Long Shadows and Gunpowder Eyes, Emma/Regina, NC17
Title: Long Shadows and Gunpowder Eyes
Fandom: Once Upon a Time (yup, down that rabbit hole now)
Pairing: Emma/Regina
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Through episode 1x07
Disclaimer: Not mine! These all belong to ABC, Disney and whoever else legally owns them. I'm just playing and no profit is being made, dear. The title is from the Neko Case song, 'Prison Girls'
Summary: Emma is found with Graham's body and thrown into jail. Which, naturally, is when the Mayor decides to pay her a visit. Written for somnolentblue for yuletide '11
She’s still cradling Graham in her lap (he’s getting colder by the minute, and it’s horrible) when the men come marching in. Emma doesn’t recognize their faces, but each is easily twice her size and there’s no fight left in her when they pull her up off the floor.
“Take care of him, please,” she mumbles. They ignore her, dragging her down to the basement where there’s just one cell at the end of a musty corridor.
Emma’s still crying when they shove her inside and turn the key.
*
Regina arrives a while later, just as Emma was expecting.
“If I find out you hurt him, Ms Swan...” Regina threatens, but there’s no power in her voice tonight (this morning? Emma has no idea).
“You know I didn’t,” Emma says, not moving from where she’s lying on her bunk.
"Why is it that you're so intent on taking everything that's important to me?" Regina persists, and something in her voice makes Emma sit up. Regina actually sounds sort of curious, and nowhere near as frosty as usual. “You didn’t answer me, back at the cemetery.”
"Lady, for the last time," Emma sighs. "I'm not trying to take anything. If people want to leave you, maybe you need to get your own house in order before coming after me."
"No one is 'coming after you', Ms Swan," Regina points out. "But that can change, very easily." There it is, that familiar flash of claws that Emma has come to expect.
"You don't scare me, Madam Mayor," Emma states quite calmly, striding over to the bars. Regina doesn't flinch, not even when their faces are only inches apart. "But the real question is: why are you so scared of me?"
Regina hesitates, and in the harsh strip lighting Emma can see that she's tired; exhausted is probably more accurate. Is it possible that the woman is guilty of nothing more than failing to connect with her son? Is all this chaos rooted in the unhappiness of a ten year old?
But Emma thinks of Graham just before he died. She thinks of the confusion and then the clarity on his face as he said the words.
I remember.
"Is anyone gonna charge me? I don't appreciate being locked up here without anyone reading me my rights."
"In case you haven't noticed, we don't currently have a Sheriff. And since the Deputy is under investigation, we'll have to wait for me to appoint a temporary replacement."
"I'll have to wait, you mean."
"Such is life, Ms Swan. If you don't like how we do things, please feel free to go back to Boston. If you can clear your name, of course."
"That shouldn't be a problem," Emma says with a smirk. "Not with what Graham told me. In fact, I look forward to sharing it with the whole town."
Regina's calm demeanor changes in an instant, her dark eyes flashing in the clearest signal of danger that Emma has ever seen. She tries to stand her ground, but sheer instinct makes her take one stumbling step back from the bars. Emma never thought she'd be grateful for imprisonment, but it feels a hell of a lot safer to have some reassuringly solid metal between her and Regina.
Until, that is, Regina pulls off one of her black leather gloves and lays her hand on the lock. Somehow--Emma swears there's no key, she must just be missing something, right?--the cell door swings open with a loud 'click'.
"Hey!" Emma offers weakly, but Regina is inside the cell now and there really isn't anywhere to run. Emma's face is still tingling from the fight, and she can see the slight swelling around Regina's split lip even more clearly now they're so close.
"What," Regina asks, stepping closer. "Did. He. Tell. You?"
Emma grits her teeth at being addressed like a particularly stupid child. She hates Regina for getting under her skin so easily, for being so cold and mean and easy to suspect of terrible things that Emma has no business ever believing in.
