#HE JUST FUCKING SITS ON THE BACK PORCH RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW PLAYING THE FLUTE BECAUSE HES SOME FUCKING BAND KID

[eloras-account]

one of my neighbours has a son thats like 12 or 13 and i want him dead bro. i hate middle school boys so much like why tf do they all have the voice of rainbow dash

[swanderful1]

A Cold Awakening: Ch 14/?

Summary:  Modern crime AU. Twenty years have gone by since Storybrooke was shaken to the core by a gruesome crime that went unsolved. Sheriff David Nolan and his partner, daughter Emma are forced to revisit the crime. At the same time, Killian Jones and his older brother Liam have been drawn back to the town they had longed to never see again, struggling to find their own answers. As taunting notes and clues show up they are taken on a journey to finally bring justice for the Jones family. And Emma Nolan finds herself caught in a situation more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.

Notes: Since today is my birthday I decided to update before the festivities later. I realize I didn't post last week so I made this one a bit longer than usual. I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much once again for the continued support and encouragement. It means everything. Feel free to like, comment, message, etc. I love hearing from people. 

Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights to OUAT.

Rated: M

Word Count: ~10,000

Whole story can be read on AO3 or ffnet

Saturday morning Emma awoke slowly. She hadn’t realized how tired she had been until her head hit the pillow after Killian left and she immediately fell into a deep sleep. Killian. Emma felt her body begin to tingle at the thought of her night with him. The whole evening had been rather PG, the food, the game, the talking, had all just been tame. Then why was she still infatuated with it? The mere thought causing her blood to flow faster. The delicate way with which he touched her was no less jarring than a few nights ago when he had fucked her up against a wall.

When she sat up in her bed she looked to the foot of the mattress and saw Killian’s dog Princess resting peacefully. A warm feeling spread through Emma. It was a nice gesture, a kind one. She reached forward to the dog and began to pet her. The dog picked her head up, gave a sleepy look to Emma, and then rested on the mattress again.

“Thank you for keeping me company,” she whispered to the dog before she got up to dress for the day.

By the time Emma had showered, blow dried her hair, and gotten dressed, the dog was waiting patiently by the closed bedroom door.

Ultimately the dog was a nice companion for Emma. She followed at her heels most anywhere she went. After breakfast Emma took the dog for a walk and let her roam around a bit. She was active and liked to play. So after Princess was done running around she decided to walk over to Neal’s to let the dog meet Henry.

Neal’s two bedroom apartment was on the second story of a building on Main Street. He had lived there ever since they had broken up years ago. It was smaller, it was simple, but that was Neal. He didn’t keep much around. Just enough for Henry to have his own space and some room for when Emma came over.

Neal had looked a little confused when Emma had shown up at the door with a dog. But he warmed up quickly when Princess was friendly with both he and Henry. Especially Henry, who was now sprawled out on the knit rug in the living room, playing tug with her.

“Where did she come from? Are we keeping her?” Henry was a little more enthusiastic than Emma had anticipated. She would have gotten the kid a dog years ago had she known he would be so excited.

“I’m watching her for a friend,” Emma said neutrally. Henry didn’t seem to notice but as she looked up at the brown leather couch on the other side of the room, she read Neal’s face… and it didn’t seem like he was buying that excuse.

“How long is she staying at the house?” Henry tugged against the rope Princess had her grip on. She was far stronger than the kid but she was still letting him win.

“A few days at most. I thought she might be good to have around after everything that’s been going on…” Emma pondered her next words carefully but inevitably said, “if it works out, maybe we can adopt a dog of our own.”

“Really?” Her son’s face lit up. Okay now she had to get a dog there was no way she could resist how happy that thought made the kid.

“Yes really, and if you want to come back to my house to help me take care of her now I think that would be okay.” Emma had been skeptical about letting Henry come back. The other night had been bizarre and unsettling, but after last night and knowing the dog would be there she felt a bit better. Plus she had no plans to leave Henry’s side so as long as she was with him it would be okay. Emma would like to try to see someone come at her son, whoever did would be gutted on the floor before they knew what hit them.

“I’ll grab my things.” Henry raced out of the room and down the hall to his bedroom. Leaving only Emma, Neal, and Princess.

“So,” Neal was the one to break the silence, “you’re watching her for a friend?”

A knowing look on his face told Emma he had a feeling the dog had not come from such an innocent source. But it broke into a smile a few seconds later that reached his eyes.

“It’s complicated,” she replied. Trying not to give anything away with her face, but after all this time Neal still knew her pretty well.

“It always is with you, Em,” he joked and stood. She shook her head at him, aware that he wasn’t trying to be nasty or nosy. He was just pushing her buttons, as you are allowed to do with someone when you’ve known them most of your life.

Henry returned to the room with his duffel bag over his shoulder. Princess stood up and went to his side immediately. At least they were getting along. That was a good sign.

“Are you coming to my mom’s tomorrow for brunch?” Emma asked as she, Henry and the dog were halfway down the hall. Sunday was Mother’s Day. A tough one for Neal, for many reasons. And for as long as Emma could remember he spent it with she and her parents and Henry. It wasn’t traditional, or normal, she understood that. But it was what they had always done.

“Yeah, do you need me to bring anything?” Neal asked.

“No. You know my dad, he’s got it all covered.”

“Alright, see you then, Em. Bye, Henry.” He waved and was closing the door to his apartment when someone enter the hall. Robert Gold. Followed quickly by his wife Belle.

“Hi grandpa, Belle,” Henry greeted the two but was immediately pulled by Princess’s leash as she lunged for Mr. Gold, releasing a wildly unfriendly growl.

“Hey!” Emma grabbed the leash and tugged the dog to her side. Having never seen the dog act that way she was shocked. “Sorry about that.”

