A/n: I'm not even entirely certain what sparked this fic, I had received an anon last week that was sort of bashing romcoms and endearing stories - which happen to be my favorite genre - and it sparked this, I believe. I'm excited for this little three part fic, that spans the weekend that will change their lives forever. The characters are the same, the situations are similar, just without magic and without Killian losing his hand. I hope you enjoy reading and I encourage you to comment and let me know what you think, it always helps my muse! Enjoy!

Emma swiped her thumb over the unlock button on her phone, eyeing the photo of the man she was supposed to be on a date with. He had sandy hair, brown eyes, and sparse, poorly kept stubble on his chin. His name was Daniel Rhodes, but he was using the assumed name Ryan Dale – which was the name of the man she'd found on a dating app. But it looked like he was going to be a no show, just like he was with his bail.

The bar was noisy and a little overcrowded, which was exactly why she'd chosen this place for the date. Just on the off chance that Mr. Rhodes was a sleazy as his case file said that he was. She didn't need that much trouble in her life.

"I can't bloody work out why someone would stand-up a lovely lass like you."

The voice caught Emma off guard and it took her a moment to realize that the man was talking to her. She lifted her gaze, turning to find the owner of the voice. Her brows shot upwards as her eyes found impossibly blue eyes (even in the low light of the bar) staring back at her.

"Did you say something?"

The dark haired man flashed her a charming grin and moved from one seat over so he was sitting closer to her. "I did. I was saying," He motioned to her phone, "Gorgeous lady like you, sitting here on a Friday night staring at her phone. You got stood up, didn't you?"

Emma's shoulders sagged, her head canting to the side, "It's not even that big of a deal." She admitted, clicking her phone off and laying it on the top of the bar. "I met him on a dating app." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Well, there's your first mistake." He had the sort of accent that made you want to hand him a phonebook and have him read the entire thing to you. Which was incredibly unfair, because if Ryan did show up, late as he would be, she'd have to stop talking to this one in favor of her job.

Emma brought her beer glass up to her lips, downing the golden ale. "How's that a mistake?"

He shrugged, "People lie on dating sites. You just get one face – the one they want you to see. I'd much prefer reading someone in person."

That she could admire. "I'm the exact same way." She told him, a slight smile on her lips. "I'm really good at reading people." Her eyes raked over him pointedly, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek. "He wasn't even my type." Which was only partially the truth.

"Where are my manners," He chuckled, sitting his mug of liquor down before offering her his hand. "Name's Killian Jones."

Emma rubbed her lips together, before taking his hand and shaking it. "Emma Swan." Despite the fact that tonight was supposed to be about a job, she couldn't find herself feeling the least bit disappointed that Ryan Dale hadn't shown up. Otherwise she wouldn't have found herself talking to a man that had no right being as gorgeous as he was. "It's nice to meet you." She offered, "With that accent, I'm going to guess that you're not from Boston, are you?"

Unless he was from South Boston – otherwise, he was definitely not someone she'd be going home with. She didn't sleep with guys who lived too close to her, just in case they both took the same T one day and he asked why she'd left before he even woke up. She had a pattern and she stuck to it. The scratch was itched and no one got hurt.

"Aye." Killian replied, resting his arms against the top of the bar. "I'm just in town for the weekend."

Emma arched a brow, "Oh?" He really was turning out to be the perfect guy for her tonight. And with the way he kept licking his lips, she had a feeling he'd be good. "And what brings to Boston?"

"I'm in the Navy." He explained, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Seeing as its Memorial Day on Monday, we've been given the long weekend off. What better way to celebrate than to have a few pints in a bar, with a beautiful woman."

That was twice now that this completely stranger had complimented her looks and, while she usually scoffed at the flattery, fairly certain most men only used it to get into a woman's pants, she found that his sounded incredibly sincere – which took her by surprise.

"So, what's your story?"

Emma pushed her fingers through her hair, resting one elbow on the top of the bar. She didn't get that personal with someone. She didn't talk about her personal life, or her job, or anything. Only a few of her closest friends had even gotten under her skin enough to know about her past. But this man had something about him that just made it seem easy to talk.

"You know, most men might take your silence as off-putting." Killian quipped, his impossibly blue eyes glinting with something mischievous. "But, I love challenge… Perhaps I should guess what you do."

"Be my guest." Emma countered with an impish grin. "You're never going to get it."

She held his gaze for a long moment, before she watched his gaze sweep over her, her heart rate speeding up as his eyes lingered on her every curve. There was something incredibly erotic about the way his tongue moved behind his lips. The way it pressed against the inside of his cheek, swept over his teeth as his lips parted briefly, before it darted out to wet lips that seemed made for kissing.

"I'm going to assume that your date was part of your job."

Emma's eyes widened, "Are you calling me a hooker?"

"That was not what I said!" Killian protested with a laugh, his lips curving upwards with a cocky smile that she either wanted to slap or kiss off of him. "I simply said that I thought it was part of your job."

"And why do you think that?"

"Well, you didn't seem overly concerned about him not showing up. I also caught sight of the dating app you had open and you do not strike me as the sort of woman who uses that site." His eyes raked over her again. "So what do you do… Perhaps you work as a bounty hunter?"

