Title: Black Lace
Pairing: Swan Queen... sort of?
A/N: Written for a prompt on the OUaT kinkmeme:
Emma is walking by the Mayors house and she can see inside the bedroom.
Regina is changing and Emma watches.
Bonus point if: Regina realizes Emma is watching and puts up a show.
Super bonus point if : You turn it into voyeurism :-) Regina puts on a show and masturbates while Emma watches.
Disclaimer: Dont own 'em. Wish I did
It was later in the evening than she'd wanted. Probably too late, but she had to check. With a frustrated jerk against the gear shift, she parked the squad car and reached for her binoculars.
"You're going to stay away from me, Miss Swan. And more importantly, from Henry."
She shook herself, as if to clear the memory from echoing around another time in her head. It had been a week since she and Sidney had so disastrously confronted the mayor at the city council meeting. And in that time, she hadn't been able to see Henry in any ways that didn't involve the binoculars and walkie talkie. Both of which were in Emma's hands as she closed the door of her car as quietly as possible.
She wasn't entirely sure Regina didn't know about the walkie talkies, too. Every so often Henry's end seemed to break up and get interference from a pentecostal radio station. One moment her son had been going on about Operation Cobra and the next someone she'd never met was telling her she would surely burn in hell with the rest of the unmarried fornicators.
It was probably only a coincidence, but it was tempting to blame on the mayor, anyway. Emma wouldn't put it past her.
"You have no idea what I'm capable of."
Dammit, not again. With an irritated sigh, she cursed her mind, and took up her usual position. Quickly, she focused the binoculars on the house across the street. Her position had been carefully chosen- when it was very dark out, the row of hedges hid her quite nicely. Convenient of Regina to plant those there, really. One window up, two over...
Having watched her approach, Henry waved to her from his window, and then waved his walkie talkie, indicating she should turn hers on. Emma smiled in spite of herself, and did so. "Kid, you should really be in bed," she opened.
"I am! Well, I was. Kinda. But it doesn't matter, I had to see you first," came the slightly garbled but still very excited reply. "I knew you'd come by."
"Where's your mom?" It was always the first question; the most important, since the imposed no-visiting rule. If Regina was downstairs, it was okay- they could talk for a while. But if she was upstairs... Emma moved the binoculars away from Henry's window and directed them at the windows on the lower level, seeking out the mayor and hoping to find her.
"Down in the study, I think. Can't you see her?"
More frantically now, Emma searched the house, looking for any signs of movement. The study was empty, as was the dining room, the stairs, the hall... Something moved. The light on the porch flicked off. A shadow preceded her, and then Regina Mills entered her line of sight through the windows of the foyer, turning off lights as she left rooms. "She's in the hall," Emma relayed to her son. And then swore, but not over the walkie. "...Crap, kid. She's heading for the stairs. Get in bed!"
She looked back to Henry's window, watched him hurriedly back away from the window and leap under the covers. "Talk to you tomorrow!" he quickly hissed back before the walkie went dead.
Emma brought the binoculars back to the hall and waited with bated breath as Regina left her line of sight and headed up the stairs. There were no windows in that part of the house, so if she'd heard anything, the mayor would head left to Henry's room, if not...
Though the curtains were drawn, it was obvious when the light in Regina's bedroom turned on, and the sheriff breathed a sigh of relief. The mayor was making an early night of it, apparently. Briefly, she considered just hanging around. If Regina fell asleep quickly enough, she could still talk to Henry... She shook her head. It was too risky, and the kid needed his sleep. Better to just go home and try again tomorrow.
She put the walkie in the pocket of her leather jacket. Lowering the binoculars, she turned to go. The lighting around her suddenly increased. "Shit!" she hissed again, and ducked behind the bushes. Had Regina installed a floodlight?
No, it wasn't that much light... She poked her head up briefly. The mayor had just opened her curtains. She was turned away from the window, though, and sipped from a glass of something. Emma breathed again. She hadn't been seen.
Emma waited for a few moments before moving again, just to be sure. Henry's room stayed dark, she was glad to notice. Her eyes flitted back to Regina's window. The mayor had set her glass down at some point. Still she faced away from the window, and her hand reached behind herself, grabbing the top of her zipper.