“Never was much of a dog person, myself,” Mr. Gold said calmly as he looked down at the dog who was now under control but still baring her teeth. Belle looked entirely uncomfortable and her back was pressed firmly up against the wall.

The dog stilled at Emma’s side but she noticed that the fur on the back of Princess’s neck was standing straight up. She tightened her grip on the leash as Mr. Gold walked past them to get to Neal’s front door.

“I take it my son’s around?” the man asked before pulling a ring of keys from his pocket to unlock the door.

“Yeah, he’s there.” Emma turned and began to walk away. “Sorry about the dog, she’s a friend’s.”

“I’m sure.” Was the last thing Robert Gold said to her before entering his son’s apartment with his wife. Princess wasn’t the only one who felt unsettled by the whole thing.

The rest of the day was nice. Emma had her son back in their house and everything felt, for the most part, right. She was able to get some work done, mostly administrative tasks she had been too busy to look at. She opened all of the windows to let fresh air in, the light lull of birds chirping mixed with rustling leaves.

Henry and Princess played in the yard for a while, wearing one another out until they came in to relax. Her son on the couch by the window and the dog panting on the cool hardwood floor. They had hit it off pretty easily despite the minor hiccup at had occurred outside of Neal’s apartment. How Princess had been so quick to react to Neal’s father, when she had seen the dog be nothing but lovely to anyone else. It didn’t sit well with Emma. And it certainly didn’t help when the dog went back to being pleasantly loyal as soon as they left the building.

Mother’s Day had arrived. She didn’t love the holiday altogether but she did enjoy spending time with her family. Her father had organized a large spread at the Nolan farmhouse. The kitchen island was filled with pastries and eggs and bacon and pancakes. Flutes of champagne and orange juice were handed out to everyone but Henry. Neal showed up a few minutes after Emma did with a case of donuts. Princess stood at Emma’s feet trying to catch dropped bits of food. Her mother and father had looked questioningly at Emma when she had rolled up with a dog that didn’t belong to her. But she fed them the ‘dogsitting for a friend’ line and they took the explanation… at least on the outside. On the inside Emma read her mother’s face like a book and she could tell Mary Margaret was about to burst at the seams holding in what she wanted to say.

It was quite the scene. The five of them (well six if you include the dog) gathered around the table, laughing and smiling over a brunch they had every year together. But coincidentally it was also Sunday. The day Killian was supposed to return from New York. She thought about whether or not he would want to see her like he had said. Her mind wandered to that place, the place she had last been with him. Her porch the night she had come back to her home, after the craziest, most bizarre week he had eased the burden of it. That’s not to say she wasn’t also thinking about certain other activities with him.

It wasn’t fair. He was like a male lead from some sappy romance novel. All height and dark hair, thick and gorgeous accent, just open enough that you see he’s complicated, just closed off enough that he’s still a mystery. Everything about the man intrigued her, but if she let herself she could feel more for him and that was terrifying. The thought of placing her vulnerable heart in the hands of someone she had only encountered a short time ago. Sure she had known who he was growing up but that wasn’t like knowing him. Not the way she felt herself gravitate toward him now. Each time she was with him a deep pull from inside her made her want to be near him. With him. Ravaged by him.

“Emma, honey, pass the salt.” Her father’s voice, the one he used when he had to repeat things brought her back to where she was. Mother’s Day brunch in her parents’ dining room. With her ex-boyfriend and son. Now was not the time to be focusing on her most recent affair with Killian Jones, whose dog sat at Emma’s feet eyeing her like she knew what Emma was thinking about.

“Yeah sure.” Emma hurriedly reached out and grabbed the salt to hand to her father. Her skin warming as she did. Maybe no one noticed.

Later they exchanged gifts. Henry had gotten Mary Margaret a lovely necklace with a blue bird trinket on the chain. It was cute, it was quirky and ultimately something his grandmother would be proud to wear. She put it on immediately, asking for David the ever doting husband to help her secure the clasp.

“It’s lovely, Henry, thank you.” Mary Margaret beamed.

“And this one’s for you, mom,” Henry smiled as he handed Emma a small black velvet box and a card.

“Thanks, kid. You really didn’t have to get me anything.” She ruffled his hair and took the box, opening the card to find a heartfelt message from her son that made her tear up. And then she opened the black box. Inside was a beautiful but simple ring. Of faded metal and central pearl. The same one she had seen Henry holding in his grandfather’s shop. The one that had caught her eye. She smiled, she wore sparse amounts of jewelry but it was beautiful in it’s simplicity.

“It’s so pretty, Henry. Thank you.” As she slipped it on her finger she wrapped her arm around Henry and kissed his head, though now that he was older he didn’t find this to be as cute as she did.

“I know you don’t wear jewelry, but I thought it was small enough that it wouldn’t get in your way.”

He knew her so well.

Later that day she, Neal and Henry left with boxes of leftovers as they always did when coming from her parents’ house. Henry walked ahead of them with the dog by his side, not even using the leash, she just stayed with him. Emma’s heart warmed. The kid needed a dog.

“This kind of stuff could get weird if either of us ever decides to date anyone else…” Neal joked as they walked a few feet behind Henry and the dog.

“God forbid either of us ever get married. Then what do we do?”

“You guys are like family to me… I would probably still come.” He looked at Emma, his brown eyes kind with sincerity. If nothing else Neal was a wonderful father to Henry and a pretty decent friend to her as well. It was just a shame they were a toxic couple.

“You know you’re always welcome here. You’re like the son my dad never had.”

“And your mom’s been more of a mother to me than my own ever was.”

