Emma had never really thought about it before, but now that she had thought about it, she realized kissing was dumb. You did it once with a girl—once!—and you ended up thinking about that poster of Agent Scully you had over your bed in elementary school, or all those slumber parties you had with your best friend in high school, or that girl you went down on in college.
Which, she'd resigned herself to being slightly gay a long time ago. But gay for Regina Mills? She'd always wanted someone who was smart and proper and slightly naughty, but did it also have to be someone that was capable of mass cursing? She could handle guyliner, but a supervillain was a bit much. If Emma forgot to DVR Pretty Little Liars, what would Regina do, set something on fire?
Unless Regina had changed, as evidenced by her making a pass at Emma, which Emma still couldn't get over. Maybe Emma could just tell her some of the truth, the parts that were easy to explain, and if Regina understood, they could move on from there. Yes. That sounded good. Emma picked up her phone and dialed Regina. The fact that she didn't have the ex-mayor on speed dial was mitigated by how she'd memorized Regina's number.
"Emma?" Regina answered, in a voice that sounded like this call would cost Emma 3.95 a minute. "I didn't expect you to call so soon. I'm still in my underthings."
Would you stop? "Well, ya know, never go to sleep on an argument." Would I stop? "Yeah, so, I think we left some issues unresolved and we should—resolve them. Not over the phone. Face to face."
"I understand. So I'll see you later?"
"Absolutely. Nice talking to you!" Emma hung up before her palms got too sweaty. How could a lesbian relationship be so hard, you moved in together on the second date! The girl in college had never given Emma any problems.
Despite the closure, Emma couldn't sleep. That teensy conversation with Regina had filled Emma's head with scenarios. What if she came over tomorrow and Regina was wearing a leather fun-time outfit? Or a fut coat and nothing else? Or—
There was a knock at the door. Emma shook off the thought of Regina dressed as a cat to go answer it. It was Regina. Wearing a trenchcoat, not a fursuit.
"Regina!" Emma exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
Regina flipped her hair alluringly. "I do still recall how to call a taxi. Although my driver seemed to have horns. I don't think they should be allowed to wear something so unprofessional on duty. May I come in?"
"Of course, anytime—I mean, right now."
Regina breezed past Emma, her long legs sneaking out of her coat's hem like the tide in deep water.
"I was kinda thinking we could have that talk tomorrow," Emma said, "at your place."
"We still can." Regina untied the belt of her coat. "I didn't come here to talk." She opened her coat and shucked it off in the same motion. Nothing, not even lingerie, underneath. That just wasn't fair.
The funny thing was, Emma didn't have any trouble holding Regina's gaze. "If you knew what I'd done, you wouldn't be here."
"If I cared, I wouldn't be here. Whatever happened between us, it must've been as much my fault as yours. If you can forgive me, I can forgive you. Let me show you how much I care for you. You can tell me your secret afterward, and you'll see that it changes nothing. Besides, I literally can't remember the last time I had sex. Are you really going to let that stand?"
Emma just shook her head. Regina wasted no time, her hands flying to Emma's face like she was going to choke her, but instead flattening along Emma's jawline. She was held steady as Regina approached, smiling apologetically for her own forcefulness; apprehensive again, Regina just licked Emma's mouth instead of kissing her. She listened to the sharp intake of Emma's breath.
"You'll say it later," Regina predicted. "How much you want me. I'll make you say it."
Emma would've said it now if she could speak. Hell, she knew a little sign language, she would've signed it if she could move.
Stopping for a moment to just hold Emma in her hands, her thumbs coyly running along Emma's face, Regina broke into a smile. Larger this time. With a gentle forcefulness that seemed completely Regina, she lowered Emma to her naked breasts. Emma couldn't even open her mouth. She let herself be nuzzled against Regina's chest, the warm skin and its overwhelming softness filling her world.
And then, like a storm cloud suddenly breaking, Emma felt herself respond in kind to Regina's aggression. She wasn't in awe of Regina's beauty anymore—she wanted to claim it. She wrapped her arms around Regina's midsection, bit down on Regina's breast like a starving vampire. The two fell against the wall, Regina on her back, Emma practically mounting her. She moved up, trying to take the kiss Regina had denied her earlier, but Regina had a death-grip on her hair. Breathing hard and practically vibrating with excitement, Regina ushered her back down to her other breast. Her soft, unmarked breast.
"Emma," Regina moaned softly, as her hard pink nipple was utterly consumed by the sheriff's affection.
Emma didn't know how long she stayed there, treating Regina's body as her own personal playground, licking, biting, sucking, her hands never straying from the smooth length of Regina's back, never giving her the chance to remove her succulent cleavage from Emma's mouth. But long minutes, or maybe hours, later—
"Emma. Emma." Emma felt Regina's hands on her face once more, insistently forcing her head back to meet Regina's eyes. And, oh, her eyes. They weren't glazed with lust. They were sharpened by it, whetted, hungry for it. Regina looked like a woman in the middle of a rainstorm after a drought; Emma a tall glass full of cool water, needing to be used, to quench.
"It's time," Regina said, now stroking Emma's hair with a surprising tenderness. She pulled Emma up to her feet.
"Time?" Emma asked.
"No more foreplay. I think it's time we make our way to the bedroom."
"That was foreplay?"
"Yes." Regina suddenly cupped Emma's crotch. Emma hadn't realized how wet she was until she felt Regina's fingers, trying to get in but restrained by the denim of Emma's pants, the friction of the attempt lighting her up like a match in gasoline.
"I want you," Emma said. "I want you so fucking bad."
"Yes," Regina said again. "And now," she predicted, "you're going to show me."