What the hell is she doing undressing in front of the window? She thought for an irrational moment, before remembering that this wasn't Boston. The mayor's house was in a block by itself. No one was usually around at this time of night. There was no real need to worry about peeping Toms.
Unless they were Emma Swan, apparently.
Without even really knowing why, the blonde raised the binoculars again like a high school teenager, and watched as the two sides of the mayor's dress parted from one another, revealing the smooth skin of her back. The garment seemed to hover there, connected by an invisible strand and almost desperately clinging to the curves of her backside. Finally, Regina shrugged out of it completely, and the dress slid to the floor in a slow puddle of silk or whatever it was made out of.
If she'd thought about it, Emma would realize that she should have expected the lace. Black, of course, like everything else. She would not, however, have bet on the garters in lieu of nylons.
Emma thought about lowering the binoculars, about getting back to her car and heading home. She didn't. Instead the tip of her tongue parted her suddenly dry lips. This is crazy. I should go. I shouldn't still be... I definitely shouldn't be watching... Just get back to the car, start the engine, and get out of here. Quietly.
Bending over to unclip them, the mayor presented her unknown audience with a perfect view of her lace-covered ass. Emma felt her jaw drop, and any thoughts of leaving flew out of her head. Before this, she'd have grudgingly admitted Regina was attractive, if she had to. But... damn... Rolling down one stocking, the mayor stepped out of it, and turned a little towards the window to slowly begin the process of removing the other. It slid gradually down the skin of her leg as if she were effortlessly removing her own shadow. Her cleavage drew Emma's gaze next, and she found herself adjusting the focus on the binoculars to get a clearer image.
God, what would Regina say if she knew?
"You're gonna leave me, aren't you?"
No. Not that. Emma swore under her breath and pressed the binoculars closer to her eyes. Her own memory was taunting her. Again.
The stockings were gone, and soon after the belt that had attached them. Regina reached around herself, unclasping her bra one hook at a time. It, like the dress, seemed to resist coming off of her immediately. The straps came loose, falling down her shoulders in a slow decline.
Captivated, the sheriff found herself leaning a little closer to the hedge, almost falling into it. She didn't care.
Finally, the undergarment fell away. And Emma fell into the bush.
"Oof!" Tripping into the shrubbery had not exactly been on Emma's mind when she'd left the house this evening. Of course, neither had unintentionally staring at her son's adopted mother as she took off her clothes. And as she pulled herself out of the bush, Emma was almost more upset that she was missing some of the 'show' than that she'd fallen over. Stumbling back to a semi-upright position, Emma crouched down behind the bush and re-centered herself so she wouldn't fall again. Not when the round curve of Regina's bare breasts had just come into view.
She raised the binoculars to her eyes again and just stared. Emma had had her share of encounters with other women (she wouldn't call anything she'd ever had a 'relationship' by a long shot), and while she could certainly admire the softness of another woman's body, she'd never really considered herself a breast girl. But she might learn to make an exception...
Regina was still half-turned towards the window, the lamplight playing well over the newly-revealed skin of her chest. Her back arched, exposing her chest even more fully as she stretched. The mayor seemed to be enjoying her braless state, a feeling which Emma completely understood. Not that she could think much of anything, staring and practically drooling at the sight of such flawless skin.
Smooth... paler than the rest of her, Regina's breasts rose and fell slightly with each breath, the swells of them trembling as she moved. Her nipples were a dusky peach, and Emma had to blink at that. For some reason, she'd almost expected them to be the light plum-pink of her lips. As she watched, the mayor ran a hand down her own chest, stretching the other behind her head, forcing her breasts to thrust themselves into her waiting hand.
Holy fuck. For a moment, Emma was almost afraid she'd been seen and all this was some sick joke on the mayor's part. No one could be this naturally sexy. Could they?
Regina's head tipped backwards and to the side, towards the window, revealing closed eyes and parted lips. Her fingers ran over and under her breasts, and Emma found herself envying that hand. Then shook her head at herself for doing so.