"Oh, if you're going to ask so nicely…" Emma mocks, not caring if Regina wants to go another round or two. It might actually be cathartic, to let out some of this teary frustration over the fact that one minute Graham was tending her injuries and the next he was gone.
"I can do 'nicely'," Regina almost purrs. Emma can't help noticing that personal space is once again a completely theoretical concept. She tries to take another step back, but there's only a smooth stone wall behind her.
"Is that what you want, Ms Swan?" Regina teases, her eyes still angry. "For me to be nice to you?"
"I don't want anything from you. I want to get out of here," Emma insists. Then she makes her first mistake and tries to push past Regina, who makes a surprisingly effectively roadblock.
But Emma is too good at this to let one bossy woman with a decent right hook stop her. She twists, and ducks, and in a second flat she does get past Regina, and in tugging what should be an unlocked door, Emma finds it mysteriously locked again.
“How did you--” Emma begins, but then Regina’s right behind her, pressing her up against the bars.
“I have my ways,” Regina murmurs, and Emma can feel that charge in the air that she’s been trying to ignore for weeks now. She closes her eyes and steels her resolve. It isn’t denial, exactly. It’s fending off whatever weird effect Regina is having on her. It happened that night Emma caught Graham climbing out of the window, when the sick feeling in her stomach got stronger when she thought of Graham touching Regina, but not so much the other way round.
Oh, come on. Emma’s no stranger to the concept of bisexuality, but until now she’s just been exclusively into men. Hell, wasn’t she just kissing a guy a few hours ago? But now, her emotions are playing tricks on her, because Emma is liking the sensation of Regina’s body against her back, and the rosy scent of her perfume that makes Emma think of cool summer gardens that are a million miles from the heat that’s now surging through her.
“What ways are those, Madam Mayor?” Emma asks, calling her bluff and twisting around to face Regina. If this is a trick just to get Emma off-balance, she’ll see it in Regina’s expression. Emma’s always been good at spotting a cover story or a convenient fake-out, and though her old life feels farther away by the minute, her skills remain intact.
Regina doesn’t even blink. Instead, she very delicately licks her lips and gives Emma the kind of loaded look that makes her nipples harden at the sight of it. Oh, this is not good (except for the endorphins already firing off in her brain that think, yeah this is pretty damn good).
“Do you really want to find out?” Regina asks.
And God help her (it has to be the grief, or the weirdness of her whole life lately, or something) but Emma really, really fucking does. So she takes a deep breath, offers up one last silent ‘what the hell am I doing’ and goes for it.
Of all the things she hasn’t been expecting, for Regina to be a good kisser is pretty high on the list. She’s selfish and not demonstrative and to Emma’s mind that usually means not great at this kind of thing, but no, Regina meets Emma’s haphazardly planted kiss with soft lips that rub tantalizingly against Emma’s own. Regina takes her hand (the one still with a glove) and the leather-covered fingers are tangled in the hair at the base of Emma’s neck as Regina deepens the kiss. She’s not shy about demanding access for her tongue either, and when she finally relents, Emma feels herself gasping for air.
With trembling fingers, Emma raises her hand to her mouth. Already her lips feel pleasantly bruised, just like after some of the best making out of her life. Regina lets go long enough to pull off that other glove, but when she’s back in position, Emma is shoving the thick, black coat from her shoulders.
“Should we--” Regina protests, but Emma silences her with another hard kiss. She makes her point by sucking hard on Regina’s bottom lip before letting go, with just a hint of teeth to remind Regina that Emma can take anything she dishes out.
“Come on,” Emma pants, waiting for Regina’s next move. She doesn’t have to wait long, because Regina grabs her wrists and pins her arms above her head. The metal of the bars is cool against Emma’s skin and she hisses at the contact.
She barely has time to feel that before Regina’s mouth is on her one more, trailing greedily along Emma’s jaw and down the column of her throat. Regina alternates teeth and tongue and lips, and Emma’s pretty sure this is going to leave marks in the morning. It’s hard not to betray how much she likes that, because the little moans bubble up without her permission every time Regina is a little bit rough.
