In the Velvet Darkness, Chapter 6

Previously: Chapter 5 [X]

The floor, the fight, the fuck thing, the food.
Rated X.

* * * * *

Sunday Afternoon

In four attempts to get to the bedroom, they had so far made it to the hallway. The first time, Regina had stood up and extended her hand to Emma, but Emma had just pulled her down onto the couch again. The second time, Emma had swung by the kitchen to get some water and Regina had tackled her against the fridge and forced her up onto the kitchen island. The third time was really a continuation of the second, caused mostly by Regina making a surprisingly risqué joke about having eaten Emma out in the kitchen. And the fourth time was pretty much because Regina was naked and the thirty extra feet to get through the bedroom door and onto the bed seemed like too much wasted time when the hardwood floor was just fine by Emma and she was willing to be the one risking splinters in her backside.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” Regina said, although she made no effort to move from her position splayed across Emma.

“I’m the one on the floor. At least you have me as a mattress.” Emma turned her head and pressed a kiss to Regina’s temple, feeling Regina nuzzle her neck in reply.

“Also, we should probably be back out there, looking for clues.”

Yeah, they probably should, but naked Regina lying on top of her versus any other situation in the world was not even a close call. Her hand was resting on Regina Mills’ ass. On her naked ass. And that was Regina Mills’ hand—her actual real-life hand—possessively cupping Emma’s breast. And they’d had sex, like, five times already. Maybe six, but did you count it as one or two if you both came together? And, shit, what was the question again?

“Hmmm.” She hoped that was non-specific enough to be taken as an answer to whatever Regina had said.

“At the very least, we should be trying to work out who would wish you gone.”

“Uh-huh.” Emma wrapped her free arm around Regina’s waist. Maybe a quick nap first to regain her strength. It had been several years since she’d had this much sex in such a short period of time and she’d hardly slept the previous night for thinking about their kiss, and surely Regina wouldn’t object if she just shut her eyes for ten or fifteen minutes? Sleeping on the floor wouldn’t be so bad. It was hardly the first time she’d done it, and Regina made an excellent blanket, all soft and warm and naked.

“You’re not really listening to me, are you?”

“I’m listening. Clues, suspects.” She grunted. “Miss Scarlett in the library with the lead pipe.”

“This is not some kind of game.”

Regina slid off her a little and propped herself up on her elbow, but Emma noted that the hand on her breast didn’t move. She looked at her and, Jesus, Regina was even more beautiful than usual, all mussed and tousled and sated. And Emma had done that. Emma had made her come, screaming her name and swearing like a longshoreman. And, hell if that wasn’t the proudest moment of her life to date because Emma Swan didn’t get to be with a woman like Regina Mills, who was so far out of her league that it was ridiculous.

“You are so fucking gorgeous.”

Regina blushed. “Yes, well, we should still think about going back out on patrol.”

“I guess.” She shut her eyes, still contemplating a quick nap.

“Emma! No sleeping.”

“Not sleeping.” She wrapped both arms around Regina’s waist and pulled her back on top of her. “Just resting.” She shifted Regina until their bodies were aligned perfectly again, although so far they hadn’t found a position which wasn’t amazing in some way.

“The sooner we go, the sooner we can come home again.”

Emma opened one eye. That sounded suspiciously like a bribe. Regina was moving against her, rising onto outstretched arms placed either side of Emma’s head, and her lips were forming an easy grin which Emma was fast associating with the promise of exquisite pleasure to follow. As she moved over her, Regina’s nipples slid across Emma’s cooling skin, which distracted her from the whole ‘this is some kind of trick’ thing. And then Regina’s mouth settled over hers, and she moaned loudly because she could taste herself on Regina’s lips and tongue. Fuck, that was so hot. Regina kissing her was hot enough, but she could taste both of them in that kiss, Regina on her lips and herself on Regina’s, and just, fuck. Regina’s teeth were playing with her bottom lip while their bodies were starting to move against each other again, a slow, languid pressure.

And then it all stopped abruptly as Regina pushed herself off Emma and up into a standing position. Emma scowled.

