Chapter 20

Emma was unsure how much of the numbness she was currently experiencing was from the rum, and how much was from her state of shock. She faintly heard the door close behind Baelfire as he departed, but couldn't tear her eyes away from the empty glass in her hand. She was mesmerized by the way the lantern's light appeared to dance in it, refracting across the transparent surfaces of the container and then swimming through her watery vision. She was only vaguely aware of Killian watching her from his seat at the table until he cleared his throat, prompting her to glance up at him. Before he could say whatever he might have been about to, she held the glass out toward him and nodded at the flask still sitting in front of him. Whatever the numbness was coming from, she was keen to get more of it.

"I'm not so sure that's wise, love." His tone was gentle - almost patronizingly so.

"I don't give a shit," she snapped back.

Those dark brows of his shot upward. He paused, considering. At length, he decided against engaging in that particular battle and filled her tumbler once more. Instead of drinking it up immediately, she swirled the caramel-colored liquid and watched it glisten, inhaling the wafting scent of it.

He took a preparatory inhale. "Emma, love –"

"Don't." She interrupted. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You've yet to hear what I intend to say."

"I don't want to talk about any of it. Not the brig, not Clark, and certainly not my history with Baelfire nor his reappearance. None of it. Not yet. I want to turn my mind off for a while and forget." On that note, she swallowed her drink.

"Be that as it may," he spoke hesitantly. "You still have wounds that need tending."

Emma successfully stifled a scoff. That statement was more true than he knew, but she understood his meaning. The state of her body had nearly slipped her mind. Once her consciousness returned to it, however, the aches began to creep back in. He was right. If she ignored her injuries she would only pay the price later.

"Let me help." He insisted.

After a moment, Emma nodded. She slid herself off the bed, getting to her feet. As Killian stood, she lifted the shirt she wore over her head, not relishing the soreness in her arms and shoulders as she did so. She turned her back to him and heard a sharp intake of breath. This was his first view of the full extent of the physical damage that had been done to her over the last couple days. She'd yet to see it herself, for that matter. "How bad is it?" She inquired.

"Gods, this is..." He trailed off, carefully selecting his next words. "This is going to need more than a simple smearing of ointment for discomfort. This will grow infected if not cleaned and dressed. May I?"

Again, she nodded. When he stepped away to retrieve his wash basin, she grabbed the flask and took a deep swig directly from its mouth. She could feel the alcohol's warmth caressing her and coursing through her veins. Her tightly tensed muscles were softening under its effects. It was a welcome relief. Killian placed the bowl behind her on the table and seated himself on the edge. She could hear the water trickling as he wet a rag. Gently, he began to dab it against her broken skin. It was cold. A chill of goosebumps rushed over her shoulders and down her arms.

"It's lucky these aren't too deep," he intoned. "Still, they do cover a lot of area." The water splashed lightly again as he rinsed the rag and released a heavy sigh. "I'm so sorry, Emma."

"I said I don't want to talk about it." It sounded more sharp than she meant it to, but she made no apologies. She could practically hear his teeth grinding, but he bit his tongue and thankfully did not press the subject further.

Several moments passed while he worked in silence before his hushed voice drifted into her ear again. "Take a nice, deep breath, love. This'll sting a bit."

Emma followed the instruction, but didn't brace herself enough for the cascade of fire that burned outward from each spot he tapped with the rag. His hand moved with speed as he did this, hastening the process to get it over with sooner, but it seemed to intensify the fire she felt. She clenched her body with all the strength she could muster to better resist the pain, but it did little. Fortunately, it was soon over. Once it had subsided, he soothed the wounds by applying the cool water once more. At long last, he rubbed on the numbing ointment. The dexterous manipulations of his fingers compounded with the cream's ability alleviated her discomfort rather effectively.

