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love-toxin · 1 year

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Retrieval - entry I

plot: after escaping the horrors of Los Iluminados, a piece of your heart is still stuck in that desolate place. you won't truly be able to rest until you find him--or until you put him down like the monster you wish you'd saved him from.

(cws: post-canon divergence, re4make spoilers, yandere!plagas!leon, fem!agent!reader, guns & blunt weapons, blood, gore & injuries, violence, grief, funerals, pining [chapter smut cws: wet dreams, mild choking, possessiveness, unprotected]

wc: 5.3k

(future entries to come! <3)

No matter how much time passes, you're certain this place will always reek of blood and death. It will always be the place that you lost the person most dear to you, and in such a vile, cruel way that it still haunts your darkest nightmares.

It's been awhile since then, but it all still feels the same when you step down from the car and let the door shut with an unapologetic thud. The air hangs heavy and thick with humidity, and although the distant stench of rot is lesser this time around, it still lurks in the background of your senses like a shadow creeping by the windows of a house. The trees hang low and sway gently as you pass them, crows beckoning you deeper into the brush with their croaking trills echoing all around you. Aside from a pitiful line of cautionary police tape strung across an iron gate, even the entryway and the path leading into the village all look exactly as they did weeks ago.

The last time your feet hit the dirt here, only Leon had been your much-needed company in your venture. You'd walked through the mud and ran through the mist together; searching the lodge and being chased into the heart of the village had only been the beginning. His breathing had been the thing to keep you calm then, of all things. Those heavy pants when he scrambled through doors and soft puffs of his chest when it was a touch too quiet; it reminded you that he was alive, and saved you from having to glance over and pray in the seconds between that he wasn't being carved into a bloody stump by a Ganados.

But all that? That was a long time ago. It feels like a lifetime, and yet neither of those timelines are the truth–really, it's barely been a month since you and Leon had been separated, but it still feels like years since you've seen him.

The scent of charcoal pulls you away from the memory of him as you draw close to the circle of houses, your gun out of its holster the moment you cross underneath the main gate. You at least have the sense not to go slinging it around when you hear the crackle of twigs in the underbrush, though the sound that resembles a gasp has you eyeing the forest to your left…just long enough to watch the offending group of birds chitter and take flight suddenly up and away from the trees as you draw close. The policemen that had accompanied you here have long since granted you their goodbyes, their eyes dark and fearful at the sight of this village looming in the distance before they had driven off in a frantic hurry. When you think about it you can't really blame them, not with them knowing the unfortunate fate of the two men they had probably rubbed shoulders with back at the station. Knowing that both of them had been made sacrifice for no better reason than violence and power.

That would've been you and Leon once upon a time, if Umbrella and the virus and everything hadn't screwed it all up and blown it to pieces. Sometimes you daydream about what it could've been like at RPD, but most times it's too painful to even consider and you just end up drowning your sorrows in a bottle of liquor instead. Leon would be admonishing you for dealing with it in that way and he would've been a total hypocrite for it, but he hasn't been here to do so. The thought that he won't ever be again fills you with so much dread you can feel it in each step you take into this dilapidated heap of pig slop and manure.

It's been over a month since you've been here last, about 37 days if you've been marking off your calendar correctly. You had to take into account the retrieval, your hospital stay, and the few days that seemed to meld into each other when you'd slept almost every hour away in recovery, but altogether it totals 37 days since you last stepped foot on this soil. Over five weeks since you last saw Leon, and only a couple days since you gave a eulogy at his funeral. It had all felt fake and pitiful even with you having organized it yourself–most of the people there were the reasons he even came to this disgusting place, all those government agents and well-to-do politicians that ate up yours and Leon's survivor stories and demanded you join the military's special ops. They should be the ones paying the price in the grave, not Leon.

But as you look around now, there really isn't much to speak of in the first place, now that you feel the sense of urgency wane and lower your pistol in the wake of dead silence. Aside from the bullet holes, the crumbled tower, and the blasted-out windows that cake the dirt with glass, there's not many signs that you and Leon had even treaded ground here. It's getting later than you'd like based on the position of that hot, Spanish sun, though. You've got to get moving and quit moping around this ghost town if you want to make any progress on his retrieval before night falls.

This isn't a trip down memory lane, after all. You came here with your own rescue mission in mind; you're here to find Leon's body, and you're prepared to give him the mercy he deserves if your suspicions about his supposed death are correct. Because you can't keep living with that memory of him in your head, that version of Leon burdened with black veins and vermillion eyes and a pained gait as he tried to kill you. When there weren't enough injections of the suppressant to go around, he gave you his own–and when it came time for you to go under the knife, Leon insisted on you and Ashley going first even when he had a death grip on the lever, the Plagas taking over him quick enough that he knew exactly what he was doing. Leon gave his life for you, Ashley, and Luis to live–and you've taken on the job of returning the favour, whether it means dragging him home in a body bag to give him a worthy burial, or putting a bullet in his head and ending the monster you never wanted to see him become.

"La Americana!"

But the moment you take another step to climb over the rubble of the church, a voice shouting from behind you sends a chill rocketing right up your spine. You thought you would only hear it again in your nightmares–but no, as soon as you turn on your heel, your eyes scan over a mob of Ganados shambling right for you. Drooling, bloody, rotting villagers wielding their pitchforks and sickles, and in that momentary panic that freezes you to the ground, a cold feeling erupts inside your chest that you've never experienced before. Acting on base instinct alone you make a mad dash for the house on your right, but you're left skidding to a stop and backing away just as quick when another monster lunges out of the doorway and makes a swipe. You're being cornered, trapped, with nobody left to save you like they did before.

This is wrong. It feels wrong, it sounds wrong, it's all wrong. This is exactly what happened before, but that was a nightmare you fought through and survived. You shouldn't be here again. Why are you here again? Why are you being so stupid to feed yourself to the same monsters that took your Leon from you? Why haven't you learned your lesson? Why?

When the first gets close enough to strike, you barely even register the hot, vile presence of its foul breath on your skin. Your muscles tighten and you swing indiscriminately, the butt of your pistol smashing into its temple with a force you didn't even know you were capable of. The scythe in its hand is halfway to hitting the ground before you're crossing the distance to the second one, movements almost robotic as you empty half your magazine into its forehead and don't stop until you're standing over it. For some reason, the gore and the blood splattering over you doesn't disturb you like it should. It doesn't even feel…real.

You're all to blame for this. This is all your fault.

Whether those thoughts are self-inflicting or self-soothing, they plague your mind in a constant, changing loop as you stagger from villager to villager. There's no other option; either fight or die, because reason won't get you anywhere but closer to your own grave. It's not even worth running at this point because they'll just chase you down, and you want them to just leave you alone more than you even want to live.

Getting hit doesn't feel real. Watching the Ganados choke on metal doesn't feel real. Not even your gun clicking empty and burning hot in your hands feels real, even when your brow furrows and you whip it at the nearest monster with a grunt that sounds more feral than ferocious. It's a slaughter but you can't tell that time has passed, or that you've gained bruises from the beating you've taken, or even that you've been blowing off the faces of people who were probably just people once. It just doesn't matter in that short, fury-driven span of time, not until you have nothing more to attack and you blink yourself awake with a hatchet gripped in your hands, soaked from head to toe in rotting blood.

With one final, blood-curdling scream from the deepest pit of your stomach, you throw your arm down and send the weapon flying across the ground like a tempestuous child. The pain, fury, and grief have been building up inside you for long you've forgotten what it feels like to be free, what it once felt like to laugh away your troubles when they got too big to deal with. Now you've been planning your best friend's funeral on the days you don't drink yourself into a stupor, and nothing matters anymore. This was a stupid idea and all you've done is set yourself up for a bigger, stupider failure than you've already proven you could accomplish. Right now, the best relief would come if you just dropped dead.

….But it doesn't come, even after you've fallen to your knees and sobbed into your hands. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. You count each breath, but each of them are just as heavy and laboured as the last, never slowing or getting shallower. If anything, you feel more alive as your senses come back and you cringe at the blood starting to crust over your skin and clothes. Taking your hands away, all that fills them is a sheen of dark, wine-deep red, splattered with tears that sting just as much as your skin that's been hacked with small, shallow cuts and bruises. As the episode passes, your desire to get up is stronger than your want to just lay down and relinquish your strength.

