Work Header

The Ocean Can't Come To This Town

Work Text:

"I'll kill you," Emma mumbles around the silk scarf in her mouth. It smells like Regina's perfume, reminds Emma all too powerfully of what it's like to touch Regina, of how she tastes. These are things Emma has been trying to erase from her memories for a week at least, and why she was caught off-guard when Regina's goons jumped her in the parking lot behind the station.

"Be quiet," Regina snaps, prowling the floor of her basement, heels clicking as she slowly paces around Emma's bound and squirming body. "If I wanted you to talk, I wouldn't have gagged you."

"Fuck you," Emma says, and even through the silk and the mumbling the sentiment is perfectly clear.

"Oh, I will," Regina said. "You might even enjoy it. If you behave."

Emma actually whimpers then, even though she doesn't mean to.

She's trying to keep track of Regina's restless movements, but with her arms tied and stretched above her head, it's hard for Emma to turn that much. She's just up on her toes, not enough for it to overextend anything, but she's feeling a little concern for her shoulders already.

Her leather jacket is on the floor by her feet, the only thing Regina pulled from her body as the henchmen wrangled Emma into place. She likes to think she put up a good fight, and at least one of the two huge guys will be walking with a limp for a few days. Now though, even in the quiet of the basement, Emma feels a lot more scared than she did trying to fight her way to freedom.

When Regina comes back into view this time, she's holding a big, shiny pair of scissors. Emma swallows hard at the sight, because if there's one person she doesn't want coming at her with goddamn blades, it's probably this crazy bitch. Regina steps in close, lifting the closed scissors to Emma's face. The metal is cool against Emma's skin, and she sucks in air through her teeth at the first contact. A muscle in her cheek jumps as she forces herself not to pull away, not to show fear at such an early stage.

"Impressive," Regina murmurs, her dark eyes dancing with what might be amusement. "But you, Miss Swan, are wearing far too many clothes."

Emma tries to wriggle away as Regina takes a fistful of white cotton in her fist, but the point of the scissors against Emma's belly freezes her a moment later.

"You learn quickly," Regina says, with just a hint of a sneer. In a few quick snips of the scissors, Emma's favorite tank top is hanging loosely at her sides. Her bra straps fall prey to the blades next, before Regina cuts the whole damn thing free along with the rest of Emma's top and she's left exposed, nipples hardening in the chill of the room. "Not bad, Sheriff."

Emma hates herself for responding to the faint praise, but part of her (the buried, never to be talked about part) is sighing in relief that Regina has stripped Emma half-bare but not found her wanting. Which is possibly the point that Emma is supposed to remember she did not agree to this, certainly didn't ask for it, and maybe should try and make some kind of attempt at escaping it.

Instead she squeezes her thighs together in a failed attempt to tamp down the ache between them. She might laugh, if not for the gag, at how completely fucked she already is.

Regina is still close (too close, dangerously-fucking-close) but she drops the scissors to the floor with a metallic ringing noise. She takes one finger, with one perfectly-manicured nail and scrapes it down the soft skin of Emma's torso, hard enough to leave an angry pink line but not enough to break the skin.

Emma sighs into the wet silk in her mouth, tries not to think about the places she'll put her tongue, if only Regina will let her. She doesn't get much chance to think about that before Regina's fingers have a firm grip on the waist of her jeans, tugging the buttons loose and then peeling the denim down Emma's legs.

As soon as the last of Emma's clothing is removed (she really does try to object to losing her underwear, but there's no way to escape Regina's warm, determined hands) Regina kicks it all away.

"There," Regina says contentedly, before disappearing behind Emma again. There's a table behind her, somewhere, that much Emma managed to see. What might be on it is enough to make a chill run down her spine.

Regina gets close again, but this time the soft material of her red dress is brushing against Emma's bare back.

"Ready?" Regina asks, before carelessly kissing Emma's shoulder. At Emma's reluctant nod the kiss becomes a bite and Emma cries out at the sharpness of teeth against her skin. Next, Regina runs something down Emma's spine, and although it feels slender enough to be a fingertip, the texture tells Emma that it's not.

"You deserve to be punished," Regina says, and it sounds almost conversational. "You must know that by now, a bad girl like you."

"Don't," Emma tries to say, tries to warn Regina away from words that almost never fail to make Emma cry. But the word is indistinct, and Emma blinks back the hot and angry tears with surprising ease. This is going to hurt, tonight, she realizes; just not in the way she's usually scared of.

She's proven right just a moment later, when there's a familiar 'whoosh' through the air, and the crack of leather against skin. The shock (probably) leaves Emma unable to react for a second, unable to process that the stinging on her left butt cheek is a result of the noise she just heard, of the words that Regina just said.

