With The Tide - Chapter 13 - And the Devil to Pay
Rating: M
Characters/Pairing: Emma Swan/Regina Mills, Emma Swan/Captain Hook, Emma Swan/OFC, Snow White/Prince Charming, Belle/Rumplestiltskin, assorted other characters.
Warnings: Dub-con and graphic sex lie in wait. Be prepared.
Author’s Note: Having received a lot of negative feedback, I would just like to remind you that I know Emma is a rude, ignorant asshole. I wrote her that way on purpose. And she’s probably going to get even worse before she gets better.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
Chapter 13
And the Devil to Pay
The days began to blur past Emma. One day, before the crack of dawn, she pulled Regina out of bed and ordered her up on deck. Emma spent twenty minutes showing off her well-honed racer’s dive under the pretence of teaching her some good techniques. It was only after her sixth dive that Regina told her she could already dive.
Another afternoon, after Emma had surrendered the wheel of The Bloody Blade to Grumpy, she handed Regina a sword and cleared a circle on deck for practice. To start with, Emma had her imitating various stances - defensive, mostly. Then they began to spar gently, Emma often stopping to correct the Princess’s stance or teach her the block for a certain strike.
But she wasn’t Regina’s only tutor during those long, hot afternoons. Sometimes her father would step in, taking Regina’s hand and guiding it in a furious duel against Emma’s own blade. Often, a sweaty Regina would sit down with a canteen of water and watch while she and Charming went at one another enthusiastically. After all two centuries of knowing each other, duelling to within an inch of each other’s lives was still their favourite way to bond.
Once, Emma had dropped Regina off with Red under instructions to teach her how the cannons worked. But when she had come back two hours later, both women were almost entirely stripped down from the exertion. Emma resented the lechery in Red’s eyes and had swiftly guided the Princess back upstairs.
One day, Emma had handed over the reins to her subordinates and made herself and Regina a part of the crew. She had taught her how to tie off a line, how to loose the sails and how to tell port from starboard. That evening, they had sat out on the Quarterdeck for an eternity with a bottle of rum for Emma, while the Captain showed her how to tell which way the wind was blowing and how to smell a storm on the breeze.
But it wasn’t only Regina becoming educated in her attempt to live as fully as possible before she was forced back into her gilded cage.
The Princess was determined that Emma would be literate by the time the Blade was docked at Port Wordsworth. She was pleased to learn that Emma knew some primitive letters (N, E, S and W) but had her tracing many odd characters on paper. They spent long, tricky hours going through books Belle had left behind, Regina choosing saucy passages in an affectionately misguided attempt to make it more interesting for Emma.
But evenings were the most interesting time of all.
On one of her exploratory sessions through the ship, Regina had found a lute. A blushing Bashful had admitted to being able to play and Regina had situated him on the steps to the Quarterdeck with instructions to play a melody which Emma had never heard of before.
“Hey!” She had protested as Regina had dragged her to the spot where they had been duelling and sweating with swords that afternoon. “I have been to balls before, you know!”
“One or two at most,” Regina pointed out. “And I’m willing to bet you wore a scowl and the most outrageous gown you could find, and then refused to dance.”
“How would I thieve the ladies’ pearls if I didn’t dance?” Emma enquired innocently, as Regina placed her hands at her waist.
“Don’t you dare even think about thieving mine!” Regina warned her off.
Emma naturally took the lead of the dance, guiding Regina through a series of graceful steps. She wasn’t a perfect dancer by any stretch of the imagination but she knew her way around a very simple waltz.
“Where did you learn to do this?” Regina asked, once again surprised by Emma’s proficiency in unexpected areas, especially considering she couldn’t even read or write.
“Funny story, actually,” Emma said, reminiscent. “It was the night before I had to formally return the Sceptre of Spring to the doddering old fools in the Springlands court. I had Red and Charming with me because it was, oh…” the Captain thought hard. “Twenty or so years before Snow joined the crew, so Red was still my Quartermaster.”
“Snow only joined your crew -“ Regina’s face twisted as she did the sums in her head. “28 years ago? Wow - what’s the age difference between her and Charming?”
“Two hundred and ninety seven years,” Emma admitted. “Bigger than ours, even…” Her hand dipped dangerously low down Regina’s back, brushing the globes of her ass.
Regina frowned at her. “People watching,” she cautioned her. “Continue with the story, if you please.”
“Anyway,” Emma shook her head and grinned shamelessly at her lover. “We’d just been informed that there would be a ball to celebrate the Sceptre’s return and we were the guests of honour - so naturally we would have to dance.”
Regina winced. “Let me guess - all three of you boasted two left feet.”
“Not quite,” Emma shook her head. “Charming was up all night trying to teach us the dances we would need. The ball went off without a hitch… for the most part.”
“Come on then, Swan,” Regina challenged her. “How did you ruin the occasion?”
Emma studied the Princess and tried to decide how much detail was too much detail. Eventually she decided on an explanation both concise and family-friendly. “I met a very lovely woman whose name was, I remember, Lady Hermione of Bullcross. She was in an arranged marriage and unhappy about it, but before I could do more than flirt, her husband turned up. Well, he was a nasty bastard and wanted to duel me to the death… ”
The Princess’s eyes widened perceptibly. “Who won?” She demanded.
Shrugging, Emma twirled her round. “It was a draw. Though I did extract three cows, a sword and a contract of marriage to the next female heir to Bullcross… though I doubt I’ll ever have cause to use the latter, considering I managed to seduce the Princess of Springlands herself.”
Regina giggled. She pulled the Captain in closer than was strictly appropriate. “So you managed to stay out of our jail on that occasion, then? Are you a criminal anywhere else?”
“I’m wanted in two different lands,” Emma murmured. “And not for my body. For theft and conspiring to overthrow the monarchy, respectively.”
“Conspiring to overthrow the monarchy?” Regina asked inquisitively. “Should I be worried?”
Emma let out a bark of laughter. “It was a bullshit charge. Our lovely friend Queen Maleficent of Autumnlands tried to hire me to find Prince Thomas, who by all accounts went into hiding when the Queen killed his brother. I refused; she fabricated the worst charge she could conceive of - treason.”
“How did you escape?” The Princess questioned breathily.
But just then, the music grounded to a halt and Emma drew back to kiss her hand. “I’ll tell you one day,” she promised. The Captain withdrew from the deck, where various pirates had begun to dance to the lively jig that Bashful struck up.
“Emma!” Regina called after her, but the Captain merely slid through a door and disappeared. Once on the other side, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Emma had been doing her very best to make Regina’s numbered days enjoyable and thrilling - so they would last her perhaps all her life. But all the while, what she had said to Emma that night when she had first fucked the Princess… Emma couldn’t seem to forget it. And whenever she was around Regina, she felt oddly stifled and yet… happy.
Her fist hit the wall with a thump as the Captain gnashed her teeth in frustration. She didn’t want the Princess’s love and certainly hadn’t done anything to deserve it. What if Regina expected her to give up her bounty, change her mind so that the two of them could sail the seas together… forever. Whimpering, Emma slid down the wall so she could duck her head between her legs in shame.
