#and then would make them a profile. and while my dr wc au is so so important to me the designs are so old i hate a lot of them now..

[catgirlkirigiri]

Hey guys should I make artfight pages for my wc crossover aus.. I kinda want to but idk

[shardminds]

I would stop the world for you

Pairing: Emma Swan/Killian Jones Rating: E for smut  WC: 6975 ABO!AU

Scratching an itch is what she’d called it, over breakfast with a barely-there smile and a smear of whipped cream from her hot chocolate on her bottom lip. It. This. Them.

He’d known that it would be easy to fall for her. He’s been trying not to ever since.

Here it is! The ABO you’ve all been waiting for... maybe? 

I want to give a BIG thank you to Salem (@artistic-writer) who is not only the reason for this works conception but also the brave soul that beta'd the living shit out of it, helped me muddle together a summary after I killed my brain while writing and put up with my whiny arse throughout. The bitch is fantastic. Show her, her writing and her art some love!

I also want to thank Sara (@darkcolinodonorgasm) for giving this a once over at the 4k mark and screaming at/with me when I thought my muse had run out. You're wonderful!

Also on AO3

Tagging a few who showed interest early on! @thisonesatellite​, @kmomof4​, @hollyethecurious​, @winterbaby89​, @gingerchangeling​, @resident-of-storybrooke​, @tiganasummertree​

It started with a text. Usually, Killian would have let it be and left the message unread until his break for fear of Liam catching him slouched over the battered oak workbench in the corner of their somehow impeccably kept workshop, eyes glued to his phone rather than the carburettor of the ‘76 Impala he should be working on. It would have earned him a lecture on professionalism and appearance and the same ‘this business is important’ shpiel Liam came out with every time he caught any member of their small team in a moment of distraction. As CEO of Jones & Jones Auto Refurbishments, he tended to let his ruling Alpha traits come through as a business owner - assertive, confident, loyal and a little bit of an arse if he didn’t get his own way. Killian, similarly Alpha in his nature, knows they’re unfortunately similar in their personalities, although he likes to pride himself on not being an arse all the time and being the more likeable Jones sibling. Hopefully, many people would back him up on that. They’d butted heads throughout their lives but, at the end of the day, Liam is all he’s got and a simple text message is usually not worth losing his brother’s favour over.

Liam wasn’t there today though, choosing instead to meet up with some of their more high profile customers to discuss refurb schedules in the spring quarter. His absence bumps Killian up from CEO’s younger-not-little brother and head mechanic to CEO’s younger-not-little brother, head mechanic and acting CEO until Liam gets back from his weekend away talking shop with a bunch of ponces who buy classic cars but have no clue about the maintenance or upkeep. It’s a lengthy title. They’re working on it. The biggest take away from his temporary promotion is that he can check his phone whenever he damn well pleases. Will and Robin are working away on the rust bucket of a Mini Cooper that had been dropped off yesterday by a disgruntled Graham on the other side of the workshop. They’re bickering, as usual, over if the vehicle will need a respray or not. Killian lets himself zone out of their squabbling as he pulls his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

What’s waiting there for him has a thrum of arousal awakening before he can even compose himself to read it fully. Emma. His best friend, confidant and the occasional recipient of his knot whenever her heat gets the better of her.

It’d been less than 48 hours since he’d seen her last to fuck out the residual energy his rut had left coursing through him. It was needy and raw and, when his knot hit, he’d had to stop himself from clamping down on the gland in the juncture of her neck. There was no way he’d have been able to resist sinking his teeth into the supple skin there if his rut was in full swing but that’s exactly the reason they’re careful about the scheduling of their trysts – avoiding his rut and indulging her heat whenever possible. They have apps to log it and everything.

With spring coming in, most Alphas were taking time off to handle their season. Killian had felt his coming a mile off and immediately locked himself away and started prepping high-protein meals, sterilizing his toys and cancelling all his plans – including the ones involving a certain willing Omega. He likes her a lot more than he probably should, but he doesn’t want to force the obligation of his mark onto her. A lot of other Alphas would’ve already. He’s been told as much and knocked half as many out for trying. Always coming to Emma afterwards, battered and bloody. She welcomes him with open arms, cleans his wounds and thanks him in her own way. He knows she doesn’t want that whole marked, barefoot and pregnant life and he respects that. There’s no way he’s ready to bring kids into the world. His one-bedroom apartment above the workshop is no place to raise a child, for god’s sake. He knows Emma feels the same. Her reliance on the contraceptives Dr Whale supplies her with is concrete proof of that. She even keeps a box in Killian’s bedside table, just in case.

