Man, this took forever to write. Writers block is rough and I don't want it anymore.

That being said….fun prompt :) Emma in leather pants and Killian going gaga over her.

Enjoy!

…

The Perks of Moving

…

"Swan," he breathes, trying to keep his voice down, "what are you doing?"

She grins up at him and continues unbuttoning his shirt while, just around the corner David is waiting for her to show up for her shift at the station. "Just, shh," she hushes, leaving several buttons still done up, sliding her hands back up his chest and parting the shirt, being sure to run her hands over every inch she has just uncovered. "I miss your pirate gear sometimes," she admits, pressing a kiss just below his collar bone, "I miss seeing so much of you." A finger trails down his sternum to touch in the middle of his chest.

Her tongue flicks out over the pulse point in his neck and she can feel his heart beat in his throat. It's getting beyond ridiculous not having her own place and she's very close to just jumping him in his hotel room – the gossiping wolves downstairs be damned. But she knows it will all be worth it once she finally moves into the apartment she had purchased just the week before.

His hand tightens on her waist, then follows the curve of her ass, pulling her hips against his with a groan. She reaches a hand up, cupping it over his mouth as her eyes widen and she takes a step back.

They can hear as the chair moves on the other side of the station, David probably getting up to investigate the source of the strangely erotic sounds coming from just outside the door. Emma shoos Killian away, the moment decidedly broken. She runs a hand through her hair, swipes the other across her lips to fix any remaining lipstick she might have left after making out with her pirate boyfriend and smiles as she faces her father.

David narrows his eyes at the leather jacket clad figure escaping out through the front door but holds his tongue, informing Emma that Will Scarlet is still in lock up from the bar fight the night before and confirming what time she would like help moving this weekend.

Emma pats her father on the shoulder as she steps past him. "As early as possible," she says.

…

She'd be lying if she said that she hadn't had plans for this night and how it would go. David having to run to the hospital with a very high fevered Neal and requesting Killian take the first few hours of his shift while Emma finishes unpacking was not on her list of possibilities.

Nevertheless, it seems to have worked in her favour.

Henry had left about an hour prior to stay with Regina until they could get his bed sorted out tomorrow and Emma had come to the dreaded task of filling her wardrobe. Since, for the first time since living here in Storybrooke, she couldn't cross the town line, Emma had called one of her friends from New York to post her some of her belongings. The conversation with Kayla had been quite awkward, ("yes, Storybrooke," "In Maine," "No I think I'll be staying here a while.") but it had been nothing on the delivery process.

In the end, she was just glad she had some new clothes to wear on dates with Killian. Storybrooke wasn't exactly known for its dress shops.

She rummages through the box, pulling out a couple of nice dresses and leather jackets. It seems that, even in her year of fake memories, something from this world might have been calling to her, she decides as she hangs up a very leather dress. She'd never admit it to Killian, but it's undeniable that his particular style was heavily sampled in her New York wardrobe.

A grin crosses her face as she pulls the last item from the box. She had never actually worn them, but something about them had obviously called to her. She places the leather pants carefully out of the way, knowing exactly what she is going to be wearing tonight.

…

She runs her hands down her thighs for the hundredth time, chewing the inside of her cheek and hoping upon everything that she looks as sexy as she feels.

Killian had text her (yes, the man had learnt how to text) to let her know he was finally on his way to her. She'd checked herself in the mirror one last time and has positioned herself casually leaning against the back of the couch, directly in the line of sight of anyone who walks through the front door.

She'd raided his small case of clothing as well, finding the black cotton shirt he had worn when they had met. The buttons were already undone to halfway down his chest and, when she slipped it over her head, she decided to leave the shirt open to where it fell, the long line exposing her cleavage and hinting at the edges of the lacy bra she had pulled out of the depths of her wardrobe.

She had slipped on her leather pants, thankful that they did indeed still fit her, and found a pair of stiletto heels to complete the ensemble. Her lips are painted red and her hair hangs long and when she hears the key turning in the lock at the door, she bites the inside of her cheek to keep her nerves from taking her over.

As soon as his eyes land on her though, she realises that she had nothing to worry about at all.

His jaw sort of clenches, hand tensing on the door handle. She bites her lip, and pushes herself off the back of the couch, taking cautious steps towards the pirate.

The sun is setting outside and the colours playing across the apartment dance over the black of her outfit, dipping past the thin cotton of the shirt she wears and touching her fair skin. She can see his eyes roaming her body and she has never felt so sexy.

"Like what you see?"

The corners of his mouth twitch up in a subtle smile, as though saying that she has no idea how much he likes what he is looking at. "Oh yes," he says, reaching out with his hand as though he doesn't know where to touch her first.

She steps into his embrace, grasping his wrist and bringing his hand to the small of her back. His thumb presses into her muscles there and it is a tense moment of, "are we really doing this?" that passes between them. But then her free arm wraps around his neck and he uses his hook to lift her leg to his hip, his arousal evident, and this certainly doesn't feel like a dream any more.

It's like a dam wall has broken when he kisses her; it's sweet and possessive and she can't breathe. His hips roll into hers and his hand holds her firm against him, slipping down to cup the curve of her ass.

