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The Princess and the Pirate

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It's been almost a week since the curse broke and things have settled down, for the most part. Her parents are overjoyed: they adore Henry beyond belief, and he them, and Snow is just so happy about Regina's change of heart that she could love an angler fish if it succeeded in reuniting her entire family.

Emma's one regret is that - what with dealing with the fallout and catching up and reassuring everyone that of course she's looking for a way to get home (not that most people want to go) - she still hasn't had a change to really talk to Killian.

Oh sure, they're both fully aware of what they mean to one another. But Emma doesn't know how that fits in with her life. Is he her boyfriend? The word seems entirely insignificant. Lovers has all sorts of titillating connotations that Emma cannot afford, not with a six year old, and significant other seems bland and inadequate. Besides which, she's barely had a moment to be alone with him since they remembered everything.

And boy does she want to be alone with him.

It's a Friday night and they're just finishing up dinner at Regina's house. Snow and Charming are there, of course, as are Archie and Red and Graham (the latter two unable to stop blushing whenever they catch each other's eye), and Henry is in awe of his incredible new family. Imagine, Snow White and Prince Charming for grandparents! A wicked witch for step-great-grandmother! Jiminy Cricket and Red Riding Hood and the Huntsman for honorary aunts and uncles! Emma can't help but grin fondly. For a kid who started life with a single mother and nothing else, he's definitely lucked out.

"Come on kid," she says, after all the dishes are cleared away and everyone's finished the last dregs of their drinks, "we should get going."

Henry pouts. "Could I stay with Regina tonight?" he asks hopefully.

Surprised, Emma looks to Regina for an answer. Regina shrugs, looking just as surprised as Emma feels, with an extra dose of hope. "I can make up the spare room for him, if you want," she offers. Emma is struck by the vast difference between the woman who had tortured her in the Enchanted Forest (the woman who had reveled in her parents' misfortunes) and the woman who stands before her now.

"Sure, kid," she says, giving him a little smile. "I'll come by tomorrow for breakfast, sound good?"

Henry cheers and flings himself at her, arms wrapped around her middle. "Thanks, Mom," he says, voice muffled. He draws back his head to look up at her, a cheeky smile firmly in place. "Now get lost, it's bed time."

Everyone laughs, including Emma, because her son is precocious and sweet and adorable. She can't help but wonder, though, if perhaps he had an ulterior motive.

"Where's Hook?" he'd asked her impatiently when they'd first arrived. Oh sure, he waited until everyone else was in another room, but he didn't exactly use his inside voice.

Emma winced, hoping her parents couldn't hear. "I don't know," she'd said. It was (mostly) the truth. She was pretty sure he was out on the Jolly, but he hadn't said much when she'd invited him earlier in the day. Just brushed her off - not rudely; in fact he'd smiled softly at her when he said he simply couldn't make it - but no reasons or excuses were forthcoming.

Henry had huffed and said snidely, "Well I think he should be here."

"So do I," was Emma's somewhat self-pitying response. Henry had side-eyed her then, but Archie had come back into the room to ask Henry about school and the topic was dropped.

Now, though, Emma looks at her son, and he winks at her as he leads her to Regina's front door. "Have a good night," he sing songs. "See you tomorrow!"

And she's left out on the stoop, her parents looking curiously between the two of them, Henry firmly shutting the door in her face.

"You okay?" Snow asks her.

"Do you need a lift?" Charming says.

Emma shakes her head, a small, sweet hope bubbling up inside her chest. "No thanks," she says. "I'm gonna take a walk."

Her parents don't push it and Emma thanks every god she can think of. "Good night," they murmur, exchanging brief hugs and brushes of lips against cheeks and I love you's. Then they're sliding into their car and driving away from her.

Emma watches them go, then turns the other way and starts walking.

It's been nearly a decade since she was really alone with Killian.

