A/N: Piece from a while back that I finally finished. Beta'd by the effervescent GreyElla. Check out her stuff, she's an effing baller.
Disclaimer: Set after S2E16 - The Miller's Daughter. I do not own these characters. I do not own the settings.
Regina stands staring at her fractured reflection. She wonders, not for the first time, exactly what causes the destruction of the things she loves. Her favorite mirror. Her favorite vintage cider, of which she'd only had three bottles, now two. Her relationship with Henry and now... her mother. Just those few brief, shining moments of her mother's radiant smile and then...
She eyes the amber rivulets running down an otherwise pristine wall (if one didn't count the maimed mirror, and Regina didn't). She follows them down to the floor. Shattered remnants of clear glass mingle with reflective pieces of mirror. As if she's looking back up at herself, just another face, mocking. Look at what you've done now.
All of it was the damn blonde woman's fault. Thinking to blame herself for the destruction and consequent mess was simply out of the question. For the former mayor it may as well have been Emma who'd violently thrown the cider decanter at reflective glass. Emma fucking Swan.
The grating noise of vibrating cell phone against wooden floor derails that lonely train of thought. With a few uneven stiletto heel clicks she stands over the offending device. She already knows who it is. The Savior. The thought sits uncomfortably in her psyche. It would be one thing if she could spit at the title, but even Regina has been touched by the savior. Her son would be dead if not for the pure love transferred to Henry from those thin, pink lips. She would be dead if not for her constant interfering nature. The thought makes her even angrier. Had the fucking woman just eaten the damn turnover herself... or left town in the first place, her son would have required no saving. Her curse would have been intact. She would still be mayor...
She bends at the knee. Her movements slow, overly measured. The movements of someone just drunk enough to have incomplete control of her faculties. But not drunk enough to throw caution for well being to the wind. She gingerly reaches for her phone, quite pleased at being able to maintain her balance. It's on the standing-back-up maneuver that her stiletto'd right ankle gives a sharp turn and she lands unceremoniously on her posterior.
Pain shoots through her left hand, small shards of glass embedding themselves into her palm. She feels a dampness seeping into the seat of her pencil skirt. Clearly she'd underestimated the trajectory of the broken decanter. The phone gives another insistent vibration in her right hand and she barely represses the frustrated scream rising in her throat. Irritated, she looks at the messages.
"I need you to know that... Snow might be my mother, but what she did today, I don't stand by it." Regina scoffs. Surely the woman doesn't think she gets points for not condoning murder? Her eyes rest on the second message.
"Are you okay? Henry is worried." Of course, always Henry. No one else worries about her and Henry... he doesn't love her the way he loves the blonde. Not the way he loves a woman who gave him up and didn't raise him. All the years of devotion to his happiness... for this bitch to come and have him look up at her the way he should look at her...
"Fuck you." Is the only response she deems fit for the occasion. She laughs, imagining the surprised look garnered by the two words. After a few moments she feels the phone vibrate again.
"Fair enough." Her round eyes roll at the diplomatic response. Then the phone goes off again. "Just so you know, I'm outside." Her drunken haze doesn't allow her to comprehend the meaning of that statement.
"Am I supposed to care that you've gone out for a stroll on the night your mother arranged for me to kill mine? Should I ask if you've worn a jacket? What the fuck is your point?" She types angrily, satisfied for once with the job autocorrect has done of deciphering her drunken typing.
"Actually I am wearing a jacket, thanks. But I mean I'm outside your property line. Can I come in?" What?! Why is she here? Regina takes a look at herself. Cider-dampened and rumpled skirt, creased blouse... she distinctly recalls seeing mussed make up and hair in her broken mirror. Absolutely not.
"No. Go away." She types back and runs her fingers through tousled locks.
"Regina, please. I'm worried about you. You... shouldn't be alone right now." This gives Regina pause. It almost sounds as if the woman gives a damn. Collecting her strength, she pushes herself back up to her feet and over to the window next to her front door. Pulling the curtain aside, she peers out at the sheriff of a town that was once hers. She gives the younger woman credit for staying just past the fence. If she had come closer without permission there would be reason to face off.
