A/N: This is a oneshot. I think. Why can't my thesis write this easily?
"Fuck," Emma Swan breathes into the darkness of her bedroom. "I'm broken." She slowly pulls her hand away from slick folds and lays it to rest awkwardly on her right hip. With a sigh, she rolls out of bed and slides on a pair of sweatpants that had been lying in a forgotten pool by her bed. She hisses as the material brushes against sensitive flesh, and grimaces at the pleasure that had been denied her.
She makes her way to the bathroom and takes in the reflection of a very flushed, very haunted Emma. Her glistening fingers shake slightly, and her index finger is actually a little bit wrinkled from its long, unsuccessful journey through her very wet core.
This was getting pathetic.
For two weeks now, Emma Swan had found it impossible to orgasm. The Dark One was supposed to have the most powerful magic in all the lands…and yet this simple act of carnal pleasure was wholly denied her. She had tried absolutely everything, magical and nonmagical alike, but the ache went on unsatisfied.
Eternally drenched; eternally unquenched.
Emma chuckled darkly at her little joke. It wasn't a wonder all the previous Dark Ones went absolutely batshit.
Could she magic up another person, take their heart and force someone to have sex with her? Sure. But the darkness hadn't consumed her that much yet. Part of her—hell, most of her—was eagerly anticipating that day, however. Frankly, she was certain she wouldn't survive much longer.
She waved her hand to magick up a glass of vodka, wincing as the thrill of magic trailed straight to her core. The liquid thankfully appeared in her hands, and she threw it back past her lips in an attempt to dull some of the sensations.
A certain brunette floated into her mind—not that the brunette hadn't been floating to her mind plenty lately. Her voice, her skin, her deep penetrating eyes…those blood red lips. And that voice.
But what came to mind right now was a certain dagger that she had in her possession. A certain dagger that could make Emma do anything. Maybe even—
"I don't think you want to do that, dearie," an annoying voice said behind her. Emma could see him in the mirror behind her. His gold, scaly skin glittered sickeningly in the half-light of the shower.
"Why not?" Emma asks him, glaring at him through the mirror.
"Do you really think going to the Evil Queen for that wouldn't give her any sort of…advantage over you?" the little imp asked with a knowing smile.
"She has nothing on me."
"Except for, of course, the dagger," Rumplestiltskin pointed out with a broad smile that bared pointed, yellowed teeth.
Emma continued to glare at him, but at least relished in the fact that his disturbing presence was making the throbbing abate significantly. Like a cold shower.
"You could, of course, just steal the dagger and…take things into your own hands, if you will," he offers.
Emma Swan pales at the idea; the Dark One jumps at it. But it does seem like a good idea, especially if this…problem continues to persist.
With a wave of her hand, Emma is wearing an all-black number instead of her sweatpants and t-shirt. With a second wave of her hand and dark tendrils of smoke, she is in Regina Mills' bedroom.
Brown locks spill over olive cheeks, and ever-red lips are pursed as if in thought. Does this woman ever take her makeup off?
Lids are closed over brown orbs and breasts are obscured by a t-shirt and a blood red silk sheet.
Interesting. Emma in a million years would have never guessed Regina Mills slept in t-shirts.
"Wake up," Emma says low and urgently into the brunette's ear.
Chocolate brown eyes shoot open, landing on cold green ones.
"Miss Swan," Regina says with a slight gasp. She recovers quickly, though, her voice hardening, "What are you doing in my bedroom at this hour?"
She pulls the sheet up to cover herself more, and takes in the blonde's ever-whitening hair and troubled features. With a heavy heart she realizes that Emma Swan was very quickly slipping away. She steels her mind against the onslaught of terrible thoughts that threaten to consume her mind once more. She needs to believe that Emma is strong enough to fight this.
"I have a problem," the blonde says quickly. "And the only way to solve it is with the dagger."