She sneaks into the corner store, figuring that since she's the Saviour and her dad's on the police force and her mom's the queen nobody will mind a little breaking and entering for a good cause. She leaves the money in the till and goes back out the way she came, locking the door behind her, pocketing her almost-stolen goods.

Then she makes her way down to the docks.

The Jolly Roger is berthed there, swaying in the breeze, waves slapping gently against the hull. Emma walks slowly up to it, pausing just before the gangway. There are lights on below deck and her heart leaps erratically.

She moves forward, drawn inexorably onto the ship. She can't hear anything but the water and the wind, try as she might to detect a hint of Killian's movements. The light is bleeding out from underneath the door that no doubt leads to his cabin, and Emma pauses again before she opens it. Her hand falls to the knob and, ever so slowly, turns it.

The door slides open without a sound and Emma steps forward and down the stairs, treading lightly, hoping now that she might take him by surprise. She tries to calm her breathing but it's hard; she feels like she's wanted this all her life. In some ways, she has.

She reaches the bottom of the stairs just as the door slams shut behind her. Emma turns towards it, silently cursing her own inattention. Then something slams her into the wall.

"You picked a bad time to get lost, mate," Killian whispers, breathing heavily.

"Are you sure about that?" she teases.

He draws back and Emma is pleased by the surprise that flits across his face. "I thought you were at dinner with your family," he says, confused.

Emma loops her fingers through his belt and pulls him back against her, unwilling to let the warmth of his body leave hers. His eyes cloud over and he braces himself with his hand against the wall behind her. She feels small, trapped, entirely at his mercy. But her heart swells again at the look in his eyes, and she knows she's entirely in control here.

"I was," she allows, the corner of her mouth drawing into a lazy smirk. "Henry wanted to stay with Regina tonight."

She leaves one of her hands right where it is, keeping him pressed against her, as the other slides up his body, over the thin fabric of his shirt. He's entirely absorbed in watching her and Emma loves it, loves the way his mouth hangs ever so slightly open, loves the obscene way he licks his lips, loves the tension hanging thick in the air. He hasn't reverted back to his old pirate clothes - hook aside, although he doesn't seem to be wearing it now - which pleases Emma enormously. It'll be much easier to undress him like this.

"Swan," Killian whispers. "What are you doing here?"

His breath ghosts lightly across her face. She meets his eyes, answering the desire there with her own, and she whispers back, "Something I've wanted to do for a long, long time."

With the hand in his belt, she brings him flush against her, feels his body pressed against hers, feels his hard length press against her thigh. He groans, and warmth pools in Emma's belly. "Something I've wanted," she says, sliding her other hand over his arm, "since I saw you sitting in a dim, dirty bar in another world."

He murmurs her name again, only this time it's half a moan, and Emma pushes him back. His back slams against the door to his cabin and then they're kissing, all teeth and fire and passion, and Emma's whole body is alight.

Killian's tongue darts into her mouth and he's sucking her lower lip and biting and Emma moans, long and low. His arms are wrapped around her, pressing them together, and she's pulling frantically at his belt, ripping it free in a victorious frenzy. It's never been like this before, Emma thinks, almost smug with victory, never been quite so desperate. He won't stop groaning her name and Emma loves it, needs it, never wants him to stop. "Killian," she moans, and he pulls away from her, panting, looking like sin. His hair is mussed, his lips are red and swollen, his eyes are dark and desperate.

"What?" she whispers.

"Say it again," he demands, his voice pitched so deep it sends a series of rolling shock waves through her body.

She smiles instead, a wicked, teasing smile. "Say what again?"

He growls and spins her, slamming her back against the door, pressing her into it with the force of his whole body. She can feel his erection up against her thigh still and it's driving her insane. "Say my name," he insists, his nose a millimetre away, his eyes boring into hers. He punctuates it by rolling his body sinfully against hers, sliding against her, and Emma draws in a breath.

He smirks, mirroring her, and Emma breaths reverently, "Killian."