As much as he’d love a repeat performance of the other night, they’d already discussed their clashing calendars. Liam was away on business and Emma was covering for David at the station while he rode out his rut. Well… his wife rode it out. They’d be fine for a couple of weeks. Killian has a reminder in his phone for when Emma’s next heat is due to hit so he knows when to stock up on carby foods, ice cream and good coffee. He’s freed up that week for her, knowing how needy she can get through her heat.

Regardless, she doesn’t usually text him while he’s at work. She knows how Liam gets. It must be something important. He swipes open his phone, taking a second to smile at his lock screen. It’s a picture of the two of them, curled up with matching cups of hot chocolate and a shared blanket that he’d taken at some point to prove to Ruby that they occasionally do things other than fucking. Sometimes ‘Netflix and Chill’ means just that. Emma’s hair is a mess and so is his but their smiles are genuine and it makes his heart warm every time. He flicks up her messages with another swipe of his thumb and his smile falls.

Swan: I’m early. Need you now. Please.

She means her heat. He’s not stupid. Had it been a month already? A quick check to his calendar shows that she’s not due for another week at least. They meticulously planned these things. Killian Jones, a self-professed neat freak, and Emma Swan, the proud owner of a ‘floordrobe’, disagree on a lot of things when it comes to personal organisation. The one thing they do agree on, however, is keeping track of their cycles.

The last time she’d been early, they ended up fucking in the back of her Yellow VW Bug on the way home from a beach trip with the Nolans. She’d been wearing the smallest bikini he’d ever seen, the two black triangles only just covering her breasts before being secured by a thin strap at her nape and a second behind her back. Instead of matching bottoms, she’d gone with a pair of frayed denim shorts that brushed the tops of her thighs and hugged her behind so deliciously that he could barely keep a hold of the growl brewing in his throat. Sand clung to her arse and the back of her legs and he wanted nothing more than to brush it off and pull her into his lap. He could smell her arousal creeping up on her before she could, approaching as inevitably as the tide, and he knew they would not make it back to her apartment before it hit. For the sake of David, Mary Margaret and the rest of the families trying to enjoy themselves on a rare sunny beach day, Killian bundled Emma into the cramped back seat of her car and began the two-hour drive back to Storybrooke.

She had him pull over after half an hour to give her a hand, so to speak.

The upholstery stains had been a bitch to get out.

Before thinking of the consequences, he fumbles out a text back to her.

K. Jones: Be there in 5.

“Rob! Will!” He calls out across the shop, knowing he’s been heard when the incessant bickering turns to silence. The two Betas would be able to handle things on their own for the day. They’d get no work done, sure, but he could afford that. Work had been slow all morning and there was no sign of it picking up any time soon. As long as they finish the Mini by the week’s end, Liam will be none the wiser. Pulling on his leather jacket, Killian headed over their way. “Something’s come up. Can you cover for me?”

“What is it this time, lover boy?” Will chimes in, appearing from under the hood of Graham’s Mini, his white vest smeared with oil despite him not remotely touching the engine today. One eyebrow raised in a questioning glare. “Missus need you to lick her boots again?”

Rob issues him with a slap, sending his friend’s head straight into the hood of the car with a metallic thud and a groan. They’d have to buff that one out later. Well…Will would.

“That’s no way to talk to your superior, William. Show some respect.”

Rob laughs at the snarl he gets in return, reaching across to ruffle his friend’s buzzcut. Will clenches his teeth, biting out his response. “Call me William one more time and I’ll show you some respect.”

Killian had always found their relationship a little odd. Will is always ready for a fight, a punch first ask questions later kind of bloke and Robin is the one that drags him back to reality with a gentle hand…and maybe occasionally a firm shove. They’re two sides of the same coin and Liam would be lost without them in the shop. Hell, Killian would be lost without them in his life.

