When she is cruel, she is very, very
cool and when she is kind she is lavish.
Judy Grahn - Detroit Annie, Hitchhiking
On her knees, Emma is almost bearable.
Democracy has its perks, but being Mayor never compared to the instinctive dominance of being a Queen. Though she never sought the power directly, never wanted the crushing weight on it on her shoulders day and night, Regina had found a certain dark enjoyment in it, of seeing those who would once have hurt her bow and scrape in her presence. Regina has always been able to make them tremble with a flick of her fingers; it's only now she's discovering there's more than one way to perform that very trick as something other than a punishment.
Showing up here is irresponsible, Regina knows. The last thing she wants is to become further entangled in Emma's life, since they're already too far past being enemies for comfort. It's just that the slow burn of need she used to slake with Graham's weekly visits has returned with a roar, awakened by the way that Emma has been so competent in both worshipping and degrading her.
"We should not be doing this," Emma mumbles as she pushes Regina's skirt up over her hips. "Having a double shot of tequila right now would still be more appropriate than this."
"Shut up," Regina orders, which is becoming a habit in its own right. Everything Emma says infuriates Regina, makes her want to conjure up the fireballs that she promised Henry she wouldn't. She's managing to keep the impulse almost entirely under control, but when the purple mist starts to leak from her fingertips, only two things distract her: the easily replenished stock of Vicodin, and the mouth of Emma Swan, in all its sulky, talented glory.
Emma responds to the very clear command by sinking her teeth into the tender flesh of Regina's inner thigh instead. On instinct, Regina grabs a fistful of disgustingly blonde hair, and tugs sharply in warning.
"Only you could be haughty about getting fucked on the sinks," Emma grumbles, before charting a less painful course north with her lips, the tip of her nose grazing Regina's already damp underwear before kissing her way way to Regina's other knee.
"Would you rather go back and share?" Regina sneers, enjoying the extra leverage that a hold on Emma's hair gives her, punctuating the question with another sharp tug.
"You'd cry if I did," Emma mocks, her fingers massaging Regina's bare calves, chuckling softly as Regina flexes the muscles in response. "You've already given away how much you want me, just by showing up."
"And if I needed my car serviced, I'd have gone to the garage," Regina bites back. "Don't overestimate your value, dear. That's an amateur mistake."
"I'm no amateur," Emma agrees with a shrug, pulling Regina's legs over Emma's shoulders and pressing her mouth against the silk barrier of Regina's underwear, starting with the first few teasing flicks that make Regina's hips jolt forward in anticipation. But then Emma is getting up off her knees, forcing Regina's legs higher as she stands, until Regina's head thumps against the dingy mirror, its silvered surface peeling in the corners and distorting the poor light in the room. "I'd grab on to something, if I were you," Emma adds, and in one fluid gesture she's split the seams of Regina's almost brand new panties and thrown them somewhere in the corner.
The toes of her black high heels are hitting the mirror now, and Regina feels thoroughly pinned in this position, and far too exposed if anyone comes looking for Emma. Expecting a quick fumble fully-clothed to take the edge off, Regina is now reminded of the considerable upper body strength that Emma is holding her in place with. She's about to protest until she feels Emma's tongue against now-bare flesh and the change in pressure hits Regina like a truck.
"Fuck!" she gasps, but can't form words for much longer, because Emma is in relentless mode now, perhaps with her mind on the invisible ticking clock that's looming over this encounter.
"Mmm," Emma murmurs, letting the vibration of the sound course through Regina's hardened clit before circling it in strong, determined circles, the rhythm disrupted only when Emma shifts lower and begins thrusting her tongue inside Regina, the muscle held rigid in the way that drives Regina halfway out of her mind. There's a twinge of pain in her lower back, sharp and enough to make her gasp in pain, but the surging tide of endorphins quickly cancels it out, even though Emma pauses for a second to peer through the 'v' of Regina's legs in question, perhaps even in fleeting concern.
