A/N: For the Day 7 Trapped Together prompt. Bit of angst, bit of smut, lots of SQ. (Ready? Set. Go!)

Valjean

Queens don't murder. They execute.

She'd said it once. Casually. She'd flung the statement out just as quick and dry as she did any other of her witty quips when we got to bickering. We do that a lot. Bickering, that is. Maybe it's because our first interactions had set the tone for the rest of our relationship like a dash of diced hot pepper thrown in rice, or maybe it's because Regina was (and still is) a grade-A raging bitch and it gives her hives to be too nice. (And it's not like I help matters any, being me, but still.) It doesn't really matter though. We're friends, as much as I can be friends with a deposed homicidal Queen.

But Queens don't murder. They execute.

Such a little thing to get stuck on, but I've always been a one-track-mind kind of girl. Ever since I've arrived in Storybrooke, my life's been completely FUBAR. Fucked up beyond all reason. (All reason.) Some days, I feel like I'm going to wake up from a coma in a hospital somewhere, and having found my parents and my son and all of this fantastical fairytale bullshit will have just been the hopes and dreams of my weak mind made reality by a spectacular blow to the head. Because how could this be real? So I've spent a lot of time just… reacting. Especially in the beginning. And a lot of the things I said and did, especially regarding Regina… I regret them now. Not that I'd ever admit that out loud. (Because let's be real. I had a kid insisting that his adoptive mother was an Evil Queen. This being told to me, a person who's never had a lot of good experiences with adoptive parents in general. There are sick people in the world, and I still say I had every right to be concerned; but I was also a person desperate to be loved getting my first taste of that, and things got out of hand.)

Because heroes and villains don't exist. I've always said that. (Because don't all people who've been to prison say that?) But my parents were heroes, and Henry wanted me to be a hero, and people here were just so ready to excuse any and all mistakes that I made… I knew better. Know better. But sometimes, I think that the people who are the most susceptible to love are the people who are hardest to love in the first place. No one had ever loved me until Henry, and suddenly, I had more love than I knew what to do with and I wanted to do and be anything to keep it.

I think I understand Regina very well because of that, but at the same time, I think about all the blood on her hands, and I wonder how she could ever bring herself to kill someone. (Even if it wasn't murder, but execution.)

And maybe I've been watching too much Game of Thrones, but once Regina made that one little distinction to me during one of our magic lessons, I've been stuck on it. In the past –and even now, sometimes—I didn't really like to think about the Enchanted Forest. I mean, Ogres and Giants and witches and no cars and eating chimera and no electricity and an actual fucking monarchy? No thanks. But I think until that moment, I never quite grasped the magnitude of difference between here and there. That there was an actual moral and legal difference between murder and execution. Dead is dead here, but David's always spouting shit off about defending honor and dying with it and yeah, he's Prince Charming, but he's also just a small town deputy sheriff and it's really fucking ridiculous. Or it was, until I thought about it, and realized that it's not.

I've been told a lot of things about Regina. A lot of them weren't true, but some were. And what mother wouldn't freak out a little when they realize that their child has been in the hands of what essentially amounts to a serial killer for their entire lives? But Queens don't murder. They execute. And that's not even Regina's usual bullshit. It means something.

Because my parents –heroes—have killed: both in war, and in cold blood. And that's the kicker, isn't it? The difference between heroes and villains is that the villains take responsibility for their actions whilst the heroes do evil and call it good. A lot of the things Regina did were legal, seeing as she was the Queen, and a lot of what Mom and Dad did wasn't. All three of them have played law-breakers in their time, and law-enforcers too. Legality is just a label that drags morality through the mud, really. The difference between them is whether or not they admitted to it, and maybe Snow and David never admitted to enough (cough—baby snatching—cough), and maybe Regina admitted to too much (with all that 'villains don't get happy endings' bullshit), but it all kind of blurs together into one solid flood of dead bodies and suffering from my perspective. Maybe there's no excusing any of my family –Regina included—for what they've done. There's definitely no excusing me. But I love them anyways, you know? The world's full of bad people and worse people, and all we can try to do is be better for the people we love and for ourselves.

