This is a celebratory drabble made for the amazing people of FF, whom I love dearly, but only published on tumblr... until now. oops.

Disclaimer: No, I do not own OUAT. Nor the title, it is slightly edited lyrics of a BSB song.

Strong T. (I think. That might just be the paranoia though.)

'You know I'm only using you for information.'

He took the whimper that escaped her lips as affirmation that she did indeed hear and understand his statement.

(It could easily have been the result of the attention he was currently lavishing upon her neck, collarbone, slowly making his way south, but the balance of probabilities leaned towards the former option.)

'If you're screwing me for information about my mother, you're taking the wrong approach.' The sentence was disjointed, interrupted by the moans she could not hold back; her voice was deep and rough, it was almost primal in it's sound and Robin took pleasure in knowing that it was him that was able to do that to her. (He would also question why it would be the cause of such pride, but that would come much, much later.)

'No, I'm sleeping with you because you are a bold and audacious woman, a sexy, seductive, evil vixen-' And - bloody hell - definitely skilled with her hands, as she seemed so intent upon proving at that moment. 'But I am using you and I don't want you to end up hurt when we catch you and convict you, because we will.'

'And how, pray tell, are you using me for anything other than my body?' Honestly, in the lusty haze she had descended into the moment he touched her, she didn't care what he did just as long as his mouth kept doing - oh! - that.

'I would tell you, but I don't to alert you to your weaknesses in your system. Just watch yourself, okay?'

'You say that every time we meet up Agent Locksley, it's almost convinced me you're starting to care. And we can't have that now can we?' He could hear the smirk in her voice, malice dripping off the words. He scoffed at her statement, intent to show her who relied upon who, intent on pushing away that thought immediately. Because she was right. He was starting to get attached to their little arrangement, he was starting to get attached to her, and given such a thing could result in both of them getting a bullet in the head, it was not something he wanted to reflect upon, especially when she was going - oh goodness - that. But it wouldn't leave him, the unsettling feeling that it would all go downhill, both the mission and his emotions, wouldn't leave and it was putting a damper upon their activities. So he pinned her down, his large calloused hand holding down her dainty wrists easily, thighs stopping any movement of her legs, ignoring the glare she directed towards him when he did so, pushing aside the pleasure he feels when she deliberately jerks her hips upward to him.

'I have a code of honour, Regina.' She scoffed at that, he was a highly paid assassin, one of MI6's finest, even if his weapon of choice was archaic to say the least (not that she had the right to judge, especially given that her mother practically ran the black market and well, the apple never did fall far from the tree.) 'And I don't want to hurt you anymore than I have to.'

(He would never forget the first time he told her that he was using her, that she was merely a means to an end. She laughed in his face at that, "who knew a thief would have honour, even one as rubbish as you." Then she proved why she had garnered a reputation as an evil, evil, witch, because her mouth- absolutely sinful.)

'What makes you think you could?'

(What he would never understand, what he could never understand is that she was falling in very much the same way, not that either would admit to such a reckless thing. Because a lesser person would be dead at the mere thought of pinning her down the way he so casually did just then.)

'Just be a dear and finish what you've started.' If casual was all they could afford, that would be all that she asked for. Heck, that was all that she wanted.

He couldn't help the smirk that slowly spread across his face.

That, he could do.

(And it had nothing to do with the way she ground out his name from her clenched teeth over and over. And over.)

They were never one for cuddling afterwards, so he just remained on the bed, watching her as she went across the room, picking up her clothing from all four corners of it (she wouldn't be able to find everything though, he ensured that much.)

'So, how's your infiltration coming along?' She wasn't a fool, nor did he warn her in vain. They were on opposite sides in this war and she would take every opportunity she could to gain intel (not every opportunity though, not if it meant hurting him.)

'I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. And I do so enjoy you alive.' She could hear the laughter in his voice, and it made her feel lighter, as if the lives of thousands of people weren't upon her head.

'You know, this would never have happened if you just successfully broke in the first time.' She would always revel in the memory that he had broken into their base only to be caught by a 5 ft woman in ridiculously high heels. (The memory wouldn't compare to the first time she had broken into his base, albiet for more carnal reasons.)

'Oh, the mission would have definitely continued afterwards. We may have hit a small stumbling block, but the mission is so much larger than you imagine.' That was as specific as he could go, after all, knowledge that the NSA and all their "we will find them" rubbish was involved would be detrimental to the mission, nor could she know that the ASIS was also playing a vital role (though, the one known as The Librarian was taken into enemy hands in the fight. He would worry about what secrets were revealed if she hadn't saved his life before. Right now, he was more compromised than she could ever be). 'And it's not my fault that you are magic when you work your technology. If you ever decide to get out of organised crime, I'm sure I could work something out for you. I don't want you brought down in the end.' It was the first time he had suggested that he wanted her out of the organisation and she couldn't help but pause at the last button, eyes flickering towards him for no longer than a second before turning on her heel and walking towards the door.

'Until next time?' She was going for confident and seductive but that affect was not achieved, the emotions escaping the bottle she had locked them in (and since when did this become emotional and not just mindless sex). She cursed the small quiver that could be heard in her voice, undoing all the work she had spent for the past months. Hardening her heart and voice, she walked out with parting words aimed to crush. 'Forget it, I'll be breaking in some of the new recruits.' If only Graham was alive, that heartless bastard, I wouldn't need this thief. (She decided to ignore the word "need" that had somehow slipped in.)

She left him there, stunned. Motionless. The unavoidable sense of doom encompassing him, weighing him down, leaving the smallest part of his heart light with something.

'Yeah, next time.' He was mumbling to himself, hating the convoluted mess he found himself entangled in, hating the possessive nature that swept over him at the thought of anyone's hands on her, anyone other than him. But above all else, he hated the realisation that the ending he had been so desperate to avoid was the only inevitable conclusion in their story.

They were both completely and utterly screwed.

(And by screwed, he meant "going to die.")