"Keep. Going," Regina demands through gritted teeth. If she's going to spend the rest of the week favoring her back when she sits, it's damn well going to be worth it. Emma, for once, does what the hell she's told and by the time she sucks Regina's clit between her lips, Regina is arching into a desperately necessary orgasm that flows through every inch of her, the warmth and relaxation of it reaching all the way to her toes.
"Wow," Emma teases, pulling away and wiping her mouth with the sleeve-covered back of her hand, because she has all the class of a serving wench sometimes. "You went off like a rocket. Maybe you shouldn't leave it 'til you're desperate for it."
"Be quiet," Regina groans, lowering her legs gently back to the floor and grimacing as she unfolds herself into a more dignified position. Emma moves in for a sudden kiss, but Regina ducks it, reaching for her purse instead. She roots through the black Prada bag, dislodging her careful arrangement of keys, stationery and other essentials, eyes flicking to the mirror once her search produces the necessary plastic bottle.
Her mascara is smeared from the heat that flushed her face and made a light sweat break out, and her lipstick is a ghost from the way she was biting on her bottom lip and then forcing them together in an attempt to hold back her reactions to Emma's touch. Regina frowns at her crumpled red blouse, the stiff cotton no match for her bending and twisting it seems. Her blazer is out of place, and she shrugs it back into place, using her free hand to tug her skirt back down. She'll have a word about the discarding of expensive underwear in a moment, just as soon as she deals with the pain in her back.
Emma's watching her in the gloomy mirror the whole time, blonde curls even messier than normal, a pink flush of arousal evident on the chest visible above her black tank top. Her leather jacket is thrown beside the sinks, some leaking water trickling towards it that Regina doesn't particularly care to warn her about.
"You'll get your turn," Regina huffs, popping the cap and shaking out the first two pills. The rest she can top up in the car, without any judging eyes on her. "Aren't you going to demand I share this time?"
"Nah," Emma shakes her head, shoving her hands in the pockets of her black jeans, but not before Regina notices the shake. "Part of the deal is nothing else, not just giving up the booze. Besides, they can really take the edge off, and you're not getting away with it that easily."
"You're not seriously going along with this charade?" Regina mocks, turning to look Emma in the eye. "Or have you let those idiots convince you there really is something wrong with you?"
It's wrong, and Regina knows it.
She knows a desperate soul as well as anyone, and Emma Swan is in pain so palpable that it hangs like a cloud around her, something almost tangible. But the urge to compete, to prove Snow White wrong over and over again, surges up just as surely as the pills Regina dry swallows go down. Regina knows all too well that feeling like she has no control is the real reason to try and obliterate the world around her, and perhaps the Savior is simply doing what Regina did with magic and murder, only in this world its done with liquor and ill-advised but satisfying sex.
Or maybe Emma is an alcoholic, finally reaching out for the kind of structured help that Regina has never been offered or understood. Like Emma's mother before her, any slight deviation from the paths of goodness and wellness will be seized upon like a national emergency-everyone from friends to strangers offering everything they can to help the golden child.
It's that bitterness that makes Regina's decision for her.
"Are you sure you don't want some?" Regina asks, shaking out another pill and hiding her smirk as Emma's greedy gaze falls on Regina's palm. "Only you seemed very insistent that I taste myself on your lips, and if we were to combine the two..."
When there's not even a squeak of protest from Emma, Regina places the pill quite deliberately on the curve of her own tongue, pulling Emma close with forceful fingers wrapping around the back of her neck. For a moment, a storm roils across Emma's features, those sea-green eyes darkening in determination, but as Regina slips her tongue into Emma's open, waiting mouth, the conflict passes. It's a messy kiss, wet and uncoordinated, and after a moment Emma pulls away to swallow, the chalky bitterness of the pill no doubt unpleasant for her.
