Chapter Text
Regina still can’t quite believe that her life is the way it is now.
She looks down at Emma Swan, the probably-Savior, her nemesis, sprawled awkwardly across Regina’s unbuttoned sleep blouse with soft breath ghosting across Regina’s cleavage, clad in her terrible jacket and jeans pushed halfway down her thighs, because the deputy was foolish enough to fall asleep on Regina and Regina didn’t have the heart to wake her to make Emma escape out the window after their latest late-night ‘booty call’.
It’s ridiculous. Snow’s daughter, probably. Her son’s other mother. They should be at war. A vicious harridan trying to claw Regina’s child away. The cruel and hated Queen striking down the glowing beacon of Light.
…in a way, Regina supposes, she is beaten. Emma has conquered her heart like she’d thought nobody could again. The blonde is still talking with Henry, Regina knows. Emma tells her sometimes about Henry’s fantasies and weird coincidences around town. But ever since she walked in on an underwear-clad Emma in Granny’s bed and breakfast, and Emma invited Regina in with a cocky smirk on her lips…Regina has been able to deflect, to cajole, to ensure that Emma avoids the most obvious signs.
And she feels terrible about it.
Every lie, every question from Emma, every time they dropped Henry off at therapy…each one eats at her. She doesn’t know how much longer her dedication can hold out. Her revenge is twenty-eight years stale, and was hollow to begin with anyway. She’d forgotten what living felt like until she met her son for the first time, and now…now with two people who help her do more than just wake up and go through the motions, she’s getting increasingly tired of the cursed town.
Well, winding up Mary Margaret can inject a little of the old fire still, but Emma doesn’t like that and Regina has to admit the vindictive mood didn’t last the last few times she tried.
Regina strokes Emma’s hair, and the blonde shifts, one eye cracking open as she looks up at Regina. “Mmh. Hey, babe.”
“Good morning, Emma,” Regina murmurs, her fingers slipping again through pale locks. Emma turns her head and noses into Regina’s top, nudging it aside and off of the peak of one plump breast. Regina’s breath catches—her breasts have been growing more and more sensitive these past two weeks, and today they’re worse than ever, the slightest bit of pressure on them intensifying a faint ache that pulses deep within them. Emma stops, and pulls back.
“Something wrong?”
“My breasts…they are, oh, very sensitive today.”
Emma gives her a wicked smile. “Not too sensitive to be played with, though?”
Regina blushes deep, but nods indulgently. “Be gentle.”
“Always,” Emma husks, and lets herself back down to take the dark tip of Regina’s breast in her lips.
Regina sighs happily as Emma sucks in a slow, gentle rhythm. Emma loves to play with Regina’s breasts like this, to the point that it’s taking over their foreplay and pushing well into their sex time, and Regina has come to admit that she’s come to enjoy the feeling of the blonde’s warm lips on her sensitive flesh. There’s something warm and peaceful about just laying back and holding Emma as the blonde’s suckling tugs at her breasts in a steady rhythm. She closes her eyes, leaning back into her pillow with a sigh of contentment, and shivers slightly as a tingling sensation springs up deep within her breast, then surges towards her peak.
Emma gasps with surprise, pulling back again. Regina looks down, and sees…
On the tip of her prominent nipple, a drop of white fluid grows against the dark nub of her nipple. Regina sucks in a breath.
“Is that…”
“Milk?” Emma finishes. “Yeah. Looks like. I had it for a while after…after Henry.” She licks her lips. “Sorry. It looks…um. I don’t know how this could have happened.”
“Neither do I,” Regina murmurs. Her other breast tingles, and she sees a spot of wetness begin to form on her sleep blouse. She should be outraged. Or frantically researching illnesses that could cause this. But for some reason she just wants Emma’s touch. “Um. Well…get in there and deal with it, Miss Swan?”
Emma looks up at her, flushed deep red. “You…you’re serious?”
Regina bites her lip, blushing again herself. “Well…you’re the one who likes to suck on my breasts. You should accept the consequences.”
Emma huffs, but her eyes dart down to where the droplet of milk has flowed down the curve of Regina’s olive flesh and a new bead is already forming. “I…um. OK. You, uh, you drive a hard bargain, Madam Mayor.”
Somehow, Regina doubts that she needed to negotiate very hard. Emma’s lips close around her flesh again, and Regina moans softly as her lover begins to drain her.
