Chapter Seven: Lust, Caution

Serving as the mayor's executive assistant, Erik surmised, was much like what he imagined serving the Queen of England was like. There never arose a moment where her most faithful servant blabbed to the press, triggered scandal in a spiteful tongue, or jeopardized the integrity of the mayor's office. Of course, it had been understood from the foundation that everyone worked for the mayor. Erik's position, though, ranked far above the rest. The 'Special Relationship,' as citizens of Storybrooke nicknamed, was held together with a confidence none could comprehend.

He was her right hand man; always present to defend policy, promote order, and retrieve a lunch order when called for. He was a shining example of loyalty without the pomp, and he discovered that he was quite fond of the position he likened to an almost divine calling.

While the mayor and ably willing assistant upheld a sense of formality in the public eye, behind closed doors it was a more casual affair. His duties here were just as shrouded in secrecy, among them included the interior design of her office and tracking the whereabouts of then ex-Sheriff Swan. He had access to the intimate details of the mayor's personal itinerary, having scheduled medical and hair appointments on her behalf. Erik exhibited such trustworthy company that he was even allowed the affections of her son.

While he would not exaggerate their relationship to the point of friendship, he did view himself as a kind of confidante in a professional capacity. Erik was the first to hear of policy before it presented before council meetings. All her speeches went through the keen eyes of her assistant and returned clean and sparkling and humored with an occasional German turn of phrase. He was the only person she could rail to about incompetent workforce and frivolous spending. His silent contribution made him ideal. Erik, though sharp as a tack and independently minded, knew his place. Even the rare request for advice was granted with a soft spoken opinion, something that wouldn't rustle the feathers of opposing sides. In the end, he always chose the mayor regardless of his own politics. It was the reason why he currently resided as the longest running clerk in service to the mayor.

One such example of 'closed door laboring' occurred that morning. Erik sat in comfort and under no duress across from the mayor. Regina had spent the first two hours of their workday ironing out the annual State of the Town address, while he edited briefings. He worked with his usual high level of cooperation, but had recently been distracted.

Though the mayor's behavior had not been unusual enough to voice concern over, Erik began to take closer notice. Impromptu, urgent matters took her away from the office more and more. Lunch breaks sent him across town to venues he never knew existed, and when the hardworking assistant was usually the last to lock up, lately it had been the mayor who burned the midnight oil. She could also be described as growing more secretive. One instance she failed to supply him her personal itinerary in managing dry cleaning pickup, so he cautioned a look only for the blank white pages to stare back. According to Erik's observations Regina was becoming forgetful, spontaneous, and frightfully nonconfrontational.

Most peculiar of all, a kind of hush surrounded his mayor. When a flurry of activity echoed through the corridor she was quick to close her office door rather than snap at the heels of boisterous clerks. She hardly instigated a battle, and, to Erik's grief, rarely asked for his opinions. She was like a petulant giant sedated, her once booming growl now a delicate vibration. It was as if some great force had struck her dazed. There were times Erik had to repeat his inquiries and reports in order to snap his boss out of it.

Business became a secondary priority and had persisted in this manner for days. In fact, the mayor's behavior began around the time Erik bumped into the sheriff that one night. Strange, he thought.

Stealing a glance beneath his blonde lashes, Erik saw the mayor scribble through her speech. Her stride had not changed and her lips remained still as marble. It was only a matter of time before she would excuse herself for an unscheduled appointment at some nameless location.

Eric went back to the briefing in his lap, but continued to puzzle over new insight. Could Emma be reason for the mayor's personality change? Were they fighting over poor Henry again? Or perhaps they had come to an arrangement? The latter would certainly have explained Regina's restraint. Erik knew more than anyone in Storybrooke how much she loved that child. She would make any deal with the most hard-headed foe to ensure the safety and well-being of her son.

"Erik, I just remembered I have an engagement with the County Director of Safety and Health regarding the town's mining zones." Her eyes roved blankly over her planner. "It is at two o'clock. I think I will take an early lunch."

