Rating: S for Smuff (sort of, mostly for talking about sexytimez)
Word Count: 1615
A/n: Got this idea while daydreaming about fanfic at work. Go figure. lol
His chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest, a silken, happy sound that reverberated through her like a warm, soothing pulse, swimming through her veins and spreading through her body like a slow burn.
Emma loved these moments.
She used to hate them, avoided them at all costs – but not with Killian.
These relaxing, gentle seconds just after making love, his body still suspended over hers, a firm, pleasant weight pressing her down into the bed at Granny’s, his muscles trembling from exertion, always careful not to crush her - she actually liked this now. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck, pressing a final, chaste kiss there and then pulling back, a lazy smile on his face, just staring (he did that a lot, she didn’t mind it so much anymore either).
“Mmm,” he hummed, his smile widening, making tiny dimples appear that she hadn’t noticed were there. “I like that.”
He shifted his weight above her to rest on his bad arm, lifting a hand to brush her cheek, illustrating exactly what he meant. “The way you flush when you’re sated.” His hand drifted down her face, fingers tracing lines down her neck. “And your neck,” he dropped a kiss there as he spoke, “and your shoulders, and your breasts,” he murmured, his hand continuing its trail down her side. “You look lovely in red, Swan.”
Emma felt her blush deepen as his eyes burned into hers, all sincerity and playful passion that she was only beginning to get used to seeing, his thumb tracing light circles at her hipbone. He finally broke eye contact and dipped to kiss a line between her breasts and she felt her pulse quicken, unconsciously pushing herself up to meet his touch.
They’d just had sex and he could still make her heart race. It was strange.
She was tired. She was satisfied (in so many ways that she couldn’t even begin to explain). But she didn’t want to leave bed. She didn’t want to stop touching him.
It was so new.
She couldn’t deny how alive he made her feel, how wanted. She didn’t know exactly what this is, shied away from what everyone said they were and what that meant, but she could get used to this.
He drew back, blue eyes shimmering with an overwhelming amount of love, hope, satisfaction (she loved that she had her part in putting all three there). Emma sighed, just watching him for a moment, wanting to end the silence, pay him a compliment, tell a tension breaking joke - nothing came to mind.
Of course nothing came to mind.
There was so much to compliment, too much to sort through. He was gorgeous, he was kind, he was attentive, he was- he was perfect and the fact that she knew that he wasn’t, that he knew that he wasn’t even close (and he said it often), made her initial thoughts feel all the more correct.
She didn’t know how to say it – she never had. She wasn’t used to compliments and she rarely gave them, and it made times like this difficult.
“You bite your lip,” she said finally.
“When you’re close. Sometimes you- you bite your bottom lip and look down,” she paused, gauging his reaction, encouraged by the interest in his expression and the way the blue of his eyes darkened slightly. “like you’re watching yourself, us,” she stumbled, feeling herself only grow redder - nerves more than embarrassment.
She didn’t know how to do this. Intimacy. But she was trying.
He hummed again, his smile twisting into an amused smirk. “Does it bother you?”
“No,” she answered honestly, running her teeth over her own lip and smiling. “I kinda like it. You really, I don’t know, get in the zone.” Her eyes flitted back to meet his steady gaze. “It’s kinda hot.”
He chuckled, leaning down and covering her mouth with his. Their kiss was slow and deep, his tongue sliding and tangling in a leisurely dance with hers and she savored his soft groan as he pulled away and rolled to the side – slightly disappointed by the loss of his weight against her.
Seconds passed. Emma could feel old instincts rise, her mind wandering to her schedule for the rest of the day – shower so you don’t smell like pirate, grab some lunch, pick up Henry from Regina’s after dinner – she was just about to tell him that they should get up when-
“I like the way you roll your hips when I’m on top,” he commented casually, turning his head to look at her as if he were simply telling her the time of day, as if this conversation was normal (and it felt like it was, god, maybe it could be). “You move like you’re in control, moving just how you want, taking me even from below,” he snickered, fingers skimming along her taught stomach, leaning close to kiss her shoulder. “I find it… quite sensual.”
