Title: Shiver

Author: misscanteloupe

Rating: M

Summary: It's been several months since Emma sacrificed her life so Regina can have her happy ending, and weeks since the effects of being the Dark One were reversed. Regina's still not happy. Emma wants to know why the hell not. Post 4B. Swan Queen

A/N: PLEASE READ - This story isn't my usual style. It's in second person and more of an experiment, but for those of you who aren't into the style of writing, which I know many of you aren't, hopefully you'll give it a shot anyway. It was either this or first person, and I prefer second anyway. It's loosely based off a story I once read when I was in the Glee fandom. It's been years though so I can't even remember whether it was Brittana or Faberry

As the summary says, this takes place after the events of what happened in the finale were reversed. So Emma was the dark one. She isn't anymore, but there are mentions of it throughout.

I dunno yet if I'll be continuing this. Maybe with another chapter or two in the future, but as it stands it's currently a oneshot. Thanks for reading!

You feel the nerves brim over your stomach the longer you wait. It's deathly quiet outside the mansion, and even though you know it's your week with Henry and he's probably snoring away in his little cot back at the apartment, you can't help but wish he were there with you. If anyone can stop an angry Regina from fireballing you to a crisp, it'd be him.

Finally you hear footsteps approach the foyer and you shove your hands in your back pockets. Your knuckles are still a little sore from the last hour. But you suck it up, watch as the door opens to reveal Regina.

Her face is devoid of makeup and she has this gray silk robe wrapped around her body. It looks soft. You stare at it for a moment and realize you kind of want to reach out and touch it.

"Emma?"

She looks surprised to see you there, which, yeah. Anyone would be when the Savior-turned Dark One (and then turned back) is standing outside their house this late at night. You're not really sure why you're here in the first place.

"Do you realize what time it is? What the hell are you even doing standing outside my door?" And then, like clockwork, "Is Henry okay? Is he -"

"He's fine. Sleeping like a rock, probably." You shrug.

"Then why -"

"I punched Robin Hood in the face."

You can tell she doesn't expect that. It's funny how well you can read her facial expressions after all these years. Her lips part in silent bemusement, her left brow arching ever so slightly in shock. But really it's all in the eyes.

Her eyes, which usually contain a mixture of irritation and affection for you these days, narrow and glint with the sort of exasperation you don't know whether to find funny or not.

"May I ask why?" she says slowly.

She's not too angry. This is good. Your knuckles tingle in response as you shrug again.

"It felt good."

"And your first response is to, what? Pay me a visit at one in the morning rather than wait for a more appropriate time?" she deadpans. "Or maybe drown your sorrows with the pirate?"

"I broke up with Killian."

Two things happen after that. One, the weight of tonight's events seems to take a hold of you and suddenly you feel your chest tighten. Like your lungs are collapsing in your ribcage and you can't breathe and the backs of your eyes are starting to sting from the tears you've managed to hold back. At least until now.

Second, Regina's fingertips are on your forearm. She had stepped onto the porch at some point to gauge the situation, except now she has your hand pulled back in hers and she's studying the torn skin around the tops of your knuckles with a frown.

Somehow she's offering you comfort without meaning to.

"Come," she says kindlyly. She has her hand on your forearm again, only she's guiding you into her home this time. "We should get that cleaned up."

You don't know what else to do but follow. It's like you play a part in a much bigger picture, like fate once again interfered and brought you here. Like it always does. But you also know that with Regina, there is such a thing as beating fate. You have choices and more often than not those choices always lead you back to her.

She guides you into the kitchen, where she leaves you for several seconds to get the first aid kit from the guest bathroom. You wonder why there's a need for one when she can always use magic to heal you, but you decide not to question it.

"Sit," she commands gently. She takes out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton swabs before looking at you expectantly. "This is going to sting a little."

You roll your eyes. "I'm not a baby, Regina. I think I can handle -"

You don't get to finish when she has the cloth pressed down on your wounds, the sting of the alcohol almost overwhelming and you let out a sharp hiss instead.

"You could've warned me some other way," you grit out.

"And where would be the fun in that?" she says. There's a slight tilt to her lip, as though there's a smirk there that she's trying to hold back. But otherwise she doesn't joke about it any further and continues to tenderly tend to your cuts.

