A/N: I know, I promised two updates, and there is only one, but I am writing out more chapters. Plus, I like to keep you guys in suspense. ;) Here is another honeymoon chapter for your enjoyment! Thank you all for your amazing reviews, as always. Happy reading!

Keep the reviews coming! It feeds an author's soul. :) I promise a double, maybe even triple update soon!

Regina stares in horror in the mirror. She has red marks. Hickeys! She is married to one of the most respected businesswoman in the United States, and Emma has given her fucking hickeys. How did she not feel this happening? The fact is she knows exactly why- Mrs. Newly-wed Orgasmic was using her fine motor sexing skills on her.

She blinks, observing herself in the mirror. Her wrists have red marks from the handcuffs. No doubt they'll bruise. Regina examines her ankles- more red marks. Okay, so she knew the handcuffs would surely mark her. That was to be expected, Emma did warn her- but these hickeys?! They were unacceptable. She gazes at herself, trying to absorb how she looks. Her body has been different these past few days she has been married… it's changed since she's known Emma. She's become leaner and fitter, and her hair is glossy and well cut. Her nails- have always been manicured- but now they were expensively manicured. Her feet pedicured, her eyebrows threaded and beautifully shaped. For the first time in her life, Regina is all and well groomed- except for the hideous love marks.

She is mad. How dare Emma mark her like this, like some hormonal teenager? In the short time they've been together, Emma has never even once given her a hickey. She knows why she's done this, of course, damn control freak.

Regina stalks out of the en suite bathroom and into the walk-in closet, carefully avoiding even to glance in Emma's direction. Slipping out of her robe, she pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a camisole. She undoes the braid, picks up a hairbrush from the small vanity unit, and brushes out the tangles with forceful, angry strokes.

"Regina," Emma calls and Regina can hear the anxiety in her voice. "Are you okay?"

Am I okay? She chuckles, ignoring her completely. After what Emma did to her, she doubts she will be able to wear a swimsuit or one of her ridiculously expensive bikinis for the rest of her honeymoon. The thought is suddenly so infuriating. How dare she do this? She is seething, oh, I'll give you an okay, Swan. If Emma wanted to behave like some hormonal teenager, Regina could easily behave like one too.

Her eyes lock on the hairbrush she's holding. She steps back into the bedroom, throwing the hairbrush directly at her adolescent behaving wife, turns and leaves- but not before she sees her shocked expression and her lightning reaction as Emma raises her arm to protect her head so that the brush bounces ineffectively off her forearm and onto the bed.

Regina storms out of their cabin, up the stairs and out on deck, fleeing toward the bow. She needs some space to calm down. It's dark and the air is balmy. The Fair Lady glides effortlessly through the calm cobalt sea as Regina rests her elbows on the wooden railing, gazing at the distant shore where tiny lights wink and twinkle. She takes a slow, healing breath and slowly begins to calm down. She's aware of Emma standing behind her, before she even hears her.

"You're mad at me," she whispers.

"No shit, Captain Obvious!"

"How mad?"

"From a scale of one to ten, I think I'm at fifty."

"That mad." Emma sounds surprised and impressed at the same time.

"Yes, that mad," she says through gritted teeth.

Emma stays silent as Regina turns and scowls right at her, seeing her wife's green eyes staring at her with worry. Regina knows that from the blonde's expression and because she's made no move try and touch her, that she is out of her depth here.

"Emma, you have to stop unilaterally trying to bring me to heel. You made your point on the beach. Very effectively, as I recall."

The blonde shrugs minutely. "Well, you won't take your top off again," she murmurs petulantly.

"And this justifies what you've done to me?" The vein in Regina's forehead is ready to pop. "I don't like you leaving marks on me. Well, not this many, anyway. It's a hard limit!" She hisses at her, using the one language she knows Emma would understand.

"I don't like you taking your clothes off in public. That's a hard limit for me," she growls.

"I think we've established that," Regina hisses through her teeth. "Look at me!" She pulls down her camisole to reveal the top of her breasts.

Emma's eyes widen, her eyes not leaving her wife's face, her expression wary and uncertain. She's not used to seeing the brunette this mad.

