The Long Game

by Naqq

Emma breaches an agreement she has with Regina. After Regina never brings it up again, the blonde assumes that Regina has forgiven her and let it go. But has she? Or is the mayor simply waiting for a more perfect and intimate time to strike?

1. Part One

(So sorry that this is one extremely long chapter. I am new to this site and have not gotten the hang it just yet. Additionally, all mistakes are my own; I own none of the characters; and I realize that I am late to the party but I only recently discovered my utter love for Swanqueen smut. Lastly, this could be the first part of a three part series if you guys don't think this first installment is absolutely dreadful. So please feel free to read and review. Thanks!)

Trigger Warning: This didn't occur to me earlier, but someone was rather upset about this story due to a lack of a trigger warning for dubious consent.

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Present time . . .

Friday Night:

"Please . . . I can't . . ."

Her thighs were desperate to connect, to shut out the persistent hand—the relentless digits that refused to grant her a scintilla of reprieve. The hand taunted her; it stroked her and possessed her with a ferociousness that caused her skin to burn. She cast her pleading and bewildered stare to the owner—the resilient culprit of that demanding hand. The deft fingers thrust and twisted with such precision that she couldn't stop her toes from curling. She couldn't stop her hands from grabbing fists full of the satin sheets. Her back arched on its own accord; and her normally low and smooth voice betrayed her with cries and high-pitched screams when those damned fingers stroked her most sacred and sensitive of areas. The skilful fingers coaxed and demanded that her hot liquid come forth and her nectar was forced obey the masterful commands and make its presence known. A pool of her essence spilled from her center, yet again. The heat climbed its way from her shaking thighs and traveled to the pit of her stomach. It slithered between her breastbones and surged free from her gaping mouth as a scream of carnal torture in its purest and rawest form.

"Babe, please! I'm sor—." The plea died on her lips and instantly morphed into a sharp intake of breath.

The headboard met the wall of the bedroom with obscenely violent thuds in an ever-quickening pace. The cracks against the wall mocked her as the rhythm grew louder and more urgent. The black eyes above her, focused and unsympathetic, took it all in. They bore into her, scanning every inch of her face, determined to absorb every movement, every whimper, every cry. Those eyes . . . They demanded her very essence and she was powerless to deny them.

Again, she tried to close her legs—tried to squeeze out the hand and those fingers. A possessive growl emanating from the woman above her told her instantly that it was the wrong move to make. A second hand pressed firmly into her stomach just below her navel while its thumb roughly pressed and circled the bundle of nerves just between her swollen nether lips. The increased pressure against her womb coupled with the hands that seemed to invade her very soul was too much. The claws of yet another climax hooked into her abdomen and raked through her from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. This was not a release. What a foolish word. No, this was a vice. This was a splendid but excruciating death grip coursing through her veins. The fire swelled and pulsed through her blood. Those blasted hands and those angry eyes—stayed with her for the entire journey and followed her hips as she jerked like a madwoman off the mattress. Her body involuntarily met every downward thrust of the three fingers plunging into her. No compassion. No mercy.

"Wider!"

"Ah!" The blonde hissed as the raging brunette forcefully pushed her legs further apart and pinned them with her knees. Emma's hand shook terribly as she reached between their sweaty bodies to grip Regina's wrist. She needed to stop this. She needed to break free before she lost what was left of her mind. She tried, really tried with what pitiful amount of strength she could muster to pull Regina's hand out of her center.

"Unhand me," came the growled warning from the woman on top of her.

"R-Regina," she whimpered. "Regina, please. I-I didn't mean it!"

The olive goddess was unmoved. Her jaw clenched beneath her smooth delicate features before her dangerous tone filled the space between them once more. "Unhand me. Now."

"Please," she tried again.

"Do I need to tie your hands again?"

Emma wept as she released Regina's wrist. Her sensitive core wept with her. The fluid from her body gave itself to Regina with frightening force. No, there was no giving. Regina took it. She pulled it from her and basked in every glorious moment of power. Each touch, each thrust into her sensitive canal spurred her further into the dual dimensions of ecstasy and pain. Regina resumed her vicious tempo, taking all that she wanted from the blonde—owning her, claiming her, detaching her body from her soul only to merge the two together again in a duel to the death. That's what it felt like: a slice of death; it was a merciless plunder of her very being and each climax, each mind numbing orgasm brought her closer and closer to the end of her sanity.

Her thoughts were splintered and tethered pieces of internal and external cries. Through the haze of moans and pleas, she could not help but wonder: How could she have been so stupid to think Regina would just let it go?

Holy hell.

Four Days Earlier . . .

Monday:

Emma huffed and rolled her eyes at the sound of the high heels in the hall. Just one . . . one damn week, she'd like to make it through a shift without hearing the mayor storm through the sheriff's office in those ridiculous shoes. Storybrooke couldn't have more than a couple of hundred people—maybe a few thousand, tops—so who was this woman dressing for? Did it make her feel superior to pay six hundred dollars for shoes just to walk around town and terrorize the residents? People scrambled to get out of her way and many refused to make eye contact with her. Hell, if she got in their way, they apologized. It was nauseating.

"Sheriff Swan?"

Emma looked up from her computer to acknowledge the mayor's presence. In the past, the sheriff never bothered to look up. She would go about whatever she was in the process of doing unless she perceived her full attention was needed. Early on in her role as sheriff, Emma learned that this little habit of hers irked the mayor. So now, in the name of peace, Emma made an effort to acknowledge the mayor's presence with intentional eye contact. It was part of their agreement once they realized that the dynamic of their relationship was . . . changing. Their treaty of sorts was fragile but Emma was determined to make the best of it. They had agreed to keep their dalliances (Regina's word, not hers) private and separate from their working relationship. This new aspect of their relationship could work, they reasoned, so long as it didn't seep over into their working dynamics, both parties adhered to the terms, and so long as it didn't hurt Henry.

It perplexed the sheriff to no end. Outside of the office, in the privacy of her mansion, Regina was almost a bearable and decent human being. But once she put on those sickening heels and tight skirts, she transformed into something that made Emma want to lock the Sheriff's office and deny the brunette access. The fact that they were now sleeping together did nothing to quell Emma's irritation. If anything, seeing a different side of the mayor only served to fuel her anger and frustration for the grade-A bitch that Regina could be in public. Most days she bit her tongue—mainly because of their agreement. In short, Emma would respect Regina in public and her official position as mayor and in return the mayor promised to do the same and not interfere with Emma's position as sheriff. When Emma was good and the mayor was happy with her, Regina could be very generous and—despite telling herself otherwise—nothing made her happier than Regina's brand of . . . generosity. The blonde had decided, after their first night together, that she needed to do whatever it took to hold up her end of the bargain.

"Are you paying attention, sheriff?" The emphasis on her title and the sound of the mayor slamming a folder onto her desk jolted her from her private thoughts.

"Yes, Madam Mayor," she obliged through gritted teeth. Then again, nothing pissed her off faster than Regina's, 'I am mayor hear me roar' attitude. On some days—like today—Emma found it hard to uphold their agreement. While the mayor no longer belittled the sheriff in public, Regina certainly hadn't adopted a sweet and loving tone during working hours. And why in the world did she still find it necessary to come to the sheriff's station all the time? Didn't this woman have anything better to do?

"By all means, Miss Swan, please tell me what I just said."

Emma felt her cheeks flame but she knew she didn't have a comeback just yet. Screw this woman. "Fine, Regina. You caught me. Happy?"

"Careful, Sheriff . . ." The warning in the brunette's voice was quiet but clear.

Emma sighed. Maybe she was in a sour mood, maybe she was being unreasonable, but whatever the true motivation, Emma was certain of one thing beyond a reasonable doubt: she really did not feel like this shit today. "You could always just repeat it, Regina. Everything doesn't have to be such a big deal."

The mayor's pupils dilated into two tiny midnight abysses. Had Emma looked carefully, she would have noticed the ire brimming from those beautiful eyes. Instead Emma glanced down at the folder that Regina placed on her desk.

"Just leave it here, Regina."

"There are a few instructions, sheriff," Regina said through tight lips.

"Aren't there always? You could have just typed up the instructions and put them in the folder. We have an inbox in the hall, you know?" What is your problem, Swan?

Regina closed her eyes and took a deep breath before trying again. Emma was testing her and Regina could not think of a worse way to start a Monday. "The details are a bit sensitive. I deemed it best to relay the instructions in person, Ms. Swan."

"I'm sure you did. It's not like we have phones, computers, or fax machines here."

"You would do well to remember you place, Ms. Swan. I expect a certain amount of consideration and respect from you," Regina declared in a low tone.

Emma scoffed and shifted her gaze back to her computer screen. Everything always had to be so dramatic and about what the precious mayor wanted. Screw this woman.

"And you will look at me when I am speaking to you, sheriff."

