This was for a prompt over on Tumblr: Mad Queen, First Kiss/Last Kiss. The title is a lyric from the Aimee Mann song "Video."

Near Miss

It made you feel sick, sometimes, to look back and remember it. The instant Regina's heart broke. Any shred of remaining hope leaving her, expelled with every wracking sob over her lover's cold body. She went silent and still after a while, the cries mere hiccups, and she wouldn't let you and Victor see her cry, covering her eyes with her hands and composing herself, before falling apart again in your arms moments later. It was a long walk back to the mausoleum, and on the way you pushed down the guilt. It didn't re-emerge until years later, lying in bed watching Regina brush her hair. The young queen sat at her dressing table gazing into the mirror with dead eyes. Going through the motions, getting up because she must. Regina did a curious thing, then, when she caught you looking at her through the mirror. She smiled.

It wasn't a fake smile, either. She looked genuinely happy to be in your company. So the wide smile you returned was fake, because this fleeting gesture - just a slight quirk of her lip - squeezed your heart and it hurt. Knowing you had turned her into a person who, just the other day, did that very thing to some poor fool with her own fingers.

Regina got up and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Good morning," she said, gently pushing hair out of your eyes, which only made you feel worse.

"G'mornin," you replied, feigning sleepiness. You sat up and stretched. "I'll leave, just give me a sec."

Regina pushed you back down.

"No, take your time. No one's expecting me anytime soon."

You lay back down. Curled your fingers around her hand and drew it to your lips.

"Whatever you say, my Queen."

"No 'Queen,' today," she said, the frown returning. "Just 'Regina.'"

Suddenly three years felt like three days.

"How would I do that?" she had asked.

"Well, you're the queen, aren't you?"

You shook away the memory.

"Okay," you said, pulling her into bed, mussing up her carefully combed tresses. "Regina it is."

First Kiss

Three years earlier, when you first fucked her, Regina was just another conquest. To you, kissing her was the ultimate brush with death. Either Regina would kill you or her husband would, with Rumplestiltskin cackling "I told you so" in the background. She was a cliff you couldn't resist diving off. Assault wasn't your style, but the woman simply would not shut up. Regina wasn't careful with her words back then. She screamed her criticisms as she thought of them - "useless," "trash," and "nothing" hit you the hardest because they had been words you'd challenged your whole life - instead of calculating each syllable.

You pushed her against a tree and attacked, savoring the soft heat of her lips before the blowback came. Regina was always surrounded by cruel men, and now Rumplestiltskin had given her the means to combat one. Nobody would miss you if she did. This risk turned you on.

You stepped back, leaving enough space for her to decide what happened next. You licked your lips and locked eyes with Regina, whose expression you couldn't read. Her own gaze flickered to your mouth and you decided, "Fuck it," leaning forward and kissing her again. Regina's lips moved slightly so you pressed your body closer, grinding her against the tree. She wrapped her arms around your neck and kissed back, and it was more than you could have hoped for, because something sparked between you. Something new and dangerous.

You squeezed her buttocks while she reached inside your coat to pull your shirt from your pants and feel the hot skin there. You were delighted when her fingertips lingered on your belt, and even more delighted when she let you guide her palms to more sensitive places. You kissed her neck, her throat, and the side of her face, breathing heavily while her hands stroked your body. This would not be a simple cliff dive. You were under the water now, close to drowning.

"Regina," you said, backing up. "Come with me."

You took her hand and led her deeper into the forest, searching for a place to lay her down while you were still hard and she was still welcoming.

Last Kiss

Jefferson arrived that night as he rarely did: unexpectedly and with poor timing. You entered your suite to find him standing on your balcony whistling some off-key tune. Hurrying inside and shutting the doors, you hissed, "What are you doing here?" Jefferson turned and approached you.

"Why else?"

Not bothering to hide your annoyance, you replied, "You can't be here. I have people right outside the door. Snow White is right outside the door."

"I had to see you."

"What for? Why not at our usual time?"

He kissed you in lieu of explaining. You protested as he picked you up to carry you to the bed.

"This is highly unorthodox!"

"Shh, shh. Regina, be quiet."

You waved your left hand to lock the chamber doors, and waved your right to sound proof the room. Bits of violet smoke lingered on your fingertips, which he kissed.

"I'll be loud as I like, Hatter," you said. He just chuckled.

"Oh, I hope so."

Jefferson didn't make you scream, however, when he fucked you that night. You slowly undressed each other, and it was your own impatience that made him tsk. He kissed and caressed every part of you, his gentleness strange, even unnerving. Jefferson could still surprise you, gazing into your eyes with tenderness as he entered you. When he wouldn't thrust as hard and fast as he usually did, you strained to flip him on his back but he held you down.

"Jefferson," you said in his ear, sounding annoyed. "Jefferson."

"Shhh," he said, kissing your lips, though no other ears could hear you. He murmured against your throat, "Just relax."

You scraped your nails down Jefferson's back, and though he winced from the pain he wouldn't thrust any harder.

As Jefferson dragged moist lips across your collarbone, you said, "If you think this will make me come, you're wrong."

He pulled back to look you in the eye.

"If you think that's the point of this, then you are."

Sometime later, Jefferson came inside you with a shiver and a grunt. He kissed your forehead and pulled out. You lay side by side not looking at each other, saying nothing. You weren't speechless because it had been good, but because he had looked so sad when it was over.

"Regina," he said, and you turned your head. "I have to go."

"So soon?"

You had meant to inject those two words with sarcasm, but they came out disappointed. You whispered it, furrowing your brow. He leaned over to kiss your lips with a closed mouth. He got up and started gathering his many clothes, stitching the Hatter back together. You rose to grab your dressing gown. Wrapping it around yourself, you got in his space and demanded to know what was going on. He wouldn't tell you.

"You're acting strangely and I want to know why."

"Oh, now you want to know what I'm feeling?"

They were the first petulant words you could elicit from his mouth all night, and you felt better knowing he hadn't been replaced by a hat-stealing shapeshifter. Instead of getting riled, however, Jefferson continued silently getting dressed. You padded out to the balcony in bare feet to look up at the stars while you waited for…whatever came next.

Jefferson stood beside you and followed your gaze.

"Look, Regina," he said, pointing. "See the second star to the right?"

"What about it?"

"If you fly that way, straight on 'til morning, you will find yourself in a whole other world."

You let out a puff of air that could be a laugh.

"Granted, it's one of many." He turned to face you. "And now, my Queen, I must bid you goodnight."

You smiled slightly.

"It's about time I got some sleep. When will I see you again?"

Instead of answering your question, he kissed you, and that's when you should have realized what he had been hiding all along.

You could pretend, decades later, he tasted like moonlight or autumn or any poetic trope, but he really tasted like salt and sweat. Just like any other mouth, Jefferson's tongue was warm and moist, slick with saliva, and his jaw was scratchy with stubble, pressing uncomfortably against your soft chin. His eyes were blue, a sky color that had always magnified the intensity of his stares, but now they were mournful. A small part of you feared you would never see him again.

"Goodnight," you whispered, and with that he went into the other room to retrieve the Hat. You folded your arms over your chest and watched him open a portal. He stepped into it after one last glance at you. The cyclone swirled to a stop and disappeared into the floor.

Months later he showed up at the castle with longer hair and the biggest news you'd heard in years.

"I'm getting married."

The words squeezed your heart and it hurt. You congratulated him through gritted teeth, turned around and gave him one of your phoniest smiles.