WARNINGS:
In this story you'll find:
- SMUT (DETAILED DESCRIPTIONS OF SEXUAL INTERCOURSE)
- EXPLICIT LANGUAGE
- CHEATING
- SMOKING

And this is why it's M-RATED.

MAIN CHARACTERS: Emma Swan, Regina Mills
GENRE: Angst, Erotic, Drama.
SETTLING: ending of season 4, before the season finale, pre-Dark!Emma.

The complete notes (with spoilers) are the end of the story (it's a one shot).

Thanks to Delirious Comfort and Enna S. for the editing job.

Enjoy!

NOTHING TWEE

"Everything in the world is about sex, except sex.
Sex is about power."

[O. Wilde]

She knew it was about to happen the moment she stepped inside of the bar.

Granny's was full, not with the usual workers on their lunch break, but with the lonely Friday night drinkers. With a pang of remorse she realized she was able to identify each and everyone of them: darts competitions with complete strangers and a few too many drinks, had been her personal palliative in the last few months.

"You guys, the Sheriff's here!"

"Blondie, are you going to join us?"

She didn't pick up any invitations that night, nor did she retort to any provocations thrown her way. Instead, she let it roll of her back as each languid glare crossed her march.

She had detected her prey the moment she had first opened the door: in the back of the room, in the small hallway between the toilets and the first floor stairway, discreetly hidden from clients' eyes.
But not from hers.

"Hey, where are you going? What is it? Do you have a better offer?"

She dodged protests barely heard as she looked at her prey, safe from the prying male stares.

The mere sight of her was enough to arouse her. Every last curve was perfectly hugged by a clanging red dress, stunningly in contrast with the raven colored hair.

She looked her in the eyes for a single moment, just in time to unmask the painful glint of luxury, and then she wasted no more time. She grabbed her by the waist and pushed her against the wall, catching her lips in an arrogant, urgent, hungry kiss. The brunette's resistance quickly ceded under the tyranny of her tongue, which marked every corner of her mouth, seeking dominance in the erotic power game.

"Wait."

Two hands on her shoulders pushed her back slightly, breaking their fight with a wet pop.

"You have been drinking. You taste like a two-dollar whiskey."

An annoyed snort escaped from the Savior's lips. "It's not like I have to drive. I'm completely able to fuck you."

Her right hand slid over the woman's hip, greedily clawing her buttock.

The muffled whimper that she stole was the last confirmation she needed.

"My magic can feel yours. I know you're just as horny as I am."

She moved down one more time to lick her neck, tracing sensual bites over her mandible, and when an acute moan filled her ears she knew she had just defeated every reticence.

"Just for tonight. No preliminaries, no cuddles at the end."

Emma sneered. "I'm going to ask for a room."

Two fingers stopped her by grabbing her jeans belt.

"I have already taken care of it."

Emma was shocked to see her grab a key out of her coat's pocket.

"And you want me to believe you hadn't planned it?

#

She had definitely planned it.

She had planned it when, that morning, she had shaved her legs with a minutia she hadn't used in years, making sure to magically erase every trace of imperfections.

She had planned it when, that evening, she had chosen her clingiest and shortest dress, matching it with a fancy coat. Because, as endearing as she wanted to appear, she would have rather let someone slain her than give up her elegance.

She had planned it when, that night, she had arrived too early, nervously pacing up and down, wondering if the blonde would have truly picked up on her provocations.

She had been looking forward to this for weeks. Weeks of languorous glares, ambiguous jabs, cryptic allusions and implicit proposals.

And when she had seen her arriving, chaining her green eyes to hers, Regina understood it was about to begin.

When she found herself snatched up and pressed against the wall - the blonde's urgency making her own arousal reaching the point of no return - she forced herself to clear her mind from every doubt, every second thought, and every pang of guilt. She wanted to indulge in a single night in which she could shut her brain off, forget about who she was and who this hungry aggressor was: the woman who made it so very clear that if she wanted mastery she would have had to earn it.

It was just a one-night stand, after all.

How much damage could it cause?

#

A single moment of hesitation had been enough to make her lose the reins of the game.

When they had unlocked the door, revealing a bleak room, as dirty as her conscience, her hubris had reeled for a moment.