The mayor's eyelids fluttered back open, looking for an instant directly out of her window. Startled, Emma shrank back, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. Or at least pretend it was there only because she didn't want Regina to see her. And not because an odd tingling feeling was rising from her stomach at what she was watching. Regina's gaze moved away from the window, and Emma gave a sigh of relief.
Cheeks flushing, she busied herself by adjusting the focus again, waiting a moment before daring to look again.
Now both of the mayor's hands were in front of her, trailing over her abdomen in a vague semblance of the gesture Emma had seen so often; Regina seemed to hold herself whenever she felt afraid or threatened. But from the expression on her face, which, granted, Emma could only partially see, the brunette didn't look at all to be threatened. Or afraid. She looked... rather like Emma felt at the moment. Her cheeks had a flush to them sheriff had never seen on them before, and when those full lips parted again, Emma could almost hear the faint murmur of pleasure that whispered out of them. Or at least she imagined she could.
She was suddenly entirely too warm, despite the slight chill of the Maine evening. With one hand still pressing the binoculars to her face, the other slowly moved to the zipper of her red jacket, and slid it down. Regina's hand moved in an echo of her own, trailing down the center of her chest again before slowly rising back to her breasts. Long, tapered fingers brushed across stiffening nipples. And began to toy with them. Slowly.
Emma felt her lips part of their own accord. Her mouth went dry. God, was Regina really going to masturbate? In front of the window? Right now?
As if in reply, Regina's fingers enveloped her nipples, taking them between them and forefinger and rolling them to even stiffer points. Her head tipped even farther backwards, white teeth sinking into her lower lip. Emma bit back a groan, not knowing whether to feel horrified or blessed. It was all she could do to keep watching, shifting uncomfortably in too-tight jeans.
Despite her discomfort, Emma's gaze was still glued to the unknowing performer. Her nipples now stiffened almost to the point of looking painful, the mayor seemed to turn her attention to her last article of clothing. Her head titled down to regard the black lace of her panties, almost as if seeing them for the first time. One of her hands continued at her breasts, zigzagging patterns between her nipples while the other slipped ever lower.
Emma's gaze followed, and the binoculars becoming unsteady in her grasp was the only clue she had that her own hands were shaking. She drew in a sharp breath, the exhale of it sounding ragged in her chest, and leaned closer still. Careful, this time, not to fall into the bush. Instead she just leaned into it. There might well be damage to it later, but she couldn't be bothered to care. Not when Regina's thumb hooked itself beneath black lace and began to inch it down her hips.
Her second hand left her breasts, lightly scratching her own fingernails down the length of her abdomen before joining the other. Emma's throat was dry, her breath labored as she watched. If Henry's curse had come undone in that moment, or Godzilla had begun attacking the clock tower in the center of town, she wouldn't have noticed.
Inch by torturous inch, the lace traveled lower, revealing the pale flesh it had so jealously guarded from Emma's eyes before now. The sheriff felt herself willing the mayor to hurry up. The anticipation was killing her. Finally, even Regina seemed to grow annoyed with how long this was taking. The lace fell to the floor, leaving the mayor at least fully nude. And completely unfettered from the eyes of her audience.
With a groan, Emma felt her knees weaken, and leaned even more of her weight on the hedge in front of her. There would definitely be a hole there. God, Regina was breathtaking. How had she never noticed that beneath all the jackets and turtlenecks was a body that flawless?
The mayor waxed extensively, she noted with interest, and had to laugh at herself for doing so. The laugh died in her throat when Regina's ever-questing hand began to toy over the well-groomed strip of her pubic hair. She was really going to... With her hand still teasing over her own mons, the mayor moved to sit on the edge of her bed. Emma cursed, and took a few steps to the right. She could still see. Mostly. Like hell she was going to stop watching now.
Fortunately for Emma, Regina had elected to sit still largely facing the window, her free hand bracing her weight behind her while the other teased above her heat, gradually parting the folds of her labia. Closing her eyes, the mayor's head tipped backwards again, and Emma wished she was close enough to hear the groan when she slid two fingers within herself.
Her own, however, was definitely audible, and Emma was suddenly even more appreciative of the lack of neighbors. She shifted again, uncomfortably aware of her own arousal. Annoyed that her pants were too tight to just slide her own hand down inside, she seriously considered unbuttoning them. But that was a two-handed job, and there was no way she was going to look away for even an instant.
