Chapter VII: Soft and Silky
A/N: A bit of fluff involving Mario Kart, which, if you don't know, is pretty much the sweetest game ever. Followed by things that are far less fluffy. Hope you enjoy.
~M
Shaking his head a little sheepishly, Henry laughed. "I don't have any shooting games. But I do have Mario Kart?" he offered, holding out the Wii Wheel.
Emma shook herself mentally, trying with limited success to erase what had happened in the kitchen from her mind, and reached out to take it. "Awesome," she managed a grin. "That'll definitely work."
Henry just beamed back at her, and the innocence, the happiness, the complete and utter joy that was radiated in that smile was enough to make Emma's heart flutter for reasons entirely different those that had caused its earlier thumping. She was speechless for a second, and it occurred to her to wonder how the hell one person's body could ever hope to handle so much emotional overload in one night. She tried to hide the tumult in her head by taking a second to shrug off her red jacket and leave it draped over the couch, and then she bent to remove her boots.
When that was done, Henry was loading the game, and it came time for Emma to wrench her thoughts away and look at the screen, where animated versions of Henry and herself were being selected.
Emma felt her heart go at it again. "You made me a Mii?"
Beside her, her son just shrugged, the top of his iron man pajamas raising a bit as he did. "Well, yeah. I was gonna wait and let you do it, but you and Mom took so long doing dishes I just... what?" He'd glanced over at her, and must have seen some glimmer of how touched she felt through her eyes.
Blinking it away, Emma just shook her head, giving another smile. "Nothing, I just... thanks, kid."
Not entirely buying it, Henry looked at her, a little perplexed, and then grinned impishly as his thumb selected 'versus' mode. "...Okay. Well, I'm gonna cream you, so you're welcome."
And that was really all it took for Emma's competitive streak to come flaring back to life with a vengeance. "Oh, you think so, kid?" She elbowed him playfully. "We'll see about that."
Another beaming smile, and then it was time to choose their characters. Henry did so almost instantly, his fingers hitting the controls so fast that it must have mostly been muscle memory. "Aha!" said the character on the screen.
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Guess you always pick Mario, huh?"
"Well, duh," Henry rolled his eyes. "He's the hero. Who're you gonna pick?" he grinned. "Princess Peach?"
"Uh, no." Emma pulled a face, staring in horror at the crowned blonde in all pink. Glancing over all the options, she made her selection and then smirked. A low growling roar came afterward.
Henry's eyes widened. "...Bowser? But he's the bad guy!"
"He's got a pretty sweet car, kid."
Considering this for a moment, Henry paused before moving to the next field of selection. "Whatever," he grinned. "You're gonna need all the help you can get."
Emma just laughed. "Bring it on, short stuff."
At the end of the first round, with the animated Bowser jumping up and down on the first place pedestal, Henry begrudgingly admitted that he did have a pretty cool car. After Henry won the round after that, he didn't choose Mario.
The next few hours were a blur of banana peels, mushrooms, and laughter. Their sixth round of racing had to be declared a tie, since the race itself was paused for an impromptu tickling battle. No one could really officially say who won, since they both wound up falling off the couch in a fit of giggles.
It was while she was trying to catch her breath that Emma happened to notice the time. Nine-thirty. The laughter died in her throat, replaced by a feeling far lower, and far more ominous. She stood up immediately. "Crap, Henry! It's past your bedtime! Your mom's gonna kill me!"
Looking confused, Henry slowly rose from the floor. "What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that your Mom was pretty insistent you be in bed by nine-fifteen!" she hissed, fumbling to turn off both TV and Wii and set the controllers in their assigned spots. Of course they had specific spots. Heaven forbid anything ever be out of place in Regina's house. Like her. Emma resisted the urge to shiver. "Come on, kid! Up the stairs, brush your teeth, go!"
"Okay, okay," Henry grumbled, slowly making his way to the bottom of the stairs.
Emma glared at his sluggishness. "You wanna go back to only seeing me through binoculars and talking to a walkie-talkie?" She couldn't help it, the wave of desire that swept over her at the mere mention of that thing. Regina had destroyed any hope she had of ever using it again.
"No!" Henry declared adamantly.
"Then we have to play by your Mom's rules for a while. Which means you, bed, now!"
When put like that... Henry raced the rest of the way up the stairs, and it was a good thing his shoes were long since off, or he probably would have lost one. He skidded into the bathroom in his socks, brushed his teeth in record (but thorough) time, and then raced into his room.
