Regan and Emma - Naughty (Patreon)

And the Cassmas advent calendar continues!

I love that people comment that the nice stories have moments that feel naughty and the naughty stories have moments that feel nice. Look, it's my goal for all of the couples in the HCLU to be sweet and sexy, all of the time. The naughty v nice really just means - will there be a full-blown sex scene or not lol

Who could have possibly predicted that Regan would end up being... the most - you'll see.

--------- Regan and Emma ----------

“Take that, triv-bros,” Regan muttered, victoriously, scoffing with a darkly gleeful chuckle. “No one knows the beats of a Home Alone movie better than I do. No one.”

Emma’s answering laugh was both amused and exasperated, as she gently dropped her hand to Regan’s thigh. “Easy, killer.”

Regan swiveled in her barstool to face Emma, her mouth dropping open in offense as she stared at her girlfriend. “Emma, come on! Admit it, babe; you’re thrilled that we beat those dick bags.”

She stared, unwavering, at her girlfriend’s face, waiting for the confirmation she knew she would get. Try as Emma might, it was too late for her; Regan knew her.

And Regan had known since long before they’d started coming to trivia six weeks ago at the bar near their apartment, that Emma loved to win. It was something they had in common. In fact, Regan would argue that Emma liked to win even more than Regan did.

She knew that Emma felt just as pleased as she did about them beating the group of guys that also frequented the bar for trivia every week, for the first time. Emma just had more social graces than Regan did, and she could admit that without issue.

She caught and held eye contact with Emma’s sharp baby blues, until Emma finally nodded, conceding, “Yes, okay, I am glad. And your line-by-line knowledge of classic holiday movies was both impressive and alarming, but came in very useful.” As she spoke, she gently squeezed Regan’s thigh.

And Regan felt the warmth from both the touch and Emma’s words filter through her. “Thank you very much. I had a feeling holiday trivia night was going to be our time.”

“If you had fun tonight, I hope you’re planning on coming back for holiday karaoke on Christmas Eve,” Brandon, their regular bartender, said as he sidled up to them, and slid them the $25 gift card as their trivia win.

The tip of his nose was colored with a bright red circle as an homage to Rudolph, as to stay on theme with the evening at the bar – any team that came dressed up for any holiday tonight got an extra two points for their team score. Which was great for Regan, because she’d already planned on wearing the headband she’d found at the store that had cute, pointy ears and a little elf hat that sprouted from the top.

The fact that they’d gotten bonus points for her wearing it was just… well, a bonus.

It was less than a week until Christmas! Of course she was going to accessorize for the occasion!

They’d started coming to trivia here last month, as one of the date nights Emma had planned for them. And they’d started coming back every week since.

And, honestly, Regan was absolutely tickled at the domesticity of it.

She and her girlfriend, who were in love, were regulars at a neighborhood bar for trivia every week! Regular enough to the point that Brandon-the-bartender knew their drink orders by now!

She snatched the gift card and held it to her chest like a treasure. A symbol of their win! And she heard Emma’s low chuckle, which only made her smile even bigger. She was so – undeniably – pleased with herself, whenever she made Emma laugh like that.

“Brandon, we will absolutely be at holiday karaoke,” she affirmed.

Because not only were they regulars for weekly trivia, but Regan had been delighted to learn that the bar also hosted karaoke every week! Due to her work schedule, they sometimes missed karaoke, but Regan was fairly positive that her performance skills had made her a fairly memorable attendee regardless of that fact.

Biting at her bottom lip, she slid her gaze toward Emma, who groaned softly and reached up to rub at her eyes.

She turned back to Brandon to announce with no small amount of excitement, “Emma has agreed to sing with me!”

Emma groaned, a little louder, at the same time that Brandon, the wonderful human he was, gasped in shocked. “No way!”

“No way,” another voice cut in from behind them, dripping with disbelief.

Regan and Emma always sat front and center at the bar – hence, their close relationship with Brandon. Not only for the easy proximity to grab a drink, but also because Emma – strategically – had informed Regan that she liked the fact that they could lean in close and discuss their trivia answers without anyone being able to overhear them.

See? Competitive as hell.

Regan liked being able to sit next to Emma and scoot her stool in as close as possible regardless of their trivia game, so it was a win-win situation.

She felt Emma’s hand on her thigh squeeze tightly over her jeans, and she dropped her eyes down to it in question, before she swiveled to turn around to see who had joined them.

It didn’t matter that Regan had only ever laid eyes on this woman one time in her life, or that their interaction had been very brief, or that it had been months ago.

Felicity Hammond stood right there. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail that fell down her back in waves, and her dark blue eyes had an interested gleam in that that immediately rubbed Regan the wrong way.

Especially as she eyed Emma closely, her lips curling in an incredulous smile. “Emma? You’ll be singing holiday karaoke?”

The hand Emma had still been rubbing over her eyes dropped to her lap as she, too, turned to look at Felicity. “What are you doing here?” She asked, rather than answer the question.

Emma’s voice was chilly, the way it had been that first time Regan had ever met Felicity, at the grocery store. She could remember – startlingly vividly, actually – how uncomfortable and how shocked Emma had been at the sight of her ex.

Felicity gestured around them. “Well, I’m back for the holidays. And, like before, staying with my sister. This is the closest queer bar, so…” She trailed off, shrugging. “What are you doing here?” She pressed, and, huh.

Regan frowned as her stomach clenched uncomfortably, with the intent way Felicity’s eyes lingered on Emma’s face.

And then, her stomach clenched even harder in revolt at the way Felicity’s gaze dipped and lingered on Emma’s chest.

“I remember you said you’d moved, but – if my memory serves – you weren’t really one for bars. Or group activities like trivia,” Felicity murmured.

Regan set her jaw at that tone in her voice. That tone like – like she knew Emma oh-so-well.

Then again.

Felicity did know Emma. Or, she’d known a version of Emma, at least. One that had existed long before Regan was around.

Oh, Regan really, really didn’t like this feeling inside of her. This ugly, clawing feeling that made her feel – sick.

“That was a long time ago,” Emma returned, dismissively. “Things change.”

“Hard to imagine you changing,” Felicity said, tilting her head, and what the fuck was up with this bitch?!

Did she not see Regan? Sitting literally right here? So close to Emma that their thighs were touching?