“Hey, come back here. I was enjoying that.”

“Think of it as an incentive to patrol quickly.” Regina was moving around the room, retrieving articles of clothing. Emma sat up, hugging her knees to her chest and just watched. Regina moved without even a hint of self-consciousness and she was magnificent.

“You think we should check out the barrier again, see if we’ve pushed it open some more?”

Regina turned, her eyes narrowing, a fleeting moment of sadness passing across her face. “It won’t have.”

Emma sighed. “It might.” She dropped her chin to rest on her knees. She thought that they loved each other, but maybe she was the only one who was in love. “I wish it could.”

Regina paused in her dressing and moved to stand next to her, her hand cupping Emma’s cheek.

“Oh, Emma. You can’t make a wish to change the basic laws of magic.”

“No?”

Regina dropped to one knee in front of her, pulling Emma’s face upwards. And it wasn’t fair that she looked so good wearing nothing more than her underwear and a cashmere sweater. Regina was a goddess, whether clothed or not, but Emma just felt exposed and unworthy in her naked state.

“A kiss can only break a curse and, even then, only if it’s written into the curse. It cannot break a wish spell. And you cannot wish for a wish spell to be broken. That would somewhat defeat the point of casting it, after all.”

“Oh.”

“Believe me, if anyone’s kiss could break a spell, it would be yours.” Regina stroked her knuckles across Emma’s cheek.

Well, maybe that wasn’t so bad. It was definitely better than being told that her love wasn’t enough. Emma really hoped that, after everything was over, they would be able to keep what they’d found together, because she was already addicted to the soft, tender looks Regina had been giving her, and she didn’t think she could go back to not having that every day of her life.

“So how do we break a wish spell?”

“We don’t. It ends when it’s supposed to end, according to time limits set by the caster.”

“What happened to all spells have a thread and we just need to find it and pull it? Isn’t that what you told me the other day?”

“That was when I assumed that it was a simple spell. This is something altogether different.”

“So why the hell are we even wasting our time going out at all, if we can’t do anything to change the spell?” Emma shrugged, knowing she sounded like a petulant teen, but all she really wanted to do was spend the rest of their time in Fake Storybrooke in bed with Regina, assuming they ever made it to a bed at some point.

“Because we’re much more likely to find out who cast this here than at home, when there are no traces of the spell left.” She pressed a chaste kiss to Emma’s forehead. “Come on, get dressed and we’ll be back before you even know it.”

“Don’t want to.”

Regina stood up and twirled her fingers, immediately causing Emma to be dressed. Although most of her clothes were from earlier, she was wearing a charcoal sweater she’d never seen before, but which fitted her perfectly.

At Emma’s confused frown, Regina said, “I was going to give it to you for Christmas. But we can’t have you freezing to death out there, can we?” She held her hand out to help Emma from the floor.

Man, she really hadn’t done anything remotely good enough in her life to deserve everything that Regina gave her. She allowed Regina to help her up, and she used their linked hands to pull the other woman into a hug, burying her face in Regina’s neck. She then remembered that Regina was only partially dressed, so dropped her hands to cup her ass.

“Emma.”

“What? My hand slipped.”

“Both your hands?” Regina was smiling against her neck and not pulling back, so she obviously didn’t mind that much.

“They have a mind of their own.” Emma gave another squeeze, just because she could, and that earned her a very half-hearted slap on the shoulder.

+

The barrier looked exactly as it had been before their extended break. The rip hadn’t got any larger. Both of them went as close as they dared, but agreed that there was nothing to see. The noise, however, was appreciably louder, now much more like an electrified fence rather than the buzzing of insects.

“Time is definitely running out,” Regina said.

“How can you be so sure?” Emma reached out and wrapped her arm around Regina’s waist, pulling her back into her. She figured she should try extra hard to keep her hands to herself, but Regina just being Regina made the desire to touch overwhelming, so she decided not to restrain herself.

“The noise.” Regina leaned back against Emma. “We should go into town. I don’t think there’s anything more to be learned out here.”

