Chapter 2 is finally here! Thank you for sticking around and bearing with me. I've had some personal stuff going on and all that, but here's this. (I feel like I'm apologising constantly for not writing. ?)
Thanks to a kind reviewer on AO3, this has been extended to three chapters (as long as all goes to plan.) Yay \o/
I'm not entirely sold on this but if I don't post it now, it's just going to sit around in my Documents whilst I proofread it over and over again, so I'm just gonna go ahead and do it. Feedback is really cool, so tell me what you liked and didn't like!
Also, for the sake of this story, let's say the dagger works on intent - if the person holding the dagger isn't focusing on controlling the Dark One, it doesn't work. The less focus there is, the less magic forces the DO to obey. And something about holding the dagger up vs holding it by your side. Forgive me for sinking to OUAT levels of fuzzy logic, but I really didn't want to blur the lines between consent and magical coercion. In my mind, both Regina and Emma are fully consenting here, despite the power play, and I sincerely apologise if it comes across any other way.
Warnings: Swearing, roughness, explicit smut, a vague D/s dynamic, very brief throat-grasping, dirty talk, and orgasm denial. The sort of thing that renders you unable to look your mother in the eye.
Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT.
"Where do you want me, other than gone?" Emma asks. She's willing to take a more submissive role if it means she gets to stay because even if this is about power and forcing Regina to admit what she wants, she's quite enjoying the other things too.
The brunette swallows and inhales. She wasn't expecting to be practically handed the control, but it's happening. Her resolve weakens. Raising the dagger higher, she orders the Dark One in a shaking but resolute voice. "I want you on your knees."
The Dark One grins, something like excitement flashing in her eyes, and lowers herself to the carpeted floor before the woman who suddenly seems every bit the queen she once was. "That's more like it," the blonde hums, staring up at the brunette from her place at her feet. Her eyes appear more human now, closer to their usual vibrant colour rather than the offish green of the Dark One, and containing more emotion. It appears that this is largely Emma talking rather than the Dark One that inhabits her body, and that alone is enough to leave Regina breathless. "What else?"
"I need your mouth," Regina husks, completely overcome by lust. The dagger is lower now, the brunette's arms becoming increasingly limp; when she utters these words, barely any magic tugs at the Dark One and forces her into submission. Emma could easily overcome the magic and go against Regina's will if she wanted to, but she doesn't.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Emma complies in a velvety voice. Her fingers latch onto the waistband of Regina's pyjama bottoms and begin to slide them down toned, olive legs. The silk pools at Regina's feet, and she promptly steps out of them and kicks them aside. The wet lace panties are next, and Emma tugs them down eagerly, fingernails grazing Regina's thighs. Then the underwear hits the carpet, joining the pyjama bottoms in the heap of discarded clothing.
"Take that off," the blonde commands, gesturing to the still fully buttoned pyjama shirt. Regina works on the buttons with hands that tremble with anticipation, and finally the garment drops to the floor, leaving the brunette completely bare.
"You look even better like this," Emma says with a grin, drinking in the sight before her; the Evil Queen, butt-naked, wet and glistening and ready, thighs parted and trembling with desire. She can't resist toying with the older woman a little more; "The queen, naked and bare and just waiting–"
"Stop talking," Regina growls, cutting the sheriff off and pushing roughly at her head, directing her to the apex of her parted thighs.
Emma just smirks and begins trailing her tongue over the insides of the brunette's thighs, teasing – always teasing – with the very tip. There's an occasional nip, and electricity shoots through Regina with each one. Her tongue gets closer and closer to where Regina needs her before drifting away again to taunt the brunette just a little more.
Regina's hand rests firmly against the back of Emma's head, keeping her close but not yet demanding more. "Emma," she warns lowly, very aware of the slick arousal that's beginning to spread over her inner thighs. She's aching for the blonde's touch, but she's not above taking matters into her own hands – quite literally – if Emma doesn't deliver soon.