She remembered that even back in the grocery store, when she’d made a comment, that Felicity had barely spared her a glance, then.

Which hadn’t bothered Regan at the time. Felicity had been a stranger. If anything, running into her back then had been a boon – it had been the entire reason Regan had learned about Emma’s sexuality.

But right now? In this moment? Being ignored like this – as if she wasn’t consequential in the least when it came to Emma – bothered her, a lot.

Pointedly, Regan cleared her throat, sitting up straight and waiting for Felicity to turn her attention towards her.

When she did, she tilted her head, her eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Have we met?” Felicity asked.

“Yes. Once. The last time you were in town.”

Felicity’s expression smoothed out, as she nodded in recognition. “Ahhh, right. The grocery store. With Emma.” She flicked her gaze back to Emma’s curiously.

But Regan coughed again, directing Felicity’s focus back to her once more. She had no right to look at Emma like that! All big-eyed and interested, as if she hadn’t broken Emma’s heart. She definitely didn’t have the right to look at Emma’s cleavage, which was only on display the way it was right now because Emma had held Regan’s stare with her own after she’d gotten off of work, and pointedly undone the top two buttons of her shirt.

She’d done that for Regan.

And – Regan had never felt like this before. This swift, heated possessive feeling that burned through her. Why would she? She’d never really been in a relationship before, and definitely hadn’t cared about the guys she’d been with the way she cared about being with Emma.

Even when it came to being with Emma, she hadn’t felt like this! Other people could – and did – look at Emma when she walked by, especially when her shirt was unbuttoned like this or when she wore something low-cut. And Regan just felt fucking proud, because Emma was with her.

But… Felicity was different, which Regan was only realizing right here and now. Felicity was someone that, for five years of her life, Emma had planned on having a future with. Being with Felicity had been so real and so impactful to Emma.

Which drove Regan to sharply state, “Yes, I was with Emma at the grocery store. And I’m here with her now. In a queer bar. Because we live together. Because we’re girlfriends.”

She tilted up her jaw at Felicity and dropped her hand down to rest on top of Emma’s that was still resting on her thigh. The hand of her girlfriend; not Felicity’s.

Felicity raised her eyebrows as she dropped her gaze down, but there was that – that undefinable note in her expression. That told Regan, loud and clear, that Felicity wasn’t intimidated by her or even, really, put-off by her existence at Emma’s side.

She looked – or, rather, didn’t look – at Regan as if she were completely, totally inconsequential.

And ugh, she hated it.

“All right, well. I’m heading back to my table,” she gestured over her shoulder, deliberately turning her attention back to Emma. “I’m over there with Stacy and Nic. If you wanted to come say hi.”

“I’m good here,” Emma dourly responded, with a tone that mirrored Felicity’s disinterest toward Regan.

All right, so that made Regan feel a little better at the very least.

“So, bye,” Regan cut in, her tone unusually sharp.

Felicity hummed, flicking her eyes to Regan again. “Nice elf ears,” she shot in her direction as she turned and walked away, directing her final comment at Emma and only Emma, “I’ll see you at holiday karaoke.”

Felicity’s dismissal of her made that feeling sweep through Regan. The one that usually only her family could inspire. Something heavy and dark, and… she frowned, intently, from it, her cheeks tinging with a little, embarrassed warmth.

She reached up, about to sweep her elf headband off the top of her head.

Only to be stopped when Emma quickly reached out and caught her wrist. “Stop. I like them,” she

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Emma’s words sweeping through her and replacing that clawing, dark feeling with a lightness she hadn’t realized she’d very much needed.

“That’s just – Felicity,” Emma stated, waving her hand in the direction Felicity had gone in, dismissively. “I’ve told you the stories.”

Regan nodded, moving her hand away from taking off her headband, and intertwining her fingers with Emma’s instead.

Emma liked her elf ear headband. So, take that.

***

Regan considered herself, by and large, to be a go-with-the-flow kind of person. Most of the time, when she had an unpleasant interaction with someone, it slid off her back. Like water over a duck’s feathers, or whatever that saying was.

Which was why, two days later, she felt like she was going crazy, unable to really let that interaction with Felicity fully leave her mind.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” she voiced to Sutton and Charlotte, tugging her hands through her hair as she spoke. “I’m finally a regular at a gay bar and I’m allowed to be there as a sapphic person with my girlfriend! And now, her ex is haunting it.”

“She was only there one time,” Sutton pointed out, from her place in the conversation via FaceTime.  

Sutton had only returned home to New York for a very brief stop-over period – and only to really see Charlotte in person – before she’d fairly quickly gone to see her family for the holidays.

This year was the first time in a long time – actually, it was the only time since they’d both lived in New York – that Regan hadn’t joined Sutton for her trip home.

Typically, this was the time of year that Regan grit her teeth and sucked up all her bad feelings, and went to see her family.

This year, though, she’d laid in bed with Emma a couple of weeks ago and had started making potential plans, and the ever-present dread that accompanied those had started working through her body. And Emma had asked, softly, “Why are you going home to see your parents for Christmas?”

Which – huh. Because Regan didn’t really know; it was just something she’d always done.

This year, she was putting a stop to that. Because she had Emma, who was settled right here in Manhattan, who wanted to spend time with Regan for the holidays. And Regan sure as hell would rather spend Christmas with Emma than her parents; the decision had been a no-brainer.

And then, a few days after Christmas, Emma would be joining her on the train to Boston so they could both attend the Spencer family New Year’s Eve party.

This holiday season seemed to be shaping up picture-perfectly.

Except, now, there was this whole Felicity-shaped-cloud looming over her Christmas Eve holiday karaoke plans. Emma had agreed to freaking sing with her! In public!

“And she lives across the country,” Sutton tacked on. “I hardly think she’s going to be haunting the place.”

“I’m sorry, why did you include me on this call?” Charlotte cut in, frowning into the camera from her own apartment. “You have Sutton back in your life to bounce ideas off of.”

“Umm, this is clearly an emergency that requires both of my best friends to consult on,” she stated the obvious. Like, hello.

Charlotte deadpanned, “Ah, yes. How could I have not realized.”

Sutton cleared her throat, regaining both of their attentions. “Have you brought your issues regarding Felicity up to Emma?”

Regan reeled back in offense. “Of course I have.”