Especially now.

“Lads, I’m trusting you to not burn the place down. Lock up when you’re done, will you?” He launches his keys at Rob who plucks them out of the air and tucks them into the breast pocket of his pristine overalls, patting them for good measure. Rob, he could trust. Will, on the other hand…It’s a good job Liam had gone all out on their liability insurance.

They bid him farewell with a sarcastic “Aye aye, Captain!” before Killian can protest. He doesn’t have the time to bollock them for being insolent. Plus, they’re doing him a favour by watching over the shop, both automatically aware of the nature of his absence. He flips them off, jumping into his Jeep and slamming it into gear before speeding across town with little regard for the speed limit. It’s okay. He’s got connections in the sheriff’s office.

Well… one connection. The same connection he’s about to fuck the living daylights out of.

Scratching an itch is what she’d called it, over breakfast with a barely-there smile and a smear of whipped cream from her hot chocolate on her bottom lip. It. This. Them.

He’d known that it would be easy to fall for her. He’s been trying not to ever since.

Emma’s apartment building is tucked away on the other side of Storybrooke. Past main street and the town hall, almost on the edge of the town boundary. The whole apartment block is a sanctuary for unclaimed Omegas; tucked far enough away that they’re able to endure their heats in peace, but close enough that you can still get lunch delivered from Granny’s if needed. Alphas, upon entry, have to provide ID, evidence of their previous rut and what their intentions are while visiting. Luckily, Ruby was on duty today – pillar-box red nails offering him a little wave as he passes by the entrance checkpoint. Killian didn’t even have to slow his Jeep. She had the barriers open for him already. Emma must’ve called ahead.

Rolling his truck into the nearest parking bay, Killian almost forgets to check if he’s locked it before he’s vaulting over the fence and sprinting into the sterile building, taking the linoleum stairs two at a time to get to Emma’s third-floor apartment faster. The building smells of bleach and fresh laundry but, underneath it all, he can taste something distinctly her. Earthy yet fresh, sweet and almost spicy. It swells around him like a warm embrace when she throws open her door.

He hadn’t even knocked.

She’s a sight for sore eyes dressed in one of his old band t-shirts, logo far too faded to be legible anymore, and a pair of boy shorts that do nothing to hide how slick she is, wetness seeping through the material with every second spent stood in the doorway. She’s gorgeous and glowing, a thin sheen of sweat causing her to glisten under the fluorescence of the hallway lights, flecks of gold catching in her lust-darkened eyes. Her hair hangs in matted curls over her left shoulder and he knows she must have been too impatient to blow dry it that morning, instead opting to let it air dry while she took care of herself in other ways. Fuck. He can’t think about that right now. The tang of her heat in the air makes him want enough as it is. He does not need filthy images of Emma trying to get herself off with the knot toy he’d bought for her last year when her heat and his rut had clashed. He does not need to think of how she was probably whining for him, aching to be filled by something real, way before she texted him to come over.

She wants him, needs him, and he can smell it rolling off her in waves.

It’d be rude not to oblige.

She must’ve had the same thought because she pounces on him the second he moves to step forward, arms surrounding his neck and legs circling his waist. He can’t help but reach down to her arse, giving it a light pinch which has her letting out an indecent moan before she’s crashing their lips together. He shouldn’t miss her. It’d not been two days since he last had her, hard and fast against the tiled walls of his shower and yet, when she’s like this, desperate and begging in his arms, he damns every second they were apart. The door slams shut behind them and Killian promptly shoves her up against it, swallowing down the noise it earns him.

Emma kisses are urgent and powerful, overwhelming in their ferocity. Omegas aren’t usually celebrated for their power but she’s different. Her heat brings out a side to her that drowns out his comprehensive thought with fiery kisses and insistent touches. She tears down his resolve so completely. Is there any way he can deny her when she’s like this, hands impatiently tearing at the buttons of his shirt?

