I Want You To Want Me
Prompt: I Want You To Want Me, by Letters To Cleo
Pairings: Swan Queen (Emma/Regina)
Rating: I'd say T.
Genre: Pointless fluff-fluff-fluff-fluff-FLUFF. Or romance. Hurt/comfort? I don't even know.
At the start of this little arrangement, you were the one in charge.
You dictated when she came over, when she left. You felt triumphant when you caught her eye on Main Street or in Granny's, and she flushed a deep red, no doubt reliving the night before. You controlled her in every way in the bed; straddling her hips as she writhed underneath you, pinning her wrists above her head as you savaged her mouth with kisses, always having the upper hand.
And it felt good. Whenever you wanted her, she came running. All it took was one phone call when you were alone at night and in ten minutes her little yellow Bug would be parked outside your drive, and she'd be at your door with a bottle of wine and that seductive smile, those hooded eyes. With her back pressed to the French embossed wallpaper in the hallway, her nails scraping up your back, your hands sliding everywhere, her hair, her hips, wanting all of her, hot lips pressed together, searing kisses, lips, cheek, jawbone, neck…
It was your, what, one month anniversary? And you'd invited her over for the evening for dinner. (Henry going to be was with the Nolans, and they were getting very well paid in advance.) She'd looked at you, mouth open, eyes wide, and you shifted in discomfort. You opened your mouth to fire off a snarky retort, mentally beating yourself up for putting yourself out like that, but before you could get a word in, her mouth was covering yours. It wasn't your usual kiss, filled with hunger, desperation, lust… This was softer, gentler. She broke away and the warmth in her eyes brought an involuntary smile to your face. You picked up on this, but decided not to make a big deal out of it.
Should you have? Maybe.
You'd gone all out on the food. Spent all afternoon cooking it, but it was worth it to see her eyes flutter as she swallowed a first forkful, worth it to elicit those little moans she probably thought she was hiding so well… Even with a good three metres between each end of the dining table, the air was charged. Lips unconsciously mirrored each other's eating, and you felt that familiar pool of heat run down to your core as she rolled a cherry tomato with her tongue.
She caught you looking.
Dessert became a silent battle to see who could rile up the other the most. You deliberately let out a little sigh as your lips slowly closed on a spoon of ice-cream, and you were rewarded with her body jolting as you flicked your tongue out to lick the rest off the spoon. In turn, her eyes sparkled as she dipped a finger in her bowl, sucked the cream (and you felt yourself tense as the innuendo caught up with you) and teased her fingertip with her tongue, keeping eye contact all the while.
Later that night, when you enacted revenge for her teasing, stole kisses and touches as punishment and accepted her cries as your prize, it felt different. Like there was a new layer there. As you watched her move underneath you, watched the light from the candles you'd lit flicker across her body, you marvelled at how someone so… beautiful could want this. Could want you. And how much you needed it. You needed her.
After you both collapsed, sweaty but sated, after she'd gained her breath, she threw you one last rogueish smile and bent to gather her clothing, strewn across the room. Heart in your mouth, lightheaded, you reached out an arm, traced a line down her spine.
She straightened up, turned to look you right in the eyes. Her face was blank, unreadable, expressionless.
God, you hated this. You hated this. You were supposed to be the one in control, goddammit. Not her. Not Emma. Not anyone.
You made a decision.
You swallowed once. Avoiding her eyes, you lifted your chin in a subconscious gesture of arrogance, defiance, pride. Asserting your independence. You got up, stepped around her clothing and got into the right side of the bed. You'd given her two choices- if she stayed, she stayed. If she left… god, you didn't even want explore why the very thought of her leaving brought an acid taste to your mouth and made your entire body clench, made you feel so empty. But no- you'd live, you'd carry on, because you didn't care, did you?
But the smile spreading on your face when you felt a brush of air and the movements of the mattress as she drew the covers over herself betrayed your true feelings.
And as you sank into the warm body pressing itself to your back and a hand tracing the peak of your hipbone, you found you didn't even care.
Damn, I haven't written fanfiction in ages. Never written Once Upon A Time fanfic before. I only discovered it last month.
Many thanks to BuzzCat, the starter of the prompt thread. I really needed the kick up the arse that was this prompt. I can write words, I can complete fanfics. This may not be my best work, but it's work, and that's what counts. So, thank you!
If anybody wants to point out any grammar/spelling mistakes, feel free. I literally just typed this all out in one go, haven't done anything more than do a cursory review, so I'm sure I've missed something. And hey, if anyone wants to beta, I'd love you forever!
Right now I have loads of fanfic ideas, but I have no idea how to work them. So if anybody wants to message me, have a little knock out of some ideas, or if you just want to give me a prompt, that would be amazing. Thanks, guys!
I'd love it if you reviewed, even if it's just one word. Thanks for reading anyway!