Emma doesn't really believe in heaven (or fairytales, for that matter) but she's pretty sure she's going to hell for this little plan. She waits at the end of the driveway, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, until the walkie-talkie crackles into life.
"The Eagle-" Henry begins, but Emma cuts him off with her talk button.
"Henry," she says. "Is your mom in the shower or not?"
"Yeah," Henry confirms, sounding a little hurt that Emma still won't play the game properly. "Good luck."
Emma wonders if the kid would still say that if he knew her true mission tonight.
The front door lock is even easier to jimmy than the garage, and Emma wonders if she should suggest that Regina get a better security system than basic locks and intimidation. Probably not the time or the place, though. Getting upstairs takes no time, because Regina's perfect home has no creaking steps to catch Emma out.
The hallway is the last hurdle, because Emma has counted the windows enough times to know which room is Henry's... naturally, the one opposite the master bathroom. This is why the whole scheme is stupid, Emma thinks, groaning inwardly. It's bad enough she's had sex with Regina three times already since hooking up in the observation room at the police station, but actively seeking out another encounter leaves Emma thinking she might have gone crazy after all; at least in this town she'll be in good company.
By some miracle, Henry doesn't hear her approach, even though his bedroom door is slightly open. Emma feels a little funny observing that-she's spent so long demonizing Regina in her head that these careful little gestures of motherhood take Emma by surprise.
But here it is: sink or swim time. Emma takes a deep breath and reaches for the door handle. A second later, she's closing the door behind her and looking across the huge bathroom for Regina, who's nowhere in sight.
The water in the (oh-my-God-gorgeous) waterfall shower is running though, and Emma knows enough about doing without luxuries to know a great one when she sees it. She's wriggling out of her leather jacket when Regina appears from a door on the other side of the bathroom, wrapped in a black silk robe.
"Hi?" Emma offers, awkwardly, raising her hand in a kind-of wave. It's enough to startle Regina, who looks genuinely panicked until she registers that the door behind Emma is closed.
"But Henry-" Regina starts to warn.
"Don't worry," Emma assures her, reaching to pull off her boots, one after the other. "I made sure he'll stay in his room."
"How..." Regina says, but her eyes are raking up and down Emma's body as the Sheriff begins unbuttoning her jeans.
"Do you care?" Emma asks, because she already knows the answer. She doesn't want to answer questions about codes and walkie-talkies and the fact that Emma broke in illegally a few nights ago, not even now that Kathryn has miraculously shown up and is resting in the hospital, under sedation.
"I suppose not," Regina says, with a shrug. Her hands drift immediately to the loose knot at her waist, and Emma's halted from shoving her jeans down with anticipation. "I'm having a shower," Regina adds, quite unnecessarily. "Am I to assume you're joining me?"
"What do you think?" Emma asks, kicking off her jeans and reaching for the hem of her tank top. They can't ask each other nicely, can't admit out loud that either of them wants this, because that would be far too dangerous ground. Instead they snipe at each other with sarcasm and posturing, until they're close enough to not need words anymore. Speaking of which, Emma has the rest of her clothing on the floor in record time, leaving her free to walk across and undo Regina's robe herself.
"You should conserve water better," Emma says, with a nod towards the running shower that Regina still hasn't set foot in.
"That's why I'm showering with someone else," Regina replies with a smirk. Her hands are already gripping Emma's bare hips, and with her robe out of the way it feels like Emma's just unwrapped an especially hot gift.
"Come on, then," Emma suggests, but Regina claims a kiss first-her mouth hot and insistent against Emma's own, tasting of brandy and the faintest trace of mint. Emma loses herself in the sensations for a moment, moaning softly as Regina strokes gently with her tongue. It's not getting any less intoxicating, Emma worries, and the fourth time feels just as exciting as the first.
Regina pulls back, her eyes heavy-lidded as she looks at Emma, still suspicious (still waiting for the other shoe to drop). Emma smirks and takes Regina's hand, leading her to the glass doors that house the cascading water. Stepping inside is like being whisked away to a rainforest, and the clammy heat of it reminds Emma of Tallahassee at first. She shakes off the memories, pulling Regina to her as they slip beneath the falling water.
"I'll say this for you," Emma says as she lays teasing kisses along Regina's jaw. "You have great taste in bathrooms."
"Well, in the absence of a real waterfall," Regina snarks, leaning back against the marbled wall. "I suppose this will do."
