So I may have realized that I couldn't leave that one as a oneshot. So one more instalment and a kick up in the rating, and there you have it. Enjoy!
"Unlike Hook, I am not scared of you."
"Maybe you should be, Your Majesty."
"Maybe you should be, too, Swan."
Seconds of silence turn into minutes. Minutes in which their eyes are still fixed on the other's, challenging the other to look away first, wondering if evil beats darkness, or if it is the other way around.
The soft cracks that come from the magic swirling around them start to grow louder, gradually occupying all the space of the room, making it more difficult to breathe, to speak, to move.
Regina is not sure when her chest starts moving at a faster pace, her breath finding Emma's skin, the minuscule particles probably the one warm element in the house.
It is that warmth that seems to pull Emma in. She is not used to it, not anymore, not like this. Regina takes one menacing step closer, forcing Emma to either allow their bodies to touch or step back. She chooses the latter. And it is the most satisfying moment for the Evil Queen.
I win.
Before her smug grin can even form, though, it is the Dark One herself who moves, taking not just one step, but two, three, four, in quick succession. Taken by surprise, Regina can do little but step back each time. That is, until she feels her back hitting something, and Emma's hands are on each side of her, effectively pinning her against the wall.
The defiance in Regina's eyes never falters, her lips turn upward, daring the other woman to move closer.
What she did not expect was for Emma to actually do it.
She doesn't have time to react before bruising lips find hers. And it is raw and rough and just so wrong.
Yet, so right. Because it only takes a second for Regina to realize that she is kissing back. That she has been ever since their lips touched.
Emma wastes no time in bringing her hands down to Regina's waist, and, when they touch the tiny spot of skin that is currently uncovered by the brunette's movements, she hears a gasp. Whether it is one of surprise or hesitation, she doesn't know. What she does know is who she is dealing with. She knows that, were Regina to want to truly stop her, she would be flying halfway across the room by now.
So she confidently digs her fingers more firmly into the skin, feeling it, breathing it as she keeps their lips connected – not even the darkness is more enticing right now than those lips – and starts to move upwards, bringing Regina's shirt up as well.
It is surprisingly slow, especially considering how hungry and urgent the kisses are. It is perhaps the kisses themselves that have a way of grounding Emma, and even though she feels herself giving in to every single impulse right now, she has also never felt more like Emma than she does in this moment.
The feeling becomes even stronger when Regina's hands move up her back, tangling themselves into her hair and pulling her impossibly closer.
Emma's hands explore the woman before her, wanting to touch, memorize and learn every curve. She allows her fingers to move around Regina's breasts, getting close enough but never touching, a victorious smirk spreading across her face when it is the brunette's hands that reach out for hers, guiding her there.
A soft squeeze of Regina's right breast earns a moan. A trail of kisses down the woman's throat earns another.
Yes, she is learning well.
Regina doesn't speak. She doesn't have to. Instead, she lets her body react, with gasps, moans, shivers. What surprises her is not as much how free she feels, but the sounds coming from the other woman too, at her touches and kisses.
The second time Emma reaches out for her breasts, Regina herself takes off her top, allowing for full access. And Emma wastes no time in breaking their kiss and bringing her mouth lower.
It is heaven when those lips touch each nipple in turn, and her hands start to travel down, slipping underneath Emma's tight pants, still above her underwear, just to apply some pressure.
And oh, is it satisfying to make the Dark One moan that loudly, she wonders to herself with a grin. It makes her want to find new ways to do so. She lets her fingers tease just a little longer.
Emma is so lost in all the sensations that she is caught by surprise when Regina takes an unexpected step forward. She nearly loses her balance, but the brunette is there to catch her and keep her moving.
The tables have turned. They both think. Neither really cares.
Before she knows it, Emma is falling to the couch and her pants and underwear are gone. She smirks and grabs the back of Regina's neck, bringing their bodies closer again. And when Regina starts to tease her clit before swiftly pushing one finger inside her, she nearly screams, biting lightly on the woman's lower lip.
It is instinct, desire, longing, and many, so many other feelings that she doesn't dare to name. It is not the time nor place for the most complicated ones.
All she can see and feel is Regina, on top of her, all over her, inside her.
When her gasps grow heavier, Regina's kisses grow softer, just for a moment, just so that their eyes can meet – probably for the first time ever since their lips did – and she can whisper: "Are you ok?" She thinks she sees something different in the younger woman. Her eyes are softer and her hair suddenly looks less white. It looks blonde just as it did before… before she sacrificed herself. For me.
Emma can only nod in response. She is more than ok. And the power of her release only goes to prove that point.
As her heavy breathing starts to slow down, Regina pulls her hand away, but leaves it there, caressing Emma's thighs until the woman comes down from her orgasm.
"Yes, I am more than ok," Emma finally speaks, turning them around so that she is on top. She teases Regina once more, slipping her hand over her underwear, but the brunette is having none of it.
A forceful tug, and one of them – they aren't sure who, and it matters very little – resumes removing the rest of the clothes, and Emma's hand spreads over Regina's center, applying pressure to then start moving up and down, feeling her until a subtle nod tells her to go on.
Then she is inside, moving in and out, slow at first until the brunette's body starts to move with her, urging her to go quicker. And she is so tight and simply intoxicating. Her breaths, her moans. Emma increases her pace and it doesn't take long before Regina comes undone, holding onto her as if her life depends on it.
And Emma never lets go. She won't let go unless Regina wants her to.
Some of Emma's hair is loose and messy now. And blonde. It can't be.
Their lips meet again, because their eyes can't. Not after this. Not when the desire is sated and the spell dissipates, and they are both forced to remember there is a world outside. There are people. Their people. There is life and there are complications and doubts and an overwhelming myriad of reasons as to why this is a very bad idea.
As if reading her mind, Emma pulls away first, pushing Regina away from her with enough – and surprising – gentleness so that she doesn't fall of the couch, but gets out of it on her own. "You should go," her voice is cold, but, once again, the little break on her words betrays her true feelings.
"I agree," Regina imitates the tone, a little more successful in hiding the many cracks on the walls she has so carefully built around herself for the past months. Her lie doesn't show through. She simply can't let it.
And Emma buys into the lie. It is what makes her eyes grow hollow again, and her hair go white – certainly just a trick of light from the poorly lit house – and with another easy snap of her fingers, they are both fully dressed and Regina is out of the door faster than Emma can reach for the still half full – or is it half empty now? – glass of whisky and throw it against the wall.
She can see Regina's figure retreating on the street, not once looking back, and thinks of the woman's previous words. Maybe she was right. Maybe Emma should be afraid of her.
Just not for the reasons she would have thought of.