"I'll take another," Emma dares her, but she claims another kiss before Regina can move, expressing frustration in the sharpness of her teeth pulling on Regina's bottom lip in the way she can't help moaning about. Her lips tingle as she reaches for another pill, and Emma watches intently as they repeat the little dance, eyes flickering only once to the door, perhaps her last thought of what she should be doing right in this moment.
"Thanks," she says, full of mock sincerity. "Now, about my turn..."
"Well," Regina replies, yanking the tank top up over Emma's breasts, and unhooking her bra with the same directness. "I should really leave you here. Let you get back to your important meeting."
"And yet you're undressing me," Emma points out, helpfully popping the buttons on her jeans.
"You're right," Regina admits, slipping her right hand beneath the stiff denim, fingertips wedged against the more pedestrian cotton of Emma's underwear. "Which makes me a very," Regina pauses, pressing her fingers hard against Emma's clit, panties already soaked through. "Very," another press of her fingers, this time curling them to prolong the pressure. "Bad influence."
"Uh huh," Emma breathes, her head already tipping back as she fights not to close her eyes. "Not gonna argue with that."
Regina withdraws her hand in one swift motion.
"The hell?" Emma splutters, glaring at Regina again.
"If you're too weak-willed to resist me, I'll have to help you out," Regina explains, reaching for her purse after wiping her hands a little theatrically on a paper towel. "So run along back to your meeting. Don't let me stop you."
It takes more resolve than she'd like to admit, but Regina turns on her heel and marches out of the washroom, turning down the first corridor on the right and slipping out of the fire exit she'd come in through in the first place. Too much has changed since the curse broke, but Regina still knows this town like the back of her hand, convenient exits and all.
She's so sure that Emma will slink back to her gathering of whiners, that Regina doesn't think to scan the parking lot as she marches back towards the Mercedes. She's putting the key in the lock when she's tackled from the side, hitting the tarmac hard as the air whooshes from her lungs.
"What the-" she starts, but the shock of blonde hair isn't really a surprise.
"I don't take well to being left hanging, your Majesty," Emma grunts, picking herself up off Regina. Emma's wild-eyed, her clothes now wet from the wet tarmac, and Regina doesn't want to think what this has done to the fine material of her suit. Thankfully the Vicodin has kicked in, so she won't feel the pain until she's poking the bruises in the morning.
"You could at least help me up," Regina groans, but using the door handle for leverage, she manages it. "You didn't go back to your meeting."
"No," Emma says, grabbing Regina by the hips and pressing her against her own car. "I had more pressing matters to attend to."
"You are not going to do anything out here where anyone can see," Regina warns, but Emma just leans in close to make sure Regina sees the smirk.
"Oh, I am," Emma says, smug to a fault. "And the way I know that is you're already clenching your fists because you're not sure you can stop yourself from touching me."
"How a friendless orphan got to be so confident is beyond me," Regina sighs, and it's accidental on her part, but it makes Emma choke on her retort, face turning an unattractive shade of puce.
"I'm not-" Emma spits, apparently so angered that she doesn't know which part of the comment to attack first. Regina smiles quickly at having regained something like the upper hand.
"Oh, did I upset you?" Regina teases, her babying voice simply gasoline on the barely-contained fire that is Emma's temper. A good girl might know when to stop, recognize where the risk outweighs the reward, but Regina has long been hopeless at knowing when to hold back, and sometimes she thinks she lacks the ability to altogether. "Question is, Emma, whether that's reason enough to stop you begging me to fuck you, after all?"
Emma hesitates for a moment, the murderous look in her eyes offset by flaring nostrils and heaving breaths that Regina hasn't seen since the hospital, on the joint-worst night of her life. Just when Regina thinks she's about to receive the slap she actually kind of craves, Emma grabs her by the lapels of her blazer instead, crushing Regina's lips in a kiss that might as well be a punch.
Tired of teasing, Regina relents and slips her hands beneath Emma's tank top, pressing palms flat against the soft muscles of her abdomen. Emma leans into the touch, trying to use her strength to her advantage, but Regina's well-versed in how to take control over a stronger body.