The worst of it all, though - was that Emma wanted to. She wanted to be nauseatingly in love and say “don’t worry, darling… I won’t let them take you away from me.” She wanted tales written of the dread pirate Emma Swan falling under the spell of the beautiful Princess Regina and how they lived their fairytale existence somewhere out there on the seven seas.
She punched the wall again and pain shot through her wrist. She wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t submit. She was Emma Swan, for fuck’s sake; she kept her own parents at arm’s length and stole from the rich to give to her crew. She had never ever needed anybody, not since Bae, and Princess Regina was not going to change that.
Satisfied that her resolve would hold (at least for now, a little voice whispered), Emma got up off the floor and sat at the desk of the little annex she had locked herself away in. It had been Belle’s map room, previously. But as her Navigator was no longer with them, the task of plotting a route had fallen to Emma… and it had been a long time since she had been forced to do such a thing. She had forgotten how much illiteracy impeded the process of route-plotting and, though Regina’s lessons were helping, Emma couldn’t hope to make progress quickly.
Unrolling the first of the maps, she settled in for a long night.
An hour in, the door was flung open. It was a very drunk, unsteady Grumpy, who pointed at her with his rum tankard. Red stood behind him, looking no less inebriated, but somehow managing to carry a whole stack of flagons and skins.
“You!” Grumpy shakily indicated her. “Never have no fun no more!”
He shut the door behind Red, who dumped both the pile of receptacles and herself on the floor. Grumpy fell to the ground next to her, feeding greedily on his tankard.
“Cut loose, Capt’n,” Red slurred. “Maps can wait. ‘Til sunrise.”
Emma cocked an eyebrow at both of them. “If I drink as much as you two obviously intend me too, I’ll be more preoccupied with how to cut off my own head at sunrise.” Nevertheless, she seated herself next to Red and helped herself to a skin.
What was it she had told Regina about her drinking, that night when she had her chained to the railings… still an untrustworthy, manipulative captive? Oblivion is always better than pain. It was ironic; pain then was the loss of love - the loss of Bae and her son. Pain now was living with love, knowing that she would break the heart of an innocent.
But would it be any better? Emma asked herself. If I let her think that I love her?
No… she decided. The truth hurts… but living a lie would hurt a lot more.
And so Emma began to down her first skin of the night, her only intent to erase the pain of indecision from her mind.
There was a knock on the door that cut through the indigo-coloured haze in Emma’s mind. She tried to stumble to her feet, but could only manage to get on to her knees. Slowly she made her way over to the doorway and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “come in” to her toxic, jumbled brain.
The door slid open a crack and Regina’s tan face, pale in only the moonlight, looked down at her. Emma couldn’t see her expression from on her knees, but even in her animalistic state could deduce that the Princess was unhappy with her.
“Hey,” she smiled up at her from the floor, going for charming or seductive, whilst all the time knowing she must be a sight for sore eyes.
Regina said nothing, but crouched down to put an arm around her torso and hook her wrist under Emma’s left armpit. Then she hoisted her to her feet, which - much to Emma’s surprise - she could still feel. And still, the Princess was silent as she helped her back up on deck, across it and back down a set of stairs into her bedchamber.
Indeed, her first words were merely “drink some water.” She held out a full canister of the liquid, which Emma batted to one side. It spilled all over the floor and Regina sighed in exasperation. “What is wrong with you?” She demanded.
“What?” Emma mocked. “Don’t love me when I’m drunk?”
Regina noticeably recoiled and the Captain flopped down on her bedspread, trying to crawl up to where soft pillows were, but not having much success.
“Why are you doing this?” The Princess asked, so quietly Emma could barely even catch the words. She recalled the girl had seen her this drunk before, after Belle had nearly died because of her. Emma suspected that that evening, she had been very flirtatious rather than very rude and the change was a bit of a shock for Regina. Sighing, she rolled over onto her back.
“I care about you,” Emma informed her, unable to control the flow of words from her mouth. “Doesn’t mean I love you. Or that I’ll save you. ‘Cos I won’t.”
Regina looked down at her, but somehow the Captain still held all the power in this exchange. “I know,” the girl informed her, shy as a mouse. “I don’t expect -“
“Don’t you?” Emma asked her thickly, shuffling along to the end of the bed and meeting Regina’s eyes. “Do you know that when you’re married I won’t think about you? Won’t care about you? You may pop out a couple of infants and I’ll hear about it on my travels and remember those nights I spent fucking the Queen of Winterlands -“
Crack. Emma had felt the sting of the slap on her cheek... hard.
“Stop,” Regina pleaded. Her hands were combing through Emma’s hair and she pressed a desperate kiss to her mouth. “Please… just stop.”
“Why?” Emma taunted her. “Because you love me?”
Regina’s hands seemed to act of their own accord, smacking Emma’s shoulders and pushing her back down on the bedspread. “Shut up!” She yelled, covering the Captain’s body with her own. “Shut up,” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut.
“You don’t want to hear my words?” Emma enquired, breathing alcohol into Regina’s face. “Get out!”
Instead, she found her chest suddenly bared to the Princess’s eyes as the girl ripped her shirt open. Then just as quickly, her breeches were torn from her legs and Regina was pressing against her crotch, hard. “Ouch!” Emma yelped, trying to scramble back from her touch but finding herself pinned. Then three fingers, with no warning whatsoever, sank into her body and started pounding at her core.
“Stop,” Emma ordered the Princess. “Regina! Stop!”
“Don’t worry, Captain,” the girl growled back. “I’m sure a dirty whore like you has had it much rougher than this.”
Then with a startling and clarifying realisation, Emma realised what was going on. Role reversal. Her own words had put Regina back in a place of powerlessness and the alcohol on her breath, which had previously triggered a flashback had this time triggered… this. Did Regina even realise what she was doing? Was this what it had been like for the newly-engaged scared little girl who had been forced to entertain a King in his bedchamber?
If Emma had been a naïve, virginal seventeen-year-old, what Regina was doing now probably would have terrified her too. But she wasn’t, she was approaching her 276th birthday and Regina was right, she had done it much rougher than this. And she knew how to find pleasure in it, unlike a seventeen-year-old would.
Her pale hand reached up to wind itself harshly into the Princess’s hair and she brought her head down for a kiss. Regina’s fingers were chafing her pussy raw, so Emma reached down between their bodies so she could make it a little less painful by circling and stroking her clit. Gradually, between her own ministrations and the way Regina sucked on her tongue, the penetration felt less bluntly painful.
Emma could pinpoint the exact moment Regina realised who she was and what she was doing because she stopped kissing Emma and lost her balance, falling on the bedspread next to her. All of her fingers were suddenly withdrawn from her channel and Emma suddenly felt rather empty. Then the Princess began to sob and she tried to forget her own arousal, placing a callused hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Regina-“
“Don’t touch me!” The girl shrieked as she curled herself into the foetal position. “I - I tried to…” she spluttered.
“Regina,” Emma placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. “Look at me.”