Why doesn't she say anything, damn it? Her silence makes Regina want to shout at her, but holds back. Because God only knows how Emma would react to a lot of shouting. And besides, they were still on their honeymoon- they weren't even supposed to be fighting, but here they were. Fighting.

Emma sighs, running a hand through her hair and holding her palms up in a resigned gesture. "Okay," she says, her voice placating. "I get it."

Finally! Some common ground!

"Good!"

Emma runs another hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me." Finally, she looks contrite.

"You behave like such an adolescent sometimes," she colds at her wife, but the fight has gone out of her voice, and Emma knows it.

The blonde steps closer, raising her hand to tuck a strand of jet black hair behind Regina's ear. "I know," she acknowledges softly. "I have a lot to learn."

Suddenly, Dr. Hopper's words come back to play inside Regina's mind. 'Emotionally, Emma is an adolescent, Gina. She bypassed that phase in her life totally. She's channeled all of her energies into succeeding in the business world, and she has beyond all expectations. Her emotional world has to play catch-up.'

His words make her heart sink a little. "We both do." Regina sighs, raising her hand and placing it over Emma's heart. She feels her stiffen a little this time, but she doesn't pull back like she used to.

Emma rests her hand over her wife's, smiling her shy smile. "I've just learned that you have a good arm and a good aim, Mrs. Swan. I would never have figured that, but then I constantly underestimate you. You always surprise me."

The brunette's brow arches upward. "Target practice with my father. I can throw and shoot straight, Mrs. Swan, and you'd do well to remember that."

"I will endeavor to do that, Mrs. Swan, or ensure that all potential projectile objects are nailed down and that you don't have access to a gun." She smirks.

Regina mirrors her smirk, her eyes narrowed. "I'm resourceful."

"That you are," Emma whispers and releases her hand to circle her arms around her wife's form. Pulling her into an embrace, she buries her nose into her hair. She feels Regina's arms wrap around her, holding her equally close.

Regina can feel the tension leave the blonde's body.

"Am I forgiven?" Says Emma.

"Am I?"

The blonde smiles. "Yes," she answers.

"Then, yes." Regina smiles, wrapping her arms more tighter around Emma, inhaling her sweet, intoxicating scent. Why must she smell so good? It made it impossible to resist her. And her anger vanish in the split of a second.

"Hungry?" Emma asks.

Regina nods, her head placed against the blonde's chest. "Famished. All of that… activity has given me an appetite. But I'm not dressed for dinner."

"You look good to me, Regina. Besides, it's our boat for the week. We can dress how we like. Think of it as dress down Tuesday on the Cote D'Azur. Anyway, I thought we'd eat on deck."

"I'd like that."

They share a kiss. A forgive-me type of kiss and wander hand in hand to their dinner for the evening.

The steward serves their creme brulee and directly retires.

"Why do you always braid my hair?" Regina asks Emma out of curiosity.

They are sitting adjacent to one another at the table, the brunette's lower leg is curled around Emma's.

Emma pauses as she's about to pick up her dessertspoon and frowns. "I don't want your hair catching in anything," she says quietly and for a moment, she's lost in thought. "Habit, I think," she muses.

What could be the reason? Surely there was one, judging from Emma's lost expression. As if it were something that had to do with her past from when she was a child. Whatever it was, that part of her life was always too painful for her, and Regina didn't want her remembering it. Not here. Not now.

"It doesn't matter. I don't need to know." Regina shook her head, reaching for Emma's hand. "I was just curious." She gives her wife a warm and reassuring smile. She leans in once Emma visibly relaxes, placing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I love you," she whispers, seeing a smile stretch out on Emma's lips. A smile that makes her melt away. "I will always love you, Emma."

"And I you," Emma says softly.

"In spite of my disobedience?" Regina arches a brow.

"Because of your disobedience, Regina." She grins.

Regina cracks her spoon through her crusted dessert, shaking her head with a matching grin of her own. Will I ever begin to understand you?

Once their dessert plates are cleared, Emma reaches for their bottle of wine and refills both their glasses. While Regina checks that they are completely left alone before she asks what else piqued her curiosity.

"Why didn't you want me going to the bathroom earlier?"

"You really want to know?" Emma sports a half smile, her eyes alight with a salacious gleam.

"Do I?" She asks through a raised brow, taking a sip of her wine.

"The fuller your bladder, the more intense your orgasm, Gina."