So you press on. Not for want of something better, but for the simple fact that you have nowhere else to go but forward. You put yourself into this mess, and as you can hear Leon's voice in your head, "You can get yourself out of it."

So you walk. You scoop up your gun from the ground and wipe the blood from the handle with your shirt. You stumble over the chunks of stone and rubble that litter your path, weaving through the half-open doors that haven't leaned right since Leon had first kicked them in or shot them open. You just keep walking until the gate with that familiar symbol comes into view, and upon pushing it open you're met with the sight of a sea of graves and dead grass–and a murder of crows watching you through the tree branches while they await a new body to pick at.

Seeing the church looming over the hilltop is enough to give you a chill. Maybe the graves are helping with that, standing as crooked and crumbling as they were before, but whatever it is about that place just plagues you with a sense of unease. Each step up the hill has you on guard, peeking around to see whether more Ganados will come out–but it's just as eerily quiet as you expected it to be, and you don't even spot much more than the crows until you're past the gate and standing on the front step of the chapel. To your fortune, the door's still unlocked–as you hoped it would be, considering all that you and Leon had to endure to get it open the first time. You'll never forget that feeling of your stomach sinking when you watched him retch up all that blood over the side of the boat, nor the heat of his tight grip as he had grabbed your wrist and whimpered in pain before slipping into unconsciousness on your lap.

Life had been scary enough then, but in some way seeing Leon go through the Plagas infection hit you harder than any other mission you'd gone through…especially since you know now that he would never be cured. He was just so strong in the face of everything, even during Raccoon City, when he truly had no idea what he was doing. He had such a kind heart that he would do anything for anybody. Even if he could be a hardass at times, he was pure.

Thinking about Leon always ends up leading you to memories of his funeral, especially so as your shoulders relax and you step into this church that somewhat resembles the one that housed it. You drop your bag on the nearest pew and let it spill over on to its side, and when your wallet tumbles out, your eyes pass over the picture inside that makes another memory pop into your head.

"This world is undoubtedly worse off without Leon. It won't ever be the same, and I…I'll miss you, Sancho."

Luis hadn't more than dabbed at his eyes at the service, but he'd hugged you so tightly at the reception he could've broken your bones with ease. You sat at a pew just like this one and held your hands between you throughout the eulogies, quiet and empty while Ashley cried her eyes out a few rows ahead. Other than a few close friends from the academy, a couple surviving members of RPD, and a handful of people Leon got to know in the military, the rest of the service was populated by complete strangers to you. Including the president himself, whose hand you openly refused to shake when he approached you with his "condolences". Without Luis there to guide you away to go get some complimentary dinner, you might have told the leader of your country where exactly he could stuff his condolences.

At the very least you can get some healing by actually burying your best friend, you think as you check the perimeter of the church to ensure its security. If you succeed, which you're hoping might actually happen if you can keep the grief and overwhelming anxiety to a minimum.

"Mh?"

Perhaps it's a good sign already, but going unnoticed by you up until now you spot something out of your peripheral that looks out of place here–and when you step up to it to take a look, sitting at the crest of the church where the podium would be, is what looks to be a washbasin that might have come from one of the nearby houses. Peering over the lip it looks to be filled with nothing but clear water…and when you dip a finger in, a sigh escapes you when you feel how warm it is. There's even a towel hanging over the nearest pew that you could've sworn wasn't there earlier, but it's getting harder to see with all the blood caking your eyelashes. And not one to turn away a perfectly good miracle, you're all too happy to strip off your clothes and dunk your head, hair, and limbs into a clean, semi-refreshing bath.

While you scrub the dust, dirt, and dried entrails from your skin, your mind wanders yet again into another world–the one you lived in before, so blissfully unaware of how bad the outcome could truly be. You'd met Leon for the first time at his debriefing in the RPD, when he'd been quietly optimistic with that baby face and a well of enthusiasm that had come out in the strength of his handshake. Marvin introduced you first as his immediate superior because you'd been in that same position before; you had been the rookie from out of town the year prior, and aside from the beaming sense of pride at moving up a peg in the force, you also liked how sweet Leon was.

He'd greeted you with honorifics you didn't need, smiled when you gave him a tour, and not once did he ever scoff or roll his eyes when you were giving him advice before he had even started. You noticed him because he was new, but also because he respected you and pretty much everyone else with barely any hesitation. In his plainclothes surrounded by decorated officers he treated everyone he met like a friend, and although Marvin had expressed concern about him being a little naive once he went home, you remember that moment as you watched him get into his car, and you remember thinking that the world–and Raccoon City–needed more people like that. You liked to think that you always knew he was a hero at heart.

Your brow softens as the water starts running clear down your body, the basin filled with blood and muck that you've been scrubbing off your skin until it's raw. The tiredness is setting in now from the plane ride and the tension, and all you want to do is sleep–but a sudden start and pain flooding through your abdomen has you alert and gripping the edge of the basin. Easing your chest out of the way to look down, you watch in frustrated horror as your fingers brush by the opening of a much more significant wound than the scrapes and bruises just beneath your breast down towards your stomach. At only about a half inch wide and five or more inches long the cut isn't severe, it doesn't even seem like it's been touched by the filth you've been doused in as you pour a little more water over it. But now that you've noticed it the sting is much more palpable, and with no desire to have it infected and die a slow death you fumble for your pitiful first aid kit and work away at closing the wound. Strips of medical tape and gauze are about all you can do, though the process is slow and awkward with you trying not to stretch or strain it too much for it to hurt worse. Just your luck. It's only the first day. You just count yourself fortunate that Leon isn't here to see this because you know he'd both fuss over you and tease you to no end…although you do find yourself glancing around more as you fix yourself up, your mind on high alert while you're in this state of vulnerability. For some reason you do feel watched, although with no sounds or odd noises to tip you off you're tempted to assume you're relatively safe. You can only hope that you are, because rarely have you ever been so sluggish and desperate for rest than you feel right now and you'd rather not wake up with an axe in your skull.

When you're done and with your clothes still hanging wet over the pew, you've got little choice but to tug on an old shirt and thin shorts from the bottom of your bag, the spare set of clothes an absolute emergency item that you're glad you at least brought this time. The summer heat's still strong so hopefully it doesn't get too cold in the night, the darkness of which you can spot creeping over the horizon through the stained glass windows. Luckily for you the layout is fairly simple and you'd already rediscovered the upstairs room where Ashley had been kept in your search, so after pushing the pews with a grunt to block the doors, low windows, and finally the ladder to the second floor, you take your gathered things inside and set up on the thin, downy cover that will have to do as a mattress for tonight. You've certainly slept in worse, less secure places than this anyways.

But before you allow yourself the chance to drift off, your fingers stretch for your wallet again that you'd tucked back into your bag, the picture greeting you once more when you flip it open and slide it out. Leon's beaming face smiles back at you, and your gentle self stands beside him six years younger in front of the RPD's grand foyer statue. Him in his jacket and you in your uniform, waving and grinning at the camera with his arm around you like nothing bad ever existed in the world. You knew in your heart that day would be the start of something different, but just how different wouldn't occur to you until it was too late. The picture sits tightly in your hand for immeasurable moments that melt into one another, up until your eyes finally flutter closed and you drift off in neverending silence.

When sleep finally comes, so do the dreams. And in them, you get to see Leon in a much more visceral way than the pictures on your desk or the smell of cologne on his jacket. The walls behind you look to be the same as the room you'd fallen asleep in, but in smooth fashion a hand cups your chin and pulls your gaze back from the floor to the one who wants it the most.

Leon looms above you on bended knees, his chest bare and hair tousled as if he'd yanked off his shirt in a hurry–he's always like that, always in a rush to begin only to take his sweet, agonizing time when he's actually performing. His lips look bitten and flushed like he's been kissing you already, but maybe that's because he's been nibbling on it like he is now out of shyness, or maybe embarrassment.

"I missed you." Your voice comes out muffled as it usually does, and Leon shifts around, his hands dwarfing your knees in comparison as he moves them to fit himself between them.

"I'm right here, sweetheart." His smile lights up your world with a glow, he makes it brighter even though a shadow still casts itself over half his face from the lantern on the other side of the room. "I'm always here for you."