“Has she ever reached out to you?” They slowed a bit further, hanging back to not burden Henry with the topic of his absent grandmother. It wasn’t something usually brought up, but it was hard not to on Mother’s Day. A holiday solely dedicated to the woman who had abandoned him.

“Once or twice.” He kicked a rock with his foot as they made their way down the gravel driveway. “But it never amounts to much in my mind. She never did come back.”

“Maybe now that you’re older….” Emma didn’t know exactly what she was suggesting until she did. “You could be the one to try.”

“I have little to no interest in it.”

He was lying. She could tell. But she wouldn’t push him on the subject. It was entirely his decision as to whether or not he wanted to reconnect with Milah.

“Well if you ever want help finding her… I’m here.”

“Thanks Em.” He put his arm around her, they walked side by side, friend by friend behind their son… and Killian Jones’ dog. “Luckily, my own son has a far better mom.”

“Yeah, well. We have a good kid. He makes it easy.”

Later that night, Emma waited. She hadn’t waited on a man literally ever but she felt really unsure about what she should do. Killian had said he would see her when he came back, but in all fairness she didn’t know what time that was. Or if it was still happening. She hadn’t heard from him since he left her house on Friday (technically Saturday morning) and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit… on edge.

Henry went up to his room around 10:30 for bed, taking the dog with him. The two had taken to each other quickly. Emma wondered if Killian would want his dog back today now that he was back in town.

To calm her nerves she went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. She had settled into shorts and a white tank top as the weather had been warm today. Her hair, which was a bit wild from the heat, was knotted into a braid that fell down her back. Emma leaned back against the farmhouse sink, sipping her wine when there was a knock on the door. She stilled, knowing that it was most likely him. He hadn’t warned her he was coming but she had a gut feeling.

Walking toward the front door she realized she had been right. On her porch stood Killian Jones, still dressed in a full suit, this time with a tie, looking like a GQ model in his effortless handsomeness.

“Hi,” she said quietly when she opened the door. Emma wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet in any scenario but for whatever reason, there was a flutter in her stomach when she saw that he was smiling. At her.

“Hi, love. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“No, not at all.” The flush on her neck and cheeks was free for him to look at, being that her tank top did very little to hide her skin. “Did you come straight from the airport?”

The fact that he hadn’t even changed from his suit made her wonder, was he just as interested as she was?

“Aye, is that alright?” The way he asked her was measured, clearly he was still trying to decipher whether or not he was stepping over any boundaries she had set by being here.

“Yeah.” She smiled, and he did the same. His angular face giving way to a genuine grin.

“Might I come in then?” He wasn’t mocking her when he said it, she could tell, the inquiry was real.

She didn’t say anything back, simply stepping out of the way and opening the door further to allow him inside. Quietly she closed the door behind him, hoping he got the hint that she didn’t want him to leave just yet. He looked good in the entryway. His suit tailored to his thin but muscular frame. His hair tamed for once, slicked back into a mature style. His beard was trimmed but still evident and Emma wondered what the hairs on his chin would feel like between her thighs.

Killian turned to look at her. It was an odd situation they had put themselves in. They weren’t dating, it wasn’t like she could just leap into his arms cooing ‘welcome back, baby’ because he wasn’t hers. Yet they had been so intimate… so heated. The next move was not clear to either of them.

“Did you manage to keep my dog alive this weekend, Emma?” he joked, looking around and a bit concerned when Princess hadn’t run down to greet him.

“She’s fine… she’s upstairs sleeping with Henry in his room.”

“Your boy is here?” His eyebrow shot up, he obviously hadn’t expected her son to be around. Probably because she had kept that part of her life so private from him. And most people who weren’t her close friends. “Shall I go then?”

“What?” Emma was surprised, the idea of him leaving already, when she had… desires that needed taken care of, was not something she was willing to give in to.

“Emma, I’m not here to intrude… if you want to postpone this until a time when the lad isn’t upstairs I-”

She stepped closer to him. The hint of cologne on his clothes an intoxicatingly appealing smell. But there was something else, a scent entirely his own, that she had come to enjoy during their times together. Her hands drew up the lapels of his suit jacket. She didn’t miss the twitch in his demeanor as she did. The quirk of his lip.

“Do you want to leave, Killian?” She asked, moving her hands across him, doing her best to elicit the kind of reaction she knew she could. For once it wouldn’t be him who used smooth dialogue to effect her. No, this time it was her turn.

“No, I don’t want to leave.” His breath was caught as she touched him, though it was through his clothes he felt the natural pull toward her. The desperation he felt to be skin to skin.

“Then don’t.” She leaned in, taking the reigns, kissing him slowly but passionately. Melting their mouths together until she felt her core so built up she needed him immediately. “So why don’t you take me upstairs, and I’ll try my best not to scream your name.”

“Mmmm..” he groaned into her mouth, their lips not touching but close enough. “Lead the way, darling.”

Her hands fell from his jacket to his tie, pulling him toward the stairs up to where her bedroom was. Luckily her bedroom didn’t share a wall with Henry’s. She knew as much as she would probably try to keep quiet, there was only so much she could do.

Still leading him by his tie, she took him into her bedroom. Coincidentally she had changed her sheets that day and made sure her room was clean (coincidentally my ass, she thought to herself). The room was bathed in moonlight, the curtains of the windows entirely open on the warm spring night. She made it to the edge of her bed before she felt Killian behind her. Her back pressed to his front, his fully erect front.

“Lovely place you have here, darling.” His lips fell to her neck, a trail of kisses running over her exposed shoulder. The hair on his chin tickling her in the most erotic way. Her skin alight with desire, her center aching for him. This was not like the last time, there was no brick wall, no sense of urgency, no public. It was just he and her, in her room. The most intimate place to have him. And all she could think about was how badly she wanted him.