He frowned, absolutely positive there was no 'engagement' scheduled in or out of her itinerary. "But it's only 10:30 in the morning."

"I want to have time to prepare for his arrival."

He watched the desk being cleared quickly and with premeditation. "I can save you the time by retrieving something for you, Madam. Yes?"

"Thank you, Erik, but that will not be necessary." Swiping down wrinkles in her gray trousers, Regina snatched up her car keys and purse, both waiting within convenient reach. "Feel free to use the space of my desk while I am gone. I know how you like to sprawl out."

He returned her smile, not feeling the usual warmth the teasing elicited. Even her words seemed as distracted as the smile.

His veiled concern followed her brisk heel clicks out of the office. He hoped Emma had nothing to do with the mayor's change. He'd hate to see the young sheriff get hurt, and, for the sake of his career, Regina too.


"I actually am busy, you know?"

"Yes, I can see that. An awfully rare happenstance bordering on the supernatural."

Emma hadn't read two lines of the report before it was being pushed, centimeter by agonizing centimeter, away from her viewing pleasure. With a growl she slapped her hand to the file and slid it back to its proper place. Not a minute later a clattering of pens and pencils sprung Emma from her work. Her glare met a curious finger shuffling around through the various items on her desk: a pencil holder, paper clips, post-it notes, and the cord of a phone.

"Don't you have better things to do than distract me?"

"What can be more important?"

"I don't know," Emma replied, waving her pen lazily before retreating into paperwork. "How about running a town?"

Regina sighed and took up the kicking of a computer mouse like it was a soccer ball between her fingers. Suddenly the item was wrested from her by a very irate sheriff. The mouse flew out of her reach with a smack to the desk that made the mayor jump. Still elegantly perched on the desk, Regina folded her mutinous hands in her lap. Her pout did not portray an inch of subtlety.

"Are you angry?" she asked, softer than necessary.

Emma felt the iron chains draped over her shoulders. Maybe it was time to shrug them off and apply them elsewhere once again. The thought made her sigh. She placed down her pen, covered her face with the palm of her hand and replied, "No, I'm not angry. I'm just tired."

"You know that I hope it is through no fault of mine."

"Yes," Emma said.

She peeked through her fingers in time to witness the contemplation blooming across the mayor's face. Green eyes slipped down, her pupils expanding. She liked how Regina tugged at her bottom lip; it was a relieving tip-off that the woman actually thought before a word or action sparked World War III.

No sooner had that relief took hold before she realized Regina had come to kneel at her feet. Her hands were placed on jean thighs, thumbs wandering patiently, and chin dipped in supplication.

"This is how you like me."

It occurred to Emma she had not been asked. Those past few days Regina had come to know exactly how Emma liked her. And how sweet it was for Emma's needs not only to have been taken notice of but satisfied to her heart's content.

Eyes still darting over a seemingly emotionless face, searching for approval, Regina took each boot and slid them off. Every click of the boot's zipper felt like an eternity which was then smoothed over with a gliding palm. The calf muscles jumped under her caress. She then cupped her hand around Emma's neck and at an achingly slow pace drew the lips down to hers. Regina watched the eyes slip closed, the mouth open fully to hers, and drink what was offered. The neck muscles released their tension under her fingers. With a touch like balm, she followed wherever the tightness migrated, smiling into Emma's mouth and knowing exactly where the source lied.

All of Emma's attention flew from her work as if it never existed in the first place. She poured her every focus into the kiss until she heard the tell-tale sound of a jean zipper being undone. Each click of metallic teeth supported the methodical leisure with which it was carried out. Emma breathed out impatiently as the pert, delirious lips receded. Dazed, she watched them go, tracking their next destination like her life depended on it. Time seemed to stand still – or had it just skipped ahead of her? In all the while she was thinking of Regina and the things she'd asked of her over the course of their new relationship, every stich of clothing from waist down had been divested and replaced with a hot, velvet tongue.

