A/N: This one is fun! enjoy :) Please review!
"Regina!"
Catching melodic laughter from downstairs, Emma grits her teeth and stalks to her bedroom; slamming the door so hard that it just bounces back open. More laughter at this, and she closes her eyes and takes a sharp breath in through her nose, before wrenching open the top drawer of her dresser and fishing for underwear.
"Oh, why so angry?"
The brunette asks, now stood in the doorway, and the younger woman is certain she must have used her powers to manage this, as she'd not heard a single footstep creep up the stairs.
"Why do you think?! That was fucked up!"
Emma snaps angrily, and the Queen rolls her eyes as she takes a seat on the blonde's bed and watches her yank plain black cotton up under her towel.
"I once beheaded a man for ruining a pleasant symphony accompanying dinner. He came in late and flat. Do you really believe you have it so hard?"
The darker woman enquires silkily, and she raises a brow when rather than quake with fear, the blonde rolls her own eyes and mutters sarcastically
"I'm sorry, did I ask for a resume? I don't care what you did back then, I just don't want you using my mirrors to appease your grossly vouyeristic tendencies."
The Queen stills at this. Her shared memory with her lesser half suggests that she should be unsurprised by the younger woman's response, but the residue of her reign has her completely dumbfounded that the idiot blonde might be so recklessly bold; Snow's kin or not.
"You would do well to watch your tongue."
She warns, enjoying the view when Emma rounds on her with an expression that could kill, and goading lightly
"Oh, desist with that temper. It's not as though I caught you doing anything interesting."
"That's not the point!"
The blonde snaps, although she silently thanks whichever deity might be up there that she'd not decided to relieve her tension in any other way.
Oh right, because this situation just screams for a little self-indulgence the second the opportunity is granted...
Crossing her arms angrily over the folds of the towel providing her modesty, Emma elaborates
"What you did was... It was..."
She frowns as she tries to find the right word- or, rather, a word that might have any effect on the woman sat studying her on the bed- but she falters when the brunette chuckles at her failure to finish strong.
"Evil?"
Regina prompts, savouring the word, and the younger woman sighs and looks away; unwilling to provide the brunette with any more bait than she already has.
"You best get used to it, dear."
The Queen warns in a falsely commiserating tone, before finishing mildly
"I don't see what all the fuss is about. It was a perfectly pleasant view."
Green eyes flicker up to find her own haughtily, before Emma turns around and goes back to rooting in the dresser.
"Aw. Shy?"
The Queen teases, and the younger woman glances over her shoulder to offer a withering look.
"So sweet."
The brunette smirks, before raising a brow in surprise when the blonde yanks irritably at her towel to send it pooling around her ankles, leaving her in just a scant slash of midnight.
Emma says nothing, and remains stood facing the dresser as she searches for the one pair of lounge pants she owns that don't have a hole in them somewhere. She is furious at the brunette for her inappropriate move, but she is beginning to get even more angry that the latter should believe that she might be so easily intimidated. She is not often one to flaunt her body by any other means than preferring tight jeans, and that's more a case of practicality then it is fashion; baggier denim often becoming cumbersome if running about as she finds she needs to do all too frequently. That said, she has never been particularly body shy either, and her current discomfort has very little to do with what the brunette might have seen, and a whole lot to do with the perverse nature of how she caught her glimpse.
You played dirty...
She seethes silently, but she knows she's a fool for finding herself even remotely surprised. Still, the Queen's current silence is a small victory, as it is the hushed gasp of one witnessing something unexpected rather than initially crass. She's sure there will be twisted and confusing words to follow, but right now, she just enjoys a moment's peace. After all, this is hardly anything new for her. She'd spent six months of her life in a facility where she couldn't even fucking pee without an audience, and showers were a very communal affair. Hell, even after being shunted over to Solitary given her 'condition', she'd still been scrutinised by a guard if she so much as wanted to shave her legs. Not to mention, during the months leading up to her arrest, her main source of a place to wash and change had been to befriend one of the receptionists at the local gym and use their showers and locker rooms. She suffers no issue or embarrassment in baring her flesh, she has just never really been the sort to do so as a fashion statement.
"How did you come by those marks?"
The brunette enquires with tangible curiosity, and the blonde looks back at her, before glancing down at her backside.
"Sometimes things get clumsy with only one hand. You figure it out."
She offers cooly, and the Queen wets her bottom lip before taking it between her teeth as she studies the younger woman hungrily.
"You see, dear? Sometimes you can be interesting."
"Right."
Emma sighs, before turning around to face her captor and speaking up boldly.
"I can be. You used to be, too. This, though? Now? Not so much. Honestly, it's like being held prisoner by a bad caricature."
"... I suggest you stop there, Miss Swan. I will give you that one without retribution seeing as my mood has lifted to match my current view. You can have your cheap shot in return for the trick with the mirror. One more comment like that, though, and I'll have my own go at you."
The Queen hisses, holding out her hand and watching the minute change in the younger woman's appetising defiance as a blade- curved and sharp- materialises in her palm.
"The marks I make won't be accidental."