Regina laughs mirthlessly. "And you really think that I'm going to give it to you?" Her mouth hangs slightly open in a mocking, yet incredulous stare.
"Yes. You have to," the request comes out slightly more desperately than the Dark One intended.
"And what could possibly warrant me giving you the dagger you trusted me with?" A slim eyebrow moves upward, challenging the blonde.
It makes Emma equal parts aroused and angered, seeing how comfortable the brunette was in challenging her. She was the Dark One and infinitely powerful, yet the former Queen treated her demand as little more than a joke. She steps closer to the bed, the impulse to take the Queen right then and there almost winning out over the more logical part of her.
They were merely two feet from one another now, and suddenly Emma realizes what Regina is wearing.
"That's my Flogging Molly t-shirt," the Dark One states, her flat tone merely hinting at incredulity and mirth. She had acquired the band t-shirt sometime in her late teens at a concert she had snuck into. She had enjoyed the band so immensely that she had thought to "get" one of their t-shirts from the merch table before leaving. They had even signed it for her. Now it was so threadbare that it had at least two significant holes in it, but it was so comfortable, Emma had never had the heart to get rid of it.
And now Regina Mills was wearing it.
In the darkness, Emma could still see the blush that crept down Regina's face and onto her chest. Her eyes wouldn't meet Emma's just yet. "Yes. But that has nothing to do with the fact that you just poofed into my room at—"
She glances at the clock, which reads 3:14 a.m.
"Three in the morning, demanding the one thing that we have that is keeping you from destroying everything."
Emma sighed, realizing very quickly that this would not be as easy as she had anticipated. Perhaps she had misinterpreted the devotion she had so recently seen in the brunette's eyes?
"Give me the dagger, Mayor Mills. It is—I assure you—quite necessary," she says slightly more forcefully. She holds out her palm in expectation.
Regina just cocks a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and purses her lips before calmly asking why exactly she deemed the dagger necessary. She watches as the rapidly paling blonde scowls.
Emma knows that lying won't get her anywhere with the brunette, who by now knew how to read every micro expression she made.
"Being the Dark One makes me exceedingly…" she says, biting her lip for a second. "Aroused. And unable to…"
Regina just calmly looks at her, only one eyebrow cocked in waiting. A slight tilt of her lips to the side betrays her amusement at the blonde's predicament, but she certainly wasn't going to aid the faltering woman in front of her.
The blonde lets out a frustrated puff of air. "Unable to finish," she hisses through her thin red lips. Her green eyes fail to meet the brunette's for a second before defiantly flashing and landing on her friend's face once more.
There was what could only be described as amusement and deviousness etched onto its olive features.
A pink tongue darts out to moisten red lips. A smirk.
"And you want the dagger so you can command yourself to do that?" The derision and exasperation was very thinly concealed, and Emma Swan would be lying if she said she wasn't very turned on by it. Her blackening heart was pulsing ever faster in her chest, pushing large quantities of blood southward.
Her hands fisted beside her, and her jaw ticks ever so slightly—two things that do not go unnoticed by the smirking redeemed Evil Queen. A slow smile spreads across her face, knowing and predatory. A tongue darts out fiendishly to graze a bottom lip again. Eyes sweep up and down her dark form.
She knows the answer, and Emma doesn't have to say a thing.
With a low, mirthless laugh, she rises out of the bed, the sheets falling away to reveal a Regina clothed only in Emma's t-shirt and a black lacy thong. Long olive legs bared for ravishing. The shirt's owner feels her heart speed up tenfold.
"You don't need the dagger for that, dear," her low voice grinds out. Her lips are mere inches away from Emma's, her dark, hooded eyes focused wholly on their target.
"Oh believe me. I've tried everything else," Emma breathes out.
"I'd imagine it's a little hard to get off when Rumplestiltskin is always watching," Regina purrs out, her hands coming to rest on the lapels of Emma's black leather jacket.