You stay quiet for the most part. The silence is nice, you think, after spending a good chunk of your night dealing with drunken morons at the bar. But what's really nice is the feeling of Regina's hand against your own. Her palm is warm and soft pressed against yours, and her thumb is rubbing gentle circles around the skin just below your knuckles. You don't think she knows she's doing it. It's the kind of instinctive affection she doesn't offer anyone but Henry, and it makes your skin hum and burn with every touch.

"Want to talk about what happened?" Regina asks after several moments. She's finished dabbing the wounds when her gaze flicks up to meet yours.

"Not really."

"So you physically assaulted my soulmate for no reason?" she questions. The word soulmate burns into your skull like a raging fire. It makes you nauseous. "I'm going to guess the same goes for Hook."

"I broke up with Killian because I couldn't be what he wanted," you say somewhat defensively. "He knew that, I knew that. The world knew that. It was only a matter of time."

She hums. "And Robin?"

You want to grouch about all these questions. You want to stand up and leave and pretend none of this ever happened, but you can't. Because you're already here and Regina can see right through you. Like always. She deserves to know.

"He doesn't make you happy," you grumble in a strained tone.

Regina, who has been carefully wrapping your knuckles, pauses her movements before peering up at you in surprise.

"What?"

"He went to visit Zelena again," you tell her, taking a deep breath. "I heard it from Leroy. And after everything that happened - he doesn't even try with you like he does with her. And then I saw him at the Rabbit Hole and I just... He's supposed to be your happy ending! Instead you guys are taking a break and he's not even trying. He doesn't make you happy."

She lets go of your hand then, studies you like she doesn't really know what to say and sighs.

"Emma," she begins slowly. "Emma, it's okay -"

"No it's not," you interrupt, and you feel your eyes stinging again. You hate yourself for choosing this moment to cry. "You don't get it, do you? I gave up everything so you can have your happy ending. I sacrificed my soul and everything my parents worked for - lied for - to become the Dark One so you can have that chance. He's supposed to be it for you."

She's pinning you down with her gaze, staring at you with her brown, brown eyes and you can't handle it. Not the sympathy reflected within her stare or the everlasting gratitude that never disappears these days, even when the effects of the dagger were repelled by Merlin's powers weeks ago.

So you stand up, clenching your fists.

"I don't regret it," you grit out, huffing out a breath. "I'd do it a thousand times over if it meant you'd get your happiness. I'd break my hand against his face just for the hell of it, too."

You don't expect the small laugh that comes out of Regina's mouth then. It's gentle and raspy and not at all like the mocking sort of laugh you'd expect in this situation. You're still alive, after all. And Regina doesn't seem nearly as pissed as you'd anticipated the moment your fist connected with Robin Hood's jawline because you couldn't control your temper.

Sometimes you can't help but wonder if you still have a little bit of the darkness inside you.

"What's so funny?"

"You," she responds nonchalantly and takes a few steps forward so she's looking you in the eye again. "All of this."

"So... you're not mad?" you ask.

"If you're asking if I'm angry that you punched Robin and threatened to do so again, then no. I can't say that I am," Regina surmises thoughtfully. "He had it coming for a while. Though frankly I sooner expected it from my sister."

"You're..." you trail off in a moment of confusion. "What?"

"How many times do I have to explain myself before I begin to sound like your parents?" she says wryly, but there's a hint of a smile gracing her lips when she turns to you expectantly. "Robin isn't my happy ending, Miss Swan. He might be a part of it, as is Henry. But I don't need to be with a man to be happy."

"Funny. You said something similar right before I tried to get you to go after him. And, you know, before I became evil."

"Yes, well." She clears her throat, suddenly looking nervous as she struggles with her next words. "Emma, I -"

"Don't," you stop her before she can go on. "If you're going to try to thank me again for what I did, then don't. That's the last thing I want right now."

"Then what do you want?" she asks. "A hug?"

A wave of nausea settles in your stomach and you clench your teeth, hard, because you're almost certain the offer was meant to be mocking and you don't want to let on how much it hurt. Sure, you're not much for physical contact. Especially nowadays when the any sort of hug from your parents or Killian gets you squeamish. A hug from Regina doesn't sound all that unappealing.