There's a strong scent of him and her in the air – his shirt on her skin, his body in her space – and she feels lightheaded with the intensity. He breaks away for a moment, his lips pressing chaste kisses against her cheek and her nose while he catches his breath, and her eyes open to see the completely wrecked expression on his face. She moves her hand across his jawline, easing the tension. "What's wrong?" she whispers.

He shakes his head, eyes finally opening and landing on her, "Everything is right, love. I'm just trying not to rush."

She smiles at his sentiment, kissing his lips softly, "I think we've waited long enough, Killian."

He's about to ask if she's sure, she can feel it. So, beating him to it, she presses her lips to his and reaches down between them to attack the button on his jeans. Her leg lowers from his hip and she pulls him backwards down the hall, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and allowing his hand and hook to slide up her sides as he removes his shirt from her body. He kicks off his shoes and cups a lace covered breast, squeezing gently at the flesh and smiling when she moans.

By the time the backs of her knees touch the edge of the bed, she can feel the full length of his naked form against hers. His lips are on her neck and his thigh is between her legs causing a delightful friction against her core. Her breath hitches and she falls backwards on the soft mattress, pulling him down on top of her and rolling her whole body against his.

He can hear her whimpering but it's only when he lifts his head that he hears her soft words, "More, more."

His hand trails across her skin, settling between her legs and rubbing small circles over her most sensitive area. His hook brushes her hair away from her neck as he leans on his elbow and begins another assault on the skin of her jaw, his stubble tickling her while his tongue tastes her.

His fingers dip down further and she's close, teetering on the edge of a fall into bliss. He bites at her pulse point and she arches off the bed, clamping her legs together around his hand and practically vibrating through her release.

As her back returns to its resting place on the mattress and his fingers slow their pace, she reaches for him, hand curling around his length and stroking at the same pace as his hand moves against her.

She opens her eyes, meeting his desire filled gaze and biting her lip when he begins curling his fingers, stoking the embers that remain after her orgasm. She speeds her pace up to match the things he is doing to her, kisses his lips clumsily when he leans in closer, can taste his smile through all of this.

"What are you grinning at?" she asks, chuckling against his lips.

She lets out another breathy laugh when all he can do is reply with, "Sent from the gods, you are."

Swiping her thumb over the head of his cock for effect, she nods, "Could say the same about you."

It's still new to both of them, having someone who cares so damn much about them, who would put them first and fight for them. Emma realises that the fact they seem to be good in bed together is a bonus. But it only feels so good because it's so damn right.

His hips start bucking into her hand and she knows he's getting closer. She widens her legs, urging him to settle between them, guiding him to her entrance. His hand lifts out of the way, playing across her clit instead and she knows that she's close as well. She kisses him and he understands; they can do slow and steady later, tonight is just about feeling.

She tilts her hips, drawing him in and the groan that escapes them fills the room. "Emma… Gods above…"

She smiles coyly, "Told you couldn't handle it."

The dangerous glint in his eye at the challenge in her voice is what does it for her. She pushes herself up to pull him down, reaching a hand around to his hip and urging him to move. He raises an eyebrow at her and she doesn't need him to say it to know that he's suggesting that perhaps she's the one who can't handle it.

But his resolve to tease her breaks within seconds and they both gasp as he starts to move. He starts slow, but those whimpering gasps escape her lips again and all he can hear is, "More, more."

Her feet slide up his calves and the back of his thighs, long legs wrapping around his waist and pulling herself into him. His groans muffle at the junction of her neck and shoulder and she can feel them both beginning to fall apart.

He raises up slightly, eyes meeting hers, "I'm close darling." And she knows it's more than just him warning her. His world wouldn't have contraception, she realises, but she's on the pill and, if she's being honest, the prospect of a little brother or sister for Henry doesn't scare her as much as it once had. Not with him. And so her legs around his waist tighten and she nods and it's then that they both know this is real. This is more than anything they've had before.

His eyes slam shut as he pulses into her, hips still moving wildly as he presses his thumb to her clit in between them and brings her over the edge moments later. She's still gasping for breath when he rolls onto his back, tucking her into his side.

She kisses his chest, smiling in a way that can only be described as deliriously sated. "That's one way to christen the new place."

He turns his head, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose and chuckling slightly, "I can't wait to see the other ways."

…

They eventually crawl out of bed for food and gather up their scattered clothing along the way, piling it up to be sorted later. He smirks when he sees her leather pants put on top of the growing pile and all she can do is shrug and ask, "What?"

His hand squeezes at her hip and pulls her into him once more, "I had every intention of helping you unpack until I saw you in those."

She bites her lip, hand absently stroking at his neck, confession in the air, "I had no intention of unpacking tonight."

That only makes his smile wider. "Well," he says, leaning down to catch his arm under her knees and lifting her up, coyly walking back towards the bedroom, "In that case…"

She slaps his shoulder, "I need food, pirate."

He laughs and she can feel it rumble through his chest, "As you wish."

"But later," she starts, as he sets her back down on her feet, "Well, I do own a lot of leather."

She leaves him standing on the spot as she saunters back to the kitchen but she swears she can hear him mutter, "Bloody pirate," under his breath.

…

Thoughts?