What did Sutton think, she and Emma had the miscommunication issues that she and Charlotte had started their relationship with?!

Besides, Regan hadn’t necessarily had to tell Emma she’d been bothered by Felicity; it had been pretty obvious.

“And?” Sutton pressed.

“And, Emma is perfect, and assured me that there’s no way she’d ever have any desire to be with Felicity in any capacity, even if she and I weren’t together.” All of which Regan had no doubt about. Because Emma hadn’t had positive feelings toward Felicity even before they’d gotten together.

Sutton paused, staring at her like she was crazy. “There you go, then. What’s still bothering you?”

“Felicity’s existence,” she answered, incredulously. Like, duh. “And she’s now going to come to holiday karaoke?! Emma promised me that, for the first time, she’ll sing with me. And Felicity is going to be there, watching it? With that judgy look on her face?”

Even though she’d only met Felicity, briefly, two times, she could perfectly picture that look! And she didn’t like it!

She shuddered at the thought. That was Regan’s special night, damn it!

“You just need to ignore her,” Sutton, maturely, advised.

Regan frowned. Ignoring people, being subtle about her feelings… really wasn’t her strong suit.

“If you feel that Felicity didn’t respect your presence as Emma’s girlfriend, then you should make her recognize it,” Charlotte stated, her tone musing, but firm.

Thrilled by her input, she turned her attention to Charlotte, instead. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about!”

“Charlotte!” Sutton’s exasperation was undeniable, before she re-focused on Regan. “Emma is crazy loyal; you don’t need to do anything crazy or over the top,” Sutton countered, shaking her head in disbelief.

Unfortunately, over-the-top was Regan’s specialty, and she tsk’d at Sutton. “Shush, mom, other – wiser – mom is talking.”

Charlotte immediately frowned, commanding, “Do not call me that.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” she agreed.

“It’s not about you being concerned about Emma’s fidelity,” Charlotte continued, voicing Regan’s feelings perfectly. “It’s about making sure this other woman understands who she’s dealing with, here. That you aren’t merely some inconsequential interloper that she can walk all over; you’re someone she should fear crossing.”

“Charlotte, I am so sorry I ever had a single negative feeling about you.” Regan almost kissed Charlotte through the dang phone; that’s what she was talking about!

They all paused as they heard Katherine call something out in Sutton’s background, before Sutton turned to face the camera. “We’re all going to decorate the tree. Regan, don’t be insane. Charlotte – don’t encourage her being insane?!”

“Sorry, darling,” Charlotte gamely apologized. “Just voicing my thoughts to my… bestie.”

Sutton laughed, her adoration for Charlotte on full display as she smiled at her so warmly, Regan felt like an intruder on this moment even though it was her FaceTime call. “God. Okay. I’ll call you later, love. And I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you later, crazy.”

After Sutton had left the call, Charlotte pursed her lips and looked at Regan. “I do hope you have some sort of plan.”

Regan nodded slowly. “I think I’m onto one…”

***

Emma frowned as she looked around the bar.

It was Christmas Eve. Karaoke had begun. Regan had assured her that she’d be meeting her here as soon as she got off of her shift. She’d very insistently told Emma that she’d meet her directly at the bar, because it was technically closer when Regan was coming from Topped Off, than if she went to their apartment, first.

But Regan should be here by now.

Regan should have – if Emma’s calculations were correct… and they were – been here over twenty minutes ago.

Even if Regan wasn’t always the most punctual and was prone to getting herself unintentionally caught up in other things, she was hard-pressed to believe that Regan would miss the start of holiday karaoke.

Glancing down at her phone, she frowned even deeper when she didn’t see a message waiting for her.

Again, even if Regan wasn’t always punctual, she was always communicative with Emma, especially if she was running late. Emma almost wanted to say Regan was overly communicative, but…

Damningly, she loved being on the end of Regan’s over-communications. But there was nothing. No text message or missed call.

“What’s wrong?”

She froze at the sound of Felicity’s voice, clenching her teeth together.

“Nothing,” she denied, shooting her ex a glare.

Felicity was unbothered by Emma’s irritation, as per usual. Even when they’d been together, if Emma got upset about something Felicity had done, her ex hadn’t really cared all that much. As if reacting to Emma’s upset was beneath her.

Felicity arched a knowing eyebrow toward her. “Emma, please. We were together for five years; I can tell when there’s something wrong.”

“What’s wrong is – why are you seeking me out to chat?” She asked, because she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Felicity anything about her relationship with Regan.

She knew, instinctively, that Felicity would love to feed into anything potentially wrong, even if she and Regan had no real strife between them.

“Again – we were together for five years. Is it so terrible that I want to talk to you when we find ourselves in the same place?” Felicity asked, using that tone she had like she was the most reasonable person in the room.

God, how the fuck had Emma fallen for this for so, so long?

Somehow, even though she’d always felt she had such a solid, steady view on the world and on the people in it, it really wasn’t until the last six months or so – since Regan’s influence in her life – that she felt like she could see far more clearly.

“It’s not terrible, I just have no interest,” Emma shot back. And she knew the words might sound harsh, but that was just a side-effect of the fact that they were entirely truthful.

She heard Felicity’s sharp inhale, and…

Huh. Also interesting – Emma didn’t feel any satisfaction from having caused it, or any possible hurt feelings.

She was also fairly certain that was Regan’s influence in her life, as well.

No, she didn’t like Felicity, as a person. She had no desire to be her friend or to chat and catch up on her life.

But… Emma tilted her head as she sifted through her feelings, and – yeah. She really didn’t feel that way she’d felt about Felicity for so long, post breakup. Bitter and angry and betrayed and hurt. Mostly, as she looked at Felicity standing in front of her, she felt a slight buzz of annoyance at her. That was it.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Felicity asked, rather than touch on Emma’s comment. Typical.

Also typical was that tone she used. That dismissive tone.

And if anything, Emma felt far more rankled and irritated by that than anything else.

She narrowed her eyes. “She’s on her way.”

Felicity arched her a look. “Are you really going to be singing tonight?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s not the Emma I know.”

“You haven’t known me for over two years,” she pointed out.

“Again, I knew you for a lot longer than that before we broke up. People don’t change so drastically. What, you love getting up in front of crowds and making a fool of yourself?” Felicity’s incredulity dripped from her tone as she gestured up toward the platform at the other end of the bar.

