The ground is rough and cold beneath her, dirt and grit catching at her knees even through the expensive fabric of her trousers. Her wrists still burn from being wrapped in cheap rope and her chest aches from ripping out her own heart, from plunging it back in, from the way Tinker Bell’s fingers had squeezed it so tight, held threateningly between them.
None of that matters. Regina’s been through worse.
And so has Tinker Bell, apparently.
Tinker Bell is a mess, no delicate way of putting it, not that Regina’s ever been anything but blunt in her contempt of others. Her clothes smell of damp, her hair of leaves, but when Regina’s lips drag over her skin there’s still that faint trace of spice that she remembers from so long ago. She’d thought it was fairy magic, back in those days, but now she realises it’s just Tinker Bell, just her essence, and Regina licks a stripe up the side of Tinker Bell’s neck and revels in the taste.
The response is a growl, Tinker Bell’s fingers fisting in Regina’s hair, pulling her head back so she can see the spark in those narrowed blue eyes. It’s not hate, not truly, Regina isn’t sure that Tinker Bell is capable of real hate, no matter what she may claim. But it is anger, anger and betrayal, the aftermath of a trust destroyed, and it’s everything Regina doesn’t want to see.
But Tinker Bell won’t let her look away. Holding her hair and her gaze as she rips at the zipper of Regina’s fly, as she pushes her fingers under the waistband and beneath the lacy fabric of Regina’s panties. Fingers curling and stroking, hard and harsh, and Regina groans, eyelids fluttering.
She remembers how Tinker Bell used to touch her, back in the Enchanted Forest in that brief time she could call the fairy a friend. So light and sweet and playful, teasing but never mocking, pausing for tender kisses and whispered promises. Tinker Bell used to touch her with love, and Regina’s scalp and eyes prickle as the hand in her hair pulls tighter.
“I see you missed me,” she smirks, arrogant and haughty even though her voice catches slightly when Tinker Bell’s fingers massage at her clit.
Tinker Bell’s lip pulls up in a sneer, an expression Regina can’t imagine ever seeing on the woman she once knew, her fingers stroking further back between Regina’s legs but never pushing inside, no matter how wet Regina is for them, no matter how ready. “I want your mouth,” Tinker Bell hisses, and fuck, Regina wants that too, didn’t realise how much she missed this, even if this is a twisted version of whatever they may have had before.
“Then spread for me, dear,” she leers, and Tinker Bell kisses her savagely, like she wants to hurt Regina, like she wants to leave bruises.
It’s difficult to hold on to her disappointed whine when Tinker Bell’s hand slides free of her panties, but then Tinker Bell is throwing herself back against the ground, dragging Regina down on top of her. Raising her hips so she can yank her skirt up, shove her tights down, and Regina bites at her earlobe, feels the rage still vibrating underneath Tinker Bell’s skin.
She drags off tights and boots, gets her hands on Tinker Bell’s bare knees. Shoves her legs apart, and she may never get Tinker Bell’s forgiveness, isn’t even sure she’d want it if offered, but she can have this. All that creamy skin and that pretty pink cunt, and Regina breathes it in, scent of sex heavy between them. Then Tinker Bell’s hands are in her hair once again, forcing Regina’s head down as if she wouldn’t go willingly, Tinker Bell’s groan echoing in her ears and a buzzing in her mind that sounds like the flapping of a fairy’s wings.