A/N: And here is the final chapter. It's rated M for Lesbians. Also un-beta'd. Happy reading!
This, I Find In You
Chapter 12: Family
After they'd returned from Gold's, Regina had wandered off on some flimsy pretext to give Snow some time to speak with Emma.
Twenty minutes later she'd received a text from Snow saying that she was taking herself and Henry to the B&B to keep Granny company and Regina had arrived at the apartment to find the door unlocked. She quietly pushed the door open and leaned against the door-frame, feeling ever so awkward.
She hadn't realised that Emma had known she was there until she'd spoken.
"So, she told you, huh?"
Regina's chest tightened. She sounded so small. "I... I am so sorry."
Emma shrugged. "I know."
Regina stepped into the room and placed both hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently.
"It's not your fault, Emma." She felt the solitary sob as a tremor, and her hand was covered by one of Emma's, her grip desperate.
"...I know." Regina leaned over, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, holding their clasped hands over the other woman's heart, pressing her nose into unruly blonde curls.
"I'm not going anywhere." She felt the nod and tightened her embrace.
The quiet moment seemed to stretch on and on, and Emma gave a deep sigh. It shuddered a little, but it was ultimately a noise of contentment and that knowledge warmed Regina in a way she was no longer loath to acknowledge.
Emma felt good in her arms. Emma felt... right.
She relinquished her hold a little and spun the bar stool around so that the two of them were face-to-face. Emma stared at the way her hands looked, resting on the lapels of Regina's blazer, and smiled softly. Regina placed her hands on Emma's forearms and pulled her a little closer, dipping her head to catch her eye.
"You're going to be okay." She took a half-step closer and dropped her hands to rest on Emma's thighs. "We... we're going to be okay."
Emma nodded and slipped her hands around her waist, drawing her in to stand in the space between her knees, pressing her face into her neck.
"Yeah..." she said after a moment, "we are."
Regina allowed a smile of her own to cross her face and returned the embrace, relishing the warmth against her skin and within her soul. It was almost enough to cause her to forget what the cold of loneliness felt like. It was certainly enough to make her forget the rest of the world, at least for a while. The steady rhythm of breath against her chest, the strength of the arms that held her, the faint scent of flowers in her hair...
In that moment Emma was the whole of her universe, a reality she never thought she'd get to experience, not ever again.
"You smell good." Regina chuckled, and Emma nuzzled in closer, lips smiling against her collarbone.
"Thank you, dear."
She feels the kiss at the base of her throat just as Emma hooks her calves around the back of her legs.
The kiss turns into a lick, turns into a bite and her hum of satisfaction turns into a moan that wells up from deep within and escapes her lips uncensored.
Hands slide down to cup her ass in a way that it utterly possessive and utterly sinful, and Regina's fingers wind themselves tight into blondes curls.
There's not a sliver of daylight between them and the heat of her body ignites the heat in her loins.
Regina's sure that Emma can feel her nipples pressing into her because she can damn well feel Emma's and the thought of what lies behind buttons and zippers coaxes her hand down the back of her jeans. She can't get very far - because damn, they're tight - but she gets far enough. The touch of her fingers against bare flesh makes her brain short-circuit.
She takes a step back, and for a second Emma is bewildered by the break in their connection, but then Regina heaves her out of the chair and she's only just managed to not fall flat on her face before she's being dragged up the stairs in a stumbling waltz punctuated by wandering hands and fiery kisses.
Emma growls and Regina laughs.
It's a distraction, she knows it's a distraction. But it's comfort, too. She needs it, and after a week from hell she damn well deserves it too.
They both do.
The events of the day have left her love in a fragile state, but they can go over both of their deep-seated emotional issues with a fine toothed comb later.
But for now, with every touch of her hands, every kiss of her lips she endeavours to engrave her message into the her skin of her beloved.
We belong together.
They nearly fall through the door of Emma's bedroom and then Regina presses her back up against it. She traces her features with a trembling hand, communicating the content of her soul with her eyes, willing her to see the depth of her emotion.