Not that I've shared these epiphanies with anyone aloud, mind you. There are some things it's better to keep quiet about, and I've always tried to express myself through actions rather than words anyways. (Because words can lie, but actions can't.)

Regina's very fond of words though. She's always saying something to me, even when what she says is eons away from what she actually means. Normally, that might annoy me, but Regina has a good voice. I'd pretty much listen to her read a phonebook, so I can easily forgive her for excessive nagging even if I could think of at least six better things for her to be doing with her mouth at any given time.

God, I'm such a pervert.

"Miss Swan, are you even paying attention to me?" Regina snaps, breaking me out of my rapidly heating thoughts.

Startled, I jerk to attention and shoot her a winning smile. "Oh yeah. Tons," I assure her through a hasty swig of soda.

If looks could kill (or execute, given that Regina was a Queen), the glare she shot at me just then should have made my head explode. (Though let's be real. Regina probably could make my head explode with her mind. So she must like me at least a little since I'm still alive, right? Right.) "How could you do this?" she snapped out, before legitimately stomping her foot like a petulant toddler.

(Though to be fair, it was kind of my fault.)

Well, not kind of. Definitely. It was definitely my fault.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, rolling my eyes. And I was. Really. But Regina was totally overreacting to the whole situation. "Come on, Regina. We'll be fine," I wheedled. "Snow's like, helicopter-mom, so she'll notice we're gone in an hour, tops."

"She'll notice you're gone maybe," the brunette muttered blackly, crossing her arms and glaring some more, "but it's not like my basement is one of your more frequent haunts."

"Please. You and I both know that Snow's weirdly mothering to you too, though I'd rather not talk about what a fucked-up role-reversal that is in the grand scheme of things," I shot back, rolling my eyes. "Henry knows where we do lessons. We'll be fine."

Clearly frustrated, Regina turned on her heel and seated herself on the couch with a huff. After we made up after the defeat of the Dairy Queen, Regina had extended the offer to continue our magic lessons. I accepted in a heartbeat. (Because frankly, losing control of myself like I had scared me shitless, and Regina always did know how to make things better.) Ironically, we're rather inseparable now, between the magic lessons, the quest to find the Author, and Henry increasingly expressing that he'd enjoy spending more time with just the two of us together. We do magic lessons three times per week, but since Regina's vault is cold and creepy as hell, we usually do them in her basement, which is basically an empty space. I mean, there's a couch and a couple bookshelves, but not much else. Regina only started keeping hocus-pocus stuff in there when she resumed giving me lessons.

And now we were stuck down here.

"This is your fault, Swan," Regina muttered bitterly.

Damn, the woman needed to learn to let things go. "I know," I ceded with my eye-roll clearly audible in my tone.

"I told you not to touch anything," the woman insisted. "And what did you do?"

I sighed, trying to resign myself to the doghouse. "I touched something…"

"You activated a containment field meant for ogres, Emma. Ogres!" Regina exclaimed, gesticulating wildly to the faint crackle of magic dancing along the walls of the basement. She was still furious and only gaining momentum. "It can only be deactivated from the outside, and it's Thursday. Your idiot parents have date night on Thursdays! Trust me, they'll be far to busy 'finding each other' for hours and hours to be thinking about you tonight!"

My eyes widened as my mind supplied an unwanted visual. "Oh, Regina, gross!" I wailed, clapping my hands over my ears in a belated gesture of protest. (It was bad enough that I walked in on them that one time. I didn't need additional mental scarring.)

"Oh, cease your pathetic whining. It's highly unattractive," Regina snapped out. "This is serious, Emma. We're trapped down here for the foreseeable future!"

I bristled, officially one hundred percent done with the lecture. "God, you think I don't know that Regina?" I cried. "And you don't think anything I do is attractive, so excuse me while I don't care."

