The call of the dagger is perhaps the strangest thing about being the dark one.
Emma had thought it would be the sheer power of it all. And that's there, too: it buzzes in her fingertips, resonates through her torso with every step she takes, but that's not it. It's not even the total lack of conscience: that part's just freeing, she thinks. She's beholden to no one but herself.
No, it's the pull that's the most unfamiliar.
It tugs at her very bones. She doesn't know what would happen if she tried to resist. Curiosity overtakes her and she tries for a brief second, fights back – agony rips through her muscles. It's not worth the fight, not this time.
She lets it happen.
She doesn't want to resist, anyway. One of the more peculiar senses she's developed is the knowledge, at all times, of whose hand rests against the hilt of her dagger.
There's a dirty joke somewhere in there, she thinks.
Right now, her blade rests in the hand of the person she wants to see most. Wants to rile most – the person whose skin she's wanted to dig under, find little weak points and chip away with her teeth until there's nothing left. Her blood's been boiling for it since she'd taken the magic on, and now is her chance.
The library materializes around her as the magic takes over. Strange choice, she thinks, but then again, nobody comes here but Belle. It's quiet. She casts her gaze around dusty bookshelves and scuffed linoleum as she calls into darkness, "I've missed you."
Her words are met with silence.
"Oh, come on, Regina. I know you're here. I do know who summons me." With that she turns, crossing her arms over her chest.
Regina is standing in the open space in front of the elevator, dagger extended. Her dark eyes go wide as she takes in Emma's appearance. Emma knows it's jarring, at least compared to her old self: her hair has gone dark, red that matches the blood at her lips from where she's worried at the skin with her own teeth. She's left it down and lank, abandoned the curls that she'd so favored in her past life, and there's a cut at her cheekbone that she hasn't bothered to heal. She's got the golden eyes of the dark one tucked away, hidden behind green with a constant little hum of her magic, but she contemplates letting that guard fall just to scare Regina. Regina's eyes drop over her torso, and Emma decides against it.
"Don't tell me you're going to complain about my attire again," Emma teases. "I figured this would be right up your alley. Black leather and all." She gives a little flourish, a wicked grin crossing her lips as Regina scowls. "Oh, come on. Who wore it better?"
Regina rolls her eyes. "I didn't bring you here to discuss your wardrobe."
Emma draws in a mocking gasp, clutching her hand over her chest. "She speaks!"
"Screw you, Emma."
"Play nice."
Regina huffs, her nostrils flaring as she fights down her anger. It's wonderful, Emma thinks, just how easily she can get a rise out of Regina. It's one of the things that had drawn her to the other woman in the first place: poke and prod, and the venom comes out. "I just wanted to know that you were alive. You've been gone for weeks. We've been worried sick."
Emma tilts her head to the side, closing the distance between them by only a few steps. "And yet you didn't call until now. Why? You've had my dagger this whole time." Emma watches as Regina counters her movements with a tiny step of her own, one that only brings her a few inches back. "Are you scared of me?" Emma asks, fascinated. The Evil Queen, scourge of the Enchanted Forest, murderer –
"No," Regina spits. "I'm disgusted."
A laugh escapes Emma's throat before she can stop it. "You're disgusted? Oh, Regina, I'd expect that from my parents, from Henry, even – but not from you. We're kindred spirits, you and I." She inches closer. "You of all people know how wonderful this feels. I've given in, just like you did, all those years ago. I bet if you plucked my heart out right now it'd look just like yours." Regina's eyes drop to her feet as she strides forward, closing the gap between them entirely. She leans forward as she says, "I'm free," and feels a barrier fly up between them. She scoffs, a soft little noise as her eyes trail between them as if she can see it. "Really, Regina? Don't you trust me?"
Regina's grip on the dagger tightens, knuckles going white as she holds it out in front of her torso. "Not at all. Not like this."
"What's the matter? Afraid I'll hurt you?" Emma probes with her magic, searching for a weak spot. The dagger might be in Regina's hand, but if she can distract her enough…well. Then things can get interesting.
"No," Regina says, and Emma's eyes flick back to her own.
They're soft now. All that defiance is gone, all that disgust – it's replaced instead by something that looks suspiciously like guilt, like pity, and Emma sneers.
"Then you're a bigger fool than I thought." She rakes her eyes down over Regina's body. She's wearing a silk button up and a pencil skirt, a classic combo that's driven Emma wild in the past. She thinks Regina has to know that. She's never been good with subtlety, after all – she wonders if it had been a deliberate choice. When her gaze returns to Regina's she can tell she's noticed the appraisal: her mouth is pressed into a thin line, and Emma watches her throat work as she swallows. She reaches forward, presses at the barrier of the dagger despite the screaming beneath her skin, and trails her finger over Regina's cheekbone.
Regina's breath hitches in her throat, eyes locked defiantly to Emma's, and there. There it is.
A weak spot in that armor.
