"Killian," Emma keened, her back arching off of the queen-sized bed. "Killian, please."

All there was in response was the sucking of her clit into his mouth and Emma gasped, digging her hands into Killian's hair, pulling and pushing and Jesus Emma couldn't take this anymore. Killian had been at it for the past half hour, taking his time on her, going slowly and steadily, sweetly and lovingly. She hadn't had any kind of guy spend this amount of time on her, sucking and nibbling (honestly, Killian was the first guy who ever really seemed to want to do this to her.)

(He was the only guy to see her like this. Completely wrecked and gasping as his fingers arched right there and his tongue flicked against her like that.)

Emma could feel the familiar coil in her stomach, pulling tighter and tighter and God she was right there, right fucking there.

"Ohmygod, please," Emma moaned out, digging her fingernails into Killian's scalp, pulling him closer. "God, don't stop."

"I don't plan on it, love," Killian rasped out with his mouth just hovering over her clit, desire laced in his tone.

(God, she loved it when he spoke like that.)

Killian returned to his spot between her legs and sucked her sore nub back into his mouth, making Emma gasp again. Emma began squirming, just needing her climax to come. Killian arched his fingers inside of her and stroked them against her inner wall, while twirling her bundle of nerves in his mouth. Emma's arm splayed back out onto the bed, gripping the sheets tightly. She felt herself flying higher and higher and needed something to keep her grounded, so she wouldn't float off of the bed and into the ecstasy that she could feel barreling toward her.

"Come for me, Swan," Killian groaned out against her mound, feeling her tighten around his fingers.

With one last twirl of his tongue around Emma's clit, the coil burst in her belly and Emma gasped loudly. Her grip tightened on the sheets and Emma arched high off of the bed, spots bursting in front of her eyes as Killian continued to stroke her through her orgasm. It seemed to be an eternity later that Emma grounded herself from the golden-tipped peak of her climax. Her heart beat wildly in her chest (so hard that Emma wouldn't have been surprised if it actually broke through her chest) and she tried to regain her breath. Emma watched Killian crawl back up her body with that predatory smile plastered across his face, obviously proud of his work.

"I love watching you come undone," Kilian whispered against Emma's glistening chest, soaked with sweat from her fifth orgasm in three hours. Killian hovered over her with his arms pressed on either side of Emma, pressing gentle kisses wherever he could reach.

Emma gulped, being distracted from the way Killian's beard scrapped against her bare breasts and her neck and God she already needed him again.

(Emma wondered if that feeling would ever go away. The constant needing and wanting.)

(Emma hoped it wouldn't.)

Emma placed her hand under Killian's chin and pulled his face up to her, kissing him slowly and gently and savoring the way she tasted on his tongue. Emma pulled away, nudging her nose against his and looked into his dark blue eyes. "And I love you making me come undone."

Killian smiled, boyish and God he looked so young and Emma promised herself to make him smile like that more often. At least they now had their entire lives for that. "It was my pleasure, Swan."

Emma smiled sweetly at Killian. "You know, you can't exactly call me that anymore."

Killian flashed the biggest and brightest smile at Emma and she couldn't help but smile back. "But, you will always be my Swan, Mrs. Jones." Killian kissed Emma again, tracing his tongue along her bottom lip. Emma sighed and allowed Killian to sweep his tongue inside of her mouth, dancing together in a way only they knew. Killian pulled away and, in an absolutely sinful voice, said, "Perhaps another round, my wife?"

Emma smiled widely (God, she wasn't gonna get used to this) and was honestly considering another round of them tangled together, hips bumping and loud moaning. But, Emma could feel the utter burn against her thighs and the achiness of her clit. "My mind wants to, but my body is done for."

Killian chuckled deeply, his chest shaking against Emma's bare breasts, his chest hair prickling deliciously against Emma's sensitive nipples. "Of course, my love. Let us sleep. We have an entire week just to ourselves."

Killian fell to the side and pulled Emma closely to him, fitting together perfectly. Because they were always meant for each other.

Emma could kill him.

She couldn't move her legs an inch without feeling the ache between her legs and the burn on her thighs. But no, she wasn't about to give her new husband the satisfaction of knowing that he has officially killed her thighs and everything below the belt.

She could practically see the smug grin on his face if she ever told him that.

She moved around the kitchen in the cabin where her and Killian were for their honeymoon (somewhere not too far from downtown Storybrooke, just in case Robin and her father couldn't handle the station by themselves). As Killian continued to sleep (for a man who insisted that he rose with the sun everyday on the Jolly Roger, he slept until noon in a decent bed), Emma worked around the kitchen on pancakes for the two of them. With every step, she winced because of the wonderful burn between her legs. With every step, she remembered the way Killian's head between her legs looked, or how it felt to have his tongue sweeping every crevice of her.

Fuck, now she was horny again.

Just as Emma was finishing pancakes, she heard the gentle patting of bare feet against the cold, hardwood flooring that went throughout the cabin. Emma looked up from the stove, where she was flipping the pancakes, and saw her new husband, standing shirtless with the definition of bed head. Emma suppressed a laugh at the way his hair was just everywhere and turned back to the stove.

"Good morning, sunshine," Emma taunted Killian, rubbing her thighs together at the sight of his bare chest, even if it ached more and more with each movement.

"Good morning, love," Killian responded as he walked over to Emma, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her neck.

And, dammit, that did so much to her.

Killian continued to kiss her neck, tracing his tongue along her collarbone and up to her ear lobe, where he nibbled gently. Emma gulped back a moan as she tried to focus on making the pancakes. Killian's fingers slowly-tortuously- made their way past the elastic of Emma's sweatpants, down to where she wanted him most.

And fuck, it hurt.

Emma inhaled through her mouth loudly and Killian's hand immediately withdrew, turning Emma toward him as he furrowed his eyebrows. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little sore," Emma responded, because she knew there was no skating around this anymore.

Killian raised an eyebrow (god dammit) and that stupid ass, smug grin formed on his face. "Are you now?"

Emma sighed, placing a hand on her hip as she held onto the spatula. "Yes, alright. In fact, it hurts to walk or even move my legs since you wanted to make me come a few times."

And dammit, that grin just spread even wider as Killian stepped toward Emma. "I only did that because you looked bloody ravishing in that dress, Swan. And it was five times, to be exact, love."

Emma turned back to the pancakes, turning off the stove as she noticed that the pancakes were perfectly brown. "Go sit, pirate."

Killian chuckled under his breath as he walked over to the small dining table against the wall beside the bedroom door. And no, Emma did not watch her husband walk over to the table because he absolutely did not have the greatest ass.

Never.

"So, how was the honeymoon?" Mary Margaret asked as she slid into the booth, across from Emma and Killian.

Emma smiled and clasped Killian's hand under the table, rubbing her thumb along his hand. "It was great. We loved the cabin."

"So, what did you two do?" Mary Margaret questioned as she leaned over Neal's carrier, watching her son sleep.

"We ate out a bit," Killian replied with that smirk.

Emma stomped on his foot under the table.