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After dark it's easier to believe Storybrooke is a fairy tale. The streetlights are gentle and blue, like the good fairy in countless bedtime stories. Every house looks like Thomas Kinkade designed the exteriors around Norman Rockwell scenes. The only people out are people out on family walks, leading Spot or Rover on long leashes. People call out to one another, stopping to talk about their days before continuing on.
At the mayor's house, the peace is shattered by the sound of a palm meeting cheek. Anger flares, anger that has been held in check since her arrival in this fucking town, and Emma lashes out in response. Somehow a mission to keep the peace, however fragile, had denigrated into slapping Regina across the face. Regina is obviously stunned by the blow, more that Emma would dare strike her than any real pain. She lashes out again and Emma's cheek stings a second time.
Tears rise in Emma's eyes, but she's determined not to shed them. She gave up her son, gave up Henry, in the hopes he would have a better life. And this? This is where he ends up? She returns Regina's slap so that they're even, and then she closes her hands around the bitch mayor's throat and squeezes.
Regina slaps her hands away before Emma can make the choice to stop choking her. Emma grunts as Regina pounces on her and they stumble, trip, twist and hit the couch. Emma grunts as Regina's weight lands on top of her, the air is forced from her lungs, and then their lips meet in a ferocious, angry kiss.
Emma beats on Regina's shoulders with her fists, but Regina presses on. Just like Emma had pressed on in Regina's office, that "one time mistake" which looked an awful lot like this. Regina's hands are in her hair now, and Emma thrusts her tongue into Regina's mouth. Sharp teeth nip at it, and Emma moans in protest as she bends her arm across her chest. She pushes up with her elbow and Regina grunts, retreats, and spreads her legs. Her skirt rises up as she sits on Emma's lap, just enough that Emma can almost see her underwear. Emma bucks up against Regina, and Regina puts her arm around Emma's waist and pulls her close.
Emma grinds against her, the seam of her jeans pressing against her underwear in an amazing duet of friction that sends electrical currents down her legs to her toes. She wishes she had taken her boots off, but that's far too cozy for Regina Mills' home. This is a battle, and the snap of her jeans opening? That's her armor being removed. Her hand traces the curve of Regina's neck and shoulder, grips her collar, and tears. The material protests, but then a button pops and the material is sagging open to reveal a La Perla brassiere.
"Bitch." Regina is breathless, red-faced, her body rocking back and forth with the force of her exhalations. Her lips puff out with each breath and Emma meets her stare without blinking. She sits up and their lips smash together as her jeans are tugged lower on her hips. Emma bites Regina's bottom lip, just like Regina bit hers in the office. Regina growls, and it's not exactly an angry or disapproving sound.
Emma pulls again, and more buttons are separated from the shirt. Regina sits up long enough to shed the shirt. Emma's back is flat on the couch, her legs pinned between Regina's thighs, and she can't help but feel submissive at the moment. Regina is breathing heavy, her breasts rising and falling as she smiles... no, sneers... down at her. Well, that makes sense. If Henry is right, then the "Evil Queen" hates Snow White. And what better way to humiliate Snow than by fucking her daughter?
"Take off your shirt."
Emma pushes herself up on her elbows. "Fuck you."
Regina leans forward, their noses nearly touching. "Oh, I intend to." She grabs the shirt with both hands, Emma's faithful tank top, and she pulls. The two halves separate with a noisy rip, and Regina bows to kiss her way down the center of Emma's chest, tongue wild on the curves of her breasts. She teases Emma's nipples through her bra - Emma's eyes roll back in her head, fuck it's been a long time - and Emma slides her hands down to the curve of Regina's ass.
Regina bites Emma's nipple through her bra.
Emma simply reacts. Her hand rises and falls without conscious thought, and she smacks Regina's ass with a solid 'thwap.' Regina sucks in a breath and, despite the stinging in her palm, Emma purposefully does it again. 'Thwap,' and Regina stiffens against her. She rises, cups Emma's face in her hands, and narrows her eyes.
"Naughty girl..."
Thwap!
Regina's eyes close and her upper lip curls. Thwap. Thwap. She switches to the other cheek and Regina squirms in her lap. God, the feeling is delicious, and it presses Regina's thigh harder against the crotch of Emma's jeans. Emma rocks and rubs against the tight muscle, pretends she can hear the nylons against the flesh of Regina's skin, and holds tight to her. She fucks herself against Regina's thigh, taking the pressure instead of letting it be given to her.
When she looks again, the expensive lingerie is gone. Regina's nipples are dark pink and erect (like poisoned apples) and Emma fights the urge to sit up and take one into her mouth. She grinds against Regina's leg, and Regina lifts her skirt and pushes three fingers into underwear that matches the now-missing bra.
"That's right," Emma sighs. "Touch yourself for me."
Regina rolls her head back, exposing her throat as she laughs. "Oh-ho, you bitch..."
"Takes one to know one."
"Your threats are getting less witty."
"I'm a little... ah-ha... di-distracted."
Regina arches a regal eyebrow and leans back. She settles her weight on the knee between Emma's leg and Emma rides her. Emma digs her fingers into Regina's ass and buries her heels in the cushion. Between the top of her head and the heels of her feet, her body hovers. She closes her eyes, and Regina takes that as an excuse to start moaning. Neither of them is pretending to be unaffected now; neither of them would buy the ruse. Regina's hand moves around Emma's waist like a snake, and her fingers splay in the warmth of the small of Emma's back, pulling her forward.
Emma comes first. She tries to fight it, and then tries to hide it, but Regina chuckles knowingly and bows her head. They're kissing, but it's as much a battle as everything else they've done. Regina's tongue slides across Emma's teeth twice before Emma lets it in, and she sucks it hungrily as Regina comes under the dexterous attention of her own fingers. She bucks once, twice, and then she settles against Emma's hip.
"You owe me a shirt," Regina says. She sweeps her hair out of her face with a toss of her head.
Emma looks down at the remnants of her tank top. "Call it even?"
"Don't those things come seven to a bag? It's hardly even."
"A shirt is a shirt." Emma slithers away, and Regina allows her to get off the couch. They stand with their backs to each other, covering up as best they can. Emma tucks her hair behind her ear and looks in the mirror. She can see Regina behind her, head turned so that her profile is visible. Emma knows this will happen again, and she can see that Regina knows it as well. They're both drawn to it, already addicted. So which of them has the power? Both? Neither?
"There's a tailor in town. You can keep the shirt Henry gave you until your... tank top... is mended."
"Mended? I'll just toss it and get a new one."
"You'd be surprised what the tailors in this town can do. Give them a try."
Emma shrugs and picks up the shirt, the impetus for her visit, and puts it on. When she turns around, Regina has put on a blazer. She did the final button and appeared all business. She smoothes the material against her stomach and looks at Emma as if surprised to see her still in the room. She sneers.
"Get out of my house."
"Gladly."
Emma walks out of the house and slams the door. As she leaves the yard, she looks back and sees the living room curtain falling back into place. Storybrooke may have a cheery façade, but the core is rotten. She can smell it. She knows Henry isn't right because he can't be right. But that aside, there is definitely something wrong with this town, and it starts with the mayor. Emma is determined to stay until she knows exactly what that is. At the moment she's only certain of one thing.
There's nothing fairy tale about this town.