Not entirely sure whether she should follow and head upstairs yet or not, Emma still breathed a sigh of relief, quickly retracted when Henry's head popped back out. "You gonna come tuck me in?" he called down the stairs hopefully.
She couldn't help it; she smiled at his enthusiasm. "Yeah, kid. I'd love to." She ascended the steps a lot less rapidly than Henry did, a swell of nervousness settling into her stomach as each minute of the clock clicked closer to... her appointment.
As she rounded the bannister, she couldn't help but glance in the directions of Regina's room. The door was open, the bed made, the room looking soft and inviting. And empty.
Her brow furrowed, and she entered her son's room. "Where'd your Mom get to?"
"I dunno," Henry shrugged, and it was obvious he didn't really care.
Emma's teeth worried at her lower lip. It hadn't seemed odd at the time, but really, with Regina being such a control freak, it was surprising that she hadn't come to make sure Henry was in bed on time. For that matter, why hadn't Regina come to check on them at all during the games? They'd certainly been making enough noise.
She was roused from her troubling thought pattern by her son shaking her arm.
"Hey, Emma. Read me a story."
Blinking, her brow crossed again, though this time it was more in confusion. "Aren't you kinda old for that? And no, by the way. It's already past your bedtime."
Henry frowned. "You said Mom said I had to be 'in bed' by nine-fifteen. Did she say what time I actually had to be asleep?"
"Well, no, but-"
"So... I'm in bed. Read me a story."
Emma had to stifle a chuckle. He was so obviously her kid. Giving an overly-dramatic sigh, she caved. "Okay, fine. But no fairy tales."
One decidedly long chapter of Harry Potter later, Henry was well on his was to dreamland, and Emma was well on hers to an anxiety attack. It was hell on the nerves, counting the minutes, knowing that once the clock struck ten she had another ...obligation. As she closed the book and brushed a few stray hairs out of her son's face, Emma had to wonder if she was really up for this. Whatever 'this' was, between her and Regina.
She could just sneak down the stairs, get back into her car and drive away without seeing Regina again this evening. But that would undoubtedly piss the mayor off to the point she'd forbid her from seeing Henry again, at the very least. Or try to frame her for murder or something at the worst. And there was no way, she told herself, she could keep Henry in her life without running into Regina.
And there was the slight problem that her body, at least, really, really wanted to stay. Running wouldn't resolve the damned sexual tension that lay between them.
Tugging a hand through her hair with a sigh, Emma stood, put the book on Henry's bedside table, and left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. She glanced at the clock in the hall. Nine fifty-seven.
With slightly unsteady steps, she moved through the hall, the distance seeming to grow longer with each step, until finally, she reached the threshold of the doorway and peeked inside Regina's room. Still empty.
The thought crossed her mind that this could be Regina's idea of payback. Emma had come for her 'appointment' far too early, so maybe as punishment she was going to make her wait? A growl built in the back of the sheriff's throat. That would be so, so like Regina. Giving full voice to her frustrated growl, Emma entered the room, shivering slightly as bare feet left the hall runner and came into contact with the cold wood of the floor.
With an exaggerated huff of air through her nose, she sat on the edge of the bed and waited. The hall clock began to chime. Emma almost laughed. She was here, in Regina's bed, right on time. So where the hell was Regina?
Ten strokes later, and the echoes of the chime receded through the otherwise empty house. Emma groaned, and fell back the bed.
Which, of course, is when the door to the room clicked shut, and a smug voice was clearly audible: "You're on time. How refreshing."
Startled and sitting up quickly, Emma schooled her features to glare at the older woman, taking in the coat, the purse, the bag of... something in her hand. "Where were you?"
Regina turned away, setting her purse and keys on the stand beside the door that was there specifically to hold them. "I had an errand to run." The bag, she kept in her hand.
"So you just left me alone with your kid without saying anything?" Emma wasn't entirely sure why she was so angry at the idea. But something about the fact that Regina has just... left completely galled her.
Regina only laughed a little, moving to her enormous closet and hanging up her coat with a sort of bland indifference to Emma's presence in her room. "You seemed pretty insistent that he was your son, too, Miss Swan. Are you saying you're incapable of watching him for a few hours?"
"Of course not, but-"
"Isn't time with Henry exactly what you wanted?" Regina stepped out of her heels.
"Well, yeah, but-"
"Then I don't see a problem." She smiled, setting the bag down at the foot of the bed, and for the first time, turned her full attention to the woman currently occupying her bed. She approached slowly, predatory in her steps, eyes raking over Emma as if she were something to be devoured.