The relieved moan sung like magic to Regina. It told her how right she had been to disrupt Emma's morning. It spoke of how the needs of one rivaled that of the other. This distraction, lavished by a succulent mouth, was not only acceptable but expected.

Regina added to the breathy song by wetting her lips and sliding them over Emma's center. Her tongue replaced and skidded up, across, and around in patterns that sent hips delirious. She traced dizzying trails around a hard clit, running her tongue down through more wetness and returning to the bundle of nerves with more heat. When it all became too much for them Regina dipped her tongue, shallow at first as though to notify Emma of her company before slipping into depths wet and throbbing.

As if the long, aching groan of her name wasn't enough, Regina felt an iron grip on her shoulders grasping and convulsing around her grey suit jacket to supply her confidence. Not that she needed the assurance. Her efforts could have been conveyed with more intensity when bereft of one such helping hand or exclamation. The only requirement came in the form of a smooth, divine face. The stamina in Regina could be shaken by soulful lips and the kind of utter beauty captured in portraits and sculpted from alabaster. For Emma's grace was not common but her own – annoyingly liberated and experienced beyond her years though unforsaken of youthful wit.

She looked upon this face as she lavished with tongue and ravenous moans. Despite the cold, hard floor against her knees she endured. The sting, it could be said, kept her going. Regina kept on her knees not because she had to be there but because she wanted to be. If only Emma knew how painful it was to want this.

The armrests caved under the grasping pressure of Emma's hands. Nails clawed it to shreds as teeth gripped the base of her clit and a sharp lashing from a tongue finished her off. Searing pleasure and tender pain cascaded over her in waves. She grit her teeth in a silent scream before sinking slowly back into the chair. The waves receded, leaving the black void of her insides just as desolate.

Regina settled herself in the despondent lap, thighs straddling the still trembling ones below. She looked on hazy green eyes as she grazed her palms up Emma's arms until blushed cheeks were hers.

Emma didn't pull away from the damp palms. They encased her face like an iron prison without windows. Nor did she meet the ever watchful gaze. Regina's eyes must have been dark, delicious, and agreeable to any whim requested by her sheriff. What more could Emma ask for? What was so wrong with this new lease on absolute gratification?

"Kiss me," Emma said.

Regina obeyed. She kissed and combed back strands by the pads of her fingers. When compelled by urgent hands to her back, her mouth pressed harder, her breasts connecting with the rounded swell of Emma's. They came apart for breath only to close in again to taste eager mouths.

Finding ample reason in the kiss, Regina's hand dropped from the smooth skin of a cheek to a vital desire between spread thighs. She would always find her place there, amid truth and consequences – there where Emma's weakness streamed through her fingers. It felt much like home or a place alike to haven; to live there, thrive and thrill if only for a few minutes. But to be granted access was an achievement in itself for Emma guarded her truths like a pacing hound. That it could be taken away at any second, that Emma could just as easily rescind permission awoke an old pastime in Regina.

Lately she had found herself on a tipping point between banishment and granting endless pleasure. Like Atlas shrugging the balance of Earth, Regina's pain claimed her efforts to keep equilibrium. One toe out of place and it all fell apart and she'd be left with nothing. Striving to keep this balance weighed heavy upon Regina, yet she scrambled as madness would to collect the dregs of bliss from this suffering. There was a fine line between comfort and misery through the intensity which they are pursued. After all, a mother tried so hard to obtain the affections of her son and received only contempt for her efforts. And to hate someone so thoroughly, so blindingly that it stirred her heart anew. How ironic these absolutes. How very misleading.

"It brings me to pieces," Regina admitted, working her fingers through Emma, "to see you unhappy."

Like pulling a nose towards the indefinite 'X' on a map, Emma directed her hand to cover the ministrations of Regina's own. This alone was response enough to see herself happy again.