"I hear with my ears, Regina," Emma quipped without looking up or missing a beat. This would be the first time Emma tested the boundaries of their 'agreement.' Normally, she would do her best to rein in her snide remarks when they were in public, but this one seemed to slip out all on its own.

Silence.

More silence.

An eerie hush spread through the office. The moment the quip slid from the sheriff's lips, time itself became a hostage. Emma, noticing the deafening quiet and feeling the heat of those black eyes, lifted her gaze once more. The mayor's face was unreadable. Her head was slanted ever so slightly as she examined the blonde woman. Without realizing it, Emma gulped. She watched as Madam Mayor dropped her purse into an empty deputy's chair before pivoting on those ridiculous heels toward Emma's desk. The brunette stopped in front of the generic and outdated office furniture and planted her hands firmly on the desk—reveling in the fact that the position allowed her to look down on the insolent blonde.

"Repeat that." The brunette's request poured over the sheriff and she cursed herself for shivering.

Emma cleared her throat and scanned the room. She had to look away—not because she was scared, of course; but no reasonable person could be expected to stare into those damned black eyes for too long. She sighed before she began. "Look, Regina—."

"Madam Mayor. We've had this discussion," Regina hissed.

"Fine, Madam Mayor. But we also discussed you letting me do my job. I don't need a babysitter."

"But it would appear that you do need a reminder. We agreed, sheriff, that whatever . . . private communications exist between us, we would not allow it to impede our working relationship."

Emma leaned back in her chair and propped her feet on her desk. "In all fairness, Regina, you were a bitch before our 'private communications.' So, I don't see how anything has changed."

Emma's smirk grew into a full grin when the vein on Regina's forehead made its presence known. The mayor leaned in closer to the sheriff, letting her silk blouse fall open just enough to expose the top of her breasts. The tips of Emma's boots nearly grazed the smooth fabric but the sheriff decided she didn't care. Madam Mayor was the one invading her personal space.

"I've warned you about this." The mayor's tone was calm now and almost . . . sweet?

Again, the sheriff gulped but she refused to back down now. "And what this would that be," Emma asked as she too leaned forward. Screw. This. Woman.

The sound of a throat clearing briefly snapped them from the dangerous tango that ensnared both their senses—neither sure exactly how long there had been an audience to their verbal battle of wills. How much did the person hear? Each woman mentally assessed their conversation, wondering if either had said anything that would expose the true nature of their ever-developing bond. Satisfied that the worse the spectator could have heard was the indirect reference of 'private communications', both women released the breath that neither realized they had been holding in. Private communications could mean a number of things. The death glare that Regina was sending Emma all but ensured that those two little words were not likely to be perceived as an indication of a sexual relationship.

"Uh, Madam Mayor? Emma? Everything okay?

Emma shifted in her seat in order to peer around the stubborn woman leaning over her. "Yeah, David. Re—."

"Deputy," Regina interrupted, still not moving a muscle and never taking her eyes off the sheriff. "We need the room."

The silence and lack of retreating footsteps was more potent than any hasty exit could have been. The brunette cast a glance over her shoulder. Thing One stood there rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting back and forth between the mayor and the sheriff, waiting for an explanation.

"That wasn't a request, deputy. The room. Now."

"Ugh. Madam Mayor, the room happens to be the sheriff's station," Emma sighed. "You can't clear out the entire police department because you have a stick up your ass."

Yet again, she discovered exactly the wrong thing to say. She knew it the minute she opened her stupid mouth but she was already knee deep in the swamp of Regina's wrath, so why fight it? Cold onyx eyes raked over her body. The brunette straightened from her leaning position—still not taking her eyes from her prey.

David stood at his desk and watched the scene before him. The two women stared at each other; one standing rigid and lording her height over the other; the second gazing upward with a twinkle of amusement and a challenge in her eyes. The frenemies—or at least so he thought—had reached a stage in their dealings with one another where the town didn't have to suffer the incessant bickering and near knock-down drag-outs that would break out between the two women. No location was sacred or off limits: the library, town hall, the sheriff's station, the mayor's office, the cemetery, hell—the middle of the street!

Then one day . . . it just all went away. The two powerhouses bumped into each other, one entering Granny's and the other leaving. They looked each other in the eyes and well, smiled maybe?

"Madam Mayor," Emma had nearly bowed as she held the door open for Regina.

The diner went still. No one moved, no one breathed. Hell, the eggs in the back on the stove stopped frying.

"Sheriff Swan," the mayor purred as she nodded and glided out of the diner.

At the time, David vaguely recalled hearing a faint, ". . . the hell?" from somewhere in the diner. Looking back now, he was more than a little convinced that the words had come from him.

Now, in the sheriff's office, the two women appeared to be reverting to the days of old but the tension hanging between them was so . . . different. David just couldn't quite put his finger on it. In the past, their conflicts were easy enough to decipher. The origins of their hatred for one another was no big mystery. Regina was threatened by Emma's presence in Storybrooke because of what it could mean for her relationship with Henry. But now, well, crap . . . what now? As far as David knew, they'd resolved those issues and were practically living together with all their family night dinners with Henry and shared PTA events. It was almost peaceful, almost normal. So, David mused inwardly, what made it all go to the dogs this time: "Inadequate" reports? Failure to display the "proper" town meeting etiquette? Ugh, maybe just because it was a Monday and the sun was shining?

Tuesday:

Emma wasn't sure if she was more worried or grateful when the mayor didn't grace the sheriff's station with her quiet but commanding presence. Emma was never one to back down from a fight, never one to cower in the face of adversity. Whenever she felt cornered, irritated, or antagonized she defended herself. Her encounters with Regina were no exception. She fought and challenged the mayor at every turn. She refused, refused to be intimidated—refused to be pushed around by a woman with a god-complex and too much time on her hands. She could handle the threats, she could handle the glares that were hard enough to cut through glass and diamonds. Shoot, she could even handle public belittling and berating. Until yesterday it hadn't occurred to her that she would ever truly fear the mayor. But the calm tone the mayor had adopted sent chills through her every time she played back their encounter in her mind. Yesterday, Regina never raised her voice and never issued a threat. After David refused to leave the station for fear of a physical altercation, Emma felt a sense of security. She couldn't quite explain it, but knowing that this was their first adverse encounter since they began sleeping together made it different somehow. She was grateful for David's presence. A part of her, a larger part than she cared to admit, also loved the fact that she could irritate Regina in front of an audience—no matter how small. It was a sore spot for the mayor and yesterday, Emma was more than happy to poke at that prideful bruise.

"We will finish this later, Sheriff Swan." The statement came after Emma had asked Regina if she thought the taxpayers would appreciate knowing that their mayor habitually used her position and their tax dollars to harass the police department. The comment earned her yet another odd smile before the mayor retrieved the file from Emma's desk and her purse from the empty chair then made her way gracefully toward the exit. "Deputy," she'd said by way of acknowledgement as she passed David on her way out.

Now in the quiet and calm of a new day she racked her brain, trying to understand what exactly it was about the mayor's presence that made her breach the terms of their 'agreement.' It wasn't as though Regina behaved any differently than any other day. Let's be real, Emma. She's a bitch every day. But wasn't that the real issue? Every day. Every. Single. Day. Did the woman never take a day off and leave her bitch cape in the back of her closet?

"I was tired of her bull," she mumbled in response to her own mental query.

When she hadn't heard from Regina last night, she tried not to think too much of it. Monday nights were not their dinner nights so it wasn't that unusual. But now, here it was after one in the afternoon and still no Regina. The silent treatment was not something that she ever would have guessed was in the mayor's arsenal. She sat at her desk and wondered if she should call to make sure that she was still allowed to come to dinner but decided against making the call. They had agreed that Henry would not be affected by their relationship—personal or otherwise—and there was no way one tense day was going to change that. No, Henry was not a bargaining chip and missing dinner with him was not an option. They were not going back to those days. There was no way she would let Regina keep her from Henry. Not again. Never again.

Emma knew that her thoughts were running wild but it was easier to imagine the worst than sit patiently and abide the lack of communication. Shame and guilt stirred in the pit of her stomach before the thoughts could find further purchase in her mind. Regina was her employer, her co-parent, and now at the very least her . . . friend? Maybe the silent treatment was considered effective because the person on the receiving end was left to ponder and worry over situations and scenarios that only existed in his or her mind until that person drove herself absolutely insane. It's been less than a full day, Emma. You'll see them tonight.

"I grabbed you a grilled cheese and a root beer float."

Emma looked up and smiled at David as he handed her a greasy sack and a drink. Leave it to mister gallant to swoop in and save her from her own dark musings without even realizing that she needed to be saved.

"Thanks, David."

"Meh, you seem a bit distracted today. I figured this should fix you right up." He leaned against his desk and chomped on one of his fries. His face fell into an easy and natural smile as they ate their meal in silence.