Didn't she know. A glare sufficed to answer the brunette.
"What about the filthy pirate? Couldn't get your ship to set sail?"
Emma wasn't sure whether she wanted to slap the woman in front of her or pull flush against her body.
Emma's flashing eyes once again were all that the brunette needed in answer.
"Oh," Regina laughs, blowing puffs of breath onto the blonde's face. Her deep voice vibrated in her chest. "He wouldn't even get into bed with you! How noble of him."
Her hand moves from the lapel of the blonde's black jacket and to the blonde's defined cheekbone, where it latches on with a fierce grip. "And what makes you think I will?"
Emma smiles, knowing she's won. "Because we've been denying this for years, and you want this just as much as I do."
And with that she closes the gap that had been decreasing ever since she entered the room. Their lips meet in a fierce, close-mouthed kiss that knocks the breath out of the smaller brunette and makes the blonde weak at the knees. Their mouths begin moving over each other's, gripping and releasing in sloppy synch.
Rumplestiltskin, Emma Swan realizes, had yet to make an appearance.
The brunette pulls back forcefully as the weight of what was about to happen hits her. Brown eyes scan green ones for verity. "Two ground rules, Dark One," she says, spitting out the name with derision.
"Yes?"
"One: Henry never finds out about this. And two: if you so much as mention the dagger when we're in bed, I'll throw you out so fast you won't have time to get those ungodly tight pants back on."
The blonde smiles mutely in response. With the prodding of a demanding eyebrow, she affirms her acceptance of the terms verbally, impatient to resume their exploration of one another.
"Good," Regina confirms again, and begins pushing the jacket off of the blonde. She pushes aside the feelings threatening to consume her—now wasn't the time for sentimentality. If she could provide Emma Swan any amount of respite from Rumplestiltskin and the control of the Dark One, she would. Even at the expense of her own heart.
She crashes her lips against the blonde, angry at herself for even dwelling on those feelings at all. She had Robin; Emma had the pirate. She was physically cheating on the man she had fought so hard to win. The one she had been so sure could give her some semblance of happiness, because anything was an impossibility for the former Evil Queen.
Besides, there was no need to introduce emotional cheating as well the acute pain she knew would result from it. She had already buried her feelings for the irritating blonde once—she vowed not to let them consume her again.
A tongue pushes forcefully against her lips, and she opens her mouth accepting it in. She feels rather than hears the blonde moan against her as their tongues connect, writhing and clashing in pleasurable contest.
She feels Emma's hand slip beneath the hem of the embarrassing nightshirt to cup her ass. She feels a moan slip past her lips and into the waiting mouth of the blonde as she uses her tight grip to pull her ever closer. Emma's long fingers knead into the tight flesh, leaving her gasping for air.
"Off," Regina growls, tugging at the blonde's tight black shirt. They extricate themselves just long enough for Emma to lift her arms and for Regina to veritably tear it off of her. Before she can demand the same from the blonde's pants, she feels herself being backed up until her knees hit the back of the bed.
Green eyes dilated and glinting with challenge dare her to protest as she's shoved forcefully onto the bed. Her legs are forced open and the blonde dips her head between them to swipe her tongue without preamble up the brunette's wet, thong-covered slit.
She hisses at the sensation, but angrily grabs platinum hair to pull the woman out from between her legs. There was no way this was going to be that easy.
"Not interested in undressing me before you fuck me?" Regina's dark voice asks thickly.
"I don't think either of us is known for our patience." A barely-there smirk graces thin red lips.
With a determined growl, Regina finds her hands are flying to Emma's pants, where they unbutton and unzip the tight black material. She utters the same one-syllable command again, and the blonde is more than willing to comply.
Regina sits up long enough to pull the soft material of Emma's shirt over her head, watching with dilated eyes as Emma did the same. Her heart stops for a second as she guiltily remembers how she pilfered it from Emma's room a few evenings prior while she was picking up her son from the Charmings' apartment.