Furious, Regina directed another one of her killer glares my way, but surprisingly did not say another word. Instead, she released a frustrated huff of breath and pulled out her phone, clicking away at whatever distraction she'd found in the screen. (My money was on Solitaire. She was an addict, and there was little else for her to without reception –a side effect of such powerful magical shielding—anyways.) For a few moments I simply watched her warily before deciding that the volatile woman was giving me the silent treatment: something that I would happily reciprocate. I walked over to the bag I'd left by the door in silence, removed my battered paperback copy of Les Miserables, and returned to seat myself on the couch as far from Regina's stiff form as possible. I felt a lot of things for Regina, and a lot of them were positive; but damn, was she infuriating.

We sat like that for nearly twenty minutes. I was prepared to go longer, but Regina was actually terrible at the silent treatment.

(Imagine that.)

"What are you reading?" she finally asked, her voice softer than it had been all evening. I wanted to be petty and ignore her, but I was employing a sort of positive reinforcement system with our interactions in hopes of training Regina to socialize more like a human being and less like a Queen, so I forced myself to reward the woman with a polite response.

"Les Miserables," I said shortly.

(So… maybe less polite than originally intended. But whatever.)

Regina arched a single impeccable eyebrow. "I'd expected something more along the lines of 'See Spot Run'."

It would be a very bad idea to punch Regina, I attempted to convince myself through gritted teeth. She punched back. And would possibly execute me. (It was a hard sell.) "Ha-ha. You're fucking hilarious," I muttered, returning my attention deliberately to the thumb-worn pages. "Just because I never grew up learning the laws of magic, doesn't mean I'm stupid, contrary to popular belief."

To her credit, the brunette seemed at least a little sheepish. "I don't think you're stupid," she sighed. I supposed that this was as close to an apology I'd ever get from her in the mood Regina was currently in, and to be honest, it was almost endearing to watch her visibly make an effort to be nice (but still sound just sharp enough to maintain whatever sort of antisocial power trip that her bitchiness gave her). It definitely softened me enough for my own offer of an olive branch though.

"It's my favorite book," I relented, returning my focus to Regina as I closed the thick novel in my hands and settled it gently on my lap.

At this tidbit of information, Regina appeared mildly interested. "Why?" came her immediate query. Now normally, we talked, Regina and I. But we rarely… discussed. There never seemed to be time for it, really. (Though if accidentally trapping yourself in an ogre-proof bubble was in any way a positive thing, I supposed it did provide just that. Time.)

And it was a little crazy for me to actually be considering opening up to Regina like I was, but Regina always did make me feel a little crazy. "When Neal sent me to prison, I was really messed up," I finally answered after a long silence. Because, what the hell? Regina might piss me off –and she might have been a little bit of a psychopath in the past—but she did understand me. I liked that about her. "There was this girl –Tatyana—who took care of me even after I learned I was pregnant with Henry. She was sweet. A good rebound, I guess," I confessed. "She gave me this copy. I must have read it twelve times at least before I got out, and… it really spoke to me. If Henry was born a girl, I would have named him Cosette, because I identified really strongly with Fantine, you know? Just the little girl fooled by an older man who left her as soon as things got rough, with no future but earning her keep on her back." I laughed bitterly, voice wavering slightly with remembered emotion. Because sure, I loved Neal. And he'd had a reason (just not a very good one) for doing what he did, but that didn't mean it still didn't hurt, and it didn't mean that I still didn't suffer for it. I continued in a whisper,"—and Cosette had a happy ending. I wanted that for my baby."

Regina liked to talk. But just now, she looked like she didn't quite know what to say. She just gazed at me with those big brown eyes of hers full of such sadness and understanding (but never pity) that it made me feel all gooey inside. And that was okay. "Guess that makes you my Jean Valjean, huh Gina?" I teased.

This seemed to snap the woman out of whatever reverie she'd been in, and she wrinkled her nose in what I interpreted as a mix of curiosity and distaste. "Need I remind you that you are the former prisoner between the two of us, Miss Swan?" she replied.

"Oh like you haven't been imprisoned before, Your Majesty," I snorted. "Not the point. You're the rich single parent who adopted my kid and initiated a redemption arc, aren't you?"

"Yes," Regina reluctantly admitted, a sort of surprise briefly glimmering over her features. "I suppose I am."

I grinned at her. "See? Applicable comparison. It's a good book."

