“I wasn’t aware this cabin existed,” said Regina, reclining languidly in front of the fireplace, head supported on one arm.
“Well, Madame Mayor, I’m afraid what you aren’t aware of would fill—”
“Don’t you dare , Miss Swan. Don’t you dare make such a hackneyed joke at my expense!” Regina’s voice held a warning but there was a hint of playfulness underneath.
Emma’s laughter filled the small wooden cabin. She poked her head around the small screen that separated the tiny kitchenette from the rest of the place to look at Regina lying in front of the fireplace, bathed in the golden glow of fire and covered by a woefully immodest linen sheet. Her short, dark hair was mussed and her skin glowed from the after-effects of their love making. Emma couldn’t hold back the smirk that spread across her face.
“Mary Margaret told me about it,” she said, slowly, carefully licking the spoon she had been using to stir the cocoa in their mugs, watching with satisfaction as Regina’s lips parted and the tip of her tongue came out to lick at them, the rise and fall of her chest becoming a little more laborious.
“Oh,” said Regina, her eyes locked with Emma’s.
“Yeah. When she and David…” Emma let the sentence hang.
“Well,” said Regina, looking away and running a hand through her hair, gaining back control. “I’m glad you’re learning at the hand of the best, at least,” she said, meaning anything but.
“Hey, c’mon,” said Emma, this time stepping out from behind the screen, clad only in her lace panties and Regina’s short, white shirt. “Give the poor woman some space, okay?” She brandished a cocoa-crusted finger at Regina.
“If you say so, dear,” said Regina, gazing at her through dark lashes.
Emma went back behind the screen to finish her task. There was silence except for the middle of the night sounds of the forest around the cabin filtering in from under the door and through the windows.
“Are you making out with that cocoa or something?” Regina called out after a few minutes passed, a note of impatience entering her voice.
“Mayyy be,” came the vague reply.
“Might I remind you, dear, of the much more interesting choices available?”
“You might,” it was graciously allowed, making Regina’s patience simmer. She got up from the rug with a jerk, wrapping the linen sheet haphazardly around herself, and marched over to the kitchenette. She watched Emma stir cocoa into a cup, put the spoon into her mouth and pick up the canister of whipped cream.
“Well?” said Regina from behind her.
Emma turned, spoon in mouth, to look at Regina who chose precisely that moment to let go of the sheet wrapped around her body. It slid to the floor with a sigh, pooling around Regina’s legs. The spoon and the whipped cream canister met the floor with slightly different pitched but equally ungainly sounds.
“I didn’t mean in person,” said Emma in a strangled voice.
“Didn’t you?” said Regina conversationally, stepping forward.
“Mmmf!” or something close to it was the noise that came out of Emma’s throat before Regina was upon Emma, her hands cupping the blonde’s face, fingers sinking into the golden curls as she kissed away the smudges left by the cocoa on Emma’s lips.
By the time Emma could think of protesting or suggest going back to the rug, Regina had hoisted her up onto the counter, her body — deliciously warm from sitting in front of the fire — was pressed against Emma’s, and her hands were busy removing all and any items of clothing that might hamper her way. Emma could do nothing but watch as the expensive white shirt was slid off her own shoulders, hastily rolled into a ball and thrown unceremoniously back. When her panties were treated the same way, Emma gave up and wrapped her arms and legs around the other woman, bringing her closer, reveling in the feel of her skin and returning the arduous kisses with equal fervor.
Needless to say, the whipped cream was put to much better uses that night.