"-Hold out your hand."
Regina does as she's told with a caution that speaks not of a nervousness or apprehension of the blonde, but rather a nervousness for her. She is crucially aware that- provided Emma isn't messing around this time- this is quite a major marker in their relationship, and as such she resolves to let the younger woman direct this curious exchange entirely.
That said, she suffers a moment's pause, as, with the Sheriff's curious request she wonders if Emma plans to cuff her. The thought has an explicit effect on the delicate lace that covers her sex, but she is also wary. She has seen firsthand the effect those simple silver bracelets can have on the blonde; her reaction alarming enough when she had played victim in the brunette's own study at the very beginning of their sordid tryst, but the damage to her wrists and state of mind following her ordeal with Gold now leave the Queen debating whether she should speak up and opt out. She wants to know what Emma has in store- and the anticipation of finding out has her clenching her legs together in an attempt to appease the wanton ache the Sheriff is so adept at invoking within her- but she refuses to let the blonde find herself in a position where she feels she has to deliver something she is uncomfortable with just for the sake of making good on her flippant teasing.
She appreciates Emma's trust.
But not her occasional stupidity.
It appears her apprehension is unfounded however, as the blonde proceeds to simply take a hold of her wrist before frowning and looking around the room, making a pensive noise with her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Seeming to solve whatever conundrum she faces, she mutters that the Mayor should stay put, and hops from the bed. Proceeding to pluck the brunette's travel bag from the rickety dresser in the corner, she offers the darker woman a brief glance for approval before delving through the clothes and items within; Regina clenching her jaw as neatly folded garments are rummaged through carelessly.
She says nothing.
She wants to know where this is all going, and there is something about the way the harsh, unflattering light of the- now muted- depravity on screen flickers over slim, pale limbs and makes the younger woman's hair glow almost white that leaves her willing to forgive this small annoyance.
Ah, but then, if it came to it, I suppose I would forgive the woman almost anything.
"What do you need, dear?"
But Emma glances up with a small smile that sends a shiver down the brunette's spine; a slight shake of her head silencing the Mayor instantly.
Between her fingers, the younger woman plays with the silken fabric of a pretty neck-scarf; not something the Queen has packed to wear, but rather an item gifted to her by Henry several years ago which she has since kept neatly tied around the handle of her toiletries bag. As the blonde makes her way back to the bed, there is something unquestionably predatory in the way she moves, and the brunette's excitement heightens almost unbearably as lean muscle ripples tantalizingly; Emma seeming to stretch out and loosen her limbs as she walks as though readying for a curiously athletic endeavor.
Perching back onto the sagging mattress, the blonde takes Regina's hand gently in hers to bring it up to hover between them, before changing her grip so that she clutches the brunette's slim wrist. She moves her arm slightly to coax the darker woman into reciprocating the gesture, but doesn't speak.
"What are you-"
But the Queen hushes without request. The look Emma offers her causes her to shift just a little so that the heel of her foot presses gently against her throbbing center, as intoxicating green studies her dangerously; only the thinnest rim of emerald visible around blown pupils, black with a lustful darkness that has the Mayor thinking suddenly on the flashing silver of the letter opener in the pot on her desk back home.
Biting her lip in a way for which she knows she has the Sheriff entirely to blame, she watches intently as the younger woman laces the silken scarf around their entwined hands; winding a complex pattern with surprisingly dexterous ease. When she completes working the colorful fabric around slender wrists, Emma leans forward to tie the loose ends together with the aid of her teeth; hot breath ghosting gently over soft skin.
Unable to help herself, the brunette leans forwards to brush her lips against the blonde's. The Sheriff allows her to do so for the briefest of moments before pulling back to regard her levelly; her expression unusually cold.
"Try to get free."
Brow furrowing slightly, Regina does as she's told, pulling at their shared restraint tentatively at first, before giving it a much harder yank which serves to bring the younger woman falling into her.
She expects a laugh- Emma always so quick to find amusement in such small slip ups- but she doesn't get one.
Instead, she gets a slow smile, and she swiftly forces herself to keep from begging the Sheriff to just hurry up and fuck her already; the lace between her thighs sordidly damp due to this curious little scenario.
"Now, I guess I'm ad-libbing a bit here, but I can speak only for myself when I say neither of us is prepared to shiv the other?"
