Fanfic: Once Upon a Time Emma/Regina PG
Yes Kidneys, while everyone else is working on NaNoWriMo I am working on short fic. It's a start. Maybe next year. My first OUaT fic. Comments may get you more fic. Oh I need some Emma/Regina icons. Anyone?
There was no easy way to explain the attraction. Was it even an attraction? It felt more like a compulsion. A desperate, yearning, knife twisting in the belly need. Regina threw the book on the floor and grabbed for her wine glass. Wine had become a faithful friend recently, quieting her nerves when they were rubbed raw. And Emma Swan certainly rubbed them raw.
The illicit nature of their trysts bothered Regina very little. Always Tuesday, after the PTA meeting. Always after eleven, when they (and they were a THEY by now, surely) could be certain that their shared child was safely sleeping. Regina would blur the edges of dreary mayordom with a bottle of Haute Brion, would move the denizens of Storybrooke around like chess pieces they were (to her mind) and wait. Wait for time to fitfully pass until the quiet knock came to the door, lest the bell wake Henry.
Every time the knock came, she swore she wouldn’t answer. She always did. As inevitable as night following day, Regina would rise from her living room and with feline grace cross to the door. Every time the knock came, she swore it would be the last time.
This time, as with every time previously, Emma Swan would be standing on her porch. And in that instance, Regina would feel her pulse quicken, her breathing become almost ragged with need, and her heart (for yes, even Regina Mills had one) would do a slow lazy turn when confronted with the woman of her latest obsession.
And of all women to chose. Henry’s birth mother. Complication. Needless complication. Like listening to that heart when it did that slow lazy turn at the very sight of Emma. Another needless complication. But what an enticing complication Emma was. The glowing eyes, the pale skin, the obligatory leather jacket. Regina prepared herself to say something but Emma grabbed her, pushed her hard against a wall and covered Regina’s mouth with her own. And for the first time, perhaps for the only time, Regina allowed her mind to go blank, all pretensions, pre-occupations, and persistent thoughts to fall silent and lose herself in the woman whose tongue had so deftly parted her lips. She was a woman lost in the touch of her lover and in that instant, and all the others that followed, it was enough.
There was no easy way to explain the attraction. Was it even an attraction? It felt more like a compulsion. A desperate, yearning, knife twisting in the belly need. Regina threw the book on the floor and grabbed for her wine glass. Wine had become a faithful friend recently, quieting her nerves when they were rubbed raw. And Emma Swan certainly rubbed them raw.
The illicit nature of their trysts bothered Regina very little. Always Tuesday, after the PTA meeting. Always after eleven, when they (and they were a THEY by now, surely) could be certain that their shared child was safely sleeping. Regina would blur the edges of dreary mayordom with a bottle of Haute Brion, would move the denizens of Storybrooke around like chess pieces they were (to her mind) and wait. Wait for time to fitfully pass until the quiet knock came to the door, lest the bell wake Henry.
Every time the knock came, she swore she wouldn’t answer. She always did. As inevitable as night following day, Regina would rise from her living room and with feline grace cross to the door. Every time the knock came, she swore it would be the last time.
This time, as with every time previously, Emma Swan would be standing on her porch. And in that instance, Regina would feel her pulse quicken, her breathing become almost ragged with need, and her heart (for yes, even Regina Mills had one) would do a slow lazy turn when confronted with the woman of her latest obsession.
And of all women to chose. Henry’s birth mother. Complication. Needless complication. Like listening to that heart when it did that slow lazy turn at the very sight of Emma. Another needless complication. But what an enticing complication Emma was. The glowing eyes, the pale skin, the obligatory leather jacket. Regina prepared herself to say something but Emma grabbed her, pushed her hard against a wall and covered Regina’s mouth with her own. And for the first time, perhaps for the only time, Regina allowed her mind to go blank, all pretensions, pre-occupations, and persistent thoughts to fall silent and lose herself in the woman whose tongue had so deftly parted her lips. She was a woman lost in the touch of her lover and in that instant, and all the others that followed, it was enough.