Good Form

Perhaps it hadn't been the smartest idea to ask for swordplay lessons from Killian, perhaps she should have just gone to David but she was there now and Emma couldn't quite say she regretted it.

Killian's arms were around hers as he explained a certain defensive stance. She tried desperately to pay attention but all she could seem to focus on was his hot breath on her neck, his fingers dancing along hers, his muscled body pressed against hers and his musky sea salt smell. She exhaled heavily, a small reluctant shudder following.

"Why Emma, are you having trouble concentrating?" he asked cheeky, running his fingers along her waist.

"Less trouble than you're going to have if you keep doing that," she assured him. He dropped a hand to her jeans, brushing his fingers against the cool skin under her waistband, leaving a fiery trail. "Hook," she warned but it ended up sounding like a moan. He chuckled, removing his hand and moving to stand in front of her.

"Drop the sword, love."

"I'd love to see you take it off me," she dared as he pulled closer towards her.

His eyes glinted. "I'd love to take a lot more than just that sword off you," he admitted, his eyes raking over her body, undressing her with his eyes. She raised an eyebrow, allowing him to trail his hook down cleavage. "And I'm sure you'd love it too."

She swallowed, "I wouldn't be too sure." But with her objection came the ripping sound his hook tearing through her shirt. The fabric fluttered, revealing her black bra and toned stomach. Killian licked his lips as she felt wetness pool in her panties.

"That was one of my favourites," she chastised but her voice was uneven.

He was so close that their mouths were only a breath apart. "I'm ever so sorry, my love," he apologised, eyes gaze burning through her. He trailed his hook down her side, watching with fascination as she trembled. "But if you drop that sword, I'll promise it'll be worth your while."

She let the hilt fall from her grasp, the sword clattered to the floor and the ringing sound seemed to shatter the wall between them. His mouth crashed into hers and she fell into the kiss. Hers fingers tangled into his hair as he, removing the rest of her tattered shirt. His hand pressed into the small of her back, his calloused fingers burned on her cool skin. Her mouth opened, allowing their tongues to meet as she let herself be consumed by his rum tinged mouth. Emma clung to him as he hoisted her off her feet before he pushed loose weapons off a table and placed her on it. He planted kisses down her neck, his tongue leaving wet circles on her skin.

Her fingers sought to touch his skin, dragging their way through layers of clothes, tugging off his vest and then his shirt. "Why do you wear so much crap?" she complained against his mouth. He chuckled breathlessly before he (after a moment) undid the clasp of her bra, letting it fall to the ground. With eyes awash with lust his fingers ghosted across the pale skin of her breasts, his thumb playing with her red nipples. Then his mouth was there, his tongue flicking around them until they went stiff, her moans making his trousers grow tight. He placed kisses along her cleavage, working his way back up her mouth as his lips brushed against her jaw. She shuddered in his arms, whimpering as his fingers once again played with her waistband. The hot skin of his muscled chest pressed against her own, leaving every nerve electrified as desire consumed her, allowing her to only think of one thing. Killian.

She undid the lace of his trousers with trembling fingers, every inch of her desperate to have him completely. His hook trailed over her breasts as his mouth moved to suck and nibble on her neck. She moaned his name loudly and as she looked into his eyes she saw something click or rather, crack. As if everything he had been holding back suddenly overtook him, he climbed on top of the table, pinning her underneath him, kissing her with a fierceness she was sure could break her.

She rolled on top of him, her legs falling either side of him as he eagerly undid the button of her jeans, dragging them off her and, without patience, ripping her panties off her. But she had no time to complain, his fingers were trailing up her inner thigh and delving into her wetness. She trembled as he slipped a finger inside her, rocking back and forth on top of him. "Killian," she moaned, begging him to stop teasing her and to finally satisfy her overpowering desire.

His eyes darkened before he flipped her over, his kiss hot on her mouth, tongues dancing together, fingers raking through each other's hair, dragging each other even closer. Her fingers gripped his shoulders as he carefully entered her, filling her whole. She gasped violently as her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him further into her. He begun slow but she had no patience for his chivalry. "Faster," she urged, between her laboured breaths.

He slammed hard against her, her back arched towards him as animalistic noises scratched at her throat. They hips crashed together pushing her hard against the wood of the table. She repeated his name as if it was a prayer to a god. He groaned deep in his throat, swearing vehemently as her nail cut deep into his back. Then his mouth found hers again, his seering kiss throwing dizzy stars across her vision. They kissed in between their gasps, moaning into each others lips until finally-

Fire exploded through her vision and she drowned it. Moaning and arching further, pleasure melting her bones and turning her to liquid under his weight. His thrusts became messier as his orgasm flooded through him. He cursed and swore to the heavens, then swore to her, praising her but all she heard was incoherent gasps and groans.

Then he collapsed upon her and as her world slowly came back into focus. Sweat stuck to her skin, sticking to his own sheen which made him glow like fallen angel. But in the next moment he had pulled away from her, allowing the cool air to encapsulate her as she waited for the familiar sense of regret to sink in. But it never did.

She propped herself up on one elbow, her golden hair falling messily across her bare shoulders, half hiding red marks along her neck. She watched Killian and he smirked when he noticed her inquiring gaze.

"Good form," he admitted, as he threw on his shirt. "But I doubt a few more lessons could hurt."

And this was the moment Emma Swan marked, as the moment she became truly and royally screwed.