“An ending isn’t happiness,” Snow said, eyes shining with hope and joy, “being together is.”
Emma’s heart turned over as she hugged Killian, her husband to her with one arm and held Henry’s hand with the other. They’d done it. They’d defeated the Black Fairy. They’d won the final battle.
And she was still alive—she and all her loved ones. No more fear hanging over them, no more prophecies of doom and death, no more evil to defeat. Just peace and happiness and love.
It was like waking up to bright sunshine after the worst nightmare of her life. The after effects of pain and fear were there, but far more substantial was the relief. Emma felt the tears gather at the back of her eyes as the adrenaline began to wear off and the emotion took its place.
Killian gave her a tender, knowing look. He understood; he always understood.
“Well it has been a thrilling day as always,” he said with a cocky grin, “but I do believe my lovely bride and myself are owed a wedding night, and since we were forced to spend the actual night of our nuptials in separate realms, tonight is a more than adequate substitute.”
David grumbled good-naturedly about things he didn’t need to know, while Henry pantomimed getting sick before very pointedly informing the family that he’d be staying with Regina for the next month or so until he was sure he wouldn’t be scarred for life at the Swan-Jones house.
Killian grinned, giving Emma a salacious look from hooded eyes. “Shall we, love?”
Emma grinned, loving the playfulness in his expression. “We shall.”
With a final goodbye hug for her son and her parents, Emma took hold of her husband’s hand and then poofed them to the sidewalk before their home.
“This is a mode of transportation, I could come to appreciate, my love,” Killian said, grin turning wicked, “but I do believe you miscalculated.”
“Yeah?” Emma asked, “how’s that.”
He swaggered toward her. “It is, after all, our wedding night. Perhaps it would have been more appropriate to transport us directly to our bed.”
“Easy, tiger.” She laughed, putting a hand to his chest, meaning to playfully hold him at bay, but somehow turning the gesture into a caress. “We’ll get to that…believe me. We are so going to get to that, but there’s something I need to do first.”
“Aye?” he asked, putting an arm around her waist and leaning in to nuzzle the place where here neck met her shoulder. “And what, pray tell, might that be?”
Emma closed her eyes spreading her hands before her, concentrating hard. A pulse of bright, white light poured from her and spread until it enveloped their entire house and yard in a dome of translucent magic. “It’s our wedding night,” she said, turning back toward him, “and I’m not taking any chances. Last thing we need is Leroy bursting in on us shouting about snow monsters or curses or terrible news. This town can damn well handle one night without the savior.”
Killian swooped down and kissed her deeply, and after a moment, Emma felt the world shift on its axis. It took her a moment to realize she really was airborne and not merely swept up in the delicious headiness of kissing her husband. Pulling back she looked around to find Killian had picked her up, one arm behind her back and the other under the backs of her knees, and was walking purposely toward their front door.
Emma squirmed, laughing. “Killian is this really necessary?”
He managed the steps without tripping, dropping her, or otherwise causing calamity, and then he stopped before their front door. “Swan, this is vital. I, as your new husband must carry you over the threshold.”
He looked so serious, so scandalized that she could even suggest anything different. “Do people still carry their brides over the threshold?”
“Indeed they do if they wish for a happy marriage!” He said, serious as a heart attack.
“Oh yeah?” Emma asked, reaching up to play with the ends of his hair. “And just what’s going to happen to us if I walk into our home on my own?”
He rolled his eyes, and sighed. “Swan, everyone knows that evil spirits wait upon the threshold of a newly married couple’s home in a last, desperate effort to curse the lovers. The groom must carry his bride across lest the demons enter through the soles of her feet.”
Emma laughed again. “Killian we just defeated the Black Fairy and heart-controlled Gideon. I don’t think evil spirits have a chance against us.”
The playful joy slid from his face for a moment, concern taking its place. “Love, I almost lost you. I almost watched you die before my eyes. Silly tradition this may be, but allow me this concession. Please.”