An indescribable joy hits Regina then. The knowledge that her body can do this one, small motherly thing. The validation, the knowledge that she can nourish and feed someone with her own body…that she isn’t broken, or defective, at least in this way…it’s strangely life-affirming in a way Regina has never quite felt before.
She holds Emma to her instinctively, threading her fingers through blonde locks and clutching her nemesis, her son’s other mother, the second-best thing in her life right now, to her with a firm hand cupped around the back of Emma’s head. Emma’s hands come up awkwardly, one gently squeezing Regina’s as the other carefully massages Regina’s breast. Regina’s head falls back with a soft sigh, and her eyes close. For about five minutes, there’s nothing but her lover’s warm body, the pulsing lips on her nipple, and the sun’s rays slowly filtering in. Finally, Emma pulls back, and Regina shifts, blinking blearily down at her.
“I think it’s empty,” Emma rasps. It’s almost like she’s having trouble remembering how to form words. “Um. Is it OK if I do this for your other side?”
Regina nods without thinking. “Of course,” she finds herself saying. “It…it feels good.”
“Yeah? Sexy good?” There’s hesitancy in those sparkling eyes. Emma doesn’t want to have sex, Regina realizes. Which is odd, because normally the blonde is up for copulating with the energy of two rabbits, but not only does she seem out of the mood…but so is Regina.
“Not…not entirely?” Regina murmurs, then bites her lip. “Peaceful. I…I think. I haven’t felt this way since…since Henry was a baby.” It was an alien feeling, to hold someone who’d become your life, someone you’d die for in a heartbeat, and to have all your worries outside of them slip away as you focused on caring for them and felt your heart swell as they slept. Even before becoming Queen, with Daniel, everything had been tainted by fear, desperation, the constant anxiety of living with her never-to-be-sufficiently-accursed mother.
But with her Swans, it’s warm and good and pure, and her anxieties about Emma’s status in the narrative, Henry’s belief in the stories, it all seems to flow away when she holds her Emma.
“Hmm?” Emma asks, pulling aside the other side of Regina’s sleep shirt. “What do you mean?”
“Just…loving someone. Caring for them. Making someone my world.” Regina’s thumb brushes a blonde lock from Emma’s face. “I feel peaceful doing this with you. That’s the best way I can explain it.”
Emma gives her a smile, and it’s not the cocky smirk of Little Miss I’m Going To Fuck You Like The Hot Lady You Are, the sexy Emma who’d talked Regina out of her crisp Mayoral suit and underwear in three minutes flat, it’s something slower and softer and Regina knows in that moment that Emma has never given this smile to anyone else, at least not since she was the age Regina was when she realized that her mother wasn’t the way mothers are supposed to be. Regina strokes a thumb over Emma’s cheek, and the blonde’s lips part, and Regina feels like the most fortunate woman in all the realms.
She’d do it all again, she realizes. She’d do a thousand things infinitely worse than the worst things she’s done, burn worlds to the bedrock and slaughter uncounted nations, just to spend her life here, with Emma Swan, the woman who was probably born to destroy her, the woman who has destroyed her, has brought so much love into Regina’s life that the Queen’s iron resolve is failing.
“Nurse from me,” Regina murmurs. “Let me care for you.”
And Emma obeys.
(they’re relaxing afterwards when they hear their son open his door and walk down the hall to the bathroom, so Emma has to make a hasty exit via the window while he’s brushing his teeth, but Regina resolves to continue this…new thing, at a later date)
***
Regina’s phone beeps, and she looks down. Pumping time, it says. She slides her work away for a moment and stands, then walks over to lock her office door. Her privacy secured, she opens the new, dark purse that she bought last week, and pulls out the tight zippered bustier and machine she sent for the day she first lactated.
Emma doesn’t know yet that Regina’s trying to increase her milk supply. It’s going to be a surprise for Christmas; Regina’s going to bring her to bed for a special Christmas night and give her a dinner to remember. She’s still nursing Emma when they have time, which Emma seems to really enjoy, but their schedules have clashed horribly recently and Regina wants to get her production up to at least a full quart per day before they try to make this a daily thing rather than a special occasion thing.
