You're driftin' in and out of my dreams,
am I driftin' in and out of yours?
Why do we come stranded on your shore,
frozen at your door?

Even before his time in Wonderland had… damaged his psyche, Jefferson knew he'd had a tendency toward obsession. 28 years trapped alone in a house in a strange world had only honed that natural skill. His life consisted of watching others from afar, berating himself for ever leaving Grace in the first place and the more than occasional bouts of manic hat making.

Then Emma Swan had come to town and things had changed. He had been certain she could make a hat work, that she could open a portal home….

Okay, the whole hostage thing hadn't been well thought out, but honestly, he hadn't meant any harm. He was, admittedly, out of practice when it came to normal, human interaction.

Perhaps the slight concussion he received when he'd been kicked out the window (thank goodness for conveniently placed bushes) had shaken something loose in his head (or back into place), but he hadn't been able to get Emma out of his mind. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help but think about her…and the dreams….

Oh, the dreams.

When his dear Alice had died, he'd closed himself off to even considering becoming intimate with another woman, instead choosing to devote himself to being the best father he could be. In 38 years, there hadn't been a woman who truly sparked his interest, not until Emma Swan, glowing with magic and so much more.

Every time he closed his eyes to rest his racing mind, he saw her, dreamt of being with her and woke with the phantom taste of her on his lips, the remembered scent of her on his skin.

What made things worse was the fact that he knew the odd connection he felt her wasn't simply the product of his imagination. From the moment they'd met, there had been a spark. He could tell she'd felt it as well. Though, in the end, she'd whacked him upside the head with his telescope, she had meant much of what she'd said when they were discussing their children.

She understood…at least part of what drove him.

And he'd seen the look in her eyes when his cravat had been ripped loose, when she'd seen the ugly scar on his throat.

For one brief, shining moment, she had believed him.

Of course she immediately rationalized everything and backtracked into the more familiar land of denial, but the moment of belief had occurred.

There was hope.

Weeks of dreams had him practically climbing the walls and, finally, he decided he had to do something drastic. He had to venture into town to see Emma.

As he had told Emma, having knowledge of both worlds was painful. He failed to expand on the fact that he actually had to fight to remain in control; fight to push back the personality Regina's spell had created for him.

In this world, he was supposed to be a psychological/emotional wreck, antisocial, Agoraphobic and schizophrenic. No family, no friends, no contact with others. Mind numbing medication was delivered to his door weekly with bags of groceries, so nothing interfered with his isolation.

Even though, since Emma's arrival, he could leave the house, to do so he had to fight against the fabricated voices in his head that protested even the thought. Walking through the woods to the empty road had been bad enough, but going into town….

It took him several days to work up the internal resolve, but eventually he managed and took the long walk into town. He wished he had a horse (or even a car, though he had only the vaguest idea of how to drive one), as it was quite a hike. The further he got the house, the quieter the voice in his head became and the clearer his own thoughts were.

Perhaps the other personality had simply become catatonic due to the shock of the trip.

Whatever the reason, it was a great relief to be alone in his own head.

Since it was the middle of the day, most people were at work and he only saw a few people as he wandered further into town. On Main Street, he saw Red sweeping the sidewalk in front of Granny's diner. She gave him a curious smile and waved, but that was the closest he came to direct interaction until he stepped into the Storybrooke Sheriff's office.

Emma was sitting at her desk, doing paperwork, and looked up as he entered. Surprise registered on her face…surprise and something else he couldn't quite place. "What are you doing here?"

Closing the door behind himself, Jefferson was careful to keep his distance, knowing she'd be wary. Leaning back against the wall, he regarded her evenly. "I'm here to see you."

"Since I'm the only one here, I figured as much," she replied, eyes locked on him. "How did you survive the fall?"

That wasn't the question he expected, but it was easy enough to answer. "I landed in a bush."

Emma blinked. "A bush?"

"A bush." He shrugged slightly and gave her a rueful grin.

A snort escaped Emma and she said, "Okay, so why are you coming to see me now? I can't make your hat work."