“Fuck,” Emma cries as Regina lets one hand drop to cup Emma’s breast. The thin fabric of the black vest and lacy bra is very little barrier to the insistent pressure of Regina’s fingers, and she’s soon flicking and then gently twisting Emma’s nipple until she’s practically incoherent with arousal.
“You like that?” Regina teases, her mouth still wet and insistent as she sucks slowly at the pulse point at the base of Emma’s throat. “I had no idea you were this easy, dear.”
Which is almost enough to make Emma throw the bitch off then and there, because damned if she’ll let anyone talk to her that way. But the idea of shoving Regina, and Regina possibly shoving back and things getting a whole other kind of physical is actually turning Emma on even more.
Damn it.
“I’ll show you easy,” Emma warns, before pushing Regina just enough to regain the upper hand. This time Regina is backed against the wall, her expensive clothes scratching against the rough stone. Emma takes the hem of her red turtle neck and yanks it up as a statement of intent. As Regina finishes the task of pulling it over her head, Emma takes the opportunity to unhook Regina’s bra. As the front clasp gives way, Emma instinctively cups her hands over Regina’s breasts, and as she strokes both nipples with her thumbs, Regina in her half-stripped state lets her head fall back and closes her eyes before the first breathy little sigh escapes. And oh God hearing that just makes Emma want to do more to this woman. She might be lacking in experience, but she’s damn well going to make up for it in enthusiasm. She can feel how embarrassingly wet she already is, and the thought of Regina touching her there and finding this fact out to is enough to drive Emma halfway to crazy.
“Kiss me,” Regina mutters, and she’s staring at Emma in that hungry way again.
Emma’s only too happy to oblige. First, she gets rid of her own tank top and bra, and when she kisses Regina again with their bare breasts touching, they’re both moaning into each other’s mouths. This level of need can’t be sustainable, can’t be safe. This whole thing has ‘bad idea’ written all over it and yet Emma doesn’t know that she could stop, even if she wanted to.
Impatient now, she unbuttons Regina’s slacks without any complaint from the other woman. The fabric pools around Regina’s ankles but she simply reaches for the buttons on Emma’s jeans in reply. She’s tugging at them when Emma lends a hand, prompting Regina to grouse just a little.
“What do you do, paint these on?”
“Hey! You weren’t complaining all those times I caught you checking out my ass,” Emma protests.
“I have never--” Regina begins, but Emma places a finger over her lips.
“Don’t even try denying it.”
Regina glares, but a little, but then they’re both standing there in just panties and there are more pressing concerns than things that happened before tonight.
“You’re really beautiful,” Emma confesses, mortified that she has. “I mean, unfairly so. Is this some kind of deal with the devil?”
Regina smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” And then she bends a little to take Emma’s nipple in her mouth, which leads Emma to decide that questions are a waste of very valuable time.
Instead, she runs her hands over every part of Regina that she can reach. Tugging lightly at Regina’s dark hair, Emma’s trying to regain some control over the sensations going off like fireworks inside her. With her other hand she rakes her nails across Regina’s back, delighting in the shocking pink lines and Regina’s sudden hiss against Emma’s breast.
Somehow, they fall into a more acceptable tangle. Kissing, again, hard and without any kind of precision as each woman lets a hand slip inside the panties of the other. Emma’s whisper of a thong is no match for the flexing strength of Regina’s hand, but she doesn’t care that it snaps when she feels the wetness waiting beneath Regina’s black silk.
With their tongues questing for dominance, Emma has to concentrate to keep any kind of rhythm going. Her fingers slip around a little, but there’s no mistaken Regina’s guttural moan of approval when Emma presses down on her clit. Regina recovers quickly, and she’s soon pressing two deft fingers inside of Emma and working them at just the right pace to have Emma almost squealing with pleasure.
There’s no coordination to it, but Emma works her fingers firmly until Regina breaks the kiss to bite down on Emma’s collarbone. She comes quietly, with a shudder that makes Emma feel pretty damn proud of herself, until Regina’s stilled fingers starting pumping again, joined by her thumb on Emma’s clit.