“Where should we go? It’s not like we know anything more than we did before, and we’ve not found anything at all so far.”

Regina paused for a fraction too long before saying, “There are places we haven’t tried yet.”

“You know something.” Emma tightened her hold, so that Regina couldn’t pull away, literally or figuratively.

“No.” This time, the answer came too quickly.

“Tell me.”

Regina drew her finger over Emma’s forearm until she reached Emma’s hand, tugging it into her own. Their fingers entwined naturally.

“We should try the B&B.”

“The B&B? You think Granny or Ruby had something to do with this?” Emma squeezed her fingers around Regina’s. How could holding someone’s hand feel so good, so perfectly right?

“Not them.” Regina’s body tightened, as if bracing herself.

“But then, who do you—” Emma ground to a halt, as she realised that the B&B had only one long-term resident.

She let her head drop to Regina’s shoulder and exhaled slowly. The hot sting behind her eyes was not a good sign. And she really hated crying. She hated crying more than anything in the world, because tough kids who didn’t need anyone or anything except themselves—and Henry and Regina, her mind added—didn’t show their emotions by crying. Crying was for the weak kids, the ones who got picked on and teased and had their heads flushed down the toilet bowl. Crying was for the kids who wouldn’t make it out of the system in one piece.

“Killian,” she said, not really needing it confirmed, because Regina’s body language was telling her everything she needed to know.

“It’s a possibility, yes.” Regina ran her fingers over the back of Emma’s hand, another gesture to which she was becoming far too attached. “I considered Gold, of course, but his shop has no resonance. The complete lack of fairy dust also excluded Reul Ghorm or any of her little acolytes. And, well, your parents wouldn’t wish you away, so that rules them out.” She sighed. “I even considered Henry, because he’s been pushing things recently, but I really don’t believe he would do anything this foolish. So, yes, that leaves Jones.”

Emma’s mind reeled with too many possibilities at once, so many questions which she wanted to ask. She repeated her constant mantra, the one which had saved her ass so many times from bad situations: think. Deep breaths. Think. Concentrate on the important things. Work out what needs handled first. Killian. Henry. Killian. Henry.

“What’s Henry been pushing?”

Regina gave a mildly amused snort. “He thinks you and I have issues which need sorting out.”

Despite herself, Emma chuckled. Yeah, that was their boy. And he would do something like this, no matter what Regina thought. He had a lot more of Emma in him than Regina liked to admit.

“I thought we were getting along well. I mean, even before all this.” An image of Regina riding Emma’s fingers, her own nails digging hard into Emma’s shoulders, flitted through her mind. Fuck, she wanted her again already.

“Yes, well, I suppose we were.” Regina’s reluctance to admit that they had even been friends almost made Emma laugh. “Henry could sense my resentment.”

“Of me?”

Regina pulled herself from Emma’s hold and turned to face her. “I genuinely do not know how you manage to keep your job as Sheriff if you’re this dense. Of that pirate, Emma. Of Jones.”

And, okay, maybe she wasn’t the fastest sometimes, but she was smart and she got people, was good at knowing what made them tick, and she resented the hell out of any insinuation that she wasn’t good at that part of her job. The hurt and irritation on Regina’s face gave her away.

“You were jealous.”

“Well, of course I was jealous.” Regina shook her head, as if that were the most obvious thing. “He had you, and he couldn’t possibly deserve you in a million years. He doesn’t even appreciate what he has in you. He treats you as if you’re some treasure he’s plundered, another fancy bauble to show off. And you let him. Not only do you let him, you let him touch you.” Regina pressed her fingers against her temple. “And I shouldn’t have said that. It is not my place, and I apologise. This spell is—”

“Don’t fuck with me, Regina. This spell is not the problem.” Emma folded her arms across her chest, her own anger and frustration building. “You’re jealous, fine. Better than fine—good, even. It means you care about me. And I want that. You know I care about you, too.” Not care: love. So in love. So in love and too scared to say it because, what if it was only the spell? Attraction and sex and all of that were one thing, but love was a whole ’nother ball game. Love was family and living together and maybe even marriage one day, although Emma would be fine without it, as long as she could have Regina and Henry and home. Love was being brave and facing the world and saying, ‘This is what I want. This family is who I am.’ Love was the fear growing in her chest that one wrong move, one wrong word, and this morning would be taken away from her.