With a sharp shove and a twist of Emma's hips, Regina has her pressed against the side of some stranger's truck.
"Not so upset, hmm?" Regina confirms, before latching onto the straining muscle on the side of Emma's neck. The girl is so delicate in these isolated ways that Regina finds her mind wandering to the old world, to memories of staring in a mirror and demanding that Sidney call her the fairest of all. Snow would have been no challenge to that, not with her homely features and childish pout, but Emma, had she grown there would have been competition indeed.
There isn't much room to maneuver at first, since Regina has Emma pinned firmly in place, but nonetheless Regina lets her hand grasp Emma's breast, through the fabric at first, cheap and worn beneath Regina's hands, and then under it, with the far more pleasant sensation of soft cotton the only barrier to her touch.
Emma's nipple is already stiff, from arousal or cold Regina can't be sure, but it hardens further under deft pinches and flicks that make Emma's stony defiance in the slightest of squirming motions and quietest of moans.
"This is how I'd fuck a girl like you," Regina whispers, lying through her teeth. "Back in my castle, I mean. And you might be a princess-in name only-but this is how you're used to being treated, isn't it? I don't need to see your face, and you don't need to see mine. Cheap, dirty, anonymous."
"I happen to choose those things," Emma grits out, her pitch rising slightly as Regina's other hand starts unbuttoning jeans again.
"Is this how my son was conceived?" Regina asks, in spite of herself. Her voice is thick with the emotion of it. "With that overgrown manchild Rumple ruined all our lives to find? Another tawdry little moment in a backseat, in a motel where you can't turn the light on because you don't dare to look at the sheets?"
"Go to hell," Emma spits, and this time she actually tries to fight Regina off. "You don't talk about it. Don't talk about Henry at a time like this."
Regina responds by slipping her fingers beneath cotton panties again, her fingers sliding firmly against a shocking wetness that even she hadn't anticipated.
"See?" Regina crows. "You don't care what it takes, so long as I keep touching you."
"No," Emma lies, her arm flailing out as though to strike, but instead her hand wraps around Regina's neck, pulling her closer still. "But... fuck, I need something... something."
"Yes, you do," Regina confirms. "You need a drink. Or some of my little helpers. Or maybe you need me to do this to you a few times a week until you can start to forget we hate each other."
Her fingers are moving with real intent now, Emma sinking into the contact degree by degree, the tension in her shoulders disappearing, until it's all in the trembling thighs that barely hold her up. But for Regina's insistent groping and the cool metal surface of the truck, Emma would have already crumpled to the ground, Regina's sure of it.
"I don't... hate you," Emma admits, twisting just enough to let her lips brush Regina's for a moment.
"Well, you should," Regina replies, and despite a momentary protest from her wrist, she yanks Emma's jeans down far enough to get room to work. The rocking of Emma's hips practically pulls Regina's fingers inside before she even decides to make the move, and her silent punishment is to pinch harder and more insistently at Emma's nipple until her back arches and the breathy 'oh's from her mouth start running together in a low kind of sobbing.
It's adding a third finger that has Emma on the edge, but while Regina isn't entirely experienced in other women, Regina mimics her own actions from many a lonely but satisfying night, keeping Emma half a moment from orgasm until she's pounding on the side of the truck with her fist, unable to verbalize her demand for release.
"Something you wanted?" Regina taunts, stilling the determined thrust of her fingers and easing the pressure from the heel of her hand against Emma's clit. That Regina's hand is so slippery just makes her feel a little drunk on the smugness, and she vows in that moment that Emma will lick every last inch of Regina's hand clean.
Just as soon as the stubborn idiot admits she wants Regina to let her come.
"Do it," Emma spits after a moment, tugging on Regina's neck in warning. If anyone stumbles across them, in this dark corner of the parking lot, there'll be no excuse they can offer. Regina's painfully aware that this is exactly what it must look like and her own knees are still just a little weak from Emma's efforts in the bathroom earlier.
