Warnings: PTSD from the marriage to Leo, discussion about marital rape, language and some lady love time (finally!).
As it turns out, it's somewhat hard to walk (or in this case, to make it up the sand to the house) when you're tangled up in someone's arms kissing them like there might not be a tomorrow and you don't actually care if there is.
It's almost embarrassing for them to be in this situation; they're grown women who have been with more than a few lovers in their many years of life. Between them, they have an abundant amount of sexual experience, and both of them have been made harder and more cynical by those experiences. They should know better than to think of this as more than a release of tension and stress; they should know better than to think of this as more than a way to put a fine point on all of the bonding and healing that has gone on at this safe house of theirs.
But that's not what this feels like.
This doesn't feel like something you check off of a list. This doesn't feel like a kind of medication that you swallow because it'll kill the pain for a little bit of time. No, this feels like peace and acceptance and so many others words that neither of these women are exactly friends with. They've spent so much time in their lives feeling the sting and pain of rejection and hurt, well it's damned near impossible to believe that anything could turn out better than those things.
Even now, perhaps there's a cold voice in the back of both of their minds telling them that this means nothing. Maybe even now, there's a voice telling reminding them that this is just sex.
Just sex and nothing deeper than that.
Just sex.
For once, though, they actually know better; for once they both know that this isn't just about sex because right now they're standing together in each other's arms on the cool sand of an empty beach with the moon overhead, and they're both just touching each other like nothing else exists in the world besides the feel of warm lips and fingers pressing against soft skin.
This feels so very good and so very right and like something that might just allow the both of them to breathe for the first time in a very long time.
And so they do.
The Savior and the Queen, pressed tight against each other.
Until Emma says between kisses that have swollen her lips, "My bedroom."
"Why yours?" Regina lobs back, challenging her because it's what she does.
"Softer bed."
Everything is going fine all the way until they get to the bedroom.
Up until that point, the worst issue that they run into is figuring out how to make it up the beach and still stay connected to each other. Clutching and kissing and turning and nearly tripping repeatedly, they scramble up the wet sand and then into the warm house.
"That way," Emma manages as they stumble through the front room and just barely avoid colliding with the couch. Her voice is no louder than a low husky whisper as Regina continues her assault – using her teeth and her tongue - against the pale skin of her neck. The queen is nothing if not persistent and passionate, and Emma's quite certain that there will be marks.
Which is a problem for later, she figures as she feels Regina bite down hard on her rapidly drumming pulse point before she then swirls her tongue across the sure to eventually be black and blue mark on Emma's neck. The sheriff feels the vibration of Regina's low chuckle against her sweaty skin when she gasps in reaction, and she thinks – wildly, insanely, she knows - that she just might be willing to sell her soul to Gold if that's what would be required to make this evening continue indefinitely; Emma is not a woman who is easily impressed by much of anything especially sex, but there's something to be said about wildly explosive passion.
"I know the way to the bedrooms by now," Regina reminds her, her own voice quite low.
"Right. Then move it," Emma responds before grabbing Regina's face and crushing their lips together once more. She feels like a young teenager filled to the brim with ridiculous lust; it's absurd from someone who has been through as much as she has to feel so completely out of control, but she does, and she knows that the one thing she doesn't want is for this to stop.
"Giving orders now, are we?" Regina purrs in response. Perhaps this should have been Emma's first warning that something had suddenly shifted between the two of them because suddenly there's a strange almost condescending lilt to Regina's voice; it doesn't at all fit the Mayor to speak this in this way, but Emma misses it completely. In fairness, she's pretty sure that if someone asked her name right about now, she'd probably babble out something nonsensical.
"If that will get us to the bed faster, then fuck yes," Emma retorts before she moves in for another kiss. It's at this moment that they arrive at her door, and with a wholly undignified kick outwards, the sheriff pushes it open and moves them both inside the still dark bedroom. "That is unless you'd prefer to stop this and go have some mint brownie ice cream instead."
"When did we get that?" Regina asks, seeming somewhat interested.
"I picked it up the store a couple days ago," Emma replies with a shrug (or as much of one as she can manage considering her constant physical positioning), not bothering to add that Henry had told her that it was his mother's favorite flavor.
"Mm. Perhaps later," Regina chuckles as she grabs at Emma's shirt to pull her closer again. Her mouth goes to Emma's clavicle and she nips at it hungrily, her teeth trailing sharply across it.
"Later, right," Emma breathes out roughly as she fumbles behind her absently for the lights.
Just as her fingers settle over the switch, one of Regina's hands settle over hers and pulls it away before she can flip it. "No, leave them off," she says, the words sounding like an order.
"Okay," Emma allows with a frown and a head tilt. "Why?"
"I prefer the darkness," Regina replies, and then she places a hand against both of Emma's shoulders and gives her a hard shove towards the wall, immediately pinning her against it.
"That feels loaded," Emma notes, her head falling backwards.
"Shush," Regina chuckles, the sound sharp and a bit cold sounding, and the previous softness gone now. "You're thinking too much. Sometimes it's nice to indulge in a little bit of darkness."
And it is dark, yes, but thankfully, there's still some light pouring in through the open window next to the bed. This small thin shaft of bright white allows Emma to watch as Regina – now moving in a way that seems almost predatory – glides towards her, her entire body seeming to sway. "Regina," she warns, feeling the hard wall pressing up against her back. She wants to remind her soon-to-be-lover that the darkness has never really been kind to either of them, but these words catch on her tongue as she continues to stare at the older woman as she moves even closer to her. She wonders if this is what Regina had looked like so many years ago; wonders if her lovers then had been as turned on, awed and as terrified as she is right now.
And of course the Queen – because yes, this woman in front of her right now is the Queen, Emma understands with somewhat frightening clarity – ignores her half-given warning completely. Emma tries to tell herself that this isn't a big deal; it's not abnormal for people to slip into roles in the bedroom. Maybe Regina is a hardcore dominant beneath the sheets.
Sure, it's not exactly what Emma had been hoping for tonight, but she thinks she can probably work with it and go with it as long as Regina is in the moment with her. The problem is, one look up at the older woman, and Emma knows for a fact that Regina is anywhere but here.
This isn't about domination, Emma knows as a cold tendril of panicked realization swirls through her gut; this is about self-protection and control.
For a woman like Regina Mills, those are very dangerous things, indeed.
For a woman like Regina Mills, such things lead to torn out hearts.
"Regina," Emma says again, hoping her voice will break through and offer some comfort to the woman who is now standing just inches away from her, staring back at her with intense eyes.
"Be calm," Regina tells her in in that wonderfully low voice of hers just before she's back in Emma's space and she's kissing her again, her soft lips slamming up hard against the sheriff's willing ones. Emma feels Regina's strong hands settle on both sides of her face, the Queen's elegant fingers sliding inwards and then circling around Emma's neck so as to hold her in place for her as the woman continues to devour the Savior's mouth with forceful kisses.
"Right," Emma breathes out as her head once again falls back against the wall with a thud, all of the ugly thoughts for the moment slipping away as a lustful haze seems to slide over her like Regina's magical purple smoke. Sure, she's a bit worried about the darkness which she can practically feel vibrating off Regina, but it's hard to think at all with the way the queen is touching her right now; it feels so good that it's hard to imagine that it could possibly be wrong.
Then again, Emma knows a thing or two about deluding yourself, and even she knows that that's what she's doing right now, right here; even she knows that something dangerous is happening, and it has more to do with the strange and almost cold way Regina is suddenly acting as opposed to the fact that they're just seconds away from making love to each other.
But then that's the problem; they're not actually about to make love.
These urgent pressing touches that she's feeling as Regina grinds hard fingers into her hips? As much as she would like to pretend otherwise, Emma knows that they're not the embrace of a lover but rather one of a fuck buddy. They're the hands of someone looking only to get off.
