"What are you doing in here?"
The Queen demands angrily, dark eyes narrowing as she drinks in the pale form draped over her bed.
My bed. Mine! And while the little bitch might be proving herself an enjoyable game to be played, she doesn't deserve to do so here... I saw fit to fuck her on the floor of a dungeon. She has no place where I lay my head to sleep. She-
Furious thoughts, but they come to a sudden, screeching halt, and while the brunette is vaguely aware of the curious touch of the younger woman's magic shrouding her possessively, it barely registers as her gaze fixes on the book held between slim fingers.
"Where did you get that?"
She demands with a hint of horror colouring her tone, and the blonde smirks at her from her lazy position propped against the headboard, bouncing the foot of one bare leg crossed over the other bent knee playfully.
"Do you remember the night I fixed your washing machine?... I mean, I don't entirely get this whole Her/ You thing, but I guess you must have been lurking around in there somewhere?"
"I..."
"You, well, Regina had made us a martini- like that even came close to covering the cost of the parts I had to get her, but anyway- it turned into a few more, and I can't for the life of me remember how we got onto the topic, but you- she- told me something pretty interesting... Do you remember?"
"No..."
"No? Well, I do. I remember. She told me she'd tried starting to keep a journal in order to sort through some of her thoughts after everything that happened with Robin, but that it just wasn't working how it used to. I asked her about that- asked her when she'd tried keeping one before- and she told me about the diaries she'd kept as a girl. As a young woman... Diaries just like this one."
Emma smiles innocently as she holds up the time-worn pages, and the Queen attempts to lunge for the bed, but she is unable to do much more than stumble where she stands. She has allowed the younger woman to snatch away the upper hand, and understands now that she is paying for her dominance of power down in the dungeons. She supposes she should know by now to keep her wits about her when dealing with the Swan woman, but it is not a practice she's in the habit of, as never before has she been faced with an opponent so equally matched and so sly.
"Leave that alone."
She warns in a low hiss, and she receives a raised brow in response from the woman lying nude and entirely at ease on her bed.
"I said leave it!"
She snaps venomously as green eyes drop from her gaze to the diary, and Emma flicks through a couple of pages until she seems to find what she's looking for. Looking back up at the darker woman that seethes murderously in the centre of the room, the blonde smiles slowly as she remarks
"Cute."
"Saviour, you had better-"
"-I mean, why the hell you felt the need to document any of this soppy crap is beyond me, but cute!"
There is a definite mocking lilt to her tone now, and the Queen shows her teeth angrily.
"Miss Swan, I am ordering you to-"
"-Kiss me."
Emma interrupts, and the brunette frowns as she stands with her hands balled into tight fists, unable to destroy the younger woman as she so wishes to do.
"...What?"
"I couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for him to kiss me."
The blonde elaborates, reading aloud with a purposefully girlish inflexion to her tone, and she looks up from the page to check that her snooping is having the desired effect of riling the darker woman up and offers her a sweet smirk before continuing.
"I'd waited behind in the stables for the best part of the hour, knowing mother would stop by to ask after the horses to be traded this weekend with Linus. I kept crouched behind the hay bales to keep from her sight, waiting for him to come and find me once the coast was clear. My Daniel."
"Stop this..."
The Queen implores in a raspy tone, her teeth clenched and pulse racing. She finds herself almost surprised by the blonde's cruel behaviour. She might view her as a pathetic nuisance and a problem to eventually be stamped out, but she can't recollect Emma ever displaying purposeful, outright mean intent towards herself; towards Regina. Towards anyone, if she thinks about it. The blonde's way of dealing with things has always been to become cold and distant, rather than take a knife and plunge and twist it as the Queen might like to do herself. She wouldn't have thought the younger woman had such a side to her, but as she drinks in silver curls and dark makeup, she understands that she isn't dealing with any version of the Saviour she'd endured back in Storybrooke.