"Do what?" Regina asks, mocking with her fake confusion.
"Keep going," Emma groans. "Please."
The word hangs between them like a handshake, quivering as they wait for it to be accepted. Regina weighs the cruelty of stopping again, but one meeting with the ground has been enough for one day. Besides, there's some small part of her that wants to see Emma undone again, that unguarded bliss in her expression when she forgets who she is and where she is and who exactly is touching her; that's a sight to see, and Regina doesn't want to deny herself any longer.
She resumes her movement then, shorter and sharper this time, fingers curled almost protectively over the small ridges that are reducing Emma to a shaking mess in Regina's grip.
When Emma comes, it's almost resentful, and Regina savors every second. Her arm wrapped around Emma's chest means Regina can feel every ripple and hear every gulp, breath and moan of satisfaction. When Regina starts to move away, Emma is the one to clutch at Regina's forearm and hold her in place. With a shrug, Regina turns Emma, fingers not slipping out even a little, and this time when she comes, Emma sighs her climax against the hollow of Regina's collarbone.
"That was worth the wait," Emma says eventually, eyes still squeezed shut as she leans back against the truck's door. Regina frees her aching hand with some reluctance, and as she smiles in something like victory, she makes good on her promise to herself, pressing sticky fingers against Emma's lips until she takes the hint and begins to slowly lick them clean, unfazed at being commanded to taste herself that way.
Regina's about to say something in response when the door to the Rec Center is thrown open, light spilling a little too close to the dark corner Regina parked in. Both women begin hastily fixing their clothes without speaking, and they seem to have gone unnoticed as the group members file out into a brisk Maine evening.
"Well," Emma starts to say, but she freezes at the sound of her own name. "Shit!" She gasps, looking at Regina in panic. "My parents."
"Emma?" Charming's voice booms out, no doubt he honed his projection during all those years of chasing sheep through dull green valleys.
"So much for anonymous," Regina sighs, rolling her eyes as she pulls a pair of gloves from her purse. Emma's clothes may be back in order, but her face is flushed and the wild bounce to her blonde curls suggests she's been doing a lot more than sharing her feelings over lukewarm coffee. "Go to them, or else they'll see you with me, and I am in no mood for another lecture."
"Too late," Emma says, as Snow appears in the glow from the doorway.
"Emma!" She calls out, and Regina focuses very hard on keeping the sneer from her face. "We just came down to see how your first meeting went."
"You're not really supposed to do that," Emma starts to explain, grinding the toe of her leather boots against the parking lot surface. "It's anonymous, remember? A place for people to get away from judgment."
"We're not judging," Charming interrupts. "But the book your mom read said that it's important to support you in person wherever possible."
"Why is she here?" Snow snaps, frowning at Regina. "You mean she's allowed to come check up on you, but we're not?"
"Relax," Regina sighs, unable to keep quiet a moment longer. "I simply asked Emma when we could meet to discuss Henry's schedule, and she said to meet her here after her... appointment."
"Right," Emma says, seizing gratefully on the lie. "We were just going to have a drink, I mean a coffee, and sort out the next week or two."
"Well, maybe you could do that tomorrow," Charming says, laying a heavy hand on Emma's shoulder. "Because we were thinking that until you're feeling better, you and Henry should come stay in the new house with us."
"Why would I agree to that?" Emma asks, and Regina watches for the twitch in Emma's cheek to say that she's halfway to pissed; Regina doesn't have to watch for long.
"Just to take the pressure off," Snow assures her. "You know I'm happy to cook and help with Henry, so it just makes sense-"
"No, thank you," Emma says, as firmly as Regina's ever heard her refuse anything.