"Hey, easy, okay? Easy," she tries, hoping desperately that she can get this back on track emotionally for them. It's not about the fact that Regina is the dominant right now. Truth be told, Emma has never much cared about which role she takes on beneath the sheets and she doesn't really give a damn about that now, either. What she does cares about is how cold and empty and wrong this feels. How much it feels like they've lost the connection to each other.
And that's just not what Emma wants right now. Not for either one of them.
Regina's head snaps sharply – almost angrily - back on her neck and that's when Emma sees – thanks to the bright white beam of the moonlight - just how terribly dark the queen's eyes are. How strangely devoid of any kind familiar warmth they seem to be. "Is there a problem?"
"No, but…are you okay?" Emma asks in a tone that's meant to be soothing.
A furiously dark shadow seems to run its way through Regina's eyes for a moment before her bright red lips curl into a cruel smile. "I'm quite fine, dear, but unless I'm mistaken and I rarely am, I don't believe that I gave you permission to talk," is all the queen says before she violently slams Emma against the wall again and once more covers the sheriff's mouth with her own, her lips still soft but the physical contact almost painfully hard and demanding.
Yes, Emma realizes with a sinking feeling in her gut, there is a problem.
Because this kiss – if it could even really be called that; for it feels far more like a declaration of war than an invitation to further passion - couldn't be more different than the previous ones that they've been sharing. This kiss feels a bit like she's being forcibly conquered.
This kiss feels like Regina is trying to break her with the power of her will.
This is about defeat, but more than that, it's about surrender, and while Emma has never had an issue with being dominated in bed, she's not about to allow herself to be treated like she doesn't matter. Never again and certainly not by someone whom she…well she doesn't know what she feels for Regina exactly so she settles for the words "cares deeply for".
Because that, at least, feels honest if a bit understated.
"No," Emma states, putting her hands over Regina's. She squeezes down so as to try to gentle her words, but that seems have little to no impact on the queen. "Stop," she pleads, her voice barely more than a choked whisper. "Regina, please. Please, stop."
But she doesn't; Regina keeps pushing up against her, and kissing her, and God, it's not like the kisses are bad because they're most certainly not. No, the problem is that they feel like they're coming from a complete stranger now. They feel like they're coming from an enemy.
They're mean and hard and possessive and violent.
And this is not what she wants.
"Dammit, stop it," Emma growls, her voice louder now, and then she shoves outwards, and this time it's Regina who falls backwards. With a grunt of surprised protest, the queen hits the edge of the bed and crumbles, wincing as her knees buckle and she just barely holds herself up.
"Stop?" Regina repeats, a hundred strange emotions rushing across her still shadowed face. She looks confused and a bit frightened, her eyes clouded and alarmed. And then she looks scared and hurt and rejected, and Emma knows that she has to fix this, and do it quickly.
And yet, now almost furiously angry – and a bit scared - herself, Emma can't prevent herself from stepping almost aggressively towards Regina, her jaw tightly clenched. "What was that?" she snaps. "Where were you?"
"What…what are you talking about?" Regina sounds hoarse and shaken, and perhaps she is because she has the unsettled and unsteady look that someone gets when they've walked into a room that they'd hadn't expected to find themselves in. It's like she's surprised by what's happening – by what's just happened – between the two of them. It's almost like she can't quite seem to figure out how they'd ended up in here together.
"Where were you just now?" Emma demands. Despite her angry sounding words, though, her voice is softer, more worried than furious because she is suddenly quite scared for this woman, and what she wants to do more than anything else in the world is reach forwards and pull Regina into her arms, and hold her as tight as she can.
What she wants to do more than just about anything is protect Regina, but she knows that they can't survive off that kind of relationship; they can't move forward if they aren't balanced. They can't find solace in each other if they're unable to walk and talk each other through the pain.
So instead of moving, Emma stares at Regina, waiting for the former queen to speak and somehow make this right. Unfortunately, though, that's not really how Regina works. She's more of a burn it down to the ground rather than calmly talk it out kind of woman.
"I was…I'm right here." She shakes her head in confusion, her eyes wide and almost frightened.
Fear that is starting to bleed into anger.
"You weren't a few minutes ago."
"This is absurd," Regina barks back, but she looks more scared than angry.
"Is it?" Emma closes her eyes, takes a shuddering deep breath, and then she says in a deceptively calm voice, "Look, I think I understand better than just about anyone that sometimes sex is sex and normally I'm totally okay with that, but here's the thing: I wanted more than just that for us tonight so if all you wanted to have happen here, Regina, is for us to fuck it out against the wall of this room like we're two people who can barely stand each other scratching a mutual itch, then I think maybe we shouldn't do this at all."
"What are you talking about?" Regina snaps back.
Emma opens her eyes and really looks at Regina, and what she sees astonishes her.
What she sees isn't the outraged fury of a queen whose control had been defied; no, what the sheriff sees is a woman who is angry because she can't comprehend why what she'd done – what she had been offering up to her would-be-lover - had been so poorly received.
It occurs to the sheriff, then, that maybe Regina really doesn't have a clue about what she'd done wrong. Maybe she really doesn't know what she's supposed to have done right.
It strikes Emma that though Regina certainly knows what to do in the bedroom, she has no idea how to…act? Such an idea seems – as Regina had snapped out at her just seconds earlier – to be absurd, but the lost and nearly fearful look in Regina's suddenly frighteningly dark eyes now – so very different from the cold emptiness that had been there mere moments ago - appears to be telling Emma a terrible story that unsettles her more than she might care to admit.
Emma gentles her voice even further in reaction to the clear hurt and confusion that she sees on Regina's face. She shrugs her shoulders before she says, "I don't actually mind being a little rough. To be honest, I don't mind being a lot rough from time to time; I'm no wallflower, Regina, and I've been around the block, okay? What I do mind, though, is feeling like I'm not better than…" She stops to think about what she wants to say here, and finally continues with, "You were ragingly pissed at me just a few hours ago for kissing you in an alley because you said it was beneath you, but what you just made me feel like…" She shakes her head in frustration.
Regina's shoulders visibly sag and she drops down to the bed, suddenly looking very small and shattered, as Emma's words seem to break through the ugly fog that had settled over her. Her bright brown eyes are gleaming with unshed tears when she speaks. "You're right," she admits in a low voice that is somehow both thoughtful and terribly sad. "This is what I do. I hurt people even when I don't want to. It's who I am."
"No. No, I don't believe that." It's a bit strange to Emma how vehement she sounds – and how much the words she's saying actually sound right to her. But they are because after spending eight weeks with this woman, she's pretty sure that she knows Regina better than anyone ever has or perhaps ever will. And she feels like she knows that the woman who had kissed her so very gently out on the beach isn't at all the same one who had just thrown her against a wall.
"Then what do you believe? What is it that you believe that I'm capable of?" Regina presses.
"I don't know, but what I do know is that I want more for us than just anything that can be described as cheap or easy against a wall. After all that has happened between us, and after everything that we've been through together, I want more than that for both of us. I…care for you more than that, Regina." Her voice lowers as she whispers out these last few words, and her face contorts for a moment like she's about to cry. It hurts to actually be so open and honest. It hurts to throw everything out on the table and pray that someone won't reject her.
"Emma," Regina whispers, her heart constricting painfully as she sees the anguish dug into the lines on Emma's face, as she witnesses the soul-deep pain that she's caused her. For so long, Regina has willingly hurt anyone that she could and she'd done it without a second thought.
But this, this she doesn't want.
