A/N: Written for the Tumblr prompt: Regina's sex dungeon.
Emma opened her eyes groggily, forehead wrinkling and eyes narrowing as a harsh beam of sunlight flickered across her face. She stretched, letting out a contented moan before turning toward the bedmate to her left. A little smile tugged at her lips as she caught sight of Regina's sleep mussed hair and a little dribble of saliva trickling at the corner of her mouth. Emma let out an amused snort. She made a mental note to tease the brunette for her nightly drooling habit before rolling over to the right to carefully tiptoe out of the bed. The mattress made a soft creaking noise when the blonde's body left it and she held her breath, praying to a higher power that she hadn't woken Regina up.
After confirming that the brunette was indeed asleep, she crept out of the room and down the stairs. As she made her way into the kitchen, she flicked the light switch on and shuffled toward the island. Rubbing her left eye with her fist sleepily, she grabbed the Starbucks bag from the corner of the counter and dumped a few spoonfuls of its contents into the machine. She closed her eyes and yawned.
The familiar fragrance of coffee filled her nostrils a few moments later and she smiled. Switching the appliance to the 'off' position, Emma grabbed her mug from the dish rack and poured herself a cup of the freshly brewed drink. She sipped it slowly, leaning back against the counter and reveling in the warmth that radiated through the ceramic in her hands.
She allowed herself to daydream, a goofy grin spread across her face as thoughts of her sleeping girlfriend swirled around in her head. Things certainly weren't perfect – Regina was moody and often withdrawn – but for the first time in Emma's life, she felt content, like she was where she was meant to be.
Bringing the cup to her lips one last time, Emma gulped down the remaining drops before placing her mug into the dirty dish side of the sink. She moved back to the coffee machine and opened the top compartment to grab the filter full of grounds, then turned on her heels toward the garbage can to throw them away.
It was like the world was moving in slow motion as Emma felt the flimsy material of the liner tear in her hand. The grounds sifted through the newly formed hole in the filter, quickly painting Regina's clean wooden floor a wet, sticky brown. "Awwww fuck," Emma groaned.
Regina was going to kill her.
After discarding what remained of the liner into the nearby garbage can, the blonde ran from cabinet to cabinet in the kitchen, trying to find a dust pan and broom or a vacuum. She gnawed at her lower lip as each cupboard revealed more neatly aligned and labeled containers, cookware, and supplies – but no broom. A low grunt crept up Emma's throat and she sighed, flustered, before making her way out of the kitchen to check the rest of the house for the broom closet.
It wasn't like Emma had the damned place memorized. Regina's mansion was so intricate and extravagant that she was pretty sure there were rooms Henry didn't even know existed, even after having lived 10 years of his life there. Emma had only moved in two weeks ago, and surprise, surprise, Regina had opted out of giving her the grand tour.
So, Emma ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, feet dusted in wet coffee grounds, searching for something, anything to clean up the mess before Regina woke up.
The blonde shuffled down the hall toward the back of the house. She knew the first door on the right was Regina's office. The other rooms, however, were complete mysteries.
She opened each door and peeked her head inside, quickly becoming acquainted with the rest of the home. Emma came across a half bath, a towel closet, a third guest room – she'd never even seen Regina have a guest over, let alone three of them - and a storage room filled with dozens of boxes, each labeled with their particular contents: "Henry's baby clothes", "Henry's artwork 2008-2010", and so on.
Running her fingers through sleep mussed, knotted blonde curls, Emma approached the last room tucked in the far left corner of the hall. She inhaled slowly through her nose, then puffed out her cheeks as she turned the knob a little to the right. She frowned when she felt hesitation; it was locked.
Emma raised an eyebrow questioningly before trying the handle again, as if by some grace of god jiggling the damned thing a bunch of times would make it magically open. Unsurprisingly, it didn't budge.
What exactly was behind that door that Regina felt the need to keep it locked?
"Ahem."
The clearing of a throat startled Emma out of her concentration on the door and she jumped, bringing her hand to her chest as her heart pounded thunderously inside her breastbone. "Fuck, Regina, you scared me."
The brunette rested a hip against a nearby wall and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, well, pardon me for creeping up on you as you poked your nose around my home," Regina teased, pursing her lips.
Emma shrugged her shoulders before turning her gaze back toward the door. "This door's locked," she informed, turning the handle violently back and forth to emphasize her point.
Regina merely let out a breathy laugh. "So it is. How observant of you."
"Why's it locked?"
A beat of silence. "What on Earth were you snooping around for anyway?" the brunette asked, tilting her head to the side as she waited for Emma's excuse.
"I was looking for a broom."
Regina raised an eyebrow. "A broom? Didn't see you as the domestic type, Ms. Swan."
Emma rolled her eyes. "I was brought up in the foster system, not a barn. I know how to clean up after I've made a mess."
Regina's eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. "A mess? What mess?"
The blonde flashed her counterpart a weak smile.
Clenching her jaw, Regina turned on her heels and stomped toward the kitchen.
Emma flinched in anticipation, fully aware of the verbal beating she was about to endure. She turned back to the door for a moment, curiosity overwhelming her as to what exactly Regina had to hide. As the blonde reached for the knob one last time, a shout echoed through the living room and bounced down the hallway.
"Ms. Swan!"
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It was eating Emma alive. She had to know what was in that room.
She bit her bottom lip and tried to focus on the paperwork in front of her, squinting then widening her eyes repeatedly as though her sight were the culprit of her lack of concentration. She'd read the damned thing three times through, but hadn't been able to absorb any of it. Her mind was elsewhere, , fantasizing and dreading all at once as to what the mysterious contents of 'the door at the end of the hallway' were.
It sounded like some B-horror movie.
Emma drummed her fingernails against her desk. She could be a mature adult and merely confront Regina about it. After all, she had her superpower of being able to detect a lie. If Regina didn't tell the truth, she could just revert to Plan B: sneaking around and finding out the answer herself.
Plan B seemed so much more fun, though. After all, she was the Sheriff of this town, and if Regina was hiding something that could potentially hurt them – well, then, it was her duty to get to the bottom of it.
Emma closed the manila envelope full of papers and threw it haphazardly across her desk before wheeling her chair away to allow her to stand. She grabbed her coat from around the back of her chair and pulled it over her arms and body in one swift motion. Tugging her phone from the pocket of her jeans, Emma checked the time. 3:30pm. Regina wouldn't be home for another hour and a half – plenty of time to do some…investigating.
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Emma arrived home approximately 20 minutes later. After throwing her coat and boots on the floor – which would assuredly piss Regina off later – she bounded through the house and down the hallway, stopping short in front of the dark brown door. Squatting down so she was eye level with the golden knob, Emma analyzed the lock. It didn't seem particularly fancy or complicated; she'd done a fair share of lock picking in her time and the one in front of her didn't seem any different than what she had hacked before.
Digging her right hand in the tight pocket of her jeans, Emma procured a bobby pin and grinned. It was amazing what the little things could accomplish. She bent the top folded over piece back and smoothed it, resulting in one long piece of jagged metal. Holding her breath, Emma jiggled the pin inside the lock and waited to hear the familiar "click" noise of a door unlocking. She twisted and turned her makeshift key, grumbling to herself when the door remained firmly shut. "Well, fuck," Emma grumbled to herself, running her free hand through her hair. Defeated, she stood and crossed her arms over her chest, all the while giving the door her best death glare, as though by magic it would swing open under her gaze.
And it did.
Emma blinked rapidly at the sight before her. The door had opened on its own; just a hair, but still, it had opened. 'Definitely B-horror movie material,' Emma thought to herself as she eyed the door wearily. She stepped forward, hovering a slightly trembling hand over the door.