Regina kissed her way along a jaw. It was bestowed with such tenderness it raised the hairs on Emma's skin. When teeth nipped at her earlobe she shivered. When the gentle force of fingers curled and scissored inside her she threw herself into a heavenly arch.

Blood rose to the surface of cheeks overcome with kisses. Regina's breath scorched across the heavily kissed mouth. Bucking into the hand pressing hers to the heat of a wanting core, Regina offered every last scrap of power at her disposal – save for one.

"Oh," she purred, "so tight and wet." She could feel walls clamping desperately hard around her. Emma was impossibly close and exquisitely awe inspiring. She looked so beautiful to Regina like this all she could do was stare in wonder. Her tongue snaked out to flick against Emma's parted, gasping lips. "Won't you come for me, my brave sheriff?"

Emma came, easily. Hands knotted themselves in the mayor's clothes, nearly shredding them in wake of her chaotic orgasm. She could have plummeted to her knees if the chair hadn't caught her first. A fall like that would have had disastrous consequences, considering the height at which she had been taken.

"Shit."

Regina chuckled. "I take it you approve?"

The nod she received was then traded by a delighted, if not exhausted, smile.

"I cannot say it was insufficient for me." Leaning back to catch the full extent of Emma's satisfaction, Regina said, "But I wouldn't dream of putting my needs before yours."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't have said that a few weeks ago. What's changed?" She swallowed hard, not sure if she really wanted to know.

Regina stayed silent a while. "I realized what I had and decided not to squander it."

"You decided. Just like that?"

"Mm," the tips of Regina's fingers sketched a troubled forehead and curved around a cheek, "it was a slow burn realization."

"Right."

"You don't approve?"

The overused phrase had not been lost on Emma. "I… don't know," she stammered.

"Well, what do you know?"

Regina's lips luxuriated over her. Emma turned away just as they coursed down her neck. The overlapping kisses were not a reassurance. Instead, they excited the depths of her power. It should please Emma. This Regina should overwhelm her senses beyond all comprehension. The shocking thing about it was how successful it played out. The power did please her. And Regina was stoking something inside her that couldn't quite be snuffed. Emma, who had shied away from gestures of affection and who was too modest to take on heroic titles, felt as if she was being reborn. She was being cast from sturdier stuff, transformed like a phoenix into someone capable of much greater dominion. And not just as sheriff, but as woman.

"I know you can't harm me anymore," Emma said, rising and taking the slim waist. "You've given something up you wouldn't have parted with before." Their eyes held unflinching on each other as she steered Regina back until they met resistance. "I don't know why and I honestly don't care." Emma's nails dug in hard before ripping down the elegant gray trousers, the suddenness of the move catching Regina's breath. "You're asking me what I know…"

Regina's head fell back against the window blinds with thump. She heard the slap of her wet underwear falling to the floor. The sudden rush of air hit her core and she choked against the shriek crawling up her throat. Emma hadn't even laid hands on her. Of all the sheriff's skills, Regina wouldn't have guessed. Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head at the anticipation of having Emma inside her.

"I know, Madame Mayor, that I want this."

The cry that had been fueling in restraint finally freed itself as Emma's thigh came to press into Regina. In a manner wholly unknown to the mayor she began to thrash madly against the force. She couldn't know why but it seemed as if Emma hadn't been this near to her in ages.

"You don't have to be anywhere, do you?" Emma asked against breathless lips. "Like a meeting or something? Not that I care."

Regina's mouth fell open at the new onslaught of thrusts. She shook her head, bereft of speech, and continued her wanton squirms.

Chuckling lips fluttered against a rapid pulse point. "Are you positive?"

Regina moaned sharply, hips climbing up Emma's thigh with every push. Despite how desecrating it might look to her image as all-powerful mayor of Storybrooke, she curled her leg around Emma's waist for added leverage.

"I'll take that as a hell yeah."

"You enjoy mocking me," Regina said, her spiteful tone shaken.