When she comes, Emma sees stars, and it takes Regina to hold her up for a few long moments before Emma can trust her legs again.
“So?” Regina asks, her head resting on Emma’s shoulder. “Does this mean you’re going to tell me what he said?”
Emma freezes, the rush of relaxation wiped out in an instant.
“Are you kidding me?” She splutters, pulling away from Regina.
“Yes,” Regina smirks, before rolling her eyes. “He didn’t tell you anything, or you wouldn’t have risked holding it over me like that. I’m no fool, Emma.”
“Oh, we’re on first name terms now? You’re sticking with that?” Emma asks, incredulous.
“I would say so,” Regina replies, waggling her glistening fingers as an accusation. “Feel free to keep calling me Madam Mayor, you know, for the turn on.”
“Oh, God,” Emma groans, and the sudden chill in the air prompts her to grab at her discarded clothes. Regina does the same, although she seems pretty chilled out about the whole thing.
“When is your temporary Sheriff getting here?” Emma asks as she pulls her jeans back on. “And when do I get out?”
“Oh, you’re free to go Ms Swan,” Regina says with one of her fake smiles. “The coroner is ruling natural causes, I believe.”
“You knew? This whole time?” Emma feels the rage surging through her like the arousal was moments ago. “You goddamned--”
“Now, dear,” Regina says, fastening her bra. “Wasn’t this a lot more fun?”
“It was wrong. We’re supposed to be in mourning, for God’s sake!”
“We were celebrating life,” Regina says as she pulls her sweater back into place. She steps closer to pat Emma gently on the cheek. “I know I feel a lot better.”
“This is never happening again,” Emma warns as Regina picks up her coat and opens the cell door again.
“If you say so,” Regina dismisses her, nodding towards the corridor and Emma’s freedom. Emma storms past her, still pulling her tank top down as she goes.
“Although,” Regina adds, as they walk back towards the staircase. “If it were to happen again, you should probably be at my house at 11 tomorrow morning. Just in case.”
Fandom: Once Upon a Time (yup, down that rabbit hole now)
Pairing: Emma/Regina
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Through episode 1x07
Disclaimer: Not mine! These all belong to ABC, Disney and whoever else legally owns them. I'm just playing and no profit is being made, dear. The title is from the Neko Case song, 'Prison Girls'
Summary: Emma is found with Graham's body and thrown into jail. Which, naturally, is when the Mayor decides to pay her a visit. Written for somnolentblue for yuletide '11
She’s still cradling Graham in her lap (he’s getting colder by the minute, and it’s horrible) when the men come marching in. Emma doesn’t recognize their faces, but each is easily twice her size and there’s no fight left in her when they pull her up off the floor.
“Take care of him, please,” she mumbles. They ignore her, dragging her down to the basement where there’s just one cell at the end of a musty corridor.
Emma’s still crying when they shove her inside and turn the key.
*
Regina arrives a while later, just as Emma was expecting.
“If I find out you hurt him, Ms Swan...” Regina threatens, but there’s no power in her voice tonight (this morning? Emma has no idea).
“You know I didn’t,” Emma says, not moving from where she’s lying on her bunk.
"Why is it that you're so intent on taking everything that's important to me?" Regina persists, and something in her voice makes Emma sit up. Regina actually sounds sort of curious, and nowhere near as frosty as usual. “You didn’t answer me, back at the cemetery.”
"Lady, for the last time," Emma sighs. "I'm not trying to take anything. If people want to leave you, maybe you need to get your own house in order before coming after me."
"No one is 'coming after you', Ms Swan," Regina points out. "But that can change, very easily." There it is, that familiar flash of claws that Emma has come to expect.
"You don't scare me, Madam Mayor," Emma states quite calmly, striding over to the bars. Regina doesn't flinch, not even when their faces are only inches apart. "But the real question is: why are you so scared of me?"
