Chapter Eight: What Lies Beneath

One day saw the sheriff and her deputy in an awkward state of affairs. Capping up the last hot morning of the summer, they took the opportunity to escape the stuffy confines of the station for the diner. Breathing fresh air at last, they spread their work out in one of the corner booths at Granny's.

Tension blossomed as soon as David set about his priorities. He began with the patrolling schedule they had been battling over to no end. David wanted early hours so he could continue volunteering at the pet shelter in the afternoons and help with the after-school educational program 'Kids and Canines.' Emma sought equal monopoly on morning patrols. Her reasoning remained undisclosed and as sheriff she did not have to explain herself. Despite David's crafty solutions the stubborn deadlock persisted.

From there, department related inquiries peppered Emma like machine gun fire. What were his specified responsibilities? In case of emergencies what should be done if the sheriff was unreachable? Should he ring her personal line? Relatedly, were cats in trees labeled an emergency? If so, did that require the assistance of the fire department and an ambulance? Speaking of, shouldn't a proposal be made to City Council on budgeting out an animal ambulatory service? Flight For Furry Life?

By then Emma's third and last pencil had snapped in half, driving her to demand the very pen Ruby was using to scribe their lunch order.

"Um, I guess," the waitress said, handing over the pen and sparing a quizzical look to David. "Would you like anything else?" she asked, a bit miffed. "Food wise."

"Coffee."

"Yes, ma'am. Anything for you, deputy?"

"I'm fine, thanks." He scratched the back of his neck, supplying the young woman with an apologetic smile.

Ruby nodded once and stalked away with more questions than answers.

After being harangued for the last half hour Emma stewed in uncooperative silence. A permanent scowl decorated her face.

"You doing okay, Emma?" David dipped his head to catch her eye. He kept a fair distance ever since the steely wall rose, but his concern only grew. "You've seemed a bit tense the last week or so."

She grunted vaguely and kept about her work with a serious frown.

"Is… everything all right at home?" he asked, tentatively.

"That's not really any of your business, is it? Unless you're committing adultery and sleeping with my roommate… then you must know the whole story, huh?"

David's eyes blinked wide. He recoiled, visibly battered by the tone.

"Don't act so shocked. You two are about as quiet as newlyweds."

"Emma –"

"I'm not going to rat you out," she interjected, flashing a dangerous set of eyes. "Though your wife probably deserves better."

"Why are you being this way? What happened, Emma?"

"I'd rather not talk about personal stuff when we're on the clock."

Like a kicked dog to the curb David bowed his head in submission. His eyes roved over the papers in front of them and he sighed. "Well, do you want to help me out with the police reports? I think I got the hang of classifying in order of priority – the seriousness of the crime, a perp's history, etcetera. But I'd feel more comfortable with your guidance."

"I'm not going to hold your hand, David," Emma snapped. "You're a big boy. Figure it out."

"I just thought," he stammered, "with the mayor giving you a second chance and all…"

"Yeah? Tell me something I don't know."

"Well, I assumed you might not want to risk losing it again – your job, I mean. Mayor Mills has high standards for every one of her employees. I know because I was sheriff –"

"For all of five minutes."

David wet his lips and pressed harder. "But I understand the patience and integrity it demands. I'm sorry if you feel like I'm lecturing you. It's not my intention, really. You're a good sheriff, Emma. Everyone knows it. If anyone needs lecturing it's me. I just want to…" he looked down but the rush of blood to his face couldn't be concealed, "Well, I want to make you proud." He saw his boss roll his eyes and begin to mutter a retort. "I want to help in the best possible way. If I'm going to be your deputy I need to know the ropes. And I'd rather not screw up your second chance in the process."

"It doesn't matter!" barked Emma. Her eyebrows knit, sulkily, as she caught a few startled customers in her crosshairs. She crossed her arms as if to defend against a war.

"What doesn't matter?"

"All of this! None of it! Who cares? It's just a damn job."