"You said that you wanted to remember this; well so do I. I want to remember every moment of this, and I want it to mean more than just something we've both done more times than we care to admit," Emma finishes before she retreats and falls back against the wall, her eyes closing as she says the words. Her shoulders are shaking, but she's not making a single sound; this is some kind of silent weeping, likely something she'd learned while growing up.
It's absolutely horrifying to witness.
"Emma, you are more. To me. You're so much more to me," Regina assures her as she stands up from the bed and moves across the room towards the silently shuddering sheriff. She steps into the blonde's space and lightly places a warm hand on Emma's forearm, causing the younger woman to open up her eyes and look right at her as she continues with, "And I am sorry that I ever made you…I am so very sorry if you felt otherwise because I don't want that."
"I…I believe you. I do. And you know what? I get it, okay?"
"Do you?"
"Unfortunately, yeah because I've been there; you check out during sex because sometimes it's better than thinking about what you're doing and what it means." She frowns as she thinks about all the times she had done that. After Neal had abandoned her, and after the affair with the married man who owns the house that they're in, she'd started to think of sex as a means to a biological needs orientated end. The only difference is that she's pretty damned sure that she hadn't ever looked like she was completely out of body and mind during the experience.
"I'm sorry," Regina says again, her voice low and trembling with the kind of pain that Emma knows comes from feeling something deep in your heart. When Emma lifts her eyes and looks right at Regina, though, it's not the words that move her, it's the devastated expression that she sees on the queen's beautifully sad face; it's the absolute remorse that she observes there.
"We've both been through entirely too much garbage in our lives, haven't we?"
Regina forces a sad smile which doesn't reach her eyes, the expression heartbreaking in what it says and doesn't say about her dark and bloody past. She then slides her hand into Emma's. "I don't want just a…I don't want that. What I want…what I want is you, Emma. I want you. "
What's she trying to say is something that she has never said to anyone – what she's trying to say is that she wants to make love to Emma – and so she just gazes at the sheriff and desperately hopes that she understands.
She does.
"Okay," Emma says, and takes her hand. She turns Regina's palm over and then presses a gentle kiss against the skin there. She moves her mouth to Regina's wrist and kisses that, too, before repeating, "Okay."
Regina lets out a deep rumbling breath as she feels Emma's continuous feather light kisses against her suddenly feverish skin. "Hold my eyes," she pleads. "Don't let me go away. Make me…make me stay with you."
"I can do that," Emma assures her, her green eyes locking on Regina's dark ones for a long moment before she gently – slowly - leans in and presses her lips against Regina's.
She holds the contact like that for several seconds.
Quiet and sensual in just the absolute stillness of it.
"Those weren't my eyes," Regina teases once there is air between them.
"No, but you're still here with me, aren't you?" Emma replies with a sly grin.
"So I am and so are you, and if you're willing, I'd like to try to start again," Regina requests before lifting up her hand and settling it for a moment in the hollow of Emma's throat, her fingers tapping lightly against the skin before lightly trailing downwards rather suggestively.
"I'm very willing," Emma tells her between suddenly ragged breaths.
"Very good," Regina smiles before she slowly draws her fingers down Emma's chest, running them between the valley of her breasts and then finishing up at her belly button with a slight swirl before settling there, the warmth of her palm almost overwhelming in that moment.
"Yes, very…very good."
"Eloquent as always, my dear Sheriff," Regina notes with a low throaty chuckle. She adds punctuation to this by leaning forward and ever so gently pressing her lips up against Emma's exposed neck, the queen's teeth lightly grazing against the skin there before she moves towards the pulse point that she can feel hammering away in time with her light kisses. She settles her mouth over it, and then runs her tongue across it, enjoying the way it seems to accelerate in reaction to her ministrations. Enjoying the way Emma seems to respond to her.
"Yes, but we are both wearing way too many clothes," Emma tells her before moving her fingers to the hem of Regina's shirt. She slides her hand beneath it, and presses her own palm against the flatness of Regina's abdomen. She feels the muscles ripple in response and grins.
"Then perhaps you should do something about that," Regina retorts with a smirk that can only be described as seductively challenging. "Or maybe you need me to tell you what to begin with, is that it, Miss Swan?" The darker and more frightening emotions appear to have completely left her, and in their place, there is now a delicious amount of teasing and gameplay.
It's enough to send an electric shudder through Emma's body.
"Well, you are the Queen," Emma reminds her.
"Indeed, I am," Regina acknowledges in a haughty voice, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifted up so as to give her the appearance of superiority. Emma can deal with this, though, because this is performance art. "And as I have no real use for this hideous sweatshirt of yours," Regina continues, her fingers rubbing against the rough cotton fabric of the hoodie for a brief moment before pulling away in a display of faux disgust. "I think that you should remove it. Now."
"Make me." And this is a bit of a test; Emma's trying to see how dominant Regina can get without losing control – without losing herself in the swirling madness which has for so many years owned her heart and soul. She's trying to find out if there's a switch that once flipped turns everything inside of Regina dark and mean. Something which makes her check out.
But then Regina's finding her eyes again, and Emma realizes with a bit of a start that the woman that she's come to know and care for – God, it's so much more than that, she realizes, though she's not even close to ready yet to put a different kind of word to what Regina means to her - over the last two months is the one that is smiling back at her right now.
Beautiful and full of desire and need for her.
"You know that I don't like to be denied," Regina reminds her with another smirk, her voice melodious. "So either remove the sweatshirt or I will take matters into my own hands."
"Then do it."
"So be it." Regina leans forward and captures Emma's lips, her tongue almost immediately pushing past her teeth and into her mouth for a moment before sliding back out to lightly run over Emma's lower lip. Emma's so distracted by this that for a moment that she doesn't notice Regina's hands sliding back to the hem of the sweatshirt. And then she does notice it because the Queen is lifting it up, the touch so light and gentle. "Everything must go," she murmurs.
Emma laughs, then. "Patience," she mumbles against Regina's lips.
"You should know by now that I have none. Now raise your arms."
Unable to stop herself from smiling like a lovesick fool, Emma does as ordered this time, allowing the sweatshirt to be pulled over her head. As it falls away, fluttering to the floor, Emma lifts her hand to the back of her own hair and releases her hair from the loose ponytail it had been in. Wavy blonde rushes down and cascades over her shoulders, curtaining her face.
"Apparently a diet of Twinkies actually does work," Regina husks out as her eyes sweep admiringly over Emma's body. The sheriff is in just in workout pants and white sports bra now, but it's her intense musculature that has captured the queen's very much intrigued attention; it's the way Emma's well-toned biceps and tightly wound abdominal muscles seem to ripple with each deep breath in and out. "Who would have ever thought such to be possible?"
"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises," Emma offers up with a wry self-depreciating chuckle as her hands slides forward to start unbuttoning Regina's white dress shirt. As she does so, she moves in for another deep kiss, pressing her body flat against Regina's. She can feel Regina's heart slamming against her chest, and the sheer strength and power of it is intoxicating in a way that Emma would never have believed possible before. But then again, until she'd met Regina Mills a little over a year ago now, there'd been a lot of things that she'd never really believed possible.
What's happening right now? Well it's as close to proof as anyone will ever have that the world is an insane place full of unexpected twists and turns.
And the newest one of those? The wonderful noise Regina makes when Emma drops her head down and ever so gently presses her lips against the now revealed cup of Regina's delicate lacy white bra. Her mouth is warm and just slightly wet, and the sound the beautiful queen lets out is something like a rumbling whimper that sends vibrations rushing up and down Emma.
It takes everything Emma has not to shudder in reaction and then rip off all of her clothes and say to hell with slow and gentle and…but no.
No.
She'd meant what she'd said earlier; she wants more for the both of them – for this first and maybe only time – than something quick and fast and hard.
She wants it to matter.
Judging by the intoxicating way that Regina is reacting to her touch, it does.
