I Can't Get You off of my Mind (and Maybe I'm Crazy but it's True)

Chapter Two: Cognac and Smoke

Emma should feel like she's won the lottery. And she does. Just not over the right thing. She's signed. Her art will sell. Will be in Mills Gallery. A blonde haired assistant had come in and finished the deal with them, saying something immediate had come up and Ms. Mills had to deal with it but that she had green lighted the deal.

And Emma had done it. Had secured part of her dream. Because now her mind was dreaming of the art director. She's going to be working with her. Side by side with her.

She can't help the bubbling feeling rising inside her chest. And the way Regina had just...been, was so enticing to Emma that when Killian suggested drinks to celebrate it, she had shaken her head no and coyly taken his hand as she lead him back to the apartment.

"Fuck me hard," she had said and he did, taking her on the bed. She closed her eyes and imagined Regina as she did. Now she had a face and name to the scent and she came hard, relief hitting every last edge of her body.

It felt good to let go like this. To finally fuck the mystery and appeal of the scent out of her system. But as the week went by after this, she found herself dreaming of Regina and even smelling her during the reaches of her slumber, and she realized it wasn't a one off thing.

No. For some reason the scent had gotten it's hooks into Emma's brain and she couldn't stop thinking about the art director and of tasting her flavor on her tongue.

It was frustrating and a pain in the ass. But she liked it even though she should hate it.

She didn't want to work with Emma. She wanted to work with Emma. She didn't...she did...her thoughts ran in circles as her body warred. Her alpha side told her to go after Emma. To claim her as hers. And her human side told her no. That nothing good would come of it and that she had Robin and Roland waiting for her at home.

So after the deal had been brokered, she tried everything in her power to avoid Emma. Often, she sent Kathryn in her place, the assistant often wide eyed at this prompting. Questions lingered in her eyes but Regina did not answer them.

However, even sending Kathryn was futile as the woman would come back, hints of the omega's scent lingering on her. It was trace notes, but enough to make Regina long after Emma with a longing that wasn't normal for her.

It was enough to get her worried that she might be going crazy.

She looks into this, because its not normal. She knows it's not.

She googled up some things discreetly, not wanting to expose herself and tell others the truth about her. The web results do not reassure her. In fact, they only stress her out more. Mate, the websites spit out at her, and this much she suspected, feared, hoped, and yet she wants to punch her computer screen so as if to erase the truth of the matter away.

Apparently finding a true mate is an intense experience and this insanity is all the regular for those afflicted.

So maybe it is normal what she's feeling, and she's not normal in trying to fight this. She knows that she and Emma are mates; had known it in the back of her mind before even looking this up even if she did not want to actively believe it. Biology has chosen so and like they learned in school, biology knows what it's doing. It's best to shut off the brain and just let it be. Mates are chosen by compatibility. By what they can offer their mates. Emma could give Regina something that neither Robin with his gentle love making, Roland with his toothy grin, or Little John with nuzzling, can not.

She just doesn't know what. And she doesn't want to despite how her body yells at her like a drill sergeant. She has something good with Robin and Roland and their shared dog. And to throw it away? Just because some scents and pheromones tell her too?

It seems stupid. She can be happy without a proper mate. Besides, those pheromones. Those pulls on her body have happened before. Granted, not as intensely. But still there.

And to lose her family over that? Over someone like Emma?

She's sure it'll pass, sure that some have been able to live without accepting their mate or even finding one. She just needs to weather it out. And there is a lot of stormy weather to ride out. When she's got a moment alone she jerks everything out of her system that she can. She doesn't want to use Robin to dispel her feelings. It feels wrong. Feels like she would be using him. It's also what makes her shy away from his touch whenever she's home. His hands, gentle and caring, feel wrong. They should be smaller. Leaner. Skilled, a brush between them. Or stained with paint that they try to rub off.

Instead they count money or shake hands to make deals before signing with a fancy pen. And it irritates her for reasons it shouldn't but does. And its all because of stupid biology.

So when he asks what's wrong, why she scowls or tenses up by him, and she tells him it's nothing he takes that at face value as her just being moody. As stressed over a deal.

She doesn't want to worry him about this other woman. Because she won't allow herself to go down that path.

Emma hasn't seen Regina ever since their initial and brief meeting. It worries her for reasons not at all pertaining to art or business. A deep need to see her, itches under her skin, burrows it's way there. But no matter how many times she asks Kathryn to speak to Miss Mills, the woman does not budge and short of storming into the art gallery and rushing past security to Regina's office, or in stalking her home address, Emma has no choice but to wallow in her dissatisfaction.

"Since when do you smoke?" Killian asked, furrowing his brow up as he picked up the discarded pack by Emma. It only had one cigarette missing, the rest forgotten and the outside of the box crumpled up as if in frustration. "And isn't this a different brand than yesterday?"

He had been more observant than Emma gave him credit for. It wasn't like she was trying to hide her new addiction. She just couldn't get it right. Couldn't find the taste of which smoky scent it was that Regina smelled like. She knew, that it was more of a natural smoke scent. Like wood chips used to cook a barbecue. But Emma couldn't smoke that. It wasn't possible. So this was the closest she could get. Maybe she could with cigars? Or maybe with a pipe?