Emma looked around the bar then, her brows creased together. "Alright, this isn't funny… Did Ruby or Mary Margaret set you up to do this or something?"

"Who?"

"I'm a bailbonds person… essentially a bounty hunter for assholes who skip out on their bail. How the fuck did you guess that?"

"You're an open book I suppose." Killian motioned for the bartender to fill up his own drink, before looking towards Emma, "You want a refill. I'm buying."

Her lashes fluttered as she stared at him, dumbstruck for a moment before she muttered something that must have sounded like acceptance of his offer, because he motioned to the bartender to fill her up too.

This was not a turn of events she saw coming. She prided herself on being a student of human nature, surveying a situation and visualizing the outcome. But she had not expected the gorgeous Irishman beside her to read her that well. Even if he meant well, that was the sort of familiarity that sent her packing.

She'd finish the beer and then she'd be out of there.

Emma knew exactly what Mary Margaret would say if she were there. How she'd lecture her on always running away from situations that could potentially be amazing. But Mary Margaret lived in an idealistic world where "true love" happened on the first try and you only had to worry about your crazy step-mother trying to steal your inheritance.

Ruby used to be a girl after her own heart. She'd never looked down at her for her nameless one night stands, because she had done the exact same thing up until the moment she met her med-student boyfriend.

"I'm sorry."

Killian's voice pulled her from her thoughts and she forced a smile as she turned to look at him. "What?"

"I didn't mean to pry or… anything like that."

"You didn't." Emma sighed, her shoulders sagging. "It's stupid, seriously. I just don't really talk about my personal life with –"

"One night stands?"

Emma's brows creased together, "Yeah." He really was a little too good at reading her. "I hope you don't take offense by that." She said carefully, studying him carefully. His own brows were furrowed together as his gaze dropped to his mug of alcohol. "You seem like a great guy."

Killian shook his head, "It's nothing, lass. I myself am a seasoned traveler into the world of one night stands." He admitted, knocking back a decent portion of his drink. "Comes with the whole different port every weekend, thing."

Silence fell between the two of them, their gazes dropping back to their drinks for a long moment before Killian broke the silence, clicking his tongue against his teeth, "You play billiards?"

Emma canted her head to one side, searching his expression. He still looked apologetic, almost hesitant, but there was still that glint in his eyes that drew her in. He was dangerous in the most innocent of ways. Despite her reservations, she could picture how easily the two of them could get wrapped up in each other, lost in whatever this unusual connection was.

"I do. But do you really want to get your ass beat by me?"

Killian's expression shifted into something positively sinful. "Depends. If you're going to beat my ass if you when, do I get to spank you if I win?"

Emma's heart skipped a beat and instead of answering him she downed her beer and headed towards the pool table with a coy smile plastered to her lips. She could hear him following behind her and purposely made a show of swaying her hips as she moved.

She was firm in her belief that she could beat him, even without playing dirty, but that didn't mean she wouldn't make it hard for him. Emma curled her fingers around her pool stick, letting them slide down over the wood, mimicking something else entirely. She met his gaze from beneath her eyelashes, a smirk on her lips as she caught the way his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Is there a problem Killian?"

"None whatsoever." He retorted quickly, chalking up the tip of his cue stick, before moving to set up the balls. "Though, it's good to see you're as good with your hands as I am with my mouth." Killian quipped, sweeping his tongue of his bottom lip, catching her gaze.

Clearly, playing pool had not been the best decision on her part, because verbal foreplay was not making a quick getaway.

"Do you want me to break or would you like that honor?" Killian questioned, stepping around behind her a little too close.

Emma glanced back over her shoulder at him, "Oh, I'd never say no to being a ball buster." She retorted with no small amount of sass. She moved around the pool table, lining up her cue stick and making her shot. The balls collided, skittering across the table.

"Looks like your solids." Killian commented, leaning against the pool table as he watched the seven knock the six into the pocket.

"You worried? I'm already one in." Emma moved around the table again, trying to size up which ball she should shoot at next. She chose the two, which was precariously pressed against the edge of the table, just a few inches from the pocket, but her line-up was all wrong and it careened across the table in the opposite direction.

"Oh, I'm definitely not worried now." Killian remarked, pocketing the ten and twelve with one flick of his wrist. The rest of his balls were nowhere near the pockets and his second go nearly sent the eight ball into the corner pocket.

"You always play it that close?" She questioned, slipping between him and the table, purposely brushing against him as she moved. She could be a devious tease when it benefited her. "Would have been a shame to end so soon."

Killian hummed, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip. "I always take my time. Maybe I meant to miss that shot. Thought I'd let you get some enjoyment out of this."

Emma scoffed, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye as she leaned over the table, the tip of her cue stick slipping between her fingers as she lined up a shot and pocketed another ball. She turned to look at him, blowing the chalk off the tip of her stick, making certain her gaze never pulled away from his. "Oh, so you're a giver?"

"Might be." His eyes raked over her, watching the way she bent over the table again and almost made her second shot. "Guess you'll have to find out." Killian moved around the table then, eyeing the balls, trying to find the perfect angle for his shot.