"Patience," Emma just says for the second time that evening, sucking at one spot hard enough to leave a pink mark that will no doubt be a rather impressive shade of purple tomorrow. Satisfied that she's left her mark on Regina, the blonde moves her mouth upwards again. Her tongue trails up soft thighs and laps up the wetness that trickles down the brunette's thighs. She moans at the taste – intoxicating and heady, the perfect balance of tangy and sweet. Something clicks inside her and she craves more, an animalistic and uncontrollable urge. "You taste even better than you smell," Emma groans, tamping down on the urge to completely devour Regina this instant; she's taking this slow, teasing Regina and working her up into a shaking mess of arousal until she begs and begs for release, which means they both have to wait.
Regina whimpers at the blonde's words, and her fingers knot in Emma's hair, tugging slightly. "Then get on with it," she hisses.
Emma chuckles, low and breathy. She licks Regina's thighs clean of arousal, only moving on when she's satisfied she's gleaned all she can from this area. Using two fingers to spread the brunette's folds, she swipes her tongue through the copious wetness she finds there.
The queen's head falls against the wall, mouth open in an obscene moan. She relaxes her grip on the dagger, allowing it to drop to the floor with a dull thud, and her newly free hand joins the other, tangled in soft, golden locks. She's on edge and still sensitive from her first orgasm, and the feel of Emma's tongue, as brief as it is, is just too divine.
Unrelenting, Emma takes another long lick, relishing the sound of the brunette's panting. Her hands settle on Regina's thighs, tightening to hold her in place, and then her tongue flattens against Regina's hard clit, flicking at it three times in quick succession. The brunette's hips buck, pulling back from the touch that's almost too much for her to handle and then moving desperately towards it again.
Two fingers slide through her wetness briefly, collecting it and then moving upwards to smear it carelessly over her toned stomach as a hand journeys up to toy with Regina's breasts. Emma's lithe fingers circle a nipple, rubbing and teasing it until it stands hard and erect. Each touch sends shocks coursing through the queen, and the blonde's tongue continues moving between her thighs, working Regina up to her peak and never letting up.
Emma's attention moves back to her main task, and she circles Regina's entrance with the tip of her warm tongue.
"Emma," the brunette whimpers before she can catch herself. Her hips grind mindlessly down against the blonde's mouth, an attempt to push Emma's tongue inside her. She succeeds in a way, and moans as the tip of the sheriff's tongue enters her briefly, but then Emma is pulling quickly out and her moan is turning into a displeased growl.
"Beg for it," the Dark One orders firmly, voice low and husky with arousal. She pulls away until she's no longer touching Regina, but remains close enough for every word to vibrate torturously against Regina's clit.
This again, this power play. She should have known there would be a price for whatever this thing they're doing is. Regina clamps her mouth shut before it can betray her; she won't beg for this, won't give Emma what she wants. She'll find another way to get her release, be it with Emma or by her own hand.
When given nothing but silence, Emma growls and pushes a forearm against Regina's abdomen, forming a bar of sorts to press her into the wall. Her teeth sink into the brunette's thigh, her tongue swirling over the skin. The former queen whimpers through gritted teeth at the way the nerves beneath Emma's mouth spring to life and electricity fires straight to her sex. It's quite possible she's never been so ridiculously wet, but still she refuses to beg.
"Fuck you," she hisses instead. A moment passes as Regina glares at Emma. Then it clicks inside her slow and frazzled mind that her hands are free and unbound, and in a second, one hand is making its way between her legs. She glares at the blonde defiantly, eyes burning and locked with green ones.
Emma watches raptly as Regina quickly, hungrily circles the bundle of nerves, openly and unashamedly masturbating before the sheriff's very eyes. A sigh of relief slips from the brunette's lips, and she slides two fingers inside herself, hips bucking frantically as she thrusts her fingers. Her head falls against the wall, eyes closing, and a look of pure ecstasy spreads over her face. She's not there yet, but God, she's close.
It's then that the blonde snaps out of it and comes to her senses. Her eyes flash angrily, and with a flick of her wrist, Regina's wrists are bound above her head. Her hips thrust once more before her mind catches up, and she growls deep in her throat. "You bastard." Her voice is full of rage yet trembling with desire.