Oh. Regina blinks. Well, that certainly explains a lot.

Emma smirks, catching the blush creeping up her wife's cheeks. She takes pity on her by changing conversation quickly. "What do you want to do for the rest of the evening?"

"Whatever you want," Regina shrugs. How about putting your bathroom theory to the test again?

"I know what I want to do," she murmurs. Grabbing her glass of wine, she rises and holds her hand out to her wife. "Come."

Regina takes her hand and Emma leads her into the main salon.

She connects her phone to a blue tooth speaker placed on a dresser, switches it on and quickly selects a song. A Latin song! The song Havana starts playing out, surprising Regina, because of course she knew this song. She just didn't expect Emma to know it. The female singer starts by singing in English before singing in Spanish along with another male companion.

"Dance with me," Emma pulls her close.

"If you insist." Regina smirks, because of course Emma could dance to Latin music. She knew how to dance everything.

"I insist, Mrs. Swan." Emma grins, starting to move, sweeping the brunette off of her feet, and taking her with her around the salon.

Dancing with Emma was like walking on air! She moved so rhythmically to the music, spinning her around the salon, dipping her, causing Regina to yelp in surprise, holding her and moving to the beat while standing behind her. And all with her Emma-like smile plastered across her face, with that glow in her eyes that could only be described as happiness and love.

Regina had to admit, if there was something she had to thank Mal for- it would be this- teaching Emma how to dance. The woman really knew her stuff, if Emma learned from her and she was this great of a dancer. As well as teaching her how to fuck. That thought makes her cringe, but it was true. She hadn't thought about the woman at any time during their honeymoon, nor has Emma brought her up in conversations any longer. And as far as their business relationship went, it really was over- to Regina's knowledge.

Emma dips her again, this time planting a kiss right on her lips.

Regina holds onto her wife's body, dancing sensually along to the music even as they stand upright, their lips never parting from one another.

As they part, Emma's eyes are dark and luminous, all humor gone, and suddenly Regina finds herself being breathless.

"Come to bed with me?" Emma whispers, and it's a heartfelt plea.

Regina knows this is Emma's way of an apology and making sure all was well between them after their spat. And she would gladly accept it on any given day or night. Especially when life was perfect by her side.

When Regina wakes the next morning, the sun is shining through the portholes and the water reflects shimmering patterns onto the cabin ceiling. Emma is nowhere to be seen. She stretches out and smiles, a grin so wide it hurts her cheeks. Oh, how she loved Emma's punishment fucks, but a punishment fuck followed by make-up sex was surely the best. She marvels in the feeling of what it's like to be in bed with two different women. There was angry Emma and then there was sweet let-me-make-it-up-to-you-in-any-way-I-can Emma. It was a tough decision in deciding which of the two she liked best.

Regina makes her way out of the bed, making her way into the bathroom, her eyes grow wide as she discovers that Emma is shaving… down there… oh.

There she was, showered, naked, standing with a mirror placed right in front of her, razor in hand. Regina watches her, running the razor again and again through her pubic hair. Very slowly, very carefully. Her legs looked smooth, no doubt from having shaved them first. Regina's head tilts as her body leans against the doorway.

"Enjoying the show?" she asks.

I could watch you for hours. "One of my all time favorites," Regina murmurs, smiling as her wife leans down to kiss her quickly, smearing some shaving cream against her nose with a single index finger.

"Shall I do this to you again?" Emma grins wickedly and holds up the razor.

Regina purses her lips at her. "No," she mutters. "I'll wax next time, thank you." The memory of the time Emma shaved her sex came to mind. It was a first for both of them, and as always, her wife was very persuasive. It was… an arousing experience.

"It sure was fun," Emma smirks, rinsing the razor.

"For you, maybe." Regina chuckles, suddenly coming up with an idea for payback. "Wouldn't it better if you lay down?"

"Yes, but I didn't want to wake you."

Regina reached for the razor, the bowl with shaving cream and a towel. "Come."

"What are you doing? I'm not finished yet." Emma joins her wife in the bedroom, watching her.

"Lay down." She grins.

Emma hesitates. "Gina," she warns, as she realizes the woman's intentions.

Regina walks over to her, setting the items on the nightstand before placing a quick kiss on thin lips. "On the bed." She lays out the towel on the bed.