She wondered just how far she should read into his statements. Did he know about her and Regina? She doubted it—no one knew. Honestly, she wasn't even sure what she knew when it came to dealing with that woman. David knew she was distracted. Could he have bought her comfort food because he knew her tiff was with Regina, her secret lover, and not Regina, her boss and co-parent? She watched him as he dangled a soggy fry in the air and bit the end aggressively before smiling at his own form of entertainment. No way in hell.

As with most days in their sleepy town, the remaining of Emma's day was uneventful—painfully so: no calls, no dogs to chase, not even a report. Makes sense, no action means no paperwork. She and David walked out of the sheriff's station together and she waited while he locked the doors.

"So, what's Regina making tonight? Does she put the same food in rotation like a school cafeteria?"

They both laughed at his little joke.

"Nah, she tries to mix up. She basically ends up making two meals: something that me and Henry will eat without complaining and then something fancy enough for her 'sophisticated' pallet." They cracked up when Emma squared her shoulders and turned up her nose in order to imitate the mayor. "Henry eats her food like I'm going to fight him for it. If I don't lose an arm in the process, I'll try to grab some leftovers for our lunch tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me," David grinned. "I'm headed over to Mary Margaret's," he beamed with a crooked smile. "She likes to cook for me." He was so whipped. Emma knew for a fact that Mary Margaret's food tasted like hot trash covered in Alpo. Yet, every evening after work or after one of his shifts David would head over to his girlfriend's house and eat whatever concoction his adorable girlfriend brewed in her small kitchen. Love makes people crazy. And apparently immune to food poisoning.

They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

Dinner always started at six in Regina's house, but Emma liked to be early. After their blowout yesterday, Emma felt it was important today of all days that she not break that unspoken rule. Whether or not Regina would ever admit it, she expected Emma to be early. Being on time—or barely adequate—was never good enough for the infallible mayor.

As soon as she rang the door bell she heard Henry leaping toward the door and yelling, "She's heeere!" Regina must have loved that.

"Hey, Ma," he smiled up at her and hugged her as she walked inside and closed the door with her foot.

"Hey, kid," she smiled widely at him. He was one of the few people in her life that could pull a genuine smile for her naturally down turned lips.

"Mom made homemade pizzas! She made us our own supremes and a veggie for her. I told her a veggie is just a supreme without meat." He whispered the last part and glanced over his shoulder to make sure Regina was nowhere in sight.

"Ha! I'm with you, kid. Do we have enough time to play a game before we eat?"

"Yeah!" His eyes lit up. "I'm playing an older one but it's one of my favorites."

She followed him into the den and they sat on the floor with their backs against the sofa.

"Yeah, it's a one-player though," he said as he handed her the game controller. "I've been stuck on this level for a while. It's getting on my nerves," he huffed.

"What's the game?"

"God of War. I have all of them on PS3. I don't like the one on PS4."

"Your mom lets you play God of War?"

"Yeah, she doesn't seem to mind these kind of games. I have Dante's Inferno and Heavenly Sword. They're kind of throwbacks, but she lets me play them."

"Throwbacks?"

"They're old, Emma," he said in a slow and exaggerated tone. "Like you and mom."

"Oh really?" Emma eyed the boy before pouncing on him and attacking his underarms. He shrieked and squealed while calling out for Regina.

Emma continued to tickle Henry even when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Without looking she knew Regina was standing in the doorway of the den watching them. "Mom," Henry screamed through his laughter. "Help me! Make her stop!"

"Don't do it, Regina," Emma huffed as she continued to wrestle the boy. "He called us old."

After a moment, the brunette's smoky and sensual voice floated straight through Emma. Even as her voice filled Emma's ear, Emma still couldn't quite bring herself to look at the mayor.

"Is that so, Henry? It seems to me that the punishment fits the crime." Henry tried again to escape the blonde and yelled for his mother to help him. "By all means, carry on, Em-ma." With that, she sauntered away and headed back into the kitchen.

After their exhausting tickle fight, the two made their way into the kitchen to tear into their pizzas. Regina wiped her hands on her apron and joined them at the counter so that they could all eat together. It seemed important to all of them that they ate in the same room and began at the same time and no one—not even Henry—ever once voiced a complaint.

Emma found herself sitting across from the mayor and made herself finally look at the beautiful woman sitting in front of her. The midnight eyes stared back at her and were still as unreadable as they had been the day before. Emma offered a timid smile before turning her attention to her pizza. As soon as she tasted what she considered to be a literal slice of heaven, she instantly regretted her promise to try and bring David any leftovers.

"Mm! This is so good, Regina." The blonde figured that perhaps a bit of flattery would help get her out of the doghouse. Wait . . . was she even in the doghouse?

"Thank you, Emma," she responded smoothly with yet another calm and smooth tone. She gave away nothing and it almost caused Emma her appetite. Almost.

Henry, per his usual, did not allow for much silence during their family dinners. He chattered about school and projects and his teachers. It was heartwarming knowing that he still wanted to share those moments with his parents. Soon enough those inevitable teen years would make their debut and Emma and Regina would likely have an easier time wrestling a bear than getting Henry to answer a question with a word other than "fine."

"Hey, Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Can Emma stay a little later tonight so she can show me how to beat that level on God of War?"

"You already know the answer to that question, young man," Regina answered without even bothering to look up from her pizza.

Of course she eats pizza with a freaking knife and fork.

"Please, I won't be here Friday," he whined.

That caught Emma's attention. Henry was having a sleepover? The pit of her stomach tightened at the thought.

"You will only be gone for the night. I am sure your mother will be more than happy to teach you how to defeat whatever level when you return on Saturday. Wouldn't you, Emma?" Those eyes were on her again and all she could do was nod. "I couldn't hear you, dear."

Emma cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah. Sure thing, kid. So, where's this sleepover?"

"At Nicholas's house. He's got a new game and we're all going to check it out." Henry's excitement was next to tangible. Emma almost envied his carefree innocence and zest for life.

"And Nicholas's parents have assured me there will be some limitations. It is not healthy for you and your friends to spend hours so absorbed in those video games." Regina smirked into her wine glass when she saw Henry roll his eyes at her. He was like his birth mother in so many ways.

Emma watched the exchange and smiled to herself. She hadn't realized how much tension she was holding in until that moment. She feared that what transpired between she and the mayor would cause an awkwardness and a reversal of sorts from their path of improving and moving forward. But in that moment, as she sat in front of the mayor and next to her son, Emma felt silly and paranoid for those fears. Damn that silent treatment. Had that been Regina's plan all along, to make her think that some form of retribution was coming in order to teach her a lesson? If so, Emma had to admit, it was a rather effective way of getting a message across.

With her worries cast aside, Emma focused on what was really important: Henry would be out of the house Friday—all night. When their relationship first entered into the physical stage they agreed that there would be no sex in the house if Henry was home. It didn't manner how late, or how quiet the other promised to be, the rule was clear and solid: if their son was home the two women would just have to control themselves. Because of that bright line rule, Emma and Regina were confined to the occasional afternoons that Henry came home late from school—and sleepovers. Emma loved Henry. She loved him. But she also loved when the kid slept over at a friend's house because sleepovers meant she didn't have to rein in her desires. She didn't have to sneak longing glances at the brunette between bites of her food in hopes of keeping Henry blissfully ignorant.

"What are you going to do while I'm gone, mom," Henry asked Regina.

"Mm, your mother usually keeps me company while you're away, honey," she replied smoothly. Again, her tone and face betrayed nothing.

"Yeah, kid. Us old people have to stick together," Emma chirped with a mouth full of pizza.

The rest of their evening, much like all their evenings, ended as peacefully as it began and Henry headed upstairs after kissing both parents goodnight.

Once alone, the two women stared at each other—neither wanted to look away. Emma realized that she would never tire of looking at Regina, even if she could be a pain in the ass. She sighed as she finally rose to her feet and attempted to gather the dishes from the island.

Regina's hand reached out for hers and stopped her movement. "You don't have to do that, dear. I don't mind taking care of it."

"But you always cook, the least I can do is wash the dishes." It dawned on her that she was practically whining.

"That's very thoughtful of you. How about a rain check? I promise to let you wash my dishes this Friday. Does that suit you, sheriff?"

Just the mention of the word Friday made Emma's pulse quicken. "Y-yeah. Okay, deal." She felt the goofy smile spread across her face before she could stop it. Regina's eyes lowered to her lips and traveled back up to her eyes.

"Excellent. Now come, I'll walk you out." Regina extended her arm toward the kitchen door that led to the main foyer and the front door. Emma walked past her and tried not to focus on the heat radiating from the mayor's body being so close behind her. Ugh, she hated to leave. Emma could get used to this Regina, this agreeable and domestic Regina. This, this was her Regina. The town folks could keep that bitch that showed up from nine to five.

Emma stood at the threshold of the doorway and turned to face the mayor. For the third time in two days, she noted that the mayor's face was a blank slate. She didn't know if she should consider that a good thing or not, but given how smoothly the night had gone, Emma was convinced that the mayor was simply . . . at peace.