She sees the way Regina dips her body backwards to allow her more room to work with; feels the way Regina's heartbeat quickens as she begins to gently suck on one of the queen's nipples through the now damp fabric of her bra, one of Emma's hands reaching over to lightly palm and squeeze the other breast. And oh does the Savior hear the delicious low whimper that rolls its way up and out of Regina's throat as Emma's teeth tease against the hardening peak.
"Oh, yes," Regina growls out, and Emma wonders if the queen is responding – belatedly – to her comment about being full of surprises or if this is just Regina muttering out near nonsense words because of what she's currently feeling. Emma finds that she doesn't really care what this is in response to; she only cares that Regina is happy and clearly feeling good.
"I think, Your Majesty, it's time for this shirt – as wonderful as it is on you, and God, is it ever - to go," Emma insists as she pushes the now unbuttoned garment off of Regina's shoulders. The fabric flitters to the ground and settles down next to Emma's sweatshirt, completely forgotten about now as Emma puts both of her arms around Regina's body and pulls her close again, her lips finding Regina's mouth again and pressing down hard and urgently. The kiss is answered in tone and ferocity, and then they're both tumbling haphazardly together towards the bed.
For a few moments after they collapse onto the bed together in a swirl of legs and arms, they're a lot like two teenagers trapped in the heat of a passion that they can't even dream of controlling. For a short time, they just roll around on the soft mattress, both of them allowing and then taking the lead from the other as their mouths continue to connect over and over.
"Need these off, too," Emma says as she yanks her workout pants down her body, and then reaches down to fiddle with the snap of Regina's slacks. The queen lifts an eyebrow up at she watches the sheriff feverishly work the latch. "Legs," she says after a few moments of struggle.
"I should make you use your teeth," Regina husks out as she lifts up her hips and allows Emma to slide the dark slacks down her well-toned legs.
"We can do that later if you'd like," Emma agrees as she quickly tosses the pants towards the rest of the clothing pile. After allowing herself a brief moment to admire Regina's nearly naked body save her matching lacy white bra and panties (it occurs to her that she should have tried to find something in red for Regina, but then she thinks, the color won't actually matter for too much longer, anyway), she then climbs over Regina, straddling her slender hips for a moment of pleasurable review before she leans down and captures Regina's mouth in another long kiss.
Almost immediately, she feels the sharp scrape of Regina's nails as they rake against her back, light at first and then much harder as Emma moves her mouth to the queen's neck and begins to suck fiercely enough to leave bruises on her pulse point. When a hand slips down and under the cotton of her sports bra, she hears the message sent loud and clear: this, too, must go.
And so it does. In a flurry of quick motion, Emma pulls the sports bra over her head, and then looks down at Regina and grimaces uneasily. This is that moment – the one that always terrifies Emma; she's almost completely exposed now, wearing only a thin pair of Hanes for Women underwear, and she's desperately wondering what the woman beneath her is thinking.
Is she impressed? Pleased? Disgusted? Underwhelmed?
Emma's always felt like a bit of a lost girl, and though she puts up pretty damned good front while in front of the lovers she's taken, these are those moments that make her feel so very young, small and vulnerable. These are the ones that make her want to find a corner and hide.
But then Regina is smiling at her and her typically dark eyes are suddenly so very bright and they almost seem like they're dancing with a kind of strange wonderful happiness – the kind of which Emma has seen so little of. "As I've said previously, my dear Sheriff, you are absolutely beautiful," Regina whispers. She lifts up a hand to Emma's face and then gently presses a stray tendril of blonde hair back behind her left ear. "How have you never seen this in yourself?"
Unable to stop herself from responding as she always has to words that have usually been said to her because someone had wanted something from her, Emma looks down and away, her pale face pinking around the edges as her troubled mind goes to war with her wanting heart.
"No," Regina says suddenly, sharply. "I told you before: don't ever look away from me. Never." And then she's leaning up, pressing her arms around Emma's waist and drawing her into a kiss that is both gentle and fierce. Her heart nearly exploding from the force of the emotion and relief which she's feeling right at this moment, Emma allows herself to exhale into the kiss.
And then she takes the lead and pushes Regina back towards the pillows and the blankets; to her surprise, Regina goes willingly, her hair fanning out beneath her. Without a word of protest, she lets the sheriff climb over her and flatten her body against hers. "I want you," Emma says.
She doesn't give Regina a chance to respond; instead, she drops her mouth down again and presses it back to Regina's left breast, nipping lightly at the soft flesh there for a brief moment before she gets frustrated with the fabric that's separating her from being able to feel Regina's bare skin. Her hands moving expertly, she slides them behind the queen's muscular back and unsnaps the bra clasp. She flings the bra away, looks down at the stunning woman staring up at her, and then she bites down on hard enough to almost draw blood on her lip when she almost breathes out the word "perfect" because good God this woman beneath her absolutely is that.
Instead, to keep herself from saying anything stupid, she puts her mouth down and tastes the salt and sweat, which glitters against the skin of Regina's breasts. She flicks her tongue against one of the queen's hardened nipples and chuckles when she hears that rumbling growl working it's way up Regina's throat again. She thinks she could get addicted to hearing a sound like that.
She's pretty damned sure that she could get drunk on it.
"Emma," she hears Regina gasps. "More."
"More what?"
"Don't tease."
"But I want to," Emma whines.
Dark eyes flicker up towards hers. "That's a dangerous game to play."
"Maybe, but you have to admit it's a game worth playing," Emma admits with grin before moving in for another feverish kiss. It's greeted warmly for and then passionately and then almost combatively as Regina tries to flip her around so that she can take the lead again.
That's when Emma makes her mistake.
Later, when everything is quiet and calm and she's thinking about what had happened between them, she will believe she should have seen this coming, but in fairness which she will refuse to grant herself, despite the clues that she'd been provided with about restraints and Regina's former husband, there's no way that she could have foreseen this reaction; since they'd hit the sheets, they've been jockeying for a kind of dominance and this had seemed like that to her.
She's sure that it seems like that to Regina as well so the moment the queen tries to turn her over so that she can take over control of their little dance, Emma reaches out with her hands and in a quick motion, settles her fingers over Regina's wrists before she lifts them up and pins them above the older woman's head, thereby holding Regina down and in position beneath her body, a wicked grin on Emma's face as she prepares to gloat about her assumed victory.
That's when Emma sees the decidedly dark and ugly shadows sweep with almost violent suddenness over Regina's now drawn face like a storm cloud that's about to offer up thunder and lightening and a whole lot of pain and misery. Her grin rapidly falling away, Emma watches in mute horror, as Regina's previously caramel colored eyes turn almost completely black.
And Emma knows – she just knows – that Regina is somewhere terrible.
It's this thought – this realization – that has Emma rapidly releasing her wrists.
But then something completely unexpected happens; Regina starts to fight back against whatever demons are trying to settle in her mind. She blinks and blinks and the darkness fades into something hurt but not angry; something scared but not destroyed. She looks up at Emma.
"Emma," she whispers out in a broken voice, swallowing hard and then doing it again and again. Tears form in her eyes, and she tries to blink them away, but a few manage to slip out as Regina valiantly struggles against the nearly unimaginable nightmares of her shattered past.
As she fights back against the tremendous pain there.
"I'm here," Emma assures her as she leans in – completely on instinct– and kisses at the stray tears as if to wipe them away. "I'm right here and so are you," she promises. "And you're okay."
What happens next does so almost simultaneously; when Regina doesn't appear to be responding to her reassurances, afraid of causing the upset queen even more pain and anguish, Emma starts to back away, suddenly acutely aware of her nudity, but just as her naked legs separate from Regina's, one of Regina's hands snaps out and grabs feverishly at Emma's. "Don't leave me," she whispers and Emma realizes that the older woman is trying desperately to find her eyes. To find something to hold her up so that she can finally stop herself from falling.