Emma’s heart dropped at the naked agony on her husband’s face. They’d both been through so much in the past few weeks. It had been an almost constant stream of villains and separations. Fear and pain, curses and even death itself. There was a lot they still had to process and work through.
She reached up, cupping his face in her hands and then pulling him down for a soft kiss. “Yeah, okay.”
Emma waved her hand and their front door opened. Killian stepped through, set her on her feet and then hugged her to him, burying his nose in her neck. His hold was so desperate, so tight, it was almost painful, but Emma wouldn’t have pulled away for the world. She needed this as much as he did.
After a couple of moments of clinging together, Emma pulled back and then reached up to swipe at the tear tracks on her husband’s cheeks. “I know the last few months have been rough, and we have a lot to talk about and, you know, try to deal with, but can we put it aside for tonight, for just this night? We won the final battle and it’s our wedding night, and I just want to celebrate with my husband.”
Killian closed his eyes for a moment, dragged in a rough breath and slowly let it go. Opening his eyes, he looked down at her before leaning in for a kiss. “Then celebrate with your husband you shall.”
Emma tossed a fireball into the fireplace lighting a soft, romantic blaze, while Killian shut, locked and dead bolted the front door. “Now, darling, where shall we begin?”
Emma gave him her best come hither glance, curving her finger in a beckoning gesture. He complied with a wicked grin, hips leading, swagger firmly in place. When he reached her, he wrapped her in his arms and lowered his lips to hers.
There was no easing into this kiss, no gradual build up. It was fire and passion and need from the first, Killian devouring her, giving as good as he took. Emma gasped at the tender assault, and he took full advantage, his tongue surging forward to pillage and plunder. She reached up, her hand raking through his hair, nails scratching his scalp, trying to pull him closer, her tongue darting forward to stroke, tangle and dance with his own.
The moan in the back of Killian’s throat stoked the fires within Emma, and she was suddenly achingly aware that they both wore far too many clothes. She shrugged out of her red jacket, Killian’s hand and hook coming up to help her, and then she went to work on the buttons (way, way too many buttons) of Killian’s vest and shirt.
“Why do you always wear so many clothes?” she muttered as he pulled his mouth free and set to work kissing and nipping his way down her jaw to the sensitive spot just behind her ear.
“I’ve no bloody clue,” Killian said breathlessly, as he walked them backwards toward the couch and gently tipped her forward until she landed on her back, “but it’s one of the most abysmally stupid moves I’ve ever made.”
He leaned down, kissing her once again, his hand disappearing beneath the hem of her shirt as she finished the last button and shoved the offending clothes off of his shoulders. His leg found its way between hers, and her hips pitched forward, needing the contact, the friction. She needed him now.
Emma’s hands went to the button on Killian’s jeans—jeans that seemed to be fitting decidedly tightly—but before she could proceed, he broke his mouth free with a moan, sitting back and running his hand through his hair. “We need to slow down, love.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me right now? You want to stop?”
He chuckled, offering a hand and pulling her to her feet. “Gods no,” he said. “I merely feel that our first coupling as husband and wife deserves better than a quick tousle on the sofa. Let’s adjourn to our chambers, my love, where I can properly ravage you.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, the gesture meant to be a quick peck, but soon turning to a frenzy of need. “Oh there’s nothing the slightest bit ‘proper’ in my thoughts right now. Think you’re up for some pillaging, pirate?”
He growled, swooping in for another kiss. “Oh you have no idea, darling,” he breathed against her lips as they moved purposely toward the bedroom.
--*waves* Hi again! Here’s yet another new MC. That makes 3 for this summer! Whew! I’m going to be a busy girl during this hiatus.
--As you can clearly see from the summary and the title, this fic is going to focus on the CS honeymoon—something they very much deserve to have. Now that they’ve gotten to have their wedding night (and pancakes), it’s time to plan their honeymoon!