He groans as he meets her mouth with his own once more. Emma's never wanted anything so much in her life. She can only hope he knows, can only hope he understands just how much she needs this, by the way she's kissing him desperately and clawing at the button of his jeans with one hand. The other is fumbling for the door knob, and a moment later they're stumbling through the door, falling to the floor of his cabin.

Killian tries to pull her to her feet, and Emma just laughs, pulling him down to meet her instead. She can taste the smile against his lips. There will be many more nights, she thinks with a sudden moment of clarity, of smiles and laughter and sweet everlasting love to lull them to sleep. Not tonight.

She flips him onto his back, straddling him. His jeans are half undone already so she takes the opportunity to rip off the plain white shirt he's wearing. She's still fully dressed, in her boots and jeans and shirt and jacket, and Killian appraises this as she sits above him. Emma cocks a challenging eyebrow.

He lunges up to meet her, kissing the life out of her, tearing her jacket from her shoulders and throwing it across the room. His handless arm wraps around her back, keeping her in place, while his hand slides up her body to roughly palm her breast. Emma moans, breaking the touch of their lips and pressing kisses down his neck. She sucks at the hollow of his throat, biting and licking and hoping to leave a mark, as he murmurs nonsense in her ear.

"You are wearing far too much clothing," he growls, fumbling with her shirt. Emma pulls away from him briefly to pull it off, and then they're sitting there, together on the floor of his cabin, both shirtless, both looking utterly wrecked.

Emma takes a moment to gaze at him. She's only ever seen him bare chested once before, in the cave after the river, and at the time she was hardly using the opportunity as wisely as she could. Back then, she'd been too focused on trying not to let herself be attracted to him. Only now, when presented with his body against hers, does she realise just how foolhardy she'd been. But he only gives her a moment to drink in his well muscled body, his broad shoulders, the expanse of chest hair tapering to a narrow waist and those damned jeans before he scrambles to his feet, lifting her up and throwing her onto his bed.

Killian climbs on top of her, hovering above her, close but not touching. Emma reaches for him, tries to pull him down to press their bodies together once more, but he won't budge. He smirks infuriatingly at her and slides down to kiss her neck. He takes his time, sucking and biting, and Emma wriggles impatiently. He puts his hand against her hip and looks up at her. "Patience, love," he murmurs, sliding down further to nip at the rise of her breasts. "Good things come to those who wait."

"I've waited more than long enough," Emma says. The words taste like a promise. She rises up to snap the catch of her bra undone and reaches for the buttons of her jeans, but Killian grabs her hand before she can.

"Careful, love," he says, and Emma shivers deliciously at the danger in his eyes. "Don't make me restrain you."

Emma grins at the thought and says, "Not if I do you first."

She knows the exact moment he pictures it by the way his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. "Swan," he groans, reaching up to take off her bra. "I swear - "

Emma takes advantage of his closeness to kiss him again, to drown herself in the taste of his mouth. Whatever plans he had disappear along with her bra and his chest presses against her bare breasts. She grabs for his jeans and is finally, blessedly, able to remove them (albeit with a momentary and regrettable pause in the kissing to slide the damned things down off his legs). He's not wearing any underwear and Emma makes a pleased noise at the sight of Killian, naked at last.

She slides her hands appreciatively down the small of his back, over the soft curve of his ass and down his thighs. She presses kisses against the flat planes of his stomach, deliberately ignoring the thick bobbing length of him now on level with her breasts, and Killian lets out a breath. Emma smirks. He pulls her back up against him and returns the favour, kissing a line of fire down her stomach, sliding her jeans off. Emma raises her hips instinctively and he kisses her hip bone, mouthing along the line of it, just above her underwear. She tilts her head back and enjoys the desire burning in her belly. Her jeans come off and his hand comes up to slide underneath the edge of her pants.

