A/N: sheriffswan, you goon. I love you.
P.S. Everybody hush up about Hook and Rumple’s contextless scenes and have some Captain Swan smut, it’s far better for the soul :D
It’s the eerie stillness in the apartment that tips her off as she’s throwing her keys on the table, makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and her stomach jump into her throat. She’d always prided herself on her quickness but before she knows it, before she can brace herself, she’s being shoved roughly into the door.
Emma curses, instinctively bucking and trying to to get free, but she’s trapped against the wood beneath the hard, muscled lines of a masculine body, one arm twisted behind her back. His face is close, lips grazing the shell of her ear while hot little puffs of air move across it.
"You have something of mine," he hisses quietly, lilting accent sounding much more gruff and deep than usual. "I want it back."
She shivers involuntarily, a jolt shooting down her spine as the scent of sea and spice (that had actually been with her all day) is suddenly amplified by his physical proximity. It’s amazing how quickly her body responds to it, to him, how fast it goes from burning aggression to burning desire the second she realizes it’s Killian.
"Oh, I don’t know, I actually pretty fond of it," Emma replies, only a little breathlessly though very much taunting. "I think I’ll keep it."
If she’s going to be honest, she’d been wondering how long it would take him before he’d come after her. It’s barely been a full 24-hours, and needless to say, she isn’t disappointed.
"Tis a dangerous game you’re playing, Swan," he says darkly, pressing a little closer, hips aligning with hers from behind.
There’s a sharp thrill that zips along her skin because if he wants his stupid (glorious) jacket back, he’s damn well going to have to take it (she hopes he does, as forcefully and as roughly as he pleases, thank you) because she is not just handing it over to him. Pfft, as if.