She was being crazy, wasn't she? First getting Killian a cognac scent after shave so Emma could smell Regina on him, and now trying to taste her scent through smoking, trying to taste Regina in every kiss, in every breath.

"I'm stressed. Artists get stressed. And they do dangerous habits to get them through it." She doesn't believe the lies in her words. But he does.

He snatched the tar stick from between her fingers and threw it off the small window balcony they had. "This is a stupid habit. If you want dangerous, do sky diving."

He knows she's not going to do that and she frowns at him. She was done with smoking cigarettes anyways. She's going to move onto cigars. She thinks they'll taste more like Regina.

Regina knows she can't keep hiding from Emma forever. It's immature. And foolish, her alpha side tells her. Unless she fires the woman, she is forced to work with her and get her art selling. Regina has already made the commitment, now she just has to follow through.

And she's not going to let some stupid biology determine her life choices for her. She's stronger than that. She lets Kathryn set up a meeting between them and then sits at her desk, perusing some layout plans for where Emma's art will be hung up. Emma arrives early to the appointed time, eagerness shining in her eyes, and her cheeks pink. She knocks on the door but Regina can already smell her through it. That's how powerful her scent, her appeal, is.

"Come in," she says, voice husky already and out of her control.

Emma goes in, chest inhaling deeply as she takes Regina's scent in. There's no doubt she's aware they're mates too, and hopefully the woman will have sense enough to ignore it and go on with her life with that Killian clown. This is just business. And it shall remain just business between two women.

The blonde settles down in front of Regina, pressing down the wrinkles on a wrinkle free shirt out of nervous habit. Her hair is in a ponytail that allowed more pheromones to go free and Regina sucked in a huge dose of them as Emma sat down, her hair swinging slightly with the motion.

The scent goes straight to Regina's crotch and she tightens her thighs together as she feels the blood pouring down there, making her harden.

She forgets to speak for a little bit and when she recovers she can see a similar glassy look on Emma's face.

Oh god, Regina doesn't know if she's strong enough to do this. Maybe she had overestimated her determination and control because it all seems to be slipping from her hand faster than sand through fingers. She's pressing against her desk, pulling her chair as close to Emma as she can get and Emma is leaning forward too, eagerly, almost like she will fall from her chair.

Arousal leaks into the air between them and Regina mindlessly shifts through the paper forms on the table top, as if she can gather her thoughts this way. But the words are a blur on the page and she feels lost.

"Ms. Mills," Emma's voice breaks her free of the lusty stupor and she jerks her head up to see that Emma is not so discreetly checking her out. Her body, her face, her clothes, and the flustered state Regina is in. There is an amused quirk to the corner of Emma's pink lips and her chest is rising up and down quickly as if she had spent some time fulfilling dirty inner thoughts. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes," Regina blinks, frowning because she was not happy to be caught in a position like this. In having Emma see her in a moment of weakness. "About your show. We need to pick a room design for it."

"What did you have in mind?"

For you, a lot, Regina thinks inwardly as she takes in Emma's form. The blue flower printed top, the tight brown slacks and the heels. She wondered how Emma would look under it, and allowed herself to feel a bit of satisfaction when she saw that Emma had crossed her legs and was holding them tightly like this. Regina wasn't the only one being affected this way by the pheromones and it made her feel a bit better about her plight.

"Since you do a lot of grunge art, I was thinking maybe a city backdrop."

"Like brick walls?"

"Yes, something like that," Regina says and she speaks less than eloquently. But how can she, when hormones crowd her brain. "With florescent lights. And manholes on the floor. Here's a rough sketch of it." She slides a paper over, careful that her fingers do not brush with Emma's, other wise she doesn't know what would happen.

Emma takes the paper, looks it over. Seems satisfied. "This should do the trick. Do you know by when it would be open?"

"The best time for opening an art gallery is during the fall. People don't travel as much and they're bored and want something to do."

"Awesome. I think I should be able to finish up my last pieces by then." Emma too looks distracted and slightly breathless on all her sentences. She rubs the back of her neck, unknowingly releasing more pheromones. Regina tries not to breath too deeply.

"I'll give you a more concrete date later. I just need to find get some contractors for this and maybe a DJ that will play appropriate music."

"And the food?"

"Also will be themed. Maybe you can help me with that. You might know what city dwellers eat more than I do," Regina gave a wry smile.

"Oh, I certainly do," Emma chuckles coyly- Regina's sure it's not meant to be coy, but it sounds like that to her ears.

Her erection throbs in time with the syllables slipping free from Emma's mouth. It's so hot and aching, and she casually reaches a hand down under her desk covertly to palm it, hoping it will give her some respite. It doesn't work and she nearly hisses as her pants material begins to irritate her swollen member.

Emma too isn't in any better state, shifting in her seat like it's hot and flexing and unflexing her hands. Their arousals are feeding off of each other and when one gets more aroused so does the other which in turn arouses the other even more.

Regina jiggles her leg. They needed to end this meeting. How much longer of this madness could she withstand?