The Princess refused, curling herself into an even tighter ball, if that was even possible and let out a shaky sob. “Regina,” Emma tried again. “I love you.”
“No you don’t,” the girl replied, her voice muffled in her thighs. “If you loved me, we wouldn’t still be sailing towards Port Wordsworth.”
Emma let out a long, frustrated sigh and shook the Princess’s shoulders, hard. “I forgive you!” She burst out and Regina unfurled herself, with wide eyes.
“Don’t forgive me!” Regina begged her, still sobbing with guilt. Emma wrapped her arms around the Princess’s torso and lay on her side, holding her until she cried herself out and fell into a fitful sleep.
Emma traced a finger along the curve of her shoulder. When had life become so messy? A month ago she had been just another average pirate. A longer lifespan than most, perhaps, but a looter, smuggler, killer…
She slowly withdrew her arm from where she had pulled Regina into her form and slipped out from under the sheets and blankets. She padded across the wooden floor, stopping only to grab her brown overcoat from where she had dropped it on the floor. Emma stuffed her arms through the sleeves and pulled it around her mostly naked form - Regina had ripped the shirt from her body and her breeches had been tossed somewhere unknown.
She shuffled up the steps towards the deck, keen to feel the sobering cold night air on her face. On deck, in solitude, everything felt simpler. Emma climbed the stairs to the Quarterdeck, but stopped suddenly, hearing the sound of voices arguing softly.
It was Charming and Snow. Her father, she remembered, was on shift for manning the wheel. But what was her step-mother doing there in the wee hours? Emma strained her ears, trying to listen in on their debate, which wasn’t too hard as the volume of their voices was increasing by the second.
“You’re insane!” Snow’s voice scoffed. It was a mockingly derisive statement and it was so unlike her step-mother that Emma had to restrain herself from checking it was actually her, and not some impersonator.
Charming interrupted. “I’m not insane, sweetheart. I’m sick of being pursued by my father and the Nevic Navy buffoons. Don’t forget - we have Henry to think of now, too.” Emma’s brow furrowed - why did they have to think of Henry? As his mother, wasn’t that her job?
“You are not thinking of Henry!” Snow exclaimed. “If we do as you so ludicrously suggest, there’s a good chance we will both be killed and then what will that boy have left? Only Emma and God knows who she’ll choose to help her look after him! Henry will stay on board this very ship forever and learn to steal, pillage and murder!”
Emma saw red, and yet still managed to stay down. Her own parents thought she was incapable of caring for a child? And what the hell was Charming’s plan?
“But if we succeed - !”
“If we succeed,” Snow conceded. “It’ll be brilliant. Fantastic. Perfect, even. You’ll be King David I of Neverland and I’ll be -“
“Queen Mary I,” Charming said firmly. “The only rightful heir to the throne of Winterlands.”
Emma gaped at the open air. They weren’t seriously considering… did her parents want to invade and take over Neverland?
Snow laughed from the Quarterdeck. “David!” She exclaimed, which was how they all knew he was in trouble. David was Charming’s real name, which was only very rarely heard on board. “I am not, nor will I ever be the rightful heir to the throne of Winterlands. I am illegitimate! Just as Emma and Henry will never be in line to the throne of Neverland… because they are also illegitimate! You’re living in a delusion that we’re all royalty and deserve to be living in grandeur!”
Emma’s head sank to her knees. So that was what the fight was really about. Although all three of them (Charming, Snow and Emma) had royal blood, only Charming knew what it was like to actually be a royal. He had been the beloved Prince of his land for seventy years before he had fathered Emma and had run away with half the royal coffers to become a pirate.
Neither Snow nor Emma had been so lucky. Snow’s father was King Leopold of Winterlands, Regina’s fiancé and by most accounts, a nice man. Emma, knowing how he had refused any kind of relationship with Snow and how he had raped Regina, was of the opposite opinion. He had cast Snow (or Mary-Margaret then) out from his family as soon as she was born and she had joined Emma’s crew at the first opportunity.
So Snow was right. Charming was delusional. None of them deserved luxury, much less a crown.
“Charming,” Snow said softly, after long moments of silence. “Somebody’s listening in.”
In a brief burst of panic-fuelled adrenaline, Emma slid silently off the side of the stairs to the Quarterdeck and curled herself up in a ball in the shadows. Charming stomped past with his usual graceful subtlety.
Emma sat there, drowning in her own thoughts and concerns. Her primary concern was for the mental faculties of her father; how could he be so irrational to think that an invasion of Neverland would be a good plan? But what really hurt deep down was Snow implying that Emma would be a bad parent to Henry. Granted, she knew she wasn’t the best role model on the seven seas… but neither were Snow nor Charming! They all killed, looted, fucked… her father and step-mother just happened to be married in the meantime.
Hearing no more sound from the Quarterdeck and hoping she was safe to move, Emma slid down the steps and into her chambers. Since the door had been blown off by the Nevic Navy, she had put up a sheet to protect her privacy. In this case it was a blessing, considering a door would’ve creaked and given away to Snow and Charming that she had been listening intently to their argument.
Emma got up off the floor and dusted off her brown coat as she re-entered her own chambers. She hadn’t been prepared for crouching in dusty corners whilst eavesdropping and was shivering as she dropped the coat to the floor. Her naked form bared once more, she slid under the covers and lay next to her lover. Regina was warm but rather than doing the instinctual thing and wriggling away from Emma’s ice-cold body, she snuggled in so she was the little spoon, warming all of the Captain’s limbs.
“Where did you go?” The Princess asked sleepily.
Emma contemplated the long strands of brunette hair spread across her pillows, the warmth of their shared body heat and the flutter of fondness in her heart for the mother of her child. Then she did something quite out of character. Emma leaned in to kiss Regina on the forehead - an unnecessary display of affection.
“Just for some fresh air,” Emma reassured her. “Don’t worry.”
Then she wrapped her arm back around her lover and wondered why, suddenly, it felt like the world had stopped spinning around them… if only for a moment.
Of course, that feeling lasted only until Emma fell asleep. She dreamt of blood, and betrayal; her son being clutched in her parents’ dead hands and Regina, pinned beneath King Leopold and utterly helpless. And Emma in the middle of it all, the deciding factor in all of their fates and yet discarded, masked… unable to make a decision.
She awoke with a start, breathing hard and felt a cool, soft hand caressing her forehead. “Are you okay?” Regina asked her quietly, propped up on one elbow.
Emma inhaled, long and slow, then exhaled calmly. Trying to regulate her breathing was the simplest thing to focus on, she knew. It kept at bay the horrors her mind had created for her to see in her dreams. “I’m fine,” she eventually replied to her lover’s question. She didn’t describe what she had seen or experienced. Opinion was divided on whether past events should be shared and relived or shut up in a box and locked away forever. Emma belonged to the latter camp, and so said nothing.
The Captain liked to think that Regina had learned by now that she wasn’t the type to sniffle and share her nightmares. But of course the girl was stubborn and inquisitive by nature. “What were you dreaming about?” She asked softly, still stroking sweaty strands of hair from Emma’s forehead.