Emma's expecting him to just get on with it, so when he starts to kiss up the inside of her thighs she squirms impatiently. He slides his scarred stump down to rest on her hip, urging her silently to stay still, while his hand slides tantalisingly over her without ever quite giving Emma what she desperately, desperately wants.

She slides her hand into his hair and pulls tight, moans his name again. She can feel him tense with desire but he refuses to give in. His mouth draws close - so close - to that sweet spot between her legs, and then he simply shifts over to her other thigh and repeats his line of kisses. Emma bucks ever so slightly against the restraint of his arm.

He reaches the top of her thigh and moves so that his head is directly between her legs. Emma looks down and her eyes meet his, those exceptionally blue eyes, as his breath ghosts over her most sensitive flesh. "Killian," she says again, trying hard not to sound so breathy, "Killian, I swear to - "

Killian grins and slides his fingers underneath her underpants again, ripping them off her. Emma spares an instant's thought for all the ruined clothing of the night, but then her head tilts back and she can't really bring herself to care about anything except Killian's mouth any more.

His mouth.

He wasn't lying when he told her he was good with his tongue.

He presses his face into her, licks soft teasing circles around her clit, sucks gently but insistently - which causes Emma to buck furiously against him, prevented from breaking his nose only thanks to his ever-present arm on her hips - then dives down to press his tongue inside her, flicking in and out, circling her opening and occasionally stopping to press gentle kisses against her thigh. Emma is overcome not only by the physical sensation of his mouth, his tongue, his lips, showing her exactly how much he desires her, but by the emotion behind those kisses. She thinks back for a second on their past, on the journey that led them to this point, and knows that it was entirely worth all the heartache to have someone love her as much as Killian loves her.

Then he introduces his fingers and Emma loses the capacity for thought.

She's reduced to nothing but a puddle of desire as his fingers fuck her and his lips suck on her clit and it's far too much for Emma, everything is too much, and she comes with his name on her lips and his head between her legs. She gasps his name, her new mantra, as she returns to something resembling rational thought and realises that both of her hands are now tangled in his hair. Killian's resting his chin on her hip, now, the lower half of his face still shining from eating her out, smirking insufferably at her.

"I did warn you," he says.

Emma tugs on his hair and he comes towards her, kissing her again, and she relishes the taste of herself on his lips. "You taste so fucking good," he murmurs, and Emma smiles. His cock brushes against her thigh and Emma slides a hand lazily down his chest, her eyes never leaving his, and takes hold of him. Killian inhales abruptly, his eyes fluttering closed, and Emma grins.

It takes a little maneuvering, since Killian - famed pirate captain, terror of the seas, scourge of Misthaven - has only a single bed, but before he knows what's happening Emma is on top of him. She's still slick between her legs and she takes full advantage of it, sliding against his cock, delighting in the way his mouth hangs open and his head falls back as she does.

"Swan," he pants, gripping her hip with his hand, staring at her with heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes, "do you have any idea -"

She leans down to cut him off, kissing him hard, still slowly grinding against him. "Shh," she breathes against his mouth.

"Emma," he says, and she can hear the pleading tone in his voice. She leans back, biting her lip, and drinks in the sight of him. He looks utterly wrecked. She can practically feel his desire for her, rolling off him in waves, pulsing into her body. Something in her responds and Emma is powerless to stop it. Not that she wants to.

She slides one last time, tilting her pelvis away from him, and Killian moans at the loss of contact. Emma presses a finger to his mouth to quiet him and he sucks it into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing. She's tempted to make him wait a little longer for the insubordination, but she craves him and she can't wait another minute.

Her hand circles his cock and his head tilts back again, his mouth faltering. Emma withdraws her hand and lifts his tip to meet her, poised to enter at any moment. Killian's breathing hard, and not looking at her, and Emma simply won't have it.

"Killian," she says, her voice dark. It takes a second, but he tilts his head up to look at her, his eyes pleading. "I want you to look at me," she commands.

