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seriousfic) wrote2012-02-23 12:31 pm
OUAT fic: Not A Fairy Tale Romance (Regina/Emma) Part 5
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Rating: R
Word Count: 6,033
Characters/Pairings: Regina/Emma, Mary Margaret/David
Notes: This fic is an AU as of 1x07 - The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter
Previous: Part 4
Summary: Regina tries to play off her kiss with Emma. Emma arrests her for prostitution. Just another day in Storybrooke.
Then
How did you forget a kiss? Regina could bury guilt, pain, and most any other emotion. But how did you forget being happy? How did you stop comparing the rest of your life to it?
You didn’t. You just sat at your desk and didn’t get any work done and touched your lips now and again, once coming away with a trace of pink lipstick, so pale compared to Regina’s blood-red brand.
Then, like the sun coming to midday above Regina, a larger question seeped into the room. What had brought on that swell of self-pity? She hadn’t done anything wrong, not first at any rate. It wasn’t her fault her mother was dead, it was Snow White’s.
This was all Emma’s doing. She played the innocent to make Regina feel guilty for hating her. And now she’d used their shared connection to Henry to worm her way into Regina’s affections. It was intolerable, maddening. And the more Regina thought about it, the madder she got.
***
Emma’s day wasn’t going any smoother. Her thought process had shrunk to two thinks: ‘she feels the same way about me’ and “I feel the same way about her.’ The highlight reel from her kiss with Regina. Strange alchemy had taken her feelings for Regina. She’d resented her at first—how could she not? Regina had everything. Wealth, respect, a man, a kid. Emma had a jacket.
But she’d shifted quickly to détente with Regina, then friendship. They had things in common. There were times they spent together that bordered on girlishly gleeful—they performed for each other with jokes only the other would get. Their confidence, their uncertainty, masks upon masks, and somewhere underneath, there they were.
Emma’s feelings for Regina were a rapid, heady rush. She’d only been telling the truth in trying to reassure Regina; her offer to her after the kiss (some kind of family) had been pure instinct. She’d followed her heart or something lame like that.
She kept trying to think up reasons to call it off and then the kiss jumped back into her head and all she could think to do was let it play out. Flying on a prayer had gotten her this far; it’d gotten her Henry. Maybe it could give her more. Was that what they called fate?
A phone call stopped her before she started ovulating like a teen girl at an N’Sync concert. It was Old Mrs. Gothel, the mayor’s secretary. Regina wanted a sitdown.
Finally, Emma’s one-track mind broke out of its rut. In the space of a heartbeat, her head was filled with a thousand guesses about what Regina wanted to say to her.
***
Now
With Henry having a sleepover at Peter Banning’s, Regina had the manor all to herself. And it was stunningly empty. She considered calling Emma, decided to take a walk. The sunset looked lovely. She’d never noticed that before. She still preferred the night to what came before. It was cool, soft, and inviting, with an orchestra of crickets and owls instead of cars and cell phones. Then the light came. Red and blue, with the accompaniment of a siren. A brief whoop, just to announce the arrival. Regina turned around to see Emma’s cruiser pulled up to the curb. The deputy aimed the car’s searchlight at her. “Evening.”
“It certainly is.”
“Sass. Not a great start.” Emma stepped out of the car. She wore the crisp brown uniform the town provided for its police department, her badge and cuffs catching the searchlight as she stepped in front of it. “What are you doing out this late, ma’am?”
“Walking.”
“Now what’d I say about sass?” Hand on her nightstick, thumb rubbing the handle, Emma closed in. “You always walk around dressed like that?”
Regina smoothed her hands over her pencil skirt and dark red blouse. Prudish it wasn’t. Which she wanted to hear. “Dressed like what?”
Emma’s lip twitched upward in appraisal. “Like you’re about to get fucked.”
Regina’s cheeks burned. “You ask a question like that when you don’t want sass?”
Shit-eating grin. “Why don’t you put your hands on the hood?”
