and kissed the skin of her shoulder.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she stifled a laugh and let her legs go limp over Killian's. He finally went soft and slipped from her swollen core, both of them ignoring the dribble of ejaculate that followed.

“That is one way of putting it,” He laughed, wrapping his arms around Emma tightly and burrowing his nose into the golden tresses of her hair once more.

“You ruin me, Mr. Jones,” Emma turned herself so she was snuggled against his chest and let her fingers run over the sword of his necklace. Somehow she has forgotten it and was sure she would have a mark on her back in the morning.

Killian nestled his lips against the crown of her head and kissed her sweetly. “And you love it.”

That night, Emma dreamed of her husband some more. If it wasn't enough that he literally invaded her body, Killian Jones invaded her dreams too. When they had retreated to their bedroom, content to clear away their discarded clothes in the morning, Emma had insisted on showing Killian her appreciation for his efforts. Twice more. And Emma loved it.

She awoke with a smile planted firmly on her face, her lips stretched sideways into the sunshine that was invading their bedroom and beginning to creep across her features. Emma stretched out under the covers, her camisole twisted around her body awkwardly where she had moved so much in the night. Emma had always been a light sleeper until she met Killian because falling asleep in his arms felt like the safest place in the entire world.

Emma smoothed her hands across the bumps of the mattress and frowned when all she found was the bed empty beside her. She finally peeled an eye open and sure enough, Killian was gone and his side of the bed was pulled over neatly in an attempt to half make it with her still in it. Emma opened her other eye, blinking rapidly to clear her vision, and pushed herself to sit up.

Instantly, all of her blood pooled from her face and left a pounding sensation across her temples. Her mouth was dry, probably because she snored, and her tongue tasted of alcohol. They had consumed a reasonable amount last night, and Emma smacked her lips together, trying desperately to remove the lasting taste with a disgusted frown. She peered around the room, but she was alone, only the dust particles dancing through the sunlight keeping her company.

Emma threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed with a yawn. Her muscles ached under her shoulder blades and she rolled her shoulders to ease the tension between them. Emma spied her sleeps shorts on the floor beside the bed and her lips twitched into a smile when she remembered how they had been discarded by Killian only moments after putting them on. She reached down for them and pulled them on, dragging her heavy feet to their en suite bathroom to brush her teeth.

When Emma emerged she heard a clatter from downstairs. She cocked her head, listening for more noise, but was only met with silence. Emma padded from the room, her footsteps falling silently against the wooden floor of the hall as she made her way to the stairs. Her hair was messy, frizzy at the ends, so she pulled it back into a loose ponytail and then wound it around itself until it was in a high bun. Content it wasn't going to fall back over her shoulders anytime soon, Emma wrapped her fingers around the banister rail and sneaked down stairs.

Killian was in the kitchen, a dirty bowl cast to one side, the sink full of used utensils and a used chopping board that stuck out at an odd angle. Emma smiled at his domestic nature, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall to watch him. Killian was wearing his sweatpants from last night but a quick look over her shoulder at the discarded pile of clothes confirmed that he was currently commando. His shirt was also still there, and he flitted around the kitchen half naked, his muscular back rippling and tensing with every movement.

Emma rested her head against the cool, painted wall and just watched her husband move. He was fluid, each sideways step and action completed as if he was being choreographed. In reality, there was no one instructing him on how to move around their kitchen. Killian Jones just knew how to from years and years of swashbuckling sword play and keeping his balance aboard a ship at sea.

“Enjoying the view, love?” Killian said without turning the face her. He was busy letting a yellow, egg like mixture dribble out of a bowl into something Emma couldn't see from where she was.

“I am,” Emma confirmed with a smile and pushed her weight from the wall.

“Am I that becoming?” Killian smirked to himself, watching the last remnants of his mixture fall from the bowl with a shake. Yesterday, as he shopped for dinner items, Killian happened upon the good fortune of recalling a recipe he had found online and had yet to try. While it looked arguably disgusting in its current state, he had no doubt it would bake and be perfectly transformed into something more edible.

“What are you cooking?” Emma interrupted his musings when she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled her face into the dip between his shoulder blades.

“An arugula and pancetta quiche,” He felt Emma inhale and smile against his skin, pulling him closer to her with tiny, splayed hands over his belly.

“Sounds delicious,” Emma droned softly.

“Aye, I hope so,” Killian agreed, trying to find the will to ignore the way her hands over his skin made him shiver with excitement. The hair on his torso was softer than Emma remembered last night, so he must have showered already, and another sniff of his skin confirmed her suspicions.

“You showered already,” Emma pouted, her words muffled against the smooth skin of his back. Her fingers wound through his blackened curls, glossing over his belly hair and moving upwards to the thick layer over his chest. “You smell good.”

Killian grinned and the hair on the back of his neck stood to attention when she brushed her fingertips over his nipples. Killian rested his hand over her forearm loosely, letting her feel his skin and cling to his back as long as she wanted to. Finally, Emma rolled her face against his skin and planted her supple lips to the dip between his shoulder blades, letting her kiss linger for a second with a content hum.

Emma's hum turned a little darker and her hands roamed over the front of his body more amorously. She pushed harder against his skin, kneading his pecs and smirking at the hardened nipples under her palms. Killian laughed and spun around in her arms, a little embarrassed, and buried his face into her neck. He kissed along her clavicle, enjoying the access now her hair was tied back.

“Swan, are you still drunk? How much wine did you have last night?” he quirked his eyebrow at her but it went unnoticed because Emma was far too busy watching her hands drag her fingernails through his chest hair down to the thick patch by his waistline.

“I'm just trying enjoying my husband,” she sang innocently, images of last night flashing before her eyes.

“Who is trying to cook you a fancy breakfast quiche, my love.” Killian had already preheated the oven and stepped from her grasp for a second to place the raw quiche inside. Adjusting the temperature, he turned back to a sulking Emma. “What?” He mirrored her smirk when Emma bit her bottom lip and wiggled her brow at him.