"I won't," Emma promises her, her other hand sliding out to touch Regina's cheek, the warmth almost blisteringly hot against her cool palm. "I'm so sorry," she offers, her face contorting for a moment into one of frustration – not with Regina, but with herself for not being more careful.
Regina doesn't let her finish the sentence; for once, she allows the passion which she feels for just about everything to come forward in a way that she hopes will protect her without ruining her. In a flurry of motion, Regina leans up and kisses Emma hard on the other woman's pale lips, the contact fairly chaste considering previous kisses, but somehow intense in what it's communicating. "Touch me," she gasps out, the sound almost getting lost in the heated kiss.
Emma doesn't need to be told twice. Whatever this is or isn't, they both want it enough to try to push through their insecurities and demons; they both desire each other enough to want to fight for this evening to occur, and so she determines with a growing smile, it will.
In one quick fluid bit of movement, Emma rolls her body so as to pull Regina on top of her. She then puts her hands out, weaves them through the older woman's dark hair and brings her down so that they are flush with each other. The nearly blisteringly hot skin on skin feeling is enough to make Emma gasp and grit her teeth because it's been so very long since she's been this close to anyone like this, and so much longer than that since it was someone that she actually desired to be with; this, she wants in a way beyond the understanding of it.
It makes absolutely no sense to feel the wild and almost insane things that she does for this woman who has caused her family – and more recently, herself - so much pain over the years, but then again, she's starting to think that maybe she's done with caring about what is or is not logical. Life rarely makes sense and love…or whatever this is between them doesn't, either.
She wants to be with Regina; she wants to touch her and make love to her.
And right now that's all she cares about.
So when Emma drops her head back and moans along with the feeling of Regina's teeth grazing against her throat and then her breasts, all she thinks is that this is exactly right.
This is exactly what she wants and needs.
She feels Regina's hand slide down her belly and then into waistband of her underwear. Before she can think to react, Regina gives the intrusive garment a hard yank, and then begins to pull it down Emma's long legs. "I want this gone," the queen mutters against her overheated skin just before she leans in and takes one of the sheriff's nipples into her mouth. Emma squeezes her eyes shut and tries to understand exactly how it is that she's supposed to figure out how to complete a complex operation like undressing herself while Regina is doing…well that to her.
And that, apparently, is touching her in ways that are causing her brain to rapidly short circuit. The fact that Regina's other hand is now palming the breast that her mouth isn't on sure isn't helping Emma's thinking process.
What does help is when Regina pulls back and away from her – causing her to whimper rather embarrassingly in protest – and looks down at her with an eyebrow lifted up in what appears to be mock annoyance. "Did you not hear what I said?" she asks mock-imperiously. "I want these gone. Now. This is the second time that I've had to request a quicker disrobing, my dear Savior; I can't say that I'm overly impressed with your listening and obedience skills this evening."
"You're not with me because I follow orders well," Emma reminds her with an impish grin, her hand trailing up and across Regina's jawline. She feels vaguely lightheaded right now, and it's making her absolutely silly. "In fact, we both know that you're with me because I don't."
Regina chuckles, but doesn't bother to deny it, her own hand capturing Emma's and squeezing it for a moment before she brings it to her lips and kisses the tips of two of Emma's fingers.
"Exactly."
"So cocky and sure of yourself, you are, Sheriff," Regina husks, shaking her head like she disapproves of Emma's attitude though the bright almost mischievous glinting in her eyes suggests otherwise. "I think it's time that I reminded you of a few very important things."
"Such as?"
"What I am capable of."
"You keep threatening me with that," Emma challenges.
"The time for threats is over," Regina assures her before she rather gracefully slides her way down Emma's body. "Just promises now."
"Right," Emma groans out as her eyes flicker up towards the ceiling.
"Be calm," Regina commands, her deep voice little more than an authoritative growl now. And then Emma feels a soft puff of warm air against her belly and the slight scrape of teeth as Regina places her mouth against the skin she finds just below Emma's well-defined hipbone.
"Oh God," Emma gasps out as two hands push at her already mostly descended underwear, finally forcing it all the way down her legs and over her feet. She has little time to really think about this – and she doesn't actually care to – before she feels Regina's mouth settling over her for a long drawn out dramatic moment, and then…and then her tongue is moving inside her.
She cries out and Regina – fucking Regina who knows exactly how insane she is driving her former enemy – chuckles against Emma's feverish skin. And then she just keeps on going until Emma's cries become screams and she's saying words that mean everything and nothing. Her hands are wrapped into Regina's hair and she's both pushing and pulling and holding.
She feels Regina's delicate fingers tap lightly – and perhaps even somewhat suggestively - for a moment against her buttocks before they're joining the party that the queen's mouth has been throwing and though Emma knows exactly what is happening and exactly what part of Regina is inside of her right now, everything is just warm and hot and burning and oh…
Her now intensely bright green eyes shudder closed and then sharp white lights pop behind her clenched lids as her body all but lifts itself off of the mattress in response to the explosions that are tearing their way through her overheated body like tiny violent – perfect - firecrackers.
What she feels next is both less than that and more than that.
What she feels next is a simple almost chaste kiss.
Gentle curiously tasting lips pressed lightly, perhaps even lovingly against hers.
Emma laughs softly once they pull back from each other, both of their eyes still locked tightly together as they gaze at each other. "Well I guess that answers that question," she states.
"Which question is that?" Regina asks of her as she leans in and peppers light kisses up and down Emma's jaw, each of them a tiny pinprick of intense pleasure.
"If you'd ever been with a woman before."
Regina looks up at her, and smiles slightly, and there's a strange kind of unsettling sadness there, but it's one that she once again successfully pushes back against. "I think it's quite safe to say that I have always enjoyed beautiful things no matter the wrapping that they came to me in." Then, the smile growing into something truthful and magnificent because of that, she says, "You, though, my dear Sheriff Swan, well you make ripping the paper off quite worth it."
Something happens inside of Emma when she hears these words. It feels a bit like someone – Regina, in this case – has just poured balm all over her heart and all of the cracks and breaks that have been there for so long, well they feel like they're finally coming together.
Finally knitting and healing.
As if possessed by the need to touch this woman again, Emma surges upwards and kisses Regina as hard as she can, pouring every bit of feeling and emotion and yes perhaps even the beginning of what might be called love that is currently swimming around within her into the passionate embrace. There's a clash of lips and teeth and tongues and it feels like she can't possibly get close enough to Regina, but she damn well intends to try. And then, when they're forced to separate so that they can breathe, she grins up at the stunning woman who is still perched over her, matching awe and amazement on her own face, and says, "My turn."
It's three in the morning when Emma wakes up. She can hear the soft sound of raindrops hitting the roof, and it's melodic, but she thinks nothing of this because what she notices first is that she's alone in the bed. The bed that just hours earlier, she'd been sharing with Regina.
Well, she'd been doing a lot more than just sharing it with Regina, she thinks with a smile. One which quickly fades away when she looks once more towards the opposite side of the mattress; she can recall them falling together into a heap of tangled limbs after the last shared orgasm, and she thinks she remembers the feel of Regina's warm breath on her shoulder as the queen had tucked her head into her shoulder. So the important question is, where is Regina now?
Had she panicked and fled the room? The house? It wouldn't be terribly surprising if she had; they both have a bit of runner in them, and what had happened between them had certainly been panic-worthy. Funny then, Emma thinks, that she's not freaking out at all right now.
It's so very strange, she knows, that she doesn't have a single regret about having spent several hours making passionate love to a woman who had not long ago been known as the Evil Queen.