Emma surges forward with a blast of dark magic, wresting the dagger from Regina's hand as she blows her backwards. Regina hits the ground hard on her back, and Emma wastes no time, locking her there with her magic and pinning her with the heel of her boot. She doesn't need it – the magic is more than enough to keep her down, but the way Regina's eyes flash – that's what she wants. To infuriate her. Emma feels Regina's magic surge, tastes it on her tongue, and bares her teeth as Regina conjures up another of those barriers. This time it's to protect herself. Her foot slips against it, and she bares down.
"You really thought you had the power here, Regina?"
Regina doesn't say anything. She doesn't even move, doesn't do anything to contradict the notion, and yet – anger flares in Emma's chest, bright and cold and all-consuming. This is her game, and hers alone.
Emma leans forward against her knee, driving her heel harder into Regina's chest. She's going to have a hell of a bruise, even with that fancy bit of magic she's conjured up over her chest. It's a pity, Emma thinks. She'd like to see a bit of blood.
Still.
"Do you like that?" She murmurs, watching as Regina flinches – just barely, almost imperceptibly – as Emma puts more weight against her sternum. "I always knew you were into some dark shit. Say please," She adds, "And I might even tie you up, too." It's gratuitous, maybe, sure – but the anger that flares in Regina's dark eyes is more than worth it. "Mm," She hums. "That's it. Fight back."
"Fuck you."
Emma laughs. "That was the implication, Gina." She grins, a wicked thing, because she knows that Regina despises that nickname. Knows equally well that she's the only one who's ever been allowed to use it; Knows without a doubt that it fucking hurts her to hear it now, coming from her bloodstained lips, dagger in hand and her heel biting over Regina's heart. "I'll tell you what. Since you hate my outfit so much, why don't you undress me?" Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, eyes flitting to Regina's neck as she adds, "I always knew you wanted it, you know. You never did have the courage to ask. You could do it now. You want me to hurt you?" She leans closer, and Regina bites back a wince at the added weight to her chest. "You want me to touch you, baby?"
Regina's expression hardens. There's rage brewing behind that careful control, and god, Emma wants to break it. Emma will break it.
"Get off me," Regina growls instead.
Emma tsks. "No."
Regina's hands come up now, wrap around her ankle –
Emma tears it away, and drops. Regina gasps as Emma lands on top of her with a thud, legs splayed around her lap, dagger still in her hand and glinting dangerously in the light. A slow, lazy smile spreads over her lips.
"Bad girl."
Regina sneers. "Don't call me that."
Emma brandishes the blade. "I'll call you whatever I want." Her voice has taken on an edge, now – the defiance is fun, sure. It's also starting to piss her off. "Treat you like a pet. A whore," she adds, and Regina's expression darkens even more. Emma laughs. "Don't like that, do you?" She tuts, a little pop of her tongue against the roof of her mouth, and lifts the dagger towards Regina's face.
Regina winces, a motion that is likely involuntary but still oh-so-gratifying. But Emma only presses the flat of the blade to Regina's cheek and lets the cool metal skim over the surface of her skin, all while Regina sets her jaw and locks her eyes to Emma's.
"What, no magical barriers this time, Your Majesty?" Emma murmurs. "You don't think I'll cut you?"
Regina lifts her chin, turning into the metal ever so slightly. "No, I don't."
Emma flips the dagger, catches it by the blade and shoves the hilt beneath Regina's chin, forcing her head back to expose her throat. Regina inhales, nostrils flaring, and Emma presses the hilt harder against her jaw. The blade bites into her own palm, but she takes no note. Her own magic swells to protect her, a subconscious thing, and she can feel her flesh knitting back together even as the blood dribbles out onto Regina's skin.
"Look at that," Emma breathes. "The first blood spilled is my own." She angles the dagger a bit, letting one of the curves brush over the swell of Regina's throat. "You don't believe I'll spill yours, too?"
Regina's silent, and Emma pulls the dagger away. Her chin drops, again, eyes never leaving Emma's, still blazing. Emma holds it, tilts her head to the side, and says, "You're wrong."
Her hand darts out lightning-fast, and she cuts the tiniest of nicks at the other woman's clavicle. The wound is small, maybe a centimeter long, but the dagger is sharp, and so it bleeds. The ruby liquid swells out of the gash and mingles with Emma's. Emma watches as it clots, each of their immune systems fighting to banish the foreign blood.
"That's it?" Regina raises a brow. It's intended to rile her, Emma knows: to piss her off, because even pinned to the ground, Regina bristles like an animal puffing its chest.
Emma laughs. "Oh, you're so brave, Gina. It's one of the things I love about you." She angles the knife over Regina's sternum instead, right over the top button of her shirt. "If you want more, all you have to do is ask."
She trails the knife down the seam of Regina's shirt. The blade pops buttons as it goes, breaking threads and leaving a light trail of blood in its wake. The wound is shallow, Emma knows, but it must sting – the realization doesn't make her want to stop. Regina's stone-faced, watching only Emma's expression as she draws the blade down towards the soft skin of her navel.