Omegas are commonly seen as the weaker class, apparently only superior in their fertility, and abused by the archaic roots of their world. Killian had never understood the prejudice held against them, even as a boy. He’d been born into privilege and he accepted that. As the son of an Alpha father, sibling to an Alpha brother and an Alpha himself, he will never be able to comprehend the struggle that comes with being born with a target on your back. He will never know the pain of suffering through twelve heats a year or the immense risk that other Alphas pose on a regular basis when you’re unclaimed. He will never know the sheer unadulterated bliss that Emma feels when he fills her so full of his come that it leaks around his pulsing knot, mixed with her sheer slick on its path down her thighs. He will never know just how much trust she puts in him when his teeth graze over the patch of skin along her neck that calls for his bite. But, for her, he tries.

“Stop thinking.” She growls, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth, utilising probably more force than intended. Her hands make their way under his shirt in an attempt to push it off his shoulders but it doesn’t budge far, the buttons she’d missed in her haste straining to accommodate. Her eyes, emerald and dangerous, flutter shut as he lets the hand that is not supporting the small of her back slip beneath her sodden underwear. The scent of her hits him stronger now and all he can do is bite back the groan in his chest. She’s soft and silken and he can see how absolutely consumed she is by her pleasure in the way she relaxes into his touch. Her lips part against his mouth in a gasp. He wants.

“I came all this way and that’s all you have to say?”

“Killian, please.” Her thighs clench his hips as he dips one finger into her centre. He’ll never tire of this. Feeling her twitch and whine as his deft fingers work their magic. She unravels beneath his touch and it’s maddening. Teasing her, caressing her core and revelling in the slick that spills beneath his ministrations, builds his own arousal in an agonising burn. Her lips take his again in a breathless kiss, a mess of mouths and tongues and teeth. Fire rushes through his veins as he fights the urge to fuck her senseless right there. As much as he wants to slam her against the white varnished wood and take her so deep she can’t help but cry out, he doesn’t fancy a repeat of the last time they’d been so impatient. He’d awoken on the floor, half-hard, after literally fucking the door off its hinges and knocking himself out on the frame on the way down. Emma had laughed about it for weeks after and the apartment block billed him for the repairs.

Beds are easier to replace and Killian has fucked her in his fair share of them.

He smells her orgasm approaching before it hits. He always does. The heady scent of her sex becoming richer, sweeter, thicker before he dips a second finger inside her cunt, pushing deeper to massage the rough spot that sends her over the edge every single time.

Emma can’t help but run her mouth as she comes. Shaking in his hold, fists balled in his hair, cursing his name between kisses until she’s spent and boneless. Each expletive sending a throb to his cock, straining against his jeans. Such foul language doesn’t come to her naturally but Killian drags it out of her with each circle of his index finger against her clit.

“Such a filthy mouth, Swan.” He smirks, breaking away to press a kiss to her neck. The resulting shiver that creeps down her spine has her clench around him once more, a wave of slick coating his hand. Her shorts are ruined, completely soaked through. It makes it all the easier to tear them off as he removes his hand from her folds, seams protesting as the fabric splits, revealing her in her entirety to him. Pink and wet and fucking delectable.

He’s wearing too many clothes.

“I can’t help it.” She shrugs, still breathless, fingers returning to the buttons on his shirt that she’d missed in her insistence to run her hands through the thick hair there. “Blame it on my heat, or your fingers, or both.”

Killian chuckles. His chest jostling her ever so slightly where they’re still stood. With practised ease, he begins the short distance to the bedroom.

“I’d love to take all the credit but you were already halfway gone by the time I got here.” Together they shrug the shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the hardwood floor as they make their way. Emma leans into him then, letting her head rest against his chest, just over his heart. He knows she’s got more in her and the next wave will take them both in its wake, but for now, he’s content to just hold her as she recovers, her breathing falling into sync with his own heartbeat, avoiding the cluttered glass coffee table as he walks her through the living room.

“I’ve come four times today.” Her breath is hot against his nipple, which hardens with the combined weight of her confession almost as if commanded to do so. He stops short of her bedroom, adjusting her weight in his arms so he can open the door without disturbing her further from her rest. “I was hoping I’d be able to get it out of my system without you. I know you’ve been busy.”