"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Emma scolds coldly, rising to her feet and glaring at Regina with hard eyes. Her hand settles over the brunette's throat and squeezes just enough to make the woman uncomfortable but not hurt her.
Regina swallows. "You never said I couldn't," she retorts, fingers curling into fists above her head. If she though Emma was annoying before, it's nothing compared to how infuriating she is now.
"Don't get clever." The blonde pushes Regina roughly into the wall by her neck before easing up again.
"You think I'm going to do exactly what you say, saviour?" Regina says with a throaty laugh and a raised brow. "Just like that?"
"You will," Emma says simply. She leans in close enough for her hot breath to hit Regina's ear. "Because I want to fuck you, Regina. I want to fuck you until you're too sensitive to bear anymore," she breathes. Her other hand inches down the older woman's toned torso, fingers trailing over hard nipples for only a second before moving on. "I want to feel you clench around me when you come and I want to taste you when you spill over."
The queen swallows, her chest tight. More wetness pools between her thighs, and she stares straight forward, past the blonde and at the opposite wall, as Emma continues to whisper crude words into her ear.
"I'll lick you so gently and so good, and you won't even know what to do with yourself," Emma continues. "And then? Then I'll lap up every last drop of your sweet essence because you taste so impossibly delicious." Teeth nip the shell of her ear in a way that's not at all gentle but seductive all the same, and Regina lets out a small, shuddering breath.
Then the sheriff is pulling away and looking Regina in the eye again. "I'll give you all of that, Regina."
The brunette can't help but look hopeful even though her mind is screaming at her that this is a trick. She knows what's coming, knows that there's going to be a condition, but the blonde's words are torturous and seductive and too good to ignore. (Regina absently wonders if going dark improves one's vocabulary, since Emma had never been so eloquent as the sheriff and saviour.)
Emma caresses her cheek gently with the back of her hand, reeling her in with the tenderness Regina desires from the saviour. But this is the Dark One, not the saviour, and there's always a price. Everything always has a damn price.
"All you have to do is ask nicely," Emma promises softly – almost sickeningly so – with a sweet, innocent smile.
Regina wants to hit Emma in that moment. She swallows a frustrated whine, and instead allows her head to fall against the wall once more in defeat. God, she wants to tell Emma to just go fuck herself or something along those lines, but the persistent throbbing between her thighs is only escalating, and she knows she's going to give in. Regina wants – no, needs – this too badly, and she hasn't got many options, tied up like this. She's not certain, but she's suspects Emma has enchanted her restraints so that she can't undo them herself. A tentative push with her magic confirms it; the restraints refuse to budge.
"What if I don't?" she hedges.
Emma smirks. "Then I'll leave you here, naked and tied up without your release." She takes a second to think, cocking her head thoughtfully. "Who knows, maybe our dear little son will find you. What would he think if he found his mother – strong, wholesome old Regina – in such a position? Desperate and positively dripping–"
"Stop talking," Regina commands for the second time. Really, she's in no position to be shouting orders, but she can't hear Emma talk about Henry like that, can't imagine his disgust and disappointment if he was to find her like this for even a second.
The Dark One just smirks, watching as a war wages inside the brunette. She's won, Emma knows, even though Regina is still arguing with herself. The mayor won't risk losing her son again, not because of this, especially after all they've been through together. A few small words seem a small price to pay to stop that.
"Fine," Regina grits out, straightening up again and meeting Emma's eye.
"You're going to have to do better than that," the Dark One says, eyes glinting.
Regina huffs, looks away for a second as if to gather herself, and then glares at the other woman. "Fuck me."
"I wasn't aware that you were the one making demands here," Emma throws back. She's smirking – that asshole – no doubt having more than a little bit of fun twisting the fearsome Evil Queen into her delicate, whimpering submissive. "Ask nicely. Tell me what you need."
A flush spreads over Regina's cheeks, and the brunette is suddenly grateful that it's dark in the bedroom. She's certainly no prude, but this is unfamiliar territory for her; even Mal hadn't gone this far.
"I need you to fuck me," Regina says lowly, arousal seeping into her voice.
Emma's eyes wander over Regina's form for a second, contemplating. "Say please."
