A/N: The lyrics aren't mine, they're Darell Scott's 'Snow Queen and Drama Llama', with the pronouns altered to fit the context of a f/f relationship. Please let me know what you think!
Regina blinks, as though she expects the scene in front of her to dissipate with the fluttering of her lashes. A bottle of red wine rests on her coffee table; a sentinel over two glasses filled to the brim which she recognises to be from her own crockery cabinet. The room sits awash with a flickering glow, and she guesses every single candle she owns - spare those she'd been enjoying in the bath - has been set out and lit to create this beautiful setting. A fire roars magnificently in the hearth, casting light over the woman sitting on her sofa, who, after a moment's confusion, she recognises for who she is.
"Emma...?"
No authoritative pretence. No use of the blonde's last name.
The Sheriff merely nods, once, sending soft curls tumbling gently over her shoulder, before motioning in a way that seems uncharacteristically graceful that the Mayor should take a seat on the sofa opposite her. She does it as though this is her room - her space - and for now, that's exactly what it is.
The brunette doesn't move right away but remains standing in the doorway, staring at the blonde as though seeing her for the first time.
This is Emma? Emma?!
Pulling herself together, she pads lightly to her proffered seat, thankful for the fire that has warmed the stone beneath her feet. She pulls her robe to her body tightly before lowering herself against the cushions, continuing to drink in the woman sitting in front of her.
"You look-..."
The Sheriff raises a brow expectantly as Regina searches for the right term.
Even her damn eyebrows are magnificent.
"Yes, well... Very nice, Miss Swan."
She alters her tone to become suddenly business-like, tearing her gaze from the younger woman and straightening the hem of her robe distractedly. Emma, meanwhile, holds herself together; deciding to focus on Regina's words, rather than her tone.
"Thank you."
She says it softly and with none of the brittle distrust she usually saves for the brunette. Regina is peculiarly reminded of the first night the two met and looks up in surprise, scolding herself when her attention lingers too long, too appreciatively. She reaches down to take a sip from the wine glass closest to her, glancing at the bottle curiously. Its flavour is not what she'd been expecting; for one, it is delicious.
"This is good..."
"I'm glad you like it."
Again, that pleasantly soft tone, and Regina eyes the blonde warily.
Dear god, that dress fits her well...
"I wouldn't have figured you for a wine connoisseur, Sheriff."
Her remark is baited. She is deeply curious about Emma's choice of drink; the wine imbued with a delicate nose of chocolate and pepper. It's divine, but not at all something she would have thought the blonde would pick out. She waits for this disarming little charade to shatter into something more familiar. She waits for Emma to cuss, to roll her eyes, to adopt her ever-grating - yet really quite arousing - sarcastic facade.
It doesn't come.
"I'm not, really. I know wine better than I like wine... Personally, I prefer whisky, but, being a woman, wine is what tends to be offered. In my old line of work, anyway... And I wouldn't figure you to be particularly fond of whisky?"
Emma raises a brow in question, taking a sip from her glass. She's pretty sure that her knees are shaking slightly, but she crosses her legs and hopes Regina doesn't notice. After all; she's done this a hundred times before. She can play a part.
She tries to imagine the brunette as just another perp.
"No, I'm not too fond of whisky..."
Silence falls over them like a shroud and the Mayor takes another sip of her drink. She's incredibly unnerved by this entire situation. She wants to let her gaze roam over to the blonde and take in this new, intoxicating version of the Sheriff, but she's wary. Somehow, she knows this is a side to Emma that's just for her, and there is something both alarming and exhilarating in that knowledge. In the back of her mind, she understands that this is all part of their ongoing game, but she also understands that this isn't about her. This is about Emma.
And she wonders momentarily if the blonde is aware of this herself.
As the silence drags on, Emma fights the urge to begin fidgeting; eyes flickering up periodically to study the Mayor who keeps her own gaze cast carefully down at the half-empty bottle of wine on the table.
This isn't how this was supposed to go...
She takes a final sip of wine; the potent liquid coursing dizzyingly through her system, its thrumming heat indistinguishable from the blood that pounds a little sickeningly in her chest.
"...Would you like to dance?"
She asks.
Regina glances up at the Sheriff - sure she's misheard her - with an expression akin to shock. The blonde's cheeks flush an alarming shade of scarlet, but she keeps her head held high and rises gracefully from the couch; offering the Mayor her hand in a way that is so charmingly formal that the brunette takes it reflexively.