Regina hesitates, and in the harsh strip lighting Emma can see that she's tired; exhausted is probably more accurate. Is it possible that the woman is guilty of nothing more than failing to connect with her son? Is all this chaos rooted in the unhappiness of a ten year old?
But Emma thinks of Graham just before he died. She thinks of the confusion and then the clarity on his face as he said the words.
I remember.
"Is anyone gonna charge me? I don't appreciate being locked up here without anyone reading me my rights."
"In case you haven't noticed, we don't currently have a Sheriff. And since the Deputy is under investigation, we'll have to wait for me to appoint a temporary replacement."
"I'll have to wait, you mean."
"Such is life, Ms Swan. If you don't like how we do things, please feel free to go back to Boston. If you can clear your name, of course."
"That shouldn't be a problem," Emma says with a smirk. "Not with what Graham told me. In fact, I look forward to sharing it with the whole town."
Regina's calm demeanor changes in an instant, her dark eyes flashing in the clearest signal of danger that Emma has ever seen. She tries to stand her ground, but sheer instinct makes her take one stumbling step back from the bars. Emma never thought she'd be grateful for imprisonment, but it feels a hell of a lot safer to have some reassuringly solid metal between her and Regina.
Until, that is, Regina pulls off one of her black leather gloves and lays her hand on the lock. Somehow--Emma swears there's no key, she must just be missing something, right?--the cell door swings open with a loud 'click'.
"Hey!" Emma offers weakly, but Regina is inside the cell now and there really isn't anywhere to run. Emma's face is still tingling from the fight, and she can see the slight swelling around Regina's split lip even more clearly now they're so close.
"What," Regina asks, stepping closer. "Did. He. Tell. You?"
Emma grits her teeth at being addressed like a particularly stupid child. She hates Regina for getting under her skin so easily, for being so cold and mean and easy to suspect of terrible things that Emma has no business ever believing in.
"Oh, if you're going to ask so nicely…" Emma mocks, not caring if Regina wants to go another round or two. It might actually be cathartic, to let out some of this teary frustration over the fact that one minute Graham was tending her injuries and the next he was gone.
"I can do 'nicely'," Regina almost purrs. Emma can't help noticing that personal space is once again a completely theoretical concept. She tries to take another step back, but there's only a smooth stone wall behind her.
"Is that what you want, Ms Swan?" Regina teases, her eyes still angry. "For me to be nice to you?"
"I don't want anything from you. I want to get out of here," Emma insists. Then she makes her first mistake and tries to push past Regina, who makes a surprisingly effectively roadblock.
But Emma is too good at this to let one bossy woman with a decent right hook stop her. She twists, and ducks, and in a second flat she does get past Regina, and in tugging what should be an unlocked door, Emma finds it mysteriously locked again.
“How did you--” Emma begins, but then Regina’s right behind her, pressing her up against the bars.
“I have my ways,” Regina murmurs, and Emma can feel that charge in the air that she’s been trying to ignore for weeks now. She closes her eyes and steels her resolve. It isn’t denial, exactly. It’s fending off whatever weird effect Regina is having on her. It happened that night Emma caught Graham climbing out of the window, when the sick feeling in her stomach got stronger when she thought of Graham touching Regina, but not so much the other way round.
Oh, come on. Emma’s no stranger to the concept of bisexuality, but until now she’s just been exclusively into men. Hell, wasn’t she just kissing a guy a few hours ago? But now, her emotions are playing tricks on her, because Emma is liking the sensation of Regina’s body against her back, and the rosy scent of her perfume that makes Emma think of cool summer gardens that are a million miles from the heat that’s now surging through her.
“What ways are those, Madam Mayor?” Emma asks, calling her bluff and twisting around to face Regina. If this is a trick just to get Emma off-balance, she’ll see it in Regina’s expression. Emma’s always been good at spotting a cover story or a convenient fake-out, and though her old life feels farther away by the minute, her skills remain intact.