But when you look up, there isn't a single trace of mockery in Regina's expression. She's very serious, and suddenly you realize you don't want to continue living your life with this one step forward, two steps back routine you have going anymore. You want to rise up to the challenge.

"And if I do?"

It's exhilarating, watching the shift in Regina's demeanor. There's that arch in her brow that you really like. You don't know why, and you don't care why either. But then it turns into this look of determination and she's holding out her hand, waiting for you to take it.

"Come here, then."

This time it's your turn to visibly express your surprise. You stare down at the hand, wondering if this is a sign or gesture that determines the level of trust between you two. You wouldn't hesitate in any other circumstance. You'd trust Regina with your life.

But this is a whole new level of trust you're not sure you're willing to take.

You figure you don't have to when Regina decides for you. She clasps your hand around yours and pulls you closer. Her palm is still smooth against your skin, like velvet and silken sheets and you're momentarily distracted by the tingles running up your arm to notice she had closed the remaining distance. All too soon her snug body presses into your own, arms encased around your neck and you're too stunned to do anything but stiffen.

She seems to sense this. She hesitates and begins to pull back. And it's like pure instinct the way your arms immediately fall over her waist and pull her tighter against you.

Her breath hitches from the quick movement, her warm breath ghosting past your ear. That's when you realize that you like this. You really, really like this and it's nothing like the suffocating hugs your parents or Killian give you.

With Killian it had always been a sense of necessity. You tried to keep him happy as often as you could - with moments of affection here and there. You always welcomed his hugs with open arms, but they were rigid. Hard. Stifling in ways you didn't know until it was too late. Until you got a taste of what it's like to live your life in darkness and miss the things you had when you were light.

Things like Henry and your parents. Things that didn't include Killian.

But do include Regina.

But hugging Regina is as easy as breathing, as cliche as that sounds. It's like dunking your head into a pool of water after living in the desert for fifty years. You never want to leave.

You notice her body rests perfectly against you. Without her heels on she's only about half an inch shorter than you, but it's the kind of height combination that works.

Your hands are still sitting at her waist, fingertips pressing closer to her hips and you move them upward, gliding them up the silky expanse of her back. Until you're lightly clawing at the fabric and somehow holding her closer. And you close your eyes, taking in the faint smell of perfume and clean linen. You don't even think about it when you nestle your face into the curve of her neck until she quivers against you.

It's a jolting motion that you don't really take into account because she hasn't pushed you away yet. So you decide to test the limit just a little and nuzzle your nose into her neck, taking a deep breath.

What the hell are you doing, Swan?

You can feel her pulse against your lips, thumping rapidly and matching the rate of your own heart pounding in your ribcage.

You don't stop to think - because Regina's right sometimes and you're a fucking idiot - and you press your lips a bit harder against her pulse point, sucking it a little and swiping your tongue over the smooth skin.

The soft gasp draws you out of your trance.

Fuck.

Regina, who has been doing that thumb thing again for the last few minutes and drawing gentle circles over the back of your neck, clutches you tighter. Her fingers go from your neck to your hair and they tug lightly, bringing your face closer. Another shiver courses through her body and you really want to kiss her again.

You want to take the patch of skin above her pulse and suck on it. You want to flick your tongue over and over and hear her gasp into your ear again.

But you're also very much aware of the effects all of this is having on your body. Your skin is buzzing from the contact, from the way Regina is pressed so tightly into you. You can tell she isn't wearing anything underneath her robe either. It's hard to focus on anything when the stiff peaks of her nipples are bearing down on your chest.

And you're wet. You're so wet it's embarrassing. You haven't been this aroused in so long that you hardly remember the feeling of your insides churning or your center throbbing. You could probably get off right then and there if you wanted to.

But you don't. Because this is Regina and this is wrong and you have no idea what you're doing.

It's also the happiest you've been in a long, long time.

"Is this alright?" she whispers into your ear when you settle your head on her shoulder instead, focusing on anything else but the burning ache in your chest.

You draw back a little this time, putting some space between the two of you. But you can smell her, feel her everywhere still. Your eyes flick from her face to her lips and back again, and the urge to kiss her is so strong you have to take another step back.

