I submitted this for cswritingchallenge, but I guess we’re on hiatus there or something? [am I just out of the loop with that, btw? what happened there?]
Anywho - enjoy some angsty smut on the house.
Both Killian and Emma suffer from nightmares, but over time they find ways to deal with them together. Insert angst and smut here.
For a while they take turns waking up alone - their nightmares checkerboarded so that neither of them get any sleep.
Sometimes he wakes to the sound of his own voice, hoarse with desperation, pleading with the demons of his mind not to hurt her, to leave her and her family alone. Her concerned eyes search his as she cups his cheek, helping him steady his breathing.
Sometimes she wakes in a cold sweat, images of his handsome features twisted and marred in pain as her father’s blade slips from his back still fresh in her mind. He pulls her body closer to him, his hand stroking comforting circles into her hip as he whispers reassurances into her neck.
Eventually their bodies fall into a kind of rhythm, the rough nights hitting them both at the same time.
On those nights they don’t even try anymore. They admit defeat and head to the couch for popcorn and Netflix. Actually, it’s kind of become a ritual of sorts.
It’s a night like this when Emma dramatically throws her arm over her face with a huff – straightening her legs and pointing her toes a little as she breathes deeply [the sheets smell like him – soap, leather, the ocean] and tries remember what woke her. Surprisingly, nothing comes to mind.
She rolls over to get more comfortable and ease herself back to sleep when she notices.
He’s turned away from her, shoulders pulled in toward his chin, knees tucked toward his chest. He looks so small. His breathing is shaky and erratic, and she knows he’s awake. He must’ve been the reason she woke up.
She slips her arm around his waist [the way he flinches at her touch doesn’t go unnoticed] and pulls herself against him, kissing his shoulder lightly.
“You OK?” She whispers, voice filled with concern. This isn’t like the others. Something is wrong. She grows even more worried as the silence between them grows longer.
“Killian?” She says a little louder, gripping his hip and gently pulling it toward the bed to turn him on his back. He fights for a moment before she feels his body relax and allow her to pull him over.
Even in the low light she can see that his eyes are rimmed red and he can’t bring himself to look at her - he looks right through her.
“Tell me.” She traces his jawline with her fingertips, the movement pulling him from the recesses of his mind. When he finally looks at her it’s with both adoration and sadness.
“Was it the same one? With Gold?” She prompts. He only shakes his head a little in response.
He swallows hard - adam’s apple bobbing as he shifts a little.
“Dave.” He says simply, and she finally understands.
She knew that he remembered the alternate reality – he joked about holding it over her father’s head – and the memory had found it’s way into her dreams before, but he’d never talked about it haunting his own.
Seeing him like this made her feel like her heart was being ripped from her chest - which is funny considering it’s something he’s literally experienced and she’s only heard of. But she imagines this is what it feels like - pressure and shooting pain so overwhelming you can hardly breathe.
His face is blank again - she can see that he’s back there again, living the memory whether he’s away or asleep.
“Killian, come back to me.” She says lovingly - hand stroking his hair behind his ear.
“I’m trying, love.” He screws his eyes shut - trying to banish the thoughts by will alone.
When he opens them again she sees that he succeeded, but she knows him well enough to know the calm won’t last long without a distraction.
“Netflix?” she asks, propping herself on her elbow. “Or is there another distraction you prefer?” She puts her hand on her hip and pushes her chest out a little, smirking flirtatiously at him - hoping to break his sullen mood.
Finally, he smiles sweetly (not exactly the reaction she was hoping for, but she’ll take it) and places a soft kiss to her forehead.
“I don’t deserve you.” He says as he pulls back a little to meet her eyes with sincerity.
“Quit it with that crap.” She responds quickly, slapping his chest lightly - leaving her palm splayed over his heart - which beats a little faster at her candor. “I mean it.”
“As you wish,” he concedes. And she can tell the worst is over.
“Now, seriously, Netflix?” She offers, knowing they won’t be able to sleep again, anyway.
His lopsided grin returns (which makes her heart feel unbelievably full), and in one swift movement he pulls her on top of him.
“I believe there was talk of another distraction,” his hands hold her firmly in place while moves his hips in a teasing circle.
“As you wish” she echoes back to him.
He groans as she wriggles her hips a little so she can lower herself to him. He impatiently pulls her down to fuse their lips in a kiss that quickly leaves them short of breath.
“Bloody siren” he mumbles as she kisses a hot trail down his chest and dips her hand between them to palm at his length - she can feel him twitch and harden even further under her touch, his sharp intake of breath lets her know exactly what she’s doing to him.
She snakes her way even farther down, slipping her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers - pulling them down as she goes.
Reversing direction, she continues kissing up the line of his muscular leg - his shin, his knee, his quad, his hip bone. If she wasn’t practically dizzy with her own desire, she could probably hear his racing heart and shallow breaths.
As much as he loves the feeling of her slowly exploring his body, he feels the sudden urge to be in control, so he brings his hand to the small of her back, expertly flipping their positions – bringing him teasingly close to her core.
Her legs fall further open, unabashedly welcoming him further as he shifts his hips slowly, dragging his cock through her dripping folds - and she groans and grinds against him - searching for the friction her body desperately craves.
“Always so wet for me,” he growls, continuing his motions.
She can hardly take it anymore, every fiber of her being is burning with want and he’s taking so long.
“Killian, please –” her plea has barely left her lips before he buries himself completely in her with a single solid stroke.
“Bloody hell, Emma.” He chokes out, stilling inside her before the feel of her stretched tightly around him takes him over the edge.
“God, Killian, move” she gyrates her hips and swallows his moan with a kiss.
He sets a languid pace, biting his lower lip as he catalogues every sensation, every breathy moan, every needy kiss.
Before long he can feel her start to tense - she’s just as close as he his when he slips his hand to where they’re joined, quickly finding her bundle of nerves and drawing light circles as she curses and praises him.
“Oh god, yes” she doesn’t even notice how loud she is and he swells with pride at the way she reacts to his touch.
“Don’t stop - don’t stop” she keeps pleading with him as he insistently rubs tight circles with his hand and drives his hips into her earnestly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes her see stars just before she crashes over the edge - contracting around him with such force that it’s all he can do to thrust into her one last time with a sharp snap - crying her name as he spills himself inside her.
They’re a sated tangle of limbs and linens as they catch their breath.
“I love you, Killian.” She sighs as she snuggles into his chest.
“And I you, Swan. Always.” He kisses the top of her head and pulls her closer.
Once again, he feels complete. Whole. Content. And they’re lulled back into a peaceful sleep - the nightmares replaced with heartwarming dreams of the future they’re making together.