A/N - I was writing a second chapter for Too Many Drinks (which you can read if you go to my profile), but the style became so different from the first chapter that I turned it into a story of its own. You can read Too Many Drinks first for some context, or this as an individual story!

Regina looks back in time, wondering when it all started, though she knows. It began a month before, a night when they had too many drinks, a night when they flirted and teased each other until there was no flirting and no teasing and they were just them and their bodies moving in synch on the woman's bed. And it had gone on like that for weeks, between fights with their official lovers and whispers of the people in town. They judged, they all did. They still do. It had started as a rumour, but now everyone knows, and everyone talks. They don't know how it happened, they don't know why. They know nothing, they are ignorant. Yet ignorant people like to talk. They talk too much, or at least Regina thinks so.

"I'm sure they have been doing it for like months. Poor Robin."

"I always knew Emma was a dyke."

"Regina Mills, always so judgmental, always so "I'm better than anyone else", she's a whore like the ones in the taverns."

A few minutes after sending the text, steps downstairs in the woman's mansion, Emma is there. She can not call the house a home, she has just spent two nights there, but it is more of a home than the apartment she lives in. She feels sick, her hands shaking, the only cure for her illness nowhere to be seen. Click, clack, click, clack. Regina is there. Click, clack, click, clack. Regina is upstairs. Emma runs, skipping some steps. She has asked Henry for his key. Click, clack, click, clack. The sound becomes louder. Click, clack, click, clack. The door opens, Regina turns. Emma steps forward, then again and again. Click, clack, click, cl— Regina is pushed into an armchair, the blonde abruptly on her knees. The woman's brown eyes tearful, full of worry at the sight of green eyes that have no happiness in them anymore. Pencil skirt slowly uncovering olive thighs, green eyes darkening. A small glance into each other's eyes, a pant escaping Regina's lips, a soft nod from the older woman. They both need this, but it has been Regina the one who has called her. Black panties yanked down her legs, thrown away, mouth and tongue finding what they want most. Heavy moans, fingers pulling from blonde curls, high heels digging into the other's back. Swear words, cursing between moans, arms wrapping around legs to pull the other lower on the armchair. Eyes rolling in pleasure, thighs resting on the other's shoulders, nails scratching the ivory leather. A louder moan, nails digging into the other's scalp, hips bucking against wet lips.

A pause, heavy breathing. A shared, tearful look. One of them kneeling opposite to the other, hands on her lover's cheek, foreheads rested together. The guilt is not appeased. Regina whispers and the other stands up, walking to the closet, taking a box from the bottom. A hand taking the harness, the other unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down. Click, clack, click, clack. The brunette standing up, walking to the bed, biting her nail delicately as the other walks to the bed. They don't speak a word, Emma sits down on the middle as the other takes off her shirt, then crawls on the bed and straddles her. Hands guiding the toy, she moans, moving lower, taking it in. The pain is soothed, but it is not enough. It is never enough. Fire with fire, she needs it to hurt. She moves up and down, slowly, then faster. The savior's hands on the curve of her back, her mouth biting down on soft flesh of her cleavage. A loud cry, a petition for the other to continue. More bites, all over her cleavage, all over her neck, on her throat, on her collarbone, on her shoulders. Sweat on her skin, the scent all over the room. Moans louder and louder, pants, begging for more. The ache between her legs, about to turn into pure ecstasy, when suddenly it's gone. A gasp as she is pushed on the bed, lying on her back. Hands on her hips, roughly turning her. On her knees, hopeless at the mercy of her lover, the wetness dripping down her leg.

She feels her, inside of her again, in and out so roughly that it hurts. And the pain, that pain she loves so much, that pain she needs, the pain that is bringing her so high that she can't remember her own name anymore. She feels the other's grip, nails digging on her skin, a slap on her bottom, fingers tangling on her hair and pulling her back. She's on her knees now, arms moving back to wrap around the other in search for something to hold onto, finding the other's neck and holding her close. More panting, sweat covering the other's shirt, dripping down her neck and between her breasts, dampening the comfortable bra. A hand sneaking between the black lacy bra of the submissive one, groping her, squeezing with Rage. And it hurts, it really hurts, but god she loves it. She screams in pleasure, seeing the moon and the stars, every constellation and planet in her mind, her universe spinning around them for many seconds. She shakes, she moans, she pants and sighs, until she has no energy anymore and falls forward on the bed. It slides out of her, the harness is unfastened, forgotten on the floor next to the bed. The blonde's hands are on her body, helping her out of the misplaced clothes, freeing her from their gentle grip and making her facade collapse. She does the same with her own clothes, taking them off, leaving them on the floor, not caring about anything but to have the other in her arms.

And they wrap around her, and oh,it simply feels so good. She is safe, she is protected, she doesn't need anything else. She closes her eyes and breathes out, face buried on the other's bare chest, heat shared by their bodies as they quickly drift to sleep. The guilt is no longer there, and even though they know it will come back, they dream of happiness and peace, of the feeling of their loved one next to them. They don't need anyone else, they don't need them. No one makes them feel like the other makes them feel. Emma is Regina's medicine, and Regina is Emma's. An addictive, destructive, wonderful and perfect medicine. The pain is gone, and it all feels like a dream. But the marks on their bodies are there.

And oh, they are witnesses that it has not been a dream.