“Emma, love, don’t be stupid. That’s why you keep me around.” Pressing a kiss to her crown, inhaling the soft vanilla of the shampoo that she loves so much, he steps inside the room she calls her own. It’s messy, not as much as it used to be but more than he’d allow his own space to get, and he has to tiptoe between abandoned outfits she’d probably tried on that morning before deciding that work was just off the cards today. It’s never advisable for Omegas to be in public for their heat, claimed or otherwise. He can imagine her pouting in the mirror, hair wet, arousal rearing its head between her thighs, unsatisfied and wanting. “I can make you feel good. I want to.”

“Ah yes, my own personal fuck toy. How chivalrous of you.” He dips her onto the bed, ignoring her sarcasm, and pushes aside the toys she’d clearly been using, still sticky with her essence – a couple of small vibrators, a string of anal beads and the knot toy he’d supplied her with over a year ago. She’d admitted to him that it didn’t get much use. She’s come to rely on him for satisfaction, these days. Why would she need a toy? Killian adds washing them to his mental to-do list because she will definitely forget once he’s done with her. Emma unfurls her legs from around his waist and lets her back slump against the mattress with a soft thud. In the soft light from her bedroom window, he gets a good full look at her core, fresh slick coating her outer lips in a delicious glaze. Maybe later he’ll get the chance to feast upon it, eating like a man starved in that way that makes her toes curl and her voice hoarse from screaming.

“If that’s what the lady wishes?” He hums, dragging his eyes from her cunt to her tits. When had she removed her–his shirt? The swell of them is enough to drive him wild, their pert buds the same soft dusky rose as her mouth. He leans down to take one into his mouth, not missing the relaxed sigh it earns him. Looking up at her from this angle makes his cock stir, her head thrown back, long pale neck exposed in a subconscious invitation. He squeezes at her neglected nipple with slick coated fingers, trailing patterns into the quickly pebbled flesh there.

Fuck, he wants to mark her. Take her as his over and over again. He wants to fuck her through his rut and show her how deep under his skin she has managed to crawl. Every inch of him yearns for her. Every second they’re not like this, together, entwined, is agony. He can’t let himself think that way, not like this. Emma is not an object, not a thing to be possessed and claimed. She’s headstrong and stubborn as any Alpha. She belongs to no one.

Her moans sear into his mind, a permanent brand, a reminder of everything he cannot have.

Tonight, like many other nights, he pretends she belongs to him.

“This lady definitely wishes.” She sighs, bringing him back to reality. Somehow she always seems to ground him, despite being the root of all his desire. A smile, a laugh, a cry. It always brings him right back. Back to her. She squeezes at his shoulders, pulling him up so she can kiss him again. It’s languid and warm, passion simmering beneath her tongue as it finds its way into his mouth. These are his favourite. The kind of kisses that burn slowly, growing deeper and deeper until they’re both left gasping for air. He could kiss like this forever. Suffocation be damned. Her hands slide down his chest, through the hair she loves to toy with so much, down across his firm stomach. The muscles there flutter under her touch and Killian’s cock aches to be released from its denim prison. She seems to notice just as he does. Her hand makes the final stretch to where he wants her most, cupping him roughly and giving a hard grasp. He snarls, animalistic desire shooting through him. It’s inevitable, the call of her heat claiming him fully. She loves it this way the most. Rough and hard. Alpha.

One eyebrow quirks up, behind a mop of messy blonde hair, with kiss bruised lips and eyes so dark they’re almost black. A challenge. He loves a challenge.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?”

Their fingers clash while trying to unbuckle his belt, caught between the dark thatch of hair there and the soft leather. Emma retreats first, choosing instead to utilise the belt loops and tug him to his knees between her spread thighs. Laced with urgency, their kisses grow sloppy, insistent and chaotic. Killian struggles to shove his jeans low enough to let his cock spring free. They don’t have time for anything else. She needs him now. Slick glistens as it trails down her thighs, the sheets below soaked with it and every hitch of her breath drives him wild with hunger. Everything smells of it, the inescapable musk of her sex drowning his last rational thought.

His Omega needs him.

“Killian.”