The blonde rolled over onto her side so she wouldn’t have to look at her. “My diseased mind amuses itself by creating images that would turn a pure soul black and erode what little is left of my own.”
There was a long pause from Regina’s side of the bed. “That sounds… tiring.”
And then suddenly there was a warm body at her back and an arm curved around her own waist. Emma frowned. She, by her very nature, was absolutely not a little spoon and she was about to challenge Regina when she realised that… actually, she was rather comfortable.
Emma wouldn’t truly submit to her contentedness by doing something as foolish as kissing Regina’s palm or interlacing their fingers. But she did nestle herself firmly into the Princess. If she was offering her body as a human pillow, then who was Emma to refuse such hospitality?
“Regina,” she said softly. “About earlier on…”
“Please let’s not talk about it,” Regina pleaded. “I really am -“
“Sorry, I know,” Emma finished for her. “But it was my fault really, for getting so drunk. And I only got drunk because I have to do the navigation now, as well as be the Captain. So I was wondering, as you are so well educated… would you like to be my new navigator?”
Emma could almost hear Regina smirking behind her and she was about to re-think all this little spoon business when the Princess spoke. “Is that your roundabout way of asking me to join your crew?”
“Maybe,” Emma told her, being deliberately evasive. Remember, she chided herself, this is all temporary. Don’t get attached.
Regina’s thumb caressed her taut stomach. “What will you do once I am gone?”
“I hope,” Emma admitted. “That Belle will be back with us by then, otherwise I’m going to fucking crumble under the burden of both captaincy and navigation.”
“Why don’t you just ask somebody else to do it?” Regina asked curiously. “You’ve proven you don’t have to be literate to do it.”
Emma considered her question. Why hadn’t she just delegated the role to somebody else? In truth, perhaps she had just been seeking an excuse to spend less time with Regina, who proclaimed to love her.
“Navigation requires both education and competence,” Emma told her eventually. “Nobody else on board fits the bill, and I know I can just about get by.” She covered Regina’s hand on her belly with her own. “You, on the other hand, will excel.”
“Now you’re just trying to sweet-talk me,” Regina teased hesitantly. “I’ve told you, Emma. I don’t know -“ she paused, and the Captain knew she was flushing with embarrassment. “I don’t know how. And now I’m not sure… if I can get past what I did to you. Earlier.”
Emma rubbed her thumb along the line of Regina’s forefinger and rolled over until the two of them were nose-to-nose and unusually intimate. “And I’ve told you,” Emma met their lips briefly. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just like learning to swim or sword-fight. And as for earlier, you were right,” she admitted. “I’ve had it much rougher. So it really didn’t bother me.” She pecked her lips again. “I wanted it. I wanted you… so much. And I still do.”
Regina tucked her head beneath her chin, partially, Emma suspected, so she wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. When she eventually spoke again, the Captain could hear the mortification in her tone; her desire to please Emma was conflicting with her staunch upbringing. “If I… will you… help?”
Emma ducked her head to kiss her lover again… “Of course.”
She let their tongues play together, sucking Regina’s gently into her mouth to relax her, as though she was going to be the one taking the lead. She wasn’t, of course, but figured that simulating their past experiences together to start with couldn’t hurt.
It seemed to work well; Regina’s hands interwove with her golden locks. Emma stretched her head back, hoping the Princess would take the hint and move her intentions down the pale column of her throat. She didn’t. Emma sighed. This might be harder than originally imagined.
She broke their kiss and locked eyes with the girl. This whole relationship, whatever the hell it was, was harder than originally imagined. Enemies… captive and captor… parents… friends… lovers… Emma wanted nothing more than to throw the Princess off the ship before they got even more intertwined than they already were. But she knew she couldn’t because she could admit, with gritted teeth, that she cared for the girl.
So instead of yelling, or firmly directing, or losing her patience…. Emma took on the sort of personality that would be able to help Regina through this. Would be able to actually care for her, not just say that she did. She interlaced their fingers together, and dragged their joined hands slowly down over the top of her sternum and onto the incline of her right breast.
Emma unfolded Regina’s hand like a flower and pressed it against her, creating delicious friction against her nipple. She pulled the Princess’s thumb over her tight nub and rubbed it softly, until she was sure that Regina would continue without her help. Slowly, Emma let her own hand drop to her side, until her lover was fondling her right breast without any aid. “The left, too,” she said hoarsely.
Regina’s tan hand reached for her left nipple and then, without any prompting, began to roll it very gently between her thumb and forefinger. Taken by surprise, Emma let out a gasp and cursed herself when the Princess immediately halted all action. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” She asked timidly.
“Fuck, no, Regina…” Emma groaned. “If I can take three fingers without preparation, this is a fucking cakewalk.” As if to accentuate her point, she thrust her chest up into the girl’s hand until she got the hint to keep going before Emma did something desperate like died where she was lying.
As the Princess began to roll her nipple again hesitantly, Emma tried to quell natural impatience. But she didn’t think it was humanly possible to come at such a slow pace. Taking Regina by complete surprise, she rolled the two of them over until she was on top.
“I thought - “ Regina started but Emma pressed a finger to her lips.
“If you were trying to kill me,” Emma began. “From slow burn arousal… it was a nice attempt.” And with that, she began to move up Regina’s body until her knees were sandwiched either side of her head.
“What are you doing?” She asked, obviously distracted by Emma’s nakedness… so close to her face.
“What does it look like?” Emma asked rhetorically, lowering her pussy until she hovered mere inches from Regina’s mouth, which was open and panting. Then, showing initiative for only the second time that night, a pink tongue emerged from her luscious mouth and licked a long wet line up Emma’s slit.
“Fuck!” The blonde exclaimed as her knees almost gave way and she grabbed the headboard to balance herself.
Looking a little more confident in her abilities now, Regina gripped Emma’s hips with both hands and nosed Emma’s lower lips a little wider. Emma squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a soft tongue lave attention on her entrance. “Fuck,” she whined again. “Regina,” she choked out, having one last instruction to impart. “My clit. The little - shit - nub, at… the, ah, the top…” And then the girl found her clit and by some beautiful miracle, enveloped it in her lips and started to suck. Hard.
Emma made a tiny little whining noise and came softly, her inner muscles spasming. She rolled off Regina’s face and sat down on the bed next to her with a thump. “Why?” She asked, a little breathlessly. “Were you so nervous about that?”
“So…?” Regina asked, her lips and chin glistening with Emma’s juices and fuck, that was hot. She couldn’t resist, leaning over to suck gently on her lower lip and tasting herself.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” Emma told her, breaking away briefly. “Ever again.” She threw her leg over Regina’s and ground up against her, delving deeply into her mouth with her tongue.
Regina whined, grinding her centre down on Emma’s thigh almost shamelessly. “I love you,” she breathed, and before Emma could flinch and pull away, Regina pulled her hand over her heart. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, Emma. You’re the mother of my child. And you will always be right here, regardless.”
And then Emma uttered one word which could make or break them. “Okay.”