Where, admittedly, some guy was singing a terrible rendition of Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

“That feels like something Elf Ears would like. You? Not so much.” Felicity stared her down. “And I definitely never imagined you changing for someone. Especially someone so…” She trailed off.

And everything inside of Emma went on high-alert, as she narrowed her eyes and rolled her shoulders back. “So…?” She challenged, and she didn’t even recognize that menacing tone she’d used.

“Quirky. Silly, even,” Felicity had no problem stating in the face of Emma’s insulted expression.

If Emma had a drink right now, she swore she would have tossed it right in Felicity’s face. She’d never felt that impulse in her life, but – then again – she’d never felt the way she felt for Regan for anyone else before.

It was almost shameful to her, because Emma knew that a year ago, she would have said the same words about Regan, in the same kind of snotty tone.

But hearing it from someone else, let alone Felicity… Emma didn’t think she’d ever felt so protective before. Both protective and livid in equal measure.

Before she could say anything, though, the music – no longer the guy that was committed a heinous crime against Bruce Springsteen – changed. And the voice that started singing pinged right through Emma’s entire body, and she turned to face the platform, Felicity entirely forgotten in the blink of an eye.

Regan loved a karaoke performance – and that was truly what Emma had to categorize them as. Regan never meekly sang a song, embarrassed by the crowd or unsure of herself; not that Emma would have ever expected that from her, anyway.

The only thing that made karaoke nights at the bar bearable for Emma, though, was how deeply into it Regan got. She prepared! Emma knew what songs were going to be pulled out at karaoke night based on whatever Regan was singing at home the days leading up to it.

And the thing was – Regan was good. No, she wasn’t going to be signed at a record label. But singing covers of songs she loved… well, Emma had to admit it. She’d been a hater when she’d moved in with Regan because she was bothered by her singing.

But it was a far cry from sounding bad, in any measure.

As Regan stood up on the platform, performing the first verse to Santa Tell Me – a song Emma had only heard for the first time this year, because Regan enjoyed it – she was certainly putting on a performance.

And that performance was accompanied by Regan wearing the tightest, shortest red dress Emma had ever fucking seen in her life.

There was no way Regan owned that before tonight. Right? She’d had noticed it in their shared closet space. Right?! She was certain of it.

Her throat ran dry and she, honestly, didn’t process any words of the actual song Regan was singing. All she processed was the fact that Regan was wearing matching dark red stiletto heels, and in that dress – with the hem only a few inches down, clinging to Regan’s thighs – those heels…

They really, really worked for Regan. And for her.

She’d come to develop a thing for Regan’s legs, and she didn’t know at what point it started. But Regan was always up and about, always on her feet – both at home and at work – so it didn’t come as a shock to Emma that her legs were so lithely muscular.

But jesus christ.

The dress left absolutely nothing to the imagination, anywhere. Nearly all of her legs were bare, and so were her arms and her shoulders. Somehow, someway, that dress defied all scientific odds by clinging to Regan’s body like a second skin.

If Emma had worn something like that – honestly, not that she even could. Her chest and her ass needed a lot more assurance than that flimsy fabric could provide, but if she could – she’d be a hell of a lot more self-conscious.

There was an innate confidence in herself, in her body, that Regan possessed, and Emma had known that since their very beginning. Her girlfriend was unashamed in her nudity, in masturbating so loudly her shouts echoed through the apartment, in asking for what she liked or wanted.

Emma found it completely, devastatingly sexy.

And right now, all of that confident energy was being put into this performance.

The performance of a fucking lifetime, and Emma’s blood thrummed through her, rushing through her ears in time with her heartbeat, as she stared, transfixed.

Regan’s long, dark hair was down, falling to brush over the soft skin of her shoulders, and even the fact that she was wearing a Santa hat didn’t detract from how wildly hot she looked. Maybe, somehow, it might have even… added to it? Given this particular song and performance?

“Is that… your girlfriend?” Felicity asked, sounding shocked.

Emma didn’t spare her a glance; like hell would she spare Felicity a glance when Regan was doing this on stage. When she was strutting around and owning the space around her. When she sang the word me, and slid her hand down along her own body.

She nodded, though, confirming without words.

As Regan started on the second verse, she looked around the bar and almost immediately locked eyes with Emma. Just like that, this heat that had started gathering inside of her became very, very real. Settling between her thighs, and demanding her attention.

Only, Regan didn’t hold her stare and sing at her, the way Regan was wont to do oftentimes.

There was a glint in those dark eyes that Emma could see from across the fucking bar, as Regan stepped down off the platform and started walking through the crowd.

Again – not unusual for Regan during a karaoke performance. She loved to “work the crowd” in her own words. And “the crowd” ate it the fuck up. Because Regan was talented, and engaging, and she demanded attention. Especially the sapphic members of the crowd.

And right now, the queer women in the bar were absolutely engaged in the performance.

It was only in this moment, as Regan started walking through the audience, strutting in those fucking heels between tables and slowly sliding her fingertips along the back of people’s chairs and pausing to rub elbows with women that were staring at her with obvious desire that Emma clued in to the fact that –

This was not one of Regan’s “performances” that she did for Emma, at home. Of which, there had been several. Where Regan would swing her hips and walk over to Emma while she sang during home-karaoke nights, and Emma found herself enraptured by it.

No, this was very public.

And Emma was far from the only person that was left wanting.

She set her jaw, eyes tracking Regan’s every movement. The heat that pulsed inside of her was something she’d never really felt before – both demanding, needy desire, and burning, undeniable jealousy.

Regan wasn’t doing anything inappropriate with anyone else in the least. But that didn’t matter.

What mattered in this acute instant – insanely and possessively – was that Emma knew that everyone else staring at Regan the way she was staring at her was also feeling this same raw desire she was.

And, she shifted back and forth on her feet, feeling her underwear stick to her – she was definitely feeling it.

Finally, as she was winding the song down, Regan made her way toward Emma. Some of the slow, sensual movements she’d been making “for the performance” fell away, as her gait became far more purposeful. Focused. Locked in on Emma, as Regan’s dark eyes met hers again, and held this time, as she brought the song home.

By the time she’d reached Emma, stopping only inches away, Regan was breathing heavily from the performance. Her face was flushed, her eyes were glinting, and Emma knew that look had nothing to do with the rapturous applause that had broken out.