"You're not going to say anything?" Emma asks, unbothered. "I could gut you right now, if I wanted to." She meets Regina's gaze for a moment, and she holds it. "Like a fish." She tilts the dagger up for emphasis, lets the tip of the metal bite into the surface of the other woman's skin with the slightest pressure.
"You're not going to do that," Regina says. "Despite this act that you're putting on, I know you. You wouldn't do that."
"You didn't think I'd cut you, either." She reaches up and smears a little bit of the blood at her collarbone. "But here you are, bleeding beneath me."
Regina swallows. Emma watches her throat work with the motion. "Barely," She says, eventually. "You're not really going to hurt me, Emma. If you were, I'd be dead already." The words are breathy, falter a little at the end – some of her resolve fading – and Emma smiles.
Good.
"You don't know me at all, Regina." Emma wets her lips as she bites the blade in harder, slicing through more than just the surface this time. The trail that she leaves is no longer thin, tiny beads of blood welling up sparse – no. Now it floods, swells beneath the metal, thick and wine-dark and intoxicating. She pulls the blade away as Regina winces. "A pity, really. You have such beautiful skin. I'm going to leave a scar." She rises up on her knees, braces her hand against the cold tile, and leans down to hover above Regina's stomach. She presses a kiss at the base of the wound, just above the band of Regina's skirt. Regina takes a sharp breath as her lips make contact. The rise of her stomach makes the tip of Emma's nose brush against her skin, and she repeats the action before adding, "Although, I suppose you can always heal away the evidence when we're done here."
With that, Emma darts her tongue out, slipping first over the place that she'd kissed, and then she laves her tongue over the wound. Copper and salt flood her mouth, and she draws her tongue further up, following the path of the blade directly up between Regina's breasts before she pulls away, sits back with her hips settled directly over Regina's, and wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand.
"That's disgusting," Regina says.
"Is it?" Emma asks. She trails her fingertips up the path of the cut she's created, over the slick column of saliva and blood that she's left behind, and stops when she reaches Regina's sternum. She pushes at the frayed fabric of her ruined shirt, just enough that she reveals the edge of Regina's bra. She hadn't quite managed to cut through the underwire – she hadn't been pressing that hard, after all – and the garment is still mostly intact. She lets her fingers brush along the outline of the lace, up and over the curve of Regina's breast, but doesn't push her shirt much farther. "I thought it was kind of hot," she says, and revels in the way that Regina's cheeks flush under her touch.
"There's something seriously wrong with you."
Emma sputters out a laugh. "Yeah, that would be all that dark one energy I took in your place." She brings up the dagger again. She balances the point against the top of Regina's sternum, just at the base of her throat where her clavicles meet. Regina inhales sharply as the tip digs into her flesh, the motion only serving to drive it further in. Emma watches as more dark red wells up beneath the wicked metal. She spins the blade so that it's facing Regina, so that her name engraved along the length is fully visible to Regina, impossible to ignore with it inches from her face. "Didn't think you'd forget so quickly, considering I did it for you."
Regina frowns, and there they are – cracks in her armor, little breaks where the anger is starting to shine through. Except – "I know," She says, and there's an ache in her voice that only kindles the white-hot fire in Emma's chest, makes it flare like nothing Emma's ever felt. "This isn't you. The Emma I know is still in there somewhere. You saved me, and now I'm going to save you."
"Oh, stop!" Emma spits, and pulls the knife back before she can do something stupid like actually drive it in, because, oh – "Fuck off with that pity act. Boo hoo, Emma's being mean! You murdered thousands. Did people treat you like glass then, too?" Her eyes flash, and finally, finally she sees Regina's jaw set. "That's it. Maybe the Emma you knew was always like this. After all, you never did bother to learn, did you? All you did was shove me away. Don't pretend like you're fucking sad now."
"That's what this is about? You're upset that I never – what, invited you over for a slumber party?"
Emma bears down with her hips, emphasizing the fact that her legs are currently wrapped around the other woman's lap. "Poor choice of words, Regina."
Regina swallows, eyes darting south – Emma grins, and some of the anger fizzles out. Her hands haven't left the floor this whole time, but now – now Emma sees them twitch.
"Hm. Did you like that?" Emma hums her realization, and Regina's eyes return to her own so that she can glare. "Oh, stop. You're about as intimidating as a teddy bear, Madame Mayor."
"Let me go," Regina hisses.
"You're the one that started this," Emma reminds her. "I'll keep you here as long as I want."
Regina's jaw sets, lips pressed into a thin line, and with the blade gone from her flesh she starts to sit up. She makes it as far as to shift her weight onto her elbows and then Emma surges forward. The dagger clatters on the tile, forgotten, as Emma wraps her hand around Regina's neck and slams her back to the floor. She feels Regina's magic spark at the last second, forming a cushion to protect her head from the impact. Emma pauses, unsure if she'd wanted to see blood on the tile or not.
This is better, she thinks. She wants Regina alert. Conscious. After all, what's the point if she's not aware?
