So, while I'm very excited at the prospect of Dark!Emma, I still can't resist writing fic all about how Killian is her light and yeah… This happened.

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When Love Takes Over

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Killian had been expecting Emma, so he'd left the door to his room at the inn open. What he hadn't been expecting was for her to come running through it, completely drenched, eyes red with tears that he can't pick out from the rain dripping off every inch of her.

"Darling," he starts, but she is on a mission and in front of him in seconds, pulling on the lapels of his jacket and standing on her toes to press her icy lips against his.

He stumbles backwards, butting up against a wall with force as Emma's hands pull his coat down his arms.

He is all for this, all for her eager fingers unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his pants. He is all for kissing and biting his way down her neck until she is incoherent and sated. What he is not okay with is the fact that he can feel the tension in her kisses, that he can taste the anger on her lips.

So, with an enormous show of will, he pulls his head back, just enough that she has to look up at him with questions in her eyes. "Emma, what is it?"

The words die on her lips, eyes welling with tears that she refuses to let fall. Her hand rests against his beating heart and she presses it harder there, trying to find balance and anchor herself to it. Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times, but she can't seem to push the words out.

His forehead rests against hers as they let their breath even out, his lips kissing the tip of her nose and the round of her cheek, collecting rain droplets with each movement. When he lingers a moment, close to the corner of her mouth, she turns her head slightly to meet him and, while he tries to resist her lure, she is a temptation he is powerless to fight against sometimes. He falls into the softness of her lips, the taste of her tongue against his, the feel of her hand sliding up his arm to the back of his neck, pulling him into her and onto her as she falls back on the bed.

He gasps when her hand finds its way between them, pressing against his hardening length, rolling her hips in time with her fingers and letting her knuckles tease herself with each press. It would be so easy to lose themselves, so simple to let this continue. But it's the fact that they haven't before that is making him hesitate.

"Emma," he whispers, lifting himself up on his elbows, "Emma, we need to talk."

She tries to protest, gripping his necklace and pulling him back to her, but he won't take it anymore. He needs to know what is bothering her.

"Swan," he says, stronger this time, "you've got to tell me what's going on. This is hurting both of us."

And she knows it's true. It's some unspoken rule that they're waiting until she has her own place and they can be together in each other's company without the world butting in. They made that decision without a qualm, knowing it would be worth it when the time came.

The fact that she is desperate for him now, that she's willing to let every inhabitant of the inn hear them, is telling of the trauma she's been through. It suggests pain and heartache and a need to forget it all, if only for a moment.

But he has done this before. He has let love confine and blind him, let it become his coping mechanism – rather than confronting his pain and pushing past it, he allowed his love to become tangled in his hate and it brought him centuries of loneliness.

She tries to kiss him again, but he refuses – he doesn't pull away, just won't open up for her until she opens up for him. "Darling," he breathes, "Speak to me."

"Please," she whispers finally, words tickling against his lips, rolling her hips once more and losing her breath for a moment, "Please just tell me something real."

His eyes bore into hers, willing her to see what he hasn't said yet. It may not be the right time for their intimacy, but he can see that she needs to know his greatest secret. It's the thing that he's refused to let himself say for fear of making her run. He can see now that she won't run from him. Only straight to him.

Her hand rests on the side of his face now, keeping his eyes trained on hers. "Please," she begs again and, as always, he is only able to give her what she wishes.

"I love you, Emma."

A shaky sigh escapes her and he realises that she's been holding her breath. The corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile, the relief evident on her face.

And now that it's been said, he finds that he doesn't want to stop. He falls to the side of her, pulling her with him so that they are facing each other on the bed. Her hair is still wet and stringy, her hands cold and damp, and he knows that he needs to get her into dry clothes before she catches a chill, but he needs to say it again, needs her to know, "I think I have loved you since before I knew my blackened heart was capable of love again."

She kisses him then, but it's not charged with the same heat as before. This is slow and passionate and loving, his lips parting for her and then closing once more in a teasing dance. She kisses his cheek and he kisses her eyelid, both sighing in content as he tucks her in closer to the warmth his body is providing, not for a second minding about how wet she is making everything.

It's a while before she speaks but, when she does, he clings to every word. "My parents told me something tonight, something about their past and their decisions." She pulls back just enough that she can look him in the eyes as she speaks to him – she needs to see his reaction to her words. "They did something terrible for the sake of my goodness, destroyed another child's life to ensure I would always choose the path of the hero." It sickens her to think about Maleficent's daughter out there in a world she doesn't know, going through everything that she had, but doomed to a life of darkness because of her parents. Would she ever find her happy ending out there alone? "The truth is, I was born with the potential for great evil and, right now, tonight, I felt tempted towards it."

She's already gripping the collar of his shirt and easily draws him in to press her lips against his once more. It's a different kiss again he feels, subtle and lingering, and when she pulls back she whispers to him, "Thank you for holding onto me, for being my light."

His chest squeezes at her words, the meaning behind them powerful. They have often joked about everyone needing a saviour and she has taken on that role valiantly, but who better to be the saviour's saviour than a pirate with a heart of gold.

He's not sure how to take the bold compliment, not used to being the person that other people rely on. For her though, gods above, he would do anything.

She shivers against him and he can ignore the dampness of her clothing no longer. "We should get you warm," he says, standing up and pulling her to the edge of the bed.

She bites her tongue against the retort sitting there – something about getting warm being her plan tonight before he had decided to be a gentleman – and starts pulling off her wet layers. He hands her a pair of boxers and his old black cotton shirt, turning away as she unabashedly slips out of her wet bra. He swears he should be given a medal for the amount of restraint he's showing.

"You can turn around," she says timidly, stepping into his arms when he does. There's a quiet moment of reprieve, just their hearts beating against each other's chest in the silent room. Then he makes a move towards the bed, pulling her along with him and curling his body around hers as they pull the covers up.

It's just as their eyes are closing and their breathing evening out that Emma realises she had asked so much of him tonight and given nothing in return. And she had wanted to. She has been so badly wanting to for so long.

So, as she switches off the lamp at the bedside, she tugs his arm tighter around her waist and makes a decision to always let the light in her life prevail, to turn away from the darkness which could so easily pull her under. With a smile gracing her features as she slips into sleep, she whispers to the pirate something that she never thought would pass her lips.

"I love you too."

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Thoughts?