Regan did, typically, enjoy her accolades after a performance. Especially one she’d put so much energy into.

But it was very clear to Emma the applause was not what Regan was seeking right now.

Despite the fact that Emma felt like she’d missed something deeply important, she couldn’t deny that what Regan was seeking right now was her.

She could see it on Regan’s face, that wanting, hungry look Regan wore for her before they had sex.

Regan reached past both Emma and Felicity – leaning heavily against Emma as she did so, and Emma breathed out a ragged exhale at the contact. Regan’s skin was hot to the touch, even through Emma’s long-sleeved shirt, and she could see right down the low cut of the material, staring at the tops of Regan’s breasts – and handed the microphone to Brandon.

“Thanks for your help,” Regan said with a glinting smile.

Emma hadn’t even realized Brandon had been standing there.

“No problem,” he responded, saluting Regan with the mic, as the emcee that ran karaoke started to introduce the next person.

“Regan,” Emma breathed, staring down at her girlfriend, and… she didn’t quite have a follow-up comment to make, honestly.

All she could think about was that: Regan.

Regan now standing pressed right against Emma, thigh to chest, her body soft and warm. In her heels, Regan was eye-level with Emma, and up close like this, she could see that the outfit hadn’t been the only thing Regan had changed up.

Her sinfully full lips were also a deep, utterly appealing red and the makeup around her eyes was so smokey, and Emma’s stomach clenched, tightly.

She wasn’t even aware of when she’d reached out and slid her hand along Regan’s waist, not until she squeezed the gentle curve under her hand.

“I hope you enjoyed my performance,” Regan murmured, and her tone had dipped an octave lower than usual, into that throaty voice she always had when they fucked.

After Regan spoke, however, she trailed her gaze to Felicity. And – there.

That dark, glinting look returned as she stared down Emma’s ex, and things made a lot more sense to Emma.

For the first time since knowing Felicity, she looked very off-kilter as she stared, her mouth hanging slightly open, at Regan. Then, she slid her gaze to Emma, blinking widely. And back to Regan, before she managed to clear her throat. “Well. Hello, again.”

Gone was that mocking tone she’d had when referencing Regan mere minutes ago – god, had that only been minutes ago? Emma felt like it was at least an hour.

Regan arched a slow, deliberate eyebrow up at Felicity. “Hi.” She reached up and tugged the hat off of her own head, before depositing it on Felicity’s. “There you go; fitting the theme. Nice hat.”

Felicity snapped her jaw shut and Emma had never heard Regan sound like that. Almost – mean? Not quite there, but her tone was cutting and sharp, and Emma had to bite back a surprised groan.

Why did that make her fucking throb?

She didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure it was healthy, but it did.

Regan slid her hand down her own side, until it landed on top of Emma’s. She held firmly to Emma’s hand, and she easily let Regan intertwine their fingers.

“So nice to see you again, Felicity, but Emma and I need to go home. Now.”

With that, Regan tilted her chin in the air and turned on her heel, strutting away and pulling Emma along with her. For her part, Emma was very willing.

Before it was too late, she shot Felicity a look over her shoulder. “Not silly now, hmm?”

Yeah, this heady satisfaction that worked through her veins mixed with the heated arousal from Regan showing up dressed like this, and doing that performance, and it was so wrong, but Emma vibrated from how intensely she wanted Regan. Right this fucking second, really.

The moment they stepped outside, free from the throngs of people in the bar, Regan’s grip on her hand tightened. And Emma’s tightened back, as she was finally able to ask, “To clarify – this entire plan you concocted for tonight was about Felicity?”

Regan whipped around to face her, dark eyes narrowed, as she answered, “Yes. About Felicity knowing that she better take me seriously, as your partner. About Felicity knowing that even if you were a prize to win – which, I know you’re not – that I’m not someone she can brush off and ignore like I don’t matter. Like I wouldn’t be able to compare to her.”

Emma… shouldn’t find that attractive? Right? That biting, possessive tone in Regan’s voice. She shouldn’t.

And yet, she found that feeling in her core throbbing even more intently.

“I know I don’t have anything to be jealous of. I know you don’t want to be with her. I just…” Regan brought her free hand up, dragging it through her hair and leaving her long, silky waves carelessly tousled, as her dark eyes stared into Emma’s.   

Emma’s heart leapt in her chest, and she licked her lips just in time because she knew what was coming from that look alone.

In seconds, Regan’s mouth was on hers. Demanding and heady and hot, her tongue sliding against Emma’s bottom lip before slipping into her mouth.

The groans she’d kept held back felt like they’d been unlocked, as she dropped Regan’s hand and gripped her waist with both hands, tightly. Mapping Regan’s body under this fucking dress.

She shuddered as Regan’s hands shot up, fisting in Emma’s hair, her nails scraping against her scalp, sending the responding nerves in her body shooting down her spine and landing squarely between her thighs.

Her moan was long and guttural, swallowed hungrily by Regan, who rolled her hips into Emma, and –

Emma latched onto the last sane thought she had, using her hold on Regan’s waist to push her a step back and separate them. They were both breathing hard, and Regan’s lips were wet from their kiss, and Emma’s fingers tightened so hard on Regan’s waist as she gripped all of her self-control.

“We need to go home,” she muttered, firmly, unwittingly repeating Regan’s final words to Felicity. “Now.”

Emma barely remembered the walk back to their apartment.

All she could think about was the fact that Regan’s ass looked so fucking good in that dress, with those heels, and her hands itched to touch. To grab it, to squeeze Regan, and pull her up against Emma’s body. To use her own touch to rock Regan’s hips against her own.

And, as soon as they were in their apartment, the door kicked firmly shut behind them, it was exactly what she did.

She used their entwined hands to spin Regan to face her, before dropping that contact and sliding her arms around Regan. She hauled Regan tightly against her body, a thrill shooting through her at the way Regan’s eyes widened with surprise.

Emma slid her hands down, fulfilling exactly what she’d been thinking about for the last several minutes.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her desire ramped up as she tightly gripped Regan’s ass.

“This fucking dress,” she murmured, her throat tight.

Because this fucking dress was so short, that with the way Emma’s hands gripped Regan’s butt, it made the dress ride up so much that her fingertips brushed against the heated, bare skin of Regan’s thighs, just below her ass.