"It's just the lease is due for renewal on your place," Charming chimes in again. "And while Kathryn is working really hard to get everything fixed up and transferred into the right names, there's a chance that property won't be ours in a couple of weeks anyway. And we mentioned that we had room for you, which Kathryn seemed to think was a bit of a relief, with all the rehoming issues..."
"So I'm going to be homeless?"Emma splutters. Of all the problems she expected once the curse broke, this hadn't even made the top twenty.
"Not necessarily," Emma's father assures her, as patronizing as ever. If she were a little bit closer, Regina might just find it impossible to resist kicking him in the shins. "But that sort of thing can be stressful, so we didn't want you to have to deal with it. I know you want to find a home here in Storybrooke-"
"I want to find a lot of things," Emma cuts him off. "I mean, there's nothing to stop me going back to Boston now, right?"
"You wouldn't!" Snow barks, right before Regina can express her own horror at the idea. Emma leaving is one thing, but Henry being so far away is quite another. The worst part of it being that Regina knows he wouldn't think twice before agreeing to go with Emma, regardless of their current disappointment in each other. "You only just found us, Emma."
"And whose fault is that? I looked for a family my whole life," Emma sighs, shoving clenched fists into her jacket pockets. "But all I got was you guys."
It's such a cheap shot that Regina almost applauds.
"Emma!" Charming scolds, as Snow bursts into tears, her husband pulling her close while Emma stares at the ground, every bit the rebellious teenager. Regina remembers that impulse well, in fact she still fights it (and loses) on a near-daily basis. She also remembers the consequences though, her mother's sudden white-hot rages and the cuts and bruises that would persist through every attempt at a healing charm; it's just another way in which these people will have it bad, but never just quite as bad as it could be.
"I didn't mean it like that," Emma says, but her lowered head suggests she meant it exactly that way. "I'm just tired. From all the uh, sharing."
"We understand this is a difficult time," Charming persists. "But we only want what's best for you."
"Thanks," Emma says. "Anyway, I have this stuff to sort out for Henry. So I'll come see you tomorrow, I guess?"
"Okay," Snow sniffs, just about getting her emotions in check. Regina's palm itches with the urge to slap her, and doing it with the hand that just fucked Emma has its own twisted appeal.
The two idiots skulk off towards their own car, and Regina watches them go, keeping her eyes very carefully looking in any direction that isn't Emma's. The avoidance only lasts so long, before Emma sighs loudly enough to crack a rib, and Regina is forced to pay attention once more.
"Enjoy the show?" Emma asks. "Seems like the kind of crappy thing to say that you'd approve of."
"Need a drink?" Regina enquires, and it's only half-malicious at best. She's already thinking about the little white ovals in her purse, and just like that she can feel the aches and pains start to creep back in, like a chill creeping over her body.
"Ha, ha," Emma says, dry as the desert. "We really should make a plan for Henry."
"Well, you can always move in with me," Regina offers. "It's a very big house, we'd barely see each other. And it might make... this... happen in more sanitary locations."
"You're hilarious tonight," Emma says. "I don't feel like wrestling with my car tonight, though - gimme a ride home?"
Regina shrugs, unlocking the car and waiting for Emma to come around and slip into the passenger seat.
"I meant it," Regina says, starting the car and flicking the radio straight to classical, not because she prefers it, but because Emma actively doesn't. "It would be better for Henry than living somewhere that looks like a frat party just stumbled through it."
"Hey!" Emma protests. "I keep the place neat. Mostly."
"The offer is there," Regina says, keeping her eyes trained on the road like ogres might appear at any moment. "Try not to hurt yourself by thinking about it."
"Sure," Emma says, bringing her knees up to her chest, not bothering to buckle up. "I'll start packing tonight."
She dissolves into helpless laughter, and Regina grips the steering wheel so tightly the seams of her gloves threaten to burst. One of these days, Regina vows to herself again, she'll learn not to offer anything to the one group of people who throw everything back in her face.
A/N: This fic has been kicking. my. ass. so please let know what you think and if it's worth all this blood, sweat and tears!