Emma's hand is warm in hers, and she notes an odd little twitch that flutters through slender fingers - the only physical sign of the blonde's nerves - as she's led silently into the centre of the room. She doesn't recognise the quiet melody coming from her music system to be anything she owns, and she waits uncertainly as the Sheriff stalks over to the CD player; flicking quickly through the tracks before finding one to her taste and turning up the volume.
Emma makes her way hesitantly back to the Mayor and places her hands awkwardly on the brunette's waist; her fingers slipping over the silk of the darker woman's bathrobe. Instinctively, Regina swaps their positions. She does so silently; not pointing out that she doubts the blonde has the first clue about leading, but simply pulling the younger woman a little closer and cradling her waist. Emma stands a fair bit taller in her heels, but when she goes to remove them, the Mayor gives a small nudge of her hand against the Sheriff's ribs, indicating she wishes things to remain the way that they are.
The music fades as a new song begins and Regina glances up at the blonde; finally allowing herself to give in to her. Deciding that if this is all an act, she will at least get a dance out of it, and holding her closer still; her head spinning dizzily with the smell of spiced vanilla. As lyrics begin to lay themselves over the pleasant picking of the guitar, the Sheriff offers her a shy smile, and after a moment's hesitation, she leans in for a taste.
They were waiting at the depot, but it wasn't for a train,
They were underneath the weather, seeking shelter from the freezing rain.
Snow Queen to Drama Llama, said, "you're weary to the bone!
And though I'm not accustomed to it, I invite you to my icy home ...Come on over...
I will put you on my table, I will rub you up and down,
I will take a Russian fur hat, and I'll wear it like a Snow Queen crown..."
And the mountains they did tremble,
As the walls came tumbling down,
And the feeling it was simple,
As the snow lay on the ground.
Drama Llama to her Snow Queen, said, "it's you I'm dreaming of.
All my life I've been a roamer, and it's led me to this pilgrim, love.
My eyes are overflowing; hell, they are not even tears,
They're the rushing of a river that will flourish for a thousand years..."
Snow Queen to Drama Llama says "I know just what you mean,
I went to see the gypsy, he said he saw you in my childhood dream..."
And her fingers they did tremble,
As her hair came tumbling down,
And their loving it was simple,
As their clothes lay all around...
Regina sighs as soft lips find her throat; the blonde's teeth chafing gently against her jaw before moving back down to breathe into the hollow of her collarbone, all the while continuing to sway to the music.
She lets her fingers glide over the expensive fabric of the Sheriff's dress. Every now and then she runs her hands simultaneously up the younger woman's hips; collecting the fabric to bunch slightly at the waist and thus expose a flash of thigh, but the blonde continues to move against her, while at the same time restricting her exploration.
The Sheriff is not an excellent dancer, but neither is she poor, and though the Mayor would never admit to such a thing out loud, the slight awkwardness in the way Emma allows herself to be led is peculiarly endearing.
Snow Queen and Drama Llama, they just could not make it last,
While they were living in the moment alright, they could not outlive their pasts...
It came rushing in to choke them, like a blind thief in the night;
Stealing kisses from a stranger, hoping this time they could get it right.
These masters of impermanence, they know everything must end,
Another quarter in the jukebox, and you play that song again and again...
And the mountains ceased their trembling,
And the walls began to rise.
And they saw what they were missing,
When they opened their eyes
And the mountains ceased their trembling,
And the walls began to rise.
And love turned into a memory,
When they made up their minds.
They were underneath the weather, seeking shelter from the freezing rain.
(It's cold outside...let me in...let me in.)
The music fades once more as another song begins and Emma presses her lips firmly against the Mayor's; her hands wandering to the front of the darker woman's robe and pulling deftly at the silk tie that cinches the fabric in at her waist.
"Go to the desk..."
The Sheriff's whisper is soft in the brunette's ear; nothing like the harsh venom used the last time she'd uttered the command. Regina complies with minimal hesitancy, stopping just short of the desk and turning back to regard the blonde levelly. Her eyes convey within them a very clear message: should Emma so much as think about repeating her stunt from last time, the game will come to an end.
In a way, this result could be argued as a victory for the blonde, and while Regina is almost certain that the Sheriff won't play her final hand now - not after the way things have changed tonight - she needs to know for certain.
Emma shakes her head and moves to back the Mayor the rest of the way towards the desk with a soft push of her thighs.