"... Are you teasing again?"
"Not yet... No, the way this should work is that each of us would have a weapon in her free hand... No running, limited sneaky tricks, but an undeniably simple fight until one of us would end up incapacitated."
"... Charming."
"Please rephrase."
A low chuckle.
"Delightful, dear... However, as you and I are not about to fight it out to a bloody finish, nor use weaponry on each other, what do you propose we do? As right now, much as I love you, I feel as though we are simply being forced to remain unnecessarily close to one another... And if we are to be forced into such close quarters, I really feel you would benefit greatly from me being able to use both of my hands..."
The brunette sniffs, but the arrogance in her tone falters slightly. She doesn't truly believe the blonde will have tied them up the way she has merely to pull another bluff.
Again with that slow smile, and suddenly she knows this isn't a case of simply holding hands for story time.
"Oh, but the greatest travesties come at their perportrator's hands..."
"...In English?"
"I never said we wouldn't use weapons."
Smirking at the look of irritable incomprehension the Mayor offers her, the Sheriff wiggles the fingers of her free hand pointedly.
"Right... So your 'showing me the ways of prison' is that fun was generally had one-handed? I understand the similarity to your little weapons tale, but-"
"-Ah!"
Emma admonishes harshly, moving in so that she kneels with her face close enough to the brunette's to kiss. To bite.
"Stop. You wanted to know, and I'm going to show you-"
"-Yes, but-"
"-Shut up, and tell me two things. No rambling."
"You do not tell me to shut-"
"-Regina!"
"... Go on..."
"Do you trust me?"
"I told you so only moments ago. You-"
"-Do you understand that what you've asked for is a scenario... You're not the Queen for this, understand?"
"...Yes... Are you... Are you going to hurt me?"
The brunette's inquiry is quiet, her expression apprehensive, but the fingers of her free hand play over the smooth skin of the younger woman's bare thigh in a teasing fashion.
"... I won't permanently or visibly mark you."
"... Wait... Does that mean-"
But her words give way to a yelp as the Sheriff gives a vicious yank of her wrist and pulls the Mayor- stumbling- to her feet; the brunette barely managing to keep herself from falling due to her shock at this sudden movement. Crying out a little louder as she is shoved brutally against the wall, dark eyes widen as the blonde hisses cruelly into her ear.
"-Maybe."
And with that, skilled fingers begin ripping at her negligee forcefully; pushing soft silk up the Mayor's shivering frame as the latter attempts to push the younger woman off of her.
And now she understands the power of the restraint.
Groaning as the Sheriff's mouth finds her throat, she closes her eyes as a slim thigh wedges itself dominantly between her legs; and she grinds against proffered bare flesh wantonly. The fury with which Emma touches her and grabs at her is something she has never experienced, but she finds that any fear the situation should plausibly cause her is greatly subdued by the familiar scent of honey that lingers in thick curls. By the light tickle of the younger woman's longer necklace ghosting her flesh in a way she has come to know so well. By the telling line of the blonde's scar as she runs her own fingers up beneath flimsy cotton.
The elbow of her bound hand is pinned ruthlessly against peeling wallpaper, and she is unsurprised when she is unable to push back as she has allowed her fingers to tour hard lines of lean muscle often enough to have an idea of the Sheriff's strength.
Slim hips crash into hers and she is thankful that it is Emma's deserted room on the other side of the wall, as the mundane pictures hanging a metre beside the two of them shake warningly in their frames.
Strong fingers battle deftly beneath dripping lace and enter her without warning.
She is certain that Emma only does so as the debauched wetness causing a pale thigh to glisten where it had been pushed up against her aching centre had been a give-away that she was more than ready.
Almost certain.
"Oh, g-god, oh-"
The pace with which the blonde teases her reminds her of her own antics back in the jail cell, and she is sure that at any other time she would appreciate the irony of the fact, but right now she is unable to think on anything but the way slim fingers slide easily between her slick folds while the younger woman's thumb circles her need ruthlessly.
Shakily moving her own free hand between them to slip beneath the waistband of cheap shorts, she emits a choked cry as the act is instantly reprimanded with a snarl and she is jerked roughy round- some subconscious part of her mind equating her current status to that of a rag doll- so that her hips make brutal contact with the wall and a bolt of pain from her left arm causes her to cry out as this new position has the appendage bent at an uncomfortable angle.