"So . . . I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Emma asked sheepishly.

Regina cocked her head slightly to the side, portraying a picture of genuine confusion. "For our dinner with Henry, Miss Swan? Of course."

"Oh," she breathed, truly surprised by the question. "No, I-I just thought maybe you would stop by the station or something . . ." because you have nearly every damn day! Until yesterday . . . Wait, did I hurt her feelings? Is that why she didn't come by?

Regina just eyed Emma, giving her a polite smile before placing her hand on Emma's chest, right below her collar bone. "I'm afraid I have to make preparations for a development that has come to my attention this week." Regina leaned in and grazed her lips against Emma's ear. The blonde shuddered at the contact. "But, please be here by seven Friday night," the brunette whispered.

Emma cleared her throat but found that she could still barely speak. "I'll, um, I'll be here at five-thirty."

Regina stepped back from Emma, her chocolate eyes melting into blackened pools and her expression darkened as she examined the sheriff from head to toe. "I cannot wait to get my hands on you, sheriff." She spoke in a tone so low and serious that it almost sounded like a threat. It was lethal but dipped in honey. And just that quickly, before Emma could ponder the dark expression or deadly tone, both were replaced with that nondescript expression and a genuinely pleasant pitch. "Have a good night. Get home safe, dear."

"Night, Regina," Emma smiled and headed to her car after watching the mayor close the door.

Wednesday:

"Okay, spill it," David blurted after another dull morning and afternoon. "I hate bloodshed as much as the next guy, but at least I wasn't bored. So, how pissed is the mayor? Must be pretty bad if it's stopped her from coming here."

"It's not like that," Emma sighed. "Regina's just been busy lately. She said she's working on some project this week or something," she shrugged.

"Yeah, okay. And you believe that?"

"Well, sure. Regina's nothing if not straightforward. She's just busy."

"Are we talking about the same Regina? Don't be so naïve, Emma," he all but laughed in her face. "When have you ever known Regina to be too busy to come here? You reeeally pissed her off the other day. I'm telling you, something's up."

The blonde leaned back in her chair with a confident smile reaching her high and tinted cheekbones. "Nope. I'm telling you. We're okay. We had dinner last night, same as always and everything was fine."

"If you say so. She's your friend." David rose from his desk and grabbed his keys. He shook his head at the sheriff as he shrugged on his coat and headed out to make his patrol rounds.

Thursday:

Emma dragged herself into work wishing that something would happen. She didn't care what happened, she just needed some kind of action. She needed some form of distraction. She hated to admit it, but without the mayor's daily visitations, there was a void that not even the games she played on her phone could fill. She would give anything for a phone call, a drunk Leroy, a broken levy, a mysterious stranger in town . . . just anything.

She threw her leather jacket over the chair before plopping down. While she couldn't phantom another day of David's small talk and constantly listening for the sound of heels only to be disappointed, she was determined not to succumb to the boredom—the utter nothingness that was Storybrooke. She was determined not to miss the mayor's presence. She sighed at her own pathetic musings. Emma knew she wasn't being honest with herself. It would not have mattered how many calls came to station, how many drunks she locked away, or how many legitimate case files found themselves on her desk. She missed Regina. Sure, they had dinner Tuesday and Wednesday night and each night was their usual family time, but . . . it just wasn't the same. Day three of no office visits from Regina was actually beginning to bother Emma. It was part of their routine—the standoffs, the bickering, the stare-downs. Granted, since the enactment of their agreement, things were better but the tension was still there. The fire rolled between them just beneath the surface and went unnoticed to the naked eye. It was a work of art that only Emma and Regina were privy to and now, well, it was gone. Get a grip, Swan. It's only been three days. You get to see her tomorrow night. She didn't know what Regina was working on, or what project or 'development' had so much of her attention, but Emma knew one thing for sure: she wanted to hear the sound of those heels clacking down the hall. Everything will be back to normal next week.

"Emma . . ."

And what could she be doing that kept her from visiting at all?

"Emma . . ."

I mean, I thought she would have come by at least one freaking day. She can't be that busy! Regina has to stop and eat or something. A few minutes wouldn't kill her.

"Earth to Emma!"

The loud voice startled the blonde from her pensive state. In her attempt to straighten in her chair, she jolted and over corrected, causing the chair to tilt and dump her onto the tiled floor. "Really, Ruby?" Emma winced as she picked herself up from the floor. "Why are you sneaking around scaring people?"

"Seriously, dude? I called your name like a couple times." The younger brunette smiled, trying to recover from her laughing fit.

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

Ruby stared at Emma before rolling her eyes. "My shift is about to start. You said last week I was supposed to cover for David."

You're losing your mind. She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. "Right, right—I forgot. Sorry."

"Geez, what crawled up your butt and died?"

"Nothing," Emma sighed. "I'm bored."

Ruby looked around the empty sheriff's station. "Yeah," Ruby leaned against her deputy's desk and smiled across the room at Emma. "I hear it's been . . . quiet lately."

Emma wanted to slap that stupid grin off her face. The younger brunette with her large observant eyes and her wide toothy grin peered at the blonde with endless amusement. Without even asking, she knew Ruby had heard about her run in with Regina.

As if Ruby could hear her thoughts the brunette chimed in, confirming what she already knew. "So," the brunette began, that infuriating smile still claiming her delicate features. "Where's the good old mayor? I hear she hasn't been here since you two had a showdown."

"It wasn't a 'showdown'. You know how we get."

"I don't know, Em," Ruby tsked. "David thinks she's plotting your murder." Another of her rich laughs rang through the sheriff's station.

"Listen, Regina and I are good. We're friends and we have an understanding now. Things are better." Emma knew that Ruby was speaking in jest but she still felt a bit protective over the mayor.

"Okay, but let's be real; when have you ever known Regina to just let something go?"

"Ugh," Emma couldn't help but laugh at David and Ruby's imagination. Sure, the old Regina would have held a grudge and exacted some public and humiliating revenge. But the new Regina, her Regina was not like that. No, two nights of eating as a family, pleasant conversation, and making eyes at each other across the table convinced Emma beyond all else. She and Regina were in a good place. They were making progress and were very likely on their way to becoming . . . more. Regina was developing into something softer and more mature. Sure, she still had her fire—so much damn fire—but she could tell Regina was learning to let things go. Right?

"Mary Margaret thinks—"

"Come on, Ruby! Did you guys have a meeting or something? It wasn't that bad."

"Mary Margaret thinks," she rolled her eyes and continued, "that Regina is adding a little poison to your food every night." Ruby rubbed her hands together and let out an evil laugh. "We're all pretty much just waiting for you to keel over. You know, I volunteer as a candy striper at the hospital, so I can come visit you when she puts antifreeze in your cider." The laughter rang in Emma's ears and again she couldn't help but laugh along.

Ruby may have been crazy with a wild imagination, but she was fun and that definitely made the time go by faster.

Emma shook her head at her friend. "You're such a nut."

Friday (Sheriff's Station):

"Well, someone's certainly in a good mood this morning."

Yeah, because in eight and a half hours I'll be out of this time warp and fingers deep—

The station's telephone blared through the shabby office tearing the blonde from her intimate thoughts. "This is Sheriff Swan."

"Hey, Emma."

"Mary Margaret, hi." Emma's smile brightened when she saw David stand taller and puff his chest at the sound of her friend's name. "She can't see you, you know," she mouthed to him and rolled her eyes playfully before handing him the phone and settling at her desk.

She couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. David sat at his desk and leaned back in his chair with that childish grin on his face. He ran is fingers through his dark sandy hair and chuckled at something Mary Margaret was saying. If only she and Regina could find that easy flow of conversation outside the privacy of the mayor's mansion. Couldn't they have daily conversations and take strolls down the street? Couldn't they be at Granny's together without Henry and just . . . be together? It startled her to realize how much she wanted that—how much she wanted to be with Regina. She wanted all of her. She wanted the brunette's coldness, her quiet anger, her heated stares, her passionate kisses, her unreasonable demands, and her surprisingly compassionate nature. She wanted all of it. She craved the woman. She needed her. Regina invaded her senses and not being able to see her at the sheriff's station for the fourth day in a row was akin to torture. How in the hell had she gone from being sorely vexed by the brunette's presence constant shadow to needing it? She was going through withdrawals. Regina had turned her into an addict. She missed the way the mayor sat on top of her desk with her legs crossed at the knees and her tight skirts riding up her thighs. Had it really been so bad, seeing Regina at the sheriff's station every day? Regina Mills was an exquisite molten substance that burned to the touch, but Emma could never seem to sate her hunger. Two thoughts crossed her mind as she continued to watch her deputy grin into the phone: one, she had to show Regina just how desperately her absence bothered her—she had to make her understand what four days of her absence during working hours had done to her; and two, she had let Regina know that the brunette not coming to visit her at the sheriff's office was not an option. Even if no one else knew the true nature of their relationship . . . hell, even if Emma didn't know the true nature of their relationship, she realized that she still needed to see that vexing . . . impossible . . . tantalizing woman.