"You know what you're doing?" Emma looks amused, doing as she's told, she sits on the unmade bed, laying back, placing her hips carefully on the towel that was laid out for her.

Regina shakes her head, deliberately, trying to look as serious as possible.

Emma closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"Tit for tat, Mrs. Swan." The brunette smirks, playfully. She moves back into the bathroom to gather a bowl filled with water, placing it aside. She takes a seat next to her naked wife, who is miraculously going to allow her to shave her. Wow! She grabs the bowl with the shaving cream and a brush.

Emma could hear the scrubbing of the brush against the bowl. Her body tenses at the sudden contact of the brush spreading shaving cream against her sex.

Regina places the brush back inside the bowl and sets it aside, grabbing a hold of the razor next. "Okay. Here we go." She places the razor, very slowly against her wife's sex and moves it downward. Her eyes are on Emma, taking notice on how her body suddenly tenses.

Rinsing the razor, she goes again. Very slowly.

This was a first for Regina, she had never had to shave anyone before, except for her father once. But there was a major difference in shaving a beard to shaving a woman's pubic hair. The only experience she had from shaving it was from shaving her own. It took everything for her hand not to shake.

It amazed her how at ease Emma seemed, not intimidated at all. She really was proud of her nakedness.

"Did you think I was going to hurt you?" Regina asks, breaking the silence.

"I never know what you're going to do, Gina, but no- not intentionally."

The brunette slides the razor down again, rinsing and cleaning, repeating the process.

"I would never intentionally hurt you, Emma." She feels Emma's thumb gently caressing at her thigh.

"I know."

"Alright, this is the tricky part. Spread 'em." Regina smirks, loving how that word sounds coming out of her for a change.

Emma chuckles, spreading her legs and propping her knees up. She sighs and closes her eyes, simply feeling the razor gently being driven by Regina against her vaginal lips, moving with easy strokes again and again, until she was completely done.

"All done, and not a drop of blood spilled." She grins proudly.

Emma props up on her elbows, looking down at her smoothly shaved sex. She sits up, her hands sliding up her wife's thighs until her fingers grab onto her and pull her so that she straddles her.

Regina's arms wrap around the blonde's neck.

"Can I take you somewhere today?" Asks Emma.

"No sun bathing today?"

"No. No sunbathing today. I thought you might prefer something else."

"Well, since you've covered me in hickeys and effectively put the kibosh on that, sure, why not?"

Wisely, Emma chooses to ignore her wife's tone. "It's a drive, but it's worth a visit from what I've read. My dad recommended we visit. It's a hilltop village called Saint-Paul-de-Vence. There are some galleries there. I thought we could pick out some paintings or sculptures for the new house, if we find anything we like."

Regina's lips part as she gazes at her wife. She's never bought art before, that was always more her parents thing.

"What?" Asks Emma.

"I'm no expert on the subject, Emma."

Emma shrugs and smiles. "We'll buy only what we like. This isn't about investment. I know we only got the architect's drawings the other day- but there's no harm in looking, and the town is an ancient, medieval place."

Oh, the architect. She had to mention her… Zelena Green, a friend of Ruby's who worked on Emma's place in Aspen. And another one for the Emma Swan fan club. During their meetings, she's been all over Emma like a rash.

"What now?" Emma exclaims. "Tell me," she urges after Regina shakes her head.

How could she possibly tell Emma that she doesn't like Zelena? The last thing she wanted to come across as, was a jealous wife.

"You're not still mad about what I did yesterday?" Emma sighs, nuzzling her face between her wife's breasts.

"No. I'm just hungry." She mutters.

"Why didn't you say?" She eases the brunette off her lap and stands.

Saint-Paul-de-Vence is a fortified medieval hilltop village, one of the most picturesque places one could ever see. Both newly-weds stroll arm in arm through the narrow cobblestone streets. Regina's hand is tucked inside Emma's back pocket of her jeans. Gold and the other two French bodyguards- trail right behind them. They pass a tree-covered square where three old men, one wearing a traditional beret in spite of the heat, are playing boules. The place was quite crowded with tourists, but Regina feels comfortable tucked under Emma's arm. There is so much more to see. Little alleys and passageways leading to courtyards with intricate stone fountains, ancient and modern sculptures, and fascinating little boutiques and shops.