The night breeze against Regina’s face just reminded her of how heated she was. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
“Why don’t you do it now?” Emma asked, casually twirling her nightstick.
Regina held her hands up, long fingers splayed, and placed them on the hood of Emma’s car. Her ass jutted out and she felt Emma’s eyes rake over it. So predictable.
Emma started under Regina’s arms, the tips of her slender fingers almost touching the sides of Regina’s breasts, but the sensation was fleeting as Emma continued the patdown. Regina bit her lip at the entirely unwholesome frustration she felt.
“Don’t get excited,” Emma chided. Her hands clapped at Regina’s ribs. “I know how you girls love a man in uniform.”
“You count?”
With more force than necessary, Emma slapped her hands onto Regina’s hips and left them there, fingers sinking into the mayor’s voluptuous curves. Her sensible wardrobe kept them well-hidden, but a hazmat suit couldn’t have kept them concealed from Emma’s prying finger. “I’m more than man enough for you, sweetheart.”
Now Emma’s hands slid downward, making their presence felt against the curb of Regina’s buttocks, down to her toned thighs. Regina’s skirt came down to her knees, and she shivered as Emma covered the distance, gripping the hem with all the tightness she so clearly would’ve liked to use on Regina. As Regina breathed in bullish fits, anger and desire swirling in her belly, her skirt was lifted up and she was left exposed to the world—most especially Deputy Emma Swan.
“Is this man enough for you?” Emma rasped in Regina’s ear, as her fingers circled Regina’s waist, ceaselessly crossing from the elastic band of her panties to the oversensitive warmth of bare flesh. “Wouldn’t you love a man to treat you this way before he sticks a hard cock inside you?”
“I won’t be spoken to in this manner-“ Regina said, fitfully. Her voice was barely strained, but it sounded horribly lustful to her own ears. Like an animal baying at the moon.
“What would you prefer? A sonnet?” Emma’s fingers dipped into her crotch. They were so cold—and Regina was so warm…
“D-deputy,” Regina said, not nearly firmly enough. Those fingers were just inches away from where they needed to be. And Regina felt a strange weight there, a heft against her aching core, almost relieving her before it was pulled away. It wasn’t Emma’s fingers. It was a baggie.
“What’s this?” Emma asked, as rhetorically as a college professor.
Regina jerked her shirt back down around her legs. “You planted that!”
Emma already had hands on Regina, tangled in her hair and locked around her arm. Dominating her. “Let’s go,” she commanded, shoving Regina toward the backseat.
***
Then
Emma drove to town hall, took the stairs two at a time, shuffled into the waiting room, and spent thirty minutes asking herself what Regina was occupied with that was more important than her. Then she shouldered her way into the office.
Regina was behind her desk, a hardwood construction even more imposing than the black slab at her home. She was dressed in funeral-black, every hair in place, her eyes mirrors for how much they gave. Her armor was up and shining bright enough to blind. “It’s alright, Mrs. Gothel,” Regina said, addressing the secretary following Emma in before the woman she kissed last night. “I’d just finished.”
Emma wondered what was on her computer screen. A game of Solitaire? “Did you want to talk, Madame Mayor, or do you just like having me around?”
“Sit down, deputy. Mrs. Gothel, shut the door behind you.” Every word she spoke froze in the open air.
Emma got closer, braving the chill, and leaned on the offered chair. “Talk.”
“I’ll be brief, in deference to your attention span.” Regina folded her hands and kneaded them together like she was crushing something. “I’d just like to say that I did not welcome your advances the other night, and while I don’t think an official reprimand is necessary, I would appreciate if you acted with more professionalism in the future.”
”What the fuck are you talking about?” Emma exploded, all bomb, no fuse.
“Last night, acting in the capacity of a peace officer, you entered my home, feeling the need to ‘protect me,’ and made a sexual overture to me. Do you feel that’s appropriate behavior for the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department?”