His hand slides along her body, his eyes filled with wonderment. "I never want to see anything else," he says, and Emma is filled with affection for him. So she does the only thing left to her.

The tip of his cock slides in with no trouble. They're both panting and Emma bites her lip as he fills her, closes her eyes, allows the ecstasy to swell. It feels almost like coming home, like they really do belong together in every sense of the word, and she looks back down at him.

Killian lifts his upper body to meet her, brushes the hair out of her face with his hand, and kisses her tenderly. She rolls her hips against him and he moans, but doesn't break the kiss. She keeps up the motion, enjoying the shift of him inside her, enjoying the look on his face. She tightens her pelvic muscles and he groans so loud she worries someone might hear. Then she remembers exactly where they are and stops holding back.

She pushes him back down, gripping his face with her hand. "Killian," she says, voice direct and inescapable. "I want you to fuck me."

He growls and lunges and then they're on the floor, still entwined, still together, but now his weight presses down on her, pins her to the floor. He kisses her like it's his last chance and she responds eagerly, scratching hard along his back with no fear of hurting him, and the sounds that he makes encourage her. It's raw and animalistic and pure, and it's better than anything she's felt before. He thrusts into her and she pulls him deeper, grabbing his ass, squeezing and scratching and biting his lips.

He palms her breast and presses his chest against hers, and she begs him for more - harder, faster, deeper. She can't find the words to tell him how badly she wants him, how much she's always wanted him, how long she's waited for this, so she shows him instead. Shows him in the ripple of her body against his, the tightening of her muscles around his cock, the litany of nonsense and pleading that falls from her lips.

Killian shifts ever so slightly, pressing his head into her neck to kiss her there, and Emma nearly screams from the new way he's slamming into her. "Don't stop," she begs, "don't ever stop," and he doesn't, can't, won't, can only keep going, can only keep fucking her.

"I want you to come," she says now, her lips against his ear. It feels so good, so indescribably amazing, that she can't help but want to know that he feels it too. She strokes lightly down his back, squeezes around him, feels him shudder against her.

"Emma," he says, with only the slightest stutter. "Emma, you feel -"

He shifts again and the head of his cock slides effortlessly inside her and Emma does scream this time, feels her muscles tighten unconsciously, feels herself tip over the edge. Somewhere in her is the knowledge that she's saying his name and he's saying hers, and she can feel him coming too now, can feel him pulsing inside her as he thrusts one, two, three more times, and then he's done.

They lie there, on the floor of the captain's cabin, him still inside her, his head buried in her neck. One of her hands is stroking his hair tenderly; the other is still on his ass. She's exhausted and relaxed and she's never felt so whole as she does now.

He presses his lips against the side of her throat. Emma makes a contented noise and Killian moves as if to separate them. She frowns and pulls him back in.

"As enjoyable as it seems," he murmurs, nuzzling against her throat, "we can't lie here forever."

Emma groans, this time from annoyance rather than pleasure, and Killian slips out of her. He rests on his side next to her, his body still up against hers, and begins tracing patterns on her stomach. She looks up at him and he smiles down at her.

"God, you're sexy," she says. It's all she can think. He laughs at her and Emma fights the urge to blush.

"Darling, you have no idea," he says, leaning down to kiss her. It's a heated, long-lasting affair. Emma runs her hands over his body, touches his softening cock playfully, then pulls back as she remembers something.

"What?" he asks anxiously.

Emma nearly smacks herself in the head. "I forgot the condoms," she groans.

Killian looks just as embarrassed as she does in that moment. "Oh shit," he says. "I don't actually have any here."

"No, but, I bought some on the way over," she explains, scrambling to find her jacket, "because I wanted this and I wanted to be prepared -"

He reaches for her as he gets to his feet, catching her by the wrist and pulling her towards him. "Emma, love," he says, nuzzling against her cheek, "it's fine."

"Easy for you to say," she murmurs.

"I promise I don't have syphilis," he teases.