I belong to you.
When they're lips reconnect it's open mouthed and messy and Regina's going to damn well devour her whole if she's not careful. One half of her is ready to go right ahead and have her up against the wall, but another part of her reasons that that would make it almost impossible to spread her out like she wants to. Guided by her better instincts she grabs a fistful of Emma's shirt and, walking backwards, pulls her towards the bed and spinning them, pushes her down on the mattress, hurriedly hiking up her skirt so as to straddle her better.
You belong to me.
Their eyes lock and a moment stretches between them.
Regina doesn't know quite how to articulate to her the fact that no one and nothing - not in the heavens or under them, not in this realm or any other, not in this life or the next - could cause her to abandon her, not ever.
...What comes out instead is, "Your ass is mine, Swan."
She hadn't meant the sentiment to come out sounding quite so domineering, but then she watches Emma lick her lips and swallow hard, her pupils blown wide, and can't help but to smirk. She settles herself down, her core nearly-but-not-quite connecting with denim, hissing lightly when Emma's hips buck reflexively beneath her. It would be so easy to grind down, but as she opens her eyes Regina reminds herself - Emma comes first, no pun intended.
Regina decides to open with a disappearing act, the items of clothing between them seeming to vanish beneath her hands. It's not as slow and tender as she had imagined (and damn, has she imagined) but the act of disrobing Emma is as intense as anything she's experienced before. She's moving hastily and her dexterity is hampered by just how aroused she is (those buttons can get sown back on later), but time seems to slow.
Item by item, layer by layer, Emma Swan becomes opened to her.
By the time she has those skinny jeans down around her ankles Regina can hardly breathe.
Her head's thrown back, her spine arched, eyes closed, writhing with need.
She's beautiful... and she's hers.
The thought is toe-curling.
Regina crawls up Emma's body and their gazes lock.
She sees her name appear on those lips and it sends a jolt of desire to her sex. If she hadn't already soaked through her panties, well... she has now.
She leans down and kisses and sucks and licks a path from her collarbone down between the valley of her breasts.
Regina hears her name becomes a breathless chant and the surge of raw emotion that assaults her heart at the sound is bewildering.
Her mouth is vigorous in it's pursuit of Emma's pleasure, she can feel the fingers digging into her hair, they way that they tighten when she bites.
For a second she loses herself in the sounds and sensations and the fact that when she tugs at her nipples just so Emma's voice slides up half an octave...
But then the chant become a plea because it seems that, while soft and tender can come later, Emma Swan needs to come now.
She lets her hand drift down, brushing across her rib cage, resting it for a moment on the thigh that's wrapped around her waist.
It seems so primitive, so... primal, the thought of claiming someone. It's exactly what she intends to do.
Her fingers push past fabric and dip into liquid heat and Regina loses what's left of her restraint.
She growls deep in her throat - primitive, primal.
Emma's so wet, so ready... and it's all for her.
All of it.
Regina stroke up and down along the length of her cunt, glancing over her clit, and she's a firm touch that has Emma howling and babbling.
It's almost enough to make her come. Almost.
And then she slides in, two fingers, curling upwards and Emma's pulling at her hair and grabbing at her back and when she begins to thrust Emma pulls Regina up, away from her breasts, and she buries her face in Regina's neck.
Regina can feel the tension building within Emma's body, can feel the way her walls are beginning to flutter around her fingers.
With every breath out Emma breathes her name, and with every breath in she inhales her scent.
This moment may not be slow or tender, but goddamn... it's intimate.
And when she presses their cheeks together to whisper in her ear, Regina realises that Emma's cheeks are wet.
She only whispers one word, because there's really only one word that she can coherently think.
When Emma comes, it's glorious.
Regina's sworn by all of the gods at least once in her life, but she's never believed in any of them till now.
There's a moment of perfect peace, when all of the noise within their heads are silent, and Regina holds Emma. Her fingers have eased their movement, drawing out the last shudders of Emma's climax and, when she finally withdraws them, she rolls onto her back, bringing Emma with her. Emma's crying and laughing and trying to apologise for crying but Regina won't hear any of it and she rocks her gently, stroking her hair.