Slowly, Regina smiled back. Now, there was really nothing in the world as beautiful as one of Regina's smiles, I was entirely convinced. It was truly a pity that her smiles were so rare. It was what made Regina's story so tragic. There was a beautiful person wrapped up in this shell of suffering and misery and directionless anger, and it was so hard to see her sometimes. I really did treasure those moments when I could see her for her, and not the woman Regina liked to show the world. "I suppose you're right," she told me before letting her smile fall. "I'm… sorry."

"Don't be," I answered lightly. "I was an idiot."

I knew she wasn't apologizing for snapping at me, but I didn't want her to apologize for anything else. I'd spent a lot of time being angry at Regina for her part in my unfortunate upbringing, but I'd forgiven her for that the moment she ripped Henry's heart out of Pan's chest in Neverland and taught me the difference between remorse and regret. It would do no good for apologies to be uttered now. I was me because of my past, and I wouldn't change that, especially since my life was responsible for the start of Henry's, and Henry was… well, Henry was everything.

Regina gave me a searching look, her chocolate eyes flickering rapidly across my face. I met her gaze evenly. We'd always communicated very effectively nonverbally, and I knew she'd see my forgiveness in the way I was looking at her. Eventually, she gave me a minute nod of understanding before changing the subject. "So this Tatyana—she was your first girlfriend?" she asked with a coy smile.

I snorted in response, both glad for the new line of conversation and surprised at this new turn. Though I supposed I shouldn't have been, considering the fact that I'd never actually discussed my dating history with the woman. "Hardly," I scoffed. "I had two girlfriends before Neal, and even if I never really dated seriously after him, I've continued to see both genders."

"And here I was thinking you were straight," she murmured, clearly amused by my answer.

"I don't really advertise it, so I'm not surprised you did," I offered, settling back more comfortably in the couch cushions. "I'm not hiding it, but my sexuality isn't something I wear on my sleeve, you know? Because guys, girls, we're all just people, and I don't see it as a big deal that I'm attracted to both, even if some people do."

Regina dipped her head gracefully in acknowledgement. "I can respect that."

I lifted an eyebrow at the ambiguous response. "Thanks," I drawled.

"No need to project your sarcasm quite so strongly, dear. I'm right here," Regina shot back, rolling her eyes.

"I'll try to tone it down," I laughed. "Who was your first girlfriend then?"

Regina appeared mildly surprised by the question, but I was very, very certain that she had at least some affinity for women herself, despite men dominating what little I knew of her sexual history. "Queens have nothing so juvenile as girlfriends, Miss Swan," she huffed.

"Female lover then, Your Majesty," I corrected with a derisive little snort.

Almost impossibly, Regina appeared flustered, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly in a way I had never before witnessed from a woman who had previously maintained the image of the ultimate hardass. "I have never been with a woman before," she eventually admitted.

"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "Never?"

"Never," she confirmed with a sad smile. "There was one woman whom I considered taking to my bed during my time as Queen, but it never quite… worked out."

I nodded slowly, absorbing the new information. "That's a shame," I decided. "Being with a woman is different than being with a man. Maybe not better or worse, but different. Enjoyable."

"Is that an offer, Miss Swan?" Regina smirked, peeking out at me beneath her lashes.

My first instinct was to laugh away my nerves, but I held myself back and instead tilted my head slightly, deliberately giving Regina's body a blatant once over as I allowed myself to truly consider the idea of having sex with her for the first time since the first curse broke. There were many factors to the hypothetical situation that were immediately obvious to me. Firstly, that Regina was probably the most physically attractive woman I'd ever met in my life. Secondly, that the daughter of Snow White having sex with the Evil Queen had 'disaster' written all over it. Still, there was no escaping the fact that I genuinely cared for this woman as a human being, a friend, the mother of my son, and even just a bit more. (Which just made all the possible ways this could go spectacularly wrong just that much worse.) Because this was a woman who lived in shades of grey, and I wasn't sure if either one of us were truly emotionally mature (or stable) enough to handle this. Frankly, I felt a bit like I was holding a live grenade in my hands, just waiting for it to go off and paint the wall behind me with gooey bits of Emma.