"Yeah," you mutter finally. Your face is flushed, either from the embarrassment of losing yourself so quickly or your sex-crazed thoughts. Neither option sounds so great right now. "Thanks."

"You don't need to thank me, Emma," she says gently. The way she says your name sends your heart flying to your throat. "It's the least I could do."

And there it is - the sliver of disappointment you'd been anticipating. The hug had just been a means to an end - because you asked for it, not because Regina wanted it. It's the type of disappointment that throws you off balance and makes your chest ache even more.

"Right," you try not to sniffle. Crying's for losers anyway. "I should - I should go. It's late enough as it is."

"Stay."

The word is uttered with an almost desperate undertone, or maybe you're just imagining it. But Regina does take the extra step forward to place her hand on your forearm. It's the third time tonight that she has it there, only she doesn't let go. She seems to be inwardly battling with herself as her gaze lingers over your face.

"Stay. Please. There's a guest room upstairs you can use for the night."

Her hand slips from your forearm to your shoulder, and strays to your cheek before she hesitates, as though she's only just realizing that none of this is normal. Not for you two anyway. But it's instinct that meets her halfway again and you find yourself leaning into the touch before she can pull away.

"Okay," you say.

The smile you receive in return is totally worth it. You still really want to kiss her.

"I'll go set up the bed then," she tells you before letting her hand fall from your face. "There's some tylenol in that second cabinet over there if you're feeling any discomfort. I'll be right back."

She leaves the kitchen and you're left staring at her ass the entire way, which is a lot less heterosexual than you'd hoped considering you're left to your own thoughts. Everything's different now - has been since the moment you decided to take the dagger for this woman. Probably even before then.

But it's much clearer now even amidst your muddled thoughts and emotions. You feel like you might combust from it all. Only one thing's for certain.

You might just be a little in love with Regina Mills.

It's three o'clock in the morning.

You're tossing and turning later that night with no intention of sleeping. A part of it is because the vent is broken in the guest room. Regina knows this, had warned you about it before offering you a pair of fleece pajamas. But you're stubborn and you hate fleece and now you're shivering in your tank top beneath a thin layer of silken sheets as a result.

The biggest reason is because you can't stop thinking about Regina. And you don't know how to stop.

It's annoying as hell and you almost want to shove your face into a pillow until you suffocate. At least then you wouldn't feel so torn over your thoughts. But you figure you won't fair much better with your dreams and so you sit up, letting your bare feet touch the floor.

You can't just keep laying there. You need to do something.

The hallway is dark and quiet when you sneak out the door. Regina's room is on the other side, across from Henry's room, and you approach it with caution. Luckily it's slightly ajar as you take the plunge and knock, squeezing your eyes shut until you hear the muffled -

"Emma?"

You open the door. It's dark and you can barely make out Regina's outline in the bed on the other side of the room, but you feel naked standing there anyway. Maybe you should've put on some pants.

"What're you doing here?" Regina asks after a beat. "Is everything okay?"

You shrug. "It's cold."

There's another period of silence where you think you should've come up with a more convincing lie, even if this one is a half truth. You're standing there looking and feeling pathetic and all you really want to do is crawl into a ditch.

"There are extra blankets in the closet by Henry's room."

You shuffle your foot against the floor awkwardly. "Right. I'll go get those then. Sorry to bother you."

"Emma," Regina sighs and flips the covers over, gesturing to the empty space beside her. "Get in."

Closing the door behind you, you happily scamper to the bed and crawl in. The sheets are surprisingly softer than the ones in the guest room, but you guess it shouldn't really be much of a surprise when only Regina would have the best of the best.

You feel her shift beside you, and you're nervous again, unsure of what to say or what to do with your hands. Again Regina decides for you when she turns on her side, back facing you, and mumbles.

"I hope you don't snore."

"How should I know?" you mutter.

You've been told by Henry that you sometimes do. When you're really knocked out you sound like a wounded warthog or something, but obviously you don't tell her that in case she kicks you out.

"Want to tell me the real reason why you're here?" she asks.

You almost repeat your last words to that question - the 'not really' tumbling from your mouth in silent wording before your mind blanks. And what you say instead is probably the last thing you had meant to say.

