New fic: This Great Distance, OUAT - Emma/Regina, M, Part II
Title: This Great Distance
Author: chilly_flame
Pairing: Emma Swan/Regina Mills
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to ABC/Disney’s Once Upon a Time.
Notes: Thanks so much to damelolafor serving as beta, offering suggestions and edits as well as kind encouragement. Thanks also to the amazing authors who are writing for this pairing-they offer great inspiration.
Summary: Regina and Emma are stumbling in a semi-relationship when a visitor comes to town.
Part II
Regina has her eyes closed. She’s been waiting for this since the moment Emma suggested it. Initially the idea of it made her ill at ease, but Regina has never been one to back down from a challenge. Considering her position, she hopes the problems she’s been having now and then don’t surface tonight.
For some reason, Regina’s recent “extracurricular activities” with Emma are bringing up all sorts of unpleasant memories for her. Not during, of course; she is far too good at living in the moment to be distracted from the sensations Emma draws from her body. But after, these thoughts sail into her head like a cool breeze from an open window. Her past, decades of it spent both in Storybrooke and elsewhere, narrows down to moments both beautiful and terrible.
In the worst moments, she is barraged with memories of losing her virginity. Not to Daniel, as she had longed for so desperately, but to her husband, who never once looked at her with open eyes on their first night together. Or any night after, for that matter. He hurt her every time, because nothing she imagined could ease her pain at his invasion.
Sometimes she’d wondered if her mother had secretly cursed her, denying her any relief during their coupling, but in Leopold’s absence, Regina had no trouble taking care of her own desires. Alone in their marriage bed, she would think of Daniel’s heat, and sweetness, and how she had pleaded with him to take her-who would know? But he had resisted, gallant until the end, pleasuring her only in ways that would preserve her womanhood. On those nights, she had cried herself to sleep.
She would not let go of Daniel’s memory. Could not. But in past weeks, memories even more painful than those of Leopold began to surface. Because after she and Emma finished whatever it was they were doing, there would be something in Emma that reminded Regina of Daniel. The way Emma touched her face, kissed the tips of her fingers, smelled her hair… All of it made Regina freeze up. It was not quite panic, but it was close.
Because while Regina’s heart still beats in another world, even at this great distance she can feel it swelling and glowing in its tiny box. With happiness, or sadness, or loneliness; every throb reveals her story, without her permission, to the one who’d stolen it. For many years, Regina believed that the absence of her heart would keep her mind clear and empty. She has unhappily discovered this not to be the case.
She has feelings. They’re muted, but present. And her mother, Queen of Hearts, Thief of Hearts, knows every one of them.
Regina just hopes Cora has better things to do than track her emotional state through sorcery. It’s been more than a decade, before Henry’s birth, since her last “visit” to Storybrooke. Regina wants to keep it that way.
When she and Emma had started up, it had been easy. A quick fuck in that stupid car had been risky, but after the fight they’d had in the bar, it had just happened. It seemed that all their rage at one another could be drained by a couple of mutual orgasms. That had been more productive and required less recovery time than physically assaulting one another.
But one night, after, Emma had touched her throat, and looked down at her with something like affection. It had been so unexpected that Regina barely knew how to respond. Then it happened again, and again. That look, wide-eyed and soft, was an oasis in Regina’s desert life. And it was starting to frighten her, because sometimes, Regina can see that look on her own face in the mirror, after.
So considering Regina’s quandary of trying not to feel, not to care, she isn’t sure why she’s allowing Emma to do this. Maybe it’s payback, since Regina spanked Emma into submission a week ago. That had been a new addition to their admittedly brief sexual lexicon. It hadn’t been unwelcome on Emma’s part, even though she laughed a little here and there, breaking character. Emma doesn’t take sex very seriously, unlike Regina, who has a history of using sex as a weapon, and who knows what kind of damage it can do. She has experience on both sides of the coin in that respect, thinking of Leopold, and of Graham.