When her breathing calms, and she's returned back to earth and back to herself, Emma returns the embrace and presses a kiss to the centre of her sternum. She pulls herself up so that they're eye to eye, brushes her fingers though Regina's hair and kisses her sweetly. Emma doesn't voice the thanks that Regina sees in her eyes and feels in her kiss because it's not the most romantic sentiment, but she gently strokes her cheek and Regina understands.
Thank-you for staying.
Thank-you for loving me.
Thank-you for claiming me as your own.
Emma's kisses are gentle and reverent, each one burns, each one heals.
Regina's never had what could ever be called a "healthy sexual relationship" and it's stupid... it's stupid, and a terrible time to bring that up, especially when Emma's being so sweet and so unlike anything she's ever experienced. She's never mentioned her secret pain to anyone, but it seems that her lover is more intuitive that she's given her credit for, because why else would she pause to breathe reassurances in her ear? Reassurances that would be completely unnecessary for anyone else?
"Hey... are you- is this... is this okay?"
Regina's never had anyone ask for her permission before, it's not until she notices that Emma's propped up on one elbow and holding completely still that she realises that she's actually being serious and that realisation sends her mind reeling. Their eyes meet and Emma gives her a little smile, like she understands what it is that she's feeling, like it's all going to be okay, no matter what she decides, because all she wants is to love her.
It's not until she gives Emma a nod that her kisses resume.
Her head falls back onto the pillow as Emma's lips meander across her skin. There's no hurry, no rush - it's all an outpouring of adoration and affection and delight. She can feel Emma's joy and it's dizzying, it's nigh-on sacred. Emma's just so damned pleased and Regina can hardly believe that she's pleased with her.
She undoes her buttons with one hand and smirks against that spot behind her ear, the one that apparently makes her inner thigh twitch when sucked upon. The air is cool against her skin, and Emma's hand is warm and she feels so naked, but it's okay because this is Emma and being vulnerable isn't a frightening thing any more. Emma doesn't hold her like she's made of glass - she holds her like she's made of gold and Regina's glad of that. She's not some delicate flower and doesn't want to be treated that way, but Emma's touch makes her feel real, feel present, feel precious.
Her hands are slightly calloused, and her fingers trace nonsense patterns down and around her navel, leaving a trail of goose bumps in her wake, before stroking up her side and cupping her breast. Through the thin lace, Regina can feel the warmth of her palm, and Emma's palm can feel her taught nipple pressing into it, and she kneads it, seeming to glory at the weight of it, enraptured by the way she reacts to it, the way the little noises she makes get stuck in the back of her throat. Emma kneads a little harder and they both can't bear to be separated by lace any longer. Regina pushes herself up a little in order to get rid of her shirt and she's not going to ask where Emma learned to un-clip a bra single-handed because, really, it's an excellent skill to have and it makes everything so much quicker.
When she settles back down upon the bed Emma settles in-between her thighs and her hips roll up to meet her. It's an instinct she finds she has - anything to be closer to the woman - and for a second they lie there, reveling in the feeling of the other's body, of being connected head to foot. Emma's positively melting into her - gods, they're melting into each other - and Regina finds it's a pleasant change to think of her body as being a welcoming place.
Emma's thumb flicks over her nipple - once, twice - before she grasps it and rolls it, tugging gently, and Regina arches up into the touch because fuck... and then she has to bury her hands in Emma's hair because her lips have just latched onto her other nipple and her tongue is hot and teasing the peak to a higher point and when she does that thing with her teeth she just really needs something to hold onto before she flies away.
Her breathing is laboured and ragged and she smells sex and when Emma begins to shimmy down her body, little by little, it blows her mind. She licks and sucks and bites her way across the smooth expanse of her stomach and while she'd never really considered that area to be an erogenous zone she's quickly having her mind changed especially when a hot tongue dips inside her navel.