"Maybe a little." Emma's lips quirked into an unapologetic smirk. "Or a lot."

What she got was not the expected slap in the face or barbed threat – either of those Emma fully expected and could have handled like the professional 'Mayor Wrangler' she was. But no. Instead she received a breathy whimper which became muffled against Emma's lips. It was as violent as it was suffocating. At that point, she couldn't quite tell if Regina was in pain or unimaginable pleasure, offended or quite shockingly grateful.

It sometimes troubled Emma, this transformation. She worried she was losing herself. The supply of desire they sought in each other seemed bottomless. But if she kept taking, what would be left of Regina? Of herself? Even if she could put an end to this wanton game, Emma feared she wouldn't. Things had changed so drastically between them; ever since she showed up drunk that night and Regina sealed them inside her office. After that night they came to an understanding, one which still turned over in Emma's mind. She searched for the small black print, the loophole that would cause her immeasurable disgrace, anything that would explain Regina's cordiality. It was uncharacteristic and a bit disconcerting, but nothing that left Emma at the wrong end of a scandal. There was no reason to seek a solution when no problem existed.

So nothing remained for Emma to do but take the gift so willingly given. Regina offered herself frequently, spontaneously, and in the most unusual places (the conference room just minutes after closing remarks, a late night park bench, and not only the Mercedes but the junk on wheels that was Emma's car of all locales). At first, she agreed out of sheer curiosity. Then, when the encounters continued innocently enough, she accepted greedily.

The shame of friends hearing of her appetite and the fear that she'd lose her job because she had been so unapologetically screwing her boss had dwindled to such a minuscule issue that it extinguished entirely. She could pull the screams and writhes without a care in the world for whose feathers they ruffled. Damn all consequences. Damn the delicate sensibilities of those that would gasp and point their hypocritical fingers. Emma wanted Regina from the beginning, even before their meeting in the forest. Now she had her, body and soul, controlling every aspect of the woman's pleasure. It was a kind of drug more potent than the world's deadliest pill or powder.

Emma kissed and sucked and tasted at the mayor's collarbone. The touches sent delightful shivers through Regina's body and contended with the blazing heat applied by the offered thigh. Emma asserted herself according to the muffled appraisals, surging relentlessly against the arousal coating her leg. Her hands plucked up the silk white blouse and crawled up the sides of a keening torso. Reveling in the crook of Regina's neck, she drew nails down her back, leaving angry red stripes through sweat.

Emma's eyes blinked open to the pained groan and stared unbelieving at her willingness to mar Regina's skin without a thought. She had gotten carried away, but apparently that was okay by Regina. Actually, it just might be well within her rights to do so. Inspired by this new lease on discipline, Emma bit hard into Regina's shoulder and dragged her fingers down that same track, earning another choking gasp. Yes, this was acceptable, it said.

Drunk on newfound power Emma imagined all the ways to sate this twisted desire. It came in flashes, the mired taboos and cravings, the kind of fantasies inconceivable to virgin eyes. All at once, from the woeful moans to the prospect of licentious acts, she nearly came undone. The fire she lit in Regina had grown so intense Emma caught flame and fervor. She refused to let up, unconcerned with the blinds crinkling under their rough little tête-à-tête.

"Do you want to stop?" she asked.

From between the blinds Regina saw the few pedestrians walking her streets. Like any other day they were going about their usual route, oblivious to the business being exchanged between their mayor and sheriff. All they had to do was glance up at the window. Humiliation. Disgust. Gossip. It would end her. It would end Emma. Like any politician her behavior reaped consequences. But unlike the typical civil servant Regina cared little for public image. At the moment, humiliation, disgust, and gossip provoked an intoxicating feeling. She felt it like tiny sparks crackling across her skin. The threat of castigation from the very people that elected her was a chilling threat, but the grounds for it… writhing in sin with Emma, it only succeeded in exciting her. She almost welcomed the stones that would surely be cast at hers and Emma's debauchery. She shook in ecstasy at the image of being bound to a stake and feeling the flames lick at their naked skin. To be burned with Emma, Regina presumed, might be comparable to the branding Emma gave her in the heat of lovemaking.