Pushing into her is better than anything he could have ever prepared for. Years ago, the first time she’d invited him to bed, he’d popped his knot embarrassingly fast from just the sheath of her alone. The feeling tight and foreign. He’d never had an Omega before. He hadn’t been prepared for the intensity of her heat. It hit him like a train. It still does. They’d laughed it off, her face pressed into his neck, and he’d vowed to make up for it in other ways, ensuring she was thoroughly satisfied by the time the swelling in his cock had dispersed half an hour later.

He’s had more than enough practice now, though. She’s hot and wet and still so impossibly tight. Slick gathers on the tip of his length as he slides true. All of him. Emma doesn’t even flinch, taking it all in her stride and demanding more with small cants of her hips, breathy moans falling from her lips with every inch. Killian was fucked from the get-go. With shallow pants, she writhes against him, legs winding their way around his hips again, only wanting him to move deeper, faster, harder as he tortures her with devilishly slow thrusts. The drag of his thick cock against her insides draws out the most sinful sounds and Killian can’t help but slow to take it all in, hands gripping her hips.

“You’re desperate for me, aren’t you?” Arousal coats his voice, deep and gravelly. An entirely different man to who he was five minutes ago. Not a man at all. An Alpha. Killian the Mechanic didn’t have the balls to so brazenly ask that question. Killian the Alpha definitely did. Emma’s resulting moan at his speech makes him throb, his cock dragging deliciously against that spot inside her that makes her only cry out for more. It’s intoxicating to watch himself disappear completely inside her sopping heat, folds moving to accommodate his size. “You fucked yourself over and over wishing it was me. Wishing I was here to fill your greedy wet cunt. Am I right?”

She can’t even form words; head thrown back, hair splayed out in a crown of gold against soft white sheets, eyes fluttering shut and mouth falling open as she allows herself to sink into bliss. Like this, a slave to her desire, she’s otherworldly. This is his power.

He takes her chin in his hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes while his hips snap with a little more force. Not as rough as she really wants it but rich with the promise of more. Always more. “Answer me, Omega.”

“Y-yes,” Hearing the words break through a deep moan only fuels him further. Knowing he’s responsible for every ounce of her pleasure proving to be a greater turn-on than anything else ever could be, flames of his impending orgasm teasing at his base. He might be the Alpha but she holds all the power here. “But it wasn’t enough.” She sighs, teeth catching her bottom lip as his cock drags almost fully out, taking a second to nudge her clit and the slick gathered there before plunging straight back in, deeper, drawing a sob from her in return. “Fuck, Killian! It’s never enough.”

“And why’s that, love?” His voice is calmer than he feels. He leans down to press a kiss between her breasts, letting his tongue drag in the valley between them. Salt blooms on his tongue along with the unmistakable tang of her. All five of his senses are under siege by the very presence of the Omega – his Omega – in his arms; her sharp taste, her rich scent, her needy touch, her fucked voice and the sight of her completely at his mercy all adding to the sensory overload that has his own release building low in his gut. It tears at whatever shred of control he has left, leaving only raw impulse behind.

“Because it’s not you, Alpha.”

With that, Killian breaks.

He pulls out completely, cool air hitting his length, barely noticing Emma’s cry of protest. She clenches around the open air, slick leaking from the space left in his wake. Seeing her like this, open and wanting, has electricity fizzing beneath his skin. The primal urge to take her over and over clawing deep in his belly. Her thighs tremble, still clinging to his hips despite the distance he tries to put between them, resisting his attempts to untangle her crossed ankles from behind his back. He wants to slide in, take her until she’s filled with nothing but him, and ride it out that way until they’re both spent and softening in the glow. He wants to tell her he loves her while they’re tied together. He wants to sink his teeth into the juncture of her neck and be hers until his last breath. He wants to be her Alpha. Wholly. But he can’t.

He can fuck her but he can’t love her and, in some ways, that’s worse.

She drags her nails through the carpet of hair at his chest, noticing his hesitation and striving to bring him back from the edge of madness. Back to her. With one touch, she’s expressing more than she ever could with words, not that she could even form words at this point, her breath coming in gasps. Totally ravished. It says Are you okay? and I’m here and, atop slick soiled sheets and freely given moans, Mine.

It does nothing to ground him now. Nothing can.