"If it's just a damn job then why did you work so hard to get it back?" He spotted the flicker of surprise across green eyes and nodded. "Yeah, Mary Margaret told me. You were killing yourself over it for days, trying to impress the mayor and dressing in overpriced suits and spending hours doing whatever girls do in the bathroom before an important date."

Emma scowled. "I was not! And don't say date like it was something of the casual sort. You don't know what I had to go through in those interviews."

"You think she hired me on good looks alone?" David pointed out with a stiff chuckle. "I had to go through the same process."

"Doubt it."

"It's that stubborn attitude that's going to get you in trouble again. You need me, Emma, to keep you in line, if anything."

"I don't need you to fucking babysit me, David. I need you to be my deputy. That's it. No questions asked."

"I don't know what's going on with you, lately, but whatever it is I hope you sort it out. You have a son to look after and he looks up to you. There's a town full of people here who are in the hands of two powerful women – the mayor and the sheriff. We all depend on you, so, no, it is not just a job. As sheriff you have a responsibility and an authority none of us have. I suggest you use your power wisely. I'm saying this as a friend, not as your deputy."

The crinkles around her eyes showed how much effort was being put into forcing her attention elsewhere. "Thanks for the pep talk," Emma said, her working jaw showing how grateful the news was received. She slid out of the booth, leaving behind her paperwork and her deputy in heavy silence.

After Emma stormed out Ruby took it as the all clear to approach. She set the mug of coffee and asked David, "Guess the sheriff won't be needing her cup of joe."

"No," David mumbled, sullenly. He stared vaguely down at his nail scratching into the table. "No, I dare say she needs something stronger."


Sparks and crackles set off in the brick hearth. Its sooty, blackened interior proved how much use it provided the owner. The heavy smoke particles could have been cleaned, of course, but its presence just added character. This particular fireplace had endured countless winters as well as the warmer seasons, too. The licking flames brought a similar cozy feeling in the damp heat of summer just as it did in cooler times. Staring transfixed by the amber and rust colored flames, one's anxieties could easily be diminished and find themselves transported to simpler times.

It was there in her study, blood orange light bathing her face and bouncing off her glass like sunshine, where Regina waited to receive her very special guest.

The inky blue-violet contents of her stemware swirled. A lovely Malbec she paired with supper earlier. According to the seller, whom Regina took for a pseudo-connoisseur in an understated tie, this particular Argentinian grape consisted of dark, plump flavors of blackberry, plum, and cocoa, and aged for a sweet tobacco finish. He also made the unabashed recommendation to prepare lean meats and rustic flavors with the wine – if she so wished to purchase a bottle.

The vendor had not been tipped for his advice, but Regina did find herself coming home with two bottles. She also made a point to reach for that sirloin tip from the back of her fridge and make use of those mushrooms too. The end result nearly had her speeding back to the store and laying a smack on both his cheeks. It tasted as divine as Emma. Very nearly so.

The rest of the second bottle waited, like Regina, just as eager for the guest of honor. She intended to let Emma judge for herself if the sweet finish could rate as her possible equal. She wanted the woman's take on the robust flavor almost as much as she longed to watch something exquisite pass her lips.

Regina took a small, restrained sip and reclined, head slumped back as her tongue rolled and lips puckered. Oh, how she wanted to watch it go down. Those huffy pink lips would look so good smacking to taste as they had at Regina's aching, wet center. It was a fantasy too stubborn to leave the mayor's mind that evening. And sitting in her cozy place next to the flames of the hearth just intensified that need.

A soft moan suffused within the room. It went unnoticed even to its owner.

Regina always predicted the sheriff to be an inadequate lover, even following the forest altercation. She never thought about it a whole lot, but the issue could not be ignored any longer. Since bedding Emma she took notice: the long, dexterous fingers; slight moans over hot cocoa; the way her back arched out of her chair into a stretch. Regina would surrender to say she had made a habit quite some time ago of spying on the sheriff from the opposite end of the diner and wondering over coffee what the sex would be like with her son's birth mother. The rest had been one of those passing notions everyone tossed around in their heads. They lasted just fractions of a second… love, marriage, family. They never meant anything and they passed on as forgotten as a penny down the drain.