Suddenly everything is funny. She lifts her phone and dials the other woman. She watches Emma look confusedly at her phone. "Hello?" Regina cannot stifle a giggle. She takes a moment and composes herself, putting on her best fuck-you-I'm-the-mayor voice.
"Sheriff Swan, there is a prowler lurking at my property line under the guise of giving a shit about my well being. Please remove the insipid woman." She gives a satisfied smirk at the silence.
"Regina... you really don't have to go through this on your own." The corner of her lip sinks.
"Just leave!" Regina yells, slamming her hand against the glass in front of her, forgetting about the shards she leaned on earlier. She cries out and Emma can just make out blood smearing across the window.
"You're bleeding. Discussion over." She says in that infuriating, savior-y way she has and the call clicks to an abrupt end. Before Regina can react Emma is barging up her walkway, jaw set in determination. She takes the four stairs at twos, much like Henry does and Regina almost smiles. But then the blonde is standing opposite her, blood smeared glass the only thing separating them.
"Let me in." Breath fogs up the glass momentarily, then clears. And those green eyes hold all the sincerity in the world. If only Regina could believe that it isn't some rouse. Some play for power. A way to convince her not to exact vengeance.
"Leave. Me. Alone." Emma takes a small step back at the biting tone, but doesn't leave. The women stare at one another, neither backing down. A bead of blood splashes on an expensively shoed toe. Regina's stare is broken as she looks down at her hand in alarm. Blood pools in her palm and cascades down her fingers. Shit.
"Just let me in. I'll help clean you up." Emma implores. Too shocked by the sight of her own blood Regina quits her previous arguments and opens the door. The sheriff takes a look at the state of the foyer and, wisely, chooses not to comment. Instead, she takes Regina by the wrist gently.
Perhaps it's the woozy feeling caused by the sight of her mangled palm or the alcohol that allows the blonde to do so. Regina finds she doesn't have the will to fight the comfort of someone caring for her. Even if it were the last person she would ever choose.
"You've got a few shards of glass in your hand." Emma states.
"Oh, you possess brilliant deductive skills sheriff! It's a wonder you weren't in law enforcement before! Oh wait... prior imprisonment will prevent one from such a position elsewhere, wouldn't it? Good thing you found this town full of people who think the sun shines out of your rather nice ass!" The tirade is punctuated with a huff.
"I don't know why you're so angry with me. I'm trying to help here. I didn't suggest you get inebriated and fall onto some glass." Emma grits through her teeth. "And thanks." She adds.
"For what?" The brunette asks incredulously. Emma smirks at her.
"You complimented my ass." Round eyes regard Emma. Much the same way her own had regarded Henry when he disclosed her roommate was not only Snow White, but also her mom.
"You're delusional. I don't know why I'm allowing you to play doctor to my hand when you so clearly need one for your head." Emma laughs.
"Whatever you say. We should get you to the bathroom. Come on." She cups her hands below the bleeding appendage and allows Regina to guide her to the bathroom. The brunette appreciates the gesture, but frowns.
"You should be wearing gloves. Don't you know the risks of bloodborne pathogens Miss Swan?" Emma's eyes widen briefly.
"So... um... are you trying to tell me something right now? Cause before I had your blood on my hands would have been ideal..." Regina shakes her head.
"I'm not positive for any diseases of the blood, no. Still you should be more cautious." She notes the relieved breath the younger woman releases. They reach the bathroom and Emma lets Regina's hand hover over the sink as she adjusts the water to a pleasantly warm temperature.
"First aid kit?" She asks, knowing that Regina must have one, in case Henry was ever hurt.
"Under the sink." Emma moves the injured hand beneath the water to soften the skin and finds the first aid kit. She grabs gauze, disinfectant, a long bandage and the set of medical tweezers.
"I could just magic the glass out." Regina interjects. Emma raises an eyebrow.
"You said yourself magic is unpredictable in Storybrooke. On top of that you're drunk and clearly don't react to the sight of blood well, you're pale as all hell. Do you really want to risk your hand?" She can practically hear the wheels turning in the other woman's mind. Before long the brunette merely shakes her head.
Emma takes a look at the task ahead. Four pieces of glass, none too deep. She can handle this. She grabs a piece of the gauze and holds it up to Regina's face.