"A lot of men promise to make the game enjoyable, but they never tend to do well with the follow through." Emma commented, just as he made his shot, and her words clearly through him off his game as the cue ball skittered across the table striking nothing. "Just like that."

Killian's eyes snapped to her face and the look there in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat. "Well, I'm not other men."

"Ah, a breed apart?" Emma rolled her eyes, moving around the table. She made easy work of knocking out three more balls, leaving her with the one and the five left to clear off. "I thought you said you were good at this game. Looks like you are going to get whipped."

Killian snorted. "I don't lose that easily." He turned so his back was to the table, the cue stick easily slipping through his fingers as he lined up a shot and made it – backwards, pocketing a ball that could have easily caused the eight ball to fall into the corner pocket.

"Damn." Emma breathed out, either marveling at his skill or the fact that the way he had bent backwards had enabled her to catch a glimpse of his bulge. Someone was packing.

"There's every chance I might win." Killian quipped, pocketing all but one ball – putting him in the lead. "You think you could handle losing, lass?"

Emma arched one brow, giving him an imperious look. "You haven't won yet, buddy. Don't be so sure of yourself." She brushed her fingers over his chest as she passed by him, sparing him one last look before she circled the table, pocketing her last two balls. She made a shot at the eight ball, but it didn't even come close to the pocket she was aiming for.

"Let a pro handle this." Killian drawled out, moving around the table like he owned the goddamn bar. He held himself in such a way that made her want to jump him and knock him down all at the same time. He executed the shot so perfectly, the eight ball bounced across the table, coming to rest directly in front of the pocket he'd called.

"Someone didn't give that enough push." Emma smirked as she leaned over the table, called the pocket, and nailed it. He might never admit it, but she knew – without a doubt – that he'd let her win that game. Considering how well he'd played up to that last shot, he hadn't been half-assed until it came down to her winning or him winning.

Killian met her gaze, not looking the least bit disappointed about his loss. "I suppose I'll need to pay up… hmm?"

Emma laughed with a roll of her eyes, "You really want me to spank you Killian?" She moved to stand in front of him, putting very little space in between the two of them.

"Well, I'd settle for handcuffs if you had them… sounds like something your job might require."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "Where exactly would I put handcuffs in this dress?" She gestured downwards, motioning to the skin tight nature of the red dress she was wearing.

He pursed his lips, eyeing her thoughtfully, "Oh, I'm sure there's ways to conceal them quite nicely." His voice was a little lower than before, coming out in a gruff tone that had heat blossoming low in her stomach.

Part of her was screaming at her to retreat as fast as possible, but the louder part of her was demanding that she take what she wanted. And that part won out. "Where are you staying Mr. Jones?"

"In an absolute rat trap. Why Swan?" Killian stepped an inch closer to her, effectively having her pressed between the pool table and him.

She wasn't keen on the idea of having sex with him in some dive. She'd been there, done that, and would rather never go back. But she didn't take guys back to her place. That way they couldn't come back and find her. If they had sex at his place, then it was on her terms if she wanted to seek him out (and she never did).

Emma brought both of her hands up to rest on his chest, completely unphased by the height difference that should have made her feel tiny in comparison. "That's unfortunate." She whispered, her fingers playing with the line of buttons that led downwards. "See, I don't take guys back to my place."

"That is very unfortunate." Killian rasped out, his hands coming to rest at her hips. "Because I think both of us want to unwind tonight." His thumbs traced the line of her hipbones, making her shudder beneath his touch.

"There's always the bathroom." She offered, her brows wiggling suggestively.

He made a face. "Not the ideal place for what I want to do to you, lass."

Emma's eyes widened, "Should I be afraid?"

"Depends." Killian said matter-of-factly. "Are you afraid of getting beard burns on your thighs?" Her lashes fluttered and she inhaled sharply, "I'm going to take that as not afraid."

Unfamiliar with the notion, yes – she always ended up with guys who were just in it for a fuck, much like herself. But, clearly, she hadn't been wrong to assume that this one was going to be stellar with his mouth. "They have big single stall bathrooms here." She breathed out shakily. "It could be arranged."

"Really?"

Emma laughed, catching her trembling lip between her teeth for a moment before she spoke, "It is pretty busy in here tonight, who knows what's on that bathroom floor." He'd have to kneel after all, if he really was a man of his word. "You can come back to my place, so long as you promise not to try to find me after tonight."

"I'm only in town two more nights after tonight, you wouldn't have to worry about that." Killian told her, his hands sliding up higher, coming to rest at her waist. "I think you and I both need this tonight."

"I think so too." Emma replied, leaning up on her toes – her lips almost brushing against his, before she slipped out of between him and the pool table. "Come on, let's go." She had a feeling that if she'd kissed him, they wouldn't have made it out of the bar.

"We should probably stop somewhere on the way to your place." Killian commented as he caught up to her, keeping in stride with her as they walked towards her yellow bug.

"Why?"

Killian rubbed at the back of his neck, "I don't have any condoms on me."

Emma's brows furrowed together, "So you didn't actually come to the bar tonight to hook-up?"