"Stay on the ground," Emma growls. She's got her weight on her knees now, her face at the curve of Regina's shoulder. She can feel her breath ghosting over her own fingers; knows that Regina must feel it too, tickling over her throat. Her fingertips dig into soft flesh, careful not to put too much pressure on Regina's windpipe. She still wants the other woman to be able to speak, wants to hear that dark, rich voice as she begs her. Defies her. Spits out insults –
None come.
Instead, they just lay there – Regina on her back, hands locked at her side. Emma hovering over her, just inches away from contact. Breathing. Heavy, both of them – Emma feels every ragged breath, every harsh swallow Regina takes against her palm.
Regina doesn't try to move again.
"I think you like this," Emma murmurs eventually, and Regina scoffs.
When Regina replies, her voice is hoarse. "And what the hell gives you that idea?" Emma doesn't respond right away, just presses her lips to Regina's shoulder. She sucks, draws the skin between her teeth and bites down just hard enough that she hopes it will leave a bruise, and Regina's breathing comes ragged. "I'm not enjoying this, Emma. Get off of me."
Emma laughs, dark and low and disbelieving. "Liar," she chastises, and then lifts her head a little so that she can continue at the other woman's ear. Her lips brush against the skin of her neck as she speaks. "Here's the thing, your majesty. You and I both know that you're gifted. Even with the dark one's magic, I'm an even match for you at best, and yet –" She tightens her hand against Regina's throat – "You're still on the fucking ground."
Regina doesn't say anything. Emma rises, settles her hips back over Regina's with her hand still at her throat, and hovers over her face instead. She meets her eyes – Regina's are ablaze, defiant, pupils blown. Emma leans down like she's going to kiss her, and Regina's lips part, but Emma stops just before she makes contact.
She drops her volume, voice dipping to the back of her throat like gravel, lips ghosting over Regina's as she adds: "I think you like losing control."
Emma closes the gap.
She doesn't expect Regina to kiss her back. She doesn't expect her to respond at all, really – maybe finally lift those hands from the tile and shove Emma back.
Certainly not this.
A moan escapes from Regina's throat. Emma doubts she'd meant for it to happen, but it does, and Emma parts her lips against Regina's in response. Regina follows, lets Emma slip her tongue into her mouth, and her hands finally do leave the floor – Emma feels them skim up her thighs and latch on.
The kiss deepens after that. Emma's not sure which one of them prompts it – definitely not just her, and the thought is intoxicating.
Emma wonders if Regina can taste her own blood at her lips.
"Isn't that something," She murmurs when she pulls back, and Regina's expression is hard. A blank slate, solid like steel with her eyes landing anywhere but Emma's, and the temptation to press is strong. "Disgusted with yourself, Gina?" She loosens her grip on Regina's throat as she speaks, trailing her fingers down and over the soft flesh instead.
Regina's hands are still on Emma's thighs.
"Mildly."
Emma hums out a little laugh, bringing her finger down over Regina's sternum. "Only mildly? That's a surprise." She leans forward again, brushing her lips against Regina's cheek. "We could go farther, if you want." She hooks her finger beneath the tattered gore of the other woman's bra and tugs. It breaks in the back, the eyelets popping open by force of Emma's magic, and she feels Regina's sharp inhale against her touch. "That's it, baby. If I undressed you?" Her fingers slip beneath the torn fabric of the other woman's shirt. "Touched you? How would you feel then?" She presses a kiss to Regina's cheekbone, and leans in close to murmur at her ear once more as she slides her hand over the cup of her bra, palming her breast through the thin padding. Regina arches, ever so slightly, into the touch, and Emma grins, emboldened by her reaction and dark magic and the taste of blood on her tongue. "What would you think," She continues, raspy, "If I fucked you with my tongue? Could you live with yourself?"
Regina doesn't reply, only swallows hard. Emma watches as her throat works.
"Nothing to say about that? No, what, whining about saving me from my own desire?"
"You're not her," Regina says simply. Her voice is steady, but her cheeks are hot to the touch, and Emma feels her fingertips dig in ever so slightly at her thighs. "My Emma would never…" She drifts off for a second as Emma pulls back the cup of her bra. When she continues, her words are breathy. "She'd never talk to me like that." Her eyes dart down. Emma brushes her fingertip over Regina's nipple. "She'd never touch me like that."
Emma tsks. "Either I'm still your Emma or I'm not. You don't get to change your tune halfway through." She pulls the cup of Regina's bra farther down, exposing her bare breast to the air. She rolls her nipple between her fingers, teases until it's hard and then a little more for good measure, and watches Regina's throat work as she swallows, her breathing growing shallow. "You said before that the Emma you know is still in here. Maybe she," Emma continues, pinching harder and relishing the whimper that slips from Regina's throat, "Always wanted you. Maybe she was weak, too afraid to say it –" Emma slips her whole hand beneath the cup, squeezing her bare breast – "Maybe I'm still the same person, and I'm not. Maybe I don't give a fuck, and I go after what I want."