"Maybe you can, maybe you can't," he said, venturing a few steps further into the office. "But I'm here because…I had to come, had see you again."

She swallowed, teeth worrying her lower lip. He was glad to see that she didn't seem afraid, just curious and softened his expression to a more natural smile.

"I was thinking about coming up to check your house," Emma admitted. "I have some questions."

"If I have answers, I'll give them freely," he said, then tipped his head slightly to one side. "I also give my apology for my behavior during our lasting counter. It was quite unseemly. It was never my intent to harm anyone…I fear my social skills have atrophied from neglect."

Emma blinked again, giving him a look he recalled from that night. He confused her, but she was intrigued. "You want to apologize?"

He nodded earnestly.

"Buy me lunch."

That was how the two of them wound up sitting across from each other at Granny's diner. Red gave Emma a big grin when she took their orders (meatloaf sandwich for Emma, lamb stew for him) and was none too subtle offering the Sheriff a thumbs-up.

As they ate, they discussed random things, keeping the conversation light and, when dessert was served, Emma finally had enough.

"So…why did you have to see me again?"

He was fully aware that admitting to obsessing over her would, more than likely, only reinforce her opinion that he was a bad, crazy man, but he couldn't keep from saying, "I can't get you out of my mind…or my dreams."

Damn it.

He hadn't meant to mention the dreams.

"Dreams?" she replied, voice higher than usual and chees flushing an attractive shade of red. "You've dreamt about me. What kind of dreams?"

He knew his skin, fair as it was after nearly three decades indoors, blushed just as easily. Glancing down at the ripe berries that covered his dessert, he murmured, "Sorry. Didn't mean to say that. Not the sort of thing one talks about in front of a lady."

Wanting something to do other than speak, he grabbed a strawberry and quickly raised it to his mouth, biting down and savoring the flow of sweet juices on his tongue. He was surprised to see Emma's eyes track the movement and she made an odd little sound when he licked a stray bit of pulp from his lower lip.

"A lady," she mused, fingers curling around her napkin, scraping a nail along the stitching. "A lady probably wouldn't admit to having those sorts of dreams herself."

Jefferson had no idea how to respond to that and his mouth dropped open slightly in surprise. Emma just stared at him for a long moment before nodding as though she'd come to a decision. She rose, shaking him out of his stupor. "What are you…?"

She held up a hand to stop him and simply said, "Come with me."

Unsure of what was going to happen, he never the less followed her. From his observations, he recognized her apartment building easily, but was slightly confused as to why she was…Oh.

It had been a long time, but some old memory surfaced and allowed him to identify the look in her eyes. His nerves jumped and he fought back the surge of fear that was attempting to overcome the hopeful anticipation.

Emma was a woman on a mission and, the moment she locked the door behind them, she turned and stepped into his space, meeting his gaze directly. "Let's make something clear right now," she said and he took a quick breath when she laid a palm flat against his chest, "Clearly, there's…something between us. Something we need to get out of our systems. That's what this is."

He barely had the chance to nod before she placed a hand on his jaw and leaned in, pressing her lips to his. The initial pressure was soft, but she quickly attempted to deepen the kiss and he shied away, not wanting to go too fast too soon. Undeterred, Emma's lips moved against his, soft and warm, kisses growing longer.

Even the gentle contact sent a zing of energy through his entire body and he knew she had to be able to feel him, already hard, through the layers of their clothes. He pulled her closer still and she rocked her hips against his, igniting sparks behind his eyes and he felt himself beginning to tremble.

His lips opened involuntarily at the touch of her tongue and he moaned at the taste of her, even better than he had imagined. Sweetness, cinnamon and magic mixed with something uniquely Emma. As their tongues dueled, it was Emma's turn to moan, a soft, happy sound that made something inside him snap.

Reaching down, Jefferson grasped her thighs and easily lifted her. Emma needed no encouragement to wrap her legs around his hips as he stumbled toward the doors he assumed were bedrooms. Making a judgment call, he stepped into the slightly unkempt room. Sunlight spilled in through buttery yellow curtains, making the room look warm and inviting.