"Say 'ah.'" One perfectly arched eyebrow rises. "You're gonna thank me later. Not like this is gonna tickle..." The older woman relents and parts her lips, grabbing the gauze with her teeth.
Emma realizes she's been staring at those full lips for too long when Regina grunts at her. She shakes her head and begins removing the glass. The former mayor sits eerily still, stoic expression only faltering once or twice in conjecture to quiet moans of pain. Finally all of the shards are out. Emma rinses the hand once more before giving Regina a pitying look and pouring the disinfectant over the hand. She can hear teeth grinding. After patting the hand dry, she places the remaining gauze across the delicate palm and bandages it.
"I think that ought to do it." Emma says, admiring her work. When Regina doesn't respond with a catty remark Emma looks up. The older woman is staring at her, gauze freshly removed by her free hand.
"Thank you." The words sound as though there are more shards of glass in her gums too. "I need some water, my mouth is painfully dry." Emma nods and stands. Suddenly a hand is held out before Regina. She doesn't know why, but she places her well-manicured right hand into the proffered one. The sheriff pulls her to her feet with an easy strength.
They take a few steps before Regina stops. She steps out of her heels. The difference is hard to place. It's a simple thing, removing one's shoes, but for Regina it looks much more like removing part of her armor.
Emma fetches two glasses and pours from one of those water-purifying pitchers in the refrigerator. "I hope it's okay... I am rather thirsty myself." Regina shrugs.
"Why not? You've helped yourself to everything else in my life." She drinks heavily from the glass. She thinks she hears Emma mumble something. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that dear." Emma smiles, noting the minor slur in the normally put-together woman's voice.
"It wasn't important. So... I know I'm not your first choice, but what you went through today... was fucked up. More fucked up than anyone deserves. So, I guess for once, I want you to know that you aren't the only one who sees that." She watches brown eyes narrow at her.
"My first choice for what? You have this irritating habit of beginning one thought, abandoning it, and beginning another. And apparently mumbling things." Emma gapes at her son's adoptive mother.
"Your first choice of... company? I don't know Regina! I just know that you shouldn't be left alone as if it wasn't your mother who..."
"Died, Miss Swan. She died. And no, you are most certainly not my first choice for company, but I don't exactly have a line breaking down the door, do I?" A sardonic smile spreads across full lips. Emma returns it with a genuine one.
"Is that your way of saying that I'll do?" Regina doesn't hear any sarcasm in the question and that surprises her.
"I won't lie and say that company is unwelcome. Today is unbearable. My only question is why you're here instead of with your mother? Surely your energies are better spent on your family?" The honesty was refreshing, easier than lying. She was far too tired for lying.
"She has David. She has this whole crazy town. I prefer to invest my energies where they're needed. I spoke to her. I doubt it was much of a comfort to her. I think she was wrong. I'm not the one who can offer her what she needs. And frankly I'm kind of tired of being the product of true love. It was simpler being the fucked up product of the foster care system." She was avoiding the brunette's eye. Regina doubted that the sheriff had expressed these feelings to anyone else.
"It seems we have more in common than just Henry." Regina commented and tilted her glass toward the blonde. Emma regarded her raised glass and clinked it lightly. They drank in silence for a while. "My mother tried to push me into a ready-made family. I was the queen, I am technically your step-grandmother." She laughed as Emma's nose crinkled in distaste of the thought.
"Um... No. Secondly; I always imagined that my grandmother would be a kindly old lady-"
"I'm not kind-"
"Yes you are. I see you with Henry... and who else has given you the chance? What I meant is that I never envisioned the evil queen as... well, a hot woman." Regina inhaled sharply. Emma averted her eyes again, taking a sudden interest in the top of the island.
"Well I never guessed that my annoying step daughter's child would have such a nice ass..." Lips smirk again. "Life is full of surprises."
"It's from David, have you seen the bubble butt on that man? I should have known I was related to him!" Emma didn't think she'd ever seen the other woman snort, but found she wanted to elicit it again.
"If life had been different maybe we could have been friends..." Regina lets the idea trail off.
"Who says we can't be now? We both lead these fucked up lives and we share one common good thing. Why not two? Why can't we? That night... when I drove Henry home, I'd hoped things could have been that way." Sad brown eyes regard her.
