A/N: Most of my stories are on a kind of indefinite hiatus right now. If I get super inspired, I may update any one of them at any point, but so much is going on for me IRL right now that I just don't have time to reliably update fic. It is my absolute intention to finish every one of my stories at some point, I just cannot make any promises for the next few months. To make up for all that, here is a one shot. I have no clue where it came from. Well. It came from being sick of preamble. And bullshit from 99% of the people in my life, leading to extreme frustration… (i.e. it's SMUT!) Oh yeah and I'm sure I'm not the first to use this song but The Black Keys are love and you should listen to them, especially at THE song (you'll know when you get to it). If you're really slow, yes, the song is entitled Howlin' For You.
HOWLIN' FOR YOU
It had been a long night. A torturously long night. Regina Mills slammed the door to her office closed with far more force than necessary and marched out of the Town Hall, her heels clicking angrily on the white marble floor as she made her way back to the parking lot, her car, and eventually her empty house - Henry had texted her to tell her, not ask, tell, that he was staying over with a friend.
Okay, so things between them had been amazing recently. They were working on finding the author together, he was forgiving her for everything she had done when she'd been the Evil Queen, even other people in the town were beginning to like her… But she was sick of being GUILTY. Yeah, she had done bad things, but everyone had, Snow, Charming, Robin… They had all killed. And now Robin had fucked off with Marian (good riddance, really) and Emma was screwing the dirty pirate and Regina was alone, to be pitied, to be slowly, oh so fucking slowly, forgiven. Just so long as she gave up on the darkness, the sass, the anger at her past, basically her entire life…
"FUCK," she yelled, slamming her hands down on the steering wheel. She was so done. So fucking done. She liked that word. Fuck. Not that she'd had a good one in forever. Robin had been nice to look at, but he was a selfish lover and he'd done little more than scratch the itch.
Emma was probably cosying up with the two idiots right about now, drinking wine and talking about birds or flowers or whatever the hell Charmings talked about when they weren't off getting in other people's way and ruining all their fun. Or worse, she could be cosying up with Hook, drinking rum and talking about how nice it was to wear the same leather jacket over and over and over.
Regina pulled into her drive, growling as she thought of the mountains of paperwork she'd waded through that day, trying to keep the fools in town in order. They didn't seem to realise how difficult ruling over them was. It required a great deal of time, effort, organisation, funding… And where was Gold, the man who had actually created this damn mess? Oh, just swanning around somewhere, pleasing himself as always. Swanning. Damn it! Why did everything lead back to Emma Fucking Swan?!
Regina closed the door of her car with a satisfying crash and went into the house, kicking off her heels with unnecessary force, dropping her jacket and purse on the floor out of spite, and unzipping her constricting dress, finally able to breathe. These outfits… Sure, they were nothing on the enchanted forest, but what was it with society and not valuing a woman unless she wore outfits that left her practically unable to breathe? She turned up the heat in the mansion, poured herself a generous glass of cider, and stripped off her dress entirely, going upstairs in search of her soft, silk robe. She put it on, fuming, and downed her drink. She went back to the kitchen for another one, realizing on the way that she was famished. She hadn't eaten all day.
The fridge was empty. Breathing fire (Maleficent would have been so proud), she grabbed the phone and dialled the diner.
"I don't suppose you've upgraded to home delivery?" she enquired.
On the other end of the line, Ruby seemed amused. "I'm afraid not, Madam Mayor-"
She was cut off by some imbecile talking to her. Couldn't they see she was busy? Regina waited impatiently, drumming her fingers against the kitchen counter.
"Regina?"
It was Emma. She sounded… Troubled. Regina wanted to scream as her heart gave a twang for the annoying-as-hell Sheriff. Yeah, yeah, they were friends now, and yeah, Emma brought her root beer and they vanquished evil (real evil) together and chatted over coffee BUT EMMA WAS AN IDIOT SPAWN WITH APPALLING TASTE IN MEN and what was more, she was the definition of off-limits. The sickly Snow might tolerate Regina now, but it was obvious she hated even the casual friendship her nemesis was developing with her daughter.
"Miss Swan," Regina said. "What on earth are you talking to me for?"
Regina heard a shaky intake of breath. "I… If you like, I can bring something over for you. I didn't eat yet either." Emma paused. "And I think we need to talk."
Oh, hell. What was she supposed to do now? Regina drank the rest of her cider and tsked into the phone. Talking was the LAST thing she wanted to do. She'd rather be eaten alive by a chernabog. But Emma was hot and she wanted to come over and she was going to bring food…
"Fine," she said shortly. "Nothing fried."
"I know," Emma reminded her. Regina thought about the salad. Where had Emma even found a kale salad in Storybrooke?
She poured yet another glass of smooth amber liquid and almost moaned as it burned its way down her throat. She went into the living room and turned on her stereo. Springsteen. Ain't Good Enough For You. How fitting. She turned up the volume and switched to cider straight from the bottle.