Her son.
Henry was taking the idea of Emma as the Dark One with a level of understanding Regina couldn't possibly wrap her dark heart around. She was so proud of him for his faith in his birthmom, even if she was personally disgusted with the latter. Emma had sabotaged their son's first chance at a relationship. And while Regina might have been harboring some ideas in that vein of her own…she would have never…
Would she?
Her thoughts are ripped away as she feels long tapered fingers forcefully twist her nipples. She can't stifle the cry—half pleasure, half pain—that rips out of her throat.
"Swan," she hisses. "Henry." Her dark eyes glance toward the door, acknowledging the presence of their son two doors down.
With a wave of her hand a violet shimmer wards outward and sinks into the walls of the room, glimmering slightly before disappearing completely.
Regina looks into the green eyes of the Dark One, lips tilted up in an appreciative smirk. "Silencing spell. I'm impressed."
"Yeah, well what else are you going to do when you're alone all day?" The thin red lips barely open to push out hard words that cut Regina to the bone. She knows—god does she know—how lonely the Darkness is.
Regina knows her pity is wasted on the Dark One, but she also knows it's written all over her face despite herself. The return look from the paler woman above her confirms the blonde's disgust.
Emma—her Emma—no. Not her Emma, but the real one, anyway, would have reacted much the same. The thought of a smile almost reached her lips, but it was swept away by harsh lips and teeth.
Their nearly naked bodies press against one another fluidly, crashing against one another in waves under the dull roar of heartbeats. It's powerful, pulling Regina under in a dizzying riptide that nearly tears her breath away.
"Regina?" Emma asks dully. Her voice isn't laced with anything one can call concern, but her stormy green eyes carry hints of it as they search the older woman's face.
Regina exhales shakily with a weak laugh, "It, uh, seems I haven't done this in awhile. Things are a little—ah," Regina breaks off with a moan as Emma's knee comes into contact with her core. It lights her body up and jolts her more alive than she has felt in a very long time.
She and Robin had agreed that sex was not in the cards for them until things became more certain, mostly because they would likely have to explain 'sleepovers' to their respective children, and they didn't want to create any sort of hope or expectation for the kids while things were still so new. There was also the topic of Zelena…but they weren't really going to go there just yet.
"A little sensitive," she breathes before pulling the blonde in for a kiss. The blonde moves against her, pushing her leg into Regina in deliberate thrusts.
"You're. So. Wet," Emma whispers into Regina's ear before swirling her tongue around its shell and biting down on the lobe and winning a rough gasp from the brunette under her. She alternately licks and sucks the flesh, aiming to mark.
She makes her way down Regina's neck in the same fashion, wantonly kissing, biting and sucking on the smooth flesh and leaving a trail of purple in her wake. Her lips smile against the throbbing skin of the woman's pulse point at the thought of the former mayor in a turtleneck and scarf the following day.
Her mouth moves down taut skin. Her tongue darts out to trace a prominent clavicle and up to the fleshy spot where her neck meets her shoulder. It earns a sharp bite.
She moves down to a right breast and treats it to one, two…three generous swipes of a tongue before moving on to the left to do the same. Normally, Emma Swan would spend much more time on these things, but she was currently not just Emma Swan and was currently very much interested in the source of that tantalizing smell that echoed earth and rain and mushrooms and apples. Always apples.
She kissed down the plane of a flat stomach, sliding her hands down the dips and curves of sides parallel to her head. When she reached the beginning of the triangle patch of neatly cropped black curls, she stopped.
Her hands slide behind hips, where they cupped the most perfect ass Emma Swan was sure she would ever be graced with. Both hands squeeze simultaneously and she shudders as Regina whimpers.
Fuck why hadn't Emma done this earlier?
The thought crosses both women's minds at once.
Emma reluctantly pulls her hands away from Regina's ass to pull down the bothersome piece of fabric that was the last barrier to the ambrosia that was all of Regina Mills.