His lips went from her shoulder to her neck, kneading into her skin, his tongue painting her with arousal. She spun and wrapped her arms around his neck, meeting his lips with hers. Their mouths moving together in a hungry motion for each other. His hands went from her waist to her ass, giving a playful squeeze that made her gasp. Almost a little too loud. His touch traveled lower, with a look of victory on his face, grasping her thighs aggressively and pulling her up around him. Her legs wrapping around his waist so he was the only thing keeping her off the ground.

They continued to kiss fervidly, Emma’s insides feeling like they may explode if she kept all of these clothes on. His strong arms had her, so she released his neck grasping as the tie around his throat. In two quick moves it was off, giving her full access to the buttons of his white dress shirt. She began undoing them, hoping to reach his glorious chest, but ended up ripping the entire shirt off and half of the buttons flew in every direction. Hitting the hardwood floor one by one.

“Eager, are we?” he mumbled between kisses. In that confident voice she found so appealing.

“I just got tired of waiting,” she responded. Wrapping her legs even tighter around him, grinding her center against his to ease the ache she was feeling. The desire she felt for the friction between them. “I like… rough,” she said the word as if she were almost ashamed of it.

He ceased contact between his lips and hers to look directly into her eyes. He wondered if she had ever had a lover who had made her feel embarrassed for enjoying the rougher side of things. But her face fell a bit, she wondered if maybe she had taken things too far by saying that.

“Do you trust me, Emma?” His deep blue eyes, hooded and sincere met hers. Her legs still holding her up, his hands still under her thighs.

“Yes,” she whispered. And the truth of it was she did. She knew he could bring her to the fathomless depths of her pleasures. He already had before. And she knew he would do it again.

He didn’t say anything but his eyes didn’t leave hers as he set her down. Feet planted on the floor, his hands went to the hem of her tank top, tugging it slowly over her head. She was bare beneath it, not bothering to wear a bra… or underwear but he would find that soon enough as he moved to pull her shorts off of her. His fingers lightly brushed her skin and she felt she would combust.

“So beautiful,” he groaned, dragging a finger up her bare now bare body, slow enough that she felt every bit of it, fast enough that her blood raced along with it. “Rough, you say?”

“Yes.” She could barely get the word out. Every inch of her wishing it was up against him. Her folds dripping with desire for the man before her. He looked like a God. His white shirt open and flowing, revealing his chest, fully to her, for the first time. The dark hair on his chest trailed all the way down to the waistband of his dress pants. She was certain he caught her staring but instead he only said one thing.

“As you wish.” His tongue roved over his teeth beneath his lips. A dangerous look in his eye that both frightened and excited her. He slid the shirt off of his shoulders and it fell in a heap onto the floor. Emma’s eyes followed his hands as they began to undo his pants. Every motion deliberate as he removed his belt, the pants and underwear on the ground on top of his shirt. He was now bare in front of her. His toned body. His broad shoulders. His completely hardened cock that was… massive. She gulped looking at it. Wondering how in the world that had once been inside of her.

“Something wrong, love?”

“You’re huge.” She didn’t want to say it, his ego did not need any more inflation. But it was a fact. He was packin.

“It’s been in you before, Emma. No need to be nervous.” He stepped closer to her. Electricity between them. His face was mischievous like at any moment he would pounce. The anticipation was killing her. His fingers swiped across her aching center. Still wet with want for him, as it always was. He really did not have to do much to work her up. And he knew it. “Always so wet for me, Emma. It’s flattering really.”

She stood still as a sculpture, knowing he was going to do something, but not knowing what it was irked her. He was calculating. The tingle in her chest moving down to the place his fingers now were. Working her in and out, building the desire she felt for him.

“You’re so ready for me, love, I could fuck you right now,” he whispered in her ear. She felt her knees begin to weaken at the thought. She just needed release.

“So do it.” She ground against his fingers hoping to relieve the heat pent up in her body. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

He let out a laugh. A dark gaze on her. It was overwhelming. The way his eyes traced her body before slowly backing her against the post of the bed. She only realized she had hit the thick mahogany of the four post bed when the rolls of the wood dug into her back.

“Ooomf,” she let out a sound as soon as she hit the post. He stood inches from her. All dark hair and passion. She reached her arms up to place her hands on his bare chest. The thick black hair feeling electric on her fingers.

“Ah ah ah.” He grabbed her wrists and removed them from his chest. Emma bit back a moan at the loss of contact. “Allow me.” He took her wrists, delicately kissing each one, before wrapping them behind her back around the bedpost and securing them with a silk tie.

“What the hell?” Her hands were literally tied behind her back. She struggled to free herself but she couldn’t. “Killian… what are you doing?”

“A taste of your own medicine, my darling.” His voice lingered in her ear as he kissed just beneath it. Following the line of her neck, working his mouth downward. Slowly, excruciatingly. She was completely at his mercy, entirely vulnerable. Naked. Tied. Wanton.

“Tease.” She groaned as his kisses made their way down her body. Slowing at her breasts, his mouth latching onto one while his hand worked the other. The pink buds fully erect in seconds, her chest heaving with want as his filthy mouth nipped, sucked, licked her skin as it buzzed.

“Trust me.” Was all he murmured as his mouth left her nipples, now fully hard and wishing he would go back. But as his mouth got closer and closer to her core, she moaned. “Your body seems to.”

He wasn’t wrong. Every limb of hers curled in toward him for some form of contact. She couldn’t deny the effect he had on her. His mouth finally reached the top of her thighs. The apex now dripping in anticipation. His lips met her folds, plundering without much warning, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.