"We'll talk about this more. Another time," Regina manages out of a tight throat, shuffling her papers together so that it's clear to Emma she needs to leave.

Emma looks a bit disappointed and relieved to be let go. "Right. Thank you for all your help." She rises up and stiffly walks towards the door. Only when it shuts with a silent whoosh does Regina tear up from her seat, leaving it spinning, and rush to her private quarters in the back. She barely makes it in before she undoes the button on her slacks and presses her back against the door for support as her knees go weak.

She's jerking hard, one hand on the wall, clawing into the paint job. It doesn't take much to set her off and she cums all down her hand, still pumping hard and getting it all over her pants. Her expensive pants which she will no doubt have to throw out.

But she feels better now, catching her breath as she comes down from blinding pleasure.

Kicking her ruined pants, she goes to the bathroom to clean up a bit and put on a new pair. She'll need to air the office out no doubt about it. God, why is this happening to her?

Why did she have to find someone like this now? Now when she was happy with Robin and Roland?

But something inside her asked, was she truly? If she was so happy, then she wouldn't have Emma's omega side calling to her like this. But if it was one thing that Regina was, it was stubborn and she wasn't going to give into whatever was going on with her body.

There was no way to hide her attraction to her boss. Simply no way. Emma fretted when she came back from her meeting with Regina not an hour ago and she had been fretting ever since, wearing a hole into the cheap brown rug in her dining room. Her hair was down now, shirt unbuttoned and spot between her legs still throbbing with a wet heat.

Regina had smelt her. There was no way she couldn't. But Emma had also smelt Regina and for some reason, she had been aroused too. It blew her mind how her beautiful boss could be aroused by her, could want her that way, but she did and Emma was excited by it. Even though she knew she shouldn't be, she was.

She had listened well enough in her health class to know what this was-an intense and instant sexual attraction could only mean one thing. Her body had decreed Regina her mate and she was sure it applied vice versa because nature was just like that. But what did Regina think of it? Should Emma even make a move? It was her boss after all.

Damn. What did she do? And what did she do about Killian now? She knew she would have to break up with him sooner or later but she cared for his feelings too. Fuck. She hadn't expected any of this happen. She was screwed.

She let out an unhappy groan and sunk into a worn out couch. This was not how she had planned becoming a contracted artist going. She had thought all she would do was sell paintings and get rich. Not fall for her boss.

She clenches her eyes shut, hand crawling unbidden to the throbbing spot between her thighs. She rubs slowly against the fabric, breath hitching in her throat at the pleasure that's filling her. All meeting long she had been thinking about Regina getting down on her knees between Emma's legs and burying her face there.

Emma's hips jerked up at this fantasy. She rubbed harder.

Regina would peel Emma's soaked lips apart and push her tongue in, all demanding with her, sucking and licking. Her teeth would be barely hidden behind plump lips and would nip and tug on Emma's clit.

"Fuck," Emma swore. She hadn't gone more than two minutes into her fantasy or even properly touched herself and she was already cumming. A wave of warmth flooded her panties and she let her head flop back as she let out a deep sigh.

She stared at the ceiling in worry. What the hell could she do now?

She glanced over a the wall where there was a single picture of her and Killian, smiling at each other in love. She bit her bottom lip. If she wanted Regina, she couldn't want Killian. There was no way she could have both.

And now it was going to be time for her to decide who. Something told her it wouldn't be a hard decision.

For the time being, nobody makes a move. They both try to remain as neutral as possible. Regina promises to herself she'll drop Emma from her artist roaster once her show is over, which will happen in about three months, this way, sparing both of them from further torture.

They do, however, still have to meet up occasionally to discus things and those are the meetings that often take the most out of them physically and emotionally.

"Ugh," Emma scrubs her eyes, tired from staying up late and having to travel to the art gallery for this talk that could not wait. "They really fucked us over, didn't they?" she grumbles as Regina feds her the news.

"They did," Regina responds with as they both pour over the papers on her desk, trying to find another contracting firm. The previous one up and just decided to cancel on the contract, halfway through the remodeling. So Regina was left with a room in the gallery with torn down walls and light fixtures and nothing else completed.

Assholes.

Regina's hand landed on Emma's as she spoke to her. It wasn't a conscious action and one she couldn't withdraw out of now if only to maintain her dignity. "Don't worry. We'll figure all this out before your big showing."

The touch makes Emma speechless and all she can do is nod her head and swallow. She's trying to keep her feelings under control but it's not easy. Why couldn't the process of finding her mate be easier? Why did her body want her to suffer so much? It was almost payback for something she hadn't known she'd done and now the universe had it in for her.

She didn't hate the feeling, as much as she whined about it and bemoaned it. She just didn't like how it had to be her boss. Someone not entirely attainable right now. But maybe after the show was over...? All Emma knew was that she had been searching for her mate for the longest time. She'd be damned if she didn't make a move eventually.

Emma filed away those foolish thoughts and focused on her show. "Let's make this the best damn show we can," she said, because she wanted everything to sell out so as to impress Regina.

"Alright," Regina agreed and for the rest of that meeting, their hands did not move from one another, silently supporting each other.