"Is it weird that I trust you enough to actually say yes?" I blurted suddenly. And really, that was the million dollar question. I desired Regina. Every part of her, inside and out. But more than that, I trusted her enough that I would give myself to her just as fully as I wanted her to give herself to me –something I hadn't come anywhere close to doing (or even considering) since Neal. We were always like that though. From the moment that the first curse was broken, I was always protecting Regina; and she looked after me too in her own passive-aggressive little ways. (Sort of. Eventually.) Sure, she was something between a ruler, a murderer, and an executioner, but Regina had always been so… real to me, even when nothing else in my fucked-up world was. I understood her, and I (somewhat inexplicably) trusted her too. We were friends, in our own way, and I trusted her with Henry and I trusted her with me.

"Probably," Regina breathed, face carefully neutral but eyes suspiciously bright. "Though for what it's worth, I trust you too." She paused, before smiling slightly mischievously. "Though perhaps not with anything magical."

"That's probably a good idea," I ceded, looking down at the book still lying innocently in my lap. Despite her original skepticism of the comparison, Regina was my Jean Valjean. She might have played a part in taking away the life I could have had, but Regina had gone on to not only save me, but my child, time and time again. She was more than just a savior to me though. Regina gave me strength and kept me sane, even when she hated me, and even when she refused to see me. Our relationship was something indefinable, and I honestly treasured it more than most things in my life. I just… didn't know how to express that to her, or even whether or not I wanted to. "I'm sorry too."

"For what?" she asked, appearing honestly confused.

I shrugged slightly, tossing my book onto the coffee table. It landed with a heavy smack that I ignored in favor of scooting up closer to my companion so that I could look her dead in the eye, our legs now just shy of touching. "For everything," I told her quite seriously. Even I wasn't quite sure what I was apologizing for. Our entire past, maybe. Or even just myself.

"Don't apologize," Regina instructed, shaking her head. "You've done enough of that already."

And then she kissed me. Without pause or hesitation, Regina Mills leaned forward and kissed me. (And man, did she know how to kiss.) It wasn't anything like how I had imagined it though. She was softer than I'd thought she'd be –her lips plush and her skin smooth and delicate—and gentler too. There was passion there, but she wasn't kissing me like she was hungry, or even just curious. Regina was kissing me firmly. And comfortably. As if this was something inevitable between us that she was completely at ease with doing.

Maybe it was. It still made my heart swell with an unfamiliar tenderness though, and I returned the gesture with that feeling, cradling her cheeks in my hands as if she were the most precious thing in my world. (Which, aside from Henry, she probably was, if I were being honest with myself.)

"Is it weird if I want to take you up on that offer?" Regina gasped when we finally pulled apart a few inches.

It took me a moment to register that she'd even spoken. I was surrounded by all things Regina. The feel of her pressed against me (When did that happen?) and the smell of her perfume filled my head until there was room for little else. "Probably," I replied, chuckling a little even as I began pressing tender kisses to her cheek and down the elegant column of her neck, making her tremble in my arms slightly. "But I trust you, and you trust me, and since this isn't magic, I think we're good."

Regina laughed softly and wove a gentle hand into my hair, encouraging me to continue my ministrations. "I suppose we are at that, Miss Swan," she agreed. "So since you've trapped us in here for the next several hours at least, why don't you show me how 'enjoyable' being with a woman really is, hm?"

I sniggered into her neck. "With pleasure, Your Majesty," I promised.

And maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe Robin really was Regina's soulmate and Hook really was my destined True Love or whatever. Maybe we would just end up hurting us and everyone by doing this, but I really, really didn't care right now. Because this felt safe. And it felt right. Somehow, I don't think I could ever (even for a moment) regret being with Regina like this.

Confidently, I unbuttoned the top two buttons of Regina's shirt and ran my lips tenderly over her clavicle as she sighed contentedly and tilted her head back to allow me better access. Normally, I was more aggressive in bed; but here, I was flooded with a desire to take my time and enjoy what Regina was offering to me. I had know way of knowing if such a moment would ever present itself again, and I wanted to remember the warmth in my heart that I was feeling now in case it was the last time I would feel it. Feel her.