With a grin, he dropped her lightly onto the flowered bed spread, causing her to let out a huff of surprise. For a moment, he looked down at her, all tousled blond hair and kiss swollen lips, just drinking in the sight. Part of him wanted to savor the moment, draw things out, but he was afraid she'd come to her senses at any moment and throw him out.

After all, she thought he was insane.

Jefferson slipped onto the bed beside her and started kissing her again. His body seemed to throb with need and he pushed her back against the comforter, hands skating over her body. Emma didn't seem to mind, because she returned the attention. Clothes were rapidly discarded and soon they were stripped down to their underwear, pressed together, moving in a rhythm they didn't even have to think about.

Somehow, she felt right against him, perfect in a way he never thought he'd experience again. The heat of her body encouraged him to move against her with more intent, desperate to be inside her, though he was still hesitant to strip the last barriers from between their bodies.

Emma didn't seem to share his nerves and nipped lightly at his throat before demanding, "Jefferson, fuck me."

He whimpered a bit at her words and he reached down, hooking his fingers around the absurdly delicate fabric of her panties and giving a sharp tug, tearing where they wrapped around her hips. Emma's eyes widened in surprise, but she grinned and scrambled to shove his boxer briefs down.

As intoxicating as their contact had been, the feel of his cock pressed tightly against the velvety skin of her inner thigh was on another level all together and he groaned, panting and letting his brow fall forward to rest against her shoulder. Emma murmured, sounding quite pleased herself, and ran her hands up and down his back, ghosting over scars without comment. When she reached his neck and he felt her run her nails over the livid mark, he snapped his hips forward, aligning himself with her.

Lifting his head, Jefferson looked into Emma's lust darkened eyes as he thrust into her. Intense, electrifying pleasure shot through him and he shuddered, even as Emma grabbed his hair and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Their tongues dueled and he allowed his hands to roam over her body, caressing hot, sweat damp skin, tweaking a pebbled nipple and swallowing the moan that action pulled from her.

Her body twitched and fluttered around him, letting Jefferson know she was as over stimulated as he himself was, but he felt the need to slide a hand to the apex of her thighs, fingers slipping as he located the little bundle of nerves and rolled it in time with his increasingly erratic thrusts.

Emma cried out then and the force of her orgasm pushed him over the edge, the world around them falling out of focus as wave after wave of sensation rolled over and through him. They collapsed in a sweaty, shuddering heap, clinging together as though afraid they'd go to pieces without the contact to keep them grounded.

Eventually, Jefferson shifted slightly to one side, not wanting to pin her to the mattress (Oh, who was he kidding? He did want to pin her there, wanted to make love to Emma Swan for hours and hours, until they were both sated and unable to move, but he didn't want her to feel pinned. There was a difference) and brushed her hair back from her rosy face.

Emma was regarding him with soft eyes, her breathing just beginning to slow, and he appreciated how lovely she looked, flushed and happy, sprawled in the sun lit room.

Deciding to take his chances, he brushed his hands over her shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. It was a gently, feather light contact and he took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She smelled like lust, gun oil and magic, a combination that seemed to trigger something in him because he felt himself growing hard again, despite his recent release.

Clearly, he hadn't gotten her out of his system, which was what Emma had indicated this was about and, from the sounds she was making, she was all for round two.

This time though, he had no intention of rushing. He wanted to savor every moment with her, memorize her kiss, her taste, the feel of her skin under his palms and lips. He wanted to remember the way her voice sounded, breathy and rough as she moaned into his ear.

Memories were good. Sometimes, memories were all you had to get you through.

Leisurely, he kissed a trail from her mouth down to her chin. Emma leaned back and he let himself kiss every inch of her exposed throat, her ears, her shoulders, flicking his tongue over the pale skin. She felt incredible, warm and smooth, and she tasted faintly of honey and salt – the latter a reminder of their earlier exertions, her sweat mixed with his.