But the sex never went as quietly from her mind. It persisted more frequently after consummation. In the midst of her seduction she would separate herself from her own needs and study Emma. Looking at Emma from across a restaurant and thinking about sex was one thing, but looking at her during the actual act had been a completely different experience. Regina started noticing things: the little sounds she made, the line between her brows and cute little pout when her fingers felt wonderfully trapped in wet heat, the "oh gods" spurred not from her own orgasm but from the simple fact that she actually managed to get an absurdly hot woman to scream her name.

Regina found herself paying more attention to Emma during these trysts, focusing on her pleasure rather than her own and attempting to bring about some new expression from her face (because Emma was nothing if not expressive in that frustratingly arousing way, whether Regina wanted to punch it or shove it between her legs). It was a fun game, all in all. Sometimes she took it to such lengths that a pillow was required to muffle the laughter because 'fun' never felt so god damn good. Leave it to Emma Swan to make her lover chortle in bed.

Sometimes their roles were reversed: Emma watching from below as Regina came down on those clever fingers. She could close her eyes and lose herself in the rough strokes with the knowledge that Emma observed as she had done before. The idea of her being watched like that with altering notions and startling fantasies sent a quivering rush through her body more intense than orgasm. Sometimes – and this really had her biting her lip in amusement – sometimes she would play out a series of sex-crazed sounds that had green eyes exploding to the size of saucers. Later, for some inexplicable reason, Regina would feel a sting of shame. There was nothing proper in what she inflicted on Emma much less what they were doing with each other. Essentially, she was putting on a show for the poor, unsuspecting sheriff and using her body to do it.

When had she become so shallow? Easy: when that woman barged into town and acted contrary to every little thing the mayor asked of her. When did she start using her sexuality instead of her wits to ensnare her prey? Well, that was a moot question; since as far back as she could remember being queen. And when in the ever loving hell did the sheriff become the poor sheriff? Regina had grown soft in her old age. That had to explain it for there could be no other sound reason. Or it could just be that Regina was so shamed by her behavior, so disgusted that she pitied herself and felt beholden to Emma as a result. Beholden, of course, to provide her true passion and pleasure.

Another taste of wine slipped past her lips. She felt insatiably parched all of a sudden.

Sating Emma's desires had been a simple thing, but what of her own? In the past, she had put herself through the motions with eyes shut and mouth pursed like the act was a chore. And always with a head turned away as if she should be thinking of someone else. Later, Regina found that she came quicker and much, much harder when her eyes were open and focused. Emma became a worthy site for sore eyes with her crinkling brow and burnt cheeks. She moved like no one else and responded to Regina's everything in a manner all her own. The uniqueness of the deed and the person sharing in it threw her off her game. It arched her back, beads of sweat rolling off, and had her screaming some stupid name to the heavens. Emma turned her inside out. Such a rare, puzzling effect all occurred – only occurred – when her eyes fiercely latched onto Emma's. She would never admit it. Never, not to anyone with a pulse. The thing about 'never' was that it worked both ways. Regina may never confess, but those orgasms experienced with Emma never lied.

The fire had since died down from a fierce roar to a meager spitting of embers. Emma was late and dusk had begun to close in like a rolling storm. Regina bit down on the wine red of her bottom lip. The dull sting was nothing compared to the aching need to be in Emma's arms again. And that scared her more than darkness.


"Mind if I turn a light? I can't see a thing."

Emma squinted through the heavy shadows to make out the vague outline. She took the waving hand as permission and patted the wall to flick the switch. The study was instantly bathed in soft gold light. It gave the opportunity for Emma to finally take in her hostess.

Regina was looking fine in a soft purple strapless dress that flared loosely down to her kneecaps. Her prominent bodice was shaped by wrapped panels. A slim belt cinched around her waist, accentuating her figure. Emma would hazard a guess that the material was silk chiffon, a weakness that got her hands buzzing to reach out and finger to her heart's content. Emma licked her lips in spite of her being watched as well. The lavender on harsh Madame Mayor stirred the butterflies in Emma's stomach. She looked so soft and friendly it was alarming. The design itself had its origins in practicality. It was the ideal summer dress, but Emma had to wonder if there were certain motivations for wearing this particular dress in the company of her guest.

