Dedicated to Cls2011 whose love for OQ and passion for this fic always make me smile. Special thanks to her and the amazing miscreant rose for their unending support and endless read-throughs.

To all of my readers-you are the best. Thank you so much for embracing this story as you have! Your lovely notes and reviews never fail to put a huge smile on my face.

I don't own OuaT. And a friendly reminder: this fic is rated M for a reason. You have been warned. ;)

She is about to come out of her skin.

His mouth is on her neck again, tasting and nipping, his beard rousing her in ways she never anticipated, its coarseness triggering electric shocks straight to her pulse points with the speed of a blink. The mattress moves rhythmically under them, it's high-pitched squeak both humorous and unexpectedly erotic.

"You taste incredible, you know."

Her breath hitches at his words, and she nearly laughs at such musings, knowing no one has ever before said anything at all like that to her. God—the thought makes her feel incredibly sexy and bold, and her fingers run through the course waves of his hair, wondering just how much of her he will taste before the night is over.

"Do I?" she questions breathlessly, her eyes lolling back in their sockets as he rocks against her once and then twice. "I wouldn't know."

He laughs against her, peppering hot kisses around her ear.

"God, yes," he returns, moving his attentions to her clavicle, and she feels a dimple prick against her skin as her moan presses her into him. "Spicy and delicate, sweet and savory. You make me hungry for more."

Her core shivers and pulses as her heart clenches in a manner she's not ready to entertain.

"I'm ravenous, actually," he continues, moving his mouth along her bra strap, his tongue flicking under the material and nearly pushing her out of her own mind. "Of course, the selection is rather limited at the moment."

She freezes, pushing him off of her only to see the bastard grinning back at her like an idiot. He is baiting her and enjoying every second of it, and her eyes narrow dangerously in his direction.

"Options are unnecessary when perfection lies right in front of you," she half-hisses, her pulse racing ahead of her at the blatant hunger in his eyes. "So I suggest you wipe the drool off your chin and show some manners if you want to sample this buffet."

He bites his lower lip mischievously, and she can't resist rubbing a finger along his beard when he looks at her like that. He moans at the contact, the sound of it targeting her core with precision, and he draws the finger into his mouth, sucking on it until she begins to rock under him, seeking needed friction, bucking as his teeth nip just above her knuckle and trace a torturous path to its tip.

"Forget sampling," he hums, his mouth giving up her finger and kissing its way across her chest until he hovers just between her breasts. "I intend to feast."

She clutches his face between her hands, drawing his gaze directly into her own.

"In that case, I hope you don't have a weak stomach because I don't intend to hold back, either."

He chuckles at her audacity, and she now burns on two ends.

"What's so funny, Marshall?" she challenges, taking him off-guard as she flips herself on top of him, pinning his arms above his head. "Cat got your tongue?"

His chest is heaving in time with hers, ragged breaths caressing and sparring, and she sees that her breast are close to spilling out of her bra.

Good. She'll enjoy tormenting him for a change.

"You tell me," he hums, raising his head just slightly "Feline or canine?"

She twirls her hips just over his groin, seeing the shadow of his expansion pushing through his undone pants.

"Dragon," she teases, leaning her cleavage down until it is just out of reach of his mouth, reveling in the flare of his nostrils at her maneuver. "And you know what they say about playing with fire."

Something animalistic flashes in his eyes as lightening cracks just outside their window. Then she is on her back again, his hands rubbing her arms, her stomach, his mouth dangerously close as fingers move upwards to trace the outline of what was just dangling above his face.

"Griffon," he breathes roughly, claiming her lips with force, pressing his tongue into hers, her hips rising and bucking recklessly in response. "And I've never been afraid of the heat."

His beard edges against the swell or her breasts, and her core now pants for his hardness. Her nails dig into his shoulder, making him hiss and kiss her all the harder, making her burn until she thinks she will combust.

God, she needs him out of his pants, she thinks wordlessly, half-thrilled by her wantonness, half-amazed by it.

"So you say now," she hums, biting the tip of his ear, prodded on by the low growl creeping out of his chest. "Just wait until I turn up the temperature."

She flips him over yet again, and he laughs smoothly, grabbing her ass until she presses down on to him even harder.

"You're a dangerous woman, aren't you?" he breathes into her neck, nipping the flesh there just enough to make her moan and grind into him further.