In the first gallery, Emma gazes distractedly at the erotic photographs in front of them, sucking gently on the arm of her aviator specs. They are the work of Florence D'elle. Naked women in various poses.

"Not quite what I had in mind," Regina mumbles disapprovingly. They make her think of the box of photographs she found in her closet, their closet. She then wonders if Emma ever did shred them.

"Me neither," Emma says, grinning down at her disapproving wife. She takes her hand and they stroll to the next artist.

The next display is by a female artist who specializes in still lifes- fruit and vegetables super close up and in rich, glorious color.

"I like those." Regina points to three paintings of onions. "They remind me of you chopping vegetables in my apartment." She giggles.

Emma's mouth twists as she tries and fails to hide her amusement. "I thought I managed that quite competently," she mutters. "I was just a bit slow, and anyway"- she pulls Regina into an embrace- "you were distracting me." She smirks. "Where would you put them?"

"What?"

She nuzzles Regina's ear. "The paintings- where would you put them?" She bites her earlobe and Regina can feel it in her groin.

"Kitchen," She murmurs.

"Hmm. Nice idea, Mrs. Swan."

Regina's eyes focus on the price. Five thousand euros each. What?! "They're really expensive!" She gasps.

"So?" Emma nuzzles her one last time. "Get used to it, Gina." She releases her wife and saunters over to the desk where a young woman dressed entirely in white is gaping at her.

Another one for the Emma Swan fan club. Regina wants to roll her eyes, but instead she turns her attention back to the paintings. And their price. Five thousand euros… shit.

They finish lunch and are relaxing over coffee at the Hotel Le Saint Paul. The view of the surrounding countryside is stunning. Vineyards and fields of sunflowers from a patchwork across the plain, interspersed here and there with neat little French farmhouses. It's such a clear, beautiful day, they can see all the way to sea, glinting faintly on the horizon.

"You asked me why I braid your hair," Emma murmurs, interrupting the brunette's observations.

Regina nods. "Yes."

"The prostitute used to let me play with her hair, I think. I don't know if it's a memory or a dream."

Wow. Regina's heart jumps to her throat. "I actually like it when you play with my hair." She says.

Emma regards her with uncertainty. "Do you?"

"Yes." She grasps her wife's hand. "I think you loved your birth mother, Emma."

The blonde's eyes widen as she remains quiet. The silence lingers so long between them, Regina almost feels like she shouldn't have made that comment at all. Especially once Emma's gaze drops to look at their joined hands across the table.

"Say something," Regina whispers, because she can't bear the silence any longer.

Emma shakes her head, exhaling deeply. "Let's go." She releases her wife's hand and stands, her expression guarded.

As they exit the restaurant from the hotel, the silence continues, until Regina feels Emma's hand search for hers and grasp it.

"Where do you want to go?" Asks the blonde, filling Regina with relief that she's finally speaking again, and doesn't sound one bit angry.

Yes, Emma loved her biological mother, but she also hated her. It was complicated. But that was something she wasn't about to discuss, not here, not now. This moment, this whole trip was about her and the woman she loved. Not her neglectful prostitute mother. And truth be told, it wasn't her favorite topic for conversation. She decided to let Regina in on her hair braiding obsession because as her wife, she felt she owed her that much.

Regina shrugs, tucking her hand behind Emma's back pocket again, loving the feeling of being securely tucked under her wife's embrace. "I'm just glad you're still talking to me."

"Of course I am." Emma's hand comes up to caress her wife's cheek. "You know I just don't like talking about that stuff. It's over. Finished." She says quietly.

Oh, Emma… my sweet, sweet Emma. It will never be over. Regina knew that was a part of her life, her dark past that Emma had to properly put behind. But she wasn't about to push her to do so either.

They walk along a few shops when Emma stops outside one in particular. It was a jewelry shop. And something definitely caught her eye, her head turning toward the shop window and then back to Regina.

She grabbed a hold of the woman's right wrist, her thumb gently caressing along the red mark left behind by the handcuffs.

"It's not sore," Regina reassures her. It really wasn't, but she watches as Emma pulls her other hand out of her jeans pocket, inspecting it closely and seeing the red mark that was covered by her platinum watch on her wrist. That watch was a gift from Emma on the first morning they spent in London.