It wasn't like as if it was her first encounter in a cheap Bed & Breakfast room. But, with a flash of painful clarity she realized it would have been the first time since she had arrived in Storybrooke.

She found herself flipped on the mattress, suddenly in the prey role, while her predator had wasted no time sliding off her leather jacket and tossing it onto the floor.

The sense of responsibility clouded her mind.

She thought about her parents and how they would have judged her if they would ever found out. She thought about Hook, and briefly wondered if being cheated on would have even hurt him that much. Her mind wandered to Henry and the atrocious parenting example she set once again.

But when she felt her jeans sliding down to her ankles and dropping to the ground, she also thought it had been too long time since she had been fucked without thinking of the implications.

Her mind wandered to her youth, spending almost each night in a different bed, hiding the pain behind forced orgasms, enjoying the ephemeral freedom of waking up at the crack of dawn, only to take a shower and run away: behind her, nobody to claim her.

She admitted to herself that she missed those days of meaningless sex and no consequences whatsoever.

And then she thought about how this version of Emma Swan - daughter of beloved monarchs, girlfriend of a redeemed pirate, mother of an abandoned child and Savior of opportunist people - was way too tight for her.

With a feline agility - built by years of training - Emma twisted her legs around the brunette's hips and with simultaneous contraction of abs and quadriceps she flipped her on one side, landing on her, exploiting all the weight of her musculature to keep her immobilized on the bed.

Her initiative was immediately gratified by an amused laugh.

"Welcome back, Emma. I lost you for a minute there."

Emma's gaze devoured the sinuous body under her. "I was just choosing the best way to fuck you." She caressed a thigh, appreciating the muscle tone, rolling the hem of her dress on her hips, moaning with desire at the sight of a red transparent g-string.

"Will you be able to take command without having to use your gun, Sheriff?" It was an ironic challenge, and Emma knew it.

She knew that the muscular body she was holding captive was strong enough to shake her off, as she knew that the brunette's nature was as dominant as her own. But she also knew that she needed to be the one in charge, just for once, just that night. She planted a suppliant glare in her partner's excited one, begging her to let her lead.

And the brunette let her. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall on the mattress with an anticipatory whimper: it was her implicit permission for Emma to do with her as she pleased.

Emma let go of every last ounce of hesitation - she was rude and brusque as she had promised, never even bothering to undress the brunette. The blonde yanked the neckline down as much as possible and lowered the bra to reveal a dark nipple, already fully erected, and she sucked it with all the fervor she had, rejoicing in the satisfied gasps filling the room.

When she had enough of it she came back to the transparent g-string. She wet the tip of her nose with her prey's arousal, sniffing her piercing scent, biting her inner thigh in a tacit message of dominance. She clasped the fabric between two fingers and moved it aside, smiling at the sight.

"Your cunt is so wet, you're making this way too easy."

And without giving the brunette time to protest, she passed her tongue along the length of her inner lips, bottom to top, while the acrid flavor of her wetness exploded on her taste buds.

It was the end of a long abstinence period.

She almost didn't hear the cries of her partner, the sped breath, the delighted squeals.

All she perceived was the adrenaline pumping in her veins, temples pulsing with excitement, drunken with that feeling of power that she was able to experience only with sex. She used her biceps to block her thighs, keeping them from jolting forward, and she sunk her tongue in the flesh, spinning it mercilessly into her walls, thrilled by ecstatic sighs escaping her prey's proud mouth.

When Emma caught her swollen clit between expert lips, the brunette's real torture begun.

The sheriff wasn't just fucking her: she was infusing herself into her. Thrusting her own fears, sucking her own insecurities, and licking her own scars. She kept going for interminable minutes, increasing the rhythm with surgical lucidity just to slow down a second before the climax, inebriated by her own lust, deaf to her victim's prayers.

When a loud sob begged for mercy, she finally tightened her teeth one last time, burying the clit with quick tongue shots, until a violent shiver shook the body she had agonized with this much luxury.

Emma rested her head on the bed, not far from the still warm brunette's groin, and closed her eyes for a moment, letting the satisfied chills run under her skin, filling her with craved endorphins.

No cuddles at the end.

She believed she had dozed off when she heard the soft sound of heels on the parquet, and for a moment she feared, with a twinge of worry, that the time to dress and go back to reality had already come.