What Emma can't ignore is how wet it makes her.

Regina, of course, is not one to linger or think about her next move. Almost as soon as Emma's first cry fades in the echoing space, another blow lands, this time on her right cheek. She jerks away from the contact, but Regina is relentless, landing the next stinging touch just an inch from the last one.

Emma's breathing hard through her nose, trying to focus on a detail that will stop her from losing her mind already. She's already so turned on she would beg, if Regina asked her. After their first encounter, Emma had no idea she'd lose control quite so quickly, but it's kind of impressive that Regina has matched and bested Emma's own dominance in a matter of minutes.

It's not a whip, that much Emma has worked out. The tip isn't sharp enough, and of course that rules out either a paddle or Regina's bare hand. She loses her train of thought when the next crack against her skin seems particularly vicious, and Regina's ragged breathing becomes impossible to ignore.

"Did you really think," Regina asks, swiping again and making Emma surge up on her toes fully. "That you'd get away with it?"

"Yes," Emma lies, indistinct as ever.

"I am the goddamned Mayor," Regina says, with another smack. "Of this town. And I will not be... disrespected by some two-bit whore who got herself elected Sheriff."

Don't react, Emma tells herself. Don't give it away, don't give her that final scrap of power... but it's too late. Her traitorous fucking body is practically trembling at the mention of the word 'whore', and the moan torn from her throat is too obvious to be ignored.

"Huh," Regina says, and Emma can fucking feel the smirk. "Oh, Miss Swan. How utterly predictable."

"Fuck you," Emma tries again, pushing at the gag with her tongue first and almost getting it free of her lips. It makes her words sound almost like words again. Regina rains down a series of blows on Emma's hot, stinging ass in retribution, and Emma cries out each time.

"I knew you'd be a little slut," Regina gasps, breathless from the effort she's putting into every swing of her arm. But eventually she decides to stop, and Emma feels herself relax just a little for the first time in what feels like hours. Her relief, however, is painfully short-lived.

Regina's mouth is on the back of Emma's neck, on her shoulders again. The kisses are open-mouthed and forceful, sucking hard enough to bruise and then scraping teeth over newly-sensitized skin. Emma leans back into the touch, craving more and hating herself at the same time.

"You'll pay for what you did to me," Regina threatens, pulling her mouth away.

"You liked it," Emma whines, finally succeeding in getting the gag away from her mouth. It hangs limply around her neck, almost like some kind of collar. "I only did it because you liked it."

"And you like being spanked," Regina points out, stepping around Emma again so they're facing one another. Emma takes in the sight of Regina's tousled hair, the flush on her cheeks and the way she's worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. Regina's turned on, that's for damn sure, and Emma knows that even before she sees the hardened nipples poking at the thin fabric of Regina's dress.

"You like," Regina continues, "being called the names that so clearly apply to you." She doesn't let go of the riding crop in her hand, but with her free hand she slips her fingers between Emma's aching thighs. "It certainly makes you wet," Regina concludes, pressing determined fingers just shy of where Emma needs them most. Emma's not even surprised, at this point, at the way her hips jerk towards Regina's hand, desperately seeking out more pressure.

"Please," Emma sobs, her voice cracking once and for all. Any pretense at self-restraint disappeared around the time Regina tied Emma's arms above her head, after all.

"Oh," Regina says, mocking. "Begging already? You still have no idea what I'm capable of, do you?"

This time when Regina steps back, Emma has ample time to see the crop set in motion. It doesn't make her any more prepared for the stinging flash of leather against her breast, and it's actually kind of shocking how much pain (and oh God, even more arousal right after) radiates out from one little patch of leather meeting skin.

Emma hisses this time, managing to bite back a groan. Regina is a sight to see, chest heaving, crop back at her side and pressed against her thigh as she considers her next move. Emma looks her fill, drinking in the sight and wishing despite herself that Regina would lose the clothing altogether.

Something shifts, then, and Regina lets go of the riding crop instead of raising it to Emma's tender skin again. Emma drops her head in response, hoping it shows her continuing submission well enough. If Regina decides to be cruel (as she's so clearly capable of) and throw Emma out into the night unsatisfied, Emma isn't sure what she'll do.

"You want me," Regina says so softly that it might not even have happened. Emma wills her breathing to be quieter, tells her heart to stop pounding so loudly. "You want me," Regina repeats, and this time Emma definitely hears it, whether she's supposed to or not.

Emma could open her mouth again now, tell Regina that she understands the surprise, the always shocking moment of realizing that someone might want nothing more than just being with her, but it feels like a lie even as Emma thinks it. Because she wants more than being with Regina. Emma wants pain and conflict and something like forgetting, for a while. Regina can give her that, it seems. Regina can give her all that and some pretty intense sex on top of it, if the night so far is any indication.

