Oh. Killian. Aurora’s smile turned feline around the edges, as she turned, elbow skimming over the bar. The game he was playing at tickled some new animal ruminating inside her, and she made a throaty sound at the back of her throat in open invitation.
“What a gentleman,” she purred, turning to look at the bartender. “Sex on the beach.” She couldn’t drink them, of course, with the baby nestled inside her body, but asking for something as missish as a ginger ale or coke would ruin the image she was trying to perpetuate.
Her bluebell eyes returned to Killian’s, heavy-lidded, a perfect match for the smoky bar. “I hope I’m not taking you away from her friends,” she drawled, fingers drawing loops on the bar table. “Though I can’t complain about the improved company.”
The sound she made should’ve been impossible to hear over the smooth jazz that played but Killian heard it, so in tune with her and it went straight down his spine and his cock twitched to attention. She smelled delectable, fruity and floral and something inherently Aurora. Something that told him deep in his bones that she was his, and only his.
“They’re a pair of asses,” he sad, scratching his cheek as he leaned casually against the bar.
It was a fine balance of skirting the edges of her space, respectful, but the dark blue of his eyes hinted at the predator flexing under his skin.The predator purred at the way she looked at him and he leaned in a little more, giving her just a taste of what those eyes wanted. He was clean shaven for once, although his cheeks and chin were scratchy with how late it was and it felt as if they were two different people. “Name’s Jim.” He embraced the game, grinning at her with both youthful abandon and something very much Killian. “And you are…?”
when I’m good I’m very good
but when I’m bad I’m better
The heels were from Ruby, candy-apple red and sinful, the skirt one the waitress had picked out for her, just barely edging into the limit of this world’s idea of decency—one manicured brow perked in curiosity but Ruby was always willing for a bit of fun. And now Aurora was to. The blouse was more conservative than Aurora was in the mood for, but she likes the juxtapose of the flowing white and skin-tight black.
The lone bar in Storybrooke was not a usual haunt but she was feeling particularly daring tonight, and in no mood to play cautious princess to the sleepy town.
She stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind her, one hand reclined on her jutting hip. It was some kind of jazz night at the bar—the world had a wide variety of strange and nonsensical music, but Aurora had a fondest for the blues, the low and sultry voices of a time she’d missed in this world, singing about men who done her wrong and why don’t they treat her right? Aurora could relate.
Tendrils of wispy, white smoke coiled through the purposely tussled locks of her honeyed hair—she looked like a woman recently rolled out of bed, and more than willing to be convince to get back in.
That was true enough, Aurora decided, she was certainly in the mood, as they said here. If she questioned this sudden about-face in her own character, it was a fleeting thing—drowned out by the churn of her own, hot blood.
In the mood, as they said.
Killian had made it a point to try get out with Jefferson and Whale every couple of weeks, regardless of how he couldn’t particularly stand the doctor — he needed the man to tolerate him if his hand was ever going to have a chance of being replaced. Jefferson wasn’t a bad sort either and both man tended to pendulum between amusement and aggravation and introducing the pirate to all the wonders of this new world. Besides, Jefferson has drawled. Just because you’ve got yourself a girl doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.
It wasn’t like he was going home with any other woman anyway and Killian still liked to have the women preen and fawn.
It was out of habit that he looked up at the new patrons of the bar but this time his jaw went slack in shock. Aurora said she was going to stay in, perhaps do something with Mulan. Instead…
“G’night, gents,” he said, downing the rest of his ale and slapping a few bills on the table. His companions looked confused and then followed Killian’s look, making ‘oh’s’ of understanding.
Running his good hand through his hair, the pirate made his way to where the sprite made to sit at the bar. She looked delectable, more tantalizing than usual and he wondered if she’d done this on purpose. Pregnancy had made her run a bit hotter than normal but coming into a bar? He didn’t think he had anything to be worried about, although he enjoyed the contrast. She looked like a pastry on a platter, he in a plaid shirt and jeans that he’d been growing quite fond of.
“Another ale, friend,” he told the bar keep. He glanced at Aurora out of the corner of his eye but he allowed no familiarity in it. As if they were simply two strangers. “And whatever the lady would like to drink.”
Aurora couldn’t say that she was used to being picked and shifted about as if she were a doll. Her husband didn’t treat her like she was, but it was a strange sort of thrill to be aware of their deference in strength. She grasped his arms on the descent, blushing furiously at the feel of his hands on her hips, and was surprisingly want to release hims when her feet sunk into the soft give of sand.
