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Title: Swim Through The Fires To Stay In This World
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
redbrunja
Rating: R
Pairing: Regina/Emma
Author's Note: written forbellonablack. This fic gave me such trouble. I ended up completely scrapping what I had written three times before I wrote this.
Summary: "Regina was brushing her teeth when she realized that she'd been cursed."
Regina was brushing her teeth when she realized that she'd been cursed.
She had just finished with her shower and was debating between her navy pencil skirt and her favorite black slacks as she scrubbed her teeth when Emma walked into the bathroom like she belonged there.
"Good, you're up," Emma said, and kissed the nape of Regina's neck, casual and careless. "Henry wants pancakes and you know that I can't be trusted with mixing."
Regina did know. She remembered coming home from the office to find six glass nesting bowls dirty and piled in the sink and two frying pans edged with charred pancake bits left on the stove, which was drizzled with half-cooked batter.
She remembered the table set with the good china, candles lit, and the way that Henry had grinned through their nutritionally inappropriate dinner. And after, Emma had leaned against the kitchen island while Regina cleaned everything up. Emma clearly hadn't been listening to Regina's instructions for how to serve multiple individuals without letting the food cool.
"Noted," Emma had said anyway and kissed her goodbye before leaving for patrol.
Regina leaned forward, spat toothpaste into the sink.
She remembered lies.
"I'll be down in a minute," she said mechanically.
Emma cocked her head. "You okay?" she asked.
Regina met her own eyes in the mirror. "Of course," she answered.
The last thing she remembered was the purple storm of magic sweeping over Storybrooke. She'd walked out into it, stood next to her apple tree and inhaled magic. Before the clouds had dissipated, Regina had been weaving her defenses, turning tame shrubbery into a lethal perimeter of thorn and spite. When she was finished, she'd leaned back against the trunk of her favorite tree. She'd reached up, plunked one glossy, perfect, sweet apple from its branch, and bit into it with satisfaction.
Clearly, Regina's defenses hadn't been as well-crafted as she'd intended.
Emma was still standing behind her, crowding her.
"You know," Emma said, "you are not as good a liar as you think you are."
Regina turned with a withering look. "I beg to–" she started and then Emma was kissing her.
"Mmph," Regina started. Emma guided her back against the sink and it was the curse, it was a collection of damned false memories that had Regina boosting herself up onto the counter, spreading her knees so Emma could step between them.
After a minute, Emma pulled back, just enough to speak, breathing the words into Regina's mouth as she undid her robe, "please do," Emma said. "You know I love making you beg."
The memories threaten to swamp Regina then; Emma's head between her thighs, making her writhe and plead and shake apart, of kissing until Regina's lips tingled like they were frostbitten, of a thousand touches, running the gamut from harsh to sensual to tender.
You are cursed, Regina told herself, canting her hips forward. Emma pulled Regina's panties to one side, slipped two fingers into Regina's cunt, stroked. Emma was whispering positively filthy endearments, her pupils dilated and a wicked grin on her face.
You are cursed, Regina repeated to herself and came, clenching around Emma's fingers.
Author:
redbrunjaRating: R
Pairing: Regina/Emma
Author's Note: written for
bellonablack. This fic gave me such trouble. I ended up completely scrapping what I had written three times before I wrote this.Summary: "Regina was brushing her teeth when she realized that she'd been cursed."
Regina was brushing her teeth when she realized that she'd been cursed.
She had just finished with her shower and was debating between her navy pencil skirt and her favorite black slacks as she scrubbed her teeth when Emma walked into the bathroom like she belonged there.
"Good, you're up," Emma said, and kissed the nape of Regina's neck, casual and careless. "Henry wants pancakes and you know that I can't be trusted with mixing."
Regina did know. She remembered coming home from the office to find six glass nesting bowls dirty and piled in the sink and two frying pans edged with charred pancake bits left on the stove, which was drizzled with half-cooked batter.
She remembered the table set with the good china, candles lit, and the way that Henry had grinned through their nutritionally inappropriate dinner. And after, Emma had leaned against the kitchen island while Regina cleaned everything up. Emma clearly hadn't been listening to Regina's instructions for how to serve multiple individuals without letting the food cool.
"Noted," Emma had said anyway and kissed her goodbye before leaving for patrol.
Regina leaned forward, spat toothpaste into the sink.
She remembered lies.
"I'll be down in a minute," she said mechanically.
Emma cocked her head. "You okay?" she asked.
Regina met her own eyes in the mirror. "Of course," she answered.
The last thing she remembered was the purple storm of magic sweeping over Storybrooke. She'd walked out into it, stood next to her apple tree and inhaled magic. Before the clouds had dissipated, Regina had been weaving her defenses, turning tame shrubbery into a lethal perimeter of thorn and spite. When she was finished, she'd leaned back against the trunk of her favorite tree. She'd reached up, plunked one glossy, perfect, sweet apple from its branch, and bit into it with satisfaction.
Clearly, Regina's defenses hadn't been as well-crafted as she'd intended.
Emma was still standing behind her, crowding her.
"You know," Emma said, "you are not as good a liar as you think you are."
Regina turned with a withering look. "I beg to–" she started and then Emma was kissing her.
"Mmph," Regina started. Emma guided her back against the sink and it was the curse, it was a collection of damned false memories that had Regina boosting herself up onto the counter, spreading her knees so Emma could step between them.
After a minute, Emma pulled back, just enough to speak, breathing the words into Regina's mouth as she undid her robe, "please do," Emma said. "You know I love making you beg."
The memories threaten to swamp Regina then; Emma's head between her thighs, making her writhe and plead and shake apart, of kissing until Regina's lips tingled like they were frostbitten, of a thousand touches, running the gamut from harsh to sensual to tender.
You are cursed, Regina told herself, canting her hips forward. Emma pulled Regina's panties to one side, slipped two fingers into Regina's cunt, stroked. Emma was whispering positively filthy endearments, her pupils dilated and a wicked grin on her face.
You are cursed, Regina repeated to herself and came, clenching around Emma's fingers.
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Fingers crossed this is what the purple smoke actually does at the beginning of season two!
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She suffers so.
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Because it's a sad irony...truly sad, and now she may or may not...she has feelings now, in this place with Emma. Lovely and sad. And realistic.
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