Emma shivered, and then cursed herself for doing it. Regina noticed, of course, and grinned, placing her arms to either side of Emma's legs, leaning over her on the bed. Warm breath exhaled out, leaving the scent of apples in its wake, overwhelmingly sweet. And intoxicating.
Wetting suddenly dry lips, Emma found herself staring into Regina's eyes, pupils slowly expanding. She almost felt like she could drown in them.
She could drown in them, she realized. And it was exactly what Regina wanted her to do.
She shook her head, backing herself away. "We're not going to do this anymore."
That cat's paw smile followed, Regina climbing onto the bed on all fours as Emma retreated. Her lips came within touching distance of the Sheriff, though Regina's hands remained on the bed. "Do what, dear?" Regina more purred than spoke, using that warm, sexy liquid honey voice that, had she been standing, would have made Emma's knees promptly turn to jelly.
"This," Emma clarified. "This... thing when you get your way all the time. We're not doing it anymore."
Regina's eyes darkened considerably, her whole posture shifted. The sex kitten was gone, replaced by something far angrier, far darker. Far more dangerous.
And still, Emma realized with a growing sense of dread, as sexy as hell. She curled her legs beneath her, almost defensively.
"You don't think so?" Regina echoed.
"No. I'm sure of it."
The darker woman laughed, finally approaching and leaning forward over Emma. Her hand raised, fingertips ghosting over the curve of Emma's cheek before the Sheriff snapped her head back. "And yet here you are, in my bed, waiting for me." Regina's amusement was palpable. "All because I told you to be. What part of that, exactly, is you making sure I don't get my way?"
"The part where I do this." And she launched herself at the older woman, grabbing Regina's wrists in her hands and latching her legs around her middle. Stunned and off-guard, Regina found herself rolled, pinned to the bed with an extremely satisfying "oof!" of surprise and pain.
It was one of the best things Emma had heard in days.
"What the hell do you think you're-" Regina's protest was interrupted by Emma's lips crashing into hers. The kiss was all fury- lips and teeth clacking together ominously. Regina struggled, bucking against the Sheriff, her lips fervently trying to close as Emma's tongue demanded entry.
It was no use. Emma was too persistent, her mouth too demanding to deny. Slowly, Regina found herself struggling less, accommodating more, until finally she answered the kiss with a hunger to rival Emma's own. The sheriff groaned into her lips as she finally broke down, pressing her body along the full length of Regina's, wanting to feel every curve and swell beneath her own.
Somehow her leg ended up pressed between both of Regina's, and she thrust it forwards, meeting the apex of the older woman's thighs and rocking against it. Regina moaned, then, spreading her legs wider before she could think better of it, eager for more contact.
Emma chuckled.
Lack of oxygen finally forced them apart, and when Emma finally pulled back just a little, it was her eyes that were dark with lust. Her lips that Regina couldn't seem to take her eyes off.
But that didn't stop her from smiling, shaking her wrists in token protest of her semi restraint. "...You enjoy having me pinned against things, don't you, Miss Swan?"
"Emma!" the blonde hissed with a pointed thrust of her thigh.
Regina bit back another moan, her eyelids fluttering and teeth sinking into her own lower lip. "Fine," she conceded raggedly. "Emma. Answer the question."
"I enjoy anything that makes you lose some of your precious control," she growled in response, their noses touching as she menaced forward. She was so goddamn tired of Regina's smugness. Regina's bitchy, holier-than-thou attitude. But mostly, she was tired of the way Regina always seemed to win.
"You want me to lose control?" Regina challenged, arching froward to run her tongue up the blonde's cheek before ending at her ear. "You want me reduced to whimpers and sobs and pleading as I writhe underneath you?"
Emma had to shut her eyes from the mental image of that. The power behind her grip lessened, a massive quake of need shuddering its way through her body, forcing out a strangled gasp. "Yes," she whispered. Her eyes snapped open, and she released one of Regina's wrists, leaving her forearm free to jam directly underneath the older woman's chin, pressing her neck into the bed. "Yes, I want that!" she growled. Had she not been so tightly wound, Emma may well have taken a step back then. And in some tiny corner of her mind, she was cringing. Her own ferocity was a little frightening to her.
But Regina did not look scared. She was smiling. And with an answering low growl, Regina said something Emma had never expected her to say. Something that quieted that tiny voice, and made it virtually impossible for her to back down.
"Then take it."