"I could have reacted better. But he is my son and... well now I've gone and lost him anyway. I should have known that the most effective way to neutralize an enemy is to make them a friend. I see that now. But we can't change the past." Emma allows her hand to rest on top of Regina's.
"Why not? I know you were trying to start over. Why-"
"Because tonight, I am drunk and vulnerable and reeling from loss and I need... someone. So badly, that I will allow that someone to be you. But tomorrow... tomorrow the world will look the same as it always has and I will have to avenge my mother. Kill your mother. You and I cannot stand on the same side of this line. You have to choose her. We both know that." The intensity with which the blonde is staring becomes uncomfortable.
"That's a fools errand. You know I can't let her die. You know I can't let you succeed and if by some horrible twist of fate, you do, you'll never get to be happy. You have a chance here. Your choices from here shape your life." Regina is nodding.
"Let's leave this subject for a more pleasant one. Had I been kind and welcoming the night we met how would that have gone?" She smiles and Emma finds it hard to believe this is the same woman who moments prior had causally mentioned that she was going to murder her mother. A small hand grasps her own. "Just go with it. We don't have to be enemies tonight." Emma feels her throat work, swallowing hard against the noise in her lungs.
"I wish you'd reconsider. All you'll do is prove to Henry that you are everything the skewed vision in his book paints you as." Emma implores. She can't read the expression on Regina's face.
"If it were you? If I'd just fooled you into killing Snow. How would you handle it?" She finally asks. Emma has no answer. "This topic isn't helping anything. Answer my original question instead." The blonde nods, keeping her eyes locked on brown.
"Um... I only know how I'd hope it would go. Regina, why did you break the mirror?" She knows this is dangerous territory.
"No segue to speak of. Your conversation skills are sorely lacking." Emma isn't stupid. She can see that the woman needs to talk. She can see that needing someone is incorrectly perceived as weakness.
"Okay, we don't have to talk about that... if you'd been welcoming? I had some grandiose ideas of being able to share Henry's love. Being able to share in the responsibility of raising a young boy. That we could have worked together to do what is best for him." Emma explains, running her thumb around the edge of her glass.
"You know, that sounds so much more appealing than what has actually come to pass. But it's not at all what I'm referring to." Green eyes snap up at the hint of arousal in the last statement.
"What are you referring to?" Emma asks cautiously. If she is reading the mayor's expression incorrectly... it could be very embarrassing and it would also mean revealing her own attraction to the woman across from her. She could easily be giving the upper hand to Regina. The brunette leans forward, blouse hanging off of her frame dangerously.
"I'm talking about the blush across your face when I lean over and you can see down my blouse. I'm talking about the lingering gazes that you think I don't notice. I'm talking about how your skintight jeans would only look better if they were on my bedroom floor. I'm talking about how it might have been if I'd just taken you to my bed the night we met like we both wanted." Emma notes that Regina's eyes darken as she speaks. She swallows just to have something to do.
"I... didn't realize that you felt that way." Still playing it cool. Still expecting that this was all some kind of trick to make her feel stupid for imagining a woman like Regina Mills would want her. She watches the brunette stand straight and walk around the island. It was certainly not the first time Emma had been this close to her and yet it felt like it.
"Miss Swan, your mistake was thinking I was not letting you in to protect my own feelings." Regina's arms surround Emma on either side, her hands on the island behind the blonde. Caged. Standing on her bare toes, her mouth comes dangerously close to Emma's ear. "Whatever good there is left in me was trying to keep you from the trap." Teeth nip at an earlobe, beginning a path down her jaw. "Everything I care for dies."
Regina stops just short of the sheriff's lips. "We can't Regina-" The woman in question presses her pillow soft lips against Emma's, cutting off the flow of speech. Caged again. Lips part and the women finally get a taste of what they'd both wanted from the start.
Emma couldn't stop now, even if she wanted to. All semblance of will fleeing, as she feels a hand sliding up her thigh. Regina's injured hand moves to gently unzip Emma's jacket, takes in the sheriff's braless state, smirking. "You say we can't, but you're making it so very easy, dear." Emma groans as full lips attach to her left nipple through her white cotton tank. Emma's shoulders roll, without her explicit permission, depositing leather on the chair behind her.
Regina smirks at the sheriff's low moan. She has her now. She is excellent at recognizing the moment when reluctance turns to acceptance. Her fingers deftly worked the button fly of dark jeans she's wanted to peel off of the blonde for as long as she's known her. The hiss of approval spurs her on, inching the denim down inch by impossibly tight inch. She releases the nipple and falls to her knees, undoing and removing leather boots.
Finally, after what seems a ridiculous effort, Emma stands before her, boy shorts and tank the only clothing between Regina and her prize. She isn't surprised at the red, boy style underwear; they suit her son's mother. "How do you get those jeans over these?" She asks.
"A lot of wiggling." Emma replies, chuckling. One perfect eyebrow rises at this admission. The blonde shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny of brown eyes. She takes Regina's hand and pulls the woman up to her feet.
Unpainted lips crash once more into smeared red. Emma never claimed to be graceful, laughing it off as part of her charm. Regina would never admit it, but it is one of the things she finds endearing about her. As lips part, Regina takes control of the pace, slowly trailing her tongue across Emma's lower lip. The former sighs at the contact. Their tongues entwine in an exploring dance, before finally breaking apart.
"Slow and steady, Miss Swan. We are not teenagers in the back of your ratty car. There is no rush." Emma blushes.
"I've never done this slowly." She is embarrassed at this fact. Thinking back on her trysts, all were rushed encounters. Even with Neal, she always felt like she was running. From what, she didn't know.
Her reverie is interrupted by the feeling of fingers sliding down her waist, tracing intricate and nonsensical patterns across her skin. Two thumbs hook into the red cotton waistband, pulling gently.
Emma watches Regina as the woman takes her in. Her breath has shortened, breasts rising and falling with each shallow intake. Cotton pools around her bare feet and she steps out of her shorts, kicking them mindlessly in whatever direction, not caring that she'll struggle to locate them later.
Regina notes the telltale mark of an aroused woman on the discarded garment. She chooses not to comment on it. Instead she focuses on the expanse of skin before her. She is momentarily surprised at the neat grooming before her; surprise quickly turns to a groan. The scent of Emma threatens to rob her of all self-control; the neat strip of hair above her slit does unspeakable things to the brunette's desire.
Regina can feel Emma's eyes trained on her. For the blonde it feels like an eternity before those round eyes turn up and meet hers. Regina rises, grabbing the hem of Emma's tank top and pulling it up, slowly. She relishes each new inch of pale skin as its exposed to her. Emma raises her arms and allows her final piece of clothing to be taken from her. It lands in nearly the opposite direction of the rest of her outfit.
The urge to fidget is nearly too great to ignore, but the savior manages to stand as proudly as possible whilst being the only nude person in the room. Darkened eyes take in every line and scar, every mark earned from a life of hardship. Slowly her hand extends, leaving enough time for the blonde to stop her, to end this before it begins.
She wants the woman, but she won't take her choice away.
Emma recognizes the gesture and steps forward, pressing herself against seeking hand. Acquiescence established, Regina's hand slides upward to tangle into curls and pull the blonde into another kiss. This one slower than the first, scorching in its intensity.
She takes note of the hands that have come to rest on her hips, pulling her body flush against the form before her. She finds that it isn't enough. Her own clothing stifling the heat that she suddenly craves. Emma is taken aback as the mouth connected to hers becomes assertive, controlling.
"More." Regina breathes after pulling back. She roughly untucks her silk blouse from high-waisted skirt, sliding Emma's hands up and over her bare skin. The sigh tastes like relief. Emma takes the hint and begins unbuttoning the blouse, exposing olive skin and trying to memorize the way the brunette's accelerated breathing sounds. The silk falls to the floor silently.
She doesn't think she's ever had sensory overload quite like this before. Like watching ballet while listening to a concerto and eating the most decadent chocolate cake. Everything about this experience pleasurable.
Emma reaches for the zip of Regina's skirt, and fails as the brunette once again falls to her knees. The sight of such a powerful woman before her that way is enough to elicit a moan. Full lips smirk in response. Even in this docile position she holds the upper hand. She runs her fingers across the soft flesh of Emma's thighs, sliding around to cup her ass and pull her forward. Emma groans, bracing herself with her hands on the kitchen island behind her. "Regina..." she whispers. She is lost in the moment, needing to feel everything the brunette's proximity to her sex promises.