One word pulses through Killian’s mind. Instinctual. Carnal. Feral. Slamming her ankles to the bed and flipping her onto her stomach with abundant force, it rips from him with no hesitation.

“Present.”

In another life, maybe it’d be different. Maybe he’d be a gentle lover, revelling in every inch of her skin, tasting wherever his tongue could reach. Maybe he’d be able to worship her in the way he wants, with prayers dying on his lips, finding god in her thighs and the devil in her curses.

In another life, he would not have to hide the fact that Emma holds his heart in her palm, deft fingers holding the ability to destroy him entirely. But that’s what he does. He hides, always, behind filthy words and hungry kisses, giving her everything she wants in the form of his thick cock coaxing her to completion again and again. She loves it, informing him in screams when pleasure hits. He loves her, irrevocably. It’s too easy to forget that they’re nothing more than friends when she’s like this.

Pushing to her hands and knees, Emma slides her hips up from the bed with a hiss of yes alpha. Slick, viscous and rich, leaks further down her legs. She flips her hair over one shoulder as she looks to him, revealing the curve of her spine from her arse to her nape and the scars of their previous encounters. They litter the pale expanse of her back, evidence of where he’d clawed too hard at her flesh and drawn blood. Regret tinges the memories a little, but not enough to stop him. Killian lets his eyes drag over her, ready and willing and calling out for him. Half lidded eyes, lust glazed and begging, find his as his gaze reaches her face. She’s beautiful, ethereal in a way he can’t quite describe with words, and like this, submissive and yet still fully in control, he falls just a little bit more.

“Please, just fuck me.”

Did he ever stand a chance?

He sheathes himself in seconds with no resistance, a snarl pulled from his throat by the overbearing heat of her dripping cunt. It’s almost too much and his fingers grip at her hips; the stark slap of skin on skin, broken moans, and laboured creak of the bed an overwhelming cacophony of sound that stokes the flame in his belly. The telltale signs of his release tug at his periphery but he staves it off. What kind of Alpha would he be if he didn’t ensure his Omega was satisfied first?

No. Not his.

Bypassing the thought completely, he slides a hand from her hip to her core, gliding over the engorged nub he finds there. One pinch. That’s all it takes for Emma to collapse face-first into the bed with a scream caught by her pillows, arse still proudly presented because she’s nothing if not obedient. Her orgasm hasn’t claimed her just yet, but it’s close; insides gripping him impossibly tighter.

“You're naughty, Omega, presenting like this, arse up and suffocating me with the scent of you,” Killian tries his best to enunciate, channelling every modicum of control he has left into keeping his voice deep and authoritative. The Alpha. Her Alpha. It calls to her basest nature, making her writhe with want. It must work. Along with the caresses of his fingers against where they’re joined, it has her insides fluttering. Any noises she makes are caught in the sheets below and he’s glad for that. Anything more would be a death sentence. “But you know how your Alpha likes to fuck you, don't you?"

No. Not hers.

Emma turns her head to the side, sweeping blonde waves shifting just enough that he can see her face as he fucks her with renewed vigour. The broken please cuts like ice down his spine, before it breaks off in a whine. It’s too much for her, being filled and stroked and brought to the edge. And yet, she wouldn’t have it any other way; always urging him on when Killian ever dared to fuck her slowly. She delights in the aches and bruises he leaves behind.

He could fuck her for hours like this, pounding into her with reckless abandon and not a care in the world but, perhaps selfishly, he wants more. He wants and wants and wants. He wants an Omega to call his own, to fill up and care for, he wants to nest together through her heat and shower her in gifts and make her breakfast every day. Instead of some faceless Omega in the fleeting moments he lets himself think this way, it’s her. It’s always her.

He snaps hips in time with Emma’s hurried heartbeat. Staccato thrusts hitting her just right as his fingers match the pace.

“Alpha!” She sobs with her eyes clenched shut, balled fists clutched in sheets. He can feel her teetering on the edge. The precipice of her orgasm stirs his own and, when she screams at the fervent attention to her clit, her whole body shudders. He’s close, so close, fucking her through her climax as she convulses around him. The scent of her release permeates his skin and fogs his mind in a way that nothing else can. It’s heady and seductive and her.

“Emma.”