"You look beautiful," she said clumsily, feeling the sentiment had been revealed some time after the fact. "You didn't have to dress up for me."

"I thought you might appreciate something you didn't have to wear your thumbs over to take off."

"That's awfully considerate."

"And I'd rather not have a repeat of yesterday…"

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"Not at all, dear. The mechanics of this one should not boggle your strategy. Unless you have my expressed consent you will not be fouling a stich tonight."

"Understood."

Emma bowed her head once, mouth twisting uncertainly. It was moments like this that made 'awkward' a constant guest between them. The dialogue carried across as formal, which always made it seem to Emma like those subscription questionnaires where you signed away your life for a monthly library newsletter. It was the silence between the chit chat and the objective that kicked awkward up to a whole new notch. It was the before and after that felt stilted like unfinished lasagna – it tasted so fucking good but what to do with the rest? One couldn't gorge themselves silly. One needed a proper time and place to resume feasting.

"Care for a drink?" asked Regina, brightened by a cordial smile. "Something to lubricate your tongue, perhaps?"

When she turned towards the kitchen it wasn't the twirl of a dress that set a heart to quicken, but her naked shoulder blades on display for Emma's viewing pleasure. Emma blinked over the glowing flesh and taught muscle. She moistened her lips and trailed after like a predatory in for its long sought meal.

These occasions never failed to frazzle her nerves. Even after a summer of Regina they refused to listen, much in favor of ricocheting like protons in a Hadron Collider. Emma hadn't yet found a solution to her awkward stuttering and soaking wet palms, but once those brown eyes flashed their vulnerability – even for a second – Emma pounced like a woman untamed.

Until then a little liquid courage would have to suffice.

With a smile Emma took the proffered drink by its stem. She twirled the glass once, squinted at the color, and dipped her nose in for a sniff. She then shrugged, like What the hell? It's just gonna taste like grapes anyway. Emma took an obscene mouthful of the wine and gulped it immediately.

"Not bad."

"It is meant to be savored, Miss Swan, not slugged in the manner of an Irish whiskey-bibber."

"I'm not Irish."

"Nor civilized."

"What do you want me to say?" Emma asked. She followed her hand is it gave an exaggerated flourish. "It tastes like the nectar of the gods! I feel so transported I can just feel the toil of Argentinian serfs!"

Regina's eyes widened a touch, taken aback by the lucky guess. "How do you know it's Argentinian?"

"I can read from here, Regina." Emma indicated to the wine bottle and its label and tipped back the last of the glass's contents. This time she let it swirl in her mouth and tingle her taste buds before swallowing.

"Well," Regina stammered to gain the upper hand, "Argentina is the fifth largest producer of wine. They don't need slaves to cultivate the grapes."

"That I did not read on the label."

"Yes, well, not everything is that obvious. Sometimes one has to put their nose to the grindstone in order to mine important detail. If one wishes," she conceded with a dip of her head. "If we all had our personal facts and figures plastered to our foreheads the world would be a frightfully idle place."

"Are we still talking about wine?"

"You believe there is a difference?"

Emma's features scrunched, genuinely. "I haven't exactly thought about it."

"Wine develops much like people do. A grape's character depends on its environment as well as the genetic diversity of its vine. The conditions of climate, the composition of minerals in the soil, and the amount of time it spends in barrels all have a hand in its cultivation…"

Brown eyes shimmering an amber hue, Regina waved her hand to and fro in sequence with her points as if lecturing to a grand stadium of graduate students. This appeared to be something the mayor had a genuine interest in, so Emma gave her the floor with a patient ear.

"… It is the complex grape that fascinates me. It ripens through torment and time, gaining a dynamism you otherwise cannot find on the coddled vine. And then there are the grapes simply too stubborn too mature."

