AN: Hey, Merry Christmas to all that are celebrating, and to those of you that aren't, happy middle of the week. If you guys are anything like me, you may need a little brain break from all the festivities and family you love. For me, that break was writing this story. It didn't exactly turn out like I had planned, but I like it anyway. So, here's a little smutty, fluffy fun for your Christmas day.
"Miss Swan, remove your filthy boots from my desk this instant." My voice held a low warning tone, promising certain pain and suffering should my command be ignored.
Emma simply shot me a smug smirk, and hooked her right ankle over her left, failing to move her feet, "It doesn't actually bother you, does it, Madam Mayor?" I hated how her voice rumbled in a way that sent a blazing chill down my spine. "You just love to nag me."
"Actually, I loath your lax manners and disregard for my property, the opportunity to nag you is just a fringe benefit." I growled in return, un-crossing and re-crossing my legs.
"Oh, come off it, Regina. You called me here, now you're just going to gripe and bitch at me? Should I just go?" Her first question was rhetorical, but the second wasn't, and was delivered with a taunting grin.
I clenched my jaw, working the muscles to the point of pain as I glowered resentfully at her. Of course, I didn't want her to go, and she knew it. But, it was our show, our routine. She played the irritating fool, and I the controlling bitch. As my insides fumed with frustration, my eyes wandered to the swell of her breasts, one of their favorite spots. She had worn a tight, low cut, dark green t-shirt, likely guessing that I'd appreciate it. I did. The color accented her eyes, and the fabric stretched across her chest and revealed just a hint of cleavage, exactly as I preferred. "Go if you'd like. No one's stopping you. At least, with you gone, I might actually have an office free of sloppy cave dwellers. Where did you even get those monstrosities you're wearing as shoes?"
A husky chuckle came from the blonde across from me as her eyes tracked mine, watching as my hungry gaze soaked up the view, completely undermining my insults. "They were a birthday gift from our son last year, and I love them. And, while I do enjoy the hate full, cat and mouse, head butting, Evil Queen vs. Saviour game we play, you do realize that you can never win, right?" Her eyes twinkled at me, but an almost sad slant tainted her cocky smirk.
My brows furrowed in offense and confusion, "Excuse me? Why would you assume I can't win?" I didn't bother denying her description or acknowledgment of our game. "I'm quite certain that I can meet and exceed your meager scheming and verbal sparring skills." I folded my arms over my chest, continuing to glare at my guest.
"I don't doubt that's possible." She arched a brow at my scowl, and elaborated, "However, neither one of us can win."
"And, why is that, Miss Swan?" I drawled as if bored, but curiosity sparked through me.
At that point, the toned blonde hoisted herself from the chair and made her way around the desk, leaning back against it directly in front of me. As her hip brushed my thigh, my body began to buzz from her proximity, and I had to actively remind myself to focus on her words. "Because, you and I aren't even playing the same game."
I rolled my eyes, "What does that mean?"
She then crossed her arms to mimic mine, pushing her chest up to momentarily distract me. When I returned my eyes to her darkening ones, she answered, "I mean, that you are playing a sophisticated game of manipulation and strategy, with short term and long term goals...like chess."
My smile grew smug at her accurate and flattering depiction of my endeavor to bring down her and her insipid family. Licking my lips, I smirked again, "So, you're not playing chess?"
"Oh, hell no, I suck at chess."
"Then, what game are you playing?"
Emma thought for a moment, then flicked her hand in the air, "Rock'em Sock'em Robots."
When my face scrunched in unamused confusion, she added, "You know, the game with the red and blue plastic robots? Where you each play a robot and punch the hell out of each other until someone's head pops off?"
A clear picture of Emma and I punching each other flew through my head. It was a rather relevant metaphor for us. I struggled to withhold a laugh, but it escaped anyway, "Well, that sounds delightful."
Emma shrugged, "It is a direct, blunt, aggressive type of battle, which I am excellent at."
Suddenly, my mind filled with the other aggressive things she was excellent at, and a warm, tingling flush bloomed across my chest. I squirmed in my chair as our eyes met in a heated gaze. She must have noticed my change in mood, because she unfolded her arms and moved closer to me, "On that note, let's get on with why you really called me here, yeah?"
I only nodded, and dropped my right leg down from its perch and to the ground next to the left. Emma wasted no time in pushing my form fitting black skirt up my thighs and straddling my lap. As she grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled up and over her head, my hands shot out to graze her taunt abs and my fingers dug into her hips. Her next words came out an octave lower, and with a slight waver, "You know that unfortunate part, though?" I shot her a curious glance, but quickly lost interest again as I un-clasped her bra. A small gasp came out before she continued, "We can't move past this prolonged fuck buddy stage until we at least start playing the same game."