In the past year, Emma had been confronted by her long-lost son, ambush-kissed twice, and saved a psychologist from a collapsed mine. She’d never lacked for a retort before. She might as well have been speechless. “I don’t believe this!”
Regina’s fingers tightened to white. “I suggest you start, Miss Swan. Sexual harassment is a very serious offense.”
Words burnt their way out of Emma, flaring up like gasoline kissing a match. “You kissed me!”
Regina had the gall to smile. About anything else, Emma might’ve admired that in her. “I can’t speak for your recollection of events, but as the victim, I’m sure my word will be given more credence than yours.”
And that was it. Emma’s head was screaming for her to back out and her gut was aching to punch Regina’s smug face in, but her heart, it demanded she prove Regina a liar. It hadn’t been a game, or a mistake, or something unrequited. It was real, the kind of real that was so true it could only be in stories. They built fables around it.
***
Now
It took minutes for Regina to catch her breath, minutes more for her to speak. Emma had left her in a hell of a state. And the worst part was, she appeared totally blasé to the distress she’d left Regina in, handcuffed and locked into the backseat of the cruiser, a mesh between her and the woman who had set her on fire. She tried to cram her white-hot heat into anger.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” she informed Emma, every word dripping with bitterness.
“Streetwalkers have lawyers?” Emma replied easily. “What do you pay him in, fishnets?”
“Hundred dollar bills, actually. And he’s worth every penny.”
In the rear-view mirror, Regina saw Emma’s eyes come up to meet hers. “And are you?”
“Am I what?”
Regina saw Emma’s eyes go lower, and felt the prick of their gaze on her breasts. Almost against her will, they rose with a deep breath. “Worth every penny.”
Regina exhaled. “I’m a bargain at any price,” she said smartly.
“But not a streetwalker.”
She flipped her hair, fixing the rear-view mirror with a dismissive glance. “You wish. The only way you could get me into bed would involve a credit card.” She leaned closer to the mesh. Through it, she could just smell Emma’s scent, far too rough to be a perfume. “Or maybe not.”
“Maybe?” Emma asked, just starting to sound uncertain.
Regina sidled closer, perching herself on the edge of her seat, her words hitting the back of Emma’s neck as she spoke. “Your personality leaves something to be desired, but through no merit of your own, you have nice bone structure. There’s potential there.”
Emma took a hard turn that jammed Regina against the window. “Oh, the bitches in county lock-up are going to love you. They’re big on cuddling.”
The trip had left Regina’s skirt riding up her legs, a daring expanse of thigh on display. She made no move to cover up, even though if Emma so much as turned her head, she’d know the color of Regina’s panties. “Look, officer, I’m a busy woman. Maybe there’s a quick and easy way to make both our lives simpler.”
“My life’s simple enough,” Emma replied. But she turned her head.
Regina was wearing red. “Is it wicked enough?”
“…depends…”
Regina looked out the window. They were passing through the woods. The deep, dark woods. The mist was rolling in. The predators were out, fulfilling their appetites. “Pull over here and I’m yours. You can do whatever you want and I won’t tell. But afterwards, I walk.”
Emma hit the brakes. She might as well have sped up.
***
Then
Emma unzipped her jacket.
Regina followed the parting leather like it was a fuse burning down. When the jacket fell open, her eyes tried to be angry, tried to meet Emma’s gaze, but they were caught. They stirred constantly, drawn like magnets. She didn’t look smug anymore.
“Looks like I’ve caught your attention, Madame Mayor.” Emma fingered the left strap of her tanktop until it slipped. “Let’s see if I can catch a little more.”
Now Regina met Emma’s eyes, pure anger trying to make her batten down the hatches. “You’re fired. For starters.” It was a nice tactic, but Emma had seen it before. Fury as a shield to block out everything else. “I’m not sure a civil suit is out of the question. Emotional duress, sexual assault…”
Emma took her shirt off. Regina barely faltered. “And-and as for that paternity suit I know you’re planning, I’m certain no judge would think this is the behavior of a fit parent!”