"I guess you're right," Emma remarked. "People are a bit like wine. Though I wouldn't classify myself in terms of dense, dark, and acidic. I'm more than what my climate makes me."

"Spoken like a stubborn grape," Regina said, drolly. A curious notion then struck with a cocked head. She refilled Emma's wine glass before saying, "You do know more about wine then you let on."

"You could say it was an element of my previous job. One I never paid much attention to. At the end of the night my safety and income depended on my soberness to bring in the perp."

"Bounty hunting is a dangerous line of work, is it?" The anxiety clouding the mayor's features took precedence over the sardonic shot.

"Nothing a stubborn grape can't handle," Emma replied with a lopsided grin. "And let me guess, you're the dark and mysterious got-to-look-past-my-surface-beauty-to-get-to-know-me kind of grape."

Smoldering eyes narrowed. The naked curve of Regina's shoulder went up. "I am a mere Cabernet Sauvignon."

"Yeah?" Emma couldn't hear her herself over the blood pumping in her ears. Before she knew it Regina had led her out of the kitchen and was dragging her by the hand. With each stair climbed her heart pumped an extra beat to the swinging hips. "Cabernet Sauvignon, huh?" she reiterated when they reached the bedroom.

"Independent, driven, and holds high standards."

"Oh," Emma sighed a little breathily. "How can a stubborn grape like me exceed the expectations of fine wine like you?"

If Emma had been in her right mind she would have shot herself with her own gun for how corny it sounded. She normally wasn't a poet or a hit with romantic one-liners, but she could certainly hold her own in the bedroom. And that seemed to be all that Regina cared about at the moment.

The corner of a mouth twitched, verifying that Regina had not overlooked the remark. "The life of a fine wine is not easy. It must constantly live up to the palate." Brown eyes dropped to the wine stained lips. "A mouth can be awfully merciless in its pursuit for satisfaction."

Hands planted firmly on slim hips, Emma nearly moaned at how soft the silk material felt between her fingers. She matched the stare by dropping her gaze down to a pretty, mayoral mouth. "I'll be good."

"No." Regina's hand splayed out on the olive button down and slithered up until the collar was clutched flimsily in her grasp. The hands at her waist drew her in and she responded by looping an arm around Emma's neck. Steamy intent sheathed her darkened pupils as they flicked from Emma's eyes to her lips. "No. You won't."

Their tongues mingled hotly before mouths even touched. They opened wide to each other's desperation. Regina's kiss was sensual, begging for its equal. Emma met her sensuousness and then some.

They grappled and clutched as long as their lips endured the extensive kiss. Emma's tongue strove deep for more while Regina whined softly back. Emma's thoughts swirled like missing puzzle pieces to a much bigger picture. She felt hazy and a bit vulnerable in the moment despite the power her lips and tongue had over the other woman. Emma wasn't exactly drunk, but the tang of Malbec she licked from Regina's mouth intoxicated her. Without the added flavor à la Madame Mayor a grape was just a grape, after all.

Careful not to rip a stich (as contracted) Emma used nimble fingers in drawing the zipper down on the lovely dress. When they parted lavender silk chiffon fell away easily, leaving behind its radiant owner. Blown away by the image as if for the very first time, Emma slammed her mouth into that of a waiting one. She scrapped desperately over bare skin, clawing and pawing the beautifully toned and taught flesh like there still remained clothes to be torn.

Once they were naked Emma tossed her to the bed like rag doll. Regina but smiled good-naturedly. The sparkle in her eyes showed how favorable she was to being handled this way. A hastened lurch to her chest could not deter Emma from following through.

Climbing into bed, Emma's hands ran hastily from ankles on up. When she got to the slim waist her fingers dug in hard and sled Regina down the bed. Kneeling and nestled perfectly between spread thighs, Emma looked down on her target. She must have looked like a monolith of authority above Regina, capable of doing and saying anything that pleased her. She could treat the mayor as she saw fit and, god, did that power feel good. It was like an electric shock to her system, energizing her soul and lifting her confidence as high as it had ever gone. No fear of being stopped, no fear of getting terminated from her job again stood in her way. Nothing stood in her way when Regina's eyes said please, please, please.