She recognized she had misunderstood, when she was abruptly grabbed and forced to stand. Without having the time to realize it she found herself hurtled up against the wall, head turned to one side, two soft breasts pressed against her back and her neck strained in a painful angle.

"Did you really believe you were the only Alpha in this room, Sheriff?"

The high heels were supposed to annul her height advantage. Those few inches earned in that simple, and efficacious way, allowed her torturer to tower over her and keep her quiet without too much effort.

"I can't believe I made you come with just my mouth, Alpha".

Emma tried to push her neck back to test her adversary's strength, but a firm jolt to her hair warned her that no rebellion would be tolerated.

The Savior was absolutely thrilled.
It was not like she had underestimated her, of course. She had always known that the woman wasn't week or passive, both physically and mentally.

And this was arousing as fuck.

"It means I will make you come with just my hands."

As two fingers entered Emma from behind, violently and without preliminaries, a jolt was sent straight to her brain. And Emma knew it wouldn't have been easy at all.

#

Regina had always known that the blonde harbored a dominating streak within. Just as she had always suspected that the indomitable spirit was just a firm mask hiding failures and anguishes, like the dolor of an abused girl, an amputated mother, or a constantly lonely woman.

And it had been that respect for the pain, which was way too familiar for the ex Evil Queen, that had made her consent to the blonde's torments on her own body. She had swallowed her combative persona for a few minutes, enjoying long moments of quick and raw sex, honest and without any filter or hypocrisy.

So, when her ravenous partner had started to believe she had caged her desires of dominion, she had drawn on her own physical strength and emotional sufferance to reverse their roles, elated by that feeling of absolute power which had gladdened her old Evil Queen days.

And while the blonde's resistance was quickly liquefying, melting between stifled whimpers and obscene curses, Regina's fingers dug through each fold of hers, exploring with feverish urgency. It was then that they found the most obscure ravine and her fingers buried her own guilt there, along with the anger of being a replacement-mother to her own son, a replacement-daughter to her own mother, and a replacement-lover to her own boyfriend.

She clipped the blonde's clit between thumb and forefinger and when she noticed the blood spilling from her lip, she decided to have mercy. She added a third finger inside of her and increased the rhythm.

When the orgasm finally took her, she held her from behind, hugging her as she trembled and biting her shoulder. Her tongue greedily licked at the trail of blood that ran from the laceration in her clavicle.

#

"You have a stunning body, Emma."

Standing in front of the window, her gaze lost in the nightly panorama, the Sheriff smiled. "I thought we agreed to no cuddles."

From the bed, the brunette grinned. "We're not cuddling. I was just giving you a compliment."

Emma shrugged, idly rolling a cigarette. "I've been doing mixed martial arts ever since I was a child."

A teasing laugh filled the room. "Why? Did you think you could save the world by kicking and punching?

Emma lit her cigarette. "Not all of us had magic to rely on."

"What the hell is that thing?"

The Saviour finally turned towards her, staring between a thick cloud of dark smoke. "The only version of magic existing in my teenager world. Do you want to try it?"

#

"I didn't realize you were attracted to women."

The mayor snorted in amusement. "Just a few of them. When your mother forces you to marry the King, you experiment as much as you can before your destiny is caged for the rest of your life."

"Is that why you became such a control freak? Because you couldn't escape from your mother's control?"

The brutality of the point-blank question shocked her.

She was tempted to admit it, to reveal the truth, to finally let go.

But then she realized that a one-night stand didn't make the woman worthy of her sincerity.

So, she shut her mouth instead.

#

"Just imagine, if your mother finds out."

Emma flinched at the thought. "She would freak out. She wouldn't be able to look at me, or you for that matter."

A sudden shock reminded her of how traumatic the first cigarette could be. For a moment she pitied the brunette who was attempting to sooth her pain by massaging her throat, and she turned again towards the dark. A quiet truth about her mother's disappointment snaked inside her mind.

Maybe it would not be such a traumatic experience, for me.

#

"Answer this question for me. You owe me this one."

Regina stared her with doubtful eyes.

"Am I better than Robin Hood?"

That earned her a sincere laugh from the Mayor.

"If you can keep your panties on without knocking up my sister, then yes, sure you are."