Emma got closer, her bra leading the way. She had great breasts. She knew it. Regina knew it. Her eyes shook like they didn’t know where to look first. Certainly not at Emma’s face.
“You know what word I didn’t hear in there? Stop.”
Bending at the waist, Emma mounted Regina’s desk on all fours. Now Regina’s eyes were laser-focused, staring down the canyon of her breasts. Emma slowly rose to a kneel, looked down into Regina’s eyes, and took off her bra.
Regina’s mouth was slack, her lips gently parted, and her eyes actually a little glazed as Emma leaned into her space, her hands now setting down on the armrests of Regina’s chair, her lips approaching Regina’s once more. This time, they both knew it wouldn’t be hard and fast like the first time. It would be soft, slow, dream-like, like the entire scene. Every shrill word in Regina’s arsenal couldn’t puncture the aura around them. She tried anyway.
“You can’t do this,” Regina insisted, her mind fleeing back to fairy tales. Emma was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Yes, her parents had been a shameless whore and a man who’d left his fiancée, but still, they were goody-two-shoes. This wasn’t in their blood. “It’s not… not… good!”
Emma sunk into Regina’s lap, her lips perilously close to Regina’s but never closing the distance, her weight and warmth suddenly an overwhelming force against Regina. Regina felt her body betray her; she was freezing cold and burning up all at once. Her lips itched, but she couldn’t move her hands. She felt Emma, her skin and her breasts and nipples like stone press against her body.
“I think you’ll like me a whole lot better when I’m bad,” Emma whispered, and her voice made Regina clench deep inside. Her eyelids fluttered with all of the magic bearing down on her, Emma’s touch and Emma’s eyes and Emma’s kiss that was almost but not quite hers. Regina was soaked in gasoline and holding up a match and if she let it go, she’d burn.
She let go.
The inch of space between their lips disappeared, Regina locking herself to Emma, her hands painting Emma from her wonderfully bare back to the beautiful denim of her jeans, all the way down to her boots. Regina had always liked those goddamn boots.
“So that’s how to shut you up,” Emma muttered as Regina buried her face in her breasts like she never intended a return trip. “Good to know.”
Regina grabbed her by the hair and threw her down on the desk, where she showed Emma her own way of making a woman speechless.
***
Now
When Emma pulled Regina out of the backseat, she wondered if the deputy’s goosepimples were from the cold or just from her. The cool air caressed Regina, fingering her nipples to a stinging hardness, slapping her sex with just enough force. The only thing that couldn’t have come out of an especially vivid fantasy was the look on Emma’s face—concern.
“Are you sure no one comes up here?” she asked, her voice no longer gruff, but the more soppy mien she used on the kittens she no doubt rescued from trees.
“For the last time, it’s my town, Emma.” With the force of a headbutt, Regina planted a kiss on Emma. Her new facial expression was a marked improvement. “Now stop breaking character, I’m wetter than high tide.”
And that finally got the reaction Regina was looking for. Emma spun her around and bent her over the hood, the cold metal’s temperature penetrating to Regina’s very core. She felt like she had been entered and Emma had barely touched her.
“By the way,” Emma said, in a voice halfway between normal conversation and her domineering character—something that especially worked for Regina. “I cleaned my nightstick.”
“Damn right you did.”
With a firm slap on the rump, Emma was back in character and back in charge—if she’d ever stopped. “Nice panties. Mind if I borrow them?”
Regina smirked. “They’re worth more than you make in a month.”
“So I guess you don’t want them getting all wet when you come in your pants?” Brusquely, Emma forced Regina’s skirt practically to her ribcage and ripped the panties down her legs. She’d done it just in the nick of time. Regina was having her own little monsoon season. And she’d waxed, extensively. Emma wondered if Regina was control-freak enough to do that regularly or if it was something special for tonight. Either one hit a kink.
“I’ll expect those back in pristine condition,” Regina ordered, and uttered a shrill note of protest when Emma balled them up. Even in the real world, they were quite expensive, and game or no game, Emma could not—
Emma forced the panties into Regina’s mouth. As a gag, they left something to be desired, but as a message, they were heard loud and clear.
“I like making the quiet ones moan,” Emma said. “But you’re loud. We’ll see about taking those out later. When you have something—constructive to add.”
Constructive. The kind of language Regina herself might’ve used. The echo made Regina’s knees knock. So this was how it felt; to have all the power and none of it at the same time.
She didn’t know when the idea had first occurred to her—long before Emma, certainly. Naturally, the idea of dominating another person had appealed to her—she was queen, after all, why wouldn’t her reign extend into the bedroom? And Graham might not’ve been an intellectual vanguard, but he was certainly pliable. Regina had been using some of her office hours—one of the nice things about time being stopped was that there were no consequences for procrastinating—to research new ways for him to serve her.
And she’d found images of women being under another’s control. Not that of a man—she could never give herself to Graham like that. But other women.
There was no woman in Storybrooke strong enough to subjugate Regina like that, which made it a particularly safe fantasy. If, for whatever reason (and there were a few), Graham didn’t satisfy her, she could sink into the dream of being told exactly what to do by someone who knew exactly what to do for the both of them to reach scintillating pleasure.
And that would’ve been the end of it, the showerhead, her fingers, occasionally something more… mechanical. Only Emma had come to town. And seduced her. And somehow convinced her that she was safe to share even something as private as this.
She’d have thought Emma would be horrified, or mortified. Maybe she really was as pure as they all said, and she’d be shocked by Regina’s vulgar fantasy life. Or, far more likely for a woman who’d had a baby in prison (Regina tried to cut down on such uncharitable thoughts now that they were dating, instead focusing on things like Emma’s dimples and the lovingly lived-in smell of her jacket, which clung to her skin just before she showered), she’d be embarrassed by such a vanilla fantasy. Just a little spanking and harsh language, no gagging or whips or any of the other things she’d needed with Graham.
Instead, she’d just nodded and summoned the most intrigued grin… “Single mother. Mayor. ‘Criminal mastermind’. I guess I would like to let off some steam too. Let someone else take the wheel.”
Regina had nodded almost desperately. “Lose control.”
And so, on the night of Henry’s sleepover, instead of worrying over him watching an R-rated movie and having mental scars, they’d arranged a little… adventure. It was, perhaps, a little less mystical than all the other fairy tale characters got, but Regina could definitely see the appeal.
And so could Emma, holding up the handcuff key, nowhere near good enough an actress to hide the gleam in her eyes. “Now then. I’m going to unlock you for a minute. Run, I’ll ride you down and fuck you on the ground.”
Regina rolled her eyes. This had been her idea after all. They’d have to talk about Emma laying it on so thick.
Emma pressed herself against Regina as she unlocked her, the chilled metal of her belt buckle digging into Regina’s buttocks. Coupling that with the fabric of her skirt pressing against her bare sex, the most interesting friction between them, gave Regina a prophetic dream of an orgasm.
Only Emma grabbed her by the throat and squeezed, jamming her head against the hood hard enough to crink the metal. “You don’t come until I let you,” she said. It worked. Regina’s climax receded, larger and angrier for being denied. She moaned through her own sodden panties.
“Now then,” Emma repeated, gathering up Regina’s limp arms and spaghetti-strand legs to help her up onto the hood, resting her against the windshield. “Now then, now then, now then.” It had become a drawl, a lip-licking refrain as she surveyed Regina’s body. Her jacket was open, her blouse was thin, and her skirt was hitched. Regina felt not exposed, but wanton. Desired. She was the fairy tale princess, destined to be woken with a kiss. Only Emma wouldn’t be waiting for a church wedding and musical number to have her. They’d fuck in a glass coffin if they had to.
Emma drew Regina’s arms up, pulling her taut and thrusting her chest out. Regina could barely breathe, she felt so… peaceful. She had no control, but with one word she could put a stop to this. Yet she didn’t need to. She had Emma. The most trustworthy woman she’d ever met. As if sensing Regina’s loving thoughts, Emma met her eyes, gave her a little wink, and hooked the cuffs around the cruiser’s lightbar before closing them again. Regina was strung up like a piece of meat, and ridiculously, the thought sent a fresh surge of arousal through her.
“You wanna get off?” Emma asked, her voice giving no clue to which of the phrase’s meanings she meant. Her own breath hitching, she pulled Regina’s skirt off. “You’re going to have to earn it.”
Regina spiked her hips desperately, inviting any contact. She could see the temptation in Emma’s eyes, but the blonde just slapped her hand down on Regina’s stomach and pressed her down to the car hood. Regina laid still. It struck her physically how Emma was in charge; it hit her like a lightning bolt. She moaned through her gag.
Emma actually licked her lips as she held the nightstick just shy of Regina’s sex. She took her hand away. Regina held herself very still. With a spreading smile, Emma rapped the nightstick against Regina’s pussy. It was barely a tap, briefly flitting inside, but it took all the will Regina had not to flail her hips, trying to get more into her.
“Good girl,” Emma praised, tapping Regina’s sex again. A tremor went through Regina’s body; an uncontrollable spasm. Emma mercilessly prodded her again and a helpless moan was drawn out through her gag.
All Regina’s thoughts of control, pride, and perfection had vaporized. This bore no resemblance to the happy ending she’d planned for herself and she couldn’t even be bothered to compare the two. Emma was seeing her at what she once would’ve called her worst—a lustful, wanton animal—and Regina couldn’t care less. It all felt so good.
Emma brought the nightstick up to Regina’s face, letting her get a good look at it. It was an inch or two thick, and maybe a foot long—Regina was having a hard time being analytical at the moment. And she could smell herself on it.
She nearly went cross-eyed as Emma pulled the nightstick away, dragging it down Regina’s body, between her breasts and over her soft belly, down to her clenched thighs. Regina opened herself for Emma, spreading her legs to either side of the hood. “Very good,” Emma chimed, and fed the very tip of the nightstick into Regina’s waiting sex.
Regina couldn’t help herself. Her hips surged, wanting more, but Emma was ready for her. She slammed her forearm down across Regina’s waist like she was just another fleeing suspect and forced her to hold still as she gave Regina another inch, agonizingly slow. Regina rolled her hips, trying desperately not to do more, and Emma allowed it.
Regina let her eyes roll back in her head—she couldn’t take the sight of Emma hunched over her, a breathless look on her face as even she was taken aback by how much Regina wanted it—it’d been so long, not even since Graham, not even since she’d cast the spell, no, she’d never felt like this, with anyone, and it wasn’t just the nightstick or the handcuffs or the sight of Emma in a very fetching uniform. It was something Regina was absolutely not going to be thinking about when she could be feeling. Her mind raced. Her body burnt. When the nightstick stopped, it didn’t even come as a surprise, but just another step in their coupling.
Emma took her hands away, and that did get Regina’s attention. She pulled the gag from Regina’s mouth and tucked Regina’s panties into her pocket. Regina looked down to see half of the nightstick protruding from her, a sorta mischievous expression on Emma’s face—‘look ma, no hands.’ “Fuck, you’re tight.”
“Makes you wish you had a cock, doesn’t it?”
“A little, actually.”
Regina did have a very useful spell for that, not that she had magic and not that she could tell Emma anything about it—and that hit home, taking her back to where she lived. Emma was Mary Margaret’s daughter and Mary Margaret was the enemy and Christ, what would she think if she knew.