She had every right to be nervous. Regina had kept a vault of hearts, for Christ's sake…
As the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat – and Emma knew that Regina Mills and whatever was through that door might very well be the death of her.
She took a deep breath and, while she still had the confidence, swung open the door and jumped back, fully anticipating an attack. When she remained unharmed a few seconds later, Emma hesitantly stepped forward and peeked inside. Behind the door was…a staircase. "What the hell…" she whispered, running her hand up and down each side of the wall to find a light switch. When she didn't find one, she pulled her phone from her pocket and used it as a makeshift torch to lead her into the darkness. The blonde tiptoed slowly and carefully down the steps.
After descending the last step, Emma came face to face with an archway. She stepped through it and was greeted with yet another void of darkness. Reaching around aimlessly, Emma's hand brushed against cool wood, then a little protrusion in the wall – a lightswitch. She chewed her bottom lip and counted to three - the blonde wasn't necessarily sure she wanted to know what her surroundings were – before flicking it on. All at once, a wave of fluorescent light washed over her and she squinted, her eyes still dilated from the dark.
The room's interior was dark but surprisingly comfortable. Deep brown wood panels were aligned perfectly against the walls and around a single window at the top of the right wall. The window was covered with a deep red curtain, shielding all possible light from above. Long, fluorescent bulbs were installed running opposite of the panels on the top wall; they flickered dramatically and cast long shadows over the furniture strewn throughout.
Emma turned on her heels to access what was behind her. A large bed sat in the right corner of the room and she raised an eyebrow questioningly. A bed? Who would ever want to sleep down here? Emma walked toward the bed and stopped at the edge, running her fingertips over the black satin sheets that adorned it. They were perfectly ironed, not a single wrinkle to be found.
She danced her fingertips up the long railings of the bed. They extended from the head and foot up toward the ceiling, bolted in at the top. A flicker of metal glistened in the corner of the blonde's eye and she quickly walked over to where the twinkling was coming from at the head of the bed. Emma's brow furrowed when she realized what had caught her attention; there were restraints of some kind built in to the headboard of the bed. She fingered the dark leather curiously, running her thumbs over the cool silver clasps.
Emma forced herself away from the cuffs – she had to admit she was intrigued - before continuing her exploration of the room. As she walked toward the wall adjacent to the bed, her outer thigh hit the sharp edge of a trunk and Emma scowled, rubbing her leg in quick circles. "Fuck," she growled, darting her eyes back and forth between her quickly bruising skin and the dark wooden chest before her. It was tall and long and reminded her of something Mary Margaret had to keep extra afghan blankets and pillows in. Squatting, the blonde rested her thumbs on the golden switches on each end and pushed the buttons, the top of the chest popping open with ease. Emma pulled the lid up and rested it against the edge of the bed. She blinked down at the contents before her; a deep red blush instantly crept up the younger woman's neck and cheeks when she came to the realization of what exactly lay before her.
A dark, black belted harness sat tucked in the corner, along with its respective phallic attachment, a pair of black lace panties, knee high fuck me boots, and a long, thin riding crop were just some of the plethora of toys and treats hidden in the trunk. Emma eyed each piece with a mixture of fear and excitement. This room was…
Emma jumped when she felt a warm pair of hands on her shoulders. "You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" Regina purred, running a single red fingernail back and forth over Emma's bare shoulder.
The blonde didn't dare turn around. Instead, she stared forward at her hands and reveled in the brunette's taunting touch. "I-what is this place?" Emma asked, trying to keep her voice steady as Regina's fingernail tickled the back of her neck. She could feel the wind of movement behind her as the brunette knelt down behind her.
"I like to call it my…playroom." Regina emphasized the word with a seductive drawl that made the blonde's stomach flutter. There was a beat of excruciating silence as the brunette took Emma's earlobe between her teeth and tugged before darting her tongue out to swipe over the smooth skin. "Would you like to play, Ms. Swan?"