But you died. Those words play on your lips, but you don't allow them to slip out. If you do, the dream may end here and now, and you can't afford to let such a precious moment of affection pass you by. "I love you, Leon." You whimper instead, and he gasps with pure, undiluted need as he makes that push inside you that he's been waiting for all night–that soft, wet heat welcoming his stiff self in like it always does and always will. The pressure stings at first, it beats hard in your chest and between your legs where he lies, but it's a forgiving ache and not a dull pain. When Leon kisses you again, it all disappears just as quickly–even quicker when he eventually starts to move.

"I love you more. I'll always love you, even after you're gone." He whispers against your lips, breathing his sentiment in and capturing yours on every exhale back. His fingertips leave trails of searing desire up your flesh, warm hands guiding your arms higher to rest around his neck and keep him as close as you can. You wouldn't need to, you don't have to, but he wants to be closer and you know you do too. Being inside you isn't enough for him, he needs you to want him, to desire him so deeply you can't fathom being apart. And you do, you always do, but you never seem to manage saying it out loud even in the throes of a perverse dream…but he can.

"I'll love you even if you leave me again. I'll fuck you so good you don't even think of doing it to me." Your lover pants, his pace picking up while your pleasure jumbles up into a heated, twisted mess. It seems like he's just entered you but at the same time it feels long, like you've been at his mercy for hours or days on end and the pressure keeps mounting higher and higher too fast. These fantasies usually end too soon for your liking but that's always because you're the one folding first, legs shaking and nails digging blunt marks into his arms when he makes you see stars. You're getting close to that mark now, yet you've barely even started.

Leon suddenly holds his hand up to your throat, fingers splayed over your delicate neck to squeeze it with a growl low in his throat. "Don't ever leave me again. Promise me." At your absent reply he tightens his grip harder, and the stars in your eyes have you choking out an answer that isn't good enough. "Promise me I'm the only one. Swear on your life you won't choose him over me."

"I-I promise! Leon, p-please, I promise! I-I'm coming to–c-cumming, Lee!" You cry, overwhelmed as you look up with wet, hazy eyes at the man you've always loved. The black veins start spreading across his golden skin, and his own gaze grows cold and dark before a sudden pulse turns his irises to a bright, piercing red. The killing blow comes with a chuckle as his lips curl into a sinister smirk, and his hips plummet down to meet yours in a cacophony of sounds that will echo in your mind for days on end, just before he stills and a shudder rolls through his body. As tight as he says you are, he never fails to press himself deep enough that he releases that pent-up desire as close to your womb as possible.

"Mine. All mine. You promised."

In the next moment of bliss settling in and a groan erupting from his throat, the world blots out into darkness and you jolt up from the floor with a start.

"Shit!"

The curse just flies from your mouth on instinct, the heat having disappeared and the pressure of a body on top of you making way for cold, aching emptiness. An uncomfortably warm, sticky wetness pooled between your legs has your attention immediately, but you've got no choice but to cringe and ignore the discomfort for now. Your breathing labours in your chest for minutes upon strained minutes before eventually quieting, and only then do you groan and shift in your spot to glance at the time just to remember that you aren't in your bed nor at home. As you would hope not, considering how stiff your back is from sleeping on the ground.

Without windows it's impossible to tell just how long you've slept, and a glance around the empty room offers no clues either. So when you manage to get up and stretch, the only thing you notice fluttering down from where you'd let go of it is that same photo of yourself and Leon–with that dream in the back of your head, however, you can't bring yourself to look at him and shove it back into the plastic holder in your wallet.

Still, with that being a normal practice for you being around the person you've been harbouring feelings for, that dream in itself was stranger than most. The last thing you want is to dwell on it right this minute, but Leon's words still echo in your head regardless; what did he mean when he spoke those words? Did they have a shred of truth to them, or were they just the frantic machinations of your brain still trying to make sense of his death?

Either way, you don't really want to know. You just want to leave this place altogether–but with that option out the window, the least you can do is leave this church and get some fresh air. With the skill and briskness of a trained agent, you gather your things and briskly slip on your newly-dried clothes downstairs, a few bites of a protein bar all you need to sustain you at least for a couple hours.

Upon pushing on the heavy entrance doors, the crack of light between them opens up into a bright horizon with the sun beating down on the soil, the burst of morning light blinding you temporarily as you take those first few steps outside. It's just long enough for your surroundings to come into focus that you get a whiff of the humid air–and in seconds your nose scrunches up, the foul stench of decay pervading your senses in the instant that it takes for you to take a look around.

Lying in droves around the cemetery, piles at the bottom of the hill, and strung in pieces all around your feet, are the bodies of the Ganados. The sight of it strickens you immediately with shock, but then nauseates you to the point of clutching your mouth to keep what little food you brought from coming back up.

The corpses have been strewn around like some sort of macabre dollhouse; lying in pieces splayed every which way, facedown in the grave dirt or strung up in the trees for the crows to peck at. Some have been gutted and others dismembered. A few have their heads missing. Intestines and gore lie in bloody wake around the site of the massacre, sticking to the soles of your boots from one step into the aftermath, and you want to vomit. God, how can you not want to vomit at the sight of it all? What god could be so cruel, even to monsters?

It's sickening to the point of panic–run, you just want to turn tail and run far, far away, but your destination hasn't been decided quite yet. Ideally you would have sat down with your map and plotted it out, found your next objective, maybe would've scoped out the closest place to rest once you're finished your search. You would've been thorough and confident like any rescuer should be.

But the cowardice in your heart screams louder than courage. In a moment, you're rushing down the path and running out the gate, frantic in shoving it open just enough to slide yourself through but too disturbed to look back towards the carnage. In seconds the church is far behind you, and in a matter of minutes you're on a new path you haven't yet considered the danger of.

All you know is that you want out of this place, you want to go home–even though home has been within arm's reach since you got here. It's never too far away, especially when you inevitably follow the road that leads right towards that infamous castle gate, and your destiny.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #plagas!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy x reader #yandere leon kennedy #yandere leon kennedy x reader #re4make #resident evil #resident evil 4 #spicy writing #ellie writes #series: retrieval #<- see this tag for chapter updates!#5k

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jrob64 · 1 month

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Pet for Rent , Chapter 4/4 (The Happy Ending) A CS Modern AU Story

And so we've reached the end of this little journey. Thank you for reading this story that was one way for me to move through my grief of losing Zeke. Some of you have mentioned that you've lost a pet and reading this has helped you, and that makes me very happy

This chapter earns the story its M rating, but the smut is bracketed by double rows of asterisks and can be easily skipped.

Thanks one more time to @hookedmom, who helped me work out the ending until it was satisfactory to both of us.

Chapter Summary: Henry, Emma, Killian and Winston get their happy ending.

Chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 (The Meet Cute) Ch. 2 (The Idea) Ch. 3 (The Adoption)

Rating: M (See note above)

Words: 9319

Also posted to Ao3 and ffn

Story begins under the cut

Winston’s routine between the two households was firmly established during the next month. He spent weekdays with Killian at his apartment, and evenings at Emma and Henry’s house. On the weekends, all four of them spent as much time together as possible.

Emma and Killian were both happy to see that the dog was housebroken and didn’t require a lot of extra work. He did crave attention at times and demonstrated some behaviors that made them think he still had some puppy in him, but the three humans were consistent in their training to stop him from jumping up and barking excessively.

From the very first night he spent with them, he didn’t need to be put outside until morning, and slept soundly on Henry’s bed. The boy and dog formed a fast friendship and once again, Emma had her happy-go-lucky son back. He kept a picture of Ernie on his dresser and mentioned how much he still missed him from time to time, but the joy of having a new dog was healing his heart.

On Fridays and Saturdays, Killian would stay for a few hours after Emma got Henry into bed. They watched television, had lengthy conversations and kissed…a lot. Once they were sure Winston was acclimated to his new environment, they were able to plan another date to eat out and see a movie.

Their relationship was deepening, but they had yet to declare their love for one another. Killian was sure of his feelings for Emma, but didn’t want to spook her by saying anything. Emma wanted to make sure what she felt wasn’t just an infatuation. She had only fallen in love with one other man and had her heart shattered into a million pieces. She couldn’t afford to be wrong about her feelings again, especially since she now had Henry to take into consideration.

The bond between Henry and Killian was getting stronger as well. The two of them watched sporting events on TV, played video games, worked on training Winston and built Lego sets together. Emma was happy her son had a male figure in his life now, but worried about what would happen if Killian decided to move away from Storybrooke.