"You'll need to ask nicely Miss Swan." Regina lets her breath tickle the wet folds before her. The muscles in her hands tighten.
"Regina-" she falters, hating to ask, but needing the reward. "Please." Her hips surge forward when full lips press against her mons. She groans when they are taken from her.
"I can't know what you want unless you tell me dear..." The amusement behind her words leaves no pretense of innocent ignorance. Emma grits her teeth.
"You know damn well what I want." She argues. She looks down, green meeting brown. Regina smirks, shaking her head.
"I'm afraid I don't." She relishes the frustrated whimper. She enjoys watching capitulation take place.
"Taste me." Emma finally whispers. "Please!" She adds as an afterthought when her request isn't fulfilled right away.
"Was that so difficult?" Regina teases. Emma is about to explain just how difficult it truly was, but all speech dies on her lips, resurrected as a deep moan when Regina's tongue delves between her folds.
"Oh gods..." Emma sighs and Regina is inclined to agree. It's been ages since she made love to a woman; she'd nearly forgotten how much she enjoyed this. Her tongue dipped into Emma's entrance, gathering her arousal and spreading it across her clit.
Emma white-knuckles the counter at the first feeling of Regina's tongue on her clit. Already her hips are rolling in a steady rhythm against the other woman's mouth. She ventures a look down at the face between her thighs and nearly comes undone, one hand releasing the lip of the island to tangle in short brown locks.
Regina moans as Emma's hand pulls her closer, the vibration making the blonde respond in kind. She hums again and slides her injured hand upward to tease the erect nipples above her. Her nails dig into the soft flesh of Emma's ass, pulling her sex against questing tongue even harder.
Emma's hard gasp is all the answer Regina requires; the blonde enjoys pain. How delightful. Those same nails drag downward and around a thigh, pulling one leg up onto a shoulder. Regina's tongue works tight circles around Emma's clit and just when the blonde believes she can't possibly take any more of this perfect torture, two fingers slip into her, in time with the tongue already working her.
She falls apart, head thrown back, spine arched. Colors burst behind her eyelids as her walls press in around Regina again and again. The brunette marvels at the sensation, her fingers in a vice, pulled in deeper by each wave of the blonde's orgasm. The sounds are the most beautiful she thinks she has ever heard and she longs for it to continue even as the hand in her hair pulls her away.
Emma falls to her knees beside Regina and kisses her, hard. Regina moans into her mouth, her own need built up to frenzy. She reaches for the zipper of her skirt, only to be stopped. She breaks the kiss, questioning with her eyes.
"Bed. I want to take you to bed." Emma says between breaths. Regina is shocked by the request.
"Why?" She demands.
"I've been thinking of ways I'd like to fuck you for over a year. Bent over your desk, or mine, up against a wall. And now I find, when I have the chance, I want nothing more than to see you amidst your own fine sheets and pillows, moaning for me. Bed." Emma demands. Regina isn't sure why the lump forms in her throat, but she swallows against it, hard. She will not allow this woman to weaken her resolve.
"Fine." She answers flippantly, standing and making her way to the stairs without waiting for Emma. She wipes the emotion from her eyes, masking it with arrogance and a little extra sway in her step as she ascends.
Emma smirks at the former mayor's backside, quite enjoying the view. At the top of the stair, she takes Regina's shoulder in her hand, turning the shorter woman to face her. Her hands travel down to bunch the pencil skirt around Regina's waist. The brunette groans as her lace panties are exposed for the first time. Emma easily lifts her, wrapping toned legs around her hips and making her way to the only door that stands ajar.
She deposits Regina softly on the edge of the bed, climbing onto her lap in straddle and kisses her neck. "This room smells of you. Of apples and cinnamon. I love cinnamon." Regina moans as lips find her ear and teeth follow.
"You reek of self-appointed authority." Regina baits. Emma laughs outright, rising to her knees and motioning for Regina to move further onto the bed.
"Well then, I'll have to find a way to earn it for once, won't I?" Regina snorts.