"I love you too," she heard him say before finally putting the phone back on its receiver. "So," David turned his attention to the blonde sheriff. "Any plans this weekend?"

"Eh, nothing really. Henry has a sleepover tonight so Regina and I are just going to have a girls' night," Emma relayed in a bored tone. Just the mere thought of being alone with Regina caused an urgent throbbing between her legs.

David released an astonished laugh and his crystal eyes stared into green orbs with nothing short of amazement. "I don't know what you did," he said shaking his head, "but the Regina I know would have never had a girls' night." He laughed again and scratched his head playfully at the thought. "Did you slip her something?"

"Me? I thought you and Ruby were convinced that she was putting something in my food."

"Oh we're sure of it."

"Yeah, whatever."

"What do you guys do, anyway? Regina doesn't exactly strike me as the girls' night type. You guys don't seriously sit around and gossip and talk about your man problems, do you?"

"Oh, man." Emma groaned. "Could you imagine? Ha! I think she really would poison me then." They fell into another easy laughter. There was no way in hell she could tell David what happened on the days and nights that she and Regina were alone together. No, as agreed, what was happening between the two women would remain a secret.

Emma did her best not to watch the clock on the wall throughout the rest of the day. She failed miserably—complete and utter failure. She stalked the blessed hour that she pined for, willing the five o'clock hour to come set her free so that she could finally, finally be in the presence of the one person she desired to see the most. Instead, time and that pesky hour proved to be an elusive prey and refused to bend to her impatient staring. 2:54? Seriously? Why do you hate me? She could ask David to play a round of darts, but that was her pass-time when she was alone and bored at the sheriff's station. Besides, without the thrill of risking being caught by Regina, what was the damn point?

The blonde wasn't sure what irritated her more: the fact that time itself seemed satisfied to stand still and mock her desperation; or, the fact that David seemed content to just kick back and enjoy such a fruitless Friday. Seriously, Tuesday he was practically climbing the walls because he too felt the sting of boredom in the sheriff's station. What changed? How was he so at ease staring at a stupid computer screen all day?

3:17

4:06

4:08. 4:08? Absolutely not. The clock on the wall had to be broken—nevermind that she could hear the faint ticking—it was still broken. The digital display on her computer told her the same sad story. It was a conspiracy—hateful machine was old anyway and probably riddled with viruses.

"Ya know," David smiled without looking up from his computer screen, "giving that clock the evil eye isn't going to make a difference. Hang in there, Swan."

"Shut up, David."

"Just saying. Find a way to pass the time, Emma."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"Cat videos," he beamed.

Emma's jaw practically hit the floor. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, Mary Margaret and I watch them together. They're cute."

"Who are you?" Emma stared at David with mock horror. Was that what fate had in store for her? Snuggling on the couch with Regina and watching cat videos? Did love really turn people into doe-eyed whimsical fairies flinting about without a care in world? Love? I don't love her. I just want her . . . all the time. I mean, I wouldn't say no if she asked me to watch a cat video. Emma forced herself away from her private torment when she felt the familiar stirrings of panic blossom in her bosom. It wasn't the first time that four-lettered word crept into her psyche regarding that illustrious brunette. She didn't love her, she didn't. She just needed her, to breathe her in—to feel the silk of her hair sliding through her fingers. The sheriff needed those blood red lips against hers and those deceptively proficient hands to rake over her body. If they happened to watch a few clips of domestic felines in between . . . then no big deal. Let's be real, Regina would stab me with one of her heels if I pulled up a CAT video. Emma couldn't help but laugh at the mere thought. No, David and Mary Margaret could keep their 'cute' videos. Emma would take her complex relationship with Regina—even on a bad day.

"What's so funny," David asked.

"Just wondering if Mary Margaret ever lets you visit your balls? Where does she keep them?"

David howled in good natured laughter. He doubled over and his mirth reverberated through the small station. "On the kitchen counter. She lets me visit them whenever I want."

They cackled until Emma felt her eyes water. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she laughed until she cried.

"Make fun now, but one day you'll meet a guy—a bad boy, I'm guessing. You know, some dark mysterious fellow that makes you want to do all kind of stuff you never thought you'd do," he smiled cockily. "One day, they're going to yell timber over you, Emma. And when you fall, I'll try not to say 'told ya'."

Her smile faltered as she looked away from her colleague. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes and she hoped that he would remain too lost in his own merriment to notice the change in her demeanor. "If you say so," she joked half-heartedly. Emma was grateful that he didn't seem to notice and that the awkwardness she now felt in the atmosphere was apparently one-sided. What Emma found truly bothersome was not the fact that David's 'prophecy' included a guy, but that minus the assumption that Emma's soul mate was a man, David had just described . . . well, Regina. What is happening to me?

5:03

Yes!

"See? That wasn't so bad." David powered down his computer and grabbed his coat from his chair. His smile widened when he saw that Emma was already standing at the threshold of the station's entrance. "Ha! That must be some hell of a girls' night you two have planned."

"Definitely," she quipped as she flashed a goofy lop-sided grin. "We're going to paint our nails and read Cosmo." Emma flipped her hair and batted her eyes.

"Emma, stick with what you know. You're a tomboy down to your soul," he laughed.

"Well I thought it was pretty good," she grumbled as they walked out together. "I can be a girly-girl. I can go full valley girl or straight diva."

"Trust me, leave the diva attitude for Regina, she's mastered it."

"Hey, she's not a diva."

"That's right, somehow hell froze over and she's your new best friend."

Emma abdomen bubbled with laughter. "Have a good weekend, David."

"Yeah you too, Emma. Try not to have too much fun," David joked as he and Emma locked up the sheriff's office for the evening.

You have no idea.

Friday Evening:

Regina Mills examined herself in the full length mirror as she ran her slender hands over her frame. The strapless charcoal dress hugged her hips in a manner that even she found to be utterly enticing. She fluffed her hair one last time before walking out of her bedroom and heading down stairs.

Tonight was going to be perfect . . . everything was in place and she had been preparing for and anticipating this evening all week. All week. It had been so hard to stay away from the blonde these last four days, but it was necessary for her plan. On more than one occasion during the week her thoughts turned to the blonde who she presumed was sitting idly by at the sheriff's station. It would have been so easy to grace the station with her presence, but her pride and anger would not let her succumb to any such notions. She'd grown so accustomed to the blonde being such a permanent fixture in her life that it had never occurred to her that she wouldn't see the sheriff nearly every day. Even if that uncomfortable truth was not solidly planted in her brain—the fact that she had to see Emma—there was one other truth, a more welcoming factor that could not be ignored: No one, not one damned person would ever tell her when or where she could go or how often. Ha, a babysitter indeed.

She would not be disrespected and she would not be dictated to. If she and Emma were going to be together then the blonde had to learn that her enticing mouth had the power to bring either punishment or reward.

Be together? Absolutely ridiculous.

No, Regina did not want to be with Emma. Claim her? Yes. Give and receive pleasure? Without question. Get lost in that sheepish smile and those child-like eyes that reminded her so much of her son at times? Yes, but these things did not amount to love. For heaven's sake, the blonde woman was immature, reckless . . . she had no self control. She had . . . an extremely talented mouth and the stamina to prove her athletic prowess. Regina shook the thoughts from her head. She couldn't allow herself to get distracted. She had a specific goal in mind and she needed to stay focused. Tonight, she would make her point and she had to ensure that Emma understood the message loud and clear.

Emma, that idiot—her idiot, was heading straight into the abyss of Regina's retribution, in approximately . . . Regina glanced at her watch . . . fifteen minutes and the gorgeous fool didn't have a clue. Her trap had been laid so perfectly. The mayor had made sure that the two women carried on with their regular meals all through the week. She needed Emma to be calm, relaxed . . . unsuspecting. After all, Regina was not blind. She had taken notice of how nervous Emma seemed that first night after . . . after she forgot her place and breached the terms of our agreement. The brunette's nostrils flared as a fresh wave of anger coursed through her body. It pulsated through her veins like lava consuming an unprotected river and transforming the tranquility of the stream into a mass of crimson fury. She licked her lips with anticipation as she thought of all she planned to do to the blonde. Emma had to learn. She had to be trained. After tonight, the blonde would think long and hard about the potential consequences of her actions.

The doorbell chimes announced the arrival of her special guest. Regina sighed happily as she glided to the front door. Truly, the young woman had brought this on herself. Yes, she has to be taught, Regina mused deviously before schooling her features into a pleasant smile as she opened the door. The attractive blonde stood there with one hand on her hip and that gaudy leather . . . pleather . . . jacket and an overnight bag thrown over her shoulder.

"Emma," she purred.

"Hey, Regina."

The brunette could smell the swirl of expectation and desire radiating from the younger woman. It filled her senses and she licked her lips slowly, smiling when she saw the blonde stare longingly at her slightly parted and now moist lips.