"Are you just figuring that out?" she muses, raising her brows at him incredulously.

"I just don't like to make snap judgments," he hums, obviously turned on by her prowess. "I like to take my time, explore all areas thoroughly."

Her eyes seal shut of their own accord as his fingers wrap around her back to seek the clasp of her bra. "Front," she whispers, hovering over his mouth, unable to stifle a giggle when he curses under his breath.

"Are you sure it comes off?" he questions, twisting and maneuvering his hands in an attempt to release it, finally dropping his hands out of exasperation. "Or is it an enchanted undergarment of some sort?"

"Here," she interjects. "What kind of Federal Marshall can't even unfasten a bra?"

"A sexually frustrated one," he retorts, pulling an unbidden and rather loud snort of laughter out of her. "Now that was sexier than hell."

"Watch it," she warns with a pointed brow. "It's not nice to tease a woman you're trying to have sex with. She might just change her mind."

"Who said I was teasing?" he questions, trailing hot fingers down the slopes of her stomach in a movement that half-tickles and fully arouses. "I don't want a woman I'm going to make love to feel like she has to hold anything back."

His words hit her like a bolt, unleashing fire and insecurities in a breathless race for dominance.

"Is that what this is?" she whispers, uncertain whether or not she is ready for the answer. "Making love?"

Her question hangs on a clap of thunder, the creak of metal in the distance unheard by either of them. He presses himself up on his elbows, his face brilliantly illuminated by another flash of lightening as he stares at her with an expression of such tenderness and confusion she doesn't know how to respond.

"I'm sorry if that startled you," he begins, biting his lower lip. "I just don't know just how capable I am of merely having sex without some sort of emotional connection. Not my style."

Her throat tightens in time with her nipples, her heart swelling with every deafening beat.

"What is your style, then?" she questions as he sits up. They are eye to eye, breath to breath, and he strokes the curved line of her neck, luring her closer with every touch.

"You."

An unseen magnet pulls her into him, and she kisses him with a fury that matches the storm around them, arms and limbs tangling into a ball of unending motion. She knows this is illogical, insane, and too many other adjectives she'd rather not think about at the moment.

But it feels right. And so damn good.

She pulls back far enough to undo the stubborn clasp herself, watching as his eyes devour every inch of her. A shiver rocks her torso, spreading everywhere in a flash as her bra falls open and her breasts are exposed.

"God, Regina," he manages, the look on his face almost too much for her. "You're gorgeous."

She allows the straps to slide off her shoulders and down her arms, feeling an unexpected shyness at his blatant admiration. God—she's too old to feel this way, isn't she? But she almost feels young again when his fingers trace a small circle around her areola, like a woman finding a piece of herself she hadn't realized was missing.

Strong arms enfold her, wrapping her in a warmth that drugs any sense not under his command, his lips lavishing her neck with adoration as his hands continue to work her breast into a slow frenzy. She kisses him back on his shoulder, his ear lobe, wherever her mouth can locate skin, nudging a manicured nail into the waistband of his pants meaningfully.

He suddenly moves from her, standing with a purpose and shoving his pants down to the floor in haste.

"Mmmm," she murmurs appreciatively, his desire for her even more obvious when held back only by his boxers. She smiles up at him, his body silhouetted by the storm's fury, wondering if he would look just as magical if the lights were on.

Yes. She's fairly certain that he would.

He kneels back on the bed, both of them nearly naked now, touching with a new appreciation and surprising reserve. She swallows audibly, wondering at the pesky butterflies in her stomach and their terrible timing. Of course, it would be her luck to have last minute misgivings when a man hotter than hell is sitting practically nude in front of her.

"I haven't been this naked with a woman in a long time."

Damn it, he is getting to her again, but her hand reaches for his face of its own accord, stroking, comforting, understanding the true depth of feeling behind his admission as thunder shakes the room. She refuses to give into second thoughts. Not now. Not when he is so close.

"So you are nervous?" she questions, unable to stop herself from touching him, thrilled by the fact that he seems to feel the same way as his palms smooth their way up and down her arms in a promising prelude.

"Aren't you? Your expression tells me you're either nervous or about to be sick, and I'm really hoping it's the first option."

His eyes won't allow her to lie, and she grins back at him, something loosening inside of her at the concern in his eyes.