Regina doesn’t even blink. Instead, she very delicately licks her lips and gives Emma the kind of loaded look that makes her nipples harden at the sight of it. Oh, this is not good (except for the endorphins already firing off in her brain that think, yeah this is pretty damn good).
“Do you really want to find out?” Regina asks.
And God help her (it has to be the grief, or the weirdness of her whole life lately, or something) but Emma really, really fucking does. So she takes a deep breath, offers up one last silent ‘what the hell am I doing’ and goes for it.
Of all the things she hasn’t been expecting, for Regina to be a good kisser is pretty high on the list. She’s selfish and not demonstrative and to Emma’s mind that usually means not great at this kind of thing, but no, Regina meets Emma’s haphazardly planted kiss with soft lips that rub tantalizingly against Emma’s own. Regina takes her hand (the one still with a glove) and the leather-covered fingers are tangled in the hair at the base of Emma’s neck as Regina deepens the kiss. She’s not shy about demanding access for her tongue either, and when she finally relents, Emma feels herself gasping for air.
With trembling fingers, Emma raises her hand to her mouth. Already her lips feel pleasantly bruised, just like after some of the best making out of her life. Regina lets go long enough to pull off that other glove, but when she’s back in position, Emma is shoving the thick, black coat from her shoulders.
“Should we--” Regina protests, but Emma silences her with another hard kiss. She makes her point by sucking hard on Regina’s bottom lip before letting go, with just a hint of teeth to remind Regina that Emma can take anything she dishes out.
“Come on,” Emma pants, waiting for Regina’s next move. She doesn’t have to wait long, because Regina grabs her wrists and pins her arms above her head. The metal of the bars is cool against Emma’s skin and she hisses at the contact.
She barely has time to feel that before Regina’s mouth is on her one more, trailing greedily along Emma’s jaw and down the column of her throat. Regina alternates teeth and tongue and lips, and Emma’s pretty sure this is going to leave marks in the morning. It’s hard not to betray how much she likes that, because the little moans bubble up without her permission every time Regina is a little bit rough.
“Fuck,” Emma cries as Regina lets one hand drop to cup Emma’s breast. The thin fabric of the black vest and lacy bra is very little barrier to the insistent pressure of Regina’s fingers, and she’s soon flicking and then gently twisting Emma’s nipple until she’s practically incoherent with arousal.
“You like that?” Regina teases, her mouth still wet and insistent as she sucks slowly at the pulse point at the base of Emma’s throat. “I had no idea you were this easy, dear.”
Which is almost enough to make Emma throw the bitch off then and there, because damned if she’ll let anyone talk to her that way. But the idea of shoving Regina, and Regina possibly shoving back and things getting a whole other kind of physical is actually turning Emma on even more.
Damn it.
“I’ll show you easy,” Emma warns, before pushing Regina just enough to regain the upper hand. This time Regina is backed against the wall, her expensive clothes scratching against the rough stone. Emma takes the hem of her red turtle neck and yanks it up as a statement of intent. As Regina finishes the task of pulling it over her head, Emma takes the opportunity to unhook Regina’s bra. As the front clasp gives way, Emma instinctively cups her hands over Regina’s breasts, and as she strokes both nipples with her thumbs, Regina in her half-stripped state lets her head fall back and closes her eyes before the first breathy little sigh escapes. And oh God hearing that just makes Emma want to do more to this woman. She might be lacking in experience, but she’s damn well going to make up for it in enthusiasm. She can feel how embarrassingly wet she already is, and the thought of Regina touching her there and finding this fact out to is enough to drive Emma halfway to crazy.
“Kiss me,” Regina mutters, and she’s staring at Emma in that hungry way again.
Emma’s only too happy to oblige. First, she gets rid of her own tank top and bra, and when she kisses Regina again with their bare breasts touching, they’re both moaning into each other’s mouths. This level of need can’t be sustainable, can’t be safe. This whole thing has ‘bad idea’ written all over it and yet Emma doesn’t know that she could stop, even if she wanted to.
