I Can't Get You off of my Mind (and Maybe I'm Crazy but it's True)
Chapter Three: Turpentine and Coffee
Regina finds herself on the stoop of Emma's apartment complex. And she hates herself for being there. But she can't stop hating herself anymore than she can stop standing there. Stop the yearning in her muscles. Stop the way they bend and break, slinking up ever closer.
At first she stood across the street. Than on the street of the apartment. And now she's in front of the door, inhaling frantically as her heart pounds away in her chest. This is crazy. She's crazy.
But she needs to see Emma. Her scent has been tormenting her. And she needs to smell it again. To inhale it right from the source.
She even sounds crazy. Why is she driven to this sort of behavior? To these wants?
She's often heard of certain omega and alpha pairs that have this affect on each other, but she never thought she'd been one of them. Never thought she would be this weak. She wishes she was stronger. But she's not.
She presses the button for Emma's apartment, not even having a plan as to explain why she's here. She quickly scraps one together, because she's not the type to visit her client's homes. Her underlings do that for her.
She waits a while, shifting her feet nervously, her stomach an anxiety bowl. Eventually Emma comes down, in her shorts and a tank top with no bra on, given the way her nipples are able to be seen through. Regina swallows heavily, feeling the member between her legs give a heavy throb. Despite all the attention she's been giving it recently, it demands more and more, bothering her more and more.
She hates this. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. She bites her bottom lip and gives an awkward smile. "Hi. Emma. Hope you're not too busy." Her eyes betray her by taking in Emma's smooth long legs and her chest.
If Emma notices she doesn't say anything, too shocked by Regina's sudden appearance. "Uh, no. I just woke up not too long ago. Did you need something?"
You is the word waiting on Regina's tongue. She smartly doesn't say it. "This is merely a house visit. I wanted to check up on your art progress." She cleared her throat. "I hope you don't mind." She is tempted to bounce on her toes with nerves as Emma takes this false information in.
"Right. Come on in," and she allows Regina to come up.
Regina keeps her eyes glued to the stairs so she won't look up and see Emma's ass in those tiny shorts of hers. But naturally, she fails, peeking up ever so often and finding her mouth has gone dry.
God, even looking at Emma feels so dirty. She's certain the blonde can feel the filth radiating off of Regina, the filth coming from her mind as her eyes scan the apartment and think of all the locations and ways she could fuck Emma on.
She's disgusted with herself for thinking of an omega this way. Of degrading Emma to such a position. It's like she's struggling to see past her sexual appeal. She knows Emma is bright, hard working and earnest, but when Regina's this close to her, and not just looking at her name on paper, it makes it so much harder to focus on that when all she wants to do is have her bent under her and take the ragged thrusting of her hips.
She's hard. So hard it takes her more effort to focus. And she needs to walk carefully.
This was definitely a bad idea visiting Emma like this. But it's too late to drop out. She needs to commit to this now.
Emma, naturally can't tell that Regina is thinking this, but there is no mistaking the light and subtle scenting of arousal covering them both. Emma must smell it on Regina and it's increasing her levels of arousal. It doesn't help with their problems at all. And the way Emma's eyes dip down to Regina's crotch in an attempt to subtly look, as if to grab a glance of her bulge, has Regina's mouth drying out as her heart beat increases.
"I like the place," Regina croaks out of a dry throat once she realizes she's been here for a while and hasn't said anything. And she does like it. It's small but neatly put together and it has Emma's art everywhere, displayed proudly on the walls.
"Thank you," Emma smiles, for Regina's comment has really made her day. "Coffee?" she asks. "It's a bit cold. I wasn't expecting guests." They've arrived at the kitchen
Right. Regina had barged in, had forced her way into Emma's shelter. "Where's your boyfriend?" she blurts out, wanting to know if the apartment will be tempered by his annoying existence. His scent is still fresh.
"He went out a couple of minutes ago to get some groceries. Did you want to talk to him?"
Regina chuckles at this. Did Emma honestly think she wanted anything to do with that clown? But then she realizes Emma is not that naive. She's testing Regina, wants the brunette to say the words herself. "I'm here for you," Regina says softly, brown eyes glimmering. "For your art. To check up on it," she clarifies but the meaning is not lost.
Emma smiles coyly. She turns to her coffee maker which has finished heating up the beverage. "I've made some progress last night, but I thought your assistant's job was to check on me. Not you. To whom do I reserve this honor."
"I was in the vicinity," the lie is easy enough. It saves Regina's reputation. The last thing she wants to be is an omega crazed alpha. "And thought I might as well check myself. Sometimes it is better to do things yourself to get the results you want."
But Emma doesn't respond to that because her hands stumble on the mug as she pouring the coffee across from Regina. The mug hits the counter and liquid splashes through the air.
The coffee splatters all over Regina's expensive shirt and both of them sit there in shock.