"No," He replied as he moved around to the other side of the bug, waiting for her to get in and unlock the car for her. "While I am a fan of one night stands, I wasn't planning for any this weekend."

"Don't worry, I'm on birth control and I have condoms at my place." Emma informed him, acutely aware of how full her little car felt with him in the passenger seat. The bar had been too crowded for her to pick up his own distinct scent, but he smelt like old leather and spice and it filled the whole car.

"A woman who's prepared, I like it." Killian pulled his seat belt on, looking over at her as she did the same.

Emma gave him a sidelong look, "Oh, I'm very careful about making sure nothing happens." She had been, ever since she got out of jail, unwilling to have that happen again. "Don't you worry."

Killian laughed a little awkwardly as she started up the car and merged into traffic. "So, how long have you lived in Boston?"

Emma relented to her 'I don't talk about my personal life' motto, which she felt didn't really apply to tonight at all. Because he wasn't like the other guys she'd sought out in bars and at parties. He was different – a good different.

"Hang on," She stated, tapping her finger against the keyboard as she tried to work out how long it had been, "I moved here from Tallahassee when I was nineteen… so I guess eight or nine years?" Emma had done her best with blocking out most of that time period, for her own mental health, letting the details slip between the cracks. But she'd traveled a lot, in between then and now, not staying in one apartment for too long, bouncing back and forth between a new city and Boston.

"So, I'm guessing you like it here?"

"It's nice." She shrugged. "I liked New York, but it was too fucking expensive to live there. Boston has that big city feel to it, without being too pricey."

"By big city feel, do you mean the feeling of just being another face in the crowd?"

"Exactly." Emma retorted, giving him another look, her brows shooting upwards. "Are you a mind reader or something?"

"I joined the Navy so I'd move around, never stay any place too long, blend into the fold. Just another sailor in dress whites." He sighed, scratching at the back of his head. "Once you're used to being alone, that's just what you want."

Emma nodded her head in agreement as she brought the car to a stop at a red light. "Being alone means not having to depend on someone else and not having them depend on you." She had friends, sure, but they didn't depend on her like someone else would.

She could see him turn and look at her as she started to drive again, catching a glimpse of him from the corner of her eyes. She chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit that typically didn't flare up in situations like this. They'd gone and passed the casual acquaintance level, the moment he started asking questions and divulging parts of himself. And not kissing him back at the bar, only added to the anticipation of it all.

Mary Margaret and Ruby would be cheering her on right now, but that little voice of doubt in the back of her head, the one that sounded distinctly like the man that had screwed her up so badly, kept reminding her that she didn't get close to people because she'd only get left alone.

"So why did you join the Navy?" Emma questioned, trying to fill the void of silence.

"I joined with my brother when I was fresh out of high school. He had just made the rank of Captain and he swore to me that this was the place for me. Otherwise, he feared that I'd end up like our deadbeat dad." He paused and Emma wondered if she should change the subject. She stopped at another light, glancing in his direction as he rooted around in his wallet.

"What's that?" Emma questioned, catching sight of purple before she had to drive again.

"My brother Liam's purple heart."

Emma knew enough about the military to know what that meant. "I'm sorry for your loss Killian."

"He died about a year after I joined – I was still in the Academy." The hint of sadness in his voice threw her for a loop. Because she cared. He wasn't a nameless conquest, there were strings attached now. "That's when I decided that the Navy was definitely for me, because I no longer had a family and I was free to go wherever I got assigned."

Without thinking Emma reached over and squeezed his hand. "At least you kept moving and didn't let the loss be an end for you." Emma was the same type of person, she didn't let losses define her, she used them to propel herself forward – sometimes for the best, sometimes for the worst.

Killian stroked his thumb over the back of her hand and she was hyperaware of how intimate a touch like that was. But she didn't pull away, not yet at least. He would be gone in a few days, maybe never to even return to Boston. He was the sort of person that she could unload a few loads of luggage with and not have to deal with the consequences.

"We're almost to my place." Emma commented quietly, glancing in his direction briefly before turning her attention to the road. Her hand was still in his, her own fingers lightly brushing over his hand. She should have kissed him back in the bar. Should have kept that heat and intensity between them, the lust. But instead she slipped past him, led him to her car, and now there was something far more tender happening between them.

He was a bit overwhelming, like drowning, and she wasn't even sure if he realized that about himself. Maybe it was just her. Maybe no one else felt the way that he just filled a space. She had seen the sea in his eyes when they'd first met his, saw a look there that held unfamiliar hope in it. He had to have some serious flaw about him. No one got to look that hot and have nothing wrong with them. She wasn't that lucky.

"Bloody hell. Is that your apartment complex?" Killian questioned, his eyes fixed on the warehouse that had been converted into apartments.

Emma shrugged, "It's a place to live. I mean, it's nice and surprisingly not that expensive. I live in one that has three rooms and not much to talk about."

"Does it at least have a nice view?"

"You can see the water from up there." Emma told him as she got out of the car. "I've moved around so much that it's just nice to have somewhere to rest my head."