“He came to see me on Thursday.” It was low and Regina’s lip was curled up in distaste. “He asked me to stop seeing you. He informed me that I was interfering in his private life by filling your head with notions.”

“Notions?”

“Apparently, I encourage you to believe that you can do better than him. Which was entirely unfair, as I have made a point of never doing such a thing. I may not have liked him, but I respected your choice to be with him, and I would never have come between you like that.” She smirked. “Well, not intentionally. Certainly not verbally.”

“And what did you tell him?” Calm. Stay calm.

“I hadn’t intended to say anything, because he hardly deserved any acknowledgement of his baseless accusations, but he implied that I was preventing him from having his rightful place in Henry’s life, too.” Regina had been gesticulating with her hands as she spoke, but mention of Henry caused her to close her hand in a fist. “And that man is nothing more than a stranger to my son. He has no place in his life.”

“I know that. I have told him that many times.” Fuck, Killian. And fuck Killian. Emma was disgusted that he would say such a thing, after she had warned him and warned him that Henry was not part of their arrangement. Emma-Hook and Regina-Emma-Henry: two different things. “Henry had a father, even if only for a short time, and Neal doesn’t need replaced, not when the kid has all the parents he’ll ever need in you and me.”

“It never once occurred to me that you might agree with him on that point.” Regina’s voice was sharp. “But he pushed me, and I do not like being pushed, Emma.”

“What did you say to him?” Emma was getting angrier by the second, and she wasn’t sure at whom: Hook, for speaking to Regina in the first place, or Regina, for not telling her about their confrontation.

“That I had nothing to do with his own inadequacies as both a man and a father figure. That the last child he’d been trusted with was Henry’s actual father, whose family he destroyed and whom he abandoned to Pan. That he was unworthy of a place in your life or our son’s. That he was a craven, snivelling, pathetic excuse for a man. That I hardly needed to so much as lift a finger against him for you to see that for yourself.”

Emma groaned. “Awesome.”

“What would you have had me do? Should I have acquiesced to the wishes of a man who sold me to be tortured and killed?”

“He what?”

“Owen Flynn, Emma. He handed me over to Owen Flynn, watched as I was strapped down, and he left me to die.”

And, shit. That day, that day when Regina almost died. Her worst day. Their worst day. And she’d been told that Hook had a part in it, but then there had been the trigger and Neverland and saving Henry and Pan’s curse and, fuck, everything else. She hadn’t really thought about what his part might be, because he had the beans that they needed to get to Neverland. She had overlooked the fact that he’d stolen the beans for himself in the first place, and she hadn’t asked about the rest of it. She hadn’t asked Regina and she hadn’t asked Hook, and she should have. She should have found out what he’d done. She should have cared enough about the woman she claimed to be in love with to find out what had actually happened to her. But she’d never been able to ask because she couldn’t stand to think about it. And, yeah, she’d put her own emotional well-being before Regina’s because she was shit at relationships.

“I’m sorry!” It burst out of her in a howl, and that wasn’t how a normal person apologised. She exhaled slowly, tightening her hands into fists and trying to rein herself in. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise for him.” Regina’s anger was receding, her voice returning to its baseline testiness.

“Not for him. For me. For all the times when I should have been there for you and I wasn’t.”

Regina watched her for a few moments, weighing the statement and considering her answer. “You’re almost always there in your own way. You’ve been there more than anyone else in my life ever has.”

“And you deserve more than that. More than me.” She hung her head. “You deserve better than scraps and half-assed support.”

“And you need to stop apologising for the past when I’ve never asked for nor needed you to do so. If I had any problems with you, do you honestly doubt for one second that I would not tell you so to your face? There are a thousand little things—and big things—that you and I should have handled differently. But we didn’t, and we can’t change that. You run and I lash out: that is who we are. But you are definitely not responsible for the things done or said by Killian Jones.”