"I am," she confesses, dropping her gaze to his lap. Maybe that wasn't the best idea. He looks as if he's about to burst out of his boxers. "It's silly, I know."

His mouth touches hers unexpectedly, slow and gentle, a kiss of first love and deep connection, one that speeds through her veins drowning out anything but the feel of him against her as he pulls her close.

"Not silly," he breathes into her mouth, a primal ache expanding exponentially inside of her. "Normal. Perfectly normal."

She pulls him back on top of her as they fall back on the bed, loving the weight of him solid and hard, needing more. Bashfulness is tossed aside with the same determination as their underwear, and she is shocked to realize how natural it feels to be with him like this. Nothing between them. Nothing held back.

"You feel good," she murmurs into his hair as his mouth works its way down her neck with a fastidiousness that makes her squirm.

"And you're beyond words," he whispers as his beard edges the swell of her breasts, tickling and arousing in equal measure. "Stunning in every way."

His mouth encases her nipple, and she cries out, all sound lost in the gale outside their passionate cocoon as her hands fist in his hair in an unspoken plea to continue. His teeth then nip her gently, and she wraps one leg around his backside as her back rises off the mattress.

"Like I said earlier," he hums, his mouth hovering over where she wants him to suck. "You're a delicacy."

Lips then resume their tasting, pulling her nipple tautly into his mouth, eliciting a groan from her that seems to spur him on.

"Am I?" she manages, biting her lower lip as his fingers begin to tease her other breast, the combination of squeezing and sucking sending any conscious thought airborne as her thighs melt into molten lava.

"Without question," he returns, pausing his mouth's ministrations long enough to gaze into her eyes. "And we're just on the first course."

He goes for her other breast, and words dessert her, leaving her floundering in a fog of sensation she doesn't want to lift anytime soon. He licks her with an intensity that makes her yelp, and when he bites down gently, she throws her head back into the sheets, shoving her hips into his, reaching for what lies hot and pulsing between them.

"We may need to skip a course or two," she demands, her tone low and throaty. "I'm suddenly famished."

A growl rolls up from his chest as she clasps on to him firmly, and his forehead comes to rest on her chest as his breath thickens. Sweat begins to mingle with sweat, and his mouth moves upwards to reconnect with hers, devouring her completely.

"Never," he breathes as his fingers skim over her hip, swirling and teasing until they reach the apex of her thighs. He pauses to look back at her as noses touch and souls converge. "Too much to savor at this banquet."

He caresses her course patch of hair, and her eyes squeeze shut in anticipation, her breath hitching over and over as this game of sweet torture continues. She feels him harden in her grip as his touch glides inward, first contact making her come off the mattress, her hold on him floundering as his pressure between her legs increases.

She knows she won't last long as tight and turned on as she already is, year after year of dry seasons giving way to the rains of fury and need. Her face must reflect this, for he pauses again, kissing her gently on the lips.

"You're close, aren't you?"

She nods, missing his hand, her skin tingling all over and puckering at the wicked smile on his face. Then his face moves down, descending past her naval as he moves her knees further apart, and she is bucking before he touches her, her head already thrashing in acknowledgement of what is to come.

Then his mouth makes contact. And she comes off the bed.

She can't think, cannot process, drowning a sea of such intense pleasure it's almost too much. His fingers find her breasts again, tugging her closer and closer towards an abyss of white light, and then she is falling, writhing, gripping his shoulders, crying out his name as he prolongs her orgasm, drinking her in fully, stroking her skin with the delicacy of silk.

"God," she pants, rocking back to earth upon wave after lapping wave, the bed feeling somehow foreign against her body.

"No," he breathes huskily, his kiss tasting of earth and herself, his body gloriously hard. "Just me."

"Come here, just you."

She grins as she reaches for him again, meeting no resistance this time as she works him with her hands. He looks so vulnerable, like putty in her hands, and a surge of power shoots through her, enjoying the tight quivering of the lines on his forehead that matches the rhythm of her caress.

"Ready for the main course?" she inquires, small aftershocks still rippling across veins and muscle at odd intervals.

"I don't think I can wait much longer," he admits hoarsely, his skin now hot under her hands. "Your touch is magical."

The scent of male arousal washes over flesh and bone, making her breasts ache and her nerves spike to attention.

"You asked for dark magic," she breathes, flipping them over so she is situated on top of him. "And I always honor my promises."