Emma kisses Regina greedily, because she tastes different with water cascading down her face, because she looks different with her makeup scrubbed off, because she might just be different enough for this not to be what it really is, outside of this room. When Regina's lips are soft and pliant, and her fingertips are dancing up and down Emma's spine in little splashes of water, it's easy to forget that Emma is supposed to hate her, that they've been waging war for months now and that this is somehow the ceasefire. It's soldiers playing soccer on Christmas Day, or something, Emma's a little hazy on the few history classes she actually bothered to pay attention in.
It feels more intimate, somehow, when their skin slips and slides against each other. This isn't a quick and dirty fuck against a mirrored wall, or a frantic bout of fingering against the side of Emma's car in the woods. It's calmer, but more insistent than two nights ago in Emma's bed, when she'd make Regina shriek and sob through three orgasms, while Emma tried hard not to feel bad about betraying Mary Margaret in the woman's own home.
But Emma's pretty sure now that this mess is beyond even Regina's influence, so while her conscience isn't exactly clear, Emma can cup Regina's breasts gently and lick her nipples to hardened peaks while Regina mutters encouragement above her.
"Is this what you want?" Emma asks, just loud enough to be heard over the spray. "You want my mouth on you, Regina?"
"Yes," Regina snaps, still not accustomed to asking nicely.
"You want me to keep going?" Emma continues, sinking slowly to her knees with a splash. "You want me to do you like this?"
"Fuck, yes," Regina hisses, and Emma rewards her by parting Regina's folds with her thumbs.
"Right here?" Emma asks again, but she doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, she dips her head just a little and flicks her tongue over Regina's clit. That alone is enough to make Regina's knees tremble, and for the first time Emma considers that the Mayor might seem to need this every bit as much as Emma does.
The shower keeps on pouring, and Emma's hair is plastered to her head as she dives back in to keep working her tongue in deft, random flicks. She doesn't want this to be over too soon, not tonight, and so she doesn't allow Regina to build up any kind of rhythm, no matter how desperately she thrusts her hips towards Emma's mouth. Occasional streams of water run down Regina's body in the right way to splash against Emma's tongue, but the blandness of the water just offsets the addictive tang of how Regina tastes.
"Please," Emma hears falling from Regina's mouth. "Please please please," and it's like a mantra, dissolving into a frustrated sob. Emma Swan is many things, but she's not a sadist (even though Regina draws that streak out of her like nobody else on earth). She relents, taking two fingers of her right hand and thrusting them inside Regina, crooking them forwards just enough to make sure Regina's knees do buckle. This time when Emma flicks her tongue over Regina's hardened clit, she's taking no prisoners. It seems to take no time at all until Regina is undone, her cries muffled by her own hand while the other strokes aimlessly over Emma's wet hair.
"Damn," Emma mutters, getting off her slightly sore knees, using Regina's hips for leverage. "You needed that, huh?"
"Shut up," Regina groans, her eyes still closed and her hand still resting on her face.
"Won't," Emma sasses, kissing Regina shallowly, until Regina grabs Emma and makes it a deeper kiss, licking the taste of herself from Emma's lips and tongue.
"Stay," Regina murmurs, reaching blindly for the shower controls. "Stay," she repeats as the water shuts off, and this time the word carries much more weight.
"Here?" Emma blurts. "With you?"
"For the night, Miss Swan," Regina sighs. "I wasn't proposing a change of address."
"Oh," Emma replies, her mind racing with how to say no and still get laid before fleeing. It's not exactly her finest moment, but just as Regina seems to sense Emma's internal scheming, Emma hears herself saying the last thing she intended. "Okay."
"Good," Regina breathes, smirking but still looking relieved. She opens the shower door and pulls fresh, fluffy towels from the rack, wrapping one around her own body before reaching around Emma to do the same for her. "Don't drip on the floor, dear," Regina warns, but she sounds too relaxed for it to carry any real malice.
Emma grabs a smaller towel on the way out, for her hair, and then considers the closed door and whether they'll be able to sneak past Henry. Instead, Regina walks across to the other door and beckons for Emma to follow.
"My bedroom," Regina says simply, waving Emma through. Emma's surprised that it's actually quite modest, by Regina's standards. The room looks more comfortable than anything else.
She turns to Regina, whose dark hair is slicked back from her face, and Emma kisses her soundly. It's safer than trying to express what a big deal this is, how Emma doesn't do this, and that she's going to do it anyway. Regina's hands are trembling as she cups Emma's face, and that is somehow enough to settle Emma's own nerves.
"Now," Emma says, dropping her towel with very little ceremony and launching herself onto the bed. "I believe you owe me a little something."
And the predatory smile on Regina's face says that Emma is very much going to get it.