Characters/Pairing: Emma Swan/Regina Mills, Emma Swan/Captain Hook, Emma Swan/OFC, Snow White/Prince Charming, Belle/Rumplestiltskin, assorted other characters.
Warnings: Dub-con and graphic sex lie in wait. Be prepared.
Author’s Note: Having received a lot of negative feedback, I would just like to remind you that I know Emma is a rude, ignorant asshole. I wrote her that way on purpose. And she’s probably going to get even worse before she gets better.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time does not belong to me, nor their characters or plots. The plot of this fanfiction belongs to shikabane-mai, and the artwork she drew can be found: post/46770603575/captain-emma-swan-and-her-former- bounty-mark
Chapter 13
And the Devil to Pay
The days began to blur past Emma. One day, before the crack of dawn, she pulled Regina out of bed and ordered her up on deck. Emma spent twenty minutes showing off her well-honed racer’s dive under the pretence of teaching her some good techniques. It was only after her sixth dive that Regina told her she could already dive.
Another afternoon, after Emma had surrendered the wheel of The Bloody Blade to Grumpy, she handed Regina a sword and cleared a circle on deck for practice. To start with, Emma had her imitating various stances - defensive, mostly. Then they began to spar gently, Emma often stopping to correct the Princess’s stance or teach her the block for a certain strike.
But she wasn’t Regina’s only tutor during those long, hot afternoons. Sometimes her father would step in, taking Regina’s hand and guiding it in a furious duel against Emma’s own blade. Often, a sweaty Regina would sit down with a canteen of water and watch while she and Charming went at one another enthusiastically. After all two centuries of knowing each other, duelling to within an inch of each other’s lives was still their favourite way to bond.
Once, Emma had dropped Regina off with Red under instructions to teach her how the cannons worked. But when she had come back two hours later, both women were almost entirely stripped down from the exertion. Emma resented the lechery in Red’s eyes and had swiftly guided the Princess back upstairs.
One day, Emma had handed over the reins to her subordinates and made herself and Regina a part of the crew. She had taught her how to tie off a line, how to loose the sails and how to tell port from starboard. That evening, they had sat out on the Quarterdeck for an eternity with a bottle of rum for Emma, while the Captain showed her how to tell which way the wind was blowing and how to smell a storm on the breeze.
But it wasn’t only Regina becoming educated in her attempt to live as fully as possible before she was forced back into her gilded cage.
The Princess was determined that Emma would be literate by the time the Blade was docked at Port Wordsworth. She was pleased to learn that Emma knew some primitive letters (N, E, S and W) but had her tracing many odd characters on paper. They spent long, tricky hours going through books Belle had left behind, Regina choosing saucy passages in an affectionately misguided attempt to make it more interesting for Emma.
But evenings were the most interesting time of all.
On one of her exploratory sessions through the ship, Regina had found a lute. A blushing Bashful had admitted to being able to play and Regina had situated him on the steps to the Quarterdeck with instructions to play a melody which Emma had never heard of before.
“Hey!” She had protested as Regina had dragged her to the spot where they had been duelling and sweating with swords that afternoon. “I have been to balls before, you know!”
“One or two at most,” Regina pointed out. “And I’m willing to bet you wore a scowl and the most outrageous gown you could find, and then refused to dance.”
“How would I thieve the ladies’ pearls if I didn’t dance?” Emma enquired innocently, as Regina placed her hands at her waist.
“Don’t you dare even think about thieving mine!” Regina warned her off.
Emma naturally took the lead of the dance, guiding Regina through a series of graceful steps. She wasn’t a perfect dancer by any stretch of the imagination but she knew her way around a very simple waltz.
“Where did you learn to do this?” Regina asked, once again surprised by Emma’s proficiency in unexpected areas, especially considering she couldn’t even read or write.
“Funny story, actually,” Emma said, reminiscent. “It was the night before I had to formally return the Sceptre of Spring to the doddering old fools in the Springlands court. I had Red and Charming with me because it was, oh…” the Captain thought hard. “Twenty or so years before Snow joined the crew, so Red was still my Quartermaster.”
“Snow only joined your crew -“ Regina’s face twisted as she did the sums in her head. “28 years ago? Wow - what’s the age difference between her and Charming?”
“Two hundred and ninety seven years,” Emma admitted. “Bigger than ours, even…” Her hand dipped dangerously low down Regina’s back, brushing the globes of her ass.
Regina frowned at her. “People watching,” she cautioned her. “Continue with the story, if you please.”
“Anyway,” Emma shook her head and grinned shamelessly at her lover. “We’d just been informed that there would be a ball to celebrate the Sceptre’s return and we were the guests of honour - so naturally we would have to dance.”
Regina winced. “Let me guess - all three of you boasted two left feet.”
“Not quite,” Emma shook her head. “Charming was up all night trying to teach us the dances we would need. The ball went off without a hitch… for the most part.”
“Come on then, Swan,” Regina challenged her. “How did you ruin the occasion?”
Emma studied the Princess and tried to decide how much detail was too much detail. Eventually she decided on an explanation both concise and family-friendly. “I met a very lovely woman whose name was, I remember, Lady Hermione of Bullcross. She was in an arranged marriage and unhappy about it, but before I could do more than flirt, her husband turned up. Well, he was a nasty bastard and wanted to duel me to the death… ”
The Princess’s eyes widened perceptibly. “Who won?” She demanded.
Shrugging, Emma twirled her round. “It was a draw. Though I did extract three cows, a sword and a contract of marriage to the next female heir to Bullcross… though I doubt I’ll ever have cause to use the latter, considering I managed to seduce the Princess of Springlands herself.”
Regina giggled. She pulled the Captain in closer than was strictly appropriate. “So you managed to stay out of our jail on that occasion, then? Are you a criminal anywhere else?”
“I’m wanted in two different lands,” Emma murmured. “And not for my body. For theft and conspiring to overthrow the monarchy, respectively.”
“Conspiring to overthrow the monarchy?” Regina asked inquisitively. “Should I be worried?”
Emma let out a bark of laughter. “It was a bullshit charge. Our lovely friend Queen Maleficent of Autumnlands tried to hire me to find Prince Thomas, who by all accounts went into hiding when the Queen killed his brother. I refused; she fabricated the worst charge she could conceive of - treason.”
“How did you escape?” The Princess questioned breathily.
But just then, the music grounded to a halt and Emma drew back to kiss her hand. “I’ll tell you one day,” she promised. The Captain withdrew from the deck, where various pirates had begun to dance to the lively jig that Bashful struck up.
“Emma!” Regina called after her, but the Captain merely slid through a door and disappeared. Once on the other side, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Emma had been doing her very best to make Regina’s numbered days enjoyable and thrilling - so they would last her perhaps all her life. But all the while, what she had said to Emma that night when she had first fucked the Princess… Emma couldn’t seem to forget it. And whenever she was around Regina, she felt oddly stifled and yet… happy.
Her fist hit the wall with a thump as the Captain gnashed her teeth in frustration. She didn’t want the Princess’s love and certainly hadn’t done anything to deserve it. What if Regina expected her to give up her bounty, change her mind so that the two of them could sail the seas together… forever. Whimpering, Emma slid down the wall so she could duck her head between her legs in shame.