The ironic and dry tone wasn't lost on the blonde and she knew she shouldn't have thrown salt into the wound.

#

"Where is Henry?"

Emma put out her cigarette and she tossed it out of the window, watching the fascinating contrast of the red flame against the dark night. "He is with Killian."

"Those two are spending more night together than the two of you, aren't they?"

The Sheriff shot her a killer glare.

"Okay, understood. I'll shut up. It's just this stuff, it's making me dizzy."

Emma thought for just a moment, as she realized that it was true: she and Killian didn't spend the night together. Ever. It just simply didn't happen.

Or maybe it was her not wanting to make it happen.

"If I knew a cigarette was enough to make you dizzy, I would have given it to you the first night I came to Storybrooke."

#

She had put her coat back on, along with her dress, and the high heels managed to put a bit of make up on. It was dawning: time to dive into reality again. They were about to leave when the blonde suddenly turned towards her.

"Promise me one thing, Regina."

Regina raised a skeptical brow. "What is it?"

"Don't for a minute believe that sex should be like this. Mechanical, fast, and harsh. A mere game of seduction and power. Never completely rewarding to you."

A bitter laugh escaped from the mayor's lips. "And what do you know about it, Maleficent?"

The blonde witch put two hands on her shoulders, and Regina froze at the intimacy of the contact.

"Because I know what it's like to have sex with someone you love. It's different, Regina," she whispered with a low voice. "It would be different with her."

It sounded like an affectionate and sincere piece of advice, maternal even. Full of truth. She shrugged as she was completely terrified and removed her ex-mentor's affectionate hands as she lead her outside of her vault.

#

"It's dawn."

Emma moved away from the window, collecting her jeans from the floor.

"It's time to pretend like nothing is going on again, isn't it?"

The Savior just shrugged. "We're all pretending about something, Ruby. It's the only way to survive."

Smoothing her raven hair, the wolf shot her a snide glare. "You wouldn't survive with her, Emma."

Emma paused, as she predicted the end of the wolf's sentence with uncanny precision.

"You would learn what living means."

###

They went down the stairway from the first floor as if nothing had happened, complete nonchalance showed on their faces. Ruby went down first, taking her time as she opened the diner to welcome the first customers and then disappeared into the kitchen.

After a few deep breaths and a quick shower, Emma followed suit. She snuck through the back exit and entered again through the front, and found her parents and Henry sitting in one of the booths.

As well as Regina.

She shivered, as she usually did in the presence of the former Evil Queen.

She looked tired and upset, but the sheriff was the only one to notice the shadow of restlessness running into her pupils.

Ruby's words snaked treacherously into Emma's mind.

She shook them off, taking her usual seat next to the Mayor. "So, we may have figured out where the author is hiding."

#

She had sensed something weird. When she had seen her entering, with that waterfall of golden, indomitable hair, even more ruffled than usual, she had definitely detected something odd. Something she had never felt towards Emma before, but she couldn't really put her fingers on what it was.

Just for a second she had intercepted those big green eyes, mirroring her own inner turmoil.

Was Maleficent right? Would you be different, Emma?

But when the sheriff took her seat next to her, starting the meeting, she could easily identify with a painful precision what she had just felt.

#

Magic feels magic. It's a double skin, a natural instinct, a sixth sense. Emma's magic scented Regina's magic, and Regina's magic scented hers. And they both felt the same thing: the state of languid numbness hugging a body that has just had sex.

And they both thought:

She's already happy with her man. She could never be this happy with me.

THE END

Notes:

Ok, you're right, I'm sorry. I introduced this to you like a SwanQueen, and apparently it's not.

But, before you start throwing things at me, let me explain why, inside my head, this is a SwanQueen indeed.

I don't know when you had figured out that the characters were four instead of two, and that Regina was not Emma's partner or vice versa. The point is: they're not having a sexual intercourse for love. They're both doing it for pure physical desire, for anger, for need of power, control and dominance...almost whishing they were with the other one.

I've paid much attention to describe both intercourses from Emma and Regina's POVs, and not from the Maleficent or Ruby's ones (I didn't care about them, honestly), and in a moment in which they are both active and not passive, they're both giving pleasure instead of taking it and they're both giