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“...I’ll be needing that bra back, by the way,” Emma said in an undertone, slipping in behind Regina as she made her way to the great dining hall. “It was part of a matching set and I’d hate for you to see me in one without the other.”
Regina, at first momentarily startled by her unexpected appearance, smiled back at her with smug satisfaction. “So, I am to take it you will be staying the night?”
“A bit presumptive of you. But, yes.” She leaned down and kissed her ear. “If you’ll have me.”
It was a rare event for Emma to stay in the castle. As sheriff, she seldom stayed anywhere outside of Storybrooke lest she and her savior powers were suddenly needed. And though she had found Mulan agreeable to fill in for her absence, the odd disparity she still felt between the life she knew and the life she could have led was sometimes too much to reconcile. Emma felt foreign in her ancestral home, especially knowing that, had things gone differently, what she and Regina now shared would never have been. But this was Regina’s first anniversary as elected “Queen of Everything,” as Emma liked to call her, and she had taken the full weekend off to spend in celebration of her. She wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.
“Of course I’ll have you,” Regina said, a little breathless. She knew this wasn’t easy for Emma and was frankly honored. Her hand reached back and took hold of hers, walking together to dinner. “I’ll have you many, many ways.” Emma wouldn’t regret her stay, Regina would make sure of that.
Emma’s divorce had been painful, drawn out like torture, and she was yet shy to intimacy. Not to be confused with sex. That had happened early, and had recurred often and rigorously so. But only just the other week had Emma consented to sleep over through their nights together, rather than leave before the dawn. Being able to now hold her hand in public, though none were around to see, was already a mighty step forward and it made Regina noticeably happy.
“Not without giving me back my bra first, you won’t,” Emma teased and squeezed her hand tighter, falling in step with Regina’s stride.
“I could just take your underwear, too, dear,” she said, her voice dropping into a low purr, one she knew would raise the little hairs on the back of Emma’s neck. “Then the matching set would be all mine to enjoy.”
“If you’re suggesting I’m going to go commando at dinner with my family and the court,” she replied, her magic stirring under her skin in unexpected arousal, “you’re forgetting I’m a princess and a bit more refined.” To which, Regina snorted and broke into a fit of quiet laughter. Her own words, twisted and sent back to her, were loaded with sarcasm. Emma hated being a proper princess. But, here she was anyway, dressed in a stupid pink ball gown that she was sure her mother had selected personally, all for Regina’s sake. All for her.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Regina said and kissed her cheek.
It would slowly dawn on the princess that she was in love with the Queen of Everything. In love, and wanting more.
The realization came midway through the second course at dinner. She had been staring at Regina, her deep brown eyes occasionally glinting with purple whenever their gazes met, when Emma dropped her fork in surprise, shaking herself free from her reverie. It clattered to the floor and the table turned to stare at her in confusion.
“Sorry,” she mumbled and reached down to retrieve it. People quickly resumed their conversations, paying her no heed as she struggled to find her fork.
She was in love, and the thought was maddening. It hadn’t even been a season since her divorce and already she was doe-eyed and moon struck. Regina was indeed Queen of Everything, apparently including her heart, and Emma was suddenly frustrated for finding herself so deeply within her thrall, powerless to resist her.
Having left her chair, unable to bend properly in her gown, Emma had practically crawled under the table to find her fork right beside Regina’s shoe. As she reached for it, as if she could see her through the table, Regina stepped on the utensil, keeping it from her. Frustration bloomed into an old familiar loathing, one now permanently marked with the sweet addictive taste of their blended magic, forever linked to her libido and the mapped memory of Regina’s body. Emma’s lip curled in a hungry smile.
“Be that way then,” she whispered and, in a flash, she had summoned Regina’s underwear into her hand.
Above the table, Regina halted mid sentence. Emma heard her clear her throat as she shifted her legs underneath her skirts.
“Is everything all right, Regina?” Emma heard Snow ask as she stuffed the delightfully scented panties into her bodice and scurried out from under the table.