The worst of it all, though - was that Emma wanted to. She wanted to be nauseatingly in love and say “don’t worry, darling… I won’t let them take you away from me.” She wanted tales written of the dread pirate Emma Swan falling under the spell of the beautiful Princess Regina and how they lived their fairytale existence somewhere out there on the seven seas.
She punched the wall again and pain shot through her wrist. She wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t submit. She was Emma Swan, for fuck’s sake; she kept her own parents at arm’s length and stole from the rich to give to her crew. She had never ever needed anybody, not since Bae, and Princess Regina was not going to change that.
Satisfied that her resolve would hold (at least for now, a little voice whispered), Emma got up off the floor and sat at the desk of the little annex she had locked herself away in. It had been Belle’s map room, previously. But as her Navigator was no longer with them, the task of plotting a route had fallen to Emma… and it had been a long time since she had been forced to do such a thing. She had forgotten how much illiteracy impeded the process of route-plotting and, though Regina’s lessons were helping, Emma couldn’t hope to make progress quickly.
Unrolling the first of the maps, she settled in for a long night.
An hour in, the door was flung open. It was a very drunk, unsteady Grumpy, who pointed at her with his rum tankard. Red stood behind him, looking no less inebriated, but somehow managing to carry a whole stack of flagons and skins.
“You!” Grumpy shakily indicated her. “Never have no fun no more!”
He shut the door behind Red, who dumped both the pile of receptacles and herself on the floor. Grumpy fell to the ground next to her, feeding greedily on his tankard.
“Cut loose, Capt’n,” Red slurred. “Maps can wait. ‘Til sunrise.”
Emma cocked an eyebrow at both of them. “If I drink as much as you two obviously intend me too, I’ll be more preoccupied with how to cut off my own head at sunrise.” Nevertheless, she seated herself next to Red and helped herself to a skin.
What was it she had told Regina about her drinking, that night when she had her chained to the railings… still an untrustworthy, manipulative captive? Oblivion is always better than pain. It was ironic; pain then was the loss of love - the loss of Bae and her son. Pain now was living with love, knowing that she would break the heart of an innocent.
But would it be any better? Emma asked herself. If I let her think that I love her?
No… she decided. The truth hurts… but living a lie would hurt a lot more.
And so Emma began to down her first skin of the night, her only intent to erase the pain of indecision from her mind.
There was a knock on the door that cut through the indigo-coloured haze in Emma’s mind. She tried to stumble to her feet, but could only manage to get on to her knees. Slowly she made her way over to the doorway and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “come in” to her toxic, jumbled brain.
The door slid open a crack and Regina’s tan face, pale in only the moonlight, looked down at her. Emma couldn’t see her expression from on her knees, but even in her animalistic state could deduce that the Princess was unhappy with her.
“Hey,” she smiled up at her from the floor, going for charming or seductive, whilst all the time knowing she must be a sight for sore eyes.
Regina said nothing, but crouched down to put an arm around her torso and hook her wrist under Emma’s left armpit. Then she hoisted her to her feet, which - much to Emma’s surprise - she could still feel. And still, the Princess was silent as she helped her back up on deck, across it and back down a set of stairs into her bedchamber.
Indeed, her first words were merely “drink some water.” She held out a full canister of the liquid, which Emma batted to one side. It spilled all over the floor and Regina sighed in exasperation. “What is wrong with you?” She demanded.
“What?” Emma mocked. “Don’t love me when I’m drunk?”
Regina noticeably recoiled and the Captain flopped down on her bedspread, trying to crawl up to where soft pillows were, but not having much success.
“Why are you doing this?” The Princess asked, so quietly Emma could barely even catch the words. She recalled the girl had seen her this drunk before, after Belle had nearly died because of her. Emma suspected that that evening, she had been very flirtatious rather than very rude and the change was a bit of a shock for Regina. Sighing, she rolled over onto her back.
“I care about you,” Emma informed her, unable to control the flow of words from her mouth. “Doesn’t mean I love you. Or that I’ll save you. ‘Cos I won’t.”
Regina looked down at her, but somehow the Captain still held all the power in this exchange. “I know,” the girl informed her, shy as a mouse. “I don’t expect -“
“Don’t you?” Emma asked her thickly, shuffling along to the end of the bed and meeting Regina’s eyes. “Do you know that when you’re married I won’t think about you? Won’t care about you? You may pop out a couple of infants and I’ll hear about it on my travels and remember those nights I spent fucking the Queen of Winterlands -“
Crack. Emma had felt the sting of the slap on her cheek... hard.
“Stop,” Regina pleaded. Her hands were combing through Emma’s hair and she pressed a desperate kiss to her mouth. “Please… just stop.”
“Why?” Emma taunted her. “Because you love me?”
Regina’s hands seemed to act of their own accord, smacking Emma’s shoulders and pushing her back down on the bedspread. “Shut up!” She yelled, covering the Captain’s body with her own. “Shut up,” she pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut.
“You don’t want to hear my words?” Emma enquired, breathing alcohol into Regina’s face. “Get out!”
Instead, she found her chest suddenly bared to the Princess’s eyes as the girl ripped her shirt open. Then just as quickly, her breeches were torn from her legs and Regina was pressing against her crotch, hard. “Ouch!” Emma yelped, trying to scramble back from her touch but finding herself pinned. Then three fingers, with no warning whatsoever, sank into her body and started pounding at her core.
“Stop,” Emma ordered the Princess. “Regina! Stop!”
“Don’t worry, Captain,” the girl growled back. “I’m sure a dirty whore like you has had it much rougher than this.”
Then with a startling and clarifying realisation, Emma realised what was going on. Role reversal. Her own words had put Regina back in a place of powerlessness and the alcohol on her breath, which had previously triggered a flashback had this time triggered… this. Did Regina even realise what she was doing? Was this what it had been like for the newly-engaged scared little girl who had been forced to entertain a King in his bedchamber?
If Emma had been a naïve, virginal seventeen-year-old, what Regina was doing now probably would have terrified her too. But she wasn’t, she was approaching her 276th birthday and Regina was right, she had done it much rougher than this. And she knew how to find pleasure in it, unlike a seventeen-year-old would.
Her pale hand reached up to wind itself harshly into the Princess’s hair and she brought her head down for a kiss. Regina’s fingers were chafing her pussy raw, so Emma reached down between their bodies so she could make it a little less painful by circling and stroking her clit. Gradually, between her own ministrations and the way Regina sucked on her tongue, the penetration felt less bluntly painful.
Emma could pinpoint the exact moment Regina realised who she was and what she was doing because she stopped kissing Emma and lost her balance, falling on the bedspread next to her. All of her fingers were suddenly withdrawn from her channel and Emma suddenly felt rather empty. Then the Princess began to sob and she tried to forget her own arousal, placing a callused hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Regina-“
“Don’t touch me!” The girl shrieked as she curled herself into the foetal position. “I - I tried to…” she spluttered.