Darkness is enticing, this I know, but I am still surprised she might stoop so low as to use Daniel against me.
She glowers from her forced distance away from the bed; hating the blonde with every fibre of her being, and yet supposing there is something intriguing about being let in on the nasty underbelly of the younger woman's thoughts and feelings that she might usually keep on a tight leash.
Yes, but to use Daniel...
She swallows as she watches Emma push herself up from the bed to take a couple of steps towards her. The blonde's pale skin is dappled with markings from their previous rutting against cold stone, but her teeth as she smiles are perfect, white and dangerous.
"It took him only five minutes at my best guess, but I will admit, I am guilty of being hazy when under his spell. He does things to me that I thought impossible, for how could I exist before knowing him? Before knowing his touch?"
The blonde steps up to her prey as she reads out from the Queen's neatly penned memoirs, and she touches her fingers gently to the darker woman's cheek; pinpricked with a scarlet blossom of rage.
"Finally, he held me, and he kissed me; slowly, until I felt unable to breathe, and yet I would have allowed him to continue until there was only blackness."
A slight flutter of breath through dark locks as Emma stifles a chuckle at the Queen's youthful drivel, before she follows Regina's recollection like a script and brushes her lips slowly against the brunette's. The darker woman closes her eyes, unable to break away as the blonde kisses her slowly. She becomes aware that her lungs are suddenly devoid of air as Emma closes her fist and keeps her at her unseen mercy.
"... I could send you over into the 'blackness', Your Highness, but personally, I'm intrigued as to where this is all going."
Emma whispers against full lips with a smirk, and she finally opens up her fist to allow the brunette to gulp in a few desperate gasps of air.
"You-"
The Queen hisses, but the blonde interrupts her loudly as she continues to read
"With my heart set aquiver, his fingers found the tight lacing of my dress; freeing me of its restriction and allowing his gaze to wander over me; devouring me."
Another small breath of laughter, but the younger woman follows the diary's instructions without hesitation. The Queen doesn't wear a dress, but the blonde improvises without missing a beat; undressing her opponent slowly until she stands bare amidst a pool of discarded garments. Emma grins as she can feel the telling flutter of the brunette's magic trying desperately to break through and put an end to her fun, but she knows that, for now, she's in control, and she plans to make good use of the fact.
You will not win. You will not beat me as you seem so convinced is inevitable.
"With my body his, he lay me down on the soft hay bedding covering the stone floor-"
The younger woman continues; guiding the Queen onto the bed and forcing her to lie down as dark eyes glower up at her.
"-And he removed his manhood from the confines of his clothes-... Huh... Might need to improvise there..."
Emma smirks as she runs her hand up the inside of the brunette's thigh. Straddling her dominantly, she slips two fingers into slick warmth and murmurs huskily into the darker woman's ear
"Seriously, what's up with the fifty shades crap, Your Majesty? When would writing this stuff down ever play in your favour?... Or was it something to look back on and, hmm, reminisce over when Daniel wasn't around? I'll bet once he died, this stuff might even have been a godsend..."
A low snarl against her cheek and she laughs quietly.
"I can play the game, Your Highness... Don't you forget that, now. Don't go thinking you have me beat."
The blonde warns, looking to her side to scan the pages of the diary and dipping her fingers especially deep accordingly. Experimenting with her power, she keeps her hand pressed to the parchment as she attempts to glean as much information as she can; harnessing not just the words but the memories themselves. She is sure that with more practice she might have greater ability, but she is marginally successful and she allows her new knowledge to infiltrate their game.
"Oh..."
The Queen groans, unable to help herself, as the blonde pins her flush and keeps up a slow rhythm. A rhythm she remembers... And her brow furrows while salt prickles behind clenched lashes as she is accosted with the delicate scent of cedarwood and leather, and the body atop hers feels somehow fuller- heavier- and gentle teeth graze the spot under her ear that he- that Daniel- had always known would make her melt. She-
"-What the hell are you doing?!"