The inscription on it still makes Regina smile.

Regina

You Are My More

My Love, My Life

Emma

Regina's eyes catch a glimpse of the swan pendant hanging around Emma's neck. Her birthday gift, her long awaited answer inscribed on the back of it. Emma had kept her promise. She never takes it off. It always hangs proudly around her neck.

In spite of everything, in all of her shades of gray- Emma could be quite the romantic. Regina has witnessed that first hand.

The brunette glances down at the faint red marks on her wrists. Then again, Emma could also be a savage too. In bed, of course. But she didn't mind that one bit. She feels as her wife's hand tucked underneath her chin, lifting her head up to meet her gaze. The green eyes before her looked troubled.

"They don't hurt," she repeats. She watches as Emma pulls her hand up to her lips and plants a soft apologetic kiss on the inside of her wrist.

"Come," she says and leads Regina into the shop.

"Here." Emma holds open the platinum bracelet she's just purchased. It's exquisite, so delicately crafted, the filigree in the shape of small abstract flowers with small diamonds at their hearts. She fastens it around her wife's wrist. It's wide and cuff-like and hides the red marks. "That's better," she murmurs.

"Better?" Regina whispers, catching a glimpse of the sales assistant who was looking at them with a jealous and disapproving look.

"You know why," Says the blonde.

"I don't need this." Regina shakes her wrist, causing the cuff to move.

"You do," she says with sincerity.

Why? Because of the marks? Oh, Emma…

"Emma," she pauses, giving the assistant a quick glance, her voice a whisper. "It's the hickeys I don't like. What you did, with the handcuffs… I loved that. You could do it to me anytime. It was actually quite mind-blowing."

"Mind-blowing?" Emma smirks, bringing the brunette's hand up to her lips again and placing a gentle kiss right on her wrist. "I still want you to have it."

"You've given me so much already. A magical honeymoon, London, Paris, the Cote D'Azur… and you. I'm a very lucky woman," she whispers, watching green eyes soften before her.

"No, Regina, I'm the lucky one."

Regina smiles, "Thank you." She wraps her arms around Emma's neck and plants a kiss to her lips. But not for giving her the bracelet, but for being hers.

Both pull away from one another as Emma's phone rings, vibrating inside her pocket. Emma pulls her phone out, glancing down at her watch to see the time, she frowns.

"Barney," she snaps.

Regina tries to give her some privacy and wants to move to look inside the shop some more, but feels Emma's arm hold her in place, wanting her close.

"In the server room?" She says in disbelief. "Did it activate the fire suppression system?"

Regina's ears perk up this time. Was there a fire? Where?

"Anyone injured? Damage? I see… When?" Emma glances at her watch again, then runs her hand through her hair. "No. Not the fire department or the police. Not yet anyway."

A fire in Emma's office? Regina follows Emma outside the shop, where Gold is soon standing, listening in on the conversation.

"Has he? Good… Okay. I want a detailed damage report. And a complete rundown of everyone who had access over the last five days, including the cleaning staff… Get hold of Ingrid and get her to call me… Yeah, sounds like the argon is just as effective, worth its weight in gold. Email me in two hours. Thank you for calling me." She hangs up the phone, nods at Gold who quickly rushes toward the car. Her eyes fall on Regina.

"Was anyone hurt?" The brunette asks.

Emma shakes her head, "Very little damage." she reaches over for her hand, clasping it in hers. "Don't worry about this. My team is on it." And there she is, the CEO, in command, in control, and not flustered at all.

"Where was the fire?"

"Server room."

"At Swan Enterprises?"

"Yes." Emma sighs. "Gina, please… don't worry."

"I'm not worried," she lies.

"We don't know for sure that it was arson," the blonde says. She pulls open the passenger door for her wife to get in. "Come," she holds out her hand, helping her inside, climbing right in soon after.

Inside the vehicle Regina can't think of anything more than to cuddle up under Emma's embrace. She scoops all the way up on her lap, her arms wrap around her neck. Of course she was going to worry about what had happened back at Emma's company. She was her wife. Whatever worried or troubled her, did the same for Regina.

First Charlie Tango and now the company.

What's next?