Emma pulls a face at herself in the bathroom mirror as she brushes her teeth; holding back her hair as she spits white froth into the sink. Rinsing her mouth out with water, she removes her glasses and shuts them away in the cabinet, replacing them with her contacts. Pulling a brush through her curls with an occasional wince, she shakes out tamed tresses and slings her towel back onto the hook by the door.
The lack of angry voices from the living room allows her to deduce that her housemate has not made her way home for any unknown reason to stumble upon her present guest, and as such, she slips out of the bathroom in a pale flash of exposed flesh; a small smile touching her lips as she pointedly ignores the Mayor and makes her way upstairs, thus missing the thunder playing across the older woman's face.
"Oh, are you still here?"
The blonde teases, head cocked to the side as she waits for the Mayor to pay attention to her.
Regina looks up slowly, expressionless, as the muscles in her face seem suddenly numb. She takes in the Sheriff's appearance distractedly, her mind struggling to process the hatefulness glimpsed without the younger woman's knowledge.
Emma waits patiently, her grin faltering slightly as the brunette studies her with clinical indifference. She wonders if this is part of a game, and decides to wait for further explanation. She wears a very simple, dark green shirt, buttoned demurely high, with its hem tucked into the washed-out denim of the sinfully small shorts the Mayor had spied - much to her delight - when they'd rummaged through her wardrobe together. As the silence continues, the blonde becomes increasingly unsettled, glancing down at her bare legs critically; trying to figure out what she's done wrong.
Regina studies the Sheriff coldly, dark eyes blackening with lust as she drinks in yet another version of the chameleon blonde, but they remain absent of the cautious warmth and affection that the younger woman has glimpsed recently. Her head hurts and she's unsure whether the pain is caused by Emma's betrayal - not to mention a sense of anger at herself for allowing the insufferable little bitch to deceive her the way she has - or the simple need to launch herself at the younger woman.
To fuck her.
To kill her.
"Regina?... Is something wrong?"
Clueless. Despicably unaware. Pretty eyes shining with innocence; a whore's trick, you hateful bitch. Do you honestly think you're going to get away with this?
Expression softening with professional skill, the brunette clears her throat and forces a seductive smirk to grace her lips.
"No, dear, I was just lost in my thoughts, there's nothing wrong."
A playful grin alights the Sheriff's face once more; teeth flashing as she makes her way over to stand in front of the Mayor. Manicured hands find the smooth flesh of her thighs, tracing intricate patterns higher and higher until the brunette pulls the blonde down to straddle her lap.
In our world, they would call you a Siren. Deceitful. Conniving. Bitch.
Scarlet lips brush against pink, devouring slowly, deeply, as hands explore.
"We should-... We should lock the door... In case Henry comes by during recess..."
Emma's voice is a breathless murmur into dark tresses and the Mayor digs her nails cruelly into soft flesh, biting down on the vulnerable column of the blonde's throat; none of the usual sensual pressure, but simply sharp teeth closing with violent fury.
"Ah! Fuck!"
Pale hands scramble fitfully over the soft silk of the brunette's jacket, struggling to find purchase before pushing their owner's aggressor shakily away.
"Not so-...Not so hard..."
Emma scolds uneasily. Regina studies the blonde intently as green eyes water and the younger woman fingers abused flesh tentatively; her expression momentarily fearful as she returns the Mayor's gaze.
"Yes. You're right. Locking up might be a good idea, Miss Swan."
She agrees, and the Sheriff pushes herself off of her lap, battling to keep her composure as pain-induced tears threaten to spill out onto her cheeks. She glances surreptitiously down at her fingers to check for blood, but they remain thankfully untainted. Hurrying over to the door to engage the lock, she turns with a sharp gasp as the brunette slams her roughly against the painted wood.
"Hey!"
Lust battles with unsettled caution and lucks out as Emma wraps her arms around the Mayor's waist and pulls her flush, searching out scarlet smudged lips and laughing huskily as Regina kisses her hungrily.
"I should wear shorts more often..."
She laughs a little nervously.
I'm sure you will, dear, because once I'm done with you, you can kiss your job, your life, this town goodbye. You deserve nothing. You will have nothing. I will ruin you, the way you're trying to ruin me. I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do.
"I wouldn't object."
Is all that she says. Again, that low laugh; the Sheriff oblivious to the brunette's wrath. Regina swallows the sound swiftly, closing her eyes as slim fingers work deftly at the clasp of her dress pants before dipping slyly beneath the lace that covers her sex. She rests her own hands over the blonde's slender throat; delighting in the way the younger woman stiffens as her fingers press down softly. Dangerously. She can feel Emma's pulse, vital, beneath her fingers, and smirks when the blonde gives in to trust and simply continues her blissful ministrations as she increases the pressure ever so slightly.
I should finish this now that I have the chance. The way whoever painted that damning scar across your stomach should have finished it. The way any of the men you stupidly allowed to follow you home should have finished it. You've spent the last ten years fucking around, indulging in whatever sins your crude mind craved, never having to deal with the pressure of who you really were. The Saviour.