She gives the words a moment to sink in, lets her lips part as Regina inhales. "Because, Regina, I do want to fuck you. I want to hurt you, too." She emphasizes her words with her fingernails, digging into the tender flesh of Regina's breast. She rakes them down and over her nipple, leaving red tracks in her wake, and Regina draws in a sharp gasp. "I want to make you scream." Emma gives another low laugh. She sticks the tip of her tongue out, just barely skimming along the skin of Regina's cheek as she makes her way down towards her lips. She can taste the sweat on Regina's skin, the salt, and when she kisses her, she slips her tongue inside of her mouth and makes sure that she can taste it, too.
Regina actually moans.
Emma pulls back just briefly to soak in that, to gloat as she eyes her, but to her surprise, Regina's hand flies from her thigh, wraps around the back of her neck instead, and pulls her back down in a harsh motion that brings them crashing back together. Regina pushes her tongue inside Emma's mouth, slides it over her teeth, draws it back and sucks her lower lip between her own instead – bites – that one earns her a moan on Emma's part. It slips from her throat before she can stop it, and Emma thinks that she can allow her this one concession, because her fingernails are digging into her skin and Emma can feel her thighs part beneath her and oh, this is an entirely unexpected development.
Unexpected, but welcome.
Emma's hand is still on Regina's exposed breast, and she palms it one last time before letting the cup of her bra snap back up into its former position, bringing her hand up instead to wreath in Regina's hair and lock. She snaps back to a sitting position, breaking the kiss as she tugs, and Regina lets her head fall back to the ground with a gasp. She's breathing heavy, eyes hooded, and this time she meets Emma's gaze head on instead of avoiding it.
The grin that spreads over Emma's lips is lazy. Taunting. She hopes for a reaction, wants so desperately for Regina to spit venom back at her, deny her participation – her enthusiastic participation at that – but nothing comes. She just lays there, with one hand still at Emma's thigh and the other at her side, with her gaze like stone.
Eventually Regina takes a shaky breath and asks, "Is that true?"
Emma tilts her head to the side. She releases Regina's hair and takes her other hand in her own instead, places it back on her thigh – Regina's eyes dart down, but she doesn't fight the motion. "Is what true?" Emma hums absentmindedly – purposefully nonchalant as she covers both of Regina's hands with her own and draws them farther up. Slowly, tantalizingly – Regina watches with bated breath, if only for a second, before her eyes snap back to Emma's.
Regina huffs a little, a puff of air through her nose, but eventually she gives in. "What you said. About wanting me."
Emma laughs, low and slow and in the back of her throat, and draws Regina's hands inwards. Regina's breathing grows shallow. "So I am your Emma after all, then?"
"Are you going to answer the question?"
"Which part?" Emma asks. "Wanting you now? Or wanting you before?"
Regina swallows visibly. "Then. Both."
Emma squeezes her hands, then lifts them off of her thighs and brings them back over Regina's head instead. The motion is slow, deliberate, far less violent than any so far, and Regina allows it to happen. It brings them face to face once again, and Emma gives a sly smile as she answers, "Yes."
Emma releases her wrists and slides off of her, down to the floor, so that she's laying flush against Regina's side. She releases all magical restraints – she knows Regina feels it, sees her eyes widen as she shoots a questioning glance at Emma.
"I want you," Emma breathes, and leans in.
It's a test, she thinks.
She ghosts her lips over Regina's neck, and keeps her hands to herself. She's itching, twitching to do something, anything – maybe wrap her hand back around that pretty throat, maybe push her fingers between Regina's lips and demand that she suck, maybe run her fingers over the clotting blood at her chest – but she does none of them. Instead she draws the skin of Regina's neck into her mouth and sucks at it; tongues and nips at the tender flesh until she's certain she's left a bruise. When she pulls back she asks, "What do you want to do about that, Regina? Did you want me then, too? Do you want me now?"
It's a taunt. It's a request.
A request that's thinly veiled as a taunt, because Emma's not doing vulnerable. Not now. Now with all this power flooding her veins – she doesn't have to, she reminds herself with a rush. The knife calls to her from the floor a couple of feet away, a reminder, thrumming with the same dark energy that sparks at her fingertips.
To her surprise, Regina actually answers.
"Yes." It's breathy, barely audible, and Emma props herself up on her elbow so that she can meet Regina's eyes.
"What did you say?"
Regina, for her part, doesn't look quite so happy about the turn of events. She glowers, and then grits out, "You heard me."
Emma lets her hands roam now. Her fingertips dance over Regina's clavicle, up over the swell of her throat until she can catch her jaw and tilt it so that she's facing her. "I'm afraid you'll have to say it again."
Regina jerks her chin out of Emma's grasp, but she doesn't break eye contact. "I said yes. Are you happy?"
Emboldened, Emma leans forward and ghosts her lips over Regina's once more. It's a tease – she doesn't give her real contact, pulls back at the last second when Regina tries to deepen it – "Not yet," She hisses, and Regina lets out a frustrated noise that Emma would almost categorize as a growl. "You're going to have to tell me what you want."