"I can't stop thinking about that hug."

You know you've messed things up big time when the quiet stretches out to a long, drawn out silence. You think you feel Regina shift in your direction. But when seconds turn into a full minute, you're pretty sure you're about to vomit.

"I..." she begins, and you let out a relieved sigh. "Well, I'd be lying if I said it hasn't impacted me in any way."

You grin. That's Regina talk for I can't stop thinking about it either.

"Yeah?"

She huffs. "Go to sleep, Miss Swan." Burrowing deeper into the covers, she adds, "This isn't a sleepover."

"I haven't been to a sleepover in a while," you muse quietly. "Not since Lily. If you can even count that."

"Consider yourself lucky. Sleepovers are overrated."

You hum in agreement to that, tapping your fingers thoughtfully over the bedsheet. You're more conflicted than, well, the last time you've been extremely conflicted. Which you want to say was the moment you sacrificed yourself for her. But it had been a decision you made in a heartbeat.

You wouldn't hesitate to do it again if the time came.

"Regina?"

Another sigh. "What is it now, Emma?"

"Can I uh... hold you?"

Wow. Smooth wording, Swan.

She turns slightly to glance at you, and you can make out the crease of her brow furrowing in confusion. Your palms are sweating and you're starting to feel nauseous again, but you push past it because hell. You've gotten this far. The worst she can do is kick you off the bed. And out of her life.

So maybe there is a reason to worry.

"If you think I'm going to be anyone's teddy bear -" she begins in a terse whisper.

"No teddy bear," you interject. "Just... some friendly cuddling?"

"I don't cuddle."

You swallow down the bout of rejection clinging to your throat and nod. "Yeah," you say thickly. "Me neither."

"You don't 'cuddle' someone because it's a juvenile term. You embrace them," she says. You can practically sense her eyes rolling to the back of her head. "Come here."

Normally this would be a good time to snipe back, to call her out for being so bossy. But you're so anxious and excited that it hardly occurs to you that you don't mind the bossiness at all. You slide yourself to the center of the bed, until you're close enough to Regina that you can feel the warmth radiating from her back.

She takes your wrist and tugs you closer. You're pressed firmly against her back now, with her guiding your arm around her slim waist. You're aware of two things at that moment. She had changed from her robe to a pair of silky pajamas.

And you, you're still in your tank top, braless, and your nipples are achingly hard. You're shocked she doesn't move away the second you press your chest against her. If anything she shuffles even closer, shifting until her ass is tucked firmly against the space between your legs.

She's so warm in your arms.

You've never felt like this with anyone before - not with Neal who hardly ever held her at all, or Killian, who always seemed to hold on too tightly.

But Regina is soft and gentle and you're doing the holding this time. It's less suffocating that way, even though you get the feeling that it wouldn't feel suffocating at all if it was Regina holding you in her arms.

And she smells like lavender and clean clothes and makes your heart pound like you've been running a marathon. You can't help it. You nuzzle your face into her hair and inhale deeply.

She reaches out and clasps her hand over yours, which is resting over her stomach, and entwines your fingers together. The gesture is so intimate it makes your chest throb. So you take in another gulp of her scent and nuzzle your way from her hair to the nape of her neck.

You kiss her there, making sure you aren't pushing any boundaries before you take the step forward. She shivers against you and you bear down a little harder, nipping lightly at the patch of skin when you hear it.

She gasps again. It sounds more like a strangled moan than a sharp intake of breath.

Your eyes widen and you tilt your head to do it again, this time using a combination of tongue and teeth to suck on the sensitive curve of her neck. Her body is quaking now, the grip on your hand tightening as her hips jerk back into you.

"Emma," she breathes.

Fuck. Fuck. You've never been so turned on in your entire life.

You want to flip her over and devour her. You want to rip her pajama top off and make her breathe your name in that raspy voice of hers over and over and it scares the living crap out of you. But you also don't want any of this to end - the comfort, the soft touches and the intimacy. You want to keep touching her forever and you don't know which one scares you more.

You notice your fingers are tracing bare skin instead of silk. Your hand had somehow wormed its way underneath Regina's shirt and is now trailing the lines of her ribcage. She's tracing circles over the top of your hand again, silently urging you to slide your hand higher.