Regan’s breath trembled out, as she reached up and braced herself on Emma’s shoulders. “It’s new. I needed it.”

Her face only inches from Regan’s, able to feel every hot exhale that escaped Regan’s lips, Emma arched a look at her. “Yeah? You needed it, so you could put my ex in her place?”

Regan’s jaw set, and she didn’t back down. “Yes.”

Emma shook her head, but before she could say anything else, Regan reached up and took a fistful of Emma’s hair, dragging Emma down to meet her lips.

She’d never known anyone that kissed the way Regan kissed.

All-consuming. As if the sensation of Emma’s lips on hers was all Regan needed to work into a heated, needy frenzy.

Granted, it was often all Emma needed from Regan, too.

That sensual feeling of Regan sliding her lips along Emma’s. The way Regan nipped her teeth sharply into her lip. The way Regan’s kiss – the way she bit and sucked and licked – was undeniably, wonderfully, sexily skillful. But that she wasn’t concerned about it getting messy.

It was the way Regan gave herself into the raw abandon of their kiss that really did it for Emma.

That – on a normal day – made her clit start to ache and got her soaking wet.

But, tonight wasn’t a normal night.

Tonight it was Christmas Eve, and Regan had showed up dressed to fucking kill, and Emma was already needy and aching and dripping wet.

“I want you to fuck me,” Regan panted into her mouth, rolling her hips – hard – against Emma in the lewdest fucking grind, that had her pulsing. “I want it, so badly.”

Emma’s hands had slid to the bare backs of Regan’s thighs, gripping and massaging, as Regan had started rocking against her. “Yeah?” She asked, digging her nails in to the soft, supple skin under her nails, making Regan choke out a gasp that turned into a long, rolling groan. “Is that why you wore this fucking dress tonight? Not only to show Felicity how much power you have, but to show me?”

Regan’s answering nod was desperate and honest and, “Yes, god, yes. I wanted you to feel like this. I wanted you to feel crazy with how much you want me, the way I feel for you. Because when I think about anyone else wanting you the way I do, it makes me feel… feral.”

The rasping tone in Regan’s voice made Emma’s breath catch, and her words echoed through Emma’s entire fucking body.

Emma hadn’t even realized as Regan had been speaking, that her hands had slid down and unbuttoned Emma’s shirt. And were now resting at the top of her jeans, clearly wanting to strip Emma out of those, too.

And Emma had no reservoir of self-control left in her entire body. All she could do was be thankful that Sutton was gone for the holidays, and that their apartment was theirs right now, as she and Regan walked down the hall.

Only for Emma to come to an abrupt halt as they walked into the living room.

Apparently, Regan had the same idea about being grateful Sutton wasn’t home.

She’d made a cozy-looking faux-bed on the floor, all of their blankets and pillows laid out on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. “Let me guess – this is why you were late tonight?”

Regan hummed in agreement, and Emma turned to look at her.

Only for her knees to get fucking weak. Regan was still wearing her heels. She was still wearing the dress, only it was hiked up to her hips.

And she watched as Regan peeled off the lacy thong she’d worn underneath, which was fucking soaked. She could see how the material was drenched, and Emma’s throat was parched.

“Yes,” Regan answered, her face flushed with desire, before she turned and bent down to grab something from their “bed.”

Emma’s breath was wrenched from her lungs on a needy, whimpering sound she hadn’t known she was capable of at the way Regan bent over, showing Emma – so unashamedly – how wet she was. “Regan.”

Her girlfriend turned around, and handed Emma her harness, and Regan’s favorite toy to be fucked with. “Put it on. Now.”

There was such a raw need in her words, and even if Emma had wanted to, she couldn’t deny it. And she didn’t want to.

No, she hands were fucking shaking with how much she didn’t want to deny Regan. Not when they wanted the same thing, and Emma wanted so badly that she was lightheaded from it.

She tugged off her shirt the rest of the way, before unbuttoning her hands and pushing them off. As she started pulling up the harness over her own legs, she ran her eyes up Regan’s.

“Keep the dress on. And the heels,” she breathed, both a demand and a plea.

“I was planning on it,” Regan readily responded, her mouth falling open on a panting breath as she stared, wide-eyed and wanting, at Emma as she put the strap-on in place.

“Fuck,” Emma breathed, and – of course, Regan had been planning on it.

Of course, Regan had known just how much Emma would love this outfit, and exactly what Emma wanted.

The first time she’d fucked Regan like this, she’d felt self-conscious. Though she’d been used to being completely bared to Regan’s gaze during sex, and though she knew – undeniably – Regan was attracted to her, this was different.

Emma felt more exposed, somehow.

With the way Regan stared at her, as if she were going to devour Emma, there was no possible way for Emma to feel self-conscious or unsure, now.

Regan took a slow step toward her. “You’re mine, Emma,” she husked out, her gaze boring into Emma’s. “You are all mine.”

That tone, the look in her eye, and Regan’s proximity had Emma’s entire body buzzing. Alert and aching.

And just as she moved to reach for Regan, her girlfriend dropped to her knees in front of her.

Emma’s breath caught and held in her throat, her eyes widening, and – they’re never done this before. But fucking christ, if it didn’t make Emma’s clit throb and pulse, make her clench on the emptiness inside of her.

Regan on her knees, staring up at Emma with that intent stare, as she slid her hands up the outside of Emma’s thighs.

Her touch wasn’t soft and teasing, the way it often was with Regan.

It was direct and knowing, and Regan walked her fingertips up Emma’s inner-thighs, which were already starting to tremble, her stomach already fluttering, then clenching tightly.

Regan hadn’t even touched her yet, and Emma could feel the very beginning of her orgasm starting to build inside of her.

Her mouth dropped open on a gasping breath as Regan’s fingertips slid up, into the fabric of the harness, so she could press directly against Emma’s dripping entrance.

“I’m the only one that gets to touch you like this. To hear you make those sounds. To feel the way your thighs shake for me.”

Regan slid her fingertips back and forth, and Emma groaned in the back of her throat.

Her eyes were wide, and she couldn’t manage to find any words, as she watched – unable to tear her eyes away – as Regan pulled her hand away from Emma’s pussy and slid the glistening wetness on her fingertips over the tip of the toy.