But then Emma was straddling Regina, ripping her blouse open, pulling her bra away. Regina’s breasts were already heaving, her nipples as hard as stone. Emma reached down, took one in her fingers, and twisted. Not a lot, not even as hard as Regina had done to herself thinking of a night like this one, but enough to send ripples of desire through Regina’s body. Suddenly, she had a desperate, awestruck need for Emma. She needed the woman to be a part of her, her blood, her bones, her beating heart.
“Emma,” she pleaded. “Please.”
“Yes,” Emma said simply, backing away, popping her belt, opening her fly, tugging her panties out of the way. She took hold of the nightstick and impaled herself on the handle. Instantly, Regina felt connected to her, like the same desire was running through both of them. They shuddered with the same pleasure, the nightstick’s motion touching both of them.
Emma couldn’t keep up the act. She just set her jaw as she drove herself onto the nightstick right up to the side handle, letting it separate them, leaving the lion’s share of the makeshift dildo to Regina. Almost gently, she bent down to Regina, the motion driving more of the nightstick inside, the nightstick driving a series of mewling whimpers from Regina’s mouth.
It wasn’t until their bodies pressed together, the nightstick lost between them, the grip separating them, that Regina finally let loose, a low and gasping cry of ownership. Emma flexed the nightstick inside her and Regina grunted, she groaned, she threw her head back and nearly broke Emma’s windshield. But it wasn’t just that; it was feeling Emma’s uniform rubbing against her, the caress of her khakis and the cool bite of her badge and beneath it all, Emma’s body, as heated and sensitive as hers.
“We’re all alone out here,” Emma said, her voice dipping huskily into Regina’s ear. “No one can see the all-powerful mayor getting reamed like a bitch.” She dashed her hips against Regina’s, shifting the nightstick inside them and the sound of Emma’s clenched-teeth pleasure was more arousing than anything below Regina’s waist. “No one can hear you crying out like a whore.” Regina felt like protesting that she hadn’t actually cried out, but a deep thrust from Emma proved that a lie. “No one can hear you scream for me. You’re going to do that, aren’t you Regina? When you come…”
“How are you doing this to me?” Regina demanded as best she could, the inquiry coming out in breathy gulps.
Emma leaned down to her ear. “I’m really hot.”
Regina actually giggled. Emma laughed too, gathering Regina’s face in her hands and kissing her. Regina felt a fresh surge of arousal shoot outwards from her lips like a shockwave. She’d never admit it, but it was much more than the fact that Emma was a very fetching young woman.
Regina accidentally rattled her cuffs in her pleasure, and Emma paused for a moment, reaching for the key…
“No, no,” Regina moaned. “Finish me off.”
The same overpowering lust that had taken over Regina flashed in Emma’s eyes. That’s what made it bearable. It wasn’t being dominated that Regina liked. She could’ve had that with Graham, or Maleficent, or any of her other lovers. This was something else, something they were equally powerless before. It was like a magic spell robbing them both of their wits, replacing it with an obscene ecstasy.
Emma coiled her arms around Regina’s back, the mere act drawing them closer together and shifting the nightstick inside them. The side handle dug into their thighs and Emma reached down to rotate it, bringing it up so it was oriented between their clits.
“Oh God,” Regina swore, seeing what Emma was planning.
“I’ll answer to deputy,” Emma replied smugly. “Maybe ‘your grace’.”
Regina drove her hips up, fucking the handle into Emma’s sex and sawing the side handle over her clit. Emma threw her head back and swore desperately, “Fuck!” Regina did it again; “Shit!” And again. “Goddamnit!” As obviously un-role-model-y as it was, Regina could get to like Emma’s pottymouth.
With a muttered “holy crap,” Emma tightened her grip on Regina and thrust into her. Regina lost all pretense of control then, her clit turning on her and the rest of her body following suit, her muscles straining against her will, her skin heating up and oozing sweat and begging for Emma’s touch. Her legs flew up and wrapped around Emma’s hips, desperate for more.
“Say it,” Emma commanded, holding back, lowering her thrusts to a slow, sinuous friction.
“Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
Emma rewarded her, going faster and harder, now a steady metronome beat inside Regina. “More.”
“I need you to fuck me. I love the way you fuck me,” Regina moaned, almost dreamily.
Her arms clasped around the mayor’s ribs, Emma licked at Regina’s offered-up breasts, tasting sweat and something uniquely Regina—something like the aftertaste of a crisp, perfect apple.
“How much do you love it?” Emma demanded, speeding up, now getting a steady series of involuntary groans from Regina’s sated, wanting body.
“More that—more than anything.” Regina’s words came out airily, high-pitched. She was almost out of breath. “You’re the best, goddamnit!”
“The best at what?” Emma insisted, going so hard that the car rocked under them, the metal screeching in protest as it was crinkled.
Arching her back so her head fell back against the car, Regina fell her nipples join her body’s rebellion as Emma sucked them into her mouth, one by one. “B-b-best at making me come.” Her head lolled to the side, breath fogging up the windshield.
“That what you want?” Emma was pounding her like a jackhammer now, lost in her own pleasure as much as Regina’s, the car see-sawing back and forth. Their juices mingled and ran over the hood. Later, Emma would have a hell of a time cleaning off the ‘SERVE’ on ‘TO SERVE AND PROTECT’.
Regina was beyond words at this point. She could only nod frantically. Her pleasure was overwhelming and constant, so powerful it was close to agony. She never wanted it to end and she needed it to stop, just so she could catch her breath. She needed to orgasm. She needed both of them to orgasm, at the same time, to be even closer, to share one thing more.
“Say it!” Emma ordered, bearing down on Regina even harder.
“Yes. Yes! I love it! I love you! I—“
And Regina lost all control. Her body went completely under Emma’s spell, mindlessly undulating to match the fucking Emma was giving her. She was a volcano, lava in her veins, smoke scalding its way out of her, needing to erupt. Her senses were burnt to cinders in the conflagration. She thrashed underneath Emma, mouth open, heels pounding the hood, screaming incoherently.
Emma kissed her ceaselessly, touched her lips to her mouth and neck and cheek and nose, taking her fill while Regina was lost in bliss. Regina could be so sparing at other times, especially in public, doling out affection like she had to cut it out of herself. But at that moment, she was a feast.
Finally, Regina caught her breath. Took Emma’s lips before she could peck her chin and shared the kind of soulful kiss Emma thought they saved for romance novels. Emma took it in stride, working the nightstick out from between them and rolling off Regina. As long as the mayor was handcuffed, she took the opportunity to nuzzle against the side. Regina was just the right amount of soft—curvy and voluptuous, but firm too. In her orgasm-y haze, Emma wondered if Regina had loofah ancestry.
“And you just got done cleaning your nightstick,” Regina observed with mock-regret.
“Mmm,” Emma agreed, pursing her lips. “Hey, what’d you say there, at the end? I wasn’t listening.”
“Couldn’t have been anything too important. The lock, if you don’t mind?”
“Let me see if I can find the key…”
“Now, Deputy Swan.”
Emma unlocked Regina, taking one last look at how nice her boobs looked with her shoulder blades pushed together. She came back down, kissing the top of Regina’s head. Regina groaned in joking disgust. Emma didn’t think it was too funny.
“Now then,” Regina said, putting her own wicked twang on Emma’s words. “Henry’s still having his sleepover and I’ve been reliably informed that women can perform certain… tasks to a greater extent than our male counterparts. What would you say if I suggested we go back to the manor, fix ourselves a sound meal, and see how you like a little restraint?”
Emma ran her finger from Regina’s clavicle all the way down, and didn’t hit a stitch of clothing on the way. Something about Regina’s careless nudity was making her very amenable. “That sounds fun, Regina. But you did promise that after we fulfilled your fantasy…” With her finger stopped just short of where she knew Regina would like it, Emma snuggled into Regina, biting her ear. “It’s time for mine.”
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HOT DAYUM.
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