"Right on time. Come in, dear." she smiled as she stepped aside.

Emma squeezed past her. Regina barely managed to stifle the moan lodged in her throat when she felt the blonde's chest graze her arm as she entered the mansion. Oh sweetheart, you won't be able to blink by the time I'm done with you.

Regina closed the door after the blonde and bolted the locks—sealing the sheriff's fate. Emma literally had no idea what she had just walked into.

Friday Night (The Reckoning):

Once Emma heard the locks click, she hurled around and pressed the mayor against the large white door. The two slender women pressed their foreheads together and closed their eyes—each needing to breathe in the other woman's scent.

"I missed you, Gina," Emma whispered while letting her jacket and bag fall to the floor.

Regina smirked knowingly. "You saw me last night, Emma." Of course she knew the context of the blonde's statement. It would make tonight all the more enjoyable. You shall have more of me than I believe you are ready for, sheriff.

Emma gripped the mayor's slender hips and wedged her jean-clad thigh between the mayor's legs. Regina grabbed the back her Emma's neck locking her hands together and Emma pushed the brunette's tight dress up past her hips and rocked her muscled leg back and forth between Regina's smooth legs. The brunette shifted and hooked her arms under Emma's armpits and grabbed on to the strong shoulders. Her moans spilled directly into Emma's left ear. They panted and gripped each other tighter as Regina thrust down on Emma's leg. It was so perfect. The blonde's leg was positioned just right. Regina needed this. She realized that she had to have this now, she had to have at least one climax before she could begin punishing Emma. She couldn't allow her own need to hinder her plans. She had thought too long and carefully about how she would break the blonde and she would be damned if she got in her own way.

"Emma!" Her hips twitched against the leg and her clitoris throbbed as the blood rushed to the sensitive tissue. She gasped the blonde's name and tightened her grip on the sheriff as she rode the euphoria. Now, now she could focus.

Emma waited until she was sure Regina had calmed and could stand on her own before she moved away from the brunette and released her from her entrapment. The brunette pushed herself away from the door and cleared her throat.

"Well, that certainly was an . . . unexpected greeting," she blushed.

The blonde examined her handiwork and plastered an irritatingly cocky smile on her face. "Yeah, what can I say? I like my hugs to be thorough," she shrugged.

Regina smoothed down her dress and raked her manicured hands through her hair. It had taken her an hour to get ready and Emma had destroyed all her efforts and hard work in a matter of minutes.

"It's not a terrible start to our evening, Miss Swan. Now, how about dinner and then we can delve into more . . . interesting pursuits?" Regina took Emma's hand and led her toward the dining room.

"We're not eating in the kitchen?"

"Not tonight, dear. I thought an intimate meal by candle light would be nice."

Emma furrowed her brows at the mayor's reply. "What's the special occasion?"

"This is the first private moment you and I have had since—"

"Nine days ago, Regina," Emma offered, almost bitterly. "We haven't been able to touch each other for nine days."

"Fine. Either way, I've been looking forward to this time with you."

"Really?" The blonde's eyes lit up.

"Yes," Regina admitted. "You are all I have been able to think of these past few days." Her tone dropped again to one that Emma could have sworn she heard a few nights ago. It was cryptic and slightly menacing. If Regina was nearly as frustrated as Emma, then her tone was likely the by-product of the caged sexual tension that the two women had not been able to release onto each other. It wasn't lethal, Emma told herself. Regina was simply just as horny as she was and they both needed to do something about it.

Emma sat at the table and took in the scene before her. The light from the red candles on the table played beautifully against the stark white walls of the dimly lit room. Regina was right, it was nice and intimate. The brunette emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and a bottle of her apple cider. Emma thought of Ruby when she saw the cider and couldn't help but chuckle. If Regina noticed, she didn't say a word. She merely continued her role as the graceful server by bringing out their meals.

Emma stared down at the plate before her. The hell? Has she been hanging out with Mary Margaret? Cat videos, here I come. "Regina, uh what is this?"

Regina smirked as she positioned herself across from the obviously repulsed sheriff. "It's called an Antipasto salad, dear."

"The anti pasta? Blasphemy food, Regina?"

Regina's smooth laughter filled the cozy setting before she spelled the name of the dish for the ignorant woman. "It's an Italian dish, dear. Some people make theirs without pasta, but I find that I enjoy adding tortellini to my dish."

"What else is in it," the blonde asked while picking through the colorful meal.

"Mm. Lettuce, salami, fresh mozzarella, artichokes, tomatoes, and pepperoncini. There's a bit of my homemade vinaigrette that I'm fairly proud of. Try it, dear. Trust me, you'll like it. Besides, I can't allow you to eat anything too heavy tonight—bottomless pit though you may be." Regina poured herself a glass of her cider and filled Emma's as well.

"Huh? Why do I need to eat light?" The blonde scrunched her face, not comprehending why how much she ate meant anything to Regina or their night together.

The mayor licked her red lips before she answered. Her words were deliberate, slow, and still there was that certain . . . deadly quality that made the sheriff's mouth run dry. "Because, sheriff, I have no desire for you to experience abdominal pangs and ruin our time together. We have a long night ahead of us."

Emma chuckled at the explanation. "Regina," she started, thinking the brunette obviously didn't understand what she was saying. "You're not supposed to eat a large meal before rigorous exercises, that's what causes . . ."

Regina's smile spread across her entire face as a brick of realization slammed into Emma. "I stand by my statement, Ms. Swan."

Emma fought down the nervous lump that formed in her throat. Without further protest, she delved into her antichrist pasta with an eagerness she didn't know she had. She hummed in appreciation as she devoured the spicy dish. It was delicious. Yet, even if it hadn't been—even if it had been a Mary Margaret signature dish, there was no way in hell she was going to ruin the night with something as juvenile and embarrassing as stomach cramps. No, she'd starve before she let that happen.

Emma cleared her throat, she had to change the subject or they wouldn't make it through their meal. "So," she began casually. "How was your week?"

Regina lifted her schooled gaze to meet the blonde's eyes. Remember her 'super power'. Regina settled for avoidance veiled in the cloak of truth. "Not very eventful, I must say—just the usual workings of my office when we are not in our reports and meetings seasons. Aside from the development I mentioned earlier, there was nothing out of the ordinary."

The blonde studied the brunette for a moment before nodding and accepting her answer.

"How about you, Emma?"

"How about me, what?"

Idiot. "How was your work week, dear?"

"Ugh, please. We were bored out of our minds, Regina. David played with his food and watched cat videos. I prayed that someone would steal something—break something—do something. Anything!"

Regina chuckled as the blonde continued to describe how excruciating her week had been. Despite the utter nothingness the blonde described, Regina knew the truth. Emma missed seeing Regina at the sheriff's station. She had recognized the look of guilt on the sheriff's face when Emma arrived at her home that Tuesday night.

"But enough about my horrible week." Emma hesitated before she continued. "So what was this mysterious 'development' that had all your spare time this week." What had you so busy that you couldn't come see me? Not even once?

The blood red lips pursed together in a tiny smirk. Emma was not sure how she was supposed to read the mayor's face.

"Oh there's no mystery, Ms. Swan. In fact, it involves you," the mayor again took the safe track and carefully disguised her elusive answer with a truthful statement. She morphed her features into an open and unassuming canvas and perfectly played the part of someone providing a normal answer to a seemingly innocent question.

"Really?" The blonde leaned forward eagerly.

"Mm, indeed. I will share the details with you later tonight," she sighed. "But yes, I spent the week gathering what we would need."

Emma did a poor job of hiding her curiosity and excitement. Finally some action was coming. Regina needed her help with something. Regina needed her. Whatever it was, Emma was sure that after they made love, Regina would tell her all about it and then they would have to meet on a regular basis next week to go over their plans. She smiled to herself, satisfied and comforted with the fact that she would get to see her Regina back at the station. They ate the rest of their meal in a comfortable silence. Emma couldn't help but periodically glance up at the mayor and offer a shy smile. Regina was so beautiful and Emma couldn't recall the exact moment it happened, but she felt so . . . at home in the mayor's presence.

After they finished their meals, Emma grabbed their dishes and empty wine glasses and headed toward the kitchen.

"Really, Emma. You don't need to do that now." Regina's protest was merely for show. She had planned this night down to every possible detail and she knew the blonde would want to make good on her promise to wash the dirty dishes. In fact, she counted on it.

"Save it, Regina. You promised I could." Emma stalked off with the items.

"Fine," the brunette sighed, "very well." She followed Emma into the kitchen and watched as the blonde began to fill one side of the sink with dish water and the other with rinsing water. She waited patiently for the blonde to turn off the faucet before she crept up behind her and wrapped one arm around the blonde's toned waist. And so it begins.

Emma shivered at the feel of Regina's breasts pressed against her tank top. "H-hey," she cleared her throat. "I'm trying to clean up here."