Fuck. Fuck.

“And I’m damn sure going to be the only one that does this with you,” Regan stated, holding Emma’s unwavering stare with her own.

She leaned in, licking the end of the strap, and Emma’s mouth trembled open at the picture Regan made.

Regan was going to be the only person that put her mouth on Emma like this, because this was the first time it had ever happened. It hadn’t been something Emma would have requested or even thought she’d like. And maybe she just liked it because it was Regan doing it.

But, whatever the fucking reason, she did like it.

The way Regan’s lips and tongue looked, the unashamed and brash way Regan stared up at her. Making sure Emma wasn’t missing a moment.

And she absolutely wasn’t.

She didn’t even realize she the soft moaning sounds in the room were coming from herself, until Regan slid her fingertips back against Emma.

She braced herself back against the wall behind her – needed to, really, or else her increasingly weak and shaking thighs were not going to hold her up anymore – as she widened her stance as much as she could. She was desperate for Regan’s touch. To feel Regan, at the same time that she had this visual.

Because she was already pulsing, her clit was already so hard and so sensitive, and, “Touch me. Touch me, now.” She breathed, dropping one of her hands, that had been tightly clenched at her side, to rest softly in Regan’s hair.

Regan hummed, and immediately slid her fingertips against Emma’s clit.

Her head snapped back, her mouth opening on a throaty cry, and she came.

She came so fucking hard, her thigh trembled and jerked and she forced herself to keep her eyes open. To slide her gaze down and look at Regan again.

Who was staring up at her, her mouth no longer on the strap, but open and panting for breath, herself, as she rubbed Emma’s clit in slow, firm circles, working her through her orgasm.

When the final wave washed over her, Emma dropped heavily back against the wall, panting for breath.

“Fuck,” she breathed, swallowing thickly, as she closed her eyes. Just needing to center herself, for just a moment.

And a moment was really all she had.

“Yeah,” Regan agreed, “Fuck.”

Emma opened her eyes again, just as Regan stood up, and pressed her mouth to Emma’s in a bruising kiss.

She met her, beat for beat, feeling like Regan’s mouth was breathing energy right back to her very soul. Regan’s throat let out a stream of constant, wanton, needy moans, as her body strained against Emma’s.

Heart hammering in her chest, she grabbed Regan’s hips and pushed off the wall, taking a step forward, walking Regan a step backward.

“Get down on your hands and knees,” she breathed against Regan’s mouth, knowing exactly the reaction she’d get.

And she wasn’t wrong.

Regan broke their kiss completely, a keening moan working out of her mouth, as she eagerly dropped down to her hands and knees, as requested.

Shameless and totally unselfconscious, Regan presented herself before Emma. “Come on. Emma, I need – I need…”

She dropped to her knees behind Regan, nodding even though Regan couldn’t see her with the way her head was dropped down against the blanket, already.

Emma ran her hands over Regan’s ass, squeezing it again. Regan groaned, and so did Emma, the satisfaction working through her at the touch. She kept one hand there, massaging against her smooth skin, as she slid her other hand down, under her fingertips slid against Regan’s pussy.

“Dripping. You’re literally dripping,” Emma breathed, her pulse pounding so hard, she felt lightheaded from it.

But, Regan was dripping for her. She’d barely pressed her fingertips against Regan, and her fingers were already covered.

Regan nodded. “Yes, I am. I have been. Since you l-looked up at me in the bar. And I could see how much–” She cut herself off on a sharp exhale, as Emma slid two of her fingers inside of her.

So, so easily, and Emma added a third finger the next time she slowly thrusted inside.

“You could see how much…?” She trailed off, staring at her own fingers as she slowly fucked Regan, wanting to make sure she was ready for Emma to fuck her with her strap.

“How m-much you wanted me. I… I could see it on your face,” Regan managed to pant out, pushing herself back against Emma’s fingers with abandon.

For several moments, Emma stared – mesmerized – by the sight Regan was in front of her, and she wondered how in the hell she was this lucky.

“Fuck me. Emma, baby, fuck me,” Regan groaned, clenching tightly around Emma’s fingers.

She pulled out from where she was buried inside of Regan, needing exactly that. To fuck her. To press her entire body into Regan’s, to be even deeper inside of her.

She positioned the strap, rubbing the tip over Regan’s entrance, breathless at the way she could see Regan coating the silicone. She really was so fucking wet for Emma, and –

Regan braced herself on her hands, pushing herself back against Emma, taking her in.

Immediately, Emma’s hands dropped to Regan’s waist, gripping her tightly, and using her hold to pause Regan’s movements. Mostly because she wanted a second. A second to look down and take everything in.

Take in the way Regan looked, with her dress hitched up over her waist and her legs spread, and her back rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths, while she’d taken half of the strap and was arching, straining to take more.

Unbidden, that possessive feeling Emma had felt earlier returned, and she swiftly, firmly slid all of the way inside of Regan, her hips flush against her ass.

“Yesss,” Regan cried out through a full-body shudder, that Emma both saw and felt.

“I am yours, Regan,” Emma confirmed, her voice low and rasping and even though she’d just had an orgasm so hard she could still feel it, her own arousal thrummed through her with the words.

She gripped Regan’s hips hard – so hard, because she knew Regan liked that – drawing back slowly until she’d pulled almost all of the way out of her. It was the headiest, most powerful feeling on earth, Emma was convinced, because as she pulled out, Regan’s shoulders tensed to push back against her.

She thrust, firmly, all the way back in, and the cry that escaped from the back of Regan’s throat made a spark shoot down Emma’s fucking spine.

“But,” she dug her teeth into her bottom lip, starting to fuck Regan for real, only pulling out a few inches before pushing back in all of the way. Exactly how Regan liked it. “You’re mine, too.”

It was insane, how wild that made her feel. How all of this made her feel.

She’d never been a possessive person, before. Never been much of a jealous one, either, even if she’d had moments here and there in her relationship with Felicity.

But everything with Regan was different. More passionate, deeper, stronger, softer, sharper – it was everything and more, and it took Emma over.

Regan nodded, fast and desperate, pushing her forehead against the blankets under her, muffling her long, keening moan. “Yes,” she gasped out, whimpering with Emma’s next thrust. “I am. Yours.”