Emma rolls her eyes, hitting his shoulder playfully. It really doesn't seem all that bad, not when his arms are around her and he's smiling at her like that. "It's not exactly syphilis I'm worried about," she says, aiming to share in his light-heartedness. But his smile falters and Emma cocks her head. "What?"

"Would it be that bad?" Killian asks her, watching her with a measured gaze. She doesn't know what he means, and he elaborates. "More children."

Emma's eyes widen. "No," she says automatically, and then backtracks. "Well, not in general, but I was just hoping to not have to worry about it right now."

"Well," he says slowly, carefully, "I want you to know that - I want that. With you. And Henry."

"Want what, exactly?" she says softly. He looks oddly sad.

"A family," he says.

"Of course I want that with you," Emma says, lifting a hand to his face. She brushes her thumb over his cheekbones, down his face, across his lips. "But we have time, Killian." He relaxes, relieved, and Emma smiles again. "For the first time," she says, wonderingly, "we have all the time in the world."

She leans up to kiss him and this time it's unlike any kiss they've shared before. Soft, tender, and sweet. She pours everything she feels into the kiss and feels him respond in kind. When he pulls away, it's only so he can gaze at her again, with that soft wondering look on his face. (It's a look she's sure is mirrored in her own expression.)

"I love you," Killian says suddenly, staring searching at her.

Emma knows, has known for a long time, and yet still she's surprised. "I love you too," she says. "You know that."

It comes out as a question and Killian pulls her close, whispers in her ear, "Of course." She wraps her arms around him, squeezes him tight so he can't move away. She yawns against his shoulder and he laughs.

"Bed time for the lady," he says primly, leading her to his bed. His stupidly small bed.

"You're gonna need a bigger bed," she says sternly as she tumbles in, pulling him in after her. He puts his arm under her neck and his hand on her side, stroking her skin, but Emma's stuck with her arms folded awkwardly in front of her. "Since I'm going to be coming here so often."

"A ship is hardly a place to raise children," Killian says, scandalised. "I'll get a bigger bed when we move in together."

Emma raises an eyebrow. "Move in together?" she asks incredulously. "We've been dating, like, two weeks."

Killian roars with laughter. Emma is a little embarrassed at her instinctive response. It's modern day Emma's thoughts, the first reaction of a woman who knows nothing of love except a single bittersweet taste that ended with her in jail with nothing but the promise of car keys and a positive pregnancy test. Now that she's regained her old self, she feels differently.

"Ah yes," Killian says, still trembling with mirth. "Because agreeing to one day start a family and, presumably, get married some time in the near future - "

"I never said near," Emma says emphatically, poking him in the chest. "And you never said married!"

"Of course we're getting married," he says. "Emma, you are - quite literally - my soul mate."

"Yes, well," she huffs. "It'd be nice if you could at least ask."

His eyes are twinkling. "Emma Swan," he says, "my love, will you marry me?"

Emma sits up, staring crossly down at him. "You really think that's good enough?" she demands. "I'm telling you, Captain, you're gonna have to pull out all the stops for me." She lifts her nose high, doing her best to channel Regina at her most haughty. "I'm a princess, you know."

Killian's still laughing as he sits up to kiss her, running his fingers through her hair, tracing lines between the freckles on her shoulder. "Princess Emma," he says, "will you agree to a preliminary betrothal agreement with Captain Killian Jones of the Jolly Roger, pending a more thorough and magnificent proposal?"

"And at least three tasks to win my hand," Emma stipulates.

He raises three fingers in the air. "Saved you from torture by an evil witch," he says, lowering his fingers one by one, "at great personal sacrifice, may I add; saved you from said witch's evil curse; and provided you with means of breaking said curse. Already done."

Emma considers it for a moment. Sighs. "Fine," she says. "I agree."

His lips are sweet and Emma knows she will never get tired of kissing him. "Good," he says. "I love you."

She smiles into his mouth. "I love you too."