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True Love’s Near-Miss

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Over the past little while they’d settled into the early stages of some sort of relationship, with family dinners and a handful of date nights and even waking up wrapped around each other in Regina’s luxurious bed more than a few times, although the queen responded quite sharply to any suggestion that she was a cuddler.

But while there’d been some intense make-out sessions, they hadn’t had sex since their first marathon session under the influence of the spell. The memory of being unable to stop dampened their desire just enough to stop them short, though Emma knew her showerhead, at least, was getting a workout to pick up the slack.

Tonight, however, was going to be the night, Henry bundled safely off with Snow and Charming with clear instructions that this was adult alone time and he should not sneak home. Emma’s parents were, predictably, decidedly not thrilled to see their daughter dating their worst enemy, but as staunch believers in the doctrine of true love they couldn’t argue against what had been magically revealed. Plus, they were slowly being won over by seeing how happy it made Emma. And Henry.

Though Snow had gone nearly catatonic for an hour after realizing why Emma had been walking strangely that night she came home late.

Emma’s emotional state careened wildly between anxious and excited and happy and horny as she walked up the path at the mayoral mansion, carrying a grocery bag—cloth, because Regina insisted—with dinner in it. Plus, a couple of extra items at the bottom that she hoped would make tonight spectacular. That thought swung her decidedly back to horny as she knocked on the door, but something else hit her hard in the chest at the sight of the older woman.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” she breathed, unable to think anything else.

“Come in, Miss Swan,” the mayor said dryly, but Emma could read the little traces of being pleased in her otherwise stoic expression. She wondered who the queen thought she was fooling with this public air of distance, as the two of them, together, had settled in firmly as the hot gossip in sleepy Storybrooke.

As soon as the door closed, Emma pulled Regina into one of the deep, slow kisses they had both discovered they enjoyed. Setting the bag down on the floor, one hand threaded through dark hair and the other found the small of the queen’s back, melding their bodies together perfectly like they were made for each other. Which, apparently, they were.

They kissed for long minutes like that, unhurried and intimate, and it was so perfect. Until Emma’s stomach growled audibly. The older woman pulled back and looked at her admonishingly, leading the blonde to glare down at herself and mutter, “Traitor.”

Regina gave a tiny snort of amusement. “You’ll be of no use to anyone until you’ve been fed,” she teased, turning to head toward the kitchen. “And I intend to have plenty of use of you tonight,” she added, swaying her hips more than was strictly necessary, and Emma’s knees buckled a little.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Emma murmured, grabbing the groceries and following her eagerly.

**

As they were finishing up the last of the dishes, Emma stepped out of the kitchen for long enough that Regina knew she was up to something. When the blonde returned she came up behind the queen and brushed her hair off her neck, leaning in to lavish kisses there.

The mayor carefully put down the plate and dishtowel, then tried to turn to capture the sheriff’s lips, but Emma's hands held her hips steady, making her continue facing the counter as she started sucking lightly where the older woman’s neck met her shoulder. Regina had to settle for reaching back and tangling fingers in blonde hair to keep her right there.

“I brought a little something. Or, a not so little something,” the sheriff murmured, rolling her hips against the older woman’s ass, letting her feel the hardness tucked behind the fly of what must surely be men’s jeans.

“You do have one,” Regina breathed. She knew perfectly well that the spell could only show them possible realities with each other, not invent scenarios, but both of them continued to be surprised by the little details where the fantasy had been exactly right.

Reaching back her free hand to cup the toy through the straining denim, she hummed low in her throat. Nine magnificent inches, just as she’d imagined, and thick enough that she’d have to stretch to take it, and god she wanted to be gloriously full of Emma’s cock.

“Shall we take this upstairs?” the queen asked.

“Mmhmm,” the blonde hummed around the mouthful of skin she was nipping lightly, then pulled back and slid her hand down into the mayor’s palm to lead her to her own bedroom. Between the hand-holding and Emma’s hopeful-adoring facial expression, the queen part of her found this cloying. But the part of her that had been love-starved for her entire life soaked it in.

Pausing outside the closed door, the blonde turned to her and asked her to close her eyes, and the mayor did give her a sarcastic look before complying. When Emma told her to open her eyes, she discovered that her bedroom was softly lit by a dozen or more candles, some she recognized and some the sheriff must have brought with her.

“I skipped scattering the bed with rose petals, because those things get everywhere,” Emma murmured, standing slightly behind her. As Regina turned to look at the blonde, she responded to the unspoken question, shrugging “Hey, it’s our second first time. I thought I’d make it special.”

And with a surge of adoration the older woman grabbed her and kissed her fiercely. The blonde chuckled lightly, but quickly kissed back. As they settled into the comfortably intense way they had of exploring each other’s mouths, the mayor felt the sheriff’s hands go to work on her shirt buttons, and sank into the combination of the kiss and being undressed slowly but steadily as Emma backed her toward the bed.

When the blonde broke the kiss to drop to her knees as she stripped the older woman's slacks and then panties, Regina felt a fresh surge of desire. “You look so good on your knees for me,” she murmured.

She saw the sheriff smirk up at her for just a split second before rearranging her face into submissive reverence, “Yes, My Queen.”

“God,” the older woman breathed. “Get your mouth on me right now,” and Emma did, pushing her back the last half-step to sit on the bed and licking a long, slow stripe up one thigh to where they both wanted her tongue the most, pulling a low groan out of the mayor’s chest at the first contact.

Regina loved the way this woman ate pussy, focused and intense like this was the only thing that mattered. The sheriff lapped at her as if parched, like if she lost contact for even a second she’d die, but she also read the queen’s every response, perfectly, every time, giving her precisely what she needed. That feeling, of being so completely desired and so completely known, had the older woman spiraling toward orgasm much too fast, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

**

Jesus fuck, Emma had missed this. She was fully prepared to admit that she was addicted to being face-first in Regina’s pussy, the heat and the taste and the slickness. The blonde wanted to be here always, forever, making this woman feel amazing, pulling moans from her throat and coaxing twitches from her muscles and drawing out fresh floods of wetness. She was completely fucking ravenous for this, moaning almost as much as the queen.

“So hungry for me,” Regina groaned.

Emma pulled her mouth off for a second to tease, “Hey, I’m cosmically predisposed to think your pussy is fucking delicious.” At Regina’s appalled facial expression, she nodded. “Right, less talking, more licking.”

“Good girl,” the queen purred, tangling fingers in blonde hair to pull her back to her cunt. Soon the older woman was rocking her hips up rhythmically in time with Emma’s flat-tongue strokes. Locking her eyes with Regina’s, the blonde pulled both of the mayor’s thighs over her shoulders to get closer-deeper-more, turning her motion into a circular swirl that made the older woman’s moans go up an octave and speed up noticeably.

This was perfect. This was everything good, the closeness and the heat and how much she wanted to give Regina limitless pleasure.

Then the queen was arching into her orgasm, and no, that was perfect.

“So beautiful,” Emma breathed.