Killian moved around the car to stand next to her, his head canted to the side. "I'd imagine that that bug isn't a comfortable place to sleep." He commented, completely oblivious to just how true that comment was.

And she wasn't divulging.

"I wouldn't know." Emma said quickly, before heading towards the apartment building. Where she was good at reading lies, he was apparently a little too good at reading her. And it made her wonder – was she that apparent? Did she give off something that told people that she was a lost girl, that she had no home, no family, and a history that would put Lifetime movies to shame? Or was he just too perceptive for his own good.

They took the elevator up to her place, eight floors of silence and awkward wayward glances towards each other. This was why she didn't delve into her personal life or take guys back to her apartment – because that's how situations get awkward. They knew enough about each other that this wasn't a casual, anonymous fuck.

Emma kicked off her shoes and hung her coat up on the coat rack as they stepped into her apartment. She watched as she strode down the short all, into her open plan kitchen and living room. "That's a killer view. You can see the ships from up here."

"I'm pretty fond of it myself" Emma commented as she followed him into the living room, her hands firmly planted at her hips. "I'm, um… going to run to the bathroom and freshen up…"

Killian's brows shot upwards, nodding his head as he turned back to look at her, "Right. Don't forget the condoms." He quipped, flashing her a charming grin that made her heart flutter.

She escaped to the bathroom, thankful for the moment's reprieve from him. She leaned against the bathroom door, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. She was well and truly screwed with this one. He was too much like her girlish dreams of handsome, charming, good guys that seemed like only fairytale book characters.

Emma fumbled in the drawer for the pack of condoms she had stored in a Band-Aid box, labeled "Emergency Kit". You never knew when you'd need a bandage or a condom or two Tylenol. She checked her reflection in the mirror again, giving herself a little mental pep-talk, before she headed back out into the living room.

"I've returned with the goods." She announced as she headed back into the living room, eyeing the dark haired man who had made himself quite at home on her sofa. Emma held up the condoms, one brow cocking upwards as she met his eyes.

"I feel like an idiot for not having had my own." Killian commented, moving his legs to make room for her on the sofa. "But, this wasn't exactly planned for."

Emma gave him a look as she flopped down on the sofa beside him, stretching out to rest her feet on the coffee table in front of them. "Should I feel honored or something?" She questioned, turning her head to look at him.

Killian gave her a look, "Weren't you just there for your job?"

"Doesn't mean that something couldn't have happened afterwards." Emma insisted, chewing on her bottom lip as she looked away from him. "Sometimes the itch needs to be scratched."

"You're preaching to the choir there, love." He agreed, letting his hand rest on the top of her leg, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I get that the whole share-and-care thing isn't really your thing. I'd like to apologize if that made you uncomfortable."

Emma sighed heavily, covering his hand with hers. "It's fine, seriously. You don't need to feel sorry because of my problems. I'm actually surprised you're still here. If you can read me as well as you act like you can, I would have left while I was in the bathroom."

Killian's head tilted to the side, searching her eyes for a long moment before he finally spoke. "I get that you're afraid to talk, to open up… I get it, I really do, because I'm not really one to get close to people either. But trust me, sometimes it's good to open up."

"So, what?" Her brows furrowed together as she turned to look at him, meeting his eyes. "You want to just sit here and have a heart-to-heart, get it all out of our systems and… part ways in the morning?"

"I've got till Monday, technically, depending on how many bags we have to unload."

"It's a holiday weekend, I have plans…" Emma trailed off as she cast her gaze down, not wanting to meet his gaze. "I don't have plans actually. My friends all have someone and they're off visiting family and going to cookouts and stuff."

"See." Killian squeezed her leg again. "This might be exactly what both of us needed. Maybe we met for a reason."

Emma rolled her eyes with a laugh, "You sound like my friend Mary Margaret, she's always blissfully optimistic."

"So, Emma Swan, have you ever been in love before?"

Her eyes widened as she turned to look at him, "You just dive right in don't you?" He was pushy, in the good way, in the way that she needed whether she wanted to admit it or not. "No, I have never been in love before." She lied, looking away. It wasn't a complete lie. She had a hard time remembering what she loved about Neal and whether or not she'd just been young and desperate to cling to something that felt permanent in her life.

"Interesting." Killian hummed, fiddling with the button of his sleeve, pulling it back to reveal a tattoo on his wrist.

"Who was Milah?" Emma questioned, noting the name that was written on the knife pierced heart.

"A couple months after Liam's death, I was stationed in Annapolis. I got involved with a married woman. In hindsight I think we were both using each other, but at the time I thought it was serious. But, her husband found out and…" He glanced towards Emma, meeting her eyes for a brief moment before looking back down at the tattoo. "The jury found him not guilty and her death was filed away as a "tragic accident". Which was bullshit."

"Jesus Christ." Emma muttered, tracing her fingers over the outline of the heart. "I'm sorry."

Killian let out a heavy sigh, "I figured you might be like me in that regard. Had someone you loved, had them leave your life, and made you hard and disinterested in the emotional connection that sometimes comes along with sex."

"Maybe." Emma whispered, ducking her head. "I don't really want to talk about it Killian."

