The Lover Who Was Always There
"This thing despises me," Regina grumbles. She's careful to keep both Emma and her god forsaken horse at an arm's length, unable to comprehend why her wife would even suggest such a preposterous idea.
Surely enough, she is right as always, because the thing snorts and rears up at her remark - then its hooves stomp the ground with an unforeseen force, making the leaves crumble and huddle aside.
"Calm down, I know she can be a real pain in the ass at times, but I like her either way," the blonde mumbles.
"I can't imagine why."
"I wasn't talking to you," scoffs Emma, stroking the horse's forehead down to its nostrils in a soothing motion. She can't help but grin at Regina's discomfort. Taking her out on a ride must be by far the best way to pass the time - which, it seems, is of infinite supply in fairytales, so much it's obnoxious - she's thought of so far. Well, saying it was her idea would be partially unfair. However, she would never disclose it to Regina that the whole soon-to-be written tale was born in Henry's innocent mind. 'She seems grumpy lately. Take her out for a ride, somewhere no one will disturb you, somewhere she doesn't have to work all the time,' he said. 'It will be fun,' he said. That boy is much more clever than she used to give him credit for.
"This is not a thing, but my lovely furry friend who would approve of some appreciation," Emma continues and Regina isn't sure whether the blonde is mocking her deliberately or just too busy focusing her attention on Regina's future dinner. She hears horse is very tasty, although quite thick. Well, certainly a healthy, agile mare like Applejack wouldn't prove to be too difficult to eat! Suddenly, the mental image of horse crunchy ribs on the round table is replaced by the actual image of Emma jumping up, swinging her leg over the saddle and holding her hand out to her. "Now, hop on," she says, entirely too serious for Regina's liking.
"Not in a million years! It — she wants to kill me!"
"And I realize the heart-warming affection is mutual," Emma mocks, "But she won't do anything as long as I'm up here. And neither will you, for that matter. Now, up."
Regina shakes her head and wraps her arms around herself defensively. "I don't ride with a saddle," she murmurs, eyes fixated on dark mane she would very much like to set on fire and relishes in the knowledge she can do so at any moment until she realizes that her soul be damned, Emma has already forgiven her more than she deserved - no part of her forgiveness was well aimed, in fact - and she really likes that horse.
Emma's concern, on the other hand, is an all too different matter. The blonde tilts her head, letting her outstretched arm drop to her side, oblivious to the skip of a beat Regina's heart makes at that simple action. It is true; she has never seen Regina handle a saddle, but she never asked about her reasons. She supposes she should have, but instead settles for a faint "I got rid of the stirrups for you at least," hoping it will do. Which is all she's ever done, really, just hoping what she does is enough. Hasn't failed her yet, though.
"That'll have to do then," Regina replies and lets herself be pulled up, but Emma can tell from the way the brunette struggles with keeping the corners of her lips down that she's managed to move her. She isn't quite sure why - a saddle is just a saddle and stirrups are just stirrups - but the doubts leave her head when Regina sits in front of her and takes a hold of the reins.
"Where to?"
Emma shamelessly abuses the opportunity to sneak her arms around her lover's waist and pull her impossibly close so that she can rest her forehead on Regina's shoulder. "Away."
"What if we don't find our way back?"
"Is there ever a way back?" Emma inquires with a playful raise of her eyebrows that lets those adorable wrinkles appear on her forehead.
Regina chuckles and sighs as she bids the horse to walk and then gallop right off. The things Emma says, the things Emma does; sometimes it seems wrong for her to question them and sometimes (usually at once) she wonders whether her sanity will pay the price for trusting this person who can't even give her a straight answer. She frowns as they pass the castle gates and ride off into the forest, its autumn coat complementing their brownish attires and Applejack's dark fur quite nicely. In fact, it all fits together nicely, too nicely. The road she's taking leads to a village she used to visit often as a young princess, back when Daniel's parents lived there.
Regina tugs at the reins violently, forcing Applejack to turn to the right at the fork in the road, and orders the horse to run as fast as it possibly can because Emma is right. There is no way back.
It is only who knows how long later, when the endless yellowy sky made of branches becomes a wide expanse, that of a forgotten, lone glade in the middle of the woods, where the sun can warm her skin freely, that she realizes her knuckles are pale as snow and her own nails have dug little holes in her palms. She pulls the reins towards her and Applejack finally slows down to a reasonable pace, very much grateful for this moment of peace.
"Wow, someone's eager to obey my commahnds," Emma whispers in a voice that clearly mocks the 'fairytale' accent she hasn't yet grown accustomed to, lips gently grazing the queen's earlobe, and grins impishly when she hears Regina's breathing hitch.
"I still don't understand why I couldn't just take Nightingale. He can last much longer than this… horse of yours, too."
In response to which Emma's grip on her waist tightens even more for a second before one hand runs up Regina's side, clawing at the decorative buttons on her shirt, bypasses the brunette's arm and lands on her chest, languidly slipping underneath the bothersome piece of clothing, and when shivers run down Regina's spine, it's not because of the slightly chilly temperature. "Because then I wouldn't get to hold you like this and those two would be too busy getting all lovey-dovey-ogly horse-style to carry us anywhere," Emma answers with a gentle squeeze of the other woman's breast.