"Shut up-"
-Bitch!
But the Sheriff doesn't say it; dimly aware through the haze of her adrenaline that however crass their current game may be, Regina will take the word to heart.
And she doesn't want that.
"-Learn your place!"
A predictable snarl from perfect lips at the notion.
Pale fingers find their way easily between sun-kissed thighs to continue with their delicious torture and the Mayor desists baring her teeth angrily in favour of biting her lip; by now unable to control the steady moans that quietly escape her throat despite being beautifully muffled.
True, her arm still aches, but as she begins rocking back to meet Emma's ruthless assault, the heat of the younger woman's sharp hipbone pressed into the soft flesh above her ass serves to take her mind off such annoyances.
"Please..."
Tongue playing across the salted crest of the Mayor's shoulder, the blonde frowns. Part of her- and it is a part she isn't particularly fond of, but it is also the part that is orchestrating this little game- aches to yank at pretty, dark locks and bite down at the vulnerable skin of the darker woman's throat.
To ask just who in the hell she thinks she is asking for favours; doesn't she know the rules?!
But another part of her- and she is sure that this part has won out more and more ever since falling for the intoxicating brunette- is aware not just of how unlikely it would be that Regina would find such sharp aggression at her expense a turn on, but is also dumbfounded that the Queen should be using such a term at all.
It is not the first time... But for the Mayor to use the word in such a vulnerable state is a rarity Emma is able to acknowledge, despite the red-tinged violence that currently clouds her vision.
I've still won... Technically...
Grinning, she allows herself one last indulgence in their current role-play; sinking her teeth cruelly into flawless flesh to elicit a crystal clear scream from the brunette, before speeding up her ministrations to the darker woman's sex to a vigorous fucking that has her breaking out into a light sweat as the backs of beautifully toned thighs tremble tellingly against her own.
"Emma!... I can't!..."
And, just like in the beginning, when the brunette had acted as a relief when the Sheriff's legs had threatened to give way and cause her real pain in her vulnerable position at the cuffs' mercy, so now the blonde moves swiftly forwards and uses her bodyweight to keep the Queen pinned against the wall as she crumbles; careful to keep Regina from sagging into the awkward pull of the restraint.
"Shh... Don't move..."
The Mayor nods weakly; almost sitting in the blonde's lap as Emma keeps her thigh firmly wedged between spent legs.
"Damn..."
Fiddling with the tight bindings of the scarf with a frown, the Sheriff becomes quickly frustrated as she struggles to find any form of give while her current stance begins to take its toll.
"Here..."
A haze of purple smoke and the scarf unravels itself; the blonde letting out a small cry of her own.
"Shit... I forgot you could do that..."
Chuckling hoarsely, Regina finds purchase of the wall and pushes herself up, rubbing at the recently released flesh of her wrist tenderly before turning to regard the younger woman with an unreadable expression.
"...That was..."
Unable to find the right words she extends her hand and simply leads Emma towards the bed; the Sheriff looking suddenly shy now that the moment has passed.
"...How much of what you just showed me actually happened?"
Pushing gently at the blonde's shoulder, she waits for her to lie down before clambering exhaustedly on top of her.
"I... I told you... We were changing up the rules... The real way of doing that one of us would have got hurt..."
"I'm not asking about the 'real' way... I'm asking how much of what just happened was a reenactment of back then?"
"...Does it matter?"
A raised brow and a suddenly clinical expression, and the brunette sighs, finding delicate lips with her own and letting her fingers wander down beneath the waistband of the Sheriff's shorts to finally allow her to tease the soft flesh she knows so intimately well.
"No... Not if you don't want it to..."
"... It wasn't like you think... You weren't... You weren't 'me' just now."
"...No?"
"No."
"Okay?"
"You...You're maybe the first person I've ever gone up against and found myself in the secondary position..."
"... You were playing yourself... How you were...?"
"Yes... But... It would have ended differently... Back then, I mean."
"Ah. No magic to help with that tricky knot-"
"-I wouldn't have caught you."
"... I know."
"... Look... Don't think-"
"-I don't. I don't think anything about back then that you don't want me to think... But thank you."
"You had fun?"
"Yes... But, I was thanking you for catching me."
"Well... Thank you for making me need to do so."