She threw a pillow across the room. It was incredibly satisfying. She followed it with her cider glass. That was even better. Then she opened her hand (the one without the cider bottle in it) and made a fireball, feeling her magic bubble inside her, fuelled by the alcohol, more volatile, more fun. She wasn't quite drunk enough to forget that burning her house down might be a bit risky, so she turned the fire into darts and hurled them across the room with her magic, burying them in the wall. The room needed redecorating anyway. It wasn't black enough.
She looked down at herself, grinning. It had been WAY too long. She flicked her wrist and she was back in all her evil regalia, complete with killer eyeliner and cleavage to die for. She took another swig of cider.
Emma chose this precise moment to arrive at her door.
"Why, Miss Swan. What a fucking pleasure," she sang as she opened the door.
Emma, on the verge of an emotional breakdown, froze as she took in the scene, from the clothes and shoes on the floor to the general chaos of the house in general to the half empty bottle in Regina's hand to the Springsteen blaring away (through a stellar sound system) to the OUTFIT oh good lord… Emma had seen Regina like this once before but she'd been a little preoccupied with trying to stop a curse to really take it in.
And boy, was there a lot to take in.
She held up a paper bag as a peace offering.
"Ice cream?" she asked, figuring "Are you okay?" might earn her a fireball to the head. Regina moved aside to let her into the house, then led the way to the kitchen, balancing her bottle precariously on the edge of the counter as she bent down in search of spoons. She produced some, brandishing them victoriously. Emma took one, trying not to smile. She'd thought this was going to be so serious, but-
"What? Do you find this funny, Miss Swan?"
Emma bit her lip, then gave into it and laughed until her stomach hurt. "Yes," she said through her wheezes. "It's the best thing I've seen all year."
Regina thought for a moment, then grinned. Something about Emma's sparkling eyes made it very difficult to remain angry. She remembered something.
"Why were you so upset?" she asked. Emma sighed, opening a tub of icecream but snatching the cider bottle and gulping down several measures of it before starting on her food.
"Killian's a fucktard," she said eventually. Regina could think of a million biting responses, but in the end she held back.
"I'm sorry," she said almost gently.
Emma rolled her eyes. "No you're not. At least, I hope you're not."
Regina's mouth fell open slightly. "Why?" she breathed. She took a spoonful of ice cream while she waited for an answer. Shit, she was drunk. And the ice cream was amazing. Yet another reason to love Emma. Wait, no. No. No no no no no no no she did not love Emma she did not love Emma she did not-
"Because you've been sorry enough. I can see you trying to be good, trying to atone… And I get it, and it's great, but don't forget yourself, Regina. Don't lose… Don't lose everything that makes you… That makes you the most amazing, beautiful, smart, strong, powerful woman I have ever met."
Regina almost spat out her latest spoonful of mint-choc-chip. Emma drank some more cider and stared at Regina's boobs.
"How do you even make them do that?" she asked. Regina smiled seductively.
"Intricate underwear. It's a nightmare to get out of."
"More like a fantasy." Wait. Had she said that out loud? Emma blushed bright red and it was Regina's turn to cackle. She did so with great abandon, then helped herself to some more cider and pulled Emma into the living room. Dancing In The Dark had started and Regina wanted to dance. Emma dropped her spoon; it clattered on the marble floor. Regina set down the cider and twirled around, her black dress fanning out as she stretched out her arms and conjured purple and gold fireworks to spiral with her. Emma gasped, hypnotised by the magic and the breathtaking woman before her. She finished the cider and joined Regina's dance, even adding her own magic to the extravagant display.
The song ended, as did the playlist. In the silence, Regina regained a little of her mind.
"Why are you here, Miss Swan?" she asked, her words slurring as she found another bottle of cider. Emma went over to the stereo, flipping through Regina's ipod. She looked up, but said nothing. She had found the song. She let the silence swell around them for a moment, her eyes raking over the Queen's body, knowing full well the tension she was building.
She hit play.
The drums began. She walked, slow, across the room, shedding her jacket, licking her lips.
Regina just stared, heart racing, frozen to the spot, knowing what was coming but sure it couldn't be what she thought, what she wanted, what she had wanted for years, what she needed.
Emma crashed her lips into Regina's. Fuck the preamble. She'd wanted to do this since the night they met. Regina let out a high pitched moan far too girly for her liking. The cider bottle hit the floor, shattering on impact. Regina wondered if it had shattered in her brain, too. Emma hummed with satisfaction as she plundered the full red lips and bitter tasting mouth. She pinned Regina against the wall, pressing hard into her pure-sex-dress, thrusting her hips with every swipe of her tongue, the rhythm of the song shuddering through them, magic buzzing wherever they touched, their lips, their hands…
Emma felt the graze of Regina's teeth on her bottom lip as she pulled her mouth away to kiss Regina's jaw, her neck, her collarbone, and then further down, the exposed skin a clear invitation. Regina arched her back, twisting one hand in Emma's hair as the other tried to find purchase anywhere else.
"Bed," she growled. Emma stood; Regina groaned at the loss of her sweet, sweet mouth.
Emma grabbed either side of the neckline of Regina's dress and pulled, hard. Brute force alone wouldn't have done it, but with a burst of gold light that made Regina scream with pleasure, the black bodice was in two pieces. Emma threw them over her shoulder.