God there was so much of her. She coated Emma's fingers, her nose her chin, her lips. She was drowning in Regina Mills and fuck if it didn't feel like the best thing she had ever experienced.
Her tongue swipes up once, languishing in all Regina had to give her. It falls down again, muscling its way into Regina's center and earning her a loud, pleased exhale from the former queen. She moves back up, ever so lightly touching the increasingly sensitive bundle of nerves in almost imperceptible strokes. She can hear the brunette's breathing increasing steadily as her strokes increase in forcefulness and speed.
Her tongue moves lower again, dipping into the source of the wetness before sliding down even farther to a taut stretch of skin. Regina emits what Emma could only define as a squeak of shock, before it is replaced by a sound much deeper.
"Please, Emma," Regina pants, cocking her hips upwards to give the blonde better access.
Instead, the blonde flips her over, placing one hand on the dip of the older woman's back to push her into the most desirable position.
"Fuck, Regina," Emma breathes. Her admiration for the view in front of her is so genuine, she almost feels like herself again. Almost.
Because the real Emma Swan would never be doing this and certainly not in this manner to her former enemy. With a bitter laugh, Emma dives into the brunette again, her hands finding purchase on full cheeks before her tongue finds wetness once more. It drags up slowly with firm pressure, ignoring the short, sharp gasps of the woman beneath her. One hand snakes downward to find the brunette's bundle of nerves again, so that when her tongue hits its mark in the puckered target, the brunette almost collapses from the sensation.
"Uh-uh," Emma warns. She moves her other hand to the woman's waist, which she holds firmly in demonstration. "Be good."
She begins her assault again, loving the taste of the woman's musk and the feeling of the woman wildly bucking beneath her. Regina would cant toward the bed at Emma's touch, only to fly back upwards to receive more in a confusing haze of pleasure.
"Emma," the name tore from Regina's lips as her body contracted and trembled, denying Emma any more access to the spot she would gladly have ravished all night. When the former queen collapsed finally on the bed, Emma lay next to her on her side. Regina took that as an invitation and moved into her side, leaving Emma no choice but to wrap her arm around the brunette.
When she had regained some of her breath, the brunette whispered with a humorless laugh, "Nobody has ever done that to me. And you do it on your first go." There was some incredulity there, and a helluva lot of admiration.
"Oh. Your first time? How cute," Emma mutters. Part of her was cringing on the inside at the words and basking in the feel of the small, powerful woman curled into her. The other part—obviously the louder one—found the after sex talking tiresome.
Another humorless laugh escaped from the brunette. This one, though, was much darker. Much more like the mayor Emma had known when she first came to Storybrooke. "I guess I forgot who I was talking to, Dark One," she spits.
In a millisecond, she is on top of Emma and grabbing roughly at the blonde's hair. That insufferable hair that continued to get whiter, effacing the sunshine that was Emma Swan. Her insistent lips roughly bit at the Dark One's neck, encouraged by Emma's hard puffs of air.
Her lips moved downwards in a bruising trail, roughly tearing and sloppily soothing the expanse of skin at her mercy. When she reached the blonde's taut nipples, the pants turned to moans. A rough tongue swipes tantalizingly across a pert bud, only to retreat in the face of rougher teeth.
Nimble fingers pinch and roll nipples forcefully as a relentless mouth moves farther south. Emma's body ripples with her touch, like cresting waves to the breath of wind. Regina refuses to let herself worship the woman under her—no. Not now. Not like this.
A sharp sound drags out of the blonde's mouth as full lips finally meet the apex of tight thighs. Like the hiss of sand underneath a wave. She parts the woman's long legs, and Regina feels something tremble deep within herself, simply hoping she won't break before Emma Swan leaves her bed.