“Come on, we’re talking about torture. You almost fucking died that day.”

“He and I have almost killed the other many times over the years. Thus far, we have not succeeded.”

“But I could have lost you!”

“And I did lose you, to a man so lacking in basic decency, so far beneath you in every way! You chose him, you gave yourself to him, and that hurt a hell of a lot more than any physical torture!” Regina’s eyes widened as she realised what she had admitted. She clenched her jaw. “The spell—”

“Jesus, Regina, don’t go there again. I get that it’s making us admit things we might not have otherwise said, but it’s not making us lie.” She was shuddering from too much emotion. “Hook is what I thought I should want, all I thought I could have. He isn’t you! He isn’t my everything.” She shook her head. “Fuck, I just wish that—”

“Do not finish that statement.”

“What?”

Regina’s face was pure frustration. “This spell which you won’t let me discuss responds to your wishes. The thing I value most is that whatever we are to each other has always been real. Even when it was messy and hate-filled and vengeful, it was real. Anything you wish for now might very well come true, and we would never know whether it was real or the spell. And I don’t want that.”

Emma deflated instantly. “Why can’t our lives be about something other than shitty fucking magic?”

Regina laughed, a cold sound devoid of humour. “I think that ship has well and truly sailed.”

Emma shook her head, the comment somehow pulling the last of her anger from her, leaving mostly a sense of being so very tired. She wished that—shit, no, she couldn’t think like that. Hold on. There was something else, something important there.

“Just my wishes?” She tilted her head as she thought through what Regina had been saying. She was quite specific about Emma’s wishes being the issue. “Why not our wishes?”

“The spell doesn’t react to mine, only yours.”

“You tried?”

“Yes.”

Emma might not always be able to read Regina accurately because her own feelings often got in the way, but she recognised that look, the I’m-hiding-something-I’m-embarrassed-about look. And she felt her confidence—and her lust, definitely her lust, always her lust—return as she thought about the exact moment that Regina had realised that it was a wish curse. That image was burned in her brain forever, all skin and lingerie and boots and perfect, breathy moans. And she’d verbalised a wish for Emma to be inside her, only that had come true, so she had to be thinking of something else.

“And what exactly did you wish for?” She took a step towards Regina.

“It’s hardly important.” Downward glance, lip between her teeth: that was a lie, or at least something she didn’t want to admit.

“Tell me.” Emma reached out and pulled Regina to her, marvelling at how quickly they had gone from shouting and fury back to this. It could be the spell, she supposed, but it was far more likely that it was them. Together, they were every emotion all at once. Maybe back in real Storybrooke they wouldn’t cycle through them so quickly, or maybe they would. But they’d probably always be a thing of extremes. It would never be boring. And hopefully it would always be real.

Regina wound her arms around Emma’s waist and leaned in until her mouth was by Emma’s ear.

“I wished for you to be naked so I could fuck myself against you.”

Emma groaned. It was bad enough that Regina could bend her will just by using Emma’s name, but this ability to reduce her to nothing more than insensible lust was so un-fucking-fair.

“Okay, I officially don’t care who cast this spell because we need to make that happen right fucking now.” She tipped her head back as Regina’s mouth started moving against her neck, leaving what was going to be a very noticeable hickey—assuming, of course, they ever met anyone who would notice it. “We should go back to my house. I’m too old for doing this outdoors.”

Regina laughed. “One, you’re never too old to do this outdoors and, two, we’re going to the B&B to find out if I’m right about Hook.”

“Says who?”

“Me. And you don’t want to cross me, Emma.”

“Because I don’t know what you’re capable of?”

“On the contrary,” Regina’s hands dropped to Emma’s ass, pulling her even closer, “because you’ve experienced exactly what I’m capable of, and you’ll not get to experience it again if you don’t do as I say.”

“That is entirely unfair.”

With a final kiss to Emma’s neck, Regina stepped back and admired the mark she’d left there. “Yes, it is. Feel free to file a complaint with my office when we return.”

Yup. Things with Regina Mills would never, ever be boring.