“I guess I’m just used to doing all the work if I want it to be good.”
“Aye!” His brow furrowed, his face twisting into mock offense, the smile still playing at the corners of his mouth because the ache in his muscles and the way she was still limp and boneless on her side of the bed told him it wasn’t personal. “I resent that.”
“I didn’t mean you,” she retorted, playfully smacking him in the chest. “If you meet some guy at a bar and you’re both drunk, it’s not like it’s usually this deep, intimate experience,” she shrugged, “It’s just – sex. I was used to that.”
“No longer necessary, love,” he promised (it sounded too much like a promise than a brag, it really did).
She smiled, reaching out, fingers lightly grazing his biceps and curving around the muscle there, unable to find it in her to care at this point if it was a promise.
“I like it when you bite.”
He arched his eyebrows, mouth quirking into a grin. “So you like it rough, Swan?”
“We’ve been sleeping together for two weeks, you tell me, pirate,” she replied smoothly, arching her own brow to match his until he chuckled. “You never do it too hard, just enough.”
“I think I do a lot of things just enough, don’t you?” he whispered, enunciating each word meticulously, knowing exactly what it did to her. He inched his hand over her waist, wrapping his arm around her and urging her onto her side so that they were flush together again, their faces only inches apart. “I like when you tell me that you’re close.”
She opened her mouth to speak.
“Not that I can’t tell it on my own,” he assured her quickly (this time he was definitely bragging), “but I enjoy hearing it.”
Emma smirked and ran a palm up his chest, toying with the dark, coarse hair there, watching his chest slowly rise and fall before looking back up and knowing full well that he’d like this next one.
“I like the way you look when you come.”
His brows quirked once more, tongue flicking out to swipe a line along his lower lip. “Do you then?”
“Yeah. You got a problem with that?” she teased, sliding her hand higher onto his shoulder.
“Not a one. Well then, I like the way that you sound,” he nuzzled her neck. “I like the way you curse like a bloody sailor just before,” he kissed her sweetly. “And during,” he added as an afterthought. “And how you always say my name just a bit louder a few seconds into it, just before your body relaxes. Quite loud, actually,” he laughed, pinching her ass, making her jump.
“I do not.”
“Oh yes you do, love,” he chuckled, nosing her chin up so he could trail featherlight kisses down the column of her throat, rubbing his hips against hers sensuously. “It’s what sent me over the bloody edge. Hearing you practically scream for me, knowing the pleasure I’m responsible for,” he mumbled, his tone sounding slightly strained as he kissed her neck. “I’d originally thought to try for another but that just… gods, but you’re irresistible, Swan.”
She laughed, threading her fingers through his hair “Oh, so Captain Hook doesn’t have the stamina he seems to think that he does?”
Killian growled, hand curving around to grip her ass, tugging her against him firmly. “You’re sailing dangerous water, Darling. Don’t tempt me to prove myself.”
"I think I could handle it… but not now. You win this time," she sighed, letting her sore, used self melt into the pillow (into his arms), feeling the pull of sleep begin its insistent tug.
There was a long pause before either of them spoke and she was just starting to drift off when she heard him, quiet but there.
“I like the way that your heart can’t be taken, except by me.”
Emma opened her eyes to see his, full of love but scared, just a little, that maybe he was wrong, maybe he could still lose her like he’d lost everyone else. She swallowed hard, staring back at his throat, watching him swallow too, his jaw tightening, setting into a sharp line at the heavy turn of the conversation. Finally, she nodded. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close, burying her face into his neck and kissing him there gently, hoping that the action said everything that she couldn’t say yet.
I’m not going anywhere. I need you. I love you.
“Yeah. Me too.”
She snuggled in closer after a moment, sighing contentedly when his arms tightened around her.