Emma brought Regina up by the neck and brought her mouth hard to hers. The unrelenting kiss verified in the way her lips sealed around Regina's and sucked the life and breath from her. While Regina groaned and rocked against her Emma grabbed the thighs that braced shakily against her own and kneaded them just as crudely. It brought her satisfaction to feel all ten fingertips pressing to her back with urgency. Greater joy came when she began sucking on the tender skin of a neckline, the sudden marking causing the nails to claw and scramble over her back. Emma hissed in pleasure over the maimed crook of Regina's neck. She continued her assault, nipping, laving, and pulling from shoulder to clavicle. Expressed moans came in time with each harmful branding that would surely see the light of morning.

Just when Regina's hips began straining for contact she was released to fall back against the bed. A chill swept through her panting figure at the pair of eyes staring down. The blazing evergreen scorched her very flesh. She felt touched by Emma when no hand had been laid upon her. It felt like magic, untamed and white hot across her skin and invading her soul as an unexpected but very much anticipated guest. Once Emma set those unforgiving eyes on her gleaming wet sex Regina felt ravished already and opened her mouth in a loud groan.

Emma covered the sound with her mouth. She covered Regina's entire existence with her own body. Their overheated skin thrummed in sync, chaffing against one another to bring about a higher pleasure. They rocked and moaned together instantaneously as if a fire had ignited between them. And it would not be quelled.

At the height of their passion when lips kissed raw and the low, deep burn of their cores shook for release, Regina pulled away. Remorse would take over if her expectation for the night took no priority over short-term pleasures. Turning onto her stomach she reached for the bedside drawer, pulled it open, and dived in. Regina's fingers just barely grazed the leather pommel when her wrist was stayed.

"Not tonight."

"But –" The tightened grip on her wrist silenced her and she withdrew with empty hands. "As you wish."

But Emma hadn't climbed off. She didn't allow Regina to rise from her prostrate position when the neck looked so inviting. Its curve stretched out for Emma, tempting the low rumble in her chest to discharge. She dove down and mouthed at the area. Without warning her teeth bore into the flesh nearest the shoulder. Regina cried out at the shallow penetration, but her struggling soon turned to writhing and what once came as pain turned to immeasurable pleasure. The neat white teeth from Emma bit down shallowly, but they didn't fail to spread a dull ache. It spread, devoted and searching, to the most desperate of areas. At once, Regina's' sex clenched rhythmically to the frenzied bites. She muttered loud gasps and groans and offered herself up into an arch. She was still braced against Emma as they lay on their sides and stared at that open drawer. They moved in sync, recalling what they had done. Her hips motioned back shamelessly against the press of Emma's thigh as it gathered her arousal like dry, naked canvas.

When Emma was done she sucked the wound hard enough to bring out another muffled groan from Regina. She retreated to study her work. Green eyes flashed maliciously. Despite the beating she caused Regina Emma knew she deserved it for the lot of shit she doled out. It seemed like the sheriff had been getting her revenge ever since the mayor snubbed her in the woods. And it wasn't just for payback's sake. If Emma didn't know any better she would say Regina wanted to be maimed like this. She seemed to take to being claimed with gusto.

When Regina could turn over she took Emma by the back of the neck and pulled her down. The sweet, hot mouth clamped instantly on the side of her breast. Emma's tongue swirled and danced as she sucked heartily.

"Harder," Regina croaked.

Emma removed her mouth and brought it down on a dusky, pert nipple. She lavished it in the manner requested, pulling and suckling.

"Yes."

Such rich encouragement brought similar treatment to the other breast. Emma sucked hard, enjoying a moan herself at the feel of the nipple straining against her tongue.

Regina brought Emma up with a single finger under chin. Her lips, still tasting of the fine Argentinian grape, grazed breathlessly over Emma's. "Lift your hips," she instructed and kissed her deeply. "Please?" was mumbled with a shy cock of her head.