To answer Emma's question with a negative would be a peculiarity and an absurdity. It just happened that Regina was in a peculiar mood and estranged from all good and moral sense.

"No," Regina pleaded with half-closed eyes. "No, I don't want to stop." And her arms wound around Emma's shoulders, embracing, pulling, and asking 'please' without ever having to utter a syllable.

The appeal was granted as Emma saw fit. Her mouth set down, tongue slipping through sighs before pressing her thigh hard enough to send Regina over into thunderous spasms. They jerked, wrenched, and blared against the blinds, magnifying the threat of exposure. Emma never once asked herself who would be observing. She could care less what went on outside. Hell itself could crack open and suck the whole of Storybrooke in, but Emma wouldn't give a damn. Civil unrest might spread through the streets and she was pretty sure the mayor hardly cared to bat an eye. Not when she was so amply covering the sheriff's thigh in her current rapture.

"Emma," Regina exhaled, settling gently down from her euphoria.

She covered the neck before her in aimless kisses. Exhausted beyond grasp, she sagged into able arms. Her chest ached against the violent rhythms of her heart. Somehow, amid course lovemaking and its culmination in bliss, she found peace.

Emma heard her name repeated in supplication. Never had she likened it to a prayer, but coming from those swollen, sweet lips it sounded like heaven. She nuzzled against a glowing cheek and rasped firmly against it, "Clean it up."

A shiver trickled up her spine. Spent and dazed, Regina dropped at once to her knees. She took hold of the leg presented, winding her fingers around lean muscle, possessing and worshiping it like a limb of a goddess. The offering captivated her innocence. How could something as simple and plain as a leg be so lovely? Regina couldn't answer any more than she could refuse Emma's command.

Obedience in no short supply, she gave a loving nip to the kneecap before applying her mouth fully. Soft sighs mixed with Emma's as she ran her tongue along the strip of arousal. It peaked her curiosity to hear the repeated gripes from the sheriff on cleanliness. She never took Emma for an outright prude, not in the forest when her precious leather had been tarnished with tree sap, nor the many times she delivered services on a desk, chair, and every other surface of the sheriff's office. Those times, to Regina's bother, always ended in a demand to put things back where she found them. No, Propriety thy name was not Emma Swan. The truth of the matter, Regina concluded wryly, was that Emma found a home in declaring herself over the mayor.

Regina bathed her tongue to the slick skin as a cat would lap at milk. Muscles quivered under her fingers and goose bumps spread wherever she touched. The skin was soft like porcelain. Her own heady scent mingled with Emma's preference of shea butter soap and she covered it in moans. It was a heavenly recipe she'd gladly taste on her lips again. She ran her tongue up the femoral artery, lapping and cleaning as directed until her head was buried between Emma's thighs.

"No more, Regina." Emma's hand came down to shove at the hair-tousled head. "We're done." She drew her jeans back up and put on her boots. Returning shakily to her desk, Emma lowered herself into the chair, propped her elbow on the armrest, and let her head fall to her hand. "I have to get back to work," she sighed. Despite her responsibilities she was drained of the ability to raise a mere finger. Her eyes fell closed and she took a moment to collect herself.

Regina's eyebrows knit together. "Of course." She laid her rosy face in Emma's lap and breathed for a while. "I would like it if you came over tomorrow night."

Emma's stare ahead was indistinct yet unflinching. Her fingers pet through the woman's hair, vaguely detached. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Regina sighed into a knee, denim brushing lips like sandpaper balm.

As if programmed to, the green-eyed stare persisted as did the hand's stroking. Emma remained frozen under the weight, yet it warmed her to think she could cast it off with little effort. "Okay," she said.