The former queen bites back an insult. She seems to weigh up her options for a second before finally caving. "Please fuck me," she breathes. Her voice hitches as Emma's still-exploring fingers slide lightly through her wetness once more, teasing and pushing for more. "Please let me come," she whimpers as the blonde's fingertips push at her entrance once more.
"Good girl," Emma praises, that infuriating smirk still plastered on her face. Apparently she finds this whole thing very amusing, and Regina supposes it's to be expected of the woman that had just smirked when threated by the Evil fucking Queen.
Emma lowers herself onto her knees once more. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" She flicks her hand once more, and then Regina's hands are free again; there's no reason for them now that Emma is giving Regina what she wants.
Regina wants to yell at her, wants to summon a fireball and set the blonde alight for making her beg and daring to praise her like a dog or a little girl, but then Emma's tongue is on her again, lapping up fresh arousal before entering the queen with little ceremony.
Curse after curse rolls off Regina's tongue as the blonde thrusts in and out of her with increasing speed. After a minute, Emma's tongue starts to cramp and she pulls out, replacing her tongue with two fingers. A 'come hither' motion inside Regina draws a strangled cry from the woman, and then the blonde's tongue is flicking over her clit again.
The former queen feels utterly overloaded with pleasure, every flick sending shocks of pleasure through her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Emma doesn't even give her time to process her pleasure, her tongue and fingers unrelenting, working together in perfect synch. The blonde senses how close Regina is, feels her thighs tremble and hears the woman's pants turn to needy whimpers and moans, quiet enough so as to not wake their son but audible all the same. At the last moment, Emma's lips close around the brunette's clit, and she sucks hard, fingers still moving inside Regina.
Before Regina knows it, she's coming again, biting down on her own fingers to stop herself from crying out and waking her sleeping son across the hall. She gushes over the blonde's fingers and hand – she hasn't done that in a long time – completely lost in pleasure, and a low, drawn-out moan slips from her lips only to be muffled by her hand.
The last wave of pleasure wracks the brunette's form, and then she falls against the wall once more, utterly exhausted as she comes down from her astounding high. "God," she breathes out shakily, not completely with it yet.
"Not quite," Emma says with a smug smile, pulling back. She's still got that smart-ass sense of humour, even with the Dark One residing in her body, and Regina wants to slap the smirk off her face. Maybe in a minute, when she's recovered.
Jesus.
As the haze of lust clears, she realises what she's just done, and just how naked and disheveled she currently is. The brunette bends to pick her clothes off the floor. "Get out of my house," she says flatly and firmly, voice hoarse.
"Are you sure?" Emma teases. "Because I recall you saying something along those lines not so long ago and later being rather happy I didn't leave." Her eyes rake over Regina once more, watching as the woman pulls her underwear on and slips into the silk pyjama top. She dips down to the floor again, and Emma thinks she's going for the pyjama bottoms, but instead, Regina picks up the dagger.
"I'm sure," Regina promises, eyes burning with defiance and rage despite what has just transpired. "Leave."
The Dark One's eyes darken with anger at being controlled, and she huffs like a petulant child, except that her face looks positively murderous. Then, without further conflict, she twists her hand and disappears in a puff of dark smoke, leaving Regina alone once more.
There's a beat as Regina silently stares at the space where Emma had been, and then she exhales and drops the dagger, burying her face in shaking hands. There are a million questions – more than before – floating around in her mind, ricocheting inside her skull. Some there are no answers to, but others have answers that Regina isn't ready to think about.
Instead, she slips the pyjama bottoms on – because she is Regina Mills and she does things properly – and gets into bed, pulling the sheets around her shoulders and up to her chin. She can still hear Emma's voice, can still feel her fingers on her, and she thinks this is something a shower won't take away. For now, though, she pretends she can't, pretends that everything is fine and that Emma hadn't overpowered her or fucked her or sacrificed herself for her like the complete idiot she is.
Before she falls into a restless sleep, Regina thinks absently that it's not regret that gnaws away at her – definitely not regret – and that is why this is so confusing and uncomfortable.