Any higher and you'll be full out groping her. But that might be exactly what she wants.

She grabs your hand and jerks it upward until it's sitting directly over her left breast, her nipple firm and pointed against your palm.

She's panting.

You're panting and you don't stop to think about what you're doing as you take the skin along Regina's neck and shoulder between your teeth, her nipple between your thumb and index finger, and give it a sharp tug.

The moan that rips out of Regina's mouth then is legendary. Her body arches into you, her hand gripping yours and holding it against her breast with solid force.

There's nothing in the world you want more than to hear it again but you know you've taken it too far. So you pull your hand away and let it rest over her stomach, above her pajama top. You try your best to control your breathing as you nestle your face back into her hair, but the blood is pounding in your head. Your thighs are damp and you're throbbing against Regina's backside.

It doesn't help that Regina's own breathing is shallow. She hasn't moved or said anything since you slipped your hand away. But you know for sure that you need to talk.

Thing is, you're both stubborn and do more action than talking. It's how you've gotten along thus far.

Fate's such a bitch.

"Do you..." You swallow the lump in your throat. Your mouth feels dry, though, and you almost choke out your next words. "Do you ever imagine what your happy ending would look like? Now that you aren't with Robin Hood anymore?"

That spurs a reaction out of her. She turns, shifting over in your arms until she's facing you. There are only about six inches between your faces. You can see Regina's face clearly, the way her eyes waver over your own and flicker with some foreign emotion.

"I do," she says in a low voice. "Quite often, actually."

Her breath ghosts past your cheek. It smells like mint and cider.

"We should probably talk about what happened," you say.

"Okay." She tilts her head in a nod and studies you. "What are you thinking about?"

Your gaze darts from her eyes to her nose and back up, before finally settling on her lips, which part open the second you glance at them. Your first thought is, 'you're so beautiful.'

But that's hella cheesy and too deep for the status of your relationship at the moment. So you go with the next cheesy statement in mind.

"I really want to kiss you right now," you blurt out.

You swear you hear her breath hitch from the confession. But it's hard to decipher her reaction when she's simply staring at you. It's not long afterward that she smiles, a soft, genuine smile, as she glances down at your lips.

"So why don't you?"

It's your turn to be caught off guard. You quickly shake it off and enthusiastically slide over until your bodies are touching again. You're so close, you can see her pupils dilate with the sudden movement. You can feel wisps of air hitting your jaw.

You hesitantly reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into the gesture, her eyes never leaving yours and they're so dark. She looks so vulnerable.

Your chest is constricting with the rapid pace of your heartbeat. You lick your lips and lean closer in anticipation, noses bumping in the process.

She chuckles. "Are you going to kiss me or not, Miss Swan?"

"Shh," you hush her, and then slowly close the distance.

Your eyes flutter shut at the first press of lips, which is tentative and a little awkward, but at the same time it's everything. It's your very first kiss with the foster boy next door when you were ten, it's the fireworks that exploded in your head when you were eighteen and in prison and kissing your first girl. It's your first date when you were fifteen and the first time you ever fell in love. It's all the firsts and lasts and everything in between.

You put some extra pressure into the kiss, letting your hand slide from Regina's cheek to the underside of her jawline. You feel her smile into your lips and kiss you back. Her hand is nestled over your hip, fingertips trailing along the thin strip of skin between the hem of your tank top and your underwear. You remember again that you're not wearing any pants. You wonder if she can smell your arousal.

You gasp lightly when Regina's tongue darts out and flicks the inside of your lip. It catches you by surprise, so much so that you gasp again and part your lips to give her free reign. She takes your bottom lip in between her teeth and sucks. Hard.

You moan deeply and grasp for anything you can get your hands on - her hair, her hips. She's already clawing at your shirt and you're half afraid she's going to tear it off you. Literally. Not because the shirt means anything to you, but because you're not fully ready to take it that far yet.

But she's sucking on your lip and your mind is in a total haze. You pull away just enough so that your breaths mingle together and you're grinning widely.

"Is this okay?" you ask her, repeating the same question she'd asked hours ago.