"Oh, I see what this is about," Regina chokes, the authoritarian tone she planned to put to action betrayed by her own hum of approval. "Dear, we're going to end up soaked to the bone in a lake somewhere if I don't watch where I'm going."
"Uhmmm," Emma mumbles in what sounds very much like dismissal and Regina would express her opinion on that attitude clearly but for reasons that may or may not have something to do with Emma's other hand pulling her shirt up and caressing her stomach, she… What was she going to do, now? "Don't worry, I'm paying attention."
"If you wanted to have me, all you had to do was ask. No need for such nasty plots."
"You'll be grateful for that saddle yet," Emma smiles against the brunette's neck before kissing that one spot behind her ear and — oh no no no no no. Emma Swan does in absolutely no way whatsoever have her wet already. On a horse. In a glade. Far away from anything even remotely resembling a bed (or a chair, table, pillar, tree, bench, throne, dungeon…).
Far, far away…
"Relax, will you? You've been so tense lately that Orpheus's lyre is jealous of you," Emma says, and for a moment it sounds like she's forgotten where she is and what exactly she's doing. "I'm worried about you."
"It's just because of the wedding arrangements and," Regina rambles while Emma's fingers toy with the rim of her leather pants, "I have to figure out a way for Henry's legal standing to assure he will be crowned king and," Emma's fingers disappear behind the now unbuttoned front, "I have a kingdom to — ohhh god," she moans when she feels Emma's hand bury in her curls.
"There's time enough for all of that and I prefer Emma, Your Majesty," the blonde whispers deliberately slowly to let the point sink in while she strokes up and down Regina's abdomen, never quite reaching the goal Regina wants for her to reach, always retreating just half a second too early. "By the way, you should probably let go of the reins," she adds and the brunette happily complies, letting them drop and hang on the pommel, too lost in the warm sensation spreading through her lower body like a lava plume to remind herself she should probably do anything but that.
Breasts pressed firmly against her back, the queen lets out what could be classified as a whimper by someone who doesn't value their head being on their shoulders when Emma's thumb and forefinger close around her nipple and twist it into a hard little nub. "Emma—"
"Do you like this?" The blonde interrupts her mid-groan.
Regina throws her head back, giving Emma a perfect opportunity to pepper kisses on her neck, and so it is done. Emma's movements are perfectly in sync and she more than knows the answer, but she needs to hear it. One kiss, on Regina's clavicle, to soothe. Second, where neck meets shoulder, to mark. Third, where blood bois with excitement in her veins, to seduce into submission.
"Tell me."
Fourth, just below the brunette's ear, to stress a point. At the same moment, the hand currently occupying Regina's pants finally strolls low enough and fingers brush against her clit.
"Emma—" Regina growls in warning, signaling she will not be teased, but Emma has been playing this game long enough to recognize this only means Regina needs to be broken some more.
Fifth, on her earlobe, for the lover Emma knows will never return and the lover she is said to replace.
"Do you like this?"
Her thumb and index finger press down on Regina's clit, making the queen cry out softly like she is nothing more than a common girl, equal to all the other girls Emma has made writhe and moan and come, back home, but whom she has never loved.
Sixth, on the flushed cheek that turns to her, for the lover who was supposed to remain a secret, but the lover who she knows is the true 'wedding arrangements' and 'legal standing' and 'kingdom to run'. The lover who was never been here and the lover who has never left.
"Please," Emma says as she keeps squeezing in a regular rhythm. Regina's hips buck forwards to find nothing but the saddle and unrelenting pressure in just the right spot.
Seventh, on the corner of Regina's mouth while her eyes are closed and her breathing grows labored, for the undivided love in the heart she's giving the brunette in her arms.
"Do you love me?"
The lover who can't leave.
Regina's eyes snap open when she registers the subtle hint of pain in her lover's voice and she wants to face her but goddamnit those skilful fingers on her and she's holding onto Emma's arm for support when Emma's thumb slams down on her clit, and she calls out her lover's name, covering the hand that just made her fall apart with her own so that it may never end, and a flock of birds ascends from a circle of oaks nearby, flying away into oblivion.
It's minutes of heavy breaths and sweat later that Regina finds herself half-sitting, half-lying in Emma's lap, and realization dawns on her. "Emma, I love you with all I am," she whispers just loud enough for her lover to hear but not for the forest to know her secrets. "You know that, don't you?"
A lump in Emma's throat - and a stone in her heart - prevent her from speaking for a minute as she strokes Regina's long obsidian locks and buttons her pants again. The concern tugs at her heartstrings. Regina wants her to know how much she loves her and that alone makes tears well up in Emma's eyes. Her mouth goes dry but she brings herself to say, her voice faltering over such an easy syllable, "Yes."
Eighth, on Regina's temple, for her lover's name that she cried out instead of Emma's, and the stab in her chest is the final straw for the tears to spill. Applejack neighs, but its nothing more than voicing of solidarity.
"I love you too."