Emma leaned over Regan’s back, pressing herself against Regan in the way she knew drove her girlfriend crazy. She loved to feel Emma against her, and Emma knew that because Regan loved to tell her exactly what she liked, what she wanted.

Regan’s whimpering moan was long and drawn out, as she arched back into Emma, clearly wanting to feel all of her.

She buried her face against the back of Regan’s neck, inhaling her scent, feeling dizzy with it. The combination of Regan’s soft hair brushing against her face, and the sensation of her body against Emma’s – the soft fabric of her dress against Emma’s naked body – and the rhythmic slapping sound of Regan’s ass against her hips –

God, Emma wasn’t the one getting fucked, but she could hardly breathe from it.

Those sounds – all of those fucking sounds, loud and brazen and throaty and sexy as hell – escaped Regan, growing louder and louder. Echoing through Emma’s ears until it was all she could hear, and she knew it meant Regan was getting closer to coming.

She wanted it. She wanted to feel Regan come for her so badly, and it hit her so strongly, it instantly became a need.

Pushing herself back up onto her knees, she reached down and took a handful of Regan’s hair, gripping it tightly until –

Regan snapped her head back, her mouth falling open, and her cheeks were flushed, and “Emma, Emma, Emma,” she breathed like a chant, hurried and wanton, pushing herself back against Emma. Fucking herself against her like she needed Emma to be so deeply inside of her more than she needed to breathe.

Her own hands were trembling with the need, as if she, too, were about to orgasm, as she reached down, sliding her free hand over Regan’s hip, and down between her thighs.

Her clit was so, so hard, and when Emma brushed her fingers over it, Regan’s shout was so loud, it echoed off the walls.

“Com-coming, I’m coming,” Regan breathed, before she did just that.

Regan rocked back against Emma just as Emma thrust forward, wanting to be deep inside of her while her orgasm wracked through her.

She knew she couldn’t technically feel the way Regan clenched around her, but the phantom sensation of it – especially as the harness rubbed against Emma’s own still sensitive clit – made her shiver.

Emma stared, captivated, as the orgasm shuddered through Regan’s body. As always, she was unable to look away from the raw sexuality Regan exuded like this.

The way she gasped and moaned and shivered, and rolled her hips into Emma, rocking against the touch Emma still had on her clit. Regan wrung every single second out of her every orgasm, and it was – unfailingly – the hottest thing Emma ever experienced.

Finally, Regan let out a deep, exhausted sigh. And dropped down from her knees, right onto her stomach.

Quickly, Emma moved with her, before gently sliding her hips back, tugging the strap out of her.

Her hands shook slightly – as if she, too, were still coming down from an earth shattering orgasm – as she took the harness off. She turned back to Regan, stroking her hand up her back softly.

Then, at the top of the dress, she encountered the zipper, and tugged it down, easily freeing Regan of the dress, which was now wrinkled, bunched up, and wet.

Regan pushed herself up a few inches, wordlessly beseeching Emma to tug the dress out from under her, which she did. Before Regan groaned and dropped herself back down onto the blankets, rolling onto her back.

Emma rested next to her on her side, propping her head onto her hand as she studied Regan’s face.

Flushed and satiated, there was a glow on her cheeks, and a faint little smile on her perfect, full lips.

Emma couldn’t help but reach out and lightly traced her fingertip over that smile, even as she whispered, “You know, you didn’t need to do anything like that – the dress or the performance – to make a point about Felicity.”

She liked that she and Regan always communicated; they were the epitome of communication, really. Regan loved to communicate her thoughts and feelings, and just by being with her, Emma was far better at it now, too.

And she really, really enjoyed that, about them.

Even if they had moments of jealousy, which was fine, she hoped Regan didn’t feel like she needed to play any sort of game or pull a stunt convey her feelings.

Regan blinked open her eyes, staring up at Emma. As ever, there was an alertness that Regan experienced post-orgasm that never ceased to amaze her. “I know.”

Regan mirrored Emma, rolling onto her side as well, as she reached out and stroked her fingertips up and down Emma’s side.

Emma shivered at the touch, and… it had taken a little while, but the days where Emma felt any embarrassment – even slightly – were long gone. Regan loved to touch her, everywhere, all of the time. During sex, of course, but in the moments afterwards like this, too. Or when they were cuddling. Or anytime, really.

And every touch from Regan made her feel warm. Loved.

“But… I just… I really – I’ve never felt this way for anyone. Excited by what we mean to each other. Wanting everyone in the world to know it, too. Especially Felicity.”

Okay, there was a tone there, as Regan briefly narrowed her eyes on Felicity’s name, that sparked through Emma.

She’d add her enjoyment of Regan’s surprising little possessive streak to the things she’d have never expected from herself.

She bit at the inside of her cheek, thinking about how she’d felt watching Regan work through the crowd, before she admitted, “I get it.”

Regan’s eyes lit up. “Right?! Plus, it was really, really fun.”

Emma shook her head, even as she breathed out a laugh, and rolled to settle on her back. In doing so, she found herself looking up at the Christmas tree, with the colorful twinkling lights overhead. Within seconds, Regan dropped her head down to rest on Emma’s shoulder, and she draped her arm over her back, relishing in the feeling of how Regan curled her entire body into her own.

“Fun,” she drawled. “Yes. Exactly the word I would use.”

Regan slid her hand lightly over to rest on Emma’s stomach, popping her head up to look down at her, incredulously. “You’re telling me you didn’t have fun? When have you ever had a more fun Christmas Eve, than this?”

Emma chuckled, staring up at Regan. And she thought over all of her past Christmas Eve’s that came to mind, her smile melting into something… soft. As she answered, “Never.”

Regan’s answering smile was luminous and beautiful, and tugged intently on Emma’s heart.

And then Regan released a satisfied sigh, laying her head back down. “You still owe me a karaoke duet, though.”

“Ha,” Emma breathed out a laugh, scratching her nails lightly down Regan’s spine. “You made your choice to seduce me at the bar and go home early. I owe nothing.”

Regan pouted against Emma’s neck, before she shrugged and hummed. “I guess I can’t complain. It was a good trade off.”

In the quiet, content moments that followed, Emma found herself blinking up at their tree, the lights and ornaments, and  she felt sated and loved and happy, and… she murmured, “At Kimberly’s tomorrow, I’ll sing a Christmas duet with you.”

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