Now that her head was leaned back, Regina's face was hidden from her. Emma compensated by zooming the focus in even more, staring unblinking as the mayor's hand moved away herself. Her fingers glistened. Straightening her back a little, Regina held her hand in front of her face, seeming to study it for a moment. Emma re-focused the binoculars just in time to watch as those luscious, full lips parted, enveloping the tips of her fingers. Tasting herself.
Emma moaned again, louder this time. Her mouth was no longer dry; it seemed to have the complete opposite problem now. The mayor's tongue was visible, cleaning her fingers of her wetness and drinking her own taste in. Emma felt irrationally jealous. Then blinked at herself for it. She'd never thought of Regina that way before, she had no claim on her. There was no reason she should be... The mayor's hand moved back to her heat, and the sheriff promptly lost her line of thought.
Two fingers became three, and Emma could only watch, wishing without knowing why that she was in the mayor's room with her. Hearing her. Feeling her. Tasting her. The crotch of her jeans was now incredibly wet. Still, she watched.
Regina's teeth were buried in her lower lip again as she pressed her fingers inside herself, going faster with each thrust. Her thumb moved to rub circles over her clit, and brown eyes squeezed tightly closed. Hips arching into her own hand, Regina's mouth opened in what had to be a silent cry. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Her fingers danced as she fucked herself, almost moving faster than Emma could see. The sheriff was panting now, her breathing in time with the erratic rise and fall of the mayor's chest.
A dull sheen of perspiration covered Regina's body, shining in the light of her lamps. The arm behind her began to tremble, buckling beneath her weight as the other continued to plunge its fingers deep inside of her. Regina opened her eyes, arched her back even further, and tensed.
She was coming.
Emma couldn't decide where to look. The binoculars flitted between the fingers inside the mayor, the heaving chest glistening with sweat. Finally, she settled on Regina's face, shuddering from her own desire at the look of ecstasy on features that were so often crossed with anger.
The fingers continued to thrust throughout her orgasm. Evidently, Regina was set on making it last as long as possible. Emma didn't mind. Even as uncomfortably aroused as she she was, she was torn between feeling like she could watch forever and the burning desire to knock the door down, shove Regina against one of the columns on the porch and take her right there.
...Where the fuck had that thought come from? Unsettled, Emma's hand faltered. The binoculars lowered, and she swallowed through still ragged breaths. She was shaking, and shook herself even further to compensate. It was long past time to go.
...After one more look. Unable to resist, she took a last glance through the binoculars, wanting to see that look of pleasure on Regina's face one more time. She doubted she'd ever see it again.
It wasn't there. Though she was still sitting on the bed, Regina was looking at the window. At her. And smiling. Slowly, leisurely, she stood and approached the glass.
"Shit!" Emma gulped under her breath, certain she'd been seen. Unwilling to wait around, she bolted for her car, taking care to duck behind the hedges as much as she could. Tossing the forgotten walkie talkie and the binoculars into the passenger seat, the squad car roared to life almost before she'd closed the door behind her. She shifted gears and prepared to drive off, cursing at herself. She'd have to drive past the house.
...Regina wouldn't be able to prove anything. Odds were she'd only caught a glimpse of her, if that. And she could always just say she'd been out on her usual patrol. Nothing to worry about, then. As she passed by the house, she took one final glance towards the mayor's bedroom.
From it's discarded position beside her, the walkie talkie suddenly crackled to life. It emitted nothing but static, but nonetheless elicited a decidedly girly shriek from the sheriff. Startled, she hit the gas and started driving, fumbling for the stupid thing as she pulled away from the mayor's house. She failed to reach it before it hissed in static again.
"Miss Swan," crackled the walkie talkie. The voice was a little labored, but nonetheless still commanding enough to send a shiver down her spine. "I'll be sending you an invoice for the damage to my hedge. ...Do enjoy the rest of your evening."
It clicked off. Emma stared at it, then glanced back at the window, a blush and the lump in her throat both rising to full prominence. "...Fuck," she said to no one.
When Emma Swan finally went to bed that night, she slept fitfully, and dreamed of pale skin and black lace.