When she first made her way to the holding cell, she already had his mold in mind. In terms of appearance, he would be like Snow, she thought, all cheeks, baby fat, and eyes sickeningly sweet with innocence and hope. A child in every sense of the word, except biologically. But surprisingly, she was wrong. He was actually a man.
Even more surprising still, Snow managed to cause this man to fall for her. But Snow White was so stupid. Not in terms of intellect, no, the girl was clever, but immature, with a perception skewed by the coupling of naïveté and optimism. The Prince's eyes were worn and aged by experience, contrasting his youthful, and completely gorgeous face. How could someone like that be wholly enamored with someone so delicate and child-like?
The man was, after all, shockingly handsome. And at the moment, bound by chains and some of the most powerful enchantments Regina could conjure. The Queen smirked, showing a little bit of teeth in hungry anticipation. Only a complete idiot wouldn't take advantage of such an opportunity.
She managed to find the tightest corseted bodice in her wardrobe; one of a dark, vampy red, with gold lace accents that gave the color the metallic sheen of fresh blood. Her hair cascaded down in its natural length; the deep side part covering one eye and the silky ends brushing against the shelf of her corseted décolletage. She placed a bit of musk on the pulse point in between her breasts and began to make her way to the belly of the palace.
The dampness and filth of the dungeon was revolting; Regina only went here if something was available to her benefit. And there it was, shackled, dirt marring his jaw and blisters marring his hands from futile attempts to escape. He was curled in a small corner of the cell, exhausted, and having forfeited all the disobedience he once possessed. Perfect.
"What the hell," he growled quietly from the shadows, "are you doing here?"
"Oh, I always make sure my prisoners have the proper accommodations. Are you enjoying your stay?" Her voice tightened, feigning a cruel and sarcastic interest. The Prince stayed silent, like a banished child pouting on the way to his room. Maybe he wasn't nearly as mature as she thought. It didn't matter. All she really needed was a pretty toy to pass the time. With a wave of her hand, Regina slid the bars open. The Prince lurched forward, choked back by heavy chains. His attempt was met by a throaty and patronizing giggle.
"If you're going to end me, you might want to try a little harder than that." His icy eyes turned hot and branded her with every feeling of hate in his body.
"Oh, now that's not a happy face. Cheer up, now there's no dowry to pay," she offered, flashing a mouth of sharply white teeth. For the first time in their meeting, he lifted his chin up to face her.
"You're not invincible, you know. You're not even strong." His voice was stern, but his eyes were drooping with fatigue and sadness. "I know you're under the impression that everyone here are just marionettes for your sick, disgusting show, but you're just too weak for that much control. " Regina lifted an eyebrow at his brazenness. "Each one of your quests for revenge, your anger; it eats away at that strong wall of hostility. Soon, you'll just crumble."
She slithered closer to him, facing him until she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. She lifted a hand to his torso, stopping just fractions of inches away from steel armor. Sparkling brown eyes looked the Prince up and down, like a snake sizing up its next meal. Regina met the Prince's hardened stare, suddenly softened with a potent mixture of fear and ignorance.
The Queen lowered her voice to whisper, even though there was nobody in the cell that could hear her at normal volume. "Alright then, let's see how much control I don't have." She licked her lips, and traced a long burgundy nail down the line of his middle. When he tried to slap her hand away (again), Regina snapped her fingers, and strangling vines appeared out of the stone floor, binding his wrists and ankles, leaving him prostrate on the floor.
"What the hell are you doing? You insa-," he managed to yell out before Regina's mouth silenced his protest. She pulled away, her face marked with her most maniacal grin, and eyes turned golden with lust.
"Get off of me, crazy bitch," the Prince rasped, still out of breath from the kiss.
Regina's giggle chilled the Prince's blood like icy river water. "Maybe I am little bit crazy. Aren't you going to try to stop me? Remember? I don't have any control after all. " She glanced over to the tight green restraints on his wrist. The Queen pouted, sticking out her already-swollen lip, "Oh, well that's a shame isn't it. So much time and nowhere to go." She was kneeling on the ground above him, knees in between his thighs, and almost immediately she dove back in; like a vulture relishing her kill. The kiss wasn't nearly as polite as the first; it was all clicking teeth and heavy breath, and lips were stretched upward between sharp fangs.
Regina licked off the blood she had drawn from the Prince's mouth.