Graham, whom she had abused and then killed. She has many regrets in her life, and of all of them, Graham is a significant one. His heart had been so soft, so easy to crush. Like Daniel’s had surely been in her mother’s hand. She has repeated her own mistakes, and would suffer for them, surely.
But tonight, she will not think of Graham, or Daniel. Tonight, Regina holds her arms above her head in the guest bedroom and leans back against the wall. When she crosses her wrists, she imagines she can hear Emma’s smirk. Emma uses one of Regina’s thigh-highs to hook her tightly to the metal wall hanging, an elaborate wrought-iron thing of leaves, vines and the like. It’s a pretty piece of art, but it doubles well as a place to tie, or be tied. Regina thought of this when she first bought the piece, but she’s never used it for this purpose until tonight. Another of her stockings is wrapped around her eyes, and when she finally opens them, she can’t see a thing. She’d expected to have some level of visibility, since this spare bedroom streams with afternoon sun. She feels Emma’s hair tickling her breasts as she leans forward, and the heat between them flares and sends a blush up her chest.
“How’s that?” Emma murmurs, and Regina nods in response. It’s comfortable, mostly, and she pulls to test the restraint. The hanging is bolted to the wall, so her arms only move slightly from left to right. She prays that Henry doesn’t call from school, because there’s no way she could get to a phone in this state.
“You remember the safe word?” Emma asks, as always the considerate one.
Regina bobs her head. The word flashes through her mind. Meringue. “I know it.”
“So let’s get started,” Emma says, and Regina recognizes the smile in her voice. Two hands travel from Regina’s hips, up her back, along her ribs and under her breasts. Emma avoids any particularly sensitive parts, instead simply tracing a light touch along her bones and skin. Regina breathes through her nose, sounding like an animal to her own ears, until she yelps when Emma’s tongue flicks against her breast. The hairs on her body are all standing at attention, as are her nipples. The room is cool, almost cold, but Regina prefers it that way-she’d hoped the discomfort would keep her from completely falling under Emma’s spell.
It’s not really working.
Every cell in her body is attuned to Emma’s touch, to the sound of her breath. She traces Regina’s ankle, lifted by the patent leather heel, and Regina feels the caress echoed between her legs. Emma follows the line of her calf to the back of her knee, stroking that same path again and again. Regina’s head tips back, and she swallows the moan in her throat. A tongue flicks behind her knee, and Regina’s legs dip, caught by the stocking holding her up. Emma chuckles, and then blows softly against the apex of Regina’s thighs.
Regina jerks against her bindings, gritting her teeth.
Emma goes on, stroking her other leg, so gently, until Regina feels as though she will go mad. A kiss lands on her hip, and for the first time, Regina wants desperately to have her arms free. She is almost at the edge already, and wants to come.
But the touches stop, and nothing else happens. Emma seems to vanish, silent and stealthy. Regina frowns, confused. Never before has she been abandoned by a lover during sex. It goes on for a long time, or so it feels to Regina; blindfolded and trapped, she has no concept of the minutes as they pass. After an endless period of time, she pictures herself, standing naked in her home, vulnerable and powerless. She is pathetic. She is foolish. She is weak.
Against her will, her mother’s face surfaces in her imagination. For all Regina’s outward confidence, her mother is always a breath away. In her mind’s eye, Cora strings her up with rough rope from the stable, holding her aloft in her childhood bedroom. Cora laughs as Regina begs for freedom, pleading that she’ll try to be good, try to be better. Without mercy, Cora leaves Regina trapped for a full day and night before releasing her, with sodden jodhpurs from when she wet herself and an empty belly she’s restricted from filling until the next morning. Cora wants to teach Regina a lesson. Regina learns nothing, other than that when you’re tied up, you’re powerless.