Emma wasn't idle, running her hands over his shoulders, then down his chest and abs, which caused his cock jump. He really wanted her to touch him, to wrap her slim hand around him and…well, anything involving that activity was more than nice.

She seemed to have other ideas, running her hands over his thighs, then sliding around and squeezing his ass. He groaned against her skin and caught her by the waist, rolling and sitting up, pulling her into a seat his lap. "Emma," he whispered, voice low and gravelly as he stared into her eyes. "I think I've wanted you since the moment I saw you."

Though she didn't reply verbally, Emma rose up on her knees and pressed against him, causing his head to fall back, bumping the headboard as his eyes slipped shut. She moved up and down, letting him slide against her wet folds without taking him inside and he groaned, gripping her hips, moving eagerly against her.

After several long moments with their harsh breaths echoing in the air, Jefferson leaned forward and placed an open mouthed kiss to her shoulder. She hummed appreciatively and arched her back, thrusting her breasts toward him, but the angle was wrong and she tumbled back to the mattress.

He followed eagerly, brushing a light kiss over the top of her plump breast as she moaned and writhed beneath him.

"Jefferson."

He liked the way she said his name, gasping it like a prayer. Gently, he ran his tongue over the swell of her breast, savoring the feel of warm skin beneath his lips. When he finally drew her nipple into his mouth she made a high-pitched, needy sound and got a firm grip on his hair, anchoring him…not that he minded.

Her breast was soft and warm, but her nipple was a tight little bud trapped between his lips to suckle. That drew a ragged sob from Emma and her hips bucked up toward him, which made him groan when he felt the wet heat of her core pressing against his lower abdomen. Trying to relieve some of the pressure building, Jefferson ground himself against the bed, but the friction was only a temporary fix.

After giving both her breasts equal attention, Jefferson pulled himself back up Emma's shuddering body and kissed her deeply before pressing back into her body. She was so slick, hot and tight and he gasped, trying to bite back a cry of pleasure as she wrapped her legs snugly around his hips, pulling him closer. He threw his head back, reveling in the sensation and she latched lightly onto his throat¸ nibbling along his scar.

"Emma," he choked, the ability to form any other words long lost.

They moved together, hard and confidant, her hips meeting his every thrust. Her increasingly desperate murmurs encouraged him to move even faster and he had to concentrate in order retain any semblance of self-control.

He'd known they had a spark, but this was…indescribable. They fit together as though by some grand design and each had an almost instinctive feel for the others body, what they liked. What they were doing felt so right and he really hoped she would reconsider her stance on getting this out of their systems.

He doubted he'd ever get enough of her.

Rocking together, he was surprised when Emma she arched her head back, crying out as came. Jefferson felt her inner walls clamp down around him and he bit his lip hard, thinking contractions of her muscles would pull him after her.

He continued moving, shallow thrusts that eased her through the aftershocks of her orgasm, but his body seemed not quite ready to follow her example. When she blinked at him with sated, glazed eyes and tugged on his hips, he picked up the pace again, loving the feel of her body contracting around him, almost as though she hadn't finished….

Jefferson lost all ability to form a coherent thought when Emma convulsed under him, coming again and causing a powerful orgasm to tear through him. Together, they rode out the waves of sensation, shuddering and gasping, slumping into a near boneless pile of limbs and twitching flesh. Deciding that it was imperative he not let her go, he held her cradled against his chest as they tried to calm themselves enough to…well, to do anything.

Eventually, he managed to say, "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that I don't think this is going to keep my mind off of you for long."

Emma nodded, her fingers tracing a random pattern on his shoulder. "Can't disagree with you," she murmured sleepily. "We'll just have to keep trying…Feel up to a shower?"

Showering would be a good idea, as they were both quite a mess…Plus, that shower dream had been intriguing….

"Shower, then nap?"

"Sounds like a plan."

They'd figure the rest out later.

I need your arms around me.
I need your scent on my skin.
and I need to know that you'll never let go,
you'll never let go again.
you'll never let go again.

Comments, pretty please?