Impatient now, she unbuttons Regina’s slacks without any complaint from the other woman. The fabric pools around Regina’s ankles but she simply reaches for the buttons on Emma’s jeans in reply. She’s tugging at them when Emma lends a hand, prompting Regina to grouse just a little.
“What do you do, paint these on?”
“Hey! You weren’t complaining all those times I caught you checking out my ass,” Emma protests.
“I have never--” Regina begins, but Emma places a finger over her lips.
“Don’t even try denying it.”
Regina glares, but a little, but then they’re both standing there in just panties and there are more pressing concerns than things that happened before tonight.
“You’re really beautiful,” Emma confesses, mortified that she has. “I mean, unfairly so. Is this some kind of deal with the devil?”
Regina smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” And then she bends a little to take Emma’s nipple in her mouth, which leads Emma to decide that questions are a waste of very valuable time.
Instead, she runs her hands over every part of Regina that she can reach. Tugging lightly at Regina’s dark hair, Emma’s trying to regain some control over the sensations going off like fireworks inside her. With her other hand she rakes her nails across Regina’s back, delighting in the shocking pink lines and Regina’s sudden hiss against Emma’s breast.
Somehow, they fall into a more acceptable tangle. Kissing, again, hard and without any kind of precision as each woman lets a hand slip inside the panties of the other. Emma’s whisper of a thong is no match for the flexing strength of Regina’s hand, but she doesn’t care that it snaps when she feels the wetness waiting beneath Regina’s black silk.
With their tongues questing for dominance, Emma has to concentrate to keep any kind of rhythm going. Her fingers slip around a little, but there’s no mistaken Regina’s guttural moan of approval when Emma presses down on her clit. Regina recovers quickly, and she’s soon pressing two deft fingers inside of Emma and working them at just the right pace to have Emma almost squealing with pleasure.
There’s no coordination to it, but Emma works her fingers firmly until Regina breaks the kiss to bite down on Emma’s collarbone. She comes quietly, with a shudder that makes Emma feel pretty damn proud of herself, until Regina’s stilled fingers starting pumping again, joined by her thumb on Emma’s clit.
When she comes, Emma sees stars, and it takes Regina to hold her up for a few long moments before Emma can trust her legs again.
“So?” Regina asks, her head resting on Emma’s shoulder. “Does this mean you’re going to tell me what he said?”
Emma freezes, the rush of relaxation wiped out in an instant.
“Are you kidding me?” She splutters, pulling away from Regina.
“Yes,” Regina smirks, before rolling her eyes. “He didn’t tell you anything, or you wouldn’t have risked holding it over me like that. I’m no fool, Emma.”
“Oh, we’re on first name terms now? You’re sticking with that?” Emma asks, incredulous.
“I would say so,” Regina replies, waggling her glistening fingers as an accusation. “Feel free to keep calling me Madam Mayor, you know, for the turn on.”
“Oh, God,” Emma groans, and the sudden chill in the air prompts her to grab at her discarded clothes. Regina does the same, although she seems pretty chilled out about the whole thing.
“When is your temporary Sheriff getting here?” Emma asks as she pulls her jeans back on. “And when do I get out?”
“Oh, you’re free to go Ms Swan,” Regina says with one of her fake smiles. “The coroner is ruling natural causes, I believe.”
“You knew? This whole time?” Emma feels the rage surging through her like the arousal was moments ago. “You goddamned--”
“Now, dear,” Regina says, fastening her bra. “Wasn’t this a lot more fun?”
“It was wrong. We’re supposed to be in mourning, for God’s sake!”
“We were celebrating life,” Regina says as she pulls her sweater back into place. She steps closer to pat Emma gently on the cheek. “I know I feel a lot better.”
“This is never happening again,” Emma warns as Regina picks up her coat and opens the cell door again.
“If you say so,” Regina dismisses her, nodding towards the corridor and Emma’s freedom. Emma storms past her, still pulling her tank top down as she goes.
“Although,” Regina adds, as they walk back towards the staircase. “If it were to happen again, you should probably be at my house at 11 tomorrow morning. Just in case.”