Regina pulls back with another frustrated huff. She lets her head roll back on the linoleum so that she's facing the ceiling, and Emma laughs. "This isn't funny, Emma," Regina bites out, and Emma grins.
"No," Emma agrees, letting her fingers trail down Regina's breastbone once more. She dips beneath the fabric of her shirt and pulls it open enough to expose her bra for real. Regina's eyes dart down. "But it is fun."
"If you think I'm going to beg you to touch me like some common whore, you're sorely mistaken."
"Who said anything about begging?" Emma asks sweetly. "I only asked you to tell me what you want." Her fingers trail down, dipping just below Regina's navel. Regina winces as she brushes against the cut she'd created with the dagger. It's already pulling back together, a product of Regina's magic, she's sure – she resists the temptation to pull it open once more. "I'm not a monster, Regina. I won't fuck you unless you want it." She traces the edge of Regina's waistband, lets her fingers hover there for a moment before she teases them down, slips them just barely beneath the hem and asks – "What do you say?"
"I already told you," Regina grits out. A deep red flush colors her cheeks – she's embarrassed, Emma can tell, and oh. This is fun.
"You said you wanted me," Emma corrects her. "That's not the same. You know what I want to hear." She leans in to murmur at Regina's ear once more, breath hot at her skin. "Do you want me to fuck you?"
Regina swallows visibly. She nods, and Emma feels her arch her hips forward, encouraging.
"You're going to have to say it."
Regina lets out another frustrated growl. She turns, reaches out to catch the side of Emma's jaw and pulls her in for a searing kiss. Her nails bite into Emma's face. Emma gasps at the contact, heat flooding every inch of her skin as Regina deepens the kiss immediately, catching Emma's lower lip between her teeth and nipping, sucking – Emma kind of hopes she'll draw blood, but she pulls back before it goes that far.
Pity.
When she meets Emma's gaze, though, there's fire burning in her eyes. "Yes. Is that what you want to hear?"
Emma licks her lips. It's too easy, making her squirm like this. "Yes, what?" Regina only drops her hand in response, catches Emma's wrist in her fingers – Emma pulls it back with tsk. "Tell me exactly what you want, Regina."
"You're fucking pushing it." Regina grits her teeth and finally, finally says: "I want you to fuck me, Emma. Alright?"
Emma hums her satisfaction. She kisses Regina once more as she hooks her fingers fully beneath the waistband of Regina's skirt, teasing through the curls just below the edge of her panties. She can feel the heat radiating from her center the farther she dips them. "Again."
"Emma –"
"Again."
"I said yes –"
"Exactly what you want," Emma hisses, retracting her fingers and bringing them back instead to rake over Regina's midriff. It catches her wound and Regina inhales sharply, and Emma teases them downwards once more, bringing a sticky trail of fresh blood with. She gathers the fabric of Regina's skirt in her hand without a care for the stain that must create. She tries to ruck it over her hips one-handed; Regina lifts her hips to make it easier, a wanton motion that has Emma licking her lips, but it proves difficult in their current position. She waves her hand instead, and the fabric disappears in a haze of black smoke. If Regina's concerned at where her skirt has gone she doesn't show it — instead, Emma feels her legs part. "Come on, Gina, you're the one who brought up begging. Tell me again –"
"Please," Regina bites out finally. "Touch me. Fuck me. I want to feel your tongue on me – just –" She catches sight of Emma's grin then, and stops abruptly. "God, you're a bitch like this."
Emma laughs at that. "Guilty."
With that, she finally plunges her hand beneath the lace of Regina's panties.
Regina lets out a moan the moment her fingers make contact. Emma sighs, too: Regina's fucking soaked.
"Fuck, Regina, you're wet." Emma parts her, dips her fingertips through her arousal, and then brings them back up to slide over her clit. Regina gasps and bears down with her hips. "Eager," Emma teases, and Regina hisses, "Shut up." Emma lets out a low laugh, leaning forward to suck at the skin just below Regina's jaw. She dips her tongue over the bruise she's created, relishing the hitch in Regina's breath as she reaches her pulse point.
Regina's worked up, she can tell. Her skin is hot under her touch, and every stroke of Emma's fingers elicits a delicious new noise from the back of her throat – her moans devolve into pleading little whimpers as Emma rubs circles over her clit, and it doesn't take long before she's canting her hips up into Emma's every touch, hurtling desperately towards her orgasm. For a moment Emma considers stopping, making her beg to come, too, just as she'd begged to be touched, but fuck, Emma doesn't want to give this up.
It's entirely too hot, Regina coming undone beneath her like this.
She pulls back, leans her weight on her elbow again so that she can watch her – Regina's eyes are screwed shut, her mouth open as she gasps, cheeks flushed a deep red – her chest heaves, breasts pushing against the confines of her bra as she pants, and Emma wills it away with a rush of her magic. She shifts down just enough to catch Regina's now-bare nipple in her mouth. Regina moans as she swirls her tongue, just barely scraping her teeth over the tip – and that's all it takes.