He chuckles as much as he can in the state he is in, and she relishes giving him such pleasure even as she aches for completion for herself.

"I think you're dark and light magic combined," he manages before his eyes loll back in their sockets, a low moan reverberating up her thighs. "Much too powerful to be the master of just one."

She nearly falters again, his words reaching in past where they logically should, and she realizes that she is in fact about to make love to him, not simply let him into her body. God—she hadn't anticipated this.

She hadn't anticipated him.

He reaches blindly for the condoms, laid earlier on the bedside table, fumbling with a wrapper as she watches his face.

"Here," she interrupts, taking the package from trembling hands. "Let me."

She's not sure just why she wants to do this, but it thrills her to slip it on him, knowing there is now nothing holding them back. He then reaches for her hips, settling her on top of him, watching her intently for any signs of second thoughts.

There aren't any. Not anymore. And she slides down around him slowly, allowing him to fill her in more ways than one, reveling at the sensation of wholeness that takes her breath in a second.

She'd nearly forgotten how it felt to be this connected to someone, to share flesh and life, to spin a web of delight and pleasure so intimate it goes beyond what is logical. It had been hers once, a lifetime ago, the culmination of young love and heart-felt promises that went up in smoke and changed the course of her life forever.

But this is different, more mature, less rushed. Even as a steady tempo takes form, even as she rides him in the throes of a storm, she knows this is more than just sex. This is something beyond both of them, something that cannot be but is, something she wants too badly for her own peace of mind.

Something that will take a piece of herself with him when he leaves her, as he most certainly will.

She stops moving for a moment, but it is enough, and he rolls her over gently, picking up the lead where she left off, kissing her hard on the mouth, bringing her back to him in thundering swells and breathless cries. His mouth them moves back to her breast, and she is lost in all of who he is. God, she barely knows his name, but it flies off her tongue with the texture of coarse velvet as he repeatedly hits a spot that's driving her mad.

He moves in deeper, painting her flesh with his tongue, exploring her landscapes and marking new trails over the hills and valleys of her body. She can't breathe, yet air fills her lungs, her mind spinning, her body screaming as walls begin to clench and tingle, just on the verge of something glorious.

Then he moves once more, twice, three times, and it hits her soundly, her body crashing into his as ripple after ripple of ecstasy reels over and around her. It just keeps going and going, making her moan, making her grip him tightly, and he kisses her again, absorbing her orgasm into his mouth as her core continues to pulse wildly around him. Lights dance behind eyes sealed shut, her head moving now of its own accord as his mouth seeks her neck, her lips forming words that have no meaning, eliciting sounds with no set form.

A groan tickles her rib cage just as her limbs begin to settle, and his pace becomes erratic. She knows he is close, the look of concentration on his features bordering on one of pain. She grabs his buttocks, squeezing with fingers and nails, and he cries out, pumping harder and harder until a new sound is pulled from his body.

Then it's her name in the air, filling the room, hitting her squarely in the heart as she realizes it is truly she he is making love to, not the ghost of his wife or a wisp of fantasy from years of loneliness and grief. He knows her. God—he knows her.

His next cry rivals the thunders as he lets loose inside of her, shaking with effort and passion, his body trembling in the aftermath as his limbs actually falter and his weight falls atop her own. They do nothing but breathe for a time, soaking in what has just taken place, wondering what to say as he presses himself back up on his elbows and looks at her as no one but Daniel ever has.

Words are shoved aside in favor of a kiss, one lengthy and soft, still warm from spent passion and salty from bodies shared. They remain forehead to forehead, unwilling to lose this connection even if they don't yet know what it is. He then rolls to his side slowly, and she mourns the emptiness that hits her as he withdraws and throws away the condom, wondering what will happen now that so much tension has been spent.

Will he get dressed? Sleep in the other bed? Light a cigarette or try to explain what just happened between them?

But he crawls back under the sheets beside her, gathering her into his arms as if she is the most precious thing in the world to him. Hands rediscover faces as limbs settle and fit around each other, the winds howl now somehow calming after what has taken place in this bed. His mouth feathers across her forehead as her cheek comes to rest on his chest, his hair a comforting pillow, his scent now familiar and warm. And in the midst of the hurricane that has forced them together in a wild and unexpected ride, they cling to each other and sleep.