Emma’s leg rested on top of his shoulder. His mouth invading her most intimate place with such confidence and such force she could barely hold herself up. His beard scratched at her skin. Her other leg found its way to his shoulder so he was the only thing holding her up.

“You taste delicious, love.”

“Killian… please…” she begged as he continued to work her, but not letting her fall. Teetering her on the edge as his tongue explored her. Sucking on the juices pouring from within. “Killian…. My god…”

It was enough to fuel him. Her begging. His hunger. Killian rose from his knees to stand in front of her, fully hard. His pink lips puffy from his kisses, his hair disheveled. She thought he would untie her, take her to the bed to fuck her. But instead he readied himself and grabbed her legs. They wrapped around his waist instinctively. Her lack of release still built inside of her. She thought she may come just from their centers meeting. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to grab onto his hair, to touch every part of him she could but her arms were still tied.

He aligned himself with her dripping folds, the tip teasing the entrance. He groaned though it was the barest of touches. His eyes fluttered closed, he seemed to be composing himself. His handsome face twisted into a devilish smirk as his baby blues revealed themselves again. Without warning he plunged deep within her. Emma cried out not thinking. The sensation at first shocking but then immense. He bottomed out immediately.

“Though it would have been a pleasure to make you come with only my mouth, I couldn’t spend another second without being inside of you… so bloody tight.” As he spoke he took a second to let her adjust to his size. Emma eyed him. He had the oddest ways of displaying how he was a gentleman.

“Just fuck me, Killian. I can’t…” all of her strength was currently dedicated to holding her legs around him. Her back pressed against the post. Her body ravaged with passion. Her breath heavy, chest heaving, hair falling from its braid. She must have looked a mess. His hands found her ass, caressing the skin there.

“You’re being awfully loud, darling. Perhaps a punishment is in order.”

Before she could respond, her wit not as quick when she was on the cusp of climaxing, he removed one hand from her ass and brought it back down with a smack. Her head fell back against the post. The pain and the pleasure so overstimulating. His lips found her neck, licking over her. His hand smacked her again causing waves of sensation through her.

He pulled out and slammed back in again, her body shuddering as he found his rhythm. Fucking. Grinding at her center. No holds barred. Rough. Sex. The friction on her clit causing her eyes to roll back into her head. It was so much. It was too much. But she wanted more.

“You have a fantastic ass,” he whispered as he continued the aggressive roll of his hips. He bit her earlobe, and her neck. Most certainly not being gentle. Her ass would be red for days, the bruises on her hips from his hands would appear.

His hand slipped from her ass to her core, teasing her. Emma’s hands pulled at the ties, those would bruise too. But she didn’t care. He ripped her hair entirely from its braid, setting it free around them. Running his fingers through it. Only to pull it into his hand and wrap it around his own wrist.

“I like something to hold onto,” he thrusted, so close, “My beautiful, Emma.”

His stubble brushed her chin as his lips met hers in one final surge of passion, a bruising kiss, as she reached her peak. The pleasure so intense and so overwhelming she could hardly breathe as she ground into him while he released himself into her. They fucked each other through, not stopping until the throbbing ceased.

Emma felt like she might faint. Never having experienced passion like that, her body so overcome by it. Her legs fell from his waist too weak to hold the position any longer. Blood coursed through her veins, heart racing, his release dripping down her leg.

“Emma, love, are you alright?” His face had gone from devilish to concerned in a matter of seconds as he realized she couldn’t stand on her own. He untied her, her wrists stiff and sore from being wrapped for so long. And he caught her as she stumbled.

“Sorry, I’m just not…” She couldn’t even remember if she had ever had sex that good. “It’s never been that…”

“I’ll take your speechlessness as a compliment.” He was still holding her. Such a chaste gesture after such raucous behavior. She looked up at him and smiled a bit, a little embarrassed at just how good he had been. “Here, lay down.”

He scooped her up in his strong arms and laid her down on the sheets. Leaving the room only to return with a wet washcloth to clean her off.

“Well aren’t you a gentleman,” she joked as he carefully wiped away the evidence of their encounter.

“I’m always a gentleman.” He smirked.

“Do all gentleman tie women up in their own homes?”

He leaned down close to her face. His features dark and stormy. God was he attractive. “Only when the woman begs for it.” He winked before rising back up and picking up his previously shed clothes. Killian began to redress himself and as Emma watched him she considered asking him to stay. After all, if she could get another round like that out of him he could stay for a whole week.

He caught her staring at him… again. “I’m just following the rules,” he said straightening the collar of his shirt. Though he couldn’t button it, and he shot her a sardonic look when he remembered all of the buttons were dispersed on her bedroom floor. Once sufficiently clothed he leaned back down to her, without hesitation, and kissing her. The hunger beneath his lips evident as he begged entrance to her mouth. She moaned, grabbing his hair, as she had wanted to do the whole time.

When he pulled away they were both out of breath. The sexual tension still there though they had just thoroughly fucked one another.

“Remember, darling. No sleepovers.”

Her mind cursed her own rule she had given him, wishing he would stay for another round. But her stubbornness and sheer exhaustion took over. She remained silent as she watched him leave her bedroom, not even staying awake long enough to hear him start his car to drive off.

It was like that for two weeks. He never asked to stay over, though they were together almost every night. The floodgates had opened. Each night with him was different, unique in and of itself. Her sexual experiences with him unlike any she had ever had. It had been so long since she had had good sex, it wasn’t something she was willing to back down on. And he didn’t seem to want to back down either. Spending hours lazily kissing one another in bed, alternating between positions, taking turns pleasuring one another until they could no longer breathe.

During the day she would work. Fully focused on the task at hand. Doing her best not to reveal to anyone else she worked with what was going on between she and Killian. Emma researched as much as possible. The clues at a standstill since the one at her door. Sometimes after they finished having sex, the two would lay together for a while just to talk. He often spoke of his early years, his childhood far different from hers. Killian always expressed wanting to help find the murderer of his parents but some things were far too personal for him to dive into. It provided a closeness between the two. A foundation for conversation that would allow them to get to know each other better.

But this was not always the case. There was one night in particular where she went over to his hotel for their nightly encounter, and not one single word was spoken between the two before fucking.

It was late, as it usually was with them, they hadn’t seen each other the night before because Emma had fallen asleep. The combination of long nights with Killian and long days spent on the investigation taxing her body relentlessly. But she wanted to see him again, the thought of missing another night in his bed upsetting her more than she would ever admit. So nonchalantly she had told him she would come over that night.

The man at the front desk of Killian’s hotel had come to recognize her by now, giving her a subtle wave as she made her way to the elevator that would take her to his penthouse. Anticipation bubbling within her as the pleasure that was to come.

The elevator dinged and let her out in the foyer of his hotel suite. A large empty space, dimly lit by the overhead chandelier. She wasn’t two steps inside before seeing Killian descend the spiral staircase, looking more like a royal than a man. His gaze pointed, piercing. Heat boiled within her veins, her stomach, her aching core. With purpose he crossed the floor to where she was, not wasting another second before mounting her on the circular wooden table central to the room. The vase of flowers atop crashing to the floor as he pushed her over the surface. Thrusting into her with all of the force her body could take. His lips all over her, trailing her skin, fucking her wordlessly. His hands rough on her hips, his cock pumping into her. She could barely catch her breath.

“Already so wet for me, Emma. You’re just as filthy as I am.” He breathed into her ear, continuing to fuck her through to her peak. “Say my name, love.”

“Killian…” she moaned. Weak to any command he gave her at this point.

“There’s a good girl.” The more she cried out for him the harder he thrust, until finally the table beneath them gave way. Collapsing from the passionate tryst it had been subjected to. Killian caught her, not missing a beat, before continuing his motions on the marble floor.

Emma boldly flipped over so he was on his back and she was on top. Still fully sheathed inside of her, Emma began to grind her hips, taking control.

“That’s it, darling. Ride me.” His eyes shut, allowing her to fuck him, his hands on her hips steadying her, keeping pace with her. Emma could barely contain herself anymore.

“Killian… I’m gonna…” was all she was able to croak out as she reached her peak. The wave of passion crashing through her body. She shook as she climaxed, and felt him do the same. Her pussy milking his cock of its seed as he too fell. Kissing her breasts, neck, arms, mouth, anything he could reach.

She stared at him breathlessly in the wake of their passions, wondering if she would ever in her life find another man who could even compete.

“Emma, love, what have you done to me?” he asked in the afterglow. Expressing once again how all consuming their encounters had been.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

And now, two weeks from that night in her bed when he had tied her up, they lay together amongst ruffled sheets. It was a Friday night. Henry was with Neal for the weekend fishing. She had the house to herself. Well that was, until Killian came over. Tonight had been different. Emma wasn’t sure if it was because they had the house to themselves or because it was a Friday and neither of them had to be at work in the morning, but the entire encounter had been so… slow. And not in a bad way. Their usual biting had become kissing, scratching had turned to caressing.

From the time he walked in the door there wasn’t a striking urgency to fuck each other into oblivion. They took their time. Eventually making their way to the bedroom, where they fucked long, slow, excruciating. If she didn’t know any better she would call it something else entirely. Because it felt less like fucking and more like… well like something else.

“You know, I haven’t had anyone in this bed… ever.” Emma didn’t meet his eyes as she said it. She was curled up against his chest. His arm hanging loosely on her hip. His other bent to hold his head up. Post sex. His seed dried between her thighs, sweat coating both of their bodies. She played with the hair on his chest, probably one of her favorite features on him. Or at the very least it was in the top 5. “I don’t know why I said that… it probably doesn’t reflect too kindly on the kind fuck I am.”

His hand went from her hip, reaching up to cup her cheek. The motion so gentle, as if she were made of porcelain. “Darling, you are a phenomenal lover.”

Lover. Was that was this was now? The title not the worst thing in the world. But the use of the word ‘love’ so foreign to her.

“And it’s an honor to be in your bed.” His gaze finally connected with hers. She tried to find the slightest bit of deception. Of mockery. But came up with nothing. He was being honest. He always was with her. Killian bent his head down and kissed her forehead. So lightly. But she felt it all over.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked, walking outside of her comfort zone to learn a bit more about him.

“Excuse me?” He was confused, such a light and simple question not usually in their vocabulary, the circumstances of their time together heavier than usual small talk.

“Your favorite color, I want to know what it is.”

He smiled a bit, almost like no one ever took the time to know such a small thing. Meeting her eyes directly he whispered, “Green… and yours?”

“Blue,” she said without hesitation.

“People don’t really ask me questions like that,” he offered honestly. Just as she had suspected. “I think I may come off as a bit… intimidating.”

“You? Never!” she joked. Remembering the first day she had seen him in the office. His suit. His smoldering frown. He came off hard. But she assumed that was from years of closing himself off to survive the aftermath of losing his parents. “It’s okay. No one ever asks me that kind of stuff either.”

“Aren’t we quite the pair?” the air of his voice when he referred to them as a pair was so light but quickly his face darkened. “Emma I didn’t mean to insinuate that…”

“Why don’t you stay tonight?” she blurted out.

“Emma...” He seemed a bit hesitant. Maybe she had read him wrong. Maybe he didn’t want to sleep in the same bed with her. But then his face softened and a smile that reached his eyes overtook his features. “I would love to.”