This is why Regina has never allowed herself to be bound by anyone before. Emma is the exception. Regina did not expect to remember wetting herself as an eleven-year-old girl in the process, or get lost in a memory of her mother’s unending torment. She’d been bound many times as a child, and again as a young woman; only after her marriage to Leopold had she been able to avoid it. But she had no doubt that given the opportunity, Cora would have done it again, just to prove her strength.
Regina jerks against the stocking around her wrists. The material chafes her skin. She pulls, and pulls again. Her breathing is labored, and she makes a noise that sounds desperate to her own ears. “Emma,” she says, and it’s a whisper. “Emma,” she calls again. “Emma!”
There is no response.
Regina is alone. In an instant, she panics.
She becomes an animal, shaking and twisting, trying to free herself, but she has no luck. “Emma! Emma!” She knows there’s some word, something she’s supposed to be able to say that will help her, but it’s not there. “Emma!”
After shaking her head hard enough to make her see stars, it comes to her. “Meringue! Meringue!” she shouts, and it’s almost a scream.
“Oh my god!” she hears from downstairs, and the simple sound of Emma’s voice is enough to keep Regina from having a full blown meltdown. Sweat drips from under her arms, and she wishes she could have kept this from happening. But it’s Emma’s fault. “Let me out, let me go--”
She hears the pounding of feet on the steps, followed by a series of thumps nearby. When Emma’s hands rip the blindfold down, she looks as frightened as Regina feels. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you’d freak. I was, um, getting some things.”
As Emma kneels on a tall stool to free her wrists, Regina notices the items scattered across the floor; there’s a can of whipped cream (where did that come from?), a honey bear, a package of strawberries, two honeycrisps, a cantaloupe, and oddly, a container of ricotta cheese.
When she’s free, Regina’s knees give out, and Emma helps her to the floor. She removes her leather jacket and puts it around Regina’s shoulders, keeping her in the circle of her arms. “I’m really sorry.”
Trying to figure out the food is less frightening than confronting her own demons, so Regina asks, “What the hell is all that?” Her voice is rough.
Emma shuts her eyes for a second. “Food. Sex food, you know? I had some ideas. I guess that’s not going to work out.”
Regina frowns. “Ricotta cheese?”
Emma glances over, and laughs helplessly. “I had it in my hand since it was in the way of a bottle of wine in the fridge. I heard you shout, so I came running.”
Regina is still shivering. She is embarrassed and unsettled, but Emma’s mouth is touching her temple with so much softness that it feels beautiful. They sit quietly together as Regina finally begins to relax. She wonders what her heart in its little box looks like at this moment-perhaps as if it’s about to explode.
“I guess this was a bad idea,” Emma says quietly. “I didn’t know.”
Before she can censor herself, Regina mutters, “I didn’t either.”
Emma inhales, leaning back incrementally. She doesn’t speak, and Regina tries not to let the silence add to her discomfort. “Who hurt you, Regina?”
For the first time in decades, Regina wants to confess. All of it, from the day she was born, to the night Daniel died, to Leopold, to her father, to Graham, to now. Instead, she clenches her jaw, keeping all the words in. Emma will leave if she tells, taking Henry with her, and this will all be over.
“I can’t,” Regina finally manages. “I can’t talk about it.”
Emma, for all her brash impatience, does not push. Regina has come to recognize a similar pain in Emma’s eyes, yet Regina has never forced Emma to tell of her tragic childhood and abandonment either.
When Regina sags against Emma, the tension between them breaks. It feels good to be held, and Emma smells so delicious that Regina nuzzles in and tastes her throat. It’s salty, reminding her of what they were doing before their incident. She opens her mouth and bites, very gently, and Emma purrs. “What are you up to?” Emma groans.
After swallowing back any lingering fear, Regina says, “I want to try again.”
Shaking her head, Emma replies, “No way.”
“Yes, way,” Regina replies, and Emma laughs. “I want to.” Looking down at her, Emma’s eyes are wide and tender, and Regina nods. “I want to.” They kiss once, twice before she whispers, “Make me forget.”