Once ample room presented the opportunity, Regina slipped her hand along the heaving, delicate figure and tickled minutely against the neatly trimmed hair. She smiled against Emma's mouth, immensely satisfied by the little lifestyle situated between the woman's legs. As her ministrations carried on, the wolfish smile opened to take in the tongue overzealous for her mouth. Regina trailed the backs of her fingers along Emma's folds. The slick need that met her touch had her long groan joining Emma's. She parted the smooth lips with her knuckle, dipping shallowly to tease. After the string of impatient whines Regina acquiesced. Wrist turning, two fingers plunged in reaching molten depths aplenty.

"F-uck," choked Emma. Overcome by the first wave of Regina, her hips jerked roughly forward.

"Mm," Regina hummed, nuzzling her lips over an agape and cursing mouth. Her thrusts kept in time with the bucking hips. "Is that good?"

"Yeah." The muscles in her lower back screamed for relief, but Emma wouldn't give it. She couldn't allow it when Regina felt so fucking good inside her. All she could do was allow her body to stretch for more. "Oh god," she moaned as fingers lunged for the deepest part of her. Her nails scrambled ruthlessly along Regina's sides.

Long, inflamed trails rose to the surface and Regina responded with a quickened plunge again and again into the woman's clenching sex. Emma bucked harder and faster to get the most out of these seemingly noble efforts. Her head fell into the neck devastated by her fanatic lips.

Regina turned her mouth so it panted harshly against the dainty curve of Emma's ear. "Fuck me like you did last night."

Emma's lips parted but before they could reply she felt the body under her turn and lunge for the bedside drawer once again. In her process to stop her, Emma noticed that Regina's eyes had gone wild and desperate. It wasn't necessarily an attraction she liked to see in her lovers. Regina's relentlessness had all but worn Emma down. Not this time, she swore to herself.

"Henry is at a sleepover," Regina pleaded. "There is no need for discretion."

Emma's lips thinned over clenched teeth. "And there's no need for me to do that to you."

"I thought you wanted it. You liked it," she insisted firmly. Her anger ratcheted but hardly reached the level of disappointment pressing on her chest. Everything she hoped for that night, all her clinging expectations and desperations took a plummet. Her devastation could be felt like no pain she could describe. "You loved it," she insisted. "You took pleasure in this," she pressed, much weaker this time as if her whole heart couldn't sustain it.

And Emma knew she spoke the truth. She did love it. She took immense pleasure in it. Like a dog in heat she went after it. There were times she couldn't even stop herself. And that's what made last night so different from the rest. That's why Emma had to do this now.

"No."

The springs under them creaked as Regina leaned forward. "What?" Her voice was so small she could barely hear it.

"I think," Emma's voice rasped and she winced against the scratching assault to her throat. If felt like swallowing shrapnel after a passion igniting kiss. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I think… I think this is over."

Regina looked crestfallen. "What?" she croaked, seeming to forget her loathing of unnecessary repetition.

Emma stared into the classy white bed comforter but not really seeing – or thinking for that matter. A while later she saw fit to move. Legs slipped shakily over the edge of the bed and tried their level best to support the rest of her.

"I should probably go."

It was said with a light tone of obviousness like there was no better reason for escaping Regina in her current state. She gathered up her clothes in a robotic fashion: one hand down, a bra clamped to her abdomen; the other hand down, a shirt painted to her chest… and on and on.

Regina's eyebrows as well as her speech rose in worry. "But why should you?"

"We'll talk later. I think we should talk. Let's do that sometime soon."

"You sound strange. Something is changing…" Regina's voice dragged off like a feather off a cliff. Only this particular feather wasn't so light and resilient to force. It didn't ride the wind so effortlessly as it plummeted to earth.

Hands adhering her clothes to her chest like they were a life preserver, Emma bent down to kiss the trembling lips. "Okay?"

Regina didn't grant her approval, but neither did she argue. The look smeared on Emma's face stayed too unreadable for her to dignify it with a response.