AN: I'm really hoping to update in a timely manner, but no promises. I'm working on two other fics at the moment, because I enjoy overwhelming myself so that I'm set up for failure :) But really, I hope to keep on writing, so it shouldn't take too long. Leave a review and let me know what you think!


Sometimes we can stop. Sometimes, I don't call her, and she doesn't leave her house for days, almost weeks. It's a separation that tears us apart, but we pretend that it doesn't. I pretend to be happy with Charming and his soft kisses and gentle words, and she has nothing but hateful snark to give me if we see each other in passing.

As if some unspoken sign that we were both finished and over with all the things of our past.

Sometimes we can stop, but we're never done.

Because eventually the day comes when I wake up feeling drained and angry, snipping at my family and drinking too much coffee. The day starts off awful and I know what it means, what I want. What I need.

Her. Always her.

Then it starts all over again.

And on those days, when I call she always answers. On those days if we see each other in passing, there's no sarcastic comments. There's only her dark and piecing stare into me, one that I can see from blocks away. She's quiet on those days, and so am I. Silent looks and nonverbal communication. That's how we always end up in these dangerous kinds of situations.

Like now, with my back pressed against the bookshelves in the back of the library, her body pressed into mine, the back of her thigh pushed into the back of her hand as it moves deeper under my skirt. I wore it for her, thinking of her as I picked out the black mini, and thigh high brown boots. It's not a usual look for my wardrobe, but I didn't feel like Mary Margaret this morning. When I woke in a sweat, from dreams of her, soaked between my thighs and aching, I felt like Regina's property. Lost and wanting to find its way back home.

At this moment, home feels like her crushing kiss that's filled with desperation and release all at the same time.

She likes the skirt, that much was made obvious when she first saw me in it, as she was leaving the diner not fifteen minutes ago. I was waiting for her a half a block down the road, pretending to read the paper near the floral shop, but watching her eyes catch on mine. The look was there, and so was about a hundred safer ways for us to do this, but damn this stubborn woman for not carrying her cell phone.

When she walked over to me, she stopped briefly, looking me up and down and taking her time to run the gaze up my legs. The muscles in my thighs clenched tight at her stare, and Regina noticed the movement. Then she was gone, walking away and past her parked car, causing me to follow at a leisurely distance. It was noon on a weekday, so I was grateful for the empty streets and sidewalks. I don't want to find out how little it would matter either way, with how desperate I was for her right then.

And desperate still, not caring when she led me into the empty library, Belle busy on her lunch break.

My body was so ready for her fingers as they pushed aside my underwear, and Regina made sure to tell me that much, before pushing me against the shelves. Now, her lips settle on a spot behind my ear, one she knows drives me crazy—because she drives me crazy, sucking so gently, not enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for a moan to break out of my lungs. At the sound, my eyes open when I feel Regina's palm move to cover my mouth, but the hand between my legs never slows.

"Really, dear. Is it too much to ask that you stay quiet while I fuck you?" A quick curve of her fingers, has me whimpering into her hand as my body tenses, so close, and so quiet while she whispers in my ear. It might not even be real words, because my ears are ringing from the pleasure she's pulling out of me.

"Such a compromising position that anyone could find you in,"

It never feels like this, not with anyone else, and I don't know if it's her experience, or simply my experience with her, but it's blinding the way this need for her hits me. Like a drowning flame that wraps around my body, and it takes her face, her smirk and sneer as I beg her for something that never satisfies—not in any kind of lasting way. But I need it, like addiction, like an ache. And that word—that ache—that's accurate. I ache for her in all the wrong ways, in all the ways that never satisfy.

"Is it that good?" Her palm on my hand serves of a reminder for silence, and it's a good thing too, because sounds are threatening their way through my body. Begging and moaning, and I don't like being quiet, I don't like hiding and sneaking around, doing these dangerous things that hold so many consequences to it. I don't like the way it turns me on, having her need me to want her so desperately, that even fear of losing everything—for both of us—isn't enough to get her to stop.

"Do you want it so badly?" Regina's movements gain a rhythm that has a clear intention, my body starts shaking at the feeling, so quick—so close—my eyes shut tight and her hand against my mouth shifts enough to gently push a finger between my lips, and I accept the gift eagerly.

Then she's humming in my ear, and I bite at her finger without meaning to as I come hard against her hand, but she doesn't pull away. She just keeping humming and trailing wet kisses along my neck. The intimacy last for a few moments, because in the time right after, as my body shakes and shudders, she's never cruel. Regina just allows me all the attention I need and want from her, but only for a few moments. Then, it's always ripped away as if just to tease me with what it must be like if we were different people. So, perhaps it is meant to be cruel.

Once my body goes slack against the books behind me, my tongue moves gently along her middle finger, to sooth the sting of my teeth before she's pulling it out of my mouth.

"You're lucky I'm not still mayor, dear." Regina whispers softly, lingering longer than she needs to be, and I revel in it, brushing my cheek against her lips and smiling softly. "I would make it a crime for you to wear that skirt."

"I would spend much more time behind bars." Then I chuckle lightly, causing her to pull away and look at me curiously. "Or tied to them." My face turns red at my own thought, as I smile at her and think about last week and how she tied me to her bed, and it was like torture. Beautiful torture.

I won't think so in a few more minutes. The guilt will start then, her pushing me away and showing me all over again how foolish I am—how weak we both are for doing this all over again. And in a few days, we'll do it all over again.

Her eyes flash dark along with her growing smirk towards my words, but quick enough it's replaced with stone and ice, as she pulls away and starts adjusting her blouse and brushing out the wrinkles in her blazer.

"Why didn't you do this before?" I ask, just for something to ask, just to make this last a little while longer. Just to let the afterglow of my pleasure fade completely before being sent away into the cold. Regina's eyes narrow at me, confused. "When we were cursed? Twenty-eight years…" My voice faded, because it did sound like a lifetime, like an internal purgatory. It wasn't like that for us though, it was like a blink of an eye. I remember everything that happened, but it was easy because every day was the same day, so twenty-eight years felt like a single day. I wonder if it felt the same for her.

Regina raises her hand once more, trailing her thumb long the bottom of my lip.

"Mary Margaret had more self-respect." She replies with almost no sign of bite to her voice at all, only humor and a wink. It surprises me like nothing else. I figure my attempt at conversation would be rebuffed and trampled on, just like every time before, but there's no tense anger between us, not for the first time in so long. My smile grows slightly, and I lean in to kiss her, due to my innate instinct to always push my luck, and as soon as I do, we both hear the chime of the library door sound, indicating someone entering.

Then she's gone, without a second glance, ducking away and out of the stacks, giving a tense and polite greeting to Belle that isn't returned and I hear the door chime again at her exit.