+

Hook’s room had once been Emma’s, when she first came to town. Every time she had been there, her mind had always gone to that second meeting, Regina offering the basket of apples, and how much she had wanted her, even then. She mentioned as much to Regina, who had preened at the compliment.

“You were quite distracting in your underwear yourself,” Regina said.

“You wanted me too?”

“No, I wanted you gone.” Her gaze travelled up and down Emma’s body. “But I have eyes. I can appreciate what’s in front of me, even if I didn’t want to sample it then.”

Emma picked up some of Hook’s things as they both moved around the room. There wasn’t much to look at. He didn’t own much, and had little need for most of the trappings of the modern world. There wasn’t even a radio, never mind a television. Emma was familiar with most of his things, and nothing looked out of place or particularly new.

“So, if I’d propositioned you, what would you have said?”

Regina shrugged. “I would probably have acted offended to see if spurning you would cause you to back down. If that hadn’t worked, I would probably have had sex with you, thinking that it was as good a way as any to bend you to my will.”

“But only for leverage, not because you wanted me?”

“Aw, am I hurting your feelings?” Regina shot her a sarcastic grin. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Better?”

Emma pulled open a chest of drawers and rifled through it. “I could just wish for you to tell me the truth.”

Regina growled, as if Emma was spoiling all her fun. “Fine. Whatever. There has never been a time when I found you not-attractive. And I would not have been repelled by the idea of sex with you just for its own sake.”

Emma clutched her hand to her chest. “Wow, my heart, with the compliments and the romance.”

“Stop being such a princess. You know fine well that I wanted you back then, and you’re just fishing for compliments.” Regina stopped her searching and leaned against the wall.

“Actually, no, I didn’t know that.” Emma turned to face her, sitting on top of the chest of drawers.

“Seriously?” Regina scowled in disbelief.

“I’m being entirely serious.”

“Not even that day at the mine?”

“What about it?”

“I could barely keep my hands from you. All I wanted to do was take you back to my office and fuck you until one of us broke.”

Emma moaned. “Okay, whenever we get back to real Storybrooke, there has to be a rule about when you can use that word, because it’s not fair that you have a second superpower.”

“A second superpower?” Regina was pushing herself off the wall and walking towards her.

“Like you don’t already know about the name thing.”

“What name thing, Em-ma?” She grinned, drawing the two syllables out almost indecently.

“That.” She hung her head. There was no way to win with this woman, although she wasn’t really bothered about losing. Not when Regina was now standing between her legs, her hand back on her neck, kneading all the tension away. And not when Regina’s free hand was guiding Emma’s hand to her hip. She took the hint and pulled Regina against her, tucking her head under the other woman’s chin.

“I have always wanted you. Always.” Regina’s voice was soft and low and reassuring. “From the first day we met and every day since, no matter how bad things got, no matter how futile and pointless it seemed.” She pressed a kiss to the top of Emma’s head.

They stayed like that for a short while and Emma thought that maybe that being held like this was her new favourite thing. Not that sex and kissing and everything else wasn’t incredible, because it was, but the feeling of completeness she felt in Regina’s arms was something she had literally never dreamt of because it had never occurred to her that something quite so perfect could exist.

“Do you sense that?” Regina said.

“Magic?”

“Mmm, it’s traces of the spell.” Regina stepped a foot or so back and waved her free hand through the air, her fingers spread as if combing through water. “You don’t feel it?”

“No.” All Emma felt was the loss of Regina. “You know I’m not good with this stuff.”

“Try for me.”

Emma closed her eyes and let her hand drift up to shoulder height. She moved her hand around, but nothing happened. She opened one eye to see Regina biting back a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your I’m-concentrating-on-magic face is quite precious.”

Emma opened both eyes and let her hand fall to her thigh. “I’m glad I amuse you.”

“Oh, you do much more than amuse me.” Regina’s eyes flashed with something that wasn’t humour. “But I need you to feel this spell, too.”

“Why?”

“Because no-one will believe me on my own. When we return, they will think I kidnapped you against your will.”