"Perfectly understandable." Killian brushed his fingers over her cheek gently, tucking her hair behind her ear. "We don't have to talk about it then."

She had always been better with the physical communication opposed to verbal. Emma turned to look at him, her hands coming up to grip the front of his shirt, kissing him like she should have back at the bar, before things got complicated.

Part of her had expected that he would be a dud when it came to kissing, despite his kissable lips and clear-cut oral fixation – because something had to give. But his only flaw seemed to be his tragic past and penchant for reading her.

Emma wasted no time in moving to straddle him, her knees pressing into the sofa at either side of his hips. Her fingers wound through his hair, fingernails scraping over his scalp as she deepened the kiss. Their lips parted, tongues tangling. It wasn't the fumble in the bathroom like they could have had or even the quick fuck that could have been arranged at the dive motel he was staying at. They knew enough about one another, about the rough pasts they'd led, to give a little more to this. A more that she wasn't used to.

His hands were warm and strong as they slipped beneath the hem of her dress, pushing the material further up her thighs, taking his time to explore her bare skin. One hand fell from his hair, tugging at the buttons of his shirt, wanting the layers separating them to be gone now.

Emma rocked her hips, grinding down against him, feeling his hardening cock straining against his jeans. She let out a breathy groan against his lips, the rough material of his jeans, causing delicious friction against her clit, separated only by the thin material of her underwear.

"Emma." Killian breathed out raggedly, reaching around behind her to unzip her dress, pushing the straps down her shoulders. She shifted, helping to get them down, the motion giving the tiniest bit of friction, making them inhale sharply.

Emma worked the last of the buttons loose, pushing the fabric down his shoulders, her fingers trailing through the curly dark hair covering his chest. "You still have too many clothes on."

"And we should move to your bedroom."

She arched a brow, meeting his impossibly blue eyes. "What? So you can have me on my back?" Emma traced her finger along his collarbone.

"Well, I'm rather partial to taking charge, but…" His eyes raked over her, "You're rather sexy like this." He leaned up and stole a kiss, nearly taking her breath away with the need she found there in the gesture. His fingers were winding through her hair, holding her steady as he slanted his mouth over hers.

She used his shoulders as leverage to push herself up on her knees when he slipped his free hand down between them, jerking his zipper down and working the button open.

Killian broke the kiss, his breathing coming out ragged. "God you're wet." He breathed out, turning his hand over so his fingers could brush over her cloth covered folds. Her underwear were soaked with her want and his every touch mad her slicker with need.

"That's because I want to fuck you." Emma hissed out as he pushed her underwear aside, his bare fingertips ghosting over her aching flesh. She shifted, rocking into his touch, wanting more of whatever he was willing to dole out.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, her head falling back with a breathy moan of his name as he pressed a single digit into her, curling it just right – like he knew exactly where to touch her. His thumb pressed against her clit, still partially covered by the cotton of her underwear.

"Killian." Emma's eyes fell closed, her lips parting with a soundless moan. She wasn't used to this sort of doting. She was used to her own two hands, taking up for the slack for whatever she didn't get from a guy. But this was not something she was used to at all.

"That's it, lass." He rasped out, his voice low and rough, the want clearly evident in the way he spoke. "That's it, Emma, fuck yourself on my fingers, just like that." He pressed a second finger into her, curving it just right to meet that sensitive spot within her, working her towards release as she ground down into his touch.

Her nails bit into his skin, leaving angry red crescent marks in their wake. She cried out, completely unprepared for her release that washed over her in mind numbing waves of pleasure. If that was what he could do with his fingers, she could only imagine what she could do with his cock.

"Fuck." Emma muttered as she cracked an eye to look at her, met with a cocky proud-of-himself grin. "Shut up." She told him as she leaned over and grabbed the pack of condoms. She was well past done with waiting – she wanted him. His fingers had been little marvels, but she wanted to feel that cock of his that was straining beneath his boxers.

Killian cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her taut nipples, teasing them as he watched her tug his boxers down, freeing him from the confines of the material. His head fell back against the sofa the moment her fingers curled around his shaft, stroking him slowly before she rolled the condom onto him.

Her name slipped past his lips in the form of a low groan as she sank down onto him. Emma kissed him again, silencing her own sounds against his lips. His hands dropped to her hips, holding her steady as they found a rhythm together. Killian was so intent in making sure she was getting something out of this. One hand cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, while the other teased her sensitive flesh, just above where they were joined.

Emma pressed her forehead against his, trying in vain to catch her breath as her second release crashed over her, his fingers unrelenting in pushing her straight through the release. He cried out a strangled utterance of her name as his own release hit. Just as he had coaxed her through her releases, she rode him until she'd milked every last drop of pleasure from him.

She wasn't one for basking, she didn't do the whole post-coital cuddling, and staying close to the other person. But he was apparently the exception to all of her rules. Because she was too damn sated to care about the way she slumped against him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, comfortable enough against him to doze off for a few blissful moments.

"You're neck's going to cramp, laying that way."

"I'm comfortable." Emma lamented. She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "Were you serious about the whole weekend thing?" She asked him. Now, in her opinion, was the best time to ask him – she could claim they were just sex-addled, that his answer or her agreement meant nothing.