"You're not gonna win. I won't let you," the Prince panted out, dark red liquid still shining at the corner of his lips.
Regina let out a long sigh. "Oh, just give up. Think of this as one battle, not the whole war. Even if though I'll probably win that too." With that, she relinquished her spot, standing to face the bars; the Prince began to glow with an air of hope. Until Regina removed her cloak. And her red bodice. And her skirt. And her petticoat. She turned back to face the Prince, long black hair barely covering her breasts. Olive skin seemed to radiate in the candlelit cave.
The Prince leaned his head back in frustration. "Why are you even doing this? I don't want you," he bit out.
"Snow doesn't deserve something quite so…" she paused taking in a heavy and sultry breath, eyeing his lips, "beautiful." Naked, she kneeled between his legs again, and kissed him. This time, he kissed her back, tears streaming down his face as he did. Regina migrated her mouth down his jawline, and as her hands fiddled with the tie of his trousers and the clasps of his armor, he squirmed; like a bug crushed and dying against a wall. Regina removed his steel vest and mail and threw it to the ground with a sound identical to thunder. He was still crying, and she chuckled at how advantageous vulnerability proved to be. Using a claw-like grip, she ripped his cotton shirt away, nails scraping down his chiseled features.
Regina made a trail with her lips down his chest, sucking and nipping, leaving a map of marks. She had branded the Prince as another one of her playthings. The Queen untied his trousers, and watched as the man's hands writhed and made phantom motions as if he thought he could escape. Regina looked up, beaming.
"Don't be a fool, Charming." She peeled off the trousers slowly. The loudest, most evil laugh of the evening came when she saw how hard he had gotten in the last moments. "Oh. So you don't hate me that much, do you, Young Charming?" She met his gaze, and his eyes still sparkled with the shine of tears.
"Don't," he let out a quiet sob, "Don't hurt her like this. It's not worth it."
"Oh, Charming, don't cry. You're the warrior, remember?" Her words were sympathetic, contrasting the true nature of her raspy, patronizing voice. The Queen ran a dark pink tongue down him, and he hissed with a painful cocktail of pleasure and remorse, eyes looking to the sky with guilt. "I'm not hurting her. I'm helping you." And she took the whole of him in, devouring him like some obscene candy.
The Prince tried not let his eyes wander; but there were breasts, and there was the beautiful curve of a woman's hips. It was like the sweetest poison he had ever tasted.
"Charming, look at me. Look at me helping you. I was fairest of them all long before she was."
"Shut up! I don't want you," he screamed.
"I beg to differ," Regina purred. She clawed her way up his body, and kissed him again, her tongue taking the place of his disobedient words.
The Prince's eyes were closed, and all he could do was feel. He tried to imagine Snow's body on his, but he couldn't. Snow could never do something this primal, this abrasive. Regina straddled him in one smooth motion, guiding him in to the heat of her core. He tried not to mirror the forward motion of her hips, not to give in, but the burning pain in between his legs made him forfeit all attempts of abstinence.
The Queen began to punctuate each fluid wave of their bodies with high pitched whimpers, and watched in delight as each staccato noise hit him like daggers to the soul. He thrust into her, with force and strength as if he was trying to rip her apart from the inside out, and the Queen relished in the pleasurepain. She moved her own hand down to the bundle of nerves at her center (as the Prince was incapacitated at the moment) and began to moan in a hushed and aching way.
Soon thrusts became sporadic and motions crazed, and Regina knew they were both touching the edge of complete euphoria.
"Look at me in my eyes Charming! I want to see you give in. I want to see you lose," she moaned out in anticipation. She detached the hand she had dug into his shoulder (the other still in between her own thighs), and enchanted his eyes open.
And finally he let go, coming with a shout of despair, and eyes enlarged with fear. Regina was trembling, her body radiating, sweat making her skin look like bronze. After a few moments she chuckled, deep from inside her abdomen.
The Queen sat up straight and began to put on all her garments with much more decorum than when she had taken them off.
She made her way out of cell, deadlocking the bars behind her. With a swift motion of her wrist, the vines around the Prince's hands and feet slowly unwound themselves, leaving him to lie naked on the floor. Regina smoothed the wrinkles out of her cloak, and began to make her way to the palace. But before she left the dungeon, she turned one last time to face the Prince, glaring.
"Don't you see? I'll always have control."