"Please," Emma says again, mumbling the word into her own chest. Her hair is hanging down around her face, but she hears Regina's footsteps as she moves back towards Emma, sees Regina's perfect, classy shoes when they move into Emma's line of vision.

Regina runs her fingers through Emma's hair, and it's almost a caress until Regina's fingers reach the roots and she's tugging Emma's head up, exposing her throat to heated kisses that don't show even a hint of mercy.

"Regina," Emma murmurs, hoping Regina can feel the vibration of her own name beneath her lips. "Regina," Emma repeats, because right now that's all her world is; she doesn't know how to form any other word.

Regina continues to kiss Emma's neck, laving her tongue in long lines before settling on Emma's pounding pulse point and sucking hard enough to mark; Emma pushes herself against Regina's mouth, almost distracted enough not to feel Regina's hand slipping between Emma's legs once more.

This time, Regina is far more direct. Her fingertips seek out Emma's clit, working it with firm pressure for a delicious moment or two. Emma's trying to hide her hitched breathing, the happy little sobs, but it's pointless; even more so when Regina slides two slender fingers inside easily, showing off exactly how wet Emma is.

Emma's shoulders are starting to ache, and there's a shooting pain in the arch of both feet, but that all melts away as Regina bends her fingers.

"Regina," Emma says again, but this time Regina huffs in annoyance and withdraws her hand. Emma whimpers in disappointment, pressing herself against Regina in a silent plea for her fingers to return.

Instead Regina raises her wet fingers to Emma's mouth, running them over Emma's parted lips.

"Suck," she commands, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as Emma eagerly, greedily complies. She sucks Regina's fingers into her mouth and Emma proceeds to swirl her tongue over the sensitive fingertips while sucking on the damp, slightly sticky digits.

"Slut," Regina says, jerking her hand away suddenly. Emma bites down on her lip, accepting the assessment. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," Emma says instantly. Pride is a distant memory, at this point.

"I should have you on your knees," Regina murmurs, but she makes no move to release Emma. Instead, Regina returns her fingers to where Emma is craving them most, and this time when Regina pushes inside it's rougher, and three fingers that stretch Emma just enough to make the slight discomfort worth it. "Will you come for me?"

"Yes," Emma repeats, dropping her head back in frustration. She's so insanely close right now, and she has no idea which simple touch is going to be the one that sets her off like a rocket. It could be the fast, thrusting pressure of Regina's fingers. It could be the fact that Regina's cruel, beautiful mouth is now sucking and teasing at Emma's nipple, or it might be the deft thumb that's slowly working Emma's clit.

The answer, of course, when Emma comes with a scream and the lights explode behind her eyes, is that it's somewhere in the combination of the three.

Regina's hand stills as Emma clenches around her fingers. The intensity of her climax seems to stun them both into silence, but just as Emma is about to regain some of her sanity, Regina's hand begins to move again; this time, when her mouth seeks out Emma's other painfully hard nipple, Regina worries at it with her teeth, making Emma cry out and beg for more in the same garbled breath.

"Bitch!" Emma manages to gasp as Regina's thrusting fingers fuck her into a second orgasm, every bit as blinding as the first.

"Yes," Regina agrees, placing a steadying hand on Emma's hip as she wriggles her fingers free. "But you should stop calling me that, if you want me to let you down before your shoulders give out completely."


“Fine,” Emma snaps, jerking her wrists as a reminder. “So let me down.”

“Will you leave?” Regina asks, making no move to release Emma yet.

“Do you want me to?” Emma asks in return, feeling stupid and sated and ridiculous all at the same time.

“I thought perhaps…” Regina trails off, a frown crossing her features. Oh hell no, Emma is not letting this weird, infrequent insecurity blow things now.

“Regina?” Emma says, getting her attention. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve fucked you senseless. If that’s what you were worried about.”

“Oh,” Regina says, suppressing a grin as she reaches up to release Emma. “Well, when you put it that way.”
Emma doesn’t mean to, but when her arms are down again, she lets them (still bound) wrap around Regina’s neck. They kiss, for what is somehow the first time, and Emma’s impressed with how quickly it switches up from slow and tender to full-blown making out.

“Okay,” Emma says, pulling away just long enough to survey the basement. “That table looks pretty good right now.”

Regina stares at her for a moment, wide-eyed and a little stunned, maybe. Regina recovers quickly enough though, pulling Emma by the arm towards the waiting surface.

“Well, Miss Swan,” Regina says, reaching for the zipper on her dress. “Let’s see what you had in mind.”