"If you want me to stay around, I'm not going to say no." Killian drawled out, his voice just that much thicker now. "We can spend the weekend, just enjoying all of this like… well, like those friends of yours that you mentioned."

Emma pulled back a little more, searching his gaze curiously. "Are you proposing that we spend this weekend like a fake couple?"

Killian flashed her that charming grin that did things to her. "We're scratching the itch."

It was a lot to agree to and a lot to accept that she actually wanted it. Her last "real" relationship had been Neal and considering how terrible that had gone, she had never wanted to enter into a relationship ever again. But right now, this offer for something real, yet fake, was the most appealing thing she'd been offered in a very long time.

"It sounds like a plan to me." Emma said with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "A no strings attached, three day relationship, with none of the messy emotional parts of it." She saw the way his own smile faltered at her words and her heart lurched.

"Exactly." Killian affirmed, leaning in to kiss her. "Which way is your bedroom?" He questioned, glancing around the apartment then.

"Down that hallway." Emma told him, nodding towards the hallway she'd gone down to go to the bathroom. She unwound their tangled limbs, slipping off his lap and pushing her unneeded dress off the rest of the way.

"I'm going to clean up and meet you in there." Killian drawled out, pushing his fingers through his hair before he rose to his feet, gesturing south with a pointed look.

"Take care of whatever you have to big boy." Emma said pointedly, a devious little smirk twisting at the corners of her lips before she headed off towards the bedroom, letting her hips sway seductively as she left.

She'd never done this sort of thing before and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't nervous about the whole situation. Sure, he'd be gone by Monday and her life would go back to normal, her job would remain the same, her rules, her walls – but, she had the distinct feeling that everything would change after him. He had managed to crack through some pretty hefty walls in an evening.

Emma sprawled out on her bed, like she always did, taking up the entire width of the full sized bed. He would probably realize soon enough that she didn't share well, she never had and she probably never would. It was part of who she was and the upbringing she'd had. Foster kids never had anything of their own and when they did get something, they held onto it and refused to share it with anyone else. Her bed was one of those things, even now.

She rolled over onto her side when the door to her bedroom opened and Killian entered. He'd put his boxers back on, but aside from that, he was still very bare and she wasn't going to complain about the view.

"You didn't fall asleep, did you?" He questioned quietly as he approached the bed.

Emma scooted over to the edge of the bed, patting the empty space. "Nope, I was just laying here thinking." She told him, propping herself up against the headboard, her arms crossed across her bare chest. "Not sure if I'll sleep much tonight." Emma confessed, swallowing thickly.

Killian's brows creased as he slipped beneath the sheets, turning to look at her, his eyes searching hers. "I don't have to stay, love. If you want me to go, I'll go."

Emma laughed a little breathlessly, "It's too late now, you know too much." She flashed him a hesitant smile, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Oh, are you going to chain me up here and keep me here forever or something?" Killian laughed, shaking his head as he shifted closer to her.

Emma shrugged her shoulders, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she leaned close to him, her lips hovering a few inches from his lips. "Maybe I'm into it."

"You do have cuffs don't you?" Killian quipped out, tracing his fingers lightly over her cheek, leaning in even closer, his nose bumping into hers. "I might go to sleep here and wake up cuffed to the bed or something."

Emma smirked, "You're giving me fantastic ideas. Maybe I should do just that and ride you till I break you this weekend." She was spurring him on, wanting him to take the next action. As much as she loved being the sexually aggressive one, she wanted to see what he was capable of.

Killian brushed his lips over hers, his hot breath dancing over her lips as he tilted his head and kissed her hard enough to steal her breath. Desire shot through her like a white hot lance. He was a hell of a kisser and that just wasn't fair.

Typically, at this point, she was already thoroughly satisfied, but tonight – with him – she wanted more. She ached to have him again, to feel the way that he had made her feel. Emma arched closer to him, her leg hitching over his hip, wanting him closer.

He rolled them over, pressing her into the mattress beneath him, his weight pinning her down against the bed. Killian broke from the kiss, his lips dragging along her jawline, trailing down her throat. His tongue lavished her pulse point, making her mewl and groan and make sounds she didn't make for others.

She expected to feel him reach for the condoms that were on the nightstand, but instead he continued kissing every patch of skin he could find. The scratch of his stubbly chin against her stomach made that low coil of desire even more present. Her hips rocked up off the bed of their own volition, her fingers tangling through his thick hair, tugging at the strands as they slipped through her fingers.

Emma's eyes screwed shut, her lips parting with a loud cry of surprise and pleasure all wound together as his lips found their way between her thighs. His tongue swept between her folds, teasing her clit, teasing and taunting and pulling sounds from her that she didn't even know she was capable of.

"Oh my God." She gripped the bed sheets at her side, her other hand tugging at his hair as he wrecked her completely with a mouth that should have been illegal in all fifty states and surrounding territories.

This was new for her. She hadn't been with a single lover that was willing and ready to go down on her. She'd given her fair share of head, during a period in her life when she wanted to forget everything and just get lost in being wild after prison. But the action had never been given in return.