Regina's hand clamps over her wrist, holding her hand between her thighs as if she's afraid Emma will pull back. Emma's not that unkind, though – or maybe she is, but this is something that she wants as much as Regina does, a selfish desire curling in the depths of her abdomen as she brings her closer to the edge. She keeps up her pace, rough circles over her slick skin, and Regina comes with a cry, her back arching as her hips stutter against Emma's hand. Wetness floods her panties, hot against her fingers, and Emma lets out a sigh at the physical evidence of her pleasure. Emma works her through the aftershocks with gentle strokes, savoring noises that escape her lips with each additional wave.
Her grip on Emma's wrist relaxes eventually, and Emma pulls her hand back.
"That was quick," She teases, a sly smile at her lips.
Regina's eyes flutter open just enough that she can glare. "Fuck you, Emma." The words are breathy – Emma has the feeling she can't manage anything but at the moment, and that only adds fuel to her fire.
"Mm, no." Emma hums in response. "I'm not done with you yet."
Regina's lips part at the words, fall open further as Emma slips her hand back between her thighs – this time over the fabric, lower than she'd been before. She teases over the soaked lace, ghosting over Regina's entrance and back up to skim over her clit with feather-light touches. She's still sensitive from her orgasm, and Emma watches hungrily as her body twitches with each jolt of sensation. She tugs the fabric to the side, exposing her, and Regina draws in a shaky breath.
"Tell me, Regina," Emma murmurs. "Do you want to feel me inside of you?"
"Yes," Regina breathes, apparently having learned from last time. "Please," She adds, and Emma feels her heart race.
"Good," She says, and pushes one finger inside.
Just one.
Regina groans, heady at first and then frustrated, as Emma draws long, lazy strokes. "I said fuck me, Emma, not tease me," She bites, and Emma laughs, low and dark and from the back of her throat.
"You want more?"
"Fuck you. Yes."
"You've got to stop saying that," Emma admonishes, but still, she obliges. She adds just one more finger, and Regina chokes out her satisfaction. She curls them forward, thrusting faster as Regina rolls her hips down, encouraging.
Finally, she says fuck it, and pulls them back out.
Regina grunts out her frustration, an indignant Emma slipping from her lips until Emma leans over and reaches for the dagger, and then her eyes are just wide.
"Don't worry, Your Majesty," Emma breathes, offering a wry grin, "I'm not going to cut you again." Instead she brings the blade down, teasing it over the curve of Regina's hip bone before she tucks it beneath the strap of her panties and lifts.
The elastic snaps immediately.
She's grazed Regina's skin in the process – it leaves a pink patch in its wake, but Emma pays it no mind. She hadn't sliced. She'd kept her word. She trails the metal down in a wide arc, dipping low just above Regina's pubic bone, and bringing it back up to her other hip to slice the other side. With that Emma tosses the dagger aside, handle glistening from her still-wet fingers, and reaches up to tear the thin garment away.
Regina inhales as she's left bare.
Emma climbs up to kiss her. She finds herself wishing, only for a moment, that she was bare too: she contemplates it, considers magicking her own clothing away so that she can feel Regina's naked skin flush against her own.
She decides against it, in the end, as Regina pants into her mouth, tongue hot against her own.
She's the one with the power here. Regina's the one who's exposed. She's going to keep it that way.
Emma shifts so that she's hovering over Regina. Her thigh falls between Regina's, and Regina bucks against it eagerly – once again, she's fucking tempted, but no – and Emma tears away, falling back on her knees and settling on the ground between Regina's legs.
Regina sits up on her elbows, just enough to peer down at her with wide eyes that go dark the instant she realizes.
Emma darts her tongue out to pass over Regina's clit. Just once.
"Oh, fuck," Regina breathes. It's all the encouragement Emma needs.
She pushes Regina's thighs back, knees splayed wide to allow her better access. Regina allows her, obedient in her want, her desperation – and she is, Emma thinks, desperate. Her flesh is swollen, flushed red and glistening, scent heady and intoxicating. Emma brings her hands up, bracing her weight on her elbows to allow her the best range of motion, and spreads Regina with her fingers before she leans forward and slides the flat of her tongue over her clit, slow and deliberate and hard. The taste of her floods Emma's mouth, Regina's arousal slipping over her lips and coating her chin as she works.
"God, Emma," Regina groans, and falls back against the floor. Her hand comes up to palm at her own breast, her fingers dancing over her nipple, pinching and pulling as Emma laps at her. She ups the pace, presses a third finger inside of her and rocks them hard and fast, earning a whimper and a buck of Regina's hips against her tongue. Her free hand flies to Emma's hair after a moment and locks there as the rolling of her hips grows frantic. She's practically riding Emma's mouth now, little whimpers escaping her throat as she hurtles towards another orgasm.