The first substantial snowfall of the season happened on a Friday in early December. School was letting out at noon due to the storm, which put Emma in a bind. Ashley couldn’t watch him because she was away for the weekend. Emma had already arranged to take off work at three o’clock instead of five, but she wasn’t able to leave another three hours early.

When she considered who else would be willing to help, the next person who came to mind was Killian. As she quickly placed the call, she tapped her fingernails nervously on the desk.

He answered before she even heard it connect. “Swan! This is a nice surprise.”

“You might not think so when I tell you why I’m calling.”

She could hear the instant concern in his voice when he asked, “Is something wrong?”

“They’re letting school out in half an hour because of the weather and Ashley is out of town. I can’t get off work until three o’clock and I need somebody to pick Henry up and watch him until…”

“Calm down, Love,” he interrupted. “Winston and I will pick him up and take him home.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to take you away from your work…”

“No worries. I’m finished for the day because I already put in extra hours this week.”

“Oh, good,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’ll call the school and tell them you’ll be picking him up. Since you’re not an authorized pick-up person, you’ll have to go inside to fill out a form when you get there. I’ll also text Mary Margaret and let her know. I really, really appreciate this, Killian.”

“It’s truly no problem, Love. I’ll get Winston ready to go right now. We should be there in about twenty minutes. Will that work?”

“That’s perfect. I need to warn you that it’s probably going to be a bit chaotic in the school office because of the early release.”

“Duly noted. I’ll send you a text when I’ve collected Henry and we’re in the car ready to go home.”

“Thanks, again. You’re a lifesaver.”

Ending the call, she sent up a prayer of thanks and went back to work.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma was right about the chaos in the office. Killian had to wait several minutes before they could verify who he was and hand him a form to complete. Just as he was signing his name at the bottom, Mary Margaret ushered Henry in the door, along with two of her other students, whose parents were also waiting.

“Killian!” Henry cried, spotting him immediately.

“Hello, lad. Your mom asked me to pick you up.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Nolan told me. Thanks!”

“You’ll have to sign him out,” Mary Margaret explained, gesturing to the line of parents who were waiting to do that very thing. “Be careful driving home.”

“Thank you. You do the same,” Killian responded, stepping behind the last person in line.

Once Henry was properly signed out, they slipped and slid through the accumulating snow to where Killian had parked the car. Winston started barking from inside as soon as he caught sight of his boy.

While Henry greeted the dog and got himself buckled in, Killian texted Emma, then started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. So far, the snow was just making the roads slushy, but with such precious cargo in the back seat, he drove with extra caution.

By the time Emma arrived home three hours later, the snow was making travel hazardous. Killian heard her come in the door and paused the video game he and Henry were playing.

She was stomping off her boots and shaking the snow out of her hair when he greeted her. “Did you have any trouble, Love?”

“The roads are terrible and the snow is picking up, which means they’re only going to get worse.”

He helped her out of her coat and hung it on one of the hooks on the wall. As she sat on a bench to pull off her boots, he scratched behind his ear and said wistfully, “Perhaps I should just go home now, if they’re getting that bad.”

She glanced up at him, then back down as she finished her task. Once both of her boots were sitting on the rug, she stood and looked toward the living room. “What’s Henry doing?”

“We were playing a video game. He’s probably waiting for me to rejoin him.”

“Let me go say hi to him, then I have something to ask you.”

“Okay, but first…” he said, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a tender kiss. “Welcome home, Love. I’m very glad you made it safely.”

“Mmm, me too, especially when I get a greeting like that.” After giving him one more kiss, she linked their hands and led the way to the living room. Henry was sitting on the couch petting Winston, who was laying beside him. Both of them perked up when the adults entered the room, a wide grin splitting Henry’s face, while Winston thumped his tail on the cushions.

“Hey, kid. How was school today?”

“Great! I wish we could get out early every day!”

Emma laughed. “I wouldn’t count on it. Were you able to go to art class? I know how you look forward to it.”

“We still got to go and I finished my Rainbow Fish project. It turned out really good!”

“Oh, yeah? Did you bring it home?”

“No, it had to finish drying. Mrs. Fisher said she wants to hang it up in the hallway.”

“Maybe I’ll schedule a day to come in and have lunch with you, and you can show it to me then. How does that sound?”

“Cool! I love it when you have lunch with me!”

“I know. I love it, too. Let me know when it’s hung up, okay?” She watched him nod his agreement, then asked, “What have you three boys been up to this afternoon?”

“We went out and played in the snow for a little while, but it got too windy and cold. Killian made hot chocolate when we came inside. Winston loved the snow, didn’t you, boy?”

“He was trying to catch all of the snowflakes,” Killian laughed. “Then he started eating the snow on the ground. He’s such a funny pooch.”

“Show her the picture you took, Killian,” Henry urged.

Killian pulled his phone out of his front pocket and opened his photo gallery. Holding it so Emma could see, he said, “I took several pictures and a couple of videos.”

As he started scrolling through them, he didn’t see the doey-eyed look she gave him before directing her attention to what he was showing her. When he came to the last picture, she burst out laughing. In it, Henry was kneeling on the ground beside Winston, who had snow all over his muzzle.

“He looks like he has a white beard,” she giggled.

“Aye, Whitebeard the Weird, distant relative of Blackbeard the Pirate,” Killian chuckled.

Emma laughed again, then asked her son, “Where did you put your wet clothes?”

“Killian put them in the dryer.”

“Henry showed me where it was located.”

“Thank you. He usually lets them lay in a heap inside the door.” Turning back to Henry, she said, “What else did you do?”

He picked up the Nintendo Switch controller, gesturing to the TV with it. “We played video games until you got home.”

“Sounds like you guys had a good time.”

“We did,” Henry assured her. “And don’t worry, Mom. I thanked Killian for everything.”

“Aye, he did. Henry has very good manners, don’t you, lad?” Killian said, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“Yeah. Are you ready to finish our game?”

“Your mother wanted to talk to me about something first, then I should probably head home. She said the roads are getting bad.”

Henry’s shoulders drooped. “But I thought you would stay like you always do on Fridays.”

Emma said, “Henry, why don’t you play a game by yourself for a while, so I can talk to Killian?”

“Can I play Mario Kart?”

“You know the rules - only if you turned in all of your homework and didn’t get your card pulled for bad behavior this week.”

He jumped off the couch and grabbed his book bag from the recliner where he had tossed it when he got home. Unzipping it, he pulled out a folder and handed it to his mom.

She took it and pulled out the papers from the ‘keep at home’ side, placing them on the end table to look at later. Then she took a sheet from the ‘return to school’ pocket. After looking it over, she gave Henry a smile and kissed him on the forehead. “Good job, kid. I’m proud of you.”

While he was putting the folder back in his bag, she went to the closet and got the treasured game off the shelf above the coat rack. As soon as he got the game set up and was fully engaged in choosing his racer, Emma motioned for Killian to follow her into the kitchen.

She leaned against the front of the sink out of Henry’s line of sight, and Killian stood in front of her, his hands on her hips. “What did you want to talk to me about, Swan?” he asked, a concerned crease across his forehead.

Her eyes remained focused on the floor for several moments. When she finally looked up, there were tears in them.

He stepped closer, dipping his head to scan her face. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she answered quickly. “I just…I…I think I love you.”

Killian’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Wh-what?”

“I love you. I’ve fallen in love with you, Killian Jones.”

He surged forward, claiming the lips that just uttered the words which were music to his ears. He could have kissed her for hours, but he needed to ask her a question. “When?”

“When did I fall in love with you?” she asked, seeking to clarify.

“Aye. When did you know?”

She licked her lips. “I think I’ve been falling for you since the first day we met, but I wanted to make sure it’s really love that I feel. I’ve been burned before, and with Henry to consider, I didn’t want to jump right into a serious relationship. Then today, I just…I realized…I mean, you’re there for me, for us. You’re wonderful with Henry and it…it’s not because you’re trying to impress me or win my affections through my son. You honestly seem to like spending time with him. You dropped everything to pick him up today and then, those videos and pictures…you took videos and pictures of my kid because you were having fun with him.”

She paused for a second and he waited, understanding she needed to gather her thoughts. “But it’s not just because of Henry. That’s important, but it…it’s the way you make me feel. I love every minute we spend together. I can never get enough of being with you. As soon as you leave, I immediately look forward to the next time we’ll see each other. I…I…oh hell, I’m rambling and not making any sense.”