Regina brushed Emma's golden mane to one side before her tongue snaked out and licked the tip of Emma's ear. The mayor smiled at the sound of a plate plopping back into the soapy water and clinking against the other kitchenware. "By all means, Ms. Swan, continue."

The mayor rubbed her warm hand over the front of Emma's jeans and stroked the lapel that hid the zipper.

"Knock it off, Regina." Emma's breathy laugh hitched in her throat as she whined from the pressure of the mayor's hand against her pelvis. Regina unbuttoned Emma's jeans and began to pull the zipper down. Emma's voice trembled as she spoke to the mayor. "Regina, h-how am I supposed to do this i-if you keep doing that?"

"Figure it out. I better not hear one dish break, do you understand me?" She hissed into the quivering woman's ear. "You said that you missed me, Emma." She licked her earlobe again and shoved her hand into the front of Emma's tight jeans. "I simply wish to see how much," she finished innocently.

"Re-Regina . . ."

"Continue, Emma. They're not going to wash themselves, dear."

Emma's head fell back onto Regina's shoulder at the first feel of the older woman's fingers against her underwear.

"I can't. You're driving me crazy."

"We had a deal. Wash the dishes, Emma."

Regina pressed her fingers firmly against Emma's panty-covered lips and worked her fingers in circular motions until the blonde was grinding against her hand and nearly crushing it against the kitchen sink. Each heavy downward stroke caused her fingers to flick the tip of Emma's clitoris. The blonde grunted and sighed each time the tiny bud was assaulted. Regina wrapped her free arm tightly around the blonde and placed kisses on the back of her neck. She was going to claim the blonde right there in the kitchen. Emma was hers. And tonight, starting right then and there, Emma was going to have to learn the expectations Regina had for her.

"I don't hear you washing," the brunette ground out sternly. She moved her hand faster.

"Ah! S-s-seriously, Regina?!"

Emma could barely keep her eyes open. With each stroke her face morphed further into to a perfect picture of an orgasm that had yet to manifest but that was certainly making its impending arrival known.

"You gave me your word. Do it!"

She dropped the plate again into the water but couldn't seem to care.

"Babe, you gotta stop or I can't," she half panted, half gasped.

The mayor laughed darkly and licked the sweat from the back of Emma's neck. "Understand me, sheriff. I'm not stopping until I can see my reflection in every plate and utensil in that damned sink." Again, she quickened her pace and pressed more firmly against Emma's swollen labia. She could feel the blonde's body beginning to tense. Regina would not deny the beauty her climax. No, she would draw it from her and let it slam back into her with a force that would surely knock her over if the brunette were not standing behind her. No, she would not deny her. She would force it from her and then, before the blonde could even piece together her last name, she would start it all over again. They would stand there as long as it took. They would stand there all night if they had to. Plans or no plans, no one was leaving that kitchen until Emma Swan washed those dishes. If Regina had to fuck her one plate or one fork at a time, then so be it.

The sheriff cried out, gripping the edge of the kitchen sink when the first wave knocked her over. She heaved and panted, gasping out Regina's name in a heated chant that brought a cruel smile to the brunette's face.

After a moment, Emma attempted to pull away. She assumed that once she'd ridden out her orgasm that Regina would move away from her and let her actually wash the dishes . . . but the brunette stayed put. The older woman kept their bodies welded together with a strength that Emma had never taken the time to notice. The blonde whimpered when she realized that Regina's hand was still between her legs. She nearly cried when she felt Regina's hand start to move again and still the blonde had not washed one dish, not one.

The mayor sighed with utter contentment when she finally slipped her hand inside of Emma's underwear. The natural lubrication greeted her and invited her to its habitat. Her two fingers pursued the liquid and thrust roughly into the tight canal from which the nectar came. The walls of the silky cavern welcomed her home and squeezed her excavating fingers as she pushed deeper until her palm met the blonde's clitoris.

"I won't ask you again, Emma. Wash the dishes."

Regina began thrusting in earnest, her forceful ministrations making the blonde's hips thrust back into Regina's pelvis.

"Okay!" Emma cried out. " 'Gina, okay!"

She was desperate. She felt the next attack of heat aiming for her and she didn't think she would be able to handle a continued onslaught. Those hands were too knowing and those strokes were too precise. Her trembling hands released the edge of the sink and she reached yet again into the now lukewarm water to retrieve a plate. She did her best to scrub the plates with the scour pad. She cried out when Regina slowed the pace to hard deep thrusts, pressing against the most susceptible area of her inner being with every artful movement. The blonde scrubbed those plates like her life depended on it. She attacked the forks and the wine glasses with the same motivation but it was too late. The fire burst through her belly and seized control of her mind before she could tell Regina that she was finished. She bucked wildly toward the kitchen counter and Regina held on for the ride. Held on? No, she was the conductor of this freight train.

"It's done! It's done," she kept gasping through her orgasm. Even after Regina pulled away from her, she continued her mantra—a part of her fearful that Regina would reach for her again. She slumped over the sink and waited for her knees to stop shaking and for her breathing to return to normal.

Regina stood behind the blonde and surveyed the heaving mess before her. She sucked Emma's juices from her fingers—still never taking her eyes from the blonde's trembling form. She smiled as she glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall; it was only just past seven-thirty. The night is so young. How delightful.

"Very nice, sheriff."

The blonde jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. Even in that moment, skittish and spent, her desire for the woman poured over her.

"Come, Emma. I have made preparations for our night together."

Emma turned and saw Regina's hand extended. She reached out, as though in a daze, to accept the hand and allowed herself to be led up the stairs. She ignored the soreness between her legs and her weak knees. The evening had barely begun and already Regina had her considering tapping out and suggesting they spend the rest of their time together some other way. Surely now Emma would be allowed to please the mayor and the two women could slip into a satisfied slumber. Yet, the moment Emma followed Regina and entered into the master bedroom, she had a feeling in the pit of her gut that Regina had something completely different in mind.

Regina turned to face Emma. Their lips met for a slow and sensuous kiss before Regina stepped around the blonde to close and lock the bedroom door. Had Emma turned around, she would have seen the mayor remove the key and place it under a notepad on the mahogany desk that was against the left wall nearest to the door. No one was leaving. As a precaution, the mayor had already locked and removed the keys from the balcony door before Emma arrived.

Emma remained glued to her spot facing the bed. Regina circled around the blonde slowly, giving her time to take in her surroundings. She knew Emma noticed the boxes on the nightstand, the scarf covering up some items on her vanity, and the storage cooler in front of the nightstand beside the bed.

"What's all this," Emma asked good-naturedly, not even slightly suspicious. Her body was still recovering from Regina's demonstration in the kitchen. The older woman obviously had something up her sleeve and Emma's freshly manhandled center clenched with expectation.

"Just a few essentials for the evening, dear."

Regina continued to circle Emma. She knew she could not allow too much time to pass before her next round of onslaughts. Not tonight. Regina couldn't have that; she couldn't allow Emma to recoup her senses—not if she was going to turn the blonde into a blithering and incoherent mess. She stopped in front of the sheriff and pulled her toward the bed.

Regina side-stepped the blonde and pushed her with more force than necessary. Emma plopped gracelessly onto the California king and leaned back on her elbows while her feet dangled off the bed. Emma gazed up at the mayor as though she were in a dream. How on earth had she managed to get the attention of someone like Regina Mills? Emma let her hungry eyes roam over the brunette. She watched with rapt attention as Regina, this minx, this exotic Siren sank to her knees and removed Emma's boots, taking her socks along with them. She tossed them carelessly to the side.

"Your pants, Emma. Your underwear. Now." Regina's dark eyes met Emma's and the blonde felt herself being pulled toward the rocks of the ocean that was created by none other than Hurricane Regina.

Emma lifted her shaky hips in order to allow Regina to pull them down her legs. The brunette snatched the pants and panties free and threw them over her shoulder. She tore her heated gaze from Emma's dazed eyes and leered at the glistening offering that was now inches from her face and completely uncovered.

"You will remember this night, sheriff," she whispered before diving between Emma's legs and sending her tongue directly into the younger woman's core.

Emma's slender hips sprung from the bed, feeding more of herself into the greedy mouth beneath her. Regina's hands cupped Emma's behind and forced her higher off the bed in order to drink more deeply from the woman. The sheriff was lost. Her was being taken on a journey in a strange land and she found little familiarity in her surroundings. While Regina could certainly be demanding and energetic in bed, there was a certain . . . savagery . . . a particular primitive quality that seemed to be birthed from the deepest caverns of the mayor's being. Emma had never experienced this before. The suckling and tongue lashings between her thighs were beastly and each dominating pressure and flick heaped upon her brought forth the cries of a madwoman.

"Oh, shit!"

She slammed her head back on the bed and her back arched until nearly only her shoulder blades touched the bed. The first climax trampled and stomped its way through her as though she were nothing. It raided her body and took every ounce of energy it could find. The burst of lights behind her eye lids swayed back and forth, dancing in the darkness of her closed eyes and moving to the rhythm of the apex of her orgasm. She collapsed on the bed—her lifeless body hummed with exhaustion and appreciation. Regina.