She gasps, struck by the past as though slapped in the face, and she pushes against the blonde furiously as everything about her touch- her smell- reminds her of back then, back when she'd been weak.
Laughter, and Emma sits back and tosses long hair over her shoulder coyly; her expression deviously gleeful.
"What?"
She asks lightly, and the Queen's mouth works in a bid to find fitting words for such deplorable treachery, but nothing that comes to mind fully encompasses the rage that she feels. She is shocked at the gall of the bitch spread on top of her, and the only thing that keeps her from breaking down and weeping is the pure hatred that nurtures her in this form. Should she still have shared a body- a prison- with her lesser, Storybrooke self, she is sure that the blonde might have broken her, but she is the Queen, the Evil Queen, and she will not allow the spawn of her enemies to best her with such a foul hand.
"Bitch."
She hisses simply, and Emma nods agreeably down at her.
Curling her lip angrily, the Queen knows that unless she catches the younger woman by surprise, she remains unable to top her current possession of power over the situation. Over her.
True, I can't force my will as she holds the power, but what about using trickery to restack the deck?... I believe the wretch might be just as easily played as I have been, and while her deceit relies on painful memories, I do believe the realisations I might force unto her may prove themselves to be a lot more damaging than anything she might be able to do to me using only my ghosts.
Clutching onto the hope that this might be true, the brunette alters her game. She reaches up and pulls the blonde down onto her; tasting her hungrily. The husky laughter this garners causes her to suspect Emma might believe she has been overcome by lust incited by the past, and she allows the younger woman to remain ignorantly blind. Kissing her first slowly, and then with a needy nip of sharp teeth and sly tongue, she rolls them so that she lies astride pale limbs while silver hair fans out over her pillow. She imagines the Saviour might be an easy target in their current game due to her denial of release thus far, and she plays into this fact readily; cupping slick heat with playful fingers as she bites experimentally at the younger woman's clavicle.
A short gasp in response, and she smirks into the hollow of the blonde's throat.
Playing back the very hand dealt to her, she works slowly and meticulously to alter her touch and her likeness to avoid having Emma detect the subtle change. She thinks back to a morning several weeks ago when the blonde had commented on her chosen perfume appreciatively, and she applies that delicate scent now to her flesh. Allowing her hair to fall softly down to her shoulders without any product holding it back, she renders her dark makeup minimal and more natural; exactly how Regina might wear it when dealing with the false issues arising in her sham of a town. She injects a gentleness in the way that she plays with the blonde; a curious sense of familiarity.
Beneath her, Emma's reactions become tellingly clumsy, and the Queen pushes herself up so that she looks down at the younger woman; smiling at her fondly with lips painted dusky cherry rather than striking scarlet. She tucks glossy locks coyly behind her ear as her other hand continues to demand the pleasured hum that escapes gritted teeth. Leaning down to brush softly at the younger woman's parted lips, she watches as dark lashes squeeze shut and the blonde gives in to her pleasure; embracing her tightly as she goes over while hissing one broken word:
"Regina..."
Silence follows, and blown green finds glittering brown warily as the Queen maintains her guise just long enough for the younger woman to take it in entirely, before once more assuming provocative makeup and slicked-back tresses.
"Emma."
She replies icily, and the Saviour swallows as she seems unable to find a comeback for what she has just allowed to happen.
"Never. Ever. Touch my things again."
The brunette warns quietly, snatching the discarded diary from the bed and getting up off of the younger woman.
She looks down at her furiously, her smug glee at playing her recent hand dampened by her rage that the blonde should think it her right to have anything to do with Daniel. She is surprised by the depth of the emotion she feels; having believed sorrow to have been eliminated from her repertoire now no longer tethered to her Storybrooke self. Still, the hate it brings up in her is damning and true, and she flashes her teeth down at the woman on the bed and promises softly
"You've just entered a whole new phase of a game you never wanted to play, Saviour... Bad move."