He grabbed her face with both hands and pulled her into a kiss that turned heated in mere seconds. Tangled together in the sweat stained sheets, they lazily kissed for what felt like hours before he took her again. Bringing her to completion before they fell into a deep and comfortable sleep. Wrapped in his arms, her back to his front, she felt safe.

Saturday morning Emma awoke expecting panic. She expected the usual anxiety she felt when she slept with a man. But this wasn’t just any man, this was Killian. He was still fast asleep in the early morning light. Handsome as ever. His face looked young, relaxed. His dark brows, hair and beard unruly with sleep. Her hand absentmindedly went to his cheek.

“See something you like, love?” his voice was scratchy with morning, accent thick. Her breath caught at the sound. How was it possible his voice was even more gorgeous in the morning?

“Good morning, Killian.” She smiled. His eyes slowly opening to look up at her. They were both still naked from the night before. But she didn’t feel exposed.

“Good morning, darling.” He sat up. His hair stuck out in all directions and Emma had to fight back a laugh at how disheveled he was.

“Last night was…” she didn’t know what to say. Because it was everything. But she didn’t want to say that, at the risk of sounding like a maniac. “Amazing.”

“Aye, it was. My life has been far more…. Pleasurable with you in it.” He was holding back too she could tell. Two incredibly stubborn humans. She didn’t have time to say anything more because her phone was ringing. Looking at the screen it was Henry. She had been adamant about him checking in during his weekend away. She hadn’t spent much time apart from Henry since the day he returned after the mysterious note distributor had paid a visit to their home.

“I have to take this, it’s Henry,” she said to Killian.

“Of course, love, mind if I put on a pot of coffee?”

“Sure, filters are above the fridge, coffee’s in the cupboard next to it,” she finished explaining to Killian just as she swiped to answer the phone.

“Hey kid, how’s fishing?” Killian left the room, slipping on a pair of briefs before heading downstairs to make the coffee. Henry launched into a detailed explanation of the entire 18 hours since he and Neal had arrived at the camp. Everything from the weather to the cabin to the morning they had spent at the lake. On and on. It was amusing to Emma, but eventually after 3 minutes of straight talking Henry told his mother he had to go. That they were going back out on the boat.

“Alright, kid call me later okay?” She managed to get out before they hung up. As she set her phone back on her nightstand she reached for Killian’s button up that was strewn on the floor. It smelled like him. Slipping it on it felt nice. Her calmness was short lived when she heard a voice calling to her from downstairs. Her whole body went still. The hair on her arms standing up.

“Emma. Marie. Nolan.” Her father.

Emma moved quickly. Once the shock to her system had settled in she needed to get downstairs as quickly as possible. Because if what she thought was happening in her kitchen was actually happening, then Killian Jones was standing next to her coffee maker on a Saturday morning in nothing but his briefs. And her father was there too.

Which was exactly what she walked into when she came down the stairs and rounded the corner to the kitchen. Except it was worse. Much worse. Because not only was David Nolan standing there, grocery bag in hand. To his right was her mother, whose face was visibly red. And last but not least Killian who was, in fact, right next to the coffee pot. Shirtless. Pantsless. Looking like a deer in the headlights.

“What are you guys doing here?” Was the first thing out of Emma’s mouth when she had her bearings.

“We thought it would be nice to come over and cook you breakfast…” her mother spoke. David on the other hand was staring at the half naked man in Emma’s kitchen. He looked so mad she was certain fumes were coming from the top of his head.

“You didn’t think to call first?” Emma responded. She glanced at her parents, then to Killian, who had never looked so shy in the entire time she had known him.

“We, uh, we didn’t think we had to.” Mary Margaret, clearly not knowing what to do with herself, began fiddling with the bag in her hands.

“Dad…?” David finally looked at her. His face a wash of anger, disappointment, protectiveness. In all fairness, her father had only ever seen her with one guy. He was in no way used to the notion of her having a man in her life. If that’s what Killian could be called. “Why don’t you guys start breakfast, and give us a minute?”

It probably didn’t help that Emma was obviously wearing a shirt that did not belong to her and had a hickey the size of a chicken nugget on her neck but her father didn’t say another word. He just set the bags on the counter, getting ready to cook breakfast. Mary Margaret looked over at Emma, her mother not nearly as angry as her father. She watched her mom grab her dad’s wrist, and whisper something that apparently eased his temper a bit. Because the redness faded from his face and he came off a bit lighter than when she had first entered the room.

Emma motioned for Killian to walk over to her. Mr. Suave had completely lost any bravado in this compromising position. He walked over to her, a sense of urgency in his step as they tucked themselves in the hallway to have a private moment.

“Emma, I tried to.. They came in without knocking I couldn’t hide fast enough,” his speech was frantic. It was endearing. How nervous he had gotten at the sight of her parents. Killian had met David plenty of times before, but not in this kind of scenario.

“Shh, it’s okay. It isn’t your fault. I’m sorry, I really didn’t know they were coming here. You can leave if you want.”

But just as she gave him the way out she heard her mother call from the other room. “Killian, honey would you like to stay for breakfast?”

Emma’s head fell back and hit the wall. The torture being inflicted on her right now was most certainly karmic repayment for letting him sleepover.

“Perhaps, we should go get dressed, love.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt that she was wearing. When she put it on she assumed it would be like a fun, sexy, normal thing to do the morning after sex. But again. The universe had slapped her in the face for it. “Though I must say it looks better on you.” He winked at her. The embarrassment leaving him the more time they were out of view.

“You can’t do this right now…” she put her hands on his bare chest. Trying to push him away but found herself drawn to how warm he was. Fuck.

“Do what?” He inched closer. Eyebrow up, tongue exposed.

