Are Those Fangs Or Are You Just Happy To See Me update (Patreon)

Regina really had to stop crowing about her magical powers. Her fashion sense. Even her boobs. Clearly, the most impressive thing about her was that she was the most aggravating person in the universe. It was like she lived her life as an exercise in frustration. Emma’s frustration.

And Emma was hot! She knew she was a good lay! And she knew Regina was into her, because the woman was not that good an actress, with all the side-eyes and winks and grins and little sarcasms. And she called Emma crass? Because of one little apple tree that’d gotten chainsawed? One smirk from Regina made that incident look like the picture of discretion.

There they were, not girlfriends certainly, but far from being nothing… well into being something. Once the orgasms got into the double digits, you were fooling yourself if you thought it wasn’t a real relationship. Emma had made a bet with Regina about how fast she could cure the vampirism, Regina had cured it, and after several orgiastic bloodletting sessions to keep Emma fed while she was a creature of the night, you’d think Regina would’ve gotten the memo that this was a good time for more naughty shenanigans.

Oh, Emma would whine about it, certainly—make fun of how kinky Regina was, of course—but at the end of the day… or the next five minutes… Emma would be doing whatever Regina asked of her and enjoying the hell out of it.

Was that so hard? Could they not get so much as that lined up? Because at first, Regina had seemed to have her finger on the pulse. She’d shown Emma a picture. Two women. One in smart business attire, seated on top of a desk, while the other was more casually dressed, figuratively and literally underneath the first woman as she crouched down and ate out her crisply dressed mistress.

The inference was obvious. The room even looked like Regina’s office, which Emma was sure hadn’t seen any such slutty action, but this was a special occasion, so why not? Regina could get off on her smug sense of superiority, Emma could just get off—why did this have to be a fucking ordeal?

But Regina had just showed Emma the picture, happily let her mind drift through the implications, even ran her hand leadingly down Emma’s spine… before plucking the picture back out of her hand.

“But of course, Emma, after being incommunicado for so long, you must want to get back to your friends and family and reassure them with your humanity. I wouldn’t dream to keep you from that. Go on now, Emma. We’ll circle around to concluding our business later.”

“We can’t just get it over with?” Emma pressed, trying to compensate for the longing she felt with an excess of butch.

“We could.” Regina patted Emma’s ass. “We really could. But we won’t. I have you under my thumb now, Miss Swan, and I intend to keep you down there for a good long while. I can always seduce you, but knowing I have you at my beck and call…” Regina gave Emma’s backside a loud swat. “I’m not going to let that go to waste.”

Emma took a deep breath. That might be the truth. Or it might be that Regina’s feelings were running rampant under the surface and she was covering for that. Nothing was ever simple with Regina. Everything was mixed up with everything else which was further mixed up with just… an entirely third shade of everything.

So if Regina was uncomfortable and just didn’t want to admit it, Emma wouldn’t push her.

But goddamn, did the woman have to be so annoying about it? Did she have to make Emma’s clit do things you’d think she’d need a Flemish sex toy to accomplish before she said ‘Not tonight, dear, I have a headache’ in Regina-ese? Did she have to act like a goddamn sex goddess just because she looked like one? Fucked like one?

Not that Emma was a slouch. Clearly, if she were a disappointment in that department, Regina wouldn’t be bothering with the whole rigmarole. But Christ…

“One week,” Emma said firmly. “After that, you might as well burn that picture, because it’s not happening.”

Regina just smirked at her. Maybe an ‘I was already planning to fuck you before the week was out’ smirk. Maybe a ‘we both know that I could freeze you out for a year and you’d still act out my impeccably dressed sexual fantasy with me’ smirk. Or maybe that look had just frozen on Regina’s face at some point and she had to make an effort to give any other facial expression. Resting smirk face.

So Emma leaned in close enough that Regina could hear her when she spoke at a whisper: “And for your sake, I hope your cunt tastes as good as your blood.”

When Emma straightened, eyes flicking up to meet Regina’s gaze, the Mayor quickly looked away.

She might’ve been able to bring Emma’s ovaries to a boil, but Emma could do the same thing right back at her. And that was what Emma was going to leave Regina thinking about, not the fact that she had a sexual favor held over Emma’s head.

Except that as she walked away, Emma felt Regina’s eyes on her ass. She could’ve sworn she even heard a wolf-whistle, but when she looked back, Regina was the picture of innocence.

Well. Smirking innocence.

What was she to Regina? Was that the point of all this, what Regina wanted her to ponder during this fucking weird-ass dry spell? They weren’t quite friends—not as much as that and not as little as that either.

Emma didn’t trust Regina… not when both her mind and her mother told her not to… but she could count on her. In her gut, she relied on the woman the same way she relied on the ground to keep holding her up and air to keep filling her lungs. But Regina was so fucking annoying!

Was it love? Could you be in love with the person who made you the angriest you’d ever been in the world? Maybe that was the only kind of love there was…

And though Emma didn’t hate Regina… didn’t think she was physically capable of it… she definitely hated the fact that Regina had successfully contrived to have Emma think-think-thinking about her all day long, the freakin’ narcissist. And what’s worse, Emma would’ve done the same if they’d just fucked, because she was also still thinking about what had happened when she was under the influence of that highly literal bloodlust.

So maybe Regina—and her clear inferiority complex—sold herself short. Or maybe she didn’t want Emma to just think of her as a sex object. Maybe she wanted Emma to see her as… or maybe that was Emma just romanticizing whatever the hell it was that they were doing.

Was it that this thing was too big for that neat little box of love or that Emma didn’t want to admit such a complicated-seeming thing was really so simple?

Either way, Regina was aggravation incarnate. Pure goddamn frustration. Which made Emma wonder all the more why she looked forward so much to Regina finally calling on her.