Her thighs are shining with desire, and they have Regina Mills salivating like a Pavlovian dog. A soft bundle of nerves stands wantonly from under a protective hood. Regina nearly collapses at the sight of it. Her body moves of its own accord; suddenly-dry tongue seeking out its prize like water. The body underneath her jerks, hands scrambling in her hair.
Part of Regina wants to make Emma, make the Dark One, beg for it. Part of her wants to make this go as quickly as possible so she can nurse her ever-growing wounds. And most of her wants this to simply last forever.
Her tongue caresses the nerves softly, moving in careful circles. Her right hand slides between slick, engorged folds and down to the source of the blonde's wetness. Her index finger circles the opening cautiously, asking for permission.
Regina curses herself for being so polite.
"Do it." The words tear unwillingly from the blonde's lips.
Regina plunges her finger into the blonde's center, reveling in the warmth and tightness she finds there. Feeling Emma's body beg for more, she withdraws her finger and adds a second. Her body virtually shivers with the feeling of ribbed, pulsing flesh welcoming her. She angles her body up, sliding up the blonde's torso to bury her face in the blonde's neck. Her lips find purchase on soft flesh, which she sucks and bites in time with her thrusts.
Her arm is planted on the left side of Emma's head, her right one flexing and burning painfully. Emma's vocal cords are rumbling out whimpers and moans just inches away from Regina's face, and it takes all of Regina's power not to kiss the life out of the woman below her.
Emma, for her part, is spiraling higher, twisting in a tight haze of pleasure upwards to that peak she just needs to fall off of. She's panting, dizzied and clouded by the need to fall and she's there on the precipice but she just can't…
"Emma, come for me," Regina rolls into her ear. Her slickened thumb pushes firmly on the Savior's clit and she smiles, feeling the blonde come undone under her.
Tight, hot walls clench around her fingers, undulating around her. Regina can feel Emma's pulse around her and for this moment she knows she is a part of her. She rests her dark head against the Savior, savoring their sweet moments of lassitude and waiting for the Dark One to return.
"Mmm," rumbles the blonde after a few moments. "You fixed me."
And in that moment, she is Emma Swan. Clear green eyes that hold warmth and passion; lips curled in soft admiration. It sweeps Regina's breath away and makes her heart clench pleasurably.
Regina nuzzles her face back into the blonde's shoulder, clinging to the warmth she found there and trying to let go of the hope Emma's 'return' had brought her. A few moments later, she accomplishes the latter.
"This means nothing," Regina growls once she has felt the blonde shift uncomfortably beneath her. In the darkness, she doesn't see the shadow that crosses over the blonde's face. "That isn't to say it wasn't pleasurable." The last word rolls off the woman's tongue like the purr from a cat. "I am at your service anytime you need." Here, she pauses.
"Because I know how lonely it is, Emma. And I won't abandon you. If this is what you need, I will damned well make sure you get it, okay?" Her words flowed jaggedly in their sincerity. They were pushed down a path Regina usually did not tread.
"But…I will not be one of many. I have no intention of getting any…diseases and have much more dignity than being used as an afterthought. So you have a choice," Regina ended much more brusquely, all trace of vulnerability erased.
Emma smiled to herself in the darkness. Regina was asking her to be exclusive. And as much as the former mayor tried to make it appear practical, Emma knew that the woman's feelings ran much deeper than even she was willing to admit.
"Of course, Regina. I appreciate your concerns," Emma responds coolly. Silence blankets them for a few seconds before she remembers. "What about Robin?"
Even not touching Regina, Emma could still feel the woman tense. It was cruel making her choose between her—the Dark One—and Robin, her supposed happy ending.
"Continue seeing him. He's your happy ending after all," Emma says, much to her own surprise. She wasn't even sure which part of her was saying it—things were all jumbled up.
A short exhale from the brunette. "Thank you," the words are quiet and rough. "Now go. I assume I took care of your problem?"
Yeah, but you've created an entirely new one.
With a puff of smoke, Emma Swan was gone.