But she doesn't and she won't, and she hopes that she's not alone in this.
She pushes herself up from the soft bed, groaning at the pleasant tightness in her muscles. Chuckling at the absurdity of this, and then reaches down and grabs at a pair of shorts on the dresser and pulls them on. She follows this up with a tank top, and then exits the room.
Hopeful that when she steps into the front of the house, she'll find the woman who she thinks she might be falling in…yeah, that.
"Morning," she hears before she's even really stepped out of the hallway.
Emma blinks and turns towards the kitchen. Which is where she finds Regina standing, behind the bar wearing what looks like just the white dress shirt.
Perhaps only the dress shirt.
There's a carton of mint brownie ice cream in front of her as well, Emma notices, and it looks like Regina has done some serious damage to it, In all honesty, though, Emma is having more than a little bit of trouble focusing on anything past the white shirt and how unbelievable beautiful Regina looks with her dark hair slightly tousled. She looks so very young right now, and Emma wonders how she could have ever thought this woman had no soul.
A badly damaged and broken one certainly, but not an absent one.
"Morning," Emma says as she approaches. "Get hungry?"
"Mm, something like that. I woke up. Heard the rain. Thought of ice cream." Regina shrugs. "I did tell you that I have a sweet tooth. I just tend to indulge in it…quietly."
"Right. Give me a spoon."
"Such manners," Regina chides, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
"Hey! I said please earlier. Numerous times if I recall." She all but smirks lecherously when she says this because yes, she had said that. And so had Regina.
Numerous times.
Regina chuckles. "So you did." She hands Emma a spoon and then watches as the sheriff dips it into the carton, carves up a bite and then pops it into her mouth, a grin spreading across her lips at the flavor of the ice cream.
"You have good taste," Emma notes with an endearing amount of happiness.
"In all things, yes."
Emma takes in another spoonful, swirls the ice cream around in her mouth for a moment, swallows and then asks, "Are you okay with what happened?" She means their lovemaking for sure, but she also means the moment with the wrists as well, and they both know it.
And, of course, as impatient as ever, Regina cuts right to the heart of the matter. "Ask what you really wish to ask, Emma."
"Are you sure?"
"I am." Her voice is quiet, but they both know this for the massive moment that it is; Regina has spent so long running away from this particular nightmare, and that she is now willing to face it and speak of her former husband is the most clear proof that she is finally healing that there is.
"All right. What happened in there? With your wrists, I mean."
"No, you mean my wrists and when I…checked out. It's all part of the same, I'm afraid," Regina admits. She sighs like someone who has to face their worst nightmare. Which is probably an accurate description for this situation. "As I'm sure that you've figured out by now, this is something that I have never spoken to anyone about. I imagine that others knew; certainly Rumple was aware of what I was going through, and Jefferson at least suspected, but well Rumple wouldn't have helped because it wasn't part of his plan and Jefferson had his own reasons for letting me fall into the darkness."
"I'm here," Emma assures her, just as she had in the bedroom.
"I know you are, and I think maybe that's why it's time to exorcise this particular…demon from my heart." Her face contorts when she says this, as if to suggest that the word doesn't come close to expressing her true feelings about her now long dead former husband.
"You want me to grab some wine for this or –"
"Ice cream is good. Because when this is over, I'd like to return to something more enjoyable." She smiles slightly when she says this, and though the words are suggestive, there's something innocent and hopeful about the statement; like she want and needs it to be that simple.
"I'm more than okay with that," Emma says with a nod, and then she waits.
It's several minutes and another quarter of the ice cream carton before Regina finally starts speaking, having finally screwed her courage up. "You have to understand that things in the Enchanted Forest were different than they are here. By the expectations and etiquettes of that world, the King might have even been considered gentle and kind in the way that he dealt with me. He never sought to deliberately hurt me. At least not at first. Initially, anyhow, there was no out and out malice in his actions, just a rather blatant – to me, anyway - general disregard for me as a person. He viewed me as his Queen and therefore as one of his possessions."
Emma wants to say something; she desperately wants to rage for Regina and tell her how truly screwed up such an idea is, but reluctantly, she clamps her mouth closed because she knows that this is a story which her now lover needs to get out. Doing so is already hard enough without Emma offering up her sympathetic anger – no matter how well meaning it might be.
"On our wedding night, he called out for his first wife – Snow's mother - while he was atop me, while he was taking my virginity. He was drunk and he was rough and it hurt terribly, but it was my duty. He'd given me riches and title, and I was expected to offer myself up to him in trade."
She stirs her spoon within the ice cream for a moment, looking as though she's lost in a memory of the past, which she can't quite find her way past. A strange sad smile flitters across her lips for half a second before fading away and leaving her without any expression at all.
"At that time, I was living within my own delusion; I believed that by learning magic, I could find a way to bring Daniel back to life. I thought that once I had, he and I could run away, and this would all just fade to the kind of nightmare that he'd hold me through from time to time."
She shakes her head in anger at this thought, like it's the most absurd thing ever.
Like it's something only a naïve silly child could imagine possible.
"Once I realized that that wasn't going to ever happen, I resigned myself to my fate and to my station as the Queen – to my role as his queen. For a long while, my husband seemed pleased enough with our arrangement which was basically that we ignored each other except when we were entertaining royal guests of honor or when he desired…companionship from me. Perhaps he, too, deluded himself. Perhaps he actually believed that I enjoyed these…nights together or perhaps he simply didn't care. The one time that I dared to let him know that he'd hurt me, I was rather harshly reminded of my responsibilities to him and the kingdom; that's how it was phrased. I was told that I should never make a sound other than pleasure and that I was never to let the King believe that I was anything less than satisfied with his…performance."
"Jesus," Emma growls out in disgust, the word slipping out before she can stop it. She frowns in apology, but Regina quickly waves it away, the slightest bit of an appreciative smile on her lips.
"It's fine. As for Jesus, well I stopped believing in any kind of benevolent higher power – be it a supreme being high up in the sky or a so-called fairy godmother - after Daniel died and I was forced to accept the fact that I'd never be able to bring him back," Regina counters. "I started to believe in magic instead. I never actually wanted power, but having it – possessing the control it offered me – well that seemed better than being little more than a glorified prostitute which was what I felt like every single time the King came to my chambers to claim his marital rights."
"You said he wasn't malicious at first. That changed?"
"It did. I'm sure you're read the medieval history of this world, yes?"
"A little bit. Mostly watched it on Showtime and HBO."
Regina chuckles. "Excepting the rather gross and often bizarre creative licenses taken by the television of this world, some of it is quite accurate and similar; the King wanted a male heir, and he expected me to give him one as soon as was possible. It was my duty as his wife."
"Beyond that being utterly repulsive –"
"By the standards of here and now, yes, but by the ones I grew up in, it was as ordinary as losing a tooth or throwing a banquet. In the Enchanted Forest, women and girls were bought and sold as wives for the express purpose of providing heirs to the men who wanted them."
"Charming. No pun intended. Okay, but what about my mother? I was of the impression that my…that the King was quite enamored with her." She sees the quick look that passes over Regina's face as she stops herself from calling Leopold her grandfather; it hasn't been lost on her that this whole time, Regina has only referred to him as either her husband or the King. She wonders if this is a way to create between her and the man she still so deeply loathes. Either way, Regina's clearly thankful to not have to be reminded that the King was in fact the grandfather of the stunning woman whom she'd just spent several hours making love to.
"He was," Regina replies with a sharp nod. "He idolized Snow more than reasonably be put into words, but even he knew that his legacy would be that much stronger if he had a male heir ready to assume the throne. Women were considered by everyone to be the far weaker sex, and he saw Snow as a beautiful child and not someone capable of ever leading his Kingdom."