"You weren't kidding," she muttered when she saw the black corset which, combined with the tight leather pants Regina wore under her gowns, might have let the brunette pass for a Dominatrix. Emma imagined her holding a riding crop and buried her face in Regina's neck, giggling.
Regina lifted her by the shoulders.
"What?" she asked, but her eyes twinkled with amusement.
"I just… I just can't with you," Emma said, the grin on her face enormous as she went about unlacing the corset. "The power suits were enough to get me… You're a pornographer's wet dream."
Regina didn't know whether to be embarrassed, amused, or flattered. Emma finished with the corset and her laughter disappeared.
"Oh, I meant it as a compliment," she said, absolutely serious. Regina smiled her favourite sultry smile, then threw Emma against the opposite wall. Emma waited. She could wait for Regina forever. Another twirl of Regina's fingers and Emma was standing in just her tank top and panties.
Lace, Regina noticed approvingly. And very little of it. She couldn't wear much under jeans that tight, Regina realized. It would show. Another spell and Regina's own pants were gone. She kept the boots and corset, owning the joke rather than being the butt of it. She contemplated a riding crop but rolled her eyes even at the thought. And then she was wearing nothing.
Nothing.
Emma let out a desperate whine, still magically pinned against the wall. Regina took her sweet time getting over there. Emma wanted to take back the waiting forever thing. She felt her own magic swell inside her. Drunk magic. Wow. She'd never had this before. She exhaled and there was an explosion which probably shook most of Storybrooke.
Regina opened her eyes. They were in the bedroom. She was standing at the foot of the bed. Emma was standing in front of her, about an inch away. All the clothes were gone.
"No more magic," Regina suggested. Emma coloured a little.
"Okay," she said. Their lips touched again, softly at first, ready this time, slow, sensual, led by nothing but passion, passion which built and built as their fingertips traced over smooth, sweaty skin. Their hips slammed together; they both moaned at the brief connection. Regina ran her tongue along Emma's pulling slowly out of her mouth to kiss lower, sucking hard at her pulse point before pulling them both onto the bed. There was a brief wrestle for the top spot but Regina lost all competition when she took Emma's erect nipple in her mouth, caressing it with her tongue, rolling it against her teeth. Emma threw her head back, a stream of curse words escaping her lips as Regina transferred her ministrations to the other breast.
The Black Keys were still playing. Regina smiled into Emma's skin as she bit and kissed and licked and sucked her way down Emma's sculpted stomach. Emma bent to Regina's touch; Regina had one hand at her breast; the other traced its way along the underside of Emma's thigh, finding the sensitive spot just below her ass and gripping tightly, creeping closer but never quite close enough to where Emma needed it.
Emma made a noise of animal fury and lifted her legs suddenly, catching Regina off guard. Emma's knee brushed against Regina's wet centre for an agonising second before she rolled them, readjusting so Regina was trapped underneath. Emma kissed her deeply, letting their lips battle for several glorious minutes. She had one knee between Regina's legs and she made just enough contact to excite but not satisfy. Two could play at the teasing game. She kissed lower, worshipping Regina's breasts in a similar way that Regina had done to hers, kneading the flesh with her hands as she moved down more quickly, past Regina's hips and, pushing her legs further apart, her inner thigh. She took a mouthful of flesh, using her arm to keep Regina down on the bed. She inhaled Regina's hot, salty scent and allowed herself a lingering taste.
Regina screamed at the contact, holding nothing back, but to her rage, Emma climbed up the bed again and went back to kissing her mouth. She tasted herself on Emma's tongue, mingled with cider and the sweetness of the ice cream. It drove her wild.
"Please," she moaned into Emma's mouth. Emma was honoured to hear it, and responded accordingly, returning her kisses to Regina's labia, exploring the deliciously wet folds with her tongue before tracing across her clit. She used a hand to steady Regina's bucking hips; the other was back at those voluptuous breasts. Regina, a multitasker if ever there was one, had managed to manoeuvre one of her legs between Emma's, bending her knee, feeling Emma slide against it.
Regina's hands found their way into Emma's hair again as she climbed higher and higher, suspended by an impossibility, a promise that had to be broken but didn't and didn't and it just got better and better and OH GOD YES better so good OH GOD so good so
FUCK.
Regina regained consciousness to find Emma laughing at her side.
"What…" she looked around. Pretty much everything in the room had shattered, the mirror, the windows. She could hear a car alarm going off. Several car alarms. She let out a huff of air.
"I guess Storybrooke's on a fault line," she said, finally getting Emma on her back, maybe using magic to help her just a little bit. Emma's smile was wiped off her face when Regina wasted no time in kissing her - and far from her mouth. Regina grabbed Emma's gorgeous ass, digging her nails into the tight round masterpiece as she positioned her, almost sitting at the head of the bed, the angle exposing her core to Regina's mouth even more fully. It didn't take much to throw her head first and screaming over the edge. So much for Sheriff-style composure.
Emma's orgasm set the sprinkler system off. She praised Regina's safety-conscious home. It was a good thing they both liked kissing in the rain.
A/N: Reviews turn me on. And then I write more.