“Regina,” Emma placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. “Look at me.”
The Princess refused, curling herself into an even tighter ball, if that was even possible and let out a shaky sob. “Regina,” Emma tried again. “I love you.”
“No you don’t,” the girl replied, her voice muffled in her thighs. “If you loved me, we wouldn’t still be sailing towards Port Wordsworth.”
Emma let out a long, frustrated sigh and shook the Princess’s shoulders, hard. “I forgive you!” She burst out and Regina unfurled herself, with wide eyes.
“Don’t forgive me!” Regina begged her, still sobbing with guilt. Emma wrapped her arms around the Princess’s torso and lay on her side, holding her until she cried herself out and fell into a fitful sleep.
Emma traced a finger along the curve of her shoulder. When had life become so messy? A month ago she had been just another average pirate. A longer lifespan than most, perhaps, but a looter, smuggler, killer…
She slowly withdrew her arm from where she had pulled Regina into her form and slipped out from under the sheets and blankets. She padded across the wooden floor, stopping only to grab her brown overcoat from where she had dropped it on the floor. Emma stuffed her arms through the sleeves and pulled it around her mostly naked form - Regina had ripped the shirt from her body and her breeches had been tossed somewhere unknown.
She shuffled up the steps towards the deck, keen to feel the sobering cold night air on her face. On deck, in solitude, everything felt simpler. Emma climbed the stairs to the Quarterdeck, but stopped suddenly, hearing the sound of voices arguing softly.
It was Charming and Snow. Her father, she remembered, was on shift for manning the wheel. But what was her step-mother doing there in the wee hours? Emma strained her ears, trying to listen in on their debate, which wasn’t too hard as the volume of their voices was increasing by the second.
“You’re insane!” Snow’s voice scoffed. It was a mockingly derisive statement and it was so unlike her step-mother that Emma had to restrain herself from checking it was actually her, and not some impersonator.
Charming interrupted. “I’m not insane, sweetheart. I’m sick of being pursued by my father and the Nevic Navy buffoons. Don’t forget - we have Henry to think of now, too.” Emma’s brow furrowed - why did they have to think of Henry? As his mother, wasn’t that her job?
“You are not thinking of Henry!” Snow exclaimed. “If we do as you so ludicrously suggest, there’s a good chance we will both be killed and then what will that boy have left? Only Emma and God knows who she’ll choose to help her look after him! Henry will stay on board this very ship forever and learn to steal, pillage and murder!”
Emma saw red, and yet still managed to stay down. Her own parents thought she was incapable of caring for a child? And what the hell was Charming’s plan?
“But if we succeed - !”
“If we succeed,” Snow conceded. “It’ll be brilliant. Fantastic. Perfect, even. You’ll be King David I of Neverland and I’ll be -“
“Queen Mary I,” Charming said firmly. “The only rightful heir to the throne of Winterlands.”
Emma gaped at the open air. They weren’t seriously considering… did her parents want to invade and take over Neverland?
Snow laughed from the Quarterdeck. “David!” She exclaimed, which was how they all knew he was in trouble. David was Charming’s real name, which was only very rarely heard on board. “I am not, nor will I ever be the rightful heir to the throne of Winterlands. I am illegitimate! Just as Emma and Henry will never be in line to the throne of Neverland… because they are also illegitimate! You’re living in a delusion that we’re all royalty and deserve to be living in grandeur!”
Emma’s head sank to her knees. So that was what the fight was really about. Although all three of them (Charming, Snow and Emma) had royal blood, only Charming knew what it was like to actually be a royal. He had been the beloved Prince of his land for seventy years before he had fathered Emma and had run away with half the royal coffers to become a pirate.
Neither Snow nor Emma had been so lucky. Snow’s father was King Leopold of Winterlands, Regina’s fiancé and by most accounts, a nice man. Emma, knowing how he had refused any kind of relationship with Snow and how he had raped Regina, was of the opposite opinion. He had cast Snow (or Mary-Margaret then) out from his family as soon as she was born and she had joined Emma’s crew at the first opportunity.
So Snow was right. Charming was delusional. None of them deserved luxury, much less a crown.
“Charming,” Snow said softly, after long moments of silence. “Somebody’s listening in.”
In a brief burst of panic-fuelled adrenaline, Emma slid silently off the side of the stairs to the Quarterdeck and curled herself up in a ball in the shadows. Charming stomped past with his usual graceful subtlety.
Emma sat there, drowning in her own thoughts and concerns. Her primary concern was for the mental faculties of her father; how could he be so irrational to think that an invasion of Neverland would be a good plan? But what really hurt deep down was Snow implying that Emma would be a bad parent to Henry. Granted, she knew she wasn’t the best role model on the seven seas… but neither were Snow nor Charming! They all killed, looted, fucked… her father and step-mother just happened to be married in the meantime.
Hearing no more sound from the Quarterdeck and hoping she was safe to move, Emma slid down the steps and into her chambers. Since the door had been blown off by the Nevic Navy, she had put up a sheet to protect her privacy. In this case it was a blessing, considering a door would’ve creaked and given away to Snow and Charming that she had been listening intently to their argument.
Emma got up off the floor and dusted off her brown coat as she re-entered her own chambers. She hadn’t been prepared for crouching in dusty corners whilst eavesdropping and was shivering as she dropped the coat to the floor. Her naked form bared once more, she slid under the covers and lay next to her lover. Regina was warm but rather than doing the instinctual thing and wriggling away from Emma’s ice-cold body, she snuggled in so she was the little spoon, warming all of the Captain’s limbs.
“Where did you go?” The Princess asked sleepily.
Emma contemplated the long strands of brunette hair spread across her pillows, the warmth of their shared body heat and the flutter of fondness in her heart for the mother of her child. Then she did something quite out of character. Emma leaned in to kiss Regina on the forehead - an unnecessary display of affection.
“Just for some fresh air,” Emma reassured her. “Don’t worry.”
Then she wrapped her arm back around her lover and wondered why, suddenly, it felt like the world had stopped spinning around them… if only for a moment.
Of course, that feeling lasted only until Emma fell asleep. She dreamt of blood, and betrayal; her son being clutched in her parents’ dead hands and Regina, pinned beneath King Leopold and utterly helpless. And Emma in the middle of it all, the deciding factor in all of their fates and yet discarded, masked… unable to make a decision.
She awoke with a start, breathing hard and felt a cool, soft hand caressing her forehead. “Are you okay?” Regina asked her quietly, propped up on one elbow.
Emma inhaled, long and slow, then exhaled calmly. Trying to regulate her breathing was the simplest thing to focus on, she knew. It kept at bay the horrors her mind had created for her to see in her dreams. “I’m fine,” she eventually replied to her lover’s question. She didn’t describe what she had seen or experienced. Opinion was divided on whether past events should be shared and relived or shut up in a box and locked away forever. Emma belonged to the latter camp, and so said nothing.
The Captain liked to think that Regina had learned by now that she wasn’t the type to sniffle and share her nightmares. But of course the girl was stubborn and inquisitive by nature. “What were you dreaming about?” She asked softly, still stroking sweaty strands of hair from Emma’s forehead.
