The island is never quiet. At first it's the soft whimpers, trickling into the savior's ears like raindrops. The muffled cries of her son's kidnappers hanging in the air, blending in with the crickets, with the birds, with the crash of waves against the sandy shore.

Then, it's the thoughts inside her own head. Reminders of all the people she's loved and lost. Foster parents loved and lost. Lily loved and lost. Neal loved and lost and lost again. Graham, his kiss still burning her lips, his shoelaces wrapped tight around her wrist, leaving a permanent indentation in her flesh. Will her son join the list? Will his small features fade into the blurry depths of memory, too painful for her to visit? She's already forgetting the shape of his eyes, the hazel color. She's already forgetting the way his hair feels when her fingers run through it. The way he smells when he hurtles his body against her own and squeezes tight.

Now, it's the rainstorm.

Emma feels like she's drowning in the liquid rage which ravages the island. Her silhouette is frequently highlighted by a flash of blue lightning. She stands guard at the entrance to a cave her family and Hook have sought refuge in. The pirate's gift is locked in her grip. She tries to imagine Neal ever having wielded this sword, imagine his phantom fingers settled beneath her own.

Movement behind her. Emma doesn't have to turn around to know who it is. Her energy seems to spike in odd ways, and a familiar heat spreads from her forearm when her son's mother rests her hand there.

"My turn," Regina strokes the fine hairs that stand to attention on the savior's arms, invisible to the naked eye.

"I'm good for another hour or so."

"You should sleep, you've been at it long enough."

"It's fine." The cavern walls are illuminated with another crack of lightning. The savior's eyes glow blue. Regina reaches up to stroke her cheek, more heat spreading from her fingertips, flowing into Emma. "Stay up with me?"

Magic crackles inside the sorceress' cells. A quiet thunderstorm brews within her blood, churning lightning and worry and fierce devotion for the one she loves. Henry is alive, and Henry will be delivered back to her. She knows this with a certainty, because the alternative is unthinkable, unlivable.

"I'll stay up with you," Regina's warm breath coasts the prominent line of her lover's jaw. It beckons Emma to face her a little more fully. An electric blue gaze flooding her dark vision.

Then, they… they find themselves pressing into the jagged edges of their makeshift home. The sound of steel clanging against rock. Emma's free hands slip beneath a velvet blouse, fingers relaxed against the ridges of her lover's spine. Regina shivers at the touch. Bits and pieces of the scattered science she's learned through the curse skirts the edges of her mind; must be the friction, something about electrons moving faster, jumping from her skin to Emma's, that's all this buzzing is, the anticipation building inside her body.

And, desperation. That's what this is.

And hatred, some lingering madness… primal lust ruling what instincts she possesses derived from early man.

A flash of lightning. A groan of thunder. Goosebumps prickle the surface of the savior's arms. Beneath her lashes, Regina's staring up at her with the oddest expression she cannot decipher. The thought of asking and waiting for an answer feels exhausting. Emma just pulls her in closer. One knee sliding in between the queen's thighs, ocean spray flying through the island and slamming against the magical barricade shimmering inside the entrance of their cavern.

Fingers in her hair. Golden curls wound around olive skinned knuckles. When Emma closes her eyes, there's just another woman's unsteady breathing and the clap of thunder.

"Em - mah," The name is like a trigger, a gunshot ricocheting the labyrinth of the savior's cranium.

They meet in a blind kiss. Regina melts beneath the pressure of her lover's lips. Between flashes of lightning, knees trembling, she wraps her arms around stiff shoulders and feels them loosen with a shared sigh. There's so much warmth to be found here, the heat kindled in the base of the queen's tummy and exploding outward.

"Shhh," Emma's smile trails the length of Regina's blushing neck. "We don't want to wake them."

Black coats laid out beneath them like a picnic blanket, Emma continues undressing them just enough so that their legs can tangle together, and her mouth has unfettered access to the dusky twin peaks aching for her attention. Deeper in the cave, the rest of their party is tucked away in cramped nooks carved into rock wall. One of them stirs, brow scrunched in sleep, as the echoes of the queen's pleasured whimpers die off slowly.

Emma still wonders, does Regina do this on purpose? Cry out in exaggerated ecstasy to get a rise out of her parents?

"Shhh," She coaches again, pressing her fingers a little harder into the wrists she's pinning down against their blanket of coats. Her mess of curls spill over like silk curtains, hiding them both when she ducks down and sucks on her lover's bottom lip, begging entrance swiftly granted to her. Her knee cap grinds against Regina's panties, dry cotton against her skin. But after several minutes of just holding both the queen's wrists with one hand, her other toying with one of the royal nipples, teasing tiny indentations with her nail, tracing the outline around and around, dragging down to follow the teasing curve of the fleshy swell, and the slow invasion of the savior's tongue sinking deeper and deeper into the wet heat of her lover's mouth… sucking lewdly on the tip of Regina's tongue… tasting the berries they'd shared… tasting the gasping moans, every hitch of breath that begged for more…

The cotton's not so dry anymore. Regina's legs wrap around the savior's hips and seem to demand something she can't quite give. Still, Emma grinds down a little harder with her knee and watches her lover practically choke on needy pleasure. She feels the way something soaks through the panties and coat her knee. She feels the outline of her lover's pussy and hears it squelch with every slow rocking motion.

The removal of the savior's knee prompts a protesting cry, swiftly clogging Regina's throat when a strip of fabric is shoved aside and two fingers sink inside of her, curling inside the tight heat and stretching out.

"Ah," Emma hisses at the nails digging into her flesh, the way they drag down her back before taking purchase on her hips. Another flash of lightning reveals the tortured features of her lover's face, eyes clenched shut and teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

A single bead of blood. Emma catches it with her tongue, the iron causing her sensors to flare up. Their kiss is bittersweet now, Regina moaning into the blonde's mouth, thighs trembling as two fingers circle inside her. She tastes her own blood on the savior's tongue, she digs her nails deeper into the younger woman's flesh.

The louder Regina gets, the more Emma deepens the kiss, until the savior's throat burns with each swallowed scream.

When her knuckles are drenched, released from the tight press of her lover's rhythmic clenching, Emma pulls out and sucks the digits into her mouth. "You taste…" She smirks around her fingers at the way it already makes the woman pinned beneath her weight whine in mild embarrassment. Emma swallows the description just this once and merely enjoys the salty flavor, the sound of her sucking barely heard above the raging storm.

Their heat is fleeting. The moment their breath steadies they're shivering again. Still somewhat committed to keeping watch out the cavern entrance, they remain there instead of retreating to the relative warmth deeper inside.

Brow arched with some amusement, Emma quietly allows the brunette to tangle their fingers together. They don't usually hold hands. They're back to sitting up, somewhat slumped against the sloped walls, and Regina's gaze is fastened to the flashes of lightning which illuminate the jungle outside. Emma memorizes the soft curve of her face, notices the smudges of dirt and dark lines embedded into what had been flawless, unblemished skin a couple weeks ago.

The warmest part of her body is now her one hand. She's not entirely certain Regina knows that she's playing with it. Emma closes her eyes and tries not to make a sound, her lover's thumb digging into the center of her palm. Her knuckles crack loudly as the sorceress snaps her fingers back, testing the savior's double jointedness. Emma forgets she's not sleepy. The thunder sounds like the purr of an engine. The rock walls feel like leather. When she starts to slump over it's like she's spilling onto the backseat of her car, knees cramping up. The radio's on, playing a station filled with the light humming of a wanting mother, and the kid's mindless chatter plays in the back of her mind like static.