She turned at the sound of tearing fabric and saw him ripping a sheet with his hand and his teeth – fashioning a bandage of sorts. He placed a large rectangle over the whole of her back, then secured it in place with long strips around her stomach and shoulders. "There," he announced, tugging the last knot into place with his mouth at the back of her neck. "How does that feel? Better, I hope?"

"Much," she breathed, turning to face him. Her bare nipples brushed lightly against his chest. She knew there was something that would make her feel even better still. With both hands, she grasped onto the collar of his coat and locked him into a needy kiss. He sank into it willingly, content to let her take what she wanted from him. His hand traced along her jaw to the back of her neck, staying above the abraded skin. His left forearm rested on the side of her hip.

Her fingers began to wander down his chest, flicking open the clasps of his vest as they passed. The warmth of his skin sent electric sparks of excitement coursing through her, and her pulse quickened. Her kiss grew as hungry and desperate as she felt. Her fingers worked faster, frantically flailing to grant her access to the escape she knew she could find in his body. When she reached the laces of his pants, his hand fixed around hers, stopping her.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers. His breath came a bit ragged. "Per your direction, I won't speak of them, but you've just endured several – shall we say 'disconcerting' – experiences. You've also had no small amount of rum. Are you sure this is what you want? Perhaps it's best to just sleep."

She could see the swell of him beneath his laces, and pried her hand free to reach for them again. "I am absolutely sure."

This time he allowed her to have her way. He groaned deliciously as she took his shaft into her palm and started stroking him more fully to life. His mouth found hers again, this time more fiercely, and she felt that rough scratch of his beard she'd grown so fond of. She moaned against his lips in satisfaction, and that seemed to be his breaking point. Fully stiffened, he guided her backward toward the bed, unfastening her pants over the few steps that it took. They dropped to the floor as Killian seated her on the edge of the high bunk, putting her hips directly in line with his.

Emma spread her knees wide and began to lean back, but Killian caught her with his forearm behind her head and neck. "Don't lie on your back," he cautioned. "I don't want to hurt you."

Instead, she clutched at the collar of his open coat to hold herself up as he slowly sheathed himself inside her, eliciting a little gasp of pleasure from her. She felt him throb inside her at the sound and his hips began to move. His thrusts were full and firm, and each time he pulled back, he dragged salaciously against her inner walls. Her feet wrapped behind his thighs and she shifted her hips to take him in even further.

She was feeling insatiable. He had her panting and her body already humming, but he was moving with restraint where she wanted recklessness. Each time he filled her, she pushed her hips harder toward his, demanding more. Reading her need but still not overly desirous of jostling her, his thumb found her little bud right at the place where they were joined. Emma released a small cry at the building sensation, but Killian shushed her. She bit down hard on her lip and tried not to whimper as the tiny circles his thumb traced became faster and more determined. As she felt herself explode, he smothered her screams of gratification with an unyielding kiss.

When he'd eased her back down, she laid a hand on his chest. "I want to ride you." She informed him.

Immediately, he shrugged out of his coat and vest, allowing them to drop to the floor. "If you would like the reins, m'lady, consider me your trusty steed." He withdrew himself only to lie down on the bunk and fulfill her request.

Emma positioned herself above him, one knee on either side of him. She wiggled a bit to get her angle just so, and then sank herself down onto his length. Both palms pressed against his chest, she rocked her hips. She found that, when she had him like this, his shaft made long strokes against her bead even as he triggered her deepest places. It was overwhelming.

Her breath already at a rapid pant, her motions became faster, harder, rougher. She was no longer in control; her body was acting of its own primal volition. She was elated to be able to surrender to it.

Killian's hand gripped tight at her thigh, now coated in a fine sheen of sweat. "Gods, Emma." He rasped out. "You'll finish me like this."

If she'd needed any motivation to increase her efforts, there it was. Her hips surged down onto his with a force that took the head of him into her very center. Again, and again, and then he cursed in satisfaction as she felt him pulse inside her. Again, and once more, and then the world went white as she went with him.