No. Not this time. This time it's different.
Pale fingers thread themselves through dark locks as the Sheriff brushes her lips slowly against the brunette's.
"I seem to remember you saying something about being left disappointed... Let's see if we can rectify that..."
It's a soft murmur; her lips never leaving the Mayor's as they whisper hot breath over sensitive flesh. Regina sighs as the loosened tie of her robe is snaked gently from her body and soft silk falls open to reveal her entirely. She runs her hand down to the hem of Emma's dress - plucking the material up pointedly - but the blonde steps away with another shake of her head.
"Not yet."
She admonishes quietly. The brunette frowns in response but pulls herself up onto the desk; manoeuvring herself into the position she'd taken on its surface the previous week. Emma moves around to where the Mayor's head rests as she had done that day, but this time her features are soft in the firelight, and she tucks her hair behind her ears; inadvertently making herself look disarmingly innocent, but serving the purpose of keeping heavy curls from covering her face. She runs her finger lightly over the small scar blemishing the Mayor's lip before climbing up onto the desk - careful not to jab the brunette with her heels - and straddling the darker woman's bare hips gently.
Regina marvels at the feel of soft silk contrasting with the hot flesh of Emma's bare legs against her own and raises a brow expectantly. The blonde dips her head to beg access, while her fingers wander deliberately over the bare skin of the brunette's torso.
Everything is slow - sensual - and Regina closes her eyes as the blonde caresses her breasts; first with her hands, and then - after moving to kneel between her legs - with her tongue. She drags her fingers teasingly up the soft length of the brunette's thighs, occasionally turning her wrist so that her fingers whisper against the darker woman's sex.
"You're so lucky..."
She murmurs, and the Mayor opens one eye distractedly to peer down at the blonde whose tongue is currently working a wet trail down from her navel.
"Hmm?"
"You're flawless... Beautiful..."
Regina closes her eyes once more, a soft smile creeping across her lips before gasping when the Sheriff's mouth reaches its target.
"No one is flawless, dear, but I admit, I'm pretty close to it."
Her words come out choked and gravelly as her breathing breaks into pleasured sighs, and she's not sure if she had meant them humorously or not. She isn't embarrassed by the Sheriff's claim; she is under much the same impression herself after all. She is surprised at the blonde's willingness to vocalise her opinion, however, and, while not flattered by information she already knows, she's peculiarly touched by the gesture; understanding it to be yet another shift in their ever-perplexing relationship. She wonders if Emma is aware of this also, but then wicked fingers enter her slickly and she decides to ponder over such things another time.
"Shit..."
She moves her hand down to rearrange the unruly tresses that have inevitably fallen to obscure her view of the blonde's face. Green eyes flash up at her, and while she can tell by the blush that creeps across the Sheriff's cheeks that she's a little uncomfortable being watched performing such intimate actions, Emma allows her to tuck escaped curls back in place.
The blonde quickens the pace of her fingers at the quiet urging of the Mayor, running her tongue firmly over the brunette's most sensitive spot before taking the bundle of nerves into her mouth. Toned thighs begin to tremble tellingly and she curls her fingers to rub against the raised patch of flesh at the darker woman's entrance as clear moisture begins to run down her wrist.
"Oh, god, please!"
Dark eyes clamp shut and the Mayor's lithe form shudders on the desk, her hands closing into tight fists and her mouth open in a silent scream.
Emma waits for the brunette to ride out her pleasure, keeping her fingers in place but easing up their frantic speed. She keeps her lips pressed to the darker woman's core until shaking hands find her hair clumsily and pull her away.
"That was-..."
Regina shakes her head, deciding she can't be bothered to find the correct term, sufficing instead to pull the younger woman back up onto her while finding her lips, caressing a soft - slightly damp - cheek with her thumb.
Emma runs her fingers through the brunette's hair as she leans down to hover over her lips. After what seems like an age, Regina's hands leave her face and move to her waist, pushing gently but firmly until their positions are reversed - the process a little awkward due to space - on the desk.
The brunette studies the younger woman lying beneath her intently; breathing in the lingering smell of her moisturiser and admiring the contrast of the delicate black fabric whispering across her pale skin. Blonde hair fans out around the Sheriff's head in a silken halo and Regina strokes a stray strand from her cheek before leaning down and whispering into golden tresses so quietly the words are instantly lost.
"Beautiful".