She ran a tired hand through Regina's now tussled hair and stroked the crown of her head. The brunette lifted her head and only then did Emma see, only then did the mayor purposefully let her mask fall in order to show Emma the pure unadulterated fire-breathing anger. The brunette was seething.

"R-Regina?" Emma pushed herself on her elbows once more and back pedaled to the center of the bed—away from the brunette. She couldn't explain the exact moment it hit or how she knew, but the moment the mayor advanced toward her, Emma began to piece together that all was not well. Regina crawled between Emma's legs once again. The brunette held Emma's legs open with her forearms and she sank her tongue back into Emma. "Ah!" Without thinking, she grabbed fists full of Regina's hair and attempted to pull the brunette away from her sensitive core.

Regina lifted her head and bore her black eyes into Emma's frightened green ones. "Let's play a game, sheriff. Hm?" The smile on the brunette's face burned its image into Emma's scattered brain. "You are not to touch me. Do you understand?"

When the blonde failed to reply, Regina intertwined three of her fingers together and thrust them harshly into the blonde. She slammed into the woman until Emma's heaving gasps became near hysteric cries. She was about to come again. "Yes!" She cried out as her hands snapped to the sheets and pulled at them for dear life. "I got it! I understand!"

Regina pulled her hand from Emma's drenched center and lowered her head again. Just before taking Emma into her mouth, she stared at the woman and spoke carefully to ensure Emma understood every word.

"I warned you, Emma."

Warning, she thought frantically. What warning? We haven't even talked really except for the family dinners and those barely lasted two hours! We haven't said two words to each without Henry around since . . . oh no.

Full realization hit the blonde as Regina's lips descended on her mound. The peak of her orgasm returned and Regina forced her to ride right through it; and then brought her back to the edge of the cliff—showed her the rocks and the steep fall—and pushed her over it again.

She inhaled large amounts of air and blinked rapidly, praying that the room would stop spinning. Regina ordered her to sit with her back against the headboard. Despite her apprehension, the blonde felt a force greater than herself move her into position. Regina reached over to the nightstand for one the nondescript boxes. Her evil smile reached her black eyes as she studied the blonde's face. Emma was staring at the box. Her labored breathing became more pronounced she watched Regina slowly open the box.

"Now, Sheriff Swan. Let's begin with box number one." Her lusty cackle filled the room.

Emma's eyes widened at the contents of the box. " 'Gina, no," she sputtered nervously. She was considering bolting from the bed and making a run for it but she was trapped between the mayor and the headboard. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Emma whimpered and pleaded with her peridot eyes.

"Oh, you will be, sweetheart," she hissed as she hiked up her dress and straddled Emma. "I can guarantee you after tonight, Ms. Swan, you will heed me and respect my title."

Regina leaned down and captured Emma's lips into a bruising kiss before invading her mouth with that deliberate and heat-seeking tongue. Regina grabbed one of Emma's arms and pressed it firmly into the headboard before securing her wrist with a thick black leather shackle. She quickly did the same to the second wrist and leaned back to survey the masterpiece of a scantily-clad Emma Swan restrained on her bed.

Regina climbed off of Emma and slid down her body yet again. The blonde was a quivering and sensitive ball of nerves and Regina could not care less. The brunette took the blonde's labia into her mouth and sucked her. She pushed her tongue between the swollen and compressed lips and attacked Emma's clitoris with one goal in mind: to fuck the smart ass mother of her child within an inch of her life . . .

Present time, the morning after . . .

Her limbs protested and rebelled against her. She willed her arms to move but they remained tangled in the sheets. Her legs proved just as useless. Her entire body betrayed her, simply refusing to so much as twitch. The mere thought of trying to get out of bed made her back and neck ache. Emma gave up the struggle against her own body and relaxed her muscles as best she could. Her green eyes took in the stucco pattern of the mayor's ceiling and examined every detail. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen the ceiling before. Many a night she had been on her back with the white ceiling being the only thing her eyes could focus on in the darkness. But here and now with the luminous rays of sun invading the mayor's bedroom, Emma took in every detail. She convinced herself that she was simply taking it all in because she wanted to, not because it hurt like hell to move. She was taking these few moments to appreciate the beauty of the room—this particular part of the room. That's all there was to it.

"Something the matter, dear?"

Instantly her stomach tightened. The raspy liquid voice filled her ears and Emma wished that her limbs would just cooperate. Flashes of their previous night swam through her mind. Something akin to fear and adrenaline mixed frustratingly with the stir of arousal that she felt creeping up her spine and through her womb. Damn.

Regina stood in the doorway of her bedroom watching the prostrate sheriff and smiled knowingly. The mayor didn't wait for Emma to sit up or even shift her position on the bed. Instead, she eased further into her room, closing and locking the door before standing over Emma. The blonde's impossibly green eyes met hers and Regina could see the apprehension, and yes even the submission from the . . . rigorous lesson she'd had to teach the younger woman last night and long into the early hours of the morning before the sun came up. She knelt beside the bed so that she was as close to eye-level with Emma as she could be.

"Look at me, Emma." Regina grabbed Emma's chin and forced her head to turn so that their eyes met. Emma winced at the movement and Regina's smile brightened.

The younger woman was lost in the black wells of Regina' eyes. Why did Regina have to be such a goddess? Why did she have to be so intoxicating? Even now, with every limb and muscle sore and in agony, Emma realized that her chest was heaving and her heart rate was elevated simply from looking into the woman's eyes. She knew, she knew that those dark chocolate eyes, the same ones that pinned her with their piercing stares all through the night, weren't just looking at her. Those eyes were searching her face and body language, knowing that the victim of last night's onslaught was remembering every little thing the mayor had done to her. Those eyes were searching the blonde's sea green orbs for recognition and compliance and the satisfied grin on Regina's face told Emma that the mayor had found exactly what she was looking for.

"I realize that the position of sheriff leaves you very little to do on the weekend. However, I cannot allow you to stay in my bed all day."

"W-why did you lock the door," Emma asked in a tiny voice, ignoring Regina's statement. The innocent and timid tone it carried pleased Regina greatly. It was the same tone Henry adopted after being fitfully reprimanded and wanting to ensure that his punishment was complete and that he was no longer in trouble. It was a tone that beseeched Regina for mercy and one that the conveyor hoped displayed contrition.

"Do relax, Miss Swan." The mayor licked her lips. "Henry will be home soon. I simply thought you would like to preserve some dignity. It seems our son has yet to master the art of knocking before entering my bedroom." She reached out to stroke the messy blonde hair cascading over her satin sheets. Her smile was now tender and adoring. Even she found it odd at times how easily she could switch emotions. "Now, take as much time as you need. I am going to start lunch."

The mayor's eyes shifted to Emma's mouth. Her thumb grazed the sheriff's bottom lip and Emma sucked the kiss-swollen lip between her teeth and whimpered. "I will make a big lunch for you and Henry. How does that sound?"

Emma nodded.

"Speak up, dear."

"Yeah that's-that's great. Thanks."

"Wonderful. I am not particularly hungry," Regina's voice dropped. "I ate my fill last night." Her voice slithered into Emma's brain and she gasped as the memories danced once more in her mind. "Now, we just need to put something in your mouth."

Regina removed her hand from Emma's lips and rose to her feet. Before either woman could utter another word, the sound of the front door swinging open and slamming against the wall of the foyer snapped the women to attention. They listened as Henry stomped up the stairs—seemingly bounding up to the second floor with the energy that only a preteen could possibly possess.

"Mooom! I'm home," he announced from the other side of the door. Without further preamble, he turned the handle and pushed it a bit harder than necessary when the door refused to yield to his manipulations.

Emma heaved a sigh of relief when the door didn't open. Never in her life had she been so grateful for Regina's foresight. The brunette stared down at Emma, no longer smiling. She seemed to be studying the sheriff as if she were trying to make a decision about something. "Okay, sweetheart," Regina called out to Henry while still looking at Emma. "I will be out in a moment and we can make lunch together."

"Okay. I want hoagies!"

"Henry, that's barbaric. We will have normal sandwiches."

"Fine, then I'll eat four normal sandwiches, which is basically . . . a hoagie."

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. This brand of impish logic surely came from Emma's genes. She sighed before she relented. "Fine, my little prince."

"Mooom . . .," he whined. "Can we have soda?"

"Water."

"Ugh, punch?"

"Water."

"Lemonade mix?"

"I have no idea how that garbage even made it into this house. Apple juice."

"Deal," he chirped from the other side before he walked away.

Regina's smile returned as she scanned the blonde's body yet again. "I'll leave you to it, Emma. It would seem that we are having 'hoagies' for lunch."

With that, Regina quietly exited the room, leaving Emma to will her body to finally listen to the signals she was sending and crawl out of bed.