Regina sets out her water bottle and sandwich first (she’s had to eat more than her usual salads now that she’s trying to build her production), shrugs off her jacket, blouse, and bra, slips on the bustier over her throbbing breasts (her body increasingly seems to anticipate her regular milking times, she barely even needs the timer anymore), and situates the cups over her areolae, then attaches the collecting bottles, the tubes, and the machine itself before plugging it in and turning it on.
It’s not as pleasant as Emma’s lips, but it gets the job done. The machine starts with a rapid pulse that makes Regina’s let-down come quickly as she puts her jacket back on (she isn’t topless in her office, she reassures herself), then settles into a deeper, throbbing pace that together with the steady whir of the machine settles Regina’s mind into a warm, contented state. Still nothing compared to having Emma atop her, but it helps her mood and she gets a good deal of paperwork done before her breasts run dry. She lets the machine run, despite getting no milk, for another five minutes before the cycle ends and she unhooks the contraption. She unscrews and caps the bottles, slips them into the locking mini-fridge she’s had installed under her desk (she got nearly half a cup from each breast, a definite improvement), cleans the cups with a cloth that she dampens from her water bottle, and finally takes off the uncomfortable bustier before putting away the pump parts into their secret home once more.
Regina takes a moment to heft her plump, veiny breasts before she puts her bra, top, and jacket back on. They’ve gotten bigger to accompany her growing production.
Emma, she thinks, is going to be happily surprised.
***
Regina “generously” offers to have Emma over for Christmas dinner, which earns her a suspicious look from her son, but she successfully evades his curiosity all day despite having to take half an hour off of cooking to pump in her room. When Emma arrives, they are cordial, almost friendly, which Regina appreciates; she has no idea how Henry will react to their new relationship, and it’s good of Emma to go along with her wishes to keep things a secret. She has prepared a bottle of cider as a gift for Emma, and she works as hard as she can to act neutral when Emma pulls a gift-wrapped book about caring for apple trees out of her coat.
Despite her obvious hunger, Emma eats lightly. She replied to Regina’s email asking her to do so with several questioning emojis, but again…Regina is thankful for her compliance.
As dinners go, Regina’s had worse. Emma tells several stories that brush up against the line of inappropriate, but carefully avoids bits that would actually set Regina off. Regina generously permits Henry to spend more time around Emma, earning her a soft smile from the blonde.
But it’s afterwards that the fun really begins. Regina claims that her guest room is unprepared and thus Emma has no option but to room with her. Henry is suspicious but Regina is full of certainty. Emma agrees readily, but insists that they both hug in front of their son to demonstrate their new accord. Regina blushes, Henry again looks suspicious, and Emma weaponizes a pout so effectively that Regina finds herself unfolding and sinking into Emma’s embrace despite her reservations.
“I’m going to get an earful tomorrow,” Emma murmurs as they head to Regina’s room after putting their son to bed. “He still thinks you’re some fairy-tale villain and I’m supposed to fight you.”
Regina hums in response, but can’t prevent the pain from showing on her face. Where has she gone wrong with her son, that he thinks his birth mother should kill Regina? He’s right about the fairy-tale nonsense, of course, and Regina’s heart aches every time she drops him off at therapy, but she’s raised him for almost his entire life! What did she do wrong?
Emma’s hand laces with hers. “Hey,” her nemesis murmurs. “We’ll figure it out. He’s your kid, more than he’s ever been mine.”
“I…” Regina chokes on her words, and squeezes the blonde’s hand as they enter her bedroom. “For his sake, I can share? More equitably?”
“Whatever works for you,” Emma promises, gently kissing Regina’s forehead. Tears spring into Regina’s eyes, and Emma reaches up to brush them away with her thumbs. “Hey. What did you want to show me?”
“After we change,” Regina insists, and pulls away, sniffling.
“Alright,” Emma murmurs, and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to unzip the backpack she brought as Regina hastily takes her burning cheeks to the bathroom.
Regina’s sleep outfit is a soft silk button-up, gentle against her increasingly sensitive nipples, and a pair of soft cotton underwear. Emma…Regina’s eyes go wide when she sees Emma, because the deputy apparently wears nothing but a pair of off-white, slightly ragged-looking panties to bed.
“Oh,” escapes Regina’s lips. She’s seldom had the time to just admire Emma in the nude or near-nude before. Emma prefers to have sex with most of her clothes on, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Now she’s bare and vulnerable and Regina can see the scars and stretch marks and she’s sure she’s never loved Emma more than she does right now.