His knot comes, to no surprise, as quickly as she did. Swelling out from the base of his cock and dragging a moan from her spent form at the familiar stretch of it. His thrusts slow, movement stilted by the knot that secures him, emptying himself within her centre without a second thought. She hums as he fills her with warmth, eyes fluttering open just a little. Her smile is dangerous and his breath catches in his throat. Generally speaking, she’s fucked; hair even more of a mess than when he arrived, lips bruised from kisses and bites, sweat beading at her temples and in the dip of her collarbones. She’s fucked and when she looks at him like that, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth, he can’t help but groan as his cock stirs. How does she even have this effect on him? Even now, with his knot still solid inside her. With laboured breaths, he gently manoeuvers them onto their sides so they’re curled together on the bed. His jeans, still shoved just below his hips, making it slightly more difficult than it should be.

Emma relaxes against him for a while, resting against his arm tucked up under her head with that same secret smile. Only the sound of their own breathing breaking the silence between them. She’d be sated for a couple of hours after that, residual energy from her orgasm would see her through until the early evening. With a little help from his friend, double shot espresso, he’d be ready to go another round by then. If she asks him to stay, that is. Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t. He doesn’t force it. She can handle herself. It’s one of the things he likes so much about her.

Time passes agonisingly slowly and, as much as Killian could stay here forever with Emma Swan pulled close against him, he’s lost feeling in one of his arms and both of his legs.

“My Alpha?” The smirk is audible in her tone. Killian freezes, his whole body tensing beneath the weight of her words. She snuggles back against him, dragging his other arm over her waist, entwining their fingers together.

“What?” He can feel her chuckle against him and it jostles his softening cock, knot still full but well on its way to receding.

“You know how your Alpha likes to fuck you.” She grunts in a terrible impersonation of his dirty talk. Heat spreads from his chest to his face, a blanket of shame at his own outbursts. Now sated, his primarily Alpha urges were all in check, leaving Killian alone to deal with the consequences. Leaving Killian to explain why, in not as many words, he’d told his best friend that he was hers.

“Got caught up in the heat of the moment, is all.” He feebly tries to brush it off, but she turns in his arms to look him in the eyes. With hair splayed out in a halo of gold, there’s no fear or anger or shame on her face. Only the same smile. Any other protests turn to ash on his tongue. He wants to tell her the truth but he couldn’t bear the rejection. Having part of something was better than having none of it at all. Right? “You know how it is.”

“Maybe.” She pouts.

They lie together in silence for a little while longer, her fingertips tracing idle patterns on his wrist. He doesn’t know how much time goes by but he’s holding his breath for most of it. Cautious. He doesn’t want to fuck this up. If this is the only way he can have Emma, in friendship and in heat relief, he will take it. His knot is almost fully receded when she next speaks, turning and pressing a kiss to the column of his throat as he fully slips from her, soft and wet.

“Maybe next time my Alpha can let me ride him senseless?” She purrs, fingers tangling in the hair coating his chest. Killian doesn’t know how he has any strength left in him but, somehow, with Emma’s lips at his throat and her voice in his head, he does. Rolling her onto her back just as they were joined earlier, he hovers above her. She’s still smiling and it’s beautiful, one eyebrow raised as if to challenge him on it.

“Yours?” He almost chokes on the word, knowing that this step would be one they will never return from. She nods, shuffling so she can lean up to kiss him softly. It’s barely a press of lips, Killian too busy processing her words to be able to respond. “Really? Not just...?”

“I’m not ready to be marked yet, Killian, but It’d be nice to keep you around for more than… well… this. What do you say?” His forehead falls against hers, noses pressed together in a sweetness Killian never thought he’d be able to witness. She cups his cheek with her palm and he meets her halfway for another kiss, firmer but no less sweet. They come together, over and over again, taking their pleasure all over her apartment until he’s not sure where Emma ends and he begins. He would never have it any other way.

Killian doesn’t make it home that night.

He doesn’t make it home all week, actually. Rob and Will do not burn down the workshop but they also don’t finish the refurb work on Graham’s Mini and the suspicious head-shaped dent on the bonnet had yet to be buffed out.

Liam is going to kill him.