“Flirt with me… they’re right there.”

“I hate to break it to you, love, but I think our cover is blown,” he whispered. How he had gone from shy, blushing, Killian in the kitchen to this insatiable flirt she would never understand.

“Just… let’s go get dressed. We don’t need to make this any worse than it is.”

She pulled away from him, wishing she didn’t have to. While against the wall she wondered whether or not he would have fucked her right there if her parents hadn’t crashed their morning. Something she would never know, she thought, as she walked up the creaky wooden stairs to her bedroom. She and Killian did their best to appear presentable for breakfast but it was truly a lost effort. Mary Margaret and David knew what was going on. Even as they tried to ignore the elephant in the room, sitting around the kitchen table eating breakfast.

Emma’s mother, at the very least, spoke to Killian. Clearly trying to make him feel more comfortable. Mary Margaret far more open to this situation. While David just frowned, eating his pancakes bit by bit. Emma’s spine felt like it had a rod through it, she was so stiff from the tension between she and her father. For the first time in a very long time he was not pleased with her.

After breakfast, Killian dismissed himself. Telling everyone he needed to get back to his hotel and to his dog. Mary Margaret and David both looked at each other, knowingly. Probably putting the pieces together about the dog that had been at their house on Mother’s Day two weeks ago. If Emma melted into a puddle right then and there she truly would not have minded. It would save her the task of having to talk to her parents after Killian left.

She walked him to the door. Feeling far too embarrassed about the way their first overnight visit had gone to even hug him. Luckily he took his own liberties with her.

“I’ll call you later, darling.” His hands went around her waist. Pulling her to him. She couldn’t help but feel the charge that surged through her.

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“Ah but I want to. That’s the thing.” His smirk challenged her. As much as she tried to fence herself off she knew Killian Jones didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do.

“This morning was kind of… weird.”

“Interestingly enough I don’t blame you for that.” He reached up, twirling a piece of blonde hair between his fingers. “Besides, I think your mother is starting to like me.”

Him making light of the situation made her feel the slightest bit better. But she still wasn’t thrilled. As much as she wanted to use this morning as an excuse to never have him stay over again, she knew 99% of their night had been… incredible.

“Emma, I don’t want to upset you… or make you uncomfortable. If last night was too much we can just go back to-”

She cut him off with her lips. Kissing him as she had wanted to since she woke up. His soft mouth moving with hers. Emma hoped this gave him enough of an answer without having to say any more.

“Alright then.” When he pulled away his hand found his lips, certain he felt the buzz she did when their skin met. “I’ll call you later.”

“Thank you for staying, Killian!” Emma’s mother’s voice came from the kitchen. There was no way the woman hadn’t been eavesdropping the entire time. Emma rolled her eyes.

“Thank you for having me!” He yelled back. An amused look on his face as he slipped out the door.

When Emma walked back into the bright kitchen her father was at the sink washing dishes and her mother was sitting at the table setting down her mug of coffee. A massive grin on Mary Margaret’s face.

“There’s an envelope on the table for you. It arrived this morning,” David said, finishing up the last of the dishes. The air seemed to lighten between the two of them. Whatever was inside the envelope a peace offering from her dad.

Emma’s eyes scanned the package, relief washing over her when she realized it was a real piece of mail. From a real person. Not some manipulative coward who dropped clues on her porch instead of just coming forward. No, this was exactly what she had been waiting for. The drawings Archibald Hopper had promised her. The ones Moira Jones did during her sessions with him.

“It’s the sketches,” Emma said aloud to no one in particular. Tearing through the seal to reveal a stack of art.

“I’ve looked through them but nothing stuck out to me. I figured you have a better eye than me.” Her dad looked apologetic as he said it. Neither one of them could stay mad at the other for long. They were too similar. “Take some time, look through them, see what you think.” David put his arm around her, kissing her forehead before leaving the house with his wife in toe.

To say Emma was relieved was an understatement. The morning had been… trying. And now she had some time alone to focus. She could get some work done, look at Moira’s sketches. Take in all there was to analyze. Enjoy the quiet. She almost wished Killian was still here so he could see the talent his mother had. Chances are he had never seen any of her work.

Emma posted up at her table, flipping through the stack of drawings. The morning and afternoon went by slowly as she picked through the art. Amongst them were sketches of their home. The flowers that lined the driveway in full bloom, an antique car parked in front. A picturesque scene. Two little boys running through the landscaping, an image of innocence Emma could only assume was a depiction of Liam and Killian.

Another showed a tea kettle, atop an antique stove, spouting steam. A simple mug shadowed in the corner. The attention to detail in each picture astounding for someone who managed to do these during weekly therapy sessions.

The last drawing in the stack showed hands. Four to be exact. Two dainty, soft hands resting over a belly. A simple wedding band on the left hand. Slightly covered by the rough hands of a more masculine entity. It looked like a close up of a maternity photo shoot, the shading of the belly appearing rotund. But there was something on the other hand. The right hand of the woman had a ring in the mirror position of the wedding band. She had to look once, twice, three times to ensure what she saw was correct. Holding her own hand in comparison, the ring in the drawing was the exact same ring she wore on her own finger.

The simple, unique pearl ring Henry had given her as a gift for Mother’s Day. The ring that had come from Neal’s father’s shop…

Emma gulped. It added up. The odd behavior, the constant arrogance associated with the investigation, the reclusivity from society. Emma did the math in her head, the ages were certainly plausible. Moira Jones would have been almost identical in age to Mr. Gold had she still been alive. She thought back to the way in which Killian’s dog had reacted so negatively to the sight of only one man. The same exact ring that had been in his shop, was the one in a drawing from over twenty years ago. And she had her suspect. Robert Gold.