“You’re making perfect sense. I completely understand what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?”

He framed her face with his hands, brushing the apples of her cheeks with his thumbs. “Aye, because I feel the same way. You’re the best part of my day, whether we’re texting, talking, or actually together. I truly do love spending time with Henry because he’s such a great kid and I would never use him to try to impress you, Emma.” He brushed a kiss across her lips. “I’ve known for a while, too. That I love you. I’m in love with you, Emma Swan.”

The brightness of her smile was nearly blinding and it was her turn to initiate the fiery kiss. Afterwards, they stood with their foreheads pressed together, while her fingers played with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. “Can I ask you something?” she whispered.

“Of course, Love. Anything.”

She looked into his eyes. “Are you still thinking about moving away from Storybrooke?”

“No,” he answered without hesitation. “I’ve got every reason in the world to stay right here.”

“Good.”

He kissed her sweetly, then sighed. “I hate to ruin this moment, but I really should get started for home. The road conditions are probably worsening by the minute.”

“Actually, that was the original reason I wanted to talk to you. I was thinking that maybe…you could…stay here tonight.”

“Why, Swan,” he teased, “are you inviting me to a sleepover?”

“Well, it would be a very adult sleepover,” she said, watching him closely to gauge his reaction.

He tilted his head and studied her for a moment or two. “Are you saying…you want me to actually sleep with you?”

“I guess we would sleep eventually…”

“Emma, are you sure you’re ready to take that next step?”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not saying that at all,” he said quickly. “I just…would you be comfortable having me stay with you when Henry is right down the hall? We could…we could wait until we’re at my place, if you’d rather.”

“This isn’t spur of the moment, Killian. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I think Henry is too young to understand what it means for you to spend the night and still be here in the morning. He just loves having you here and is always sad to see you leave. I’m not saying it’s going to be something that happens every night…”

“I wouldn’t expect that, especially during the week, but perhaps on the weekends?”

“That’s what I was thinking. Of course, we might be jumping the gun to consider more than tonight. You might be appalled by my snoring, drooling, or what I look like first thing in the morning. Or maybe we won’t be…compatible…in bed.”

He grinned. “I highly doubt that will be the case, Emma. Ever since the day we met, I’ve felt like we have a connection to each other that goes beyond friendship. I can’t imagine that not transferring to the bedroom. As far as your snoring and drooling, I’m sure I’ll find it to be absolutely adorable.”

“Whatever you say,” she scoffed. “But when you wake up with my morning breath in your face, you might change your mind.”

“I’m willing to risk it,” he smirked.

She began playing with the buttons on his shirt. “There’s, um…there’s one more thing I need to tell you.”

“What’s that, Love?”

After stepping away from him to check on Henry in the other room, she returned to face him again. “I haven’t been…intimate with anyone since Henry’s father. Henry is my world and everything else has taken a back seat.”

“Which is quite understandable,” Killian said. “It’s been a while for me, too. After getting hurt like I did, I was in no hurry to be with another woman. You have changed so many things in my life, Emma, and I’m anxious to begin this next chapter with you and Henry.”

“Don’t forget Winston,” she quipped.

“How could I forget Winston?” he laughed.

“Okay, so how about we get some supper and watch a movie like we usually do on Friday nights? My guess is that after the excitement of the day, Henry will be asleep before it’s over.”

“That sounds wonderful, Love. What were you planning to eat?”

“I was planning to order pizza, but with the roads the way they are, I think we better go with plan B.”

“Which is…?”

“I have no idea.”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Do you mind if I search your cupboards a bit?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and crooned, “You can search anything you want.”

“Swan, are you flirting with me to get me riled up?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased.

“Perhaps I would,” she answered, before scattering kisses along his throat.

“Bad form, Love,” he groaned.

“You don’t like it?” she asked innocently, looking up at him through her lashes.

“I like it too much, that’s the problem,” he said, pressing his hips against hers so she could feel the effect she was having on him.

“Okay, I’ll stop…for now,” she said. She started to move away and he reluctantly released her. “Dig around to your heart’s content and I’ll go see what movie Henry wants to watch.”

Killian ended up making spaghetti with garlic toast for supper. Afterwards, they watched “Luck” on AppleTV, while munching on chocolate chip cookies Emma whipped up. She and Killian managed to make the food while sharing lots of kisses in the kitchen.

Henry didn’t question Killian staying instead of going home; he was simply happy to carry on with their usual Friday evening routine. He made it through the movie without falling asleep, but was reluctant to move when it ended. Emma realized that he wanted Killian to carry him to his room, which he did, making her heart melt as she watched.

While Emma took Henry through his bedtime routine, Killian put Winston outside to do his business. Although he had cleared the patio of snow earlier in the evening, it was covered again.

When he took Winston into Henry’s room after toweling him off, he reported, “I’d say there’s at least six inches of snow and it’s still coming down.”

“Oh, boy!” Henry exclaimed, perking up. “Can you come over tomorrow to play in it with us again?”

Killian scratched behind his ear, looking to Emma for help.

“Actually kid, Killian is going to stay here overnight,” she said.

“He is?”

“Yeah. The roads are pretty bad and I didn’t want him to risk driving home. Is that okay with you?”

Henry gave her a puzzled look. “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

Emma shrugged. “He’s never spent the night here before.”

“Well, he should, because we’re usually together all day on Saturdays, too. It doesn’t make sense for him to go home.”

Killian and Emma exchanged a look, then he bid the boy goodnight, patted Winston and left the room so she could read to her son.

After kissing Henry and closing the door to his room, she found Killian sitting on the couch. “Well, I guess that answers the question of whether it’s going to bother Henry,” she said, plopping down beside him.

“Aye,” he chuckled, but she noticed he didn’t look at her.

“Hey,” she said, reaching to take his hand. “Is something wrong?”

“I, uh, I…if we’re going to take that next step in our relationship, I’m concerned about what to do because I don’t have any kind of protection.”

“Well, I obviously don’t have any STDs and I assume you don’t, either.”

“I don’t, but what about preventing you from getting pregnant?”

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I have an IUD. My doctor suggested it because I had such heavy periods after Henry was born.”

“Well, that is a relief,” he said, finally looking at her. “Did Henry fall asleep while you were reading to him?”

“He was out before I read half a page. He actually held out longer than I thought.”

“Tomorrow will be another fun day in the snow for him.”

She turned on the sofa to face him, draping her legs over his. “I was meaning to ask you - did you bring along clothes to wear out in the snow?”

“Aye. Liam advised that I keep extra clothes in the car during the winter months, so I changed into them once we came inside.”

“Did you dry them with Henry’s clothes?”

“I did. I hope that was alright.”

“Of course. I want you to make yourself at home here. I was thinking it might be nice to put up the Christmas tree tomorrow.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. I’m sure Henry loves doing that.”

“Oh yes, he really gets into it,” she laughed. “Although I’m sure you can’t imagine him getting excited about anything!”

Her sarcasm made him chuckle. “That’s one reason why I enjoy being with him so much. He’s enthusiastic about everything.”

“You clearly haven’t seen him do his chores.”

“Well, that’s true,” he agreed with a grin. “I suppose that’s typical for a kid.”

“Not just a kid. I hate doing chores, too.”

“You know,” he said, wrapping his arms around her to pull her into his lap, “I could think of much better things to talk about than chores.”

She adjusted herself so her knees were on either side of his hips, her hands on his shoulders and her forehead resting against his. “Like the fact that I love you?”

“Aye, that’s a much better subject,” he said, nuzzling her nose. They indulged in a long, slow kiss, while their hands roamed each other’s body. “I love you, too,” Killian murmured against her lips. In response, she deepened the kiss and adjusted her position, putting more pressure on his groin. “Swan…” he rasped.

“Maybe we should move to the bedroom,” she whispered in his ear.

The tickling sensation and implication of her words served to increase his arousal. “I like that idea, Love.”

She kissed him one more time, then pushed herself off of him. Threading her fingers through his, she tugged him to his feet. As they quietly moved down the hall, Emma stopped outside Henry’s door, listening intently. Giving a nod, they continued into her bedroom and she closed the door behind them.

“He’s out for the night,” she commented.

“You can tell that just by listening for a few seconds?”

“He’s a mouth breather, a loud one. He probably needs to have his tonsils and adenoids removed, but up until now, I haven’t had a job with good insurance. I just haven’t taken him to the doctor yet.”