Curious hands began to wander over my body then, smoothing over my waist and hips and flirting with the beginning curves of my breasts and ass. I whimpered into Regina's mouth and reflexively squeezed her hips. Sex had always been little more than a release for me, but this closeness we were initiating with our languid touches was something different. (And I rather liked it.)

An insistent tugging upon the hem of my tank top caught my attention and I sat up and away from Regina, pulling the shirt over my head in one smooth motion and positioning myself so that I was straddling her lap. Her dark eyes glimmered with lust as she shamelessly examined the newly exposed skin, only interrupted when I leaned down and captured her lipstick-smudged mouth with mine once more. I worked my hands beneath her own shirt and splayed my fingertips over her warm (and surprisingly toned) belly. Carefully, she reached up and imitated the motion before boldly venturing even farther and cupping my bra-covered breasts in her hands, grinning as I shuddered with pleasure and pressed my chest more firmly into her touch.

"Red with polka-dots, Miss Swan? Very nice," Regina teased between kisses, squeezing lightly and pinching my nipples to attention.

I pouted and nipped sharply at the woman's pulse point in retaliation. "It's cute!" I protested, defending my undergarments faithfully. It was a matching set –red with (admittedly juvenile, but still totally awesome) little white polka dots—that always made me feel just that more cheerful when I wore them.

Regina's breathing stuttered at the briefly rough treatment. "It is," she forced out, her eyes fluttering shut as I celebrated my victory by exploring the sensitive skin just behind her ear with curious lips. Pleased with myself for garnering a positive reaction, I quickly set to work on her remaining buttons and stripped Regina of her shirt.

"Black lace, Miss Mills? Very classy," I mocked her. (But it was classy. And very, very hot. Because Regina Mills had some of the most beautiful breasts that I'd ever seen –but that wasn't the point.) I didn't want to hear the undoubtedly excellent comeback that I could see dancing on the tip of her tongue though, so quickly moved to close my mouth over the material of her bra, applying light pressure to her nipple and causing the woman to moan out and squirm beneath me.

"Emma," she gasped, arching her back into the contact.

"Hmm, yes?" I answered, teasing my fingers along the waistband of her dress pants as I moved to the other breast, repeating my previous attentions there.

Regina didn't answer and instead pulled my head up her body to kiss me again, with an urgency that hadn't been there before. I kissed her back eagerly, gratefully winding my arms around her waist and holding her so closely that I could feel her heart tattooing a frantic rhythm against her chest. Quickly, I unhooked her bra and tossed it aside, followed by my own and exhaled contentedly at the bare press of skin against skin. Once more, I began a descent of kisses down Regina's body and lavished attention on her breasts while she began to yank my jeans off my body. Eventually, I was forced to stand and pull them the rest of the way off with a shimmy along with my boots while Regina watched, half propped up and topless with mussed hair and makeup.

I meant more than I'd expected it would to see her like this.

Quite gallantly in my opinion, I moved to help Regina to her feet and unbuttoned her slacks. Gracefully, she tugged them down over the generous curve of her ass and let them puddle at her feet even as she stepped out of her heels. My mouth went dry at the sight, and I didn't even attempt to stop my hands from returning to Regina's body. (Because even the very sight of her made me want to get down on my knees and thank the gods for creating Regina fucking Mills.) Tenderly, I pushed her back down onto the couch so that her head rested on its arm and there was room for me to crawl up her body from between her legs. Peppering the smooth expanse of her thighs with kisses as I went, I pulled her underwear away from her body, leaving her completely bare. I was glad to see that she was extremely well groomed, as that would make what I was about to do far more pleasant. (Though I'd hardly expected anything less from the former Queen.) Slowly, I shifted myself so that my head was level with the place she needed me the most and began pressing open-mouthed kisses to her inner thighs as I took care to arrange Regina's body into a position that would be comfortable for her, draping her legs over my shoulders and running soothing hands up and down her thighs.

