Author's Notes: This is in response to a domestic prompt by queeniekingdoms on tumblr! Thank you for the prompt, lovely. I'm still looking at the other part, which I plan to write as a separate story. As it was, there were several ways my mind went with this prompt, so don't be surprised if I end up writing a slightly different take on that sometime in the near future. I did enjoy getting to write a sweet moment between them.
TRIGGER WARNING: There are brief, nondescriptive mentions of a character being tortured in the background.
Domesticity
Cruella groaned from her place on the shared bed. Everything about this new life in Storybrooke was so small.
The town was small, the minds of the people were small, the liquor supply was terrifyingly small, and even Rumplestiltskin's fucking cabin was too damn small.
Small, small, small, small, small. Bleck, it made her ill.
Cruella loved all things big, dramatic, and extravagant with an extra coating of bold gestures just in case. She was absolutely certain if she died right then, even her loss would be considered too miniscule an event to bother with to everyone else.
A pain was beginning to take root in the space behind her eyes, a sure sign of a headache beginning to form from all the stress and screaming. It would be a small one, she was certain, which almost only served to further her annoyance. Even the inconveniences in her life couldn't seem to steal the show these days.
Cruella whimpered to herself and tried to get more comfortable on the bed; her fur coat was acting as a shield around her, making her feel big in the diminutive area on the bed. The others were still in another part of the cabin, slowly torturing that wooden man for information. Cruella had grown bored after the first several hours and retreated to her quarters.
His screams were making her headache worse. She looked to the end-table for a quick cure, but it seemed her bottle of gin had run dry at some point the evening before. What a pity, it would be so difficult to find a replacement bottle of equal or greater refinement within the walls of Storybrooke.
Cruella decided her headache was becoming too pressing to ignore, so she attempted the next best thing she could think of and closed her eyes. White and black hair mingled against her pillow in what she was sure would be a perfect mess later on, but something about this small little town full of small little minds made Cruella worry in smaller amounts about what she typically would have, at one point in her life, considered an absolute travesty.
She heard a lasting scream from the other room, followed by clicking heels in her direction. Cruella's eyes remained closed even as the door creaked open and the steps continued inside. She knew the sounds and the smell of the other woman's heavy sea breeze perfume almost better than her own.
"Ursula, dahling, be a dear and leave the lights off," she said with a groan.
The familiar chuckle met her ears, miraculously one of the few sounds she thought her head would be able to tolerate at this point, and it compelled Cruella to open her eyes to see for herself just what she was missing.
Ursula was standing in the doorway, regarding her curiously. She had left the lights off as requested, but the light from the hallway was still shinning in and illuminating her gorgeous brown skin to a perfect warm-feeling glow. It spread through her highlighted hair to form an almost halo around her, and had Cruella not seen the woman kill with her own eyes, she would have been certain she was seeing nothing more than a woman full of heart and innocence standing right before her on a pedestal.
Cruella grimaced at her own thoughts for their inadequately cheesy and uncouth quality. Sometimes she hated her own disposition as she was without her gin.
"Don't tell me the infamous Ms. De Vil has a hangover?" Ursula asked.
Cruella smirked to herself as she detected a hint of concern hidden under the sarcastic inquiry.
"You know better than anyone else how impossible a feat that would be for any drink to accomplish against me. No, dahling, I'm afraid that insipid man's screaming has given me a bit of a headache." Cruella pouted for added effect.
"I'm well aware," Ursula agreed. "Luckily, you can rest for a while now. He finally passed out, so we won't be getting anything out of him for the next few hours, at least."
"Wonderful," Cruella moaned. Already she could feel herself relaxing.
Ursula pulled off her own boots and sat on the other side of their shared bed. She smiled down at Cruella, beaming her pearly whites through dark lips in a way that had always been reserved just for her. Cruella closed her eyes just as the soft lips pressed against her throbbing forehead so gently she could only whimper in response.
"I had been hoping we could have a little fun together, but I think you seem out for the count. Why don't we get you out of those leather pants, though? I know you'll deny it, Cru, but those are not comfortable," Ursula urged.
"I thought you just said I was down for the count, but now you want in my pants?" Cruella asked, a suggestive lilt to her tone.
All she ever wanted, above everything—even gin—was to have wild passionate sex with her lover. Now, however, Cruella had to admit that she wasn't quite sure she had the energy. Torturing was quite an exhaustive workout, and she hadn't stretched her abilities that way in years.
"Very funny." She didn't open her eyes to look, but Cruella could practically hear the eye rolling action that was surely taking place beside her. "Now seriously, come on."
She felt a hand at her hip, lightly tugging on her waistband as if to ease Cruella into action.
"I don't want to," Cruella said petulantly. "You're the one with tentacles, dahling. Put them to use for once."
If Ursula was at all affected by the quip, she didn't let on. Instead, the woman seemed to actually like her idea for once, and soon she felt the cool slithering limbs sliding along between her legs until the second-skin of leather was completely removed; Cruella needed to put in no more effort than the few necessary seconds of lifting her hips from the mattress.
"Thank you, my dahling," she said with a deep, throaty sigh of relief.
When she heard nothing in response, Cruella peeled her eyes open and peeked out to see what her lover was doing. It was then, with a naughty little smirk, that Cruella recalled her choice to forgo any undergarments in her rush to dress that morning, fearing any lines that might show through the tight material of her pants.
Ursula was staring at her exposed parts, enraptured and tempted. In the darkness of the room, Cruella couldn't make out the exact expression on her love's face, but the sound of heavy breathing told her it was one of strong desire.
One she wished desperately that she could fulfill right then and there, and for a moment felt tempted to go for despite her own temporary limitations.
"See something you like?" Cruella asked devilishly.
Ursula growled and met her gaze. "Must you always be such a tease? I'm trying to behave here," she said pointedly.
Cruella pouted. "Oh, I'm sorry, my love, you've been doing such a wonderful job, I promise. I'm far too out of sorts, otherwise I would have warned you first."
Ursula sighed. "It's fine. You would think after all these years, I'd be able to see your cunt and not completely lose myself in desire."
"It is a very nice cunt."
She definitely saw Ursula roll her eyes this time.
"I'm so glad you have so much confidence in yourself."
"There's much for me to have confidence in, you know."
Ursula looked her up and down in appraisal. "Oh, I am well aware of that fact."
Her girlfriend crawled up the bed beside her and wrapped a hand around the edge of the comforter. "Come on, lift your beautiful cunt again so I can get the covers over you. If we can't have any fun, the least you can do is appease me with some snuggles."
"God, you're such a sap. Really, Ursula dahling, there's nothing very sexy about snuggles."
"There's no one watching, and I know you love them just as much, Cru. Now come on, join me in our very non-sexy party beneath the covers."
Even as she spoke, Ursula was already up against her with six different limbs securing Cruella comfortably in place. Resigned to her fate, and just a little more eager than she was willing to admit that she did enjoy snuggling with the other woman on occasion, Cruella sighed and allowed Usrula to ease her head onto her ample chest.
She hummed contently as Ursula's fingers began running through her hair in gentle soothing patterns. When she awoke, Cruella was certain she would want to forget this moment of sweetness. It was too risky for them to behave in such a way with one another, to act so domestic. That had never been their thing, and she knew it could never be permanent until they both were willing to give up their extreme ways.
But for now, as the fingers carefully played magic upon Cruella's discomfort, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep in the arms of her lover as if everything else was right, easy, and perhaps even smaller.