She warns quietly, and although Emma strives to keep her aloof composure, the brunette catches a ripple in her throat as she swallows, while a small shadow slices her jaw. She imagines that the younger woman has her teeth firmly clenched and that this might be in a rather wise attempt to keep herself from saying anything she might regret.
A shame, really...
Smiling to rub in her victory, the brunette makes a slow and purposeful show of dropping her gaze down to assess the blonde openly as she stands all but bare. She is silently impressed when Emma makes no move to shield her view; the younger woman refusing to back down even if she won't quite dare bite back with the threat currently on the table. It is a side to Emma she both likes and loathes, and one of the main causes of confusion she'd begun to suffer whenever thinking about the blonde back in her Mansion when she'd felt compelled to behave in a manner so strict and boring and futile.
Now, she drinks in pale skin and toned muscle shamelessly, silently congratulating herself on having chosen this particular way of getting to her eventual revenge. The blonde's hair covers her fairly generously, but not completely, and the Queen is able to spy enough to warrant the smirk she flashes back up into eyes narrowed with rage. Winking coquettishly in response, she makes herself comfortable against the headboard of the blonde's bed- offering quite an indulgent display of flesh herself- and places the blade theatrically on the nightstand where she can easily reach it.
Even though we both know, I have no need for it. But sometimes, a tactile threat just adds a little flair to the show.
Emma certainly seems to think so, and this doesn't necessarily come as a surprise to the Queen. The younger woman has finally gotten to grips with her power, but it is still usually not her first resort when in a crisis. There are still plenty of occasions where the blonde will reach for her gun before remembering that she has so much more to play with at her fingertips. Old habits die hard, and nurtured fears are often the strongest. It has been over the course of only a few years that she has been programmed to understand the threat of magic, but a good thirty odd that have taught her to mind a weapon. Her eyes flicker from the blade to the woman reclined comfortably on her bed before she turns around once more and finally finds what she's been looking for.
"Shame."
The Queen offers huskily, and Emma hesitates as she pulls up loose cotton pants, before yanking them over her hips and tying them tightly in place. She detects a cruel, playful note in the brunette's tone but no immediate warning, and so she pulls out a sweater and covers herself up with a sigh of relief. Turning back to the Queen, she eyes her reproachfully, wondering just what in the hell to expect next.
"You know, this would be much more fun if you stopped being so painfully uptight."
The darker woman sighs, and she is met with predictable silence.
"...Suit yourself. You're lucky, the wine has gone to my head and I'm feeling kind. I wish to rest and think over my options as it has been a terribly arduous ordeal of stealth and hiding since finding myself so wonderfully free. I might finally get some peace resting here knowing I will be undisturbed. I will tell you now though, I bore very quickly, Saviour. I suggest you take the evening to think of a more appealing response than silence and vinegar; trust me, you're going to want it to have been your decision to spice things up and not mine."
Dark eyes flicker pointedly to the blade on the table, while Emma's do the same.
"I'm tired, though. You can think on that until morning. Come now, get into bed."
"...With you?"
Emma frowns, and the brunette laughs lightly as the blonde's face is a picture of confusion and dubiety.
"Well, how else do you propose I make sure you're not up to no good. Someone's got to keep an eye on you."
She smirks, waiting expectantly for the younger woman to do as she's told. Emma grits her teeth as she looks once more from the blade to the hateful woman beckoning her onto the bed, before she finally takes a few wooden steps in that direction. She doesn't really see what else she can do, but she's having trouble getting her legs to work as everything about this just feels entirely wrong. Finally, she pulls herself gingerly up onto the covers beside the Queen, before thrashing back wildly when the darker woman pounces on her without warning.
"Just in case, though..."
The brunette breathes into her ear, conjuring up Emma's own handcuffs from the station and using the element of surprise to force the younger woman's wrist up over her head to lock her in place.
"What the hell!?"
Emma snarls up at her, and the Queen sits back on her knees looking down at the blonde with her lips pulled into a wicked smirk.
"Well, will you look at that..."
She muses quietly, brushing some of the younger woman's hair out of her face and leaning over her as she drinks in the discomfort glittering in green eyes.
"You realise, you can only play this game for so long, right?"
Emma hisses, moving uncomfortably as a hand comes to rest softly over her stomach.
"You're going to fuck up, and when you do, I'm going to kill you."
She warns, and the brunette throws her head back as she laughs gleefully; her corset riding low and allowing an appetising sight as she shakes with her mirth. Finally, she looks back down at her captive, her lashes wet with hilarity.
"No."
Is all she says, shaking her head.
The younger woman swallows; ruffled by the Queen's queer response. Dark eyes glitter before the Queen leans over her once again, and rich scarlet brushes against her cheek before trailing down to find her mouth. A momentary touch of the brunette's tounge to her top lip, before the darker woman pulls away.
"You just don't understand it yet, do you? You can't win this one, Saviour. I am reborn. I have no weakness. You... Well you're mine until I get tired of you. Sad but true. You can't... Win."
The Queen reiterates, running her fingers gently down the exposed flesh of the arm restrained behind the blonde's head as she smiles.
"No."
Emma warns, not with laughter as the brunette had uttered this word, but with anger.
"I've fought you before, in many forms. In many guises. I've gone up against you... And guess what, Your Majesty? I always win."