"Emma," she said again, though this time with considerably more apprehension. Startled and concerned, I ceased all movement and glanced up at her with questioning eyes. Much to my surprise, Regina appeared… uncertain. Like she wasn't sure what to expect. Briefly, I wondered if anyone else she'd been with had bothered to be with her like this.

"Do you trust me, Gina?" I asked her, leaning my cheek against her leg as I gazed at her earnestly.

She bit her lip in an uncharacteristic display of nerves. "Yes," she breathed.

I smiled up at her, happiness blooming within me at the affirmation of our tentative bond of friendship. "Then just relax," I coaxed. "You'll like this. I promise."

"Okay," she agreed softly.

Regina was nervous though. I could tell. So instead of taking more time to tease, I reached up and grabbed her hand, intertwining our fingers intimately before I leaned forwards and swiped my tongue up glistening folds. Instantly, Regina's hips shot up off the couch and I had to press down on her tummy with my free hand to keep her from breaking my nose in her eagerness. (And wouldn't that just be painfully ironic for us if that happened?)

"Emma!" This time, she did not sound concerned. This time, my name was infused with a sense of pleasant surprise and a request for more of the same.

Luckily for Regina, I had no intention of stopping and instead set to work with an eager mouth, kissing and licking and swirling while Regina squeezed my hand tightly and moaned out a surprisingly loud litany of encouragement. After a while, I sucked her clit into my mouth and removed my hand from hers only to enter her with two fingers. She shuddered around me and I hummed with satisfaction at the sensation of finally being inside her for the first time. "Gods, Emma!" she cried out, trembling fiercely and bucking helplessly into my mouth as she wound shaking hands into my hair and gripped tightly.

It was… really hot.

Obligingly, I began to thrust into her slowly and deeply, wiggling my fingers against her front wall every time I drew back until I discovered a rough patch against my fingertips that made her gasp and mewl. Grinning, I made a point to hit that spot with each thrust after that until Regina was panting above me and her body began to tense and coil in preparation for her coming release.

"That's it, Gina. Come for me," I cooed, pulling my face away to speak before immediately returning and renewing my attentions to her clit, flicking against it with my tongue. Almost immediately Regina obeyed the command, stiffening for a long moment and clamping down on my fingers before relaxing slightly to ride out the aftershocks. This was my cue to resume moving as well, inserting a third finger and thrusting hard and fast against her g-spot until Regina was calling out my name again and falling into a second orgasm as I delivered a sharp nip to her swollen clit. At this point, Regina appeared to have lost the ability to form anything resembling words and was instead reduced to emitting little gasping whimpers as she lay prone on the couch, chest heaving. Conscious to her likely sensitivity after coming twice, I eased her down with gentle licks and caresses until her breathing had evened out slightly. I then moved up her body just enough so that I could lay with my head resting on her stomach and my body cradled between her thighs, enjoying the quiet moment. I myself was unbelievably turned on, but for the moment, I was more than happy to drape myself across Regina's torso and enjoy being close to her. (Especially since she'd mustered enough coordination to lift a hand and run it affectionately through my hair. I didn't normally like for other people to touch me, but when Regina did it, it just felt so good.)

"You were right. I did like that," Regina said quietly, breaking the silence. She almost sounded shocked, despite the sexy hoarseness of her voice.

I chuckled into the warm skin of her belly. "Just because I like you, I won't request that you put that in writing," I teased, nuzzling her a bit.

"And just because you performed well, I'll consider forgiving you for trapping us down here until someone realizes we're missing and decides to let us out," she shot back, raking her fingernails down my bare back in punishment.

I shivered pleasurably at the sensation, and could almost feel the woman's smirk. "Are you trying to murder me?" I whined, lifting my head so that I could meet her eyes for the first time since we'd finished.

The level of tenderness I saw there surprised me. Regina was looking at me with the same amount of softness that she looked at Henry with, and I nearly melted into a puddle on the spot. (God, this was so right. Why had we never done this before?) "Of course not, Emma," she cooed. Then, Regina smirked wickedly. "Queens don't murder. They execute."

And even as I laughed brightly at the comment and Regina pulled me in for another kiss… well, that was the moment I realized that I was in love with Regina Mills.