She looks down and Emma looks up and she's got that look of mischief in her eye that, in any other context, Regina would find exasperating.
But this isn't any other context.
She rears back up on her knees and Regina will give credit where credit is due, because Emma really does try really to maintain eye contact when she's drawing her lace panties down her legs. Her eyes drop to the apex of her thighs and Regina averts her eyes. She knows it's ridiculous, but this feels like the last veil, the last barrier between them, and there's only so much damage that tender words can undo and she can't bear the thought of being a disappointment, not now, not to Emma.
"No matter how hard I try to please the king... he will never love me as he loved his first wife..."
Regina can't bear the silence and tries to close her thighs, tries to hide away from her gaze, but Emma stops her with a gentle hand to her knee and Regina returns her eyes to Emma's face.
She's still staring with a dazed look in her eye, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
She looks like a woman that's seen the face of God.
Their eyes reconnect and Emma's dazed expression is exchanged for one of disbelief, her eyes asking "...for me?"
Regina's smile is one part relief, one part affection and one part permission and her lover scoots further down the bed and licks her lips.
But now Emma's pressing a path of open-mouthed kisses up the inside of her thigh and suddenly Regina's mouth is dry.
And it's not that she's a prude, far from it, but this... this is quite... unprecedented.
She's slick and swollen and throbbing and her thighs are over Emma's shoulders and Emma's inhaling her scent like she's a vintage wine.
The visual alone is stunning.
But then Emma's mouth is on her sex and... just how exactly is she supposed to breath, again?
With one broad swipe Emma licks her, stem to stern, and with a yelp, Regina's body jack-knifes off the bed, her hands grabbing fistfuls of blonde hair and she's not sure whether she wants to push Emma's mouth away, or pull her closer and grind up into it.
Neither reaction has a chance to win because Emma's hands are holding her still - she's going to take her time savouring her.
Regina's thighs are locked around her head and she's never been one to be very noisy in bed - old habits die hard - but when Emma inclines her head to feast upon her she can't help the moan that turns into a wail and pours from between her lips because Emma's mouth is magic, and she can feel herself filling up with light and it feels like she's going to burst apart at the seams.
She's a bow string at full draw and her last coherent thought is about how True Love's kiss has never felt so good, because she was beginning to see stars before Emma decided to get her fingers involved and when they do, her seams fail to hold her together and her bliss breaks all the laws of physics.
When she comes to, she is utterly boneless and the rhythm of the heart beating beneath her ear is almost enough to lull her to sleep again.
She's warm and she's safe and lying all over a beautiful woman and using her breasts as a pillow and really, what more could she want out of life?
She's in heaven.
Le petite mort, indeed.
"Welcome back." Regina can hear the smirk in her voice and nuzzles further into her pillow.
"Well..." Emma doesn't need to finish her sentence and Regina sighs contentedly. She could almost purr with the way Emma's stroking her fingertip over the skin of her shoulders and back. Regina seeks out Emma's hand and interlaces their fingers, bringing them to her lips and Emma mirrors the gesture.
She can feel that Emma's about to say something, can feel her hesitance in saying it, so she lies still and waits for her to speak.
"Mmmm?" She squeezes her hand encouragingly.
"Will you... would you be my family? You and Henry?"
It feels like a proposal, and it is, and it feels like a bigger deal than marriage.
She's been married before, but she's not had a family before, not one filled with love, where no one's left behind.
Regina lifts her head to look Emma square in the eye.
"White picket fence?"
Her face breaks into a ridiculous grin and she doesn't realise that she's crying until Emma's wiping her tears away.
The light she feels within is home to stay.
"Yes, Emma. Gods... Yes."
A/N: Hey, look - I finished a thing! I hope that this was an adequate finale, let me know your thoughts.
Thanks to everyone for sticking with this little story of mine (that grew into quite a larger story than the three chapters I had intended) everyone's been so lovely and I adore the lot of you! If you want to say "hi" on tumblr, you can find me as wishful-thinkment