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Regina picks her up in her little car. She doesn't use magic to drive it, as Cruella liked to, or drive wildly around each corner. Regina follows the lines on the side of the road and takes each corner calmly. It's orderly.
Frankly adorable because they could have traveled with magic, or flown, but Regina wanted to pick her up with a car. Mal doesn't mind cars, they're useful, not as quick as magic, but less bother than walking in the ridiculous shoes that come with her clothing here. They make small talk about Henry (catching up his school work) and Lily (trying to learn to land without destroying most of the trees).
This is, apparently, normal, according to Lily. You talk about your lives, a little, nothing too serious but you want to feel it out. Make sure you get along. Mal doesn’t know how to tell Lily that she and Regina get along only too well, so she doesn’t. Better let some things remain secret, at least for awhile. Lily should master landings before she has to face that kind of magic and all its implications.
Regina circles the car to open Mal’s door, and she waits, because Lily said waiting was polite. It’s important.
She didn’t mention why, but Mal has a good memory. The car door clicks open, Regina offers her a hand and they’ve arrived in the little square of black asphalt where cars wait. Mal’s heels click on the pavement and Regina takes her arm as they circle the restaurant. It is not that of the wolf (even though her roast beef is excellent), this is the fancier place.
Which is good, Lily promises, because you can’t go to Granny’s on a nice date. Maybe a first date if it was casual but this isn’t. No part of Regina Mills has ever been casual, or easy. This needs wine, candles, and--
Regina opens the door, and a young woman in a black waistcoat takes their coats. Candlelight glimmers on Regina’s olive skin and Mal remembers fire, soft and then demanding. Regina was so good at making it run over her back like waves of honey. Her dress clings to her back, and her hips, red and rich like the wine the Regina chooses without needing to see the menu.
Look at the menu, decide what you like, then ask them what they think sounds good. Agree on three things, four is too many for tapas . Mal still isn’t sure what the latter is but she hears Lily’s voice as she scans the menu. She’s not sure of the Spanish influences, and the way she pronounces the words to not roll off her tongue as they do Regina’s. Mal also has very little interest in the vegetables, or the mango, and she raises her eyebrows when Regina orders the one with the sweet potatoes.
“You’ll like it.”
Mal does like the wine, and the way Regina’s lips grace the glass with their touch. Her lipstick’s far darker than the wine but it doesn’t cling to the glass the way it would on Mal’s own pale skin. She trusts Regina to order the food, she built this town, after all, even though the tapas restaurant is new, because the dark curse reinvents itself when it gets bored. Hell is repetition, but true torture needs to be inventive.
Like Regina’s knife and the smooth way it cuts through the dead flesh of the cow in front of her. The red of the meat has just enough blood to be tantalizing. Mal reaches for it with her fork and stops, setting down the silver utensil. She lifts the slice of meat with her fingers, letting the heat of it sink into her flesh before it passes her lips. Licking each fingertip, she smirks over the table as Regina chokes on her wine.
Insisting that she at least try the sweet potato, Regina holds it out on her fork and Mal studies it and the steadily decreasing space between them. She blows across it, making steam curl because her breath is always warm. Taking the morsel easily, Mal ponders the flavor while holding Regina’s eyes.
The bottle of wine has been defeated, and another arrives, still dark, rich like velvet on the tongue but Regina’s keeps toying with her lips. Mal’s knee touches hers beneath the table and the candle flickers.
Mal lazily moves her foot along Regina’s ankle and the candle flickers again before roaring upwards.
Magic is so much more fun than Lily’s rules.
There’s no dessert. Regina asks for the check and the routine of trading a plastic square occurs while Mal watches Regina’s fingers stumble with the pen. When the waitress’ back is turn, Mal sends the candle flame upwards in a spiral, teasing Regina before it forms an identical copy of her signature in the air, the vanishes, turning to smoke.
Regina smirks.
“Close.”
“I’ll try again later.”
Lily said not to go in on the first date. Not to linger on Regina’s threshold, or let Regina stay on hers. Quick kiss goodnight was the recommendation.
“Henry’s out,” Regina whispered, and recommendations burned away.
Mal doesn’t kiss quickly, and goodnight is a promise she intends to make in whispers and moans. Regina’s cold hands are on her bare back before they’ve even made it past the front door. She presses, Mal gives in and they tumble over the threshold. Mal slips out of the impractical shoes, and drops to her knees to remove Regina’s own. She kisses her way up, sliding red fabric up Regina’s thighs to leave lipstick just south of her panties.
Mal’s own aren’t black. Lily warned against that, but Regina is unbothered by convention. Mal tugs down the delicate fabric, gliding them across Regina’s knees. They’re such an odd thing, clingy and soft, and they stay up almost like magic. Removing them is such a joy. She backs Regina to the stairs, kissing her neck, her shoulders, peeling down the dress that taunted her all through dinner. Perching Regina on a step above her, Mal parts her legs, exposing her sex and the soft, curly hair. Setting fire on her fingertips, Mal leaves trails of that on Regina’s thighs, around her knees, and then lets it dive through the dark hair around Regina’s sex.
Her mouth follows, and her lips are hotter and more demanding than any blaze. Regina knows that, and her whimper turns to a moan, then a cry because the fire’s up across her stomach, running like wax, like rivulets across Regina’s skin.
Regina’s hand makes a fits around one of the supports of the banister, and Mal takes pleasure in making those fingers spasm, then go white. Regina is as delicious as the sounds she makes and the shifting, bucking, of her hips against Mal’s mouth, sends her spinning.
That hand leaves the bannister and digs into Mal’s shoulder. The fire rushes back, circling Maleficent as Regina feeds it with the strength of her orgasm.
Mal lets her dress burn, even though Lily will be disappointed. The cloth shreds, becoming ash on her skin and she stands over Regina, naked but for the last strands of smoke.
“Come to bed,” Regina demands, offering her hand. Now they travel with magic, twining together in two twists of smoke. Why would they trust their legs to carry then when their knees are so weak?
Regina pushes her back against the bed, hand against her chest. She kisses and her lips steam against Mal’s skin. It’s a parlor trick, but Regina’s dark eyes suggest that it’s well received.
“I wanted to taste you all through dinner,” Mal admits.
“I thought you might have had me on the table.”
“Next time,” Mal promises.
“I’ll book out the restaurant,” Regina replies, licking her way down. Her mouth is a match for the inferno within, and her fingers slip inside, familiar and welcome. Has it been merely decades or have aeons passed since Mal had her touch?
It matters little, because Regina’s mouth and hands make Mal’s orgasm sizzle, then scorch through her. Crying out Regina’s name always brings the possessive side, and Regina watches her slip through pleasure, eyes dark as night.
The date was new, but Regina’s heartbeat is a familiar drumming against Mal’s chest as they curl together, damp and sated.
For the moment, at least.