The blonde rolled over onto her side so she wouldn’t have to look at her. “My diseased mind amuses itself by creating images that would turn a pure soul black and erode what little is left of my own.”
There was a long pause from Regina’s side of the bed. “That sounds… tiring.”
And then suddenly there was a warm body at her back and an arm curved around her own waist. Emma frowned. She, by her very nature, was absolutely not a little spoon and she was about to challenge Regina when she realised that… actually, she was rather comfortable.
Emma wouldn’t truly submit to her contentedness by doing something as foolish as kissing Regina’s palm or interlacing their fingers. But she did nestle herself firmly into the Princess. If she was offering her body as a human pillow, then who was Emma to refuse such hospitality?
“Regina,” she said softly. “About earlier on…”
“Please let’s not talk about it,” Regina pleaded. “I really am -“
“Sorry, I know,” Emma finished for her. “But it was my fault really, for getting so drunk. And I only got drunk because I have to do the navigation now, as well as be the Captain. So I was wondering, as you are so well educated… would you like to be my new navigator?”
Emma could almost hear Regina smirking behind her and she was about to re-think all this little spoon business when the Princess spoke. “Is that your roundabout way of asking me to join your crew?”
“Maybe,” Emma told her, being deliberately evasive. Remember, she chided herself, this is all temporary. Don’t get attached.
Regina’s thumb caressed her taut stomach. “What will you do once I am gone?”
“I hope,” Emma admitted. “That Belle will be back with us by then, otherwise I’m going to fucking crumble under the burden of both captaincy and navigation.”
“Why don’t you just ask somebody else to do it?” Regina asked curiously. “You’ve proven you don’t have to be literate to do it.”
Emma considered her question. Why hadn’t she just delegated the role to somebody else? In truth, perhaps she had just been seeking an excuse to spend less time with Regina, who proclaimed to love her.
“Navigation requires both education and competence,” Emma told her eventually. “Nobody else on board fits the bill, and I know I can just about get by.” She covered Regina’s hand on her belly with her own. “You, on the other hand, will excel.”
“Now you’re just trying to sweet-talk me,” Regina teased hesitantly. “I’ve told you, Emma. I don’t know -“ she paused, and the Captain knew she was flushing with embarrassment. “I don’t know how. And now I’m not sure… if I can get past what I did to you. Earlier.”
Emma rubbed her thumb along the line of Regina’s forefinger and rolled over until the two of them were nose-to-nose and unusually intimate. “And I’ve told you,” Emma met their lips briefly. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just like learning to swim or sword-fight. And as for earlier, you were right,” she admitted. “I’ve had it much rougher. So it really didn’t bother me.” She pecked her lips again. “I wanted it. I wanted you… so much. And I still do.”
Regina tucked her head beneath her chin, partially, Emma suspected, so she wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. When she eventually spoke again, the Captain could hear the mortification in her tone; her desire to please Emma was conflicting with her staunch upbringing. “If I… will you… help?”
Emma ducked her head to kiss her lover again… “Of course.”
She let their tongues play together, sucking Regina’s gently into her mouth to relax her, as though she was going to be the one taking the lead. She wasn’t, of course, but figured that simulating their past experiences together to start with couldn’t hurt.
It seemed to work well; Regina’s hands interwove with her golden locks. Emma stretched her head back, hoping the Princess would take the hint and move her intentions down the pale column of her throat. She didn’t. Emma sighed. This might be harder than originally imagined.
She broke their kiss and locked eyes with the girl. This whole relationship, whatever the hell it was, was harder than originally imagined. Enemies… captive and captor… parents… friends… lovers… Emma wanted nothing more than to throw the Princess off the ship before they got even more intertwined than they already were. But she knew she couldn’t because she could admit, with gritted teeth, that she cared for the girl.
So instead of yelling, or firmly directing, or losing her patience…. Emma took on the sort of personality that would be able to help Regina through this. Would be able to actually care for her, not just say that she did. She interlaced their fingers together, and dragged their joined hands slowly down over the top of her sternum and onto the incline of her right breast.
Emma unfolded Regina’s hand like a flower and pressed it against her, creating delicious friction against her nipple. She pulled the Princess’s thumb over her tight nub and rubbed it softly, until she was sure that Regina would continue without her help. Slowly, Emma let her own hand drop to her side, until her lover was fondling her right breast without any aid. “The left, too,” she said hoarsely.
Regina’s tan hand reached for her left nipple and then, without any prompting, began to roll it very gently between her thumb and forefinger. Taken by surprise, Emma let out a gasp and cursed herself when the Princess immediately halted all action. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” She asked timidly.
“Fuck, no, Regina…” Emma groaned. “If I can take three fingers without preparation, this is a fucking cakewalk.” As if to accentuate her point, she thrust her chest up into the girl’s hand until she got the hint to keep going before Emma did something desperate like died where she was lying.
As the Princess began to roll her nipple again hesitantly, Emma tried to quell natural impatience. But she didn’t think it was humanly possible to come at such a slow pace. Taking Regina by complete surprise, she rolled the two of them over until she was on top.
“I thought - “ Regina started but Emma pressed a finger to her lips.
“If you were trying to kill me,” Emma began. “From slow burn arousal… it was a nice attempt.” And with that, she began to move up Regina’s body until her knees were sandwiched either side of her head.
“What are you doing?” She asked, obviously distracted by Emma’s nakedness… so close to her face.
“What does it look like?” Emma asked rhetorically, lowering her pussy until she hovered mere inches from Regina’s mouth, which was open and panting. Then, showing initiative for only the second time that night, a pink tongue emerged from her luscious mouth and licked a long wet line up Emma’s slit.
“Fuck!” The blonde exclaimed as her knees almost gave way and she grabbed the headboard to balance herself.
Looking a little more confident in her abilities now, Regina gripped Emma’s hips with both hands and nosed Emma’s lower lips a little wider. Emma squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a soft tongue lave attention on her entrance. “Fuck,” she whined again. “Regina,” she choked out, having one last instruction to impart. “My clit. The little - shit - nub, at… the, ah, the top…” And then the girl found her clit and by some beautiful miracle, enveloped it in her lips and started to suck. Hard.
Emma made a tiny little whining noise and came softly, her inner muscles spasming. She rolled off Regina’s face and sat down on the bed next to her with a thump. “Why?” She asked, a little breathlessly. “Were you so nervous about that?”
“So…?” Regina asked, her lips and chin glistening with Emma’s juices and fuck, that was hot. She couldn’t resist, leaning over to suck gently on her lower lip and tasting herself.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” Emma told her, breaking away briefly. “Ever again.” She threw her leg over Regina’s and ground up against her, delving deeply into her mouth with her tongue.
Regina whined, grinding her centre down on Emma’s thigh almost shamelessly. “I love you,” she breathed, and before Emma could flinch and pull away, Regina pulled her hand over her heart. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, Emma. You’re the mother of my child. And you will always be right here, regardless.”
And then Emma uttered one word which could make or break them. “Okay.”