“I understand, of course,” Aurora replied as she retreated from his grasp, still rosy in her cheeks. “It’s a heavy responsibility—I acted as hostess for Dorne since Prince Doran’s lady wife has long passed on. It can be very time consuming.”
Meandering with him down the lonesome stretch of beach, she frowned, thinking of sun-bleached Dorne. A pang of heartsickness twitched in her breast. “Dorne was warm, and wild,” she said. “Everyone here is so cold.” She blinked, realizing that she might have given offense, and lifting wide eyes to his. “I don’t mean—everyone is very nice, but they’re not as open, or—or inviting.”
He laughed, a true ringing sound and he tilted his head back as he did so. His blue eyes crinkled as he looked back over at her. “Aye, that it is. We’re not that much farther south than Dorne. I think Maester Cressen told me once it was because of the sea and the currents. Pity but it does get warmer, I assure you. The nice thing is that rarely does the air get oppressive, as it does in Storm’s End during the hotter months.”
Not that there were many cool months. Snow hadn’t touched the land in years, not this far south anyway. Why, the last time Killian had seen snow was during the Gryejoy rebellion, when he’d stayed at Winterfell. It was a sudden thought that despite the cold, perhaps Aurora would like to travel there one day. It had been years since he’d seen Ned, and Catelyn, he remembered, was kind and Tully’s were closer in manner to Tyrells, especially when it came to company such as Selyse.
“Shireen’s taken a liking to you,” he said after realizing that he’d been caught in thought, caught in staring at Aurora. His voice grew noticeably softer as he spoke of his little niece. “Edric has only ever been her only playmate — Stannis is not particularly fond of him and she’s the sweetest girl.” It went without saying that other children tended to be frightened or cruel to the child and it was clear that Killian was rather protective of the girl he’d displaced as Heir to Dragonstone, but Killian would keep her close, keep her safe, and protect her.
“I’m certainly not,” she protested, wiggling her fingers as his lips tickled them. She may have been far from the only person who mattered, but it was nice to feel like she did. In this little world, she was what mattered. She and the life that grew inside her.
The kiss was a heady thing and awakened needs and wants that had been dormant since the curse had taken hold. She would have merrily chased after his lips, enticed him to do a bit more—a lot more—except he was already breaking away. The world tipped as she was hauled into his arms and lifted from her feet.
“What on earth are you talking about?” she demanded. “I’m not sick or sleepy. There’s no reason for my being in bed in the middle of the afternoon.”
“Reading, resting, Rubic’s cube,” he said negligently as he made his way up the stairs. Killian had to resist stroking the backs of her knees — he really didn’t want to tempt fate by having her wiggle too much, especially now. He’d recognized the look that had flared in her bluebell eyes and had felt his own curl of response but he had other things in mind.
Nudging their bedroom door open with his foot, Killian slid Aurora back into the cradle of his arms and placed her reverently upon the bed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and stroked her hair before he moved away to the large closet. Flicking on the light he looked down upon the exceptionally large safe he’d installed when they’d first moved in. It did not have the same finesse as one of his chests but, Jefferson had said, it was nigh indestructible. There were all sorts of things stored inside — some of his more precious items off the Jolly Roger for example and it was one of those that he retrieved. The box was old and large, nicely carved with designs of a forest scene on its side.
Maneuvering only a little bit awkwardly he brought the small chest out and set it on the foot of the bed. He took a deep breath and looked at Aurora. “Je vous ai dit sur la façon animée Port Perrault était dans le temps de ta mère, n’est-ce pas?” She’d tried on teaching him her mother’s language and in the past and it had come out hesitant and his accent atrocious and while his accent still wasn’t the best, the words flowed from his lips rather easily that made up for his natural inflection.
// nnnn Megan giving me Jones Family feels
“How observant. Indeed, I am.” She busied herself with yanking on new underwear, wriggling into her pants that were close to no longer fitting. She sighed. As happy as she was about having a baby, there were some things she could do without. She tossed his a look over her shoulder. “I’m not even four months along. Women here work right up until the end. I’ll be fine.” She gnawed her lip a moment, decided not to mention the pains and complications that had plagued her mother through her pregnancies.
Killian returned her glance with a withering look and grabbed a pillow to rest his arms on. He admired the way her pale little behind wiggled as she moved, suppressing a grin at the slight roundness to her stomach and the little more effort she required to fasten her pants. “Well this world is full of rather crazy people,” he pointed out.
“Do you think blue’s a nice color?” he suddenly asked. “For either girl or boy?”