“What about Winston?”

“If he needs his tonsils and adenoids out, I’ll let you pay for it,” she teased.

“You’re hilarious, Swan,” he remarked, trying to look stern, but failing to keep the smile from taking over his face.

“Yeah, I know,” she smirked. “Winston has slept through the night since the first night we brought him home.”

“In that case,” Killian said, sauntering into her personal space, “I guess the night is ours.”

“I guess so,” she said, then nervously pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

Tilting his head, he looked into her eyes for several seconds, then brushed some locks of blonde hair over her shoulder. “Emma, please don’t feel like we have to go ahead with this if you’re…”

“No, Killian,” she interrupted firmly. “I really want this, I’m just…out of practice, I guess.”

He put his hands on her waist and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “Relax, Love. Just let things happen naturally, and if they don’t, then we sleep instead. No pressure, okay?”

“You know, the first time I saw you, I had to convince myself you were real. I was sure no one as handsome as you could actually exist. And now, you say something like that and I have to convince myself that you’re real all over again. I mean, when a guy’s girlfriend is offering them sex, how many would say it’s okay if it doesn’t happen?”

“Probably more than you think. I would hope there are more gentlemen than rogues out there.”

Emma thought about that for a few moments, before saying, “I should wash my face and brush my teeth. Why don’t you, um, get comfortable in here and I’ll go take care of that.”

He watched her leave the room, then ran his hands through his hair. He longed to show Emma how much he loved her, but the last thing he wanted was for her to feel uncomfortable or pressured in any way. After stripping down to his navy blue boxers and white T-shirt, he sat on the bed to wait for her to return.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, she was quietly berating herself in the mirror. “You have this sweet, sexy, perfect boyfriend in your bedroom and you come running in here like a scared rabbit. What is wrong with you?” she asked her reflection. When she didn’t receive an answer, she sighed, tossed a washcloth into the sink and turned on the hot water.

After she finished in the bathroom and padded back to her room, she tapped lightly on the door before entering. Killian looked up at her from his seat on the bed, concern etched on his face. “Alright there, Swan?”

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. I, um, I laid an extra toothbrush out for you if you wanted to, um, brush your teeth,” she stammered.

“Thank you, Love.” He stood up and slipped out the door.

Emma used the time to change out of her clothes and into a turquoise nightshirt that barely covered her underwear. She was standing in front of her dresser brushing her hair when she heard a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” she said, when it didn’t open right away.

As Killian entered, she saw his reflection in the mirror. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him before he left the room; but now, she saw that he was utterly tantalizing in very little clothing. It made her mouth go dry, but at the same time, made all of her nervousness vanish.

Turning toward him, she saw the anticipation on his face and quickly crossed the space between them. Standing in front of him, she reached up and cupped his face, then pulled him down to connect their lips, trying to pour every ounce of her love into the kiss.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her snugly against himself. She’d been in his arms many times, but there were always more layers of clothing between them. Feeling his well-defined chest pressed against hers and his strong back under her roaming hands, she could feel her own body reacting.

Finally breaking the kiss, she said breathlessly, “I’m sorry for being so hesitant. I asked you to stay and then I let my nerves and insecurities get to me. It’s just that, in the past, people were always letting me down…”

“Let me assure you, Love,” he said, softly stroking the tips of his fingers over her cheek, “I don’t intend to let you down or hurt you in any way. You mean far too much to me to ever let that happen, trust me.”

Her eyes searched his, knowing she would see nothing but sincerity and love in them. “I do trust you,” she whispered. Taking his hands, she backed up until the backs of her knees hit the bed, then sat down and pulled him down beside her.

*********

“I’m yours,” she said. “Make love to me, Killian.”

Twisting his body, he embraced her, then rolled them until he was on top of her in the middle of the mattress. “As you wish,” he grinned.

They took their time undressing each other between impassioned kisses, their lips finding the skin that was revealed with every discarded article of clothing. Killian paid special attention to Emma’s bare breasts when he removed her shirt, his mouth and calloused fingers on the sensitive flesh making her body sizzle with desire.

When she pushed his boxers down his legs, her eyes widened as she took in the size of his manhood. Her hand wrapped around it, the smooth skin feeling like satin on her palm.

As she slowly stroked him, his fingers moved between her thighs, feeling the damp heat. She widened her legs as one finger made its way inside her. “Killiannn,” she whined.

“Does that feel good?” he murmured into her ear.

“Yesss…so good.”

“What you’re doing feels good to me, too,” he assured her. He pushed himself up to lean on one elbow, sweeping his eyes up and down her form. “Gods, Emma. You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen,” he praised. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

Her hands moved to his chest, fingers swirling through the generous dusting of hair. “So are you.” The fingers of one hand followed the dark trail of hair down his belly and between his legs to fondle his testicles, satisfied when she heard his sharp intake of breath.

They continued to explore, working one another up until both were panting and pleading. Killian took his time ensuring that Emma was prepared, using his fingers around and inside her opening to make her slick with arousal. At the same time, her attention to his cock and the way she scratched her fingernails over the skin of his chest and back made him the hardest he’d ever been.

As he sucked love marks into the soft skin of her breast and rubbed his thumb over her clit, she gasped, “Killian, I…I’m ready.”

He looked up at her through his long, dark lashes. Her skin was flushed, her tongue licking at her kiss-swollen lips. As his eyes connected with her lust-filled green ones, a rush of love and longing crashed over him. “I love you, Emma,” he said, moving up to seal the declaration with another kiss.

“I love you, too. So much,” she replied, running her fingers through his damp strands of hair. Then she shifted on the bed so he could settle between her thighs.

Holding himself above her on one elbow, he reached down to grasp his cock, rubbing it through her slick, wet folds, then slowly began pushing forward. His eyes scanned up her body to study her face, hoping to catch any sign of discomfort in her features. He halted his progress when he detected a slight grimace. “Does that hurt?” he asked.

“No, no,” she assured him. “It burns a little, but mostly it feels…amazing. Please don’t stop.”

He was happy to hear those words, because being only partially inside her felt incredible, and he yearned to keep going. Dropping his elbow down to the other side of her body, he pulled back a little, then pressed forward again, going deeper inch by inch, until he was fully engulfed in her warm, tight sheath.

Resting his head on her chest, he ground out, “Bloody hell, Emma. You feel fucking fantastic.”

She skimmed her hands through his hair. “It feels like you were made for me,” she whispered. Bending her knees, she pulled her feet up beside his hips and gave a slight thrust of her pelvis.

He got the hint and began rocking slowly, savoring every moan and gasp from her. Sensing that she had adjusted to his size, he pulled out until only his tip was still inside, then slid all the way back in with one stroke, gradually picking up the pace.

“Faster…deeper,” she begged.

He obliged, thrusting into her several times in quick succession. Her hips raised off the bed to meet him every time, while her fingers gripped his hair almost painfully.

“Killian, I can’t…I’m going to…”

“Let go, Love,” he encouraged, knowing she was right on the edge.

Throbbing heat and a sudden flood of wetness around his cock told him that she followed his command. She crossed her ankles behind his back, trying to pull him closer, while her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow.

He stilled within her, trying to delay his own climax. As good as it felt to have her pulsing around him, he didn’t want it to end so soon.

“T-top,” she mumbled.

“You want to be on top?”

“Mmhmm.”

After wrapping his arms around her, he carefully rolled them over. Emma planted her hands on his chest and pushed herself up, her knees tight against his hips. His hands gripped her forearms as she began lifting and lowering her pelvis, his cock sliding in, then almost out of her over and over again.

Killian was muttering a steady string of praises, telling her how perfect she was and how good she felt. Raising his head, his mouth found one of her nipples, alternately rolling his tongue over it and sucking hard. The effect caused her rhythm to stutter and she threw her head back, letting out a long, guttural moan of his name.

Feeling his release growing imminently closer, he started thrusting up into her. His hand moved down to find her clit, rubbing it roughly as he groaned, “Come again, Emma. Please come, Love. I…I can’t…”

With one final slide down on him, she did, shuddering and shaking as she cried out, “Yes! Yes, Killian!”

Watching her ecstasy, hearing her shouts and feeling her pulse around him brought him to his peak, too. He jerked and spasmed, spurting hot streams of cum inside her.

When she collapsed on top of him several moments later, he held her close, murmuring words of adoration into her hair. Gradually, their breathing and heart rates returned to normal, and Killian groped around the bed, finding the blanket and pulling it over the top of them.

