Mantras

A/N: First of many many Captain Swan drabbles. Unbetaed.

Summary: Mantras he can't keep to himself + Favorite intimate times. His and hers. Sexy fluffiness.

Words: 941

Rating: M-ish?

She loves it when it's sinfully slow, like that first time. When he takes his time to caress every corner of her skin with his hand or his lips. When they look at each other as they build up the pace. When every movement she makes seems to scream I love you. When every sigh, every moan, every whimper is sorely and purely his body trying not to verbalize what he's thinking. Because repeating I love you over and over again like a mantra is pretty dangerous at this stage in their relationship. So he says it, without saying it and she hears it without listening.

He loves it when she initiates it, when it's hard and fast and full with need. When she lets it build up for a while, because she's a little too shy to show how much she needs him. So when she does initiate it's like the kiss in Neverland: rough and hot and confusing. Those are the times when he (un)intentionally uses his hook to rip her clothes off because they are a train wreck waiting to happen, they have no buts or stops. He takes her against the door or on the floor or over the table. Wherever it's available at the time. Once even in the supply closet at the station. There's no knowing when it will happen, he stops trying to predict it. Those are always the times where they almost get caught, but they simply don't care.

She specially likes it when it's early in the morning before work, when he stays over. When the first rays of sunlight dance in his eyes and he kisses her good morning, and she just knows there is no other place in the world where he'd rather be. Those times it's special because none of them know where one starts or the other ends, when it's between a dream and reality. Those are always the mornings she arrives early to work with two cups of coffee and a surprising good mood. David always suspects something is up, and laughs about it at dinner with Mary Margaret until it starts to happen everyday. And that's when they realize that Emma and Hook are living together unofficially.

He likes to remember those times when she gets in the shower with him at the break of dawn. When he didn't realize he woke her up unintentionally, and she can't bear not to look at him first thing in the morning. When they wash each other's worries away, when she shows him she's not afraid to touch his most sensible spot, his stump. She always takes time to kiss every scar on his body and he feels like it took a bloody long time for him to find her. Those times, after, she always jokingly complains that he has got to stop waking up so early, he's not a sailor anymore and she needs her sleep. It's bittersweet, and on the first few times he just smiles half-heartedly as he gets dressed. Then, one time, as soon as she says it she looks at him and realizes that she just said something horribly insensible. That time she covers her mouth and watches as he weakly puts on his leather pants. She hugs him and feels the weight of his lost home. He's tracing maps on her bare back when she shyly suggests he should move in. He smiles at her, happiness spreading through his eyes as he cockily states that they already live together now. She punches her arm playfully, and just to make it official they go shopping for a bigger bed.

But maybe her favorite time was that when they were almost reaching a year together. When she takes him to the docks blindfolded as he whispers innuendos all the way. He talks about skinny-dipping and summer days, as she can't contain her laughter. When she took off his blindfold and showed him his new vessel, The Black Swan as he baptized it days later. She can recall how his eyes filled with tears and how he laughed and hugged her and twirled them around and around. It took months to convince Leroy to sell it to her, but it was worth it. That was the first time they made love in the little cot in the cabin as the sea rocked the ship. It always reminds her of the first time ever, because he's insatiable, he couldn't get enough of her, he ran his hand and lips all over her body and stared intently into her eyes as he entered her. That time he whispered I love you over and over again, like a mantra unable to contain himself.

But maybe the best thing about that night was to wake up afterwards, limbs entwined, smiling at each other. When he asked a question and all she could say was yes, a million times yes.

One night, while drinking wine sitting on the couch at their home after a long day, her feet comfortably over his lap, she curiously asked him what his favorite time was. He looks at her lovingly and can't really pinpoint at one, because he loves every one of them, that every time was unique, because every time they are making love they're making love, they're breathing life into each other, they fill their once empty body shells with magic. And that was the time, the first time, that she said I love you first. The first time she repeated his mantra over and over again as she caressed every last inch of his body. The first time of many many more.