“No, they won’t. Not when they’ve heard the truth.”

“They’ll still believe the worst of me unless you back me up.” Regina’s half-turn away and downcast eyes showed that she believed that to be true. Still, after all these years, she thought people would only see her as the villain. “Just try again.”

“How?”

Regina pulled her up and came to stand behind her, placing one hand on Emma’s waist and the other on her shoulder. “Reach out with your own magic. Try to sense the other magic in the room. It’s old magic, from the Enchanted Forest, rich and earthy. If you concentrate, you should find it easily, even over the overpowering man-stench.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Does that pirate never wash?”

It was a deflection, one which Emma was willing to let slide for now, because convincing Regina that people saw her as more than her Evil Queen persona was a bigger fight for another day.

“You want me to concentrate with you standing behind me like that?” She looked over her shoulder and Regina was blushing. It looked good. It looked better to know that she’d caused it. She could make Regina happy. That made her feel about fifty feet tall.

“Concentrate, Emma, and I’ll take you home and fuck you until one of us breaks.”

Her knees almost buckled at the whispered command. “That’s low.”

“No, it’s a promise.” She tapped Emma’s shoulder. “Try again.”

Magic was emotion, and there was a surfeit of that in Fake Storybrooke, so she evened out her breathing, letting herself feel Regina’s warmth at her back and how that made her feel love and lust and a strong sense of belonging. She tried to connect with Regina’s magic first, and it happened more easily than ever before. It was beautiful, a thing of light and every good feeling.

“I feel you,” she said, letting herself lean back into Regina.

“I know.” Regina sent out a signal across their connection, and a shiver of lust passed along Emma’s body, settling between her thighs, where she was already starting to throb with want again just from their closeness.

“Do you teach all your students like this?” Her voice was a lot breathier than she wanted it to be.

“Only the ones who need extra incentive.”

“Good to know.” She let herself bask in the heat of Regina’s connection for a few seconds, and then reached out again. She could sense that there was something else there, something which was neither her nor Regina. “I think I feel it.”

“Tell me.” Regina’s voice was right by her ear.

“It’s like smoke, dark and heavy smoke, like when you burn leaves in a backyard fire.”

“Good. That’s very good. Follow it with your mind, let it lead you.”

She concentrated on the smoke, tried to imagine what it would smell like. She thought it would be heavy and acrid and almost chemical, and she ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth, as if she might be able to taste it. Rich and earthy, Regina had said, and that made her think of forests and fields, but that wasn’t where her mind was going. She could clearly see paper—no, it was too heavy and yellowed for paper, so it had to be parchment— burning in a large bowl, made of metal or possibly pewter. The flame glowed blue-green, lighting the darkness of her imagination and then she could see the whole room in her mind. Worse, she saw him. She gasped and slumped backwards against Regina.

“What is it? Are you all right?” Regina’s arms were around her waist, holding her up.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m fine.” Emma opened her eyes and tried to regain her balance and bearings. “It’s just, I saw him. Hook. I saw him casting the spell by burning a parchment in this weird ceremonial bowl thing and mumbling something.”

Regina manoeuvred them around until they were back in their starting position, Emma perched on the edge of the chest of drawers, her head cradled to Regina’s chest, sure hands stroking through her hair and massaging her neck. It was only when she settled in that position that she realised that her heart had been racing and that she was covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I know it kinda had to be, but I still can’t believe it was him,” she said.

“And you actually saw him performing the spell?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone being able to see a spell being cast before.”

“That’s not what you saw?” Emma pulled back enough to see Regina smiling down at her in a combination of worry and pride.

“No. I could only sense the kind of spell and the fact that it had been cast here. Tracing the magic back is not something which is supposed to be possible, although there are legends that it happened in the past, centuries ago.” She kissed Emma’s forehead. “Your magic never ceases to amaze me. The fact that such power has been wasted on you is one of life’s great mysteries.”

Emma wanted to retaliate, but she was so tired that she could hardly move at all. “I’d hit you for that,” she said, “but lifting my arm seems to be more effort than I can manage. Do you think you can poof us home?” She was finding it hard just to stay awake.