"Killian." Emma panted out, feeling that clenching in her stomach, her muscles trembling, her back bowing up off the bed. His fingers joined his mouth. He twisted two fingers in and out of her, curling them just right, as his tongue assaulted her clit – pushing her right over the edge.

"God you're gorgeous." Killian breathed out, grinning up at her as she tilted her head to look down at him. He ran his hands along her inner thighs, making a show of licking his lips.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Emma muttered, letting her head fall back against the pillows, trying to desperately to catch her breath. "You're not real."

"Oh, I'm very real." Killian clicked his tongue against his teeth as he moved back up to lay beside her, casually curling his arm around her middle, pulling her in close to him. "I'm guessing that you're not used to that sort of treatment."

"You'd be guessing right." Emma retorted, covering her face with her arm. "There's a first time for everything."

"And you never forget our first." She could hear the smirk in his voice, her stomach muscles trembling beneath the hypnotic touch of his fingers, as he drew circles on her skin. Emma turned to face him, finding him grinning at her with that cocky, smug, look that she'd found that she quite liked.

"Here I was thinking that I'd wear you down this weekend and it turns out you're the one trying to kill me." Emma gave him a pointed look. "You always treat your bed partners that well?"

"Well, I am very deadest in making certain my lady is pleased, but… you're getting very special treatment." Killian grinned at her, a smile that was less cocky now and more sincere. The sort of lopsided happy smile that made her stomach flip-flop and her heart pound faster in her chest.

"And why do I get such special treatment?" Emma questioned him, her brows furrowing together as she met those gorgeous blue eyes of his. "I'm just me. I don't warrant special treatment." She admitted, which was a very honest admittance. She'd never had anyone go above and beyond of her in any other aspect of her life, so why should she expect it to happen in the bedroom?

Killian rolled his eyes, "If I didn't think there was something special about you, I wouldn't be going to such lengths to make sure you have a hell of a weekend." He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, letting silence fall between them for a few long moments, before he spoke again. "I can't really explain why I want to do this for, why I feel so bloody compelled to give both of us a long overdue weekend of fun, but… as soon as I saw you in the bar I knew… something."

Emma swallowed thickly, feeling a little bit like she was drowning beneath the weight of his words. "I can't exactly say that I didn't feel something too. I mean I don't bring people back to my place, I don't… do this." She gestured between them, "I guess I can give in to something for a weekend, you know. This isn't all that different from a one night stand. It's a weekend of fun and then we both get to go our separate ways." She felt like she had to keep driving that point home. That, despite whatever that something might be for the two of them, this was just sex, it was just unwinding – scratching an itch that was long overdue.

"After this weekend our paths won't ever cross again." Killian's lips pressed into a thin line, his voice no longer carrying that quality that she could read.

"Right."

They laid in silence, their fingers finding little spots of skin to idly stroke, tender little touches that lulled them into the quietness. It was different, to unwind in someone's arms. To feel the tug of exhaustion as you sank to sleep. The last person she'd slept with like this had been Neal, when she was too young and too naïve to even understand what she was getting herself into. She had slept in arms that weren't strong enough to hold her, rested her cheek on the chest of a man who's heart didn't beat for her, the way hers had beat for him.

Those memories, the pain and the heartache of deceit, were what kept her from falling for anyone else. She'd had men in her life, in no short supply, but they were always unattainable or train wrecks for a purpose. She could blame their wife, their addictions, their flaws, and their downfalls as why she couldn't be with them. One night stands were as far as she ever went, with good reason. She had her rules, the ones she'd so strictly adhered to. No matter how wonderful a guy seemed, so could always find a flaw, an excuse.

But Killian was different. The good kind of different. He was charming and sweet and too gorgeous to be real. He didn't wear his flaws on his sleeve, not supplying her with an excuse to be wary of him. Except he would be gone in a few days, which wasn't a flaw necessarily – it was a blessing. She could use that as a reason to not get too close. He would be her dirty little secret.

Her friends would never know, because if they did she was fairly certain both Mary Margaret and Ruby would tell her she was an idiot for letting him slip away from her. But he had a job and maybe he did have a life that he wasn't telling her about, but she'd seen it in his eyes, his wayward, homeless, familyless story wasn't a lie to her.

She was so comfortable in his arms, she felt safe and protected, and cared about for the time being. It was nice to feel that way, to feel warm instead of cold, open instead of guarded. This weekend wasn't real. They were taking a holiday away from reality, to just enjoy something good without anything coming from it.

If it wasn't real, then she couldn't be wrong about him. She wouldn't have the weight of caring about him once Monday was through. They would go their separate ways and life would start again. Her friends would come home from their trips out of the city, they would fill up her life with stories about their cook-outs and how so-and-so's great uncle was doing with his treatment or how a cousin was managing after graduation. She'd cling to those family stories and pretend that she cared, about as much as they probably really cared too. Her job would pick-up again and she'd catch a few more assholes, before a round of drinks with her friends on Friday night. Maybe they'd see a movie or some poorly directed cheap play at the black box theatre.

Life would continue.

They just needed each other for a few meaningless nights that would probably end up meaning more than either of them expected.