Instead of replying, I lunged forward and clamped my lips tightly around a perfect, perky nipple. While she moaned and wiggled against me, my mind briefly considered her words. We had been engaging in random sexual encounters for over six months. The arrangement mostly worked for us. We could fight and bicker, and then, when the tension got to be too much to expel in arguments and vengeful ploys, we'd meet up and screw each other senseless. Afterwards, we acted as if nothing happened and returned to our destined path of opposition. Recently, I had noticed some very subtle shifts in our liaisons, but ignored them for the sake of convenience. No room existed for affection toward the savior, therefore no thought was spared. She did have a point, though. Should we ever wish to acknowledge or explore those changes, I could not keep plotting against her while she punched me in the face.
My train of thought was disrupted as I felt her start to grind harshly down onto my lap. The sensitivity of her breasts thrilled me. The first time we had sex, it was razor sharp and began mid-fight. One second we were spitting insults and the next we were frantically stripping off clothes. Unfamiliar with her body, I had zealously groped and bit at her insanely delicious breasts, unwittingly causing her to climax within a minute and without any attention to her core. I never stopped teasing her about that, but secretly I loved that I could reck that kind of havoc on her body with so little effort. Recognizing that I had been teasing her nipple just a tad too long, and had no interest in her coming so soon, I released it and brought her lips to mine in a frenzied kiss. As our tongues dueled in a familiar, but never predictable battle, the tightness between my legs increased and my panties grew damp.
Without preamble, I took her hand that was stroking my side and forced it under my bunched skirt. Not missing the unsubtle hint, Emma immediately pushed aside the thin strip of silk and ran her fingers through my wet folds. I jerked into her fingers and groaned into her mouth. Even after all this time, what she was capable of doing to my body fascinated me. Her deft fingers quickly circled my clit, not quite providing full contact. Emma ripped her lips away mid-kiss and latched onto my jaw, licking and nipping. It impressed me how quickly she discovered my trigger spot right behind and slightly below the hinge of my jaw. No other lover had ever found it, except Daniel, and it took him several months. Emma found it the second time we got together. She kissed the spot just as she roughly ran her fingers over my bundle of nerves. My back arched as I whimpered her name. That had been another interesting development. I never imagined that I would ever be writhing and chanting Emma's real name, but it had happened on more than one occasion.
The whimper spurred her into forgoing any more teasing. Skimming past my clit, she circled my entrance and paused. One of her favorite things to do was to make me ask for it. The first time she dug her heels in and required that I beg before giving me anything else, we had hovered in a stale mate for so long we both almost combusted. In the end, I gave in and begged. The subsequent orgasm made it completely worth the humiliation of groveling. Months ago, I surrendered any reluctance toward asking, but still put on a show because it revved her up more and increased the pleasure of my release. I pushed up, attempting to urge her fingers inside of me, but she countered my movements. A breathy question tickled my ear, causing an intense shudder throughout my blazing body, "What do you want, your majesty?"
A long groan tore from my throat as she applied more pressure, but refused to enter me. "Emma..." I sighed, unable to add more as her thumb pressed directly on my engorged nub. "Just do it." I finally ground out.
Emma shook her head against my neck, "Not good enough. What. Do. You. Want.?" Each word was punctuated with a nip to my neck or collarbone. She also knew that I hated that she asked what I wanted, not what I needed. By using 'want' instead of 'need' she highlighted my desire to be there with her, my choice. We both knew that our 'meetings' weren't just about scratching an itch, we could do that with anyone. We wanted the specific connection and result that only the other could offer. But, we adamantly shunned that fact, only alluding to it in those specific moments where diction relayed a hidden message.
My hands flexed on her hips as she sped up her thumb, drawing vigorous designs over and around it. Her digits at my opening prodded and swirled, but never ventured further in. With the muscles in my abdomen tensing and my core quivering, I rapidly approached the edge of bliss, but needed more, and desperately wanted her inside of me when I fell over. Growling, I sharply twisted my head, unapologetically biting her earlobe as I thrust into her fingers. When I released her lobe, I snarled in her ear, punctuating each word, "I want you to bury your fingers inside of me over and over until I come harder than ever before. Is there anything unclear about that, Sheriff?"