*********

Emma sighed happily, pressing kisses to his throat and collarbone. “That was amazing! I know it’s been a while, but I don’t remember sex ever being that good.”

“Well, that’s because you’ve never done it with me before,” he chuckled. Hearing her hum of agreement, he added, “It’s never been like that for me, either. Then again, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. I think that’s what made it so much more intense and meaningful.”

She lifted her head and rested her chin on his sternum, looking into his face. “I’m sure you’re right about that. I’m very glad we decided to take this next step. I feel like we’re more closely connected now.” She wiggled her hips, causing his softening length to shift inside her. “In more ways than one.”

He grinned and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears. “Meeting you and Henry is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Leaning forward, she kissed him; a slow, tender kiss that communicated her feelings more than words ever could. They cuddled a while longer before Emma slipped her shirt back on and went to the bathroom to clean up, bringing a warm washcloth back so Killian could do the same. After he put his boxers on and visited the bathroom himself, they burrowed under the covers, intertwining themselves and sharing more kisses until they finally drifted off to sleep - content, sated and thoroughly in love.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma awoke slowly the next morning, the smell of coffee tickling her nose. When her foggy brain remembered what happened the night before, she reached over to find the other side of the bed empty. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and stretched.

She felt pleasantly sore in all the right places and smiled when she remembered how she had awakened in the middle of the night to find Killian watching her sleep. The sliver of moonlight seeping in through the slight opening between the curtains illuminated his mischievous blue eyes. It was then she realized he had worked her shirt up above her breasts and was gently massaging them. Soon they were engaged in round two, finding more ways to bring pleasure to one another.

Flinging back the blanket, she grabbed a robe out of her closet and put it on as she walked down the hall. She could hear Henry chattering before she reached the kitchen.

“...and after we play in the snow, we can play more games and watch movies and…”

“Slow down, lad,” she heard Killian say, his gruff morning voice sending shivers down her spine. “I think your mother has some plans for us today.”

“That’s right,” she said, joining them. “I think you’ll like what I have planned.” Peeking over Henry’s shoulder, she asked, “What are you eating, kid?”

“Killian made egg in a basket!” he said excitedly. “It’s really good and he told me he would teach you how to make it too, if you want.”

“Is that so?” she asked, passing behind the ‘chef’ and discreetly pinching his side.

“Bad form, Swan,” he chided playfully. “And to think I made coffee and breakfast for you.”

“Sorry,” she said, stretching to her tiptoes to kiss the underside of his scruffy jaw. He turned so her next kiss was to his lips.

“You guys are being gross,” Henry complained, making the couple laugh. “So what are we doing today, Mom?”

She poured herself a mug of coffee, splashed some creamer into it, then leaned against the counter to take a sip before answering, “I thought we would put up the Christmas tree and decorate it. How does that sound?”

“YAY!” Henry shouted. Winston started barking from where he lay under the table.

“Winston, enough!” Killian commanded and the dog quieted immediately.

“Good morning, sweet boy,” Emma said, bending down to ruffle his ears. “I didn’t see you under there.” Straightening up, she asked her son, “Did you already feed him?”

Henry’s ears reddened. “Uh, no. I forgot.”

Emma gave him a stern look. “You know you’re supposed to feed your dog before you sit down to eat, young man.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, hopping out of his seat and going to the pantry where the dog’s food was stored.

“Apologize to Winston, not me.”

Henry scooped out the food and dumped it into Winston’s bowl. “I’m sorry, boy,” he said, as he set it down beside the refrigerator where the dog sat waiting.

Killian laughed as he watched Winston inhaling his food like he was afraid it was going to disappear. “I think he forgives you, lad.” Looking at Emma, he added, “I already put him outside to do his business. The snow is up to his belly, but he found a spot by the side of the house that wasn’t quite as deep.”

“How long have you been up?” she questioned.

Killian glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Almost an hour.”

“Wow, you’re a morning person. It usually takes me half-an-hour just to pry my eyes open and get out of bed, especially on a Saturday.”

“Well, you know what they say - opposites attract,” he said, setting a plate of food in front of her and sitting down beside her with his own.

As they began to eat, Henry returned to the table and asked, “When are we gonna put up the tree, Mom?”

“You can help decide. Do you want to do it before or after we play in the snow?”

He thought for a second. “Let’s go outside first. Can we bake gingerbread cookies like we did last year, when we decorated the tree?”

“I’m afraid not. We don’t have the necessary ingredients for that kind of cookie.”

Seeing Henry’s disappointed look, Killian said, “I know a good recipe for sugar cookies. Do you like that kind? I know your mother has all the ingredients for them.”

Henry perked up again. “Yeah! Can we decorate them? We have sprinkles left from when you tried to make cupcakes for Avery’s birthday, remember?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of that fiasco,” Emma groaned, making Henry giggle.

Killian looked between the two of them. “Why was it a fiasco?”

She covered her face with her hands as she answered, “I forgot the baking powder.”

“Do you mean to say,” he began, trying to contain his laughter, “that you baked cupcakes and didn’t put any baking powder in them?”

Dropping her hands, she replied indignantly, “Hey, it happens to the best of us. I’ve seen episodes of the Great British Baking Show where the bakers forget to put in key ingredients.”

“Point taken. Did you take the cupcakes to the party?”

“Are you kidding? They looked like hockey pucks! Of course I didn’t take them to the party.”

Killian laughed heartily, while Emma tried and failed to give him a reproving look. Instead, she dissolved into laughter, too.

“Mom picked up cupcakes at the grocery on the way to the party,” Henry said, then shoved another bite of food into his mouth.

“Well, I promised to bring them, so I had to do something.”

“Very resourceful, Swan.”

By the end of breakfast, they had the day’s schedule worked out. They played in the snow as soon as they were all dressed, then drank hot chocolate and baked cookies. While waiting for the cookies to be cool enough to ice and decorate, Henry and Killian brought the small artificial tree in from the garage.

As they were setting it up, Emma explained, “Henry wants to have a live tree, but I told him he needs to be a little older, because I don’t think I could get one unloaded and set up by myself.”

“Ah, well, if it weren’t for the fact we’re snowed in today, I could have helped you with that,” Killian said. “Perhaps next year.”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “I hope we’ll still be together by then.”

He pulled her against him, wrapping her in his warm embrace. “I have every confidence we will, Love.”

The day was the most fun any of them could remember. They decorated cookies and the tree while listening to Christmas music, played some board games, then watched two Christmas movies with only the lights from the tree and television illuminating the living room. Killian sat on the couch between Emma and Henry, both of whom were snuggled close to his side.

Emma and Killian shared many affectionate caresses and kisses throughout the day, unable to keep from touching each other. That evening, after Henry and Winston were in bed, they spooned on the sofa, quietly discussing plans for the next day, Christmas and New Years Eve.

Both of them were hopeful and excited about their future together.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Eight Months Later

“Great pass, Nicholas!” Killian shouted, running along the sidelines to coach his players. “Keep it under control, Grace! Get open, Henry! There he is! Pass it, Grace!”

As Henry’s kick sent the soccer ball flying into the goal, Emma leaped from her seat with a cheer, causing Winston to jump up and start barking. Everyone around them laughed, used to the excitable black dog who was always at the games to watch his young master.

When the game ended, Killian’s team was victorious for the third week in a row. Henry shook hands with the other team, then sprinted over to his mom and Winston.

“Good game, kid!” Emma exclaimed, returning his hug. “Your team is doing great this year.”

“That’s because we have the best coach in the whole world!” he beamed, taking Winston’s leash from her as the dog jumped around him enthusiastically.

Emma watched Killian gather his clipboard and Henry’s water bottle. Several parents approached him to offer their words of appreciation, and she smiled as he humbly accepted them.

He really was too good to be true, except that he absolutely was…and he was hers.

She turned to fold up her lawn chair and collect Winston’s favorite ducky toy, and soon felt two strong arms wrap around her from behind.

“Congratulations, coach,” she said, twisting in his arms to kiss him.

“Thank you, Love. The team is really starting to gel, don’t you think?”

“That’s because, as Henry just said, they have the best coach in the world.”

“He said that?” Killian asked, rubbing self-consciously behind his ear.

“Yeah, and I agree. They love playing for you, Babe.”