"Miss Swan, you wouldn't even know where to begin looking for it." Green eyes flash at the challenge. Hands grasp tanned wrists, pulling them together in one hand and holding them high above the brunette. Regina moans. This, this is what she needs, what she has never had. A loss of control.
"I think we both know that isn't true." Emma drawls. Her free hand ventures down Regina's side, moving to the apex between strong thighs. Her hand parts toned thighs roughly. She notes the hitch in Regina's breath. Smirking, she grasps lace and pulls it downward, stopping at Regina's knees. The brunette gasps as cool air caresses her most sensitive place.
"Leave your hands there." Emma demands. She waits for Regina to nod before releasing her wrists. Regina takes the cue when Emma slides a hand under her lower back, rising to allow the blonde access to her bra clasp. With ease the eyehooks come undone and Emma pulls the material up Regina's arms and over her hands.
She takes a moment to admire the round breasts before her. Gives Regina a moment before she undoes the zip at the side of her skirt. Watches her face as she pulls the skirt down over her hips and pauses at her knees, hooking the lace panties with her thumbs and removing both articles of clothing.
For a moment they regard one another. "You are... beautiful." Emma whispers. Regina inhales sharply. Emma utters the words as a statement of fact, not an ounce of flattery drips from pink lips. There is no arguing it. The savior believes the evil queen to be beautiful.
"Emma..." Regina pauses, deciding whether or not she is fond of how the name tastes. She doesn't register the darkening of green eyes until they are level with hers. The desire written there is palpable. So taken is she with the sound of her name on Regina's lips, that she doesn't register her demand being disobeyed.
Regina lowers her hands, one grasping Emma's shoulder, lips seeking out lips. The other travels down the blonde's arm, taking her hand and bringing it back between her thighs. Their mouths ghost over one another. "Take me... Emma."
The blonde hisses, closing her eyes tight. Two fingers slip into slick heat. "Fuck, Regina!" Emma exclaims, feeling for the first time how wet the other woman truly is. Regina digs her nails into Emma's shoulders as the blonde teases her folds, willing her for more.
Emma smirks, clearly not forgetting being forced to articulate her desires earlier. Regina's hips buck, searching for more fulfilling contact. Emma moves with her, denying the much needed friction.
"Damn you!" She growls. Emma chuckles and slides her thumb across Regina's clit, and moves away too quickly. "You're a bitch." Regina deadpans.
"I know." Emma replies, circling Regina's entrance with two fingers. "All you need to do is ask. Turn about being fair play and all." Emma lowers her mouth to take one perfect nipple between her lips. The resulting moan is laced with desperation.
"Emma!" The blonde refuses to relent. Regina twists her fingers into golden curls, jerking Emma's head back. Green eyes stare defiantly back at brown orbs. "Goddamn you. Fill me, make me whole."
The smirk hasn't even finished painting itself across Emma's mouth before two fingers slip into Regina. Full lips part, releasing a long, low moan. "More." Regina whimpers. Emma feels her own sex clench as she curls a third finger into Regina. "Fuck... yes..."
If asked, Emma would never have guessed that uptight Regina fuck-you-very-much Mills would be nearly as vocal as she was discovering her to be. Her hips rose to meet each thrust. She was incredibly beautiful in pleasure. Emma rose to her knees, hovering over Regina's thigh. The leverage allowed her to thrust deeper, harder. The angle allowed the heel of her palm to grind into Regina's clit.
Regina was getting close. And Emma's heavy breathing wasn't lost on her; she knew the blonde wouldn't need much to reach a second climax. She slipped a hand downward and found Emma's clit, matching her pace, reveling in their mingled moans.
Their eyes met once again, their bodies rocking in time with one another, lost in the rhythm they'd created together. Regina slipped over the edge, breaking eye contact, tossing her head to the side and closing her eyes. Emma followed soon after, her spine arched, hand furiously working as silken walls gripped her fingers.
Finally, Emma collapsed atop Regina. A tangle of limbs and erratic breathing where two separate women were once discernable. Emma held onto her son's other mother. And the woman allowed herself to be held. And for a time, the savior and the evil queen put those titles aside. For a time they were only Emma and Regina. Two broken souls, finding comfort in one another.
For a time, the coming of tomorrow and all the things tomorrow would hold just didn't matter...
Hit that button. Tell me how you love it!