That’s all the urging Emma needs. Their next kiss is firm, and Emma’s tongue sweeps into her mouth. “Lemme just, um, put all that stuff back. We’ll save the food for another time.” She glances down at Regina once more. “I’ll be back in like, one minute. Okay?”
Regina nods, and smiles. Her belly is filled with anticipation. As Emma gathers the scattered foods from the floor, Regina pulls the stocking from around her neck; she’ll skip that part. But her wrists…
When Emma returns, Regina’s already standing where she had been before, arms held high. The stocking hangs over her shoulder, waiting for Emma, and the leather jacket is discarded on the floor. “Okay.”
Emma takes a huge breath, eyes drawn to Regina’s breasts. Her breath is already coming faster, and Regina feels a curious power surge through her. “Go ahead, Swan. I’m ready.”
Emma meets her eyes, and the challenge is accepted. She ties Regina in the same way-not too tightly, but with very little give. As Regina watches Emma’s face, her strength, her sense of control seems to multiply. Emma has always enjoyed her body, but it feels like more tonight--like fascination, adoration. Like worship. Emma groans again, and wetness is already gathering between Regina’s legs.
“Don’t you want me, Sheriff Swan?” Regina drawls, noting her lover’s enormous pupils.
“Fuck this,” Emma says, and drops to her knees. “I’m not waiting.” Then her mouth is there, kissing her clit, licking everything she can get her mouth on, and Regina is grateful to be tied. It’s amazing, and her eyes roll back as Emma hoists one thigh onto her shoulder. “Have to,” she murmurs, and her tongue slides inside.
Regina hums, and opens her eyes so she can watch Emma, who is enraptured by her cunt. “Love fucking you,” Emma says, her hands on Regina’s ass, squeezing and digging her nails in.
Pulling on her restraints, Regina arches forward, because that makes it better. She grits her teeth to keep from screaming. The pleasure is as big as the room, bigger, especially when Emma flicks with her tongue, puts her thumbs together and pushes inside.
“Oh, god,” Regina cries, so close, rubbing her heel against Emma’s back, rocking in an endless rhythm. “Yes,” she chants, “yes, yes,” and there’s a groan of metal, and she comes in one huge pulse. The world spins, and somehow Emma catches her as she nearly kills them both, falling to the floor only halfway through her orgasm. Emma helps her onto her back and spreads her legs again, intent on finishing her off, and even though Regina is over-sensitive, Emma presses her tongue hard on her clit, and it’s so good that Regina grabs Emma’s hair with her bound hands and wails as the second peak smashes into her like a tidal wave.
Regina pushes up against Emma’s face, staring at the blond silk spilling over her skin. Her body sings, tingles, shakes apart as Emma laps her up, and when it’s over, Regina collapses. Before she can say a word, Emma is up on her knees, tearing down her jeans and underwear. Her hand goes straight for her clit and she rubs like a maniac, crying out. She leans over Regina one on arm, staring into her face with her mouth hanging open. “You taste so good,” Emma says, and Regina realizes she has to kiss her, right away, so she grabs Emma’s chin and leans up. When they connect it’s barely a kiss; Emma is biting Regina’s lips as she moans and rubs until she jerks forward in an arch. The sound of her cries echoes in the room, and Regina closes her eyes, reveling in it.
Emma’s breathing is harsh, and it’s all Regina can hear for the longest time. She feels like she’s been run over by a truck, and Emma falls on top of her, body still quaking with aftershocks.
A few quiet minutes later, Emma glances up at Regina in astonishment. “Holy fuck,” she sighs. “Did that just happen?”
“I think so,” Regina says. Emma’s weight feels nice on top of her, even with her arms trapped between their bodies.
“I think we need a new system if we ever do this again,” Emma says, not moving an inch. “That thing bent. Didn’t you say it was iron?”
Regina looks up, and when she can focus, she realizes some of the iron leaves that were supposed to hold her are now bent forward. “Huh,” she replies.