“Yes, of course. Just a sudden draft,” she said, eyeing Emma with dangerous levels of intrigue. The corners of her mouth threatened a smile.
“Strange, I felt none,” Emma said, reaching for her wine with a crooked smile of her own.
Oblivious to their game, Snow asked, “Couldn’t find your fork?” and was about to check under the table herself when Emma waved her hand and summoned forth a new one.
“No need. This one’s clean.” Resuming her dinner, though not paying it much attention, she added quietly, “Things do seem to keep vanishing around here, however. Almost like magic.”
Dinner continued into dessert and several speeches were made in Regina’s honor, none of which she received without looking utterly stricken with humility. She was deep within her wine cups, face a little flushed with both joy and embarrassment as well as alcohol, and Emma had to force herself to look away. Regina was the most beautiful woman in the world. And she was in love with her.
She dallied with her dessert, cutting the cake into crumbles with her new fork, working through her conflicting desire to return to the safety of her armor, of her walls, and for the return of her raw and vulnerable affections. She had made Regina unhappy before, leaving her alone after every one of their tumbles in between the sheets, unable to let herself be that close, that intimate. After all that, would Regina want her love anymore?
Under the table, Emma’s knee was nudged, and she looked up. The light in Regina’s eyes was all the answer she needed to hush her mind’s anxious ramblings. She smiled at Emma, causing her heart to flutter and instinct to override the rest of her thoughts.
Lifting her stockinged foot from her shoe, Emma trailed her toes along the top of Regina’s foot and slowly up her leg.
The table was cheering, raising their glasses in yet another toast to their queen, the majority of the liege lords and ladies quite tipsy in their celebration and as unaware as Snow of the mischief occurring under the table.
“To Regina!” Emma joined in unison, and her foot snuck under the woman’s gown. She parted her legs willingly and Emma felt her chest tighten, her heart ramming against her ribs. As the table carried on, so did she, her foot sliding up and up and eventually grazing the inside of a thigh, heat growing against her toes. Regina’s hand clenched around her wine but she remained, otherwise, impassive save for the purple that flashed in her eyes. The green within Emma’s darkened and she reached, and nearly gasped to find just how wet she already was.
Regina actually reclined within her chair, a pleased look upon her face that anyone else would assume was her merely basking in the tribute. With her foot now neatly within range of her core, Emma took the perceived challenge and wiggled her toes. She fought not to giggle as she watched the queen bite her lip and look away, suddenly fascinated by the tapestries on the wall.
Flexing once more, pressing further, Emma raised her own glass in toast. “For the years ahead, may they be fulfilling.” Regina’s eyes darted back to Emma’s, her pupils widening, as her mask began to dissolve into a deep, warming smile. “And may everything you touch be graced by your favor.” She flicked her toes and laughed as Regina’s legs closed, clamping down and holding her foot firmly in place.
“Here, here!” the table chanted in unison. Some banged their fists on the table, and Emma took the opportunity to press her luck even further. Twisting her foot, the rest of her staying impressively still, Emma found her target and caused Regina grab the edge of the table in support.
“Most of all,” Emma cried, lifting her toast higher, her grin broad and eyes sparkling, “To your heart, and the strength with which it beats. May we always be worthy.”
The table hummed in agreement, lifting their glasses, though a little bemused at her choice of words. Snow, in particular, was curious. “That’s... strangely sentimental of you, Emma.” Still, she drank in response to the toast, her own snow white skin reddening with the wine.
“Yeah, well…” Emma said, running along Regina’s core once more before pulling her foot out from between her legs. “What can I say? I was inspired.”
Regina’s eyes were glowing, tinted with more than simply veiled lust. They sparked with a certain vengeance, and with hope. Turnabout was only fair play, this day. Regina still had her bra, Emma still had Regina's underwear. And after dinner, goodness only knew, they could very well end up having each other’s hearts, too.