“Sorry,” Emma says, wrapping her arms around her taut abs and firm little breasts. “I, uh. I travel light.”
And she’s been hovering around the edge of poverty for years. Regina steps forward without hesitation, and this time kisses Emma’s forehead. “Well, that most certainly won’t do. We’ll have to get you some new clothing now that you’re going to be staying in town and filling an important role.”
“You…” Emma’s eyes are wet with tears. “I can’t impose.”
“You are my son’s other mother, leaving you with insufficient clothing and sleepwear would be unacceptable.” Regina’s hands stroke down Emma’s arms, tugging the blonde towards her bed by the wrists. “Come here. I want to show you your real present.”
“Alright,” Emma sniffles. Regina climbs into bed, Emma following with a huff, and scoots up against the headboard.
“Come and…” No. That strikes the wrong tone. “Here, unbutton me.”
There’s the Sexy Emma smirk, just for a moment. “You want me to unwrap you, Madam Mayor?”
“Just my top,” Regina rasps. Emma complies, and gasps when she sees Regina’s swollen, aching bosom.
“Oh! Are you feeling OK?”
“Yes,” Regina murmurs. “This is the rest of your dinner. And desert.”
“Oh,” Emma whispers. “You…you kept it up for…for me?”
“More than that,” Regina says with a blush. “I’m up to nearly a pint a day from each side. I, um. Want this to be longer-term. If you’ll have me.”
There are tears in Emma’s eyes again. “You mean it?” she croaks, and she sounds so small and young that Regina’s heart breaks all over again. “You…want me? For…for a while?”
“For as long as you’ll have me,” Regina promises, and she’s a fool, she’s a lovesick fool burning up her life again for the vain hope of happiness, but Emma lunges up and kisses her on the lips and she can’t bring herself to care about what a fool she is because Emma is there and around her and sobbing desperately into her mouth and she just holds the blonde, accepting and responding to her frantic kisses until Emma finally tires and pulls back. “Come on,” Regina murmurs, reaching down with one hand to unbutton her now-damp top (she’s leaked into it, but she can’t bring herself to care). “I think you’ll like the results of my work.”
“Alright,” Emma sniffles, and slides down Regina’s body to wrap her lips around one turgid peak.
Regina gasps, then sighs as Emma begins to suckle, the tingling spreading through her breast as her milk begins to flow in earnest. She strokes a hand through Emma’s hair, caressing her lover, her nemesis, this beautiful, scarred, ferocious picture of a woman who she craves to care for with a desperate ache that tears at her heart, as the blonde drinks her milk, Emma’s taut muscles slowly relaxing under Regina’s other hand as she rubs gently over Emma’s shoulders. A trickle of milk begins to run down Regina’s other breast, and she pulls her hand from Emma’s back to wipe up the trail with her thumb. She licks the fluid off; it’s sweet, thin, and Regina briefly wonders if that’s why Emma likes to nurse from her.
No, she realizes as she watches Emma, arms wrapped around Regina’s ribcage as she nurses, the lines of the blonde’s face softening with each suckle, her eyes shut as she breathes slower and more evenly across Regina’s chest. Emma wants this because it's bringing her peace and security. Two things her life has lacked for far too long.
“I love you,” Regina realizes, warmth suffusing her as the lips on her breast slowly reduce her to a sleepy trance. Emma’s eyes crack open, and Regina smiles down at her. “I shouldn’t. But I do.” She brushes a tear from Emma’s cheek with one thumb. “As long as you want this to go on,” Regina promises. “Now please finish up on that side and drink from my other breast before I leak onto the sheets, they’re rather expensive.”
Emma huffs out a little chuckle without really letting go of Regina’s breast, and Regina knows, deep down, that they’re going to be alright. At least for a little while.
Emma ends up falling asleep on Regina again. Regina supposes that a stomach full of warm milk will do that. She isn’t at all surprised that Emma asks to stay longer-term over breakfast (Regina accepts on the spot), but she is happy. And that is more than worth it.
Perhaps, Regina muses as she pumps over lunch the next day, she should start inviting Emma to her office to share lunch. Regina could do with a little cuddling and intimacy in the middle of her daily grind, and she’s sure Emma wouldn’t mind something healthier than a bear claw and coffee.