“I’ll get some pliers later and fix it,” Emma offers, lifting up enough to pull Regina’s arms out from underneath her. Instead of getting up, she loops Regina’s bound wrists around her neck, and lies back down, pillowing her head against one damp breast. “Once I can move.”
Regina threads her fingers through Emma’s hair, running her foot along one bare thigh. She doesn’t mind that the carpet under her ass is rough and damp with sweat and come. She doesn’t mind that Emma’s head is heavy against her breast. She doesn’t even mind that she can’t move her arms.
She is happier than she’s been in years.
-------
Emma struts down Main with a bearclaw in one hand, coffee cup in another. It all tastes like heaven, and she grins, feeling studly and excellent. She had probably the best sex of all time last night. Hours of it. Her eyelids droop a bit when she thinks about Regina lying on the floor, naked except for the stocking hanging loose around her wrists. And then again later, drowsing in the bathtub, hair slicked back, makeup gone.
Briefly she flashes back to when she and Regina first met. If she had known then… she wouldn’t change a thing.
“What are you smiling at?” Leroy grunts as he walks by at the corner, frowning.
“Nothing,” Emma replies. “Hey, Leroy.”
“Yeah,” he says, and keeps on going.
Emma shrugs and takes a bite of the bearclaw. “Yum,” she mumbles, mouth full.
There’s a lot of paperwork to do about nothing in particular; some outstanding parking tickets, a noise complaint on 3rd street because of cats in heat; two drunk in publics from outside Granny’s last night at 2am after the bar closed. She sits and organizes files for a while, then gets lost in thought, because really, there isn’t that much happening. Mostly, she thinks about Regina, because what the hell else is she going to ponder at this time of day? Especially when Madam Mayor is probably sitting behind her desk, looking official and proper and fuckable in every way.
Emma glances around in case anyone might be watching her. No one is.
Later she gets lunch at Granny’s and chats with Ruby for a while. The waitress is learning the books with Granny, and as much as she complains about it, Emma senses that she takes pride in the progress she’s making. On the flip side, she laments the lack of fresh meat in the Storybrooke bar scene. Emma keeps her mouth shut on that note.
Back at the office, Emma spends the afternoon fielding calls from various citizens who want to discuss everything from the best time of day to run their sprinklers, to when the stop sign at the corner of Cherry and Jasmine will be cleaned, since someone tagged it with a lightning bolt. By five, Emma is so ready to get to the City Council meeting she can hardly stand it. Normally she is fully engaged in her work, but she forgives herself for drifting. It’s Regina’s fault anyway.
As she strolls to the town hall, she barely sees what’s in front of her, instead remembering the new, strange version of Regina she discovered last night, screaming to be freed from her bindings. Emma hasn’t dealt with a vulnerable Regina since Henry was trapped in the mine, but this was no comparison. Emma is convinced she’ll never forget the look on Regina’s face the moment she tore that blindfold away. There was so much there-fear, anxiety, relief, and something else… something dark. Emma can survive not knowing what put that chasm in Regina’s soul, but she hopes whoever contributed to it doesn’t live in this town so she doesn’t have to illegally kick some ass.
She ignores that thought for two reasons; one is that she doesn’t want to break any laws, and the other is that whatever her feelings are for Regina, they are way deeper than Emma ever intended them to be. So much for the hate sex they’d had for so many weeks. Emma’s irritated that instead of hate sex, now it seems like… well, not hateful. Not at all.
Enough, she thinks. Just go in there and try not to look like you’re imagining Regina’s face while she eats you out.
Which of course, does not work. As soon as she sits down, she squirms, because there’s Regina in a staid blue suit jacket and black button-up shirt, with one too many buttons undone. And all Emma can think about is the roughness of Regina’s tongue, and her sharp teeth as they rake along tender skin.
From the look on her face, Regina knows exactly what she’s thinking. Which means she’s thinking about it too.