“Well, they’re fun to coach. I’m glad you talked me into it.”

“Pfft,” Emma scoffed. “I’m not the one who did it. It was that nine-year-old con artist who lives with us.”

“He can be quite persuasive,” he conceded. “Takes after his mother.”

“Hey!” she said, lightly slapping his chest. “I never talk you into doing things you don’t want to do.”

“That’s very true,” he murmured into her ear. “I’m always up for what you want me to do.”

She giggled and engaged him in another kiss, only to be interrupted by a loud, exasperated, “Mom! Killian! You guys are embarrassing!”

They broke apart with a laugh. “Sorry, kid,” Emma said, not sounding one bit apologetic. “Ready to go home?”

“Actually, Henry and I thought it might be fun to go to the nature preserve this morning,” Killian said. “Is that alright with you, Swan?”

“Sounds good to me. I’m glad I wore sneakers instead of sandals.”

They headed to the car and were soon on their way to the preserve. Emma noticed Killian shifting in his seat and nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Oh, um, aye. Just working out some energy left over from the game.”

She studied him for several more moments, then shrugged slightly and turned to ask Henry what he wanted for lunch when they got home, later.

There were several cars in the main parking lot at the preserve, so Killian kept driving until they reached a more remote section. Winston always got distracted if there were too many people around, so they tried to stick to the paths that weren’t likely to be as busy.

Once they found a place to park and were out of the car, Henry and Winston started along the path that led into the woods. Emma and Killian trailed behind, falling into easy conversation, as always. Their current topic was Belle and Liam, who were due to return from their honeymoon the following day. Despite being wed at the beginning of June, the couple waited to go on their trip until August, because Liam could get airline tickets for a much better price late in the summer.

“Bloody wanker, always after a discount,” Killian grumbled, not for the first time. “Even for his honeymoon!”

“Belle didn’t seem to mind,” Emma pointed out. “She was excited because the best time to see Beluga Whales in Alaska is during the month of August. I hope they were able to see some.”

“Aye, me too. That’s probably the reason Liam booked it for this month, anyway. He just wants to make everyone think he’s a miser.”

Emma wrapped her arm around his more tightly and leaned into him. “I definitely got the better brother,” she stated playfully.

“That you did, Love,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to her temple.

After hiking for twenty minutes, they came to their favorite spot on the path - a small fishing pond surrounded by tall, reedy grass and cattails. Henry and Winston started exploring the perimeter of the water, in search of frogs. Ever since finding one at this pond earlier in the summer, they were determined to find another.

“Care to sit down for a bit, Love?” Killian asked, indicating a wooden bench.

“Yeah. I’m sure the two of them will want to stay here a while.”

They sat together in comfortable silence, listening to the chirping of birds and buzz of insects. Finally, Killian turned to her and said, “We’ve known each other for almost a year now, haven’t we?”

“We met in September, so it’ll be a year next month.”

“It’s been the best year of my life.”

“Mmhmm. Mine, too. Especially these last three months when you officially moved in with us.”

“Well, I did have to live somewhere, since the lease on my apartment was up,” he teased.

“Oh, so now the truth comes out,” she shot back with a giggle.

“Aye,” he sighed dramatically. “I only love you for your house.”

“You’re so full of it, Jones,” she said, elbowing him in the side.

He leaned back and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side, both of them watching Henry and Winston chasing what looked like a dragonfly.

“Those two are something else,” she remarked.

“They’re both good boys. I’m very lucky to be part of their lives.”

Emma hummed. “We’re all very lucky to have you in our lives.”

After another lengthy pause, he murmured, “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you, too.”

He slipped from his seat and knelt in front of her. “Enough to marry me?” he asked, looking up into her eyes, widened in surprise.

“Killian…wh-what are you doing?” she stammered.

“Isn’t it obvious, Love? I’m proposing. But I guess I’ve forgotten something, haven’t I?” Unbuttoning the pocket on the side of his cargo shorts, he reached in and withdrew a diamond solitaire ring, holding it up between them. “Emma, we may have met because of a mistake, but I don’t think of it that way. I’m convinced it was God’s plan for us to meet in just the right place at exactly the right time. You, Henry and Winston are the center of my world and that’s where I want you to be for the rest of my life. So, Emma Swan, will you marry me?”

She brushed at the tears trickling down her cheeks as a huge smile crossed her face. “Yes, Killian! Of course I’ll marry you!”

He took her trembling hand in his and slid the ring into place. Then he wrapped her in his arms, kissing her hair, eyes, cheeks, and finally, her lips, salty with her tears.

Their celebration was cut short when Henry asked, “Did she say yes?”

Both of them dissolved into laughter. He was notorious for interrupting them when they were kissing, whether out of disgust or because he was simply oblivious.

“Aye, lad. She did,” Killian answered.

“Wait, you were in on this?” Emma asked her son.

“Yeah. Last night, Killian asked me if it was okay for him to marry you. I said it was, so that’s why we decided to come here after the game today - so he could oppose.”

“Propose,” Killian corrected, as Emma laughed.

Henry shrugged. “Whatever. So you’re getting married? We’re gonna be a real family?” His excitement grew as he realized what it all meant.

“Yeah, kid. We’ll officially become a family. What do you think about that?”

It wasn’t a surprise to either of them that his answer was a loud, “YAY!” while Winston barked his approval, too.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma and Killian were married sixteen months later, the day before the second anniversary of when they first declared their love for each other. Fortunately, there was no snowstorm on their wedding day.

Henry proudly walked his mother down the aisle to meet Killian at the altar. The boy shook his soon-to-be stepfather’s hand, then nearly tackled him in a hug, before taking his place beside Liam.

The ceremony was beautiful and perfect, which in Killian’s mind, matched his bride. Everyone had a wonderful time at the reception afterwards, celebrating the couple with food and dancing. Liam’s best man speech caused Killian’s face to turn red with embarrassment, as everyone else’s turned red with laughter.

The traditional father/daughter dance was replaced with a mother/son dance instead. As the two most important people in his life moved in small circles in the middle of the floor to the song “How Long Will I Love You?”, Killian repeatedly swallowed past the lump in his throat and wiped away a stray tear or two.

While the newlyweds enjoyed a honeymoon in a tropical climate, Henry and Winston stayed with Belle and Liam. The boy and his dog slept in the spare bedroom that was in the process of being turned into a nursery for Henry’s future cousin, due to arrive in two months.

Emma and Killian purchased a larger house, two blocks from the Storybrooke harbor, six months after their wedding. While they were signing the final legal papers for the sale, they were beginning another legal process.

One morning in October, Henry came into the kitchen and gave Winston an extra helping of food in celebration of their pet’s ‘gotcha day’. Sitting down at the table, he was excited to find his favorite breakfast of French toast with bacon on his plate, and folded pieces of paper beside it.

After drowning his food in maple syrup and taking a huge bite, he picked up the papers and asked, “What are these?”

“Open them and see,” Emma said, her face glowing with excitement as she met Killian’s eyes across the table.

Henry did as he was told, scanning the page until he realized that the first one was a certificate of adoption. His eyes shot up to land on Killian. “Does this mean you’re officially my dad?”

“Aye, lad, I’m legally your father. I signed the final papers a couple of weeks ago. We’ve just been waiting for that other paper to arrive before we told you.”

Henry slid the second paper out from underneath the first, his eyes widening even more. “It says Henry Andrew Jones. Is that really my name now?”

“Yeah, kid,” Emma answered. “That’s your new birth certificate and it names Killian as your father. What do you think?”

In answer, he jumped out of his chair and ran around the table to fly into Killian’s waiting arms. “I think it’s the best day of my life!” he exclaimed. “I love you, Dad!”

“I love you, too, my boy,” Killian replied, a slight catch in his voice at hearing Henry call him that title for the very first time.

Henry turned to give Emma a hug, also. “It’s pretty cool that Winston and I both have the same ‘gotcha day’,” he said.

His parents laughed. “I didn’t think about that,” Emma admitted.

That Christmas, their friends and family received a card which included a picture of Henry, Emma, Killian and Winston in front of their decorated, live Christmas tree. It was signed:

Happy Holidays! With love from the Jones family.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Thank you so very much for reading!

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#pet for rent #chapter update #chapter 4 #complete story #jrob64 #art by jrob64 #csff #cs fluff #cs smut #CS modern AU #Captain Cobra #ouat Captain Swan fanfic

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