A mother.
You have toed the line to ruin me for too long now, and I'll admit; you must harbour your own breed of magic, as you've kept me from seeing it these past few weeks.
Cleverer than you let on.
We will never know if good prevails. There is no good. You are nothing but a malicious bitch.
No better than I.
You threw your child away the same way you would a ripped condom, and think you can just come back into his life? You think you can build up a case against me?
Those papers. Those documents. Were you planning on filling them out after you pushed for just a little more fun?
Perhaps we should have fucked on top of them.
What do you think?
It matters not.
I know now.
You were good, but I'm better.
You should have left this town when I warned you to get out.
It would have been wise.
Because, you see... I think-... I think there may only be one solution to this little impasse at which we find ourselves, dear.
The Curse might break, but I'll find a way. I always do.
You should have stayed in fucking Boston.
Regina tightens her grip as she climaxes violently, breathing heavily as she pulls herself back under control. Emma makes a choked sound in her ear; hands finding slim wrists and pulling the brunette's dangerous fingers away from her throat. She offers the Mayor a nervous grin which doesn't quite serve to hide the panic that dances in her eyes.
She looks curiously young. Fragile.
"Sorry, dear."
The brunette observes the red marks left by her fingers with mild curiosity, dark eyes flickering briefly to the purple mark left by her teeth. She touches the skin there gently, observing the way the blonde shudders.
Clasping up her dress pants, the Mayor straightens her shirt and neatens her hair. She returns the warm smile the Sheriff offers her as she takes a seat at the dining room table with surprising ease and believable sincerity.
Why did you have to go and do this... Why!?
"I best be on my way actually, Sheriff. Not all of us have the luxury of untrustworthy plumbing to excuse us from work."
"I am working!"
"Yes... I imagine you are."
She sighs, dark eyes flickering briefly to the slim folder that sits atop innocent paper.
"I will see you soon, I'm sure."
"I'd imagine so."
Emma offers her a friendly wave, and the Mayor unlocks the door swiftly and slips from sight before she either kills her or breaks down.
Why?
"... Are you seriously looking into this?"
"Huh?"
Emma glances over to her bedroom doorway where Mary Margaret stands at the threshold. The schoolteacher raises the file left by Gold as her brow furrows pensively. The blonde's eyes widen slightly in surprise and she motions that her housemate should come in.
"Well yeah. I was going to do it sooner, but Gold mislaid the paperwork... Why? Shouldn't I?"
"Oh, no, I think you should... I think it's a good thing - great, actually - so long as you're sure you're ready?"
"Wait... What?"
The Sheriff frowns in confusion, plucking the folder from Mary Margaret's fingers and flipping it open. She scans an official-looking document regarding the pawnbroker's damage claims and insurance curiously. Everything seems to be in order, so far as she can tell, anyway; after all, she has merely been collecting any outstanding legal documentation relating to the storm and cataloguing it. Making a copy before allowing the insurance firm to deal with the issue. She is about to enquire as to why Gold should be exempt from legal aid - sure, he's hardly one in need of monetary assistance, but she can't exactly be seen to show favouritism - when she notices the file to be thicker than expected. Leafing through the subsequent pages she frowns.
"What's this?"
She speed-reads through several of the court forms, each going into further depth regarding parental custody and child protection acts. Sighing, she closes the folder with a frown, before catching the curious gaze fixed upon her.
"I, uh-... I was unaware that was in there..."
"Oh... Look, if I wasn't supposed to know you asked Gold for help, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry, I just thought I recognised the folder, and-"
"-I didn't."
"Sorry?"
"I didn't ask Gold for help."
"Oh."
"Still... I guess it wouldn't be the first time he's taken things on himself..."
She glances up to match Mary Margaret's concerned confusion and shrugs awkwardly.
"I-... I'm still figuring things out..."
Recognising her clear reluctance to discuss the matter further, the schoolteacher breaks into an affectionate smile and offers the blonde a friendly gesture with her hand which suggests she will pry no further.
"I was thinking of ordering pizza for dinner if you wanted?"
"Oh, hell yes."
"You want to share one?"
Mary Margaret asks, before laughing conspiringly at the incredulous look the Sheriff throws her and shaking her head, raising her hands in mock surrender.
"Ok, ok, one each!"
She takes her leave and heads back down into the living room to place their order, Emma calling loudly from her bed
"Large!"
"Medium!"
"If you order medium you have to order garlic bread!"
"If I order medium you can just eat the salad in the fridge should you find yourself to be starving!"
"Over my dead body! Large!"
"Where the hell do you even put it? Don't you know gluttony is a sin?"
"You're just jealous! So is envy!"
"Shush, I'm ordering! Quit yelling, I'm pretty sure the neighbours can hear you!"
"Bite me!"
Emma grins as she hears Mary Margaret mutter with affectionate irritability from the kitchen. Smile faltering slightly, she frowns down at the folder in her lap. Opening it, she removes the pages that relate to the storm and places them on her bed, before tossing the rest of the documents into the trashcan at the end of her bed without a second glance.