Emma tears her gaze away, and lands on Kathryn, who waves hello from a few rows away. After a few shellshocked seconds, Emma recovers and waves back awkwardly. With a smile, Kathryn motions for her to move over, and Emma is happy for the distraction.
“How are you?” Kathryn asks as Emma sits.
“Pretty good. Slow day at the office,” Emma replies.
“That’s good, I suppose. Better than busy!”
They make small talk about Henry, and avoid discussing David. He’s still living with Kathryn, but Emma wonders exactly what Kathryn knows, and what David and Mary-Margaret are really up to. After a few minutes, Regina calls the meeting to order, and Emma sinks back in her chair. She licks her lips and considers Regina’s shoes, as well as her ankles under the table. With a little shiver, she schools her features and zones out.
There’s a lot of talking, about things like expanding the castle park that Regina had built in the woods, and disaster preparedness in the event of upcoming winter storms. Something is said about two sizable potholes on the bikepath near the water that need to be filled. Eventually, Emma gets the sense that people are getting restless, and Regina starts to wrap things up. Emma hopes she didn’t miss anything significant, but Regina will fill her in if need be. Maybe they can have a fight about it, since she’s sure Regina noticed that Emma paid absolutely no attention at all in this meeting. Other than to notice the way the light casts shadows against Regina’s olive skin, only partially covered by the black blouse that shifts suggestively with every move she makes.
Regina stands up and leans forward, hands on the table, and Emma watches hungrily. She’s really got to get a handle on this attraction thing. Briefly Regina glances at Emma, and their eyes lock. The Mayor might be speaking, but Emma doesn’t hear anything over the buzz of excitement in her belly. A moment later, Regina’s gaze moves on, and Emma remembers the room is filled with other people who are (probably) not thinking about fucking the Mayor on her desk in approximately five minutes. But just as Emma is about to get up, she senses an almost electric snap in the air, and the color drains from Regina’s face. Emma feels the change as a physical punch-she exhales audibly when Regina’s expression morphs into the terrified shape she glimpsed last night. Right away the look evaporates into disinterest, and Emma turns around to see what could have possibly brought it to the surface in public.
A woman is standing in the back of the room. She appears to be in her early sixties but might be younger, with jet black hair and a red, red mouth. Her lips form a smile that holds no joy.
Emma recognizes that smile, and the emptiness behind it.
This woman is Regina’s mother. Without a single iota of evidence or information, Emma knows immediately that this is the person who hurt Regina. She is not the only person, most certainly, but she was perhaps the first.
Glancing back at Regina, she notes the tremble of elegant fingers. Out of nowhere, Emma wants to kick this woman’s ass from here to Connecticut. She snarls and stands, stalking toward the table in the front of the room. “See ya, Kathryn,” she throws over her shoulder. Regina has barely called the meeting to a close before Emma thrusts her face near hers. “Who the fuck is that?”
“Go home, Sheriff Swan.” This is The Mayor speaking, not the Regina who opened up to her less than 24 hours ago.
“No,” Emma breathes. “You’re in trouble--”
“Regina, dear,” comes a voice behind Emma, and her spine stiffens like a board-there is something here, something terrible-
“Mother,” Regina says, “What are you doing here?”
A long pause stretches between the three of them. “Well it’s nice to see you too, dear. And it’s been just so long that I felt I simply must pay you a visit.”
Emma takes one look at Regina’s face and figures that it’s time for her to make herself scarce. She nods, once, and smiles without looking into the eyes of the woman who hovers just to her right. “Hi,” she says, keeping her focus off of the face that has freaked her shit out in a serious way. “Gotta take care of some official business, excuse me,” she murmurs, but the woman ignores her. Before she leaves the hall, Emma glances back and sees Regina’s mother move around the table so smoothly it’s like magic. She takes Regina into an embrace, and Regina doesn’t move. Not to put arms around her, not to smile, not to say a word.
Emma wants to kill her.
---
Part III.