Yes. It had been her idea.
She herself had told Sydney to do it.
And he always did what he was told. At least, if it was her giving the orders.
It was just an unfortunate series of events. Nothing more. Right?
It just happened.
But shouldn't she have noticed that something was off, right as the Sheriff was bursting through her door? No that is ridiculous... How could she have known? The Sheriff had always been rude and without sense for decency, without style and without manners. That simply was Emma Swan. Nobody could blame her for expecting no less.
But what had happened?
It had started with a box.
All had started with the fucking blue tiny box and its poisoned fruit inside.
And she? The Mayor of the town? Had failed to notice her own scheme.
A simple box right in front of her at the edge of her desk.
"What is that?" The Mayor asks, pointing with her finger at the offending object, but refrains from touching it.
"A piece offering?!"
A reluctant sigh, then fingers opening a paper box. A look inside. Her favorite. Apple pie.
Still, "I am not hungry."
"Come on. I just got it." A reluctant smile, two hands waving defensively in the air. "I did not touch it! Even ate one myself!"
"What do you want?"
"Jesus, Regina, nothing. It is just a piece of cake!"
Another sigh. Ten seconds where nothing happens, then a single bite.
"It is delicious, Ms. Swan. Thank you. But if you will excuse me now, I have to-"
"We need to talk. Or more I talk, you - just listen." A frown. "We need to stop bitching around. I know why you're treating me like crap."
"Excuse me?"
"I said listen. No talking."
"Miss Swan, I think you are way out of-"
The Sheriff leans over her desk, before Regina can even blink. A finger presses against red painted lips. "Pshh."
A tingling sensation where skin presses against skin. The demanding urge to lean into the faint touch. Regina stands quickly, breaking the contact. Her head spins, she grabs the edge of her desk.
It is not quite a minute before she regains her senses, but when she looks up again, green eyes are sparkling back at her. The Sheriff has her in a tight embrace.
When did that happen?
"Are you okay? You swayed there quite a bit..."
The words seem to be miles away, Regina's head is still spinning but in an addictive kind of way. Skin arches to be touched and the lips that are right in kissing distance are taunting her to be silenced. The sudden urge to feel, taste and touch the warm skin is slowly overwhelming her.
Deep inside, Regina knows something is wrong. Very wrong. She knows something is not the way it should be. She knows she feels things she should not - or rather shouldn't show that she does. But for the first time in years Regina just does not care about the consequences and just wants to feel something.
Her eyes flutter close as soon as their lips make contact, Emma's gasp of surprise changes halfway to a quiet moan of pleasure with a flick of her tongue. For a moment Regina expects resistance and waits for the Sheriff to step back. For the fraction of a second she expects herself to do the same. But nothing of it happens.
The Sheriff's hands are on her thighs, pushing the soft material of her pencil shirt up until it bunches at her waist. The meeting of lips gets urgent and soft flesh bruises under the intensity of their mutual need. Her fingers rip at the Sheriff's clothes without thought, in the distance of her haze she hears the faint sound of tearing fabric but neither she nor Emma herself seem to care.
She hisses through her teeth, as the Sheriff traces the shell of her ear with her tongue, while her fingers travel down, grazing over the thin material of expensive black lace. Fingers brush teasingly all the way over the length of her sex, the thin material already slick and utterly soaked. The hand slides beneath the barrier and the Mayor tries to force the sounds of pleasure back into her throat, but can't help it anymore, when the Sheriff pinches her clit with two fingers, massaging the throbbing nub with delicious pressure. And to her horror, Regina hears herself panting, "Please." against the Sheriff's cheek. Only then, Emma kisses her again, nipping her lip as two slender fingers slip inside her. Stars blossom behind closed eyelids, exploding like fireworks with each thrust of the Sheriff's hand.
It is hard, it's rough and not even a little gentle. It is exactly what Regina needs.
At almost midnight, Regina wakes with a start on the couch in her office. Her head pounds like a sledgehammer, she sits up slowly. What happened?
Henry! Oh god, Henry! She forgot Henry. But then, Henry is at a friends house. For the first time in a long time and Regina lets herself sink back against the soft cushions with a sigh.
What the hell happened? Why is she still in the office? She will stand up and leave any minute now, but there is this nagging feeling - just out of reach, taunting her with the knowledge that there is something she does not remember. She hates it almost as much as Snow White. Almost.
Her mobile phone on the side table goes off - skidding over the glass with the vibration, but she ignores it. Who could it possibly be at this hour? She isn't in the mood for either Gold's demands or Sydney's lovesick whining. No, not now.
The phone beeps again, just once.
She rolls her eyes, but picks it up anyway. A text. From Sydney - of course.
But only a short glimpse at the words seal her fate in the time frame of a long, painful heartbeat.
It is exactly this moment, when everything comes rushing back to her. Regina swallows hard. Jesus fucking Christ.
'It's done. It's in the cake.'