"I'm so sorry," Emma blurts out, coming to life with a horrified gasp. "I'll get you a shirt right away." She rushes out to her bedroom, leaving Regina burning with embarrassment and from the coffee. She holds her ruined shirt out in front of her, keeping it from her scalded skin. Emma hurries back with one of her own shirts and gives the balled up shirt to Regina for her to change. Regina goes to the bathroom, not saying anything about this, which no doubt is not helping assuage Emma's guilt. But honestly, Regina couldn't care about this shirt. She's got money.
"Emma, it's fine," she says at last as Emma starts blabbing behind the closed door about taking the shirt to the dry cleaners. "I have many more like these. You can throw it out." She comes out, wearing Emma's shirt. Emma's shirt which smells like her- so soft and delicious- and it doesn't help the hard one she's got raging in between her legs. The one she's used special tape to mask and hold down. She can't wear dresses around Emma anymore. It's not possible.
"Throw it out?" Emma sputters, appalled by this idea. "Why?"
"It's fine, trust me," and Regina forces them to leave it at that. "Now, come and show me some of your progress."
Emma doesn't seem fully convinced but she does as asked, taking Regina to a room bigger than all the others. There are canvas frames against the wall, covered in cloth. There are some paint cans on the sides. A white cloth on the floor, speckles with paint with a stand on it, holding up a blank canvas.
Emma goes over to the pile of work she has and begins to slide her two last additions to the show out.
They look finished to Regina but she's not the artist. If Emma says they're not done then they're not.
One is depicting a forlorn looking alleyway, a girl huddled down the middle of it, knees up, head buried behind them.
The second one is a scene out of a nightclub. A woman wearing a red dress that stands out against the grays, blacks and whites, as she looks entirely out of place among the modern crowd. She looks like she came straight from the 1920s and she's not happy in the least about her odd surroundings.
A lot of these paintings have to do with loneliness, Regina notes. She wonders why it's such a poignant topic for Emma. She doesn't press, however, she knows it's a private issue.
"Good. You should be done by the time our show is happening."
Emma brightens at the term 'our show'. Regina hadn't meant to say it like that, but it's true. It's their show. "Will the room be constructed on time?"
"It better be," Regina growls and Emma laughs at this. They've got a new contracting company now and Regina's been nipping at their heels for them to get the place up and running how she wants it. They all seem so scared of her that one guy couldn't even hit the nail right; his hand kept shaking.
They stand about awkwardly now, having run out of safe conversation to make. Emma slides the paintings back; Regina looks at the blank canvas. She wonders what new creations Emma will make on it. She isn't aware of long she's staring until Emma's words jolt her back to reality.
"What are you looking at?"
"Your canvas. I just...I've always marveled at how easily art comes to artists."
Emma laughs at that; not unkindly. "It doesn't come easy. We have to fight to draw it out. Sort of like dragging an unwilling dog on a chain back home. Trying to get it to do what you want. Sometimes it doesn't listen and I can't paint what I want to. But on the odd occasion that it does listen, it's glorious and I never want to stop painting."
What an interesting analogy. When Regina doesn't say anything to that, Emma goes on.
"Would you like to learn how to paint?" Emma suggests at Regina's remark on how she's envious of her ability.
And when Emma suggests it so prettily, with such a happy glow in her eyes, how can Regina say no to her?
"I suppose I could try my hand at it."
"Great," Emma says and leaps to it, getting Regina adjusted on a stool in front of a fresh blank canvas. She hands her some brushes and gives her a palette of colors. Regina hasn't the faintest clue on what to do with them. She holds the brush up, after dabbing it into the blue paint, and Emma's hand comes to wrap around her wrist. "Here, I'll guide you," she says softly, leaning in and suddenly her warmth is only on Regina. The alpha can feel the hard points of Emma's nipples through the thin cotton graphic t-shirt she was given and she tries to steady her breathing.
"See, gentle strokes like this," Emma says into Regina's ear, hot breath ghosting over it, making shivers run down the alpha's spine.
Regina nods her head, at a loss for words. This all feels so sexual for some reason. Maybe she's just imagining it. But those doubts go out the window when Emma leans in harder, splaying a hand on Regina's inner thigh. Regina tenses at this, heart beating fast. Emma's hand is literally laying on her erection right now. There's no way she can't feel it. It's hard and hot.
She opens her mouth- to apologize, to laugh it off- she's not sure yet. Surely Emma feels awkward now. Surely Regina has made things improper between them. But to her surprise, Emma doesn't comment on this, just leans forward with more pressure until a small whimper elicits from Regina's throat.
"Keep your strokes gentle for now," Emma insists, still trying to teach Regina art, when Regina's mind is the farthest thing from art right now.
Regina nods her head and tries to keep her mind off of the hand on her thigh. Maybe Emma hasn't felt it? But that would be impossible. In the very least Regina can feel her hand. The weight heavy, and hot. Everything feeling super sensitive due to her heightened state right now.
"Try to feel the strokes. Imagine that you are them," Emma continues to speak, voice getting lower and closer to Regina's ear. "Be one with the art."
Regina is trying, but everything has seemed to go numb, deadened to any sensation but the one of Emma's hands on her. Regina's not even aware of what she's painting anymore, letting Emma do as she will with her limp hand.