Emma feels Regina begin to flutter around her, squeezing at her fingers as the bucking of her hips grows erratic. She comes quietly this time, a sob choked out by her gasps as Emma continues to work her tongue against her clit. Emma keeps going until the hand in her hair relaxes, and then pulls her mouth away, looking up instead to watch the rise and fall of Regina's chest as she recovers.
She doesn't retract her fingers though, and she only gives her a moment before she begins to stroke them again.
Regina sits up on her elbow to peer down at her. "What – Emma. I can't –"
"Yes, you can," Emma cuts her off. She curls her fingers forward, eliciting a gasp from Regina. "Come for me. Again."
"Emma –" Regina chokes out, a half-formed protest at her lips.
"I'm not asking," Emma replies, curt, and then latches her lips over Regina's clit once more.
The moan that escapes Regina's throat is enough to send Emma's pulse into overdrive. She sucks at her clit this time, gentle at first, allowing her the tiniest bit of reprieve as she builds on the foundation of her last orgasm. Once Regina begins to respond again, tiny little circles of her hips against Emma's lips, she darts her tongue out and laves it against her clit instead, earning her a gasp of her name spilling over Regina's lips and god, Emma commits that one to memory.
She doesn't know if she'll ever get another chance after this.
Regina's hands go to her breasts – both of them, this time, and Emma hums as she watches her pinch at her own nipples. Emma curls her fingers forward as she strokes, pressing against her most sensitive spot as she glides her tongue over her swollen clit.
"Emma – fuck,"
Regina cries out as she comes this time. It devolves into a whimper, and then it's just a series of breathy gasps that pass her lips. It's stronger than the last two, Emma can tell – she can feel it in the way Regina's walls contract around her, in the way she rolls her nipples between her fingers frantically as she rides it out.
When she finally settles, Emma retracts her fingers gently. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand and it comes away glistening.
Regina sits up abruptly, catching Emma by her jaw and tugging her up. Emma scrambles to sit up, to meet her as Regina presses their lips together in a demanding kiss, one that has Emma parting her lips and slipping her tongue into Regina's mouth, sliding it over her teeth, flushed with the knowledge that Regina's tasting herself on Emma's tongue. Regina takes it hungrily, one hand clutching at the back of her neck, her thighs pitched around Emma's own – Emma reaches out and drags Regina forward, pulls her into her lap and encourages her to straddle her, her center bumping against Emma's stomach and undoubtedly leaving a stain.
It makes Emma's desire flare all over again.
She splays one hand against the small of Regina's back as she pulls her into herself. Her breasts bump at Emma's chest, and Regina lets out a moan as Emma reaches her other hand up to palm at one.
It's over in an instant.
A wave of magic crashes over her, dark in a way that is softer than her own. It blows her backwards, slams her to the ground – she groans as it floods her senses, tastes it on her tongue – it mingles with the tang of Regina's arousal, bitter and sharp.
Regina hovers over her, legs still splayed around her lap. Her hand is at Emma's throat.
It's a mirror of their earlier position. Lust curls in her chest, greedy and unabashed.
Emma's eyes burn as she stares up at her, that hunger at her lips as she asks, "What are you going to do to me?"
Regina's expression is hard. Unrevealing. She doesn't speak for several moments. Eventually: "I'm going to find a way to fix this, Emma."
She releases her grip.
Regina rolls off of her and dives for the dagger.
Emma barely registers it until the blade is in her hand. She's on her feet in a flash, the wicked metal glinting dangerously in her hand, and Emma feels herself still locked to the ground, Regina's magic wreathed around her like a vice. Karma's a bitch like that.
It's only then that Emma actually gets a chance to observe her handiwork in its entirety.
Regina's hair is a mess. Her cheeks are still flushed a deep red, sweat beaded at her brow – she's still breathing hard. Her bare breasts swell with every inhale against the tattered remains of her shirt. It hangs limply off her shoulders – she's bare otherwise, the rest of her clothing discarded by Emma's ravenous, careless touch. Bruises dot her neck where Emma's teased at the tender skin with her teeth. The bloody trail that Emma had left down her torso is dry now, the smudges of red-brown glaring against her otherwise smooth skin. She holds the knife out slightly, eyes locked to Emma's. Her own blood taints the edge of the metal.
It's not a defensive motion, but it's not a threat either – Emma doesn't know what it is, honestly. Regina's expression is unreadable, carefully guarded in the wake of her display of vulnerability only moments before.
"Well," Emma prompts after several heartbeats. "Do it then, whatever it is you're going to do."
She doesn't know what she's asking for, doesn't know what she's even hoping for – anything, really. A small, depraved part of herself hopes that Regina will turn the knife against her in the same way she'd turned their position.
Regina swallows visibly. The knife falls to her side.
The mask slips, and Emma sees something like regret in her eyes. Pity. Guilt. Anger. And then she's gone in a swirl of purple smoke, leaving Emma alone amongst the bookshelves.
The magic releases her, and she pushes herself up from the floor. There's blood on the linoleum, and she leaves it there.
She kind of hopes it will leave a stain.