“Yes, sweet Emma, I can do that.”

+

When she woke, it was dark, but that meant nothing when it had been dark for three whole days. She was in her bed, wearing shorts and a tank top, although she didn’t ever remember getting changed. The space next to her was warm, so Regina couldn’t be far away. She grinned at the thought that they’d finally made it to a bed and that Regina had stayed with her while she slept. Yawning and stretching, she rolled over and up into a seated position. It was warmer than it had been, which was most likely Regina’s doing as well. She checked her phone screen. Almost eight, so she’d been out for probably six hours. Six hours in a bed with Regina next to her which she had wasted with sleeping.

The bedroom door was open and candlelight flickered beyond. She pushed herself off the bed and went through to the hall. Regina was sitting on the couch, feet tucked under herself, book in hand. She was wearing a grey silk robe Emma had never seen before and, from what Emma could see, nothing underneath. She looked in Emma’s direction and pushed her reading glasses up onto the top of her head.

“You’re awake, princess.”

“And you weren’t in bed with me.”

Regina put her book down and stood, crossing the room to meet her and pulling her into a hug. “Your stomach was growling, even in your sleep, so I thought I should make us something to eat. There’s lasagne in the oven.”

“Sunday night special,” Emma nodded sleepily and nuzzled against Regina’s cheek.

“Indeed.”

“Kid’ll be sorry he missed it.” Sundays meant family night. Lasagne. Pie and ice-cream.

“I can make it one night this week when we’re back.” Her fingertips traced up and over Emma’s bicep until she reached her shoulder. She pushed Emma back. “Sit, and I shall feed you.”

“You’d make an awesome wife,” Emma said before her conscious mind caught up with her mouth.

“I doubt my first husband would agree.” Regina gave her a pointed stare and moved through to the kitchen, which allowed Emma to stare at her bare legs and get a flash of ass here and there.

“For me, I meant.” Possibly not an improvement on her original statement, but definitely the truth. Regina just shook her head.

“Sit down and stop talking.”

Probably a good idea, she thought. Sometimes it was better to say nothing. This was probably one of those times. Only, she’d never been very good at following advice of any kind.

“You should’ve woken me sooner,” she said as Regina brought her over a glass of water with plenty of ice and laid the plates down.

“Magic is tiring. You needed the rest.”

“We were only there for, like, five minutes.”

“You were out for over thirty minutes.” Regina returned with a serving dish and ladled two portions of lasagne onto plates, one almost double the size of the other.

“In Hook’s room, when I was following the spell?”

“Yes.”

“It felt like about thirty seconds.”

“Magic’s like that. It’s not always in real time.” Regina pushed her food around her plate, taking only tiny bites, but smiling in approval as Emma wolfed hers down. “He looks just like you when he eats.”

“Like a barbarian with no manners?”

“Like you appreciate my cooking and you fear that you might never eat again.”

“It’s an old foster home habit in my case. It’s also why, whenever I get steak in a restaurant, I eat the meat first, ’cause that was always the thing people would steal. No kid ever tried to take your broccoli. No idea why the kid’s so worried, though. You’re not gonna steal from his plate.”

“You would.”

Emma laughed. “Yeah, I would, but he’s big enough now to slap my hand away when I try.”

“Well, eat up anyway.”

“Why?”

Regina smiled, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, which caused the silk robe to ride way up, every movement tracked by Emma’s eyes. Then she trailed her fingers over her sternum and down between her breasts, pushing the silk aside enough that Emma got more than a glimpse of naked skin beneath.

“Because I distinctly remember promising you a reward for your efforts earlier, and a lady never reneges on a promise.”

Emma pushed her chair from the table and unceremoniously lifted Regina from her chair, groaning with pleasure when she felt strong thighs wrapping around her waist and the distinct feeling of wetness against her abdomen, even through her thin tank top.

“Not hungry anymore?” Regina asked, her fingers threading into Emma’s hair.

“Not for lasagne, anyway.”

* * * * *

Next up: Chapter 7 [A]