"Make your strokes rougher. And rougher," Emma husked into Regina's ear, her hand directing Regina's erratic hand motions on canvas, splashing paint around. But Regina could barely focus. She was thinking on Emma's hand. On Emma's hand doing rougher and rougher strokes on her dick. Or even better, on Regina thrusting into Emma, gently at first, and then rougher and harder.
She throbbed with fullness. And then Emma moved her hand almost deliberately slowly down Regina's thigh, thumb brushing down and pressing against the head of Regina's cock. It was too much.
Regina's spine snapped upright and her breath caught in her throat as she horrifyingly came in her pants. And she knew Emma could feel it, her thumb right over where it was all coming from. A wet stain forms there and she is trapped in her orgasm, unable to do anything but ride it out, her hip bucking up as the peak of it crashed over her and made her want Emma's hand to wrap around her member and keep tugging more and more orgasms out of her.
Lashes flutter against her red cheeks as she comes to.
When she feels she can breath, she spins around to face Emma, uncertain. What did all this mean? But Emma's face indicated she was in no mood for conversation. Her eyes were lidded and her lips parted. "Regina," she murmured and Regina panicked. What were they doing?
She stood up so fast she almost knocked Emma over. "I forget. I have a meeting. I have to go," the flustered alpha apologized, rushing out of the apartment and not looking back as she snatched up her belongings.
She raced out the door, not looking back, because she knew if she did, she'd just rush back into Emma's arms.
Shit. This was bad.
Emma knew Regina was into her now. And Regina knew Emma liked her back too. But they couldn't have a relationship. They were both taken, not to mention they were client and boss. There could be no room between them for burgeoning romance or lust.
Most of all, Regina feels guilty. Maybe even ashamed she had so easily come. She wanted Emma to know she was so much better in bed than that.
God, and the look in Emma's eyes. Like the blonde had just wanted to eat her up. It took Regina's breath away with ferocity of it. Her inner alpha roared at her, telling her she was dumb for giving that all up. She should have stayed. But she hadn't.
She couldn't.
And yet she longs and longs. Her mind a frenzy and hormones rage in her body. She throws herself into some last minute work and doesn't go to bed until five in the morning, her eyes dry and bleary and extra member still hard from pent up arousal.
She can't focus, not truly, when all her mind can do is run replays of Emma's hand on her clothed dick, her breath hot in her ear, and her nipples hard on Regina's back.
Regina lets out an irritated sigh and looks down at her bulge, noticing that she's still got Emma's shirt on. She needs to give it back. But she doesn't even know if she can look the other woman in the face right now after all that happened. Regina's usually in great control of her emotions but right now she's a mixed bag and she's not loving it.
She retreats to her bedroom. Takes the shirt off. Looks at it.
Regina wishes she could sleep in Emma's shirt. Be wrapped up by her scent. But she knows if she does this, it would draw Robin's attentions. Still, she indulges tonight, because she's still sleeping in her lonely bed in the back of the art gallery before she goes home to him.
She pulls the shirt up to her nose and inhales deeply, her nude legs rubbing together as arousal flares to life inside her veins. She's already cum once today but it's not enough and she's been hard ever since leaving Emma's apartment. So her hand sneaks under the covers and slowly tugs at her rising erection and with her eyes closed, she imagines she's thrusting into Emma instead of her hand.
It works and she comes quickly and with a loud inhale, shoulders shaking. Warmth spills over her fist and onto her bed sheets but her erection still hasn't gone down and this time, she flips onto her stomach and grinds into the mattress hard, hoping the friction will give her some relief.
As soon as Killian comes into the apartment he knows Regina's been here. "Why does it smell like another alpha in here?"
Emma hums casually, looking down at the art magazine she's taken to ordering for inspiration. "She dropped by to visit. Said she had some concerns about the final pieces I'm working on for my collection before she drops it to sell."
He wrinkles his nose up, sniffing hard.
Emma made sure to cover up the smell of Regina's aroused state by opening up some cans of paint. The strong stench could wash almost anything away. But the one thing she can't cover up is her disappointment. She thought Regina would reciprocate. Would feel what Emma had felt.
God, what if she made a mistake? What if she had pushed her boss?
Would she get fired? Was her career over before it began?
He set the groceries down on the kitchen counter top, and began to put them away, oblivious to Emma's inner near anxiety and panic attacks. He couldn't even smell them because of the stench of paint. So she was left to wallow alone in her misery.
She excuses herself to the art room under the guise of doing some art but in actuality she stares at the painting Regina half managed to make and traces the still wet paint with her bare fingers, smudging the hopeful colors of blue and green up with purple so it becomes a drab mess.
She sits there for hours before she retires to bed, trading her jeans and tank top for an over sized shirt and boy shorts. She noticed Regina's shirt, dropped in her hurry and left on the floor while other things took place.
Emma lifts up Regina's shirt now. It's stained, the coffee settling into the material now. But it still smells like Regina. And as Emma crawls into bed, she tugs it up to her nose and inhales longingly, before she gets back up and places it under her underwear in the drawer.
Now in bed, she closes her eyes, drifting off into a troubled sleep.