"But you never game him a child. Male or otherwise."
"No. I got pregnant three times during the first two years, and miscarried each time within five months of conception – the last one was by far the worst because I actually believed he had a chance to come to term. After that, the dirty horrible little men there that passed for doctors decided that I must have what this world would call a hostile womb. Theirs terms for it were much cruder, though, and basically amounted to the word useless." She laughs bitterly at this. "After that, I went from a useful possession to a convenient one. Instead of potentially being the mother of the King's child, he saw me as little more than bed partner and Snow's well-titled nanny. But even so, I was still his and he expected me to always be obedient and docile."
"Obedient and docile. I'll be honest; I just can't picture that."
Regina shrugs. "I was a very good actress for the most part. And while he convinced himself that I was appropriately acting the part of his well-heeled queen, I was off jumping between worlds with Jefferson and studying how to controls hearts with Rumple. Every time the King came to my bed, I played whatever role he wanted me to, and perhaps that was part of the problem. I really believe that after awhile, the King learned to hate me as much as I hated him. Maybe it was because I was unable to give him the son he so desperately wanted or maybe it was because I was giving him my body without a fight and he wanted to punish me for what I hadn't been able to provide him and couldn't, but either way, he started trying to keep me even closer to him with strange demands and requests that made little logical sense. And he begun to prevent me form leaving the castle whenever possible. When he heard that I'd been out in the woods, he punished me for actions unbecoming a Queen by locking me in my room for almost a week. I wasn't permitted to see anyone but Snow or himself during that time."
"Is that what the restraints are about?"
"Yes and no. I hated the sound of the door locking, and every time that he locked me in that godforsaken room, I saw images in my head of him dying in horrific ways that frightened even me. I even thought of how I might do it. Rumple slowed me down, of course, though back then he stated that it was because I wasn't yet strong enough to kill the King and get away with it. Not yet, anyway. Now I know that it just wasn't the right time for me to do it. Rumple's plan was quite specific and he needed me to play along with it. That didn't stop the daydreams,. I had them of the King and I had them of your mother and they just got worse every day."
"Until Sydney came along."
"They didn't actually stop when he arrived; not the ones of your mother, anyway. But yes, he did give me a way out of my marriage and by that time, I had mostly broken free of Rumple. Or so I'd thought. I was wrong, of course, but that's an entirely different story." She purses her lips "I did try to help Sydney escape after he killed the King, and if he had just listened to me…"
"He was obsessed with you, and didn't want to leave you," Emma notes unnecessarily.
"So was the King and I think by now we know how things end up when obsession with me is involved; badly for everyone," Regina reminds her. "The King ended up dead by snakebite and Sydney found himself locked away in a mirror and then years later in an insane asylum."
"We really should get him out of there," Emma suggests with a chuckle.
"Probably," Regina agrees with a sigh. "As for the rest of the story on the restraints, well that happened deep into the marriage after rumors starting making their way around the kingdom that I was into witchcraft. They were correct, of course, but the King was hardly willing to believe them. He saw me as little more than a silly stupid girl who couldn't properly follow orders and directions. He thought I was being frivolous out in the forest and he was furious that I kept allowing it to occur. One night, he came to my room quite drunk and yelling at me for embarrassing him with his advisors. I tried to calm him and assure him that I'd never do that, but I think he almost wanted me to confirm that I would because he got angrier every time I denied it. And then he slammed me against the bed and when I tried to struggle and tell him that he was hurting me, he held my wrists above my head and…well, I think you know."
Regina looks down after she says this, her eyes closing as the memories sweep through her. She wants to be strong and push them back, but for a moment she can see everything clearly. She can feel his hands on her, pushing her her into position and reminding her of her place.
"Was it just that once?" Emma asks softly, mercifully returning her to the present.
"No. After that evening, such displays of ownership and force were more…frequent." She shakes her head as if to try to gain control of her emotions. "The thing is, even then, he was probably far kinder to me then someone like George would have been. George would have been unspeakably cruel and well…well, I wasn't allowed to cry or show pain in his presence, but afterwards, the King always sent someone in to care for me. In a weird way, my hatred for him grew simply because of that; I might have loathed him less if he had been honest all the way through about what he saw me as, but there were times when he would show compassion and they absolutely infuriated me. Even more so because that supposed kindness was all that your mother ever saw of his interactions with me. She believed – believes, I think – to this day that he loved me and was always good to me, and that I murdered him out of a lust for power."
"I'm sorry," Emma says, terribly aware of how underwhelming the word is for this.
"You have nothing to be sorry for; he might be your grandfather, but you share nothing in common with him aside from DNA, and I have to believe that biology is not what makes a person good or evil because if it does…" she trails off, clearly thinking about her mother now.
"I think the fact that Henry takes more after you than he does me proves that biology doesn't mean shit," Emma agrees. "And I know he's not really anything to me, but that doesn't mean I don't hate what you went through." As she says this, she steps around the bar. As she does so, her green eyes sweep over Regina, and she's able to see that the queen is, in fact, wearing only the now buttoned up white shirt and her previously discarded underwear. Seeing her like this is almost excruciatingly arousing, but Emma bites back on this and instead slips behind Regina and puts her arms around her, the hold loose and light. "Hey," she says gently, nonsensically.
Regina's response is to drop her head against Emma's shoulder. "I fought back," she states, her voice quiet. "When you touched me like that, I felt myself leaving again. It's the strangest feeling; you're completely there one minute and then you're just not and I felt that happening."
"But you stayed with me and he's dead and he can't ever hurt you again," Emma assures her, leaning in to press a very soft kiss against the hard line of Regina's jawline.
"He is, but he still can hurt me if I allow him to, and…and I don't want that anymore."
"Give it time. One day it won't because…you'll have so much more in front of you."
"One day," Regina repeats, her voice catching and her eyes fluttering closed as Emma moves her mouth to her neck and starts to press kisses against the skin there. They're fairly innocent pecks, and Regina has no doubt that if she were to say no, this would stop immediately.
"There's still ice cream left," Emma says suddenly, between kisses.
Regina's eyes slowly open and she looks down at the mostly empty carton that is still on the counter. True enough, there is a bit of ice cream left, but just as she is realizing this, she's also feeling something cold and slightly sticky get smeared against pulse point. "Is that –"
"Ice cream? On you? Yup, sure is. I wanted to know if it tastes just as good…without the spoon," Emma tells her as her mouth covers the spot and she rather lazily licks at the cold dessert.
"And?"
"No complaints here," Emma chuckles as she sucks at the sweet skin. As she does this, her other hands moves to the hem of the white shirt and she pulls free the bottom button. She stops then, and brings her lips to Regina's ear, running her tongue over the shell of it before she says, "Tell me what you want. If you want me just to hold you, I'm more than happy to do that, but if you're okay with that, I'd sure like to show you what I'm capable of, Your Majesty."
"Show me," Regina says, her hand going up to cover Emma's cheek.
Emma grins and then without further hesitation – or warning, for that matter - she slips her right hand down the front of Regina's body and into the lace of her underwear. With her left hand, she cups one of Regina's breasts through the white shirt, rubbing a thumb across an already hardened nipple. She hears and feels the sharp intake of breath the queen allows and lets that wonderful satisfied sound guide her as she slides her fingers deep into Regina.
"Emma," she hears Regina whimper; it's a plea not a protest so she ignores it, instead dropping her mouth back to Regina's neck so that she can litter kisses all across the warm skin there.
"You're safe," she says when she lifts up mouth to Regina's ear. "I promise you, you're safe."
"I know," Regina allows, then turns slightly towards Emma. "Kiss me."
"Gladly." And so she turns Regina fully towards her and kisses her, their lips and teeth crashing together as the sheriff continues working her hand and listening to the rumbling sounds that are coming out of Regina's throat as she brings the queen closer and closer to the edge again.