She laughs then. It's gentle and warm and she looks so radiant. Her eyes are glinting with that foreign emotion you've seen earlier and you realize what it is.

It's happiness.

She's happy. Because of you.

All those times you've fought for her happiness, it never occurred to you that you could be the direct result of it.

"Yes," she whispers finally and kisses your nose, letting her fingers entwine in your hair. "It's very okay."

She brings your face in and kisses you again. It's not as gentle as the first one. It's hard and a little rough and you're completely okay with that. You arch into her, mimicking her previous motions and twisting at the silky fabric of her shirt.

You guide her closer until she's half on top of you, knees on either side of your thigh. She leans over you and does that tongue thing that drives you insane - where she traces your lower lip, lightly nips on it. And suddenly your tongues meet and you see stars.

You can sense her rocking her hips into you little by little. The bit of space that remains between your hips doesn't do much to enhance the friction. It's a terrible idea, but you want it so badly you find yourself encouraging her. You graze the length of her silk-covered back with your nails, pushing her further into your thigh.

"Oh god," you hiss as lips latch onto your throat.

You're seeing stars once more, except for a wholly different reason and your hands are everywhere. From Regina's hair to her hips, and down to the rounded curve of her ass.

It's fleshy and fits perfectly in your palms. You don't realize you're bearing down on it until you're arching your hips in time with Regina's rocking. She's straddling you, grinding into your lap and it's the hottest thing you've seen in your life.

"Fuck." You toss your head back at the exact time she shoves a knee in between your thighs. You're soaked, that much you call tell.

You're also shamelessly humping her leg and you can't do anything about it.

"Fuck, Regina."

"Hmm," she purrs into your ear. Hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt and caress your stomach. "Say my name again, Emma."

You shudder at the sound of her voice, at the sound of your name being used by that voice. It's embarrassing how close you are to coming when she's barely even touched you, but it's that realization that sobers you up immediately.

As scary as it sounds, you two need to talk. You need to talk about this, whatever this is, before you decide to go down that hill again.

You slow your movements and settle your grip away from Regina's ass to a safer spot below her shoulders.

She seems to catch on quickly as she slides her hands out from underneath your shirt. She pulls you in for a lazy kiss, though, sitting comfortably and motionlessly over your lap. It feels nice, like you could do this everyday - lazy kisses and fondling - and be happy about it.

You're grinning by the time she pulls away. She takes one look at you and rolls her eyes, but in an affectionate way. Because she's smiling too and nuzzling your nose with hers.

"I'm sorry," she tells you as she moves off your lap. You miss the contact instantly. "That got out of hand."

"You don't have to apologize for that. I mean, it takes two to, you know..."

She raises an amused brow. "Fornicate?"

"I was going to say tango, but if you're going to talk like we're in bible study, be my guest," you say.

She breathes out a laugh, the kind that lights up her whole face and you continue to stare at her. She really is so beautiful. You've noticed from day one. Who wouldn't?

But now that you think about it, it all makes sense. The glances, the bouts of jealousy when you'd see her with Robin Hood, the promises for happy endings. For something more.

"We should talk about it," you murmur.

"We will," she promises, and her eyes catch yours as she stretches the small distance to grab your hand. It's the injured one, the one with the little bruises on your knuckles from where you had struck Robin Hood square in the jaw.

You didn't regret it before, and you definitely don't regret it now when she brings your hand to her lips and kisses the area around your knuckles.

"Later," she tells you. "Right now you need to sleep."

"Okay."

She motions to herself, opening her arms in invitation. "Come here," she says for the second time tonight.

You happily crawl into her arms, burrowing your head into the crook of her neck. Her arms circle around you before they hold you close, almost cradling you. Her fingers immediately nestle into your hair. You feel safe in that one gesture, safer than you have in a long time considering you live in a town where danger approaches you like a moth to a flame.

You feel - dare you say it?

Happy.

More than that, you want Regina to feel it, too. You want it more than the idea of keeping your promise. For the longest time you had thought you were doing your duty as a friend, as the Savior and the other mother of the son you share with this woman. But it had always been more than that. You realize that now.

You want her to be happy with you. And you're going to keep fighting for that.

Because you're pretty sure you might just be a little in love with Regina Mills.