A/N: ...oh, come on. Don't act like the rest of you hadn't thought of this. Cora and Regina are incredibly subtext...y. Cora is so manipulative and incestuous that it kills me. She wants Regina to love her, and only her, and her daughter's love is her ultimate desire. It goes beyond normal boundaries, and enters the realm of possessive love and just plain incestuous behavior. I'm not saying I think Cora was ever sexually abusive towards Regina. Quite the opposite, actually. I think the emotional abuse was first, and as things went on and as once Danial was dead and once she made it to Storybrook, cementing Regina's need for her would mean giving her the comfort she would need from a lover. For Regina to need and love only her, Cora would need to manipulate her even more and provide the kind of interactions she would normally seek elsewhere. It is so many fucking kinds of messed up, and it's not unlike the Hattie/Olga fics I wrote. It's nearly the same thought process and boundary-breaking possessiveness. The psychology of it is so fascinating, and I can't help but write it. Cora does love Regina, but in the most fucked up way imaginable. "Love is weakness," and their weaknesses are each other.
Sorry, I'm not sorry.
I do not own Once Upon a Time.
It was so hard.
Taxing. Horrible. Awful. Loathsome.
Every negative adjective she knew. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel, trying, willing, wanting, failing to pretend her mother wasn't there. She could hear her breathing, hear her prattling on and on about these carriages are so strange! And in some fucked up way, she found her mother's carelessness to the ways of the modern world kind of...cute. Using such a word to describe her mother made her want to vomit, but the thought was already there and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.
But, god she wished there was.
Every time she glanced over at Cora, she saw those gloved hands twitch—twitch and fumble with the material of her dress and it was all so rehearsed and faked, and she remembered all those nights, when her mother would sit in her chair by the fire after an argument. She would look defeated sometimes, rather than angry, and the pathetic, hurt look on her face would bring Regina to her knees.
Regina's mouth felt so dry. She wanted to break the silence, wanted to speak. But it was so fucking hard.
"What do you want, more than anything?"
Part of her wants to thank Cora for breaking the silence, and another part of her wants to strangle her for it.
"I want my son."
Just like she knew it would, her voice becomes a choked squeak at the word my. Because she should know better by now than to call him that.
"What a coincidence...I want my daughter back."
The words hit her like a hurricane, and biting her lip, she pulled the car (carriage!) over. Everything inside her was screaming; don't give in, don't give in, don't give in...
But Cora leans in, need seeping from her every pore.
"Please," a hand found its way to Regina's thigh, "let me back in. Back into your heart. I can be so much better..."
The insinuations that Regina didn't want to hear dripped from Cora's words, and she began to ache. Her teeth dug into her lip even harder—threatening to break skin and her eyes locked with Cora's and the hand on her thigh moved to her face—fingers found her lips, a thumb ran across her stinging bottom lip and the car feels too hot. Because when Cora's eyes are on her, all she can see in them is love. It warms her, revives her...she wants all of it inside her and her breathing is just short puffs of I hate myself for missing you.
Before Regina can stop herself, her head is on Cora's shoulder, the body she used to curl up with every night for so many years is against her again—soft, warm. Arms wrap around her, comforting, tender, home.
"Mother..." it was all she could say, all her feeble voice could muster. She feels like a teenager again, a child caught up in mother's embrace, and her nose brushed against Cora's neck...her eyes flutter shut, and Cora eases her head up, gently, gently, gently, and with a smile that should have made her run, run away...
Lips found hers, soft, forbidden, tantalizingly sinful and Regina's eyes widen. There's so much passion, and Regina moans, and Cora swallows with all the eagerness of an alcoholic losing themselves in booze. Cora's hands are everywhere, running through her hair, running down her back, down her front...
"Don't push me away again, Regina..."
The words hit her neck as lips descend upon it, hungry and possessive, and in that moment she loses the strength to fight. How long had she fought? How many battles had she lost? The will to push away, to jump out of her car and never look back—was gone. In the wake of sharp bites and choked groans and a need so strong she felt it between her legs-