The answer arrived in two swift fingers plunging knuckle deep into my eager, slick heat. I moaned raggedly, and she wasted no time in setting a blistering pace. Her rhythm told me she intended to force a quick, aggressive climax from me, and I had no complaints. Fighting and orgasms, that's what we excelled at. Only a minute had passed when I felt the sweltering contractions that promised a fiercely satisfying climax. Knowing my body frighteningly well, she curled her fingers at precisely the right moment, shoving me over the edge. My body quaked and contorted in searing pleasure. Nearly unbearable heat consumed me and I clawed at her back, searching for an anchor. Actually, I loved her back. The muscles were smooth and firm, and her skin silky. I commonly marked long trails from my fingernails as I came, and then soothed my palms over them as I recovered. As my body relaxed under her weight, she pulled her fingers free and lazily cleaned them with her tongue. The sight coaxed another mini orgasm from my buzzing body, and I trembled happily as she smirked.
Though my legs shook mildly, I couldn't wait to wipe the smug expression off her face. Honestly, she had ever right to be smug, but no amount of torture or pleasure could make me admit it. I gripped her waist and stood unsteadily, swiftly transferring her off of my lap, and spun to slam her against the window behind us. Though she had shed her top, her jeans remained, and that would not do. I crushed my lips to hers and claimed her mouth as mine while nimbly undoing the button on her jeans. Grasping her pants and purple boy shorts, I yanked them off in one fluid movement. It had taken me a while, but I had finally mastered the art of quickly removing her ridiculously tight jeans. Emma tried to push me back to the desk while I was preoccupied with her pants, but I resisted and shoved her harshly to the window sill. Her back was flush with the cold panes, and her ass perched on the broad sill. Returning to her mouth, I kneaded her breast and nestled my hips between her parted legs.
When we separated for breath, she gasped, "R-gina...th-the wind-ow-" Again, she attempted to move back into the room, bracing her hands on my shoulders and pushing.
I shook my head, "Stay."
"But, anyone c-could-"
Twisting her peaked bud roughly, I grunted, "I don't care. Stay put, or I'll stop."
Her heightened arousal and my ambitious work on her nipple halted all protests, and she threaded her fingers through my hair, scratching my scalp. I knew it was unlikely that anyone would see the bare form of the savior pressed against the mayor's window, as the particular window faced my private courtyard. Yet, the possibility of someone seeing made it so much better. Using my free hand, I brushed my fingers between her legs as I pinched her nipple again.
"Shhhhittt, 'Gina, I'm gonna-" She gasped into my mouth as our tongues twisted around each other's.
I immediately removed my hands from her body. "Not yet. I want to taste you come."
Emma groaned loudly and braced her hands on the window sill. Apparently, my words didn't help her calm down enough to wait for me. I could see the strain in her expression and rigidness of her body as she fought off the release that beaconed her. With a speed I would deny to anyone that asked, I fell to my knees and shoved my face between her thighs. A few firm, broad strokes of my tongue through her drenched center and she cried out while pushing hard into my face. Acting as if I would bring her down gently, I lapped at the thick liquid pooling at her core. However, as her body began to relax, I suddenly jammed my tongue as far in as I could and swiped my thumb over her clit rapidly. Slamming her head back into the glass, she instantly came again, arching and squirming, and tugging at my hair. Smirking into her twitching thighs and pulsing core, I slowly licked every inch of her until she panted for me to stop.
Raising to my feet, I collapsed back into my office chair. I watched with satisfaction as the naked sheriff recuperated enough to push herself away from the window. A patch of condensation gathered where her heated back had met the cool glass during our tryst. As she retrieved her clothes and began to redress, a very tiny, almost un-noticeable voice whispered that I really enjoyed watching her in the moments after I ravished her, and the reason behind it might not have been entirely sexual.
A fully clothed saviour grinned at me, "Well, Madam Mayor, was there anything else you needed?"
"No, I believe that will be all, Sheriff." As she nodded and moved to leave, I suddenly reached up and punched her in the arm.
"Ow! What the hell was that for?!" She rubbed her arm, glaring daggers at me. The combination of the post-orgasm haze and the fury coming from her green orbs caused me to pause in amusement, the look too endearing dismiss without savoring first.
"You, more than anyone, should recognize a symbol of hope when you see one." I snapped back lightly, having found my voice again.
It took a few seconds, but understanding finally cleared the anger from her face. She turned toward the door, "Knight to O-2."
Furrowing my brows, I sniped, "There's no 'O' in chess, Miss Swan."
She spun to face me, continuing her path by walking backward, "Ah, but, there were two for the Knight in the Queen's office, your majesty." With two fingers she offered a half wave and a cheeky grin, then swung the door closed behind her.
We might not have been playing the same game, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't be long before my chess pieces were punching the hell out of each other until someone's head popped off. At least, then, we'd be on the same page and playing the same game. And, then? Well, then, anything was possible.
AN: I don't know if that all made any sense, but I had fun writing it, regardless. Let me know what you thought and have a wonderful holiday!