"Please," Regina whispers, and then she's shaking and nearly collapsing and the only thing there to keep her up are Emma's strong arms and the lips that are now pressed to her temple.
After a few long moments of this, Emma whispers, "Couch or bedroom?"
"Couch. Closer."
Emma chuckles at the abnormally monosyllabic responses and then with gentleness that she hadn't known that she possessed, she moves the older woman down towards the cushions and then – after meeting Regina's eyes and getting a nod of permission from her – she moves atop her, sighing as their still obnoxiously cloth covered breasts press up against each other.
"I really like you in this shirt," Emma mumbles as she finishes unbuttoning it for the second time in the last few hours. "I'm less fond of the underwear, though, I have to admit."
Regina laughs and it makes Emma do the same in response.
"I hope that you know you are," she tells Regina, then.
"I am what?"
"Perfect," Emma says, meeting her eyes with such passionate determination and emotional ferocity. "That awful son of a bitch can't have that word for you, Regina. Not anymore."
"You think it's so easy to defeat old demons, do you?" Though Emma doesn't know it, this is a familiar question for Regina. She'd asked it of Snow once not too long ago, though in a different way and then about the naïve princess's perceived lack of difficulty in regards to change.
"Not easy, but doable. And if it's not, well I am the Savior, and I've gotten pretty goddamned good with a sword as of late," Emma tells her between gentle quick kisses across the heated flesh of the queen's jawline. "I have no problem taking a few demons out if I need to."
"What you are, is an idiot," Regina says with a clear amount of affection.
"Yeah, but I'm pretty much your idiot after all of this."
"Indeed you are. Now, how about you use that mouth for something more interesting than telling me about your skills," Regina requests. "Or are you the one making threats now?"
"As you said, promises, not threats," Emma answers before she sweeps down and makes it her mission to make Regina scream as loudly as the queen had made her scream just hours before.
She succeeds.
The sun is attempting to rise the next time Emma comes to. Unfortunately for it, though, the sky is covered in dark clouds and it is raining much harder now, cold water slapping loudly against the roof and the glass windows. "Are you awake?" she softly asks the older woman who is tucked against her, her back rested against Emma's chest. Emma's arms are wound lightly around Regina's midsection, her hands covered up by both of the queen's slender ones.
"I am," Regina replies, her voice throaty and hoarse in a way that makes Emma grin and then chuckle. "Stop that," she hears Regina mumble back at her. "I can feel it."
"Feel what?"
"Your satisfaction with yourself. It's utterly obnoxious."
"I'm just saying, you sound like you've been screaming. I like it."
"Mm."
"How long have you been up?"
"For awhile. I've always enjoyed the sound of the rain. It's peaceful."
"Yeah," Emma agrees. "So do I want to know what you're thinking about?"
"Henry."
"You're naked in front of –"
"Yes, and this blanket is far too scratchy in such a state," Regina observes.
Emma rolls her eyes, and plows on, "You're naked and beautiful in front of me right now," as if to properly punctuate this, she ghosts a hand over one of Regina's breasts, the tips of her fingers lightly passing over a nipple, causing Regina to inhale sharply. "And you're thinking about our son instead of finding a way to wake me up in a manner that I'd totally appreciate."
Regina rolls around on the couch to face her, and then after allowing for a small but incredibly honest smile, she leans over and kisses Emma soundly and passionately, making sure that the kiss expresses her feelings about what had occurred between them, and about what it means to her. "Good morning, Sheriff," she whispers once they part. "And now you're awake."
"Not exactly what I had in mind, but I'll happily take it. For now, anyway," Emma replies with the kind of impish grin a horny teenager might have as she considers how the rest of her day might go for her. "So why are you thinking about Henry? Something you're worried about?"
"He'll be home this afternoon."
"Which is good right because we miss our kid, and we didn't really want him to be spending time with Neal, anyway and…I'm a complete doofus because this is about us and what happened last night, right?"
"What do we tell him?" Regina queries.
"Do we have to tell him anything?"
"I guess that depends on what this is."
"Right. Well, I think maybe I'd like to find out."
"He might not approve. You are the Savior and I am the Evil Queen."
"No, you're his mom and I'm his mom, and I have to believe that above everything else – all of the stupid titles – are meaningless; he just wants us to be happy."
"He might not believe I'll make you happy. He might think I'll hurt you." Regina swallows hard when she says this, like the idea of this pains her. It's an amazing realization for both of these women, and a vivid reminder of just how far they've come and just how much everything has changed for them.
"He loves you."
"I know he does, but that doesn't mean he trusts me with you."
"But I do, and really that's all that actually matters here," Emma replies before she leans forward and kisses Regina gently. When she pulls back just a bit, she continues with, "Look, I love our kid to death, Regina but if there's even a small chance that this could be something special, then I don't think I'm willing to walk away from it just because it might take Henry some time to figure out if he's okay with it. But…if you need to do that, if you want to not do this –"
"I do. I want to. I just…I don't want him to hate me." Her voice weakens at the end, a soft admission of just how vulnerable she feels when it comes to Henry's perception of her.
"I think we're way past that, and I think if we tell him together, if we're truthful with him and let him know that we're still just figuring things out and we don't know what will happen, then I think maybe he'll support us. I think it's worth a try, anyway.
"Okay, assuming that's true…what about everyone else?"
"You mean my mother."
"If we're…if I'm very lucky, Henry might understand that there's something happening here and we want to..." she trails off, her uncertainty so blatant. Swallowing, she continues, "He might. Your mother never will," Regina states with a deep kind of worry in her eyes. There's fear there, too, and Emma finds that it almost physically hurts to see this; Regina is presuming rejection from everyone and the sad thing is that outside of she and Henry, the former is probably right. "And as much as there is an appeal in staying here forever, we both know it's time to go home."
Emma shrugs her shoulders. "So we keep it to ourselves for now. Henry needs to know because he's going to be with us all the time and he's a smart kid, and we promised him the truth above everything else, but I see no reason why anyone else needs to know a minute before we are ready to tell them. Whatever this is, and I don't think either one of us is ready to put a name to it yet, it's between us and I think I'm okay with letting it stay there for now. Are you?"
"I…I am."
"Good. Then how about you close your eyes, and I close mine, and you just let me hold you, and we fall asleep to the sound of the rain, okay?" She nuzzles into Regina's neck as she says this.
"Things are going to get hard this afternoon," Regina reminds her, her eyes already drifting closed as she turns herself around in Emma's arms so that's facing outwards. With one of her hands, she pulls the brown blanket up and over them. Yes, it's scratchy, but it feels like it's theirs, and though Regina has never been the most overly sentimental person in the world, there's something to be said about enjoying the things that they share.
"Probably, but we'll deal with all of that later," Emma counters before pressing her lips against Regina's shoulder. She moves her fingers into Regina's and then presses their hands together over the queen's hard abdomen, their palms settling lightly against the warm skin there.
"Okay," comes the mumbled answer and then seconds later, Emma feels the gentle way that Regina's breathing evens out to signify that she's sleeping.
Emma smiles slightly, drops another light kiss down, and then tucks her face against Regina's, cheek to cheek as she holds the older woman against her.
She doesn't know what this afternoon will bring with Henry and Neal returning to the house; it probably will be hard and talking to their son about their new relationship might be painful and rough. It could hurt them both if she's wrong, and Henry outright rejects the very idea of a "them"; more than that, though, it could cause Regina to retreat away from her completely.
So she hopes she's right because she thinks that maybe – just maybe – it's time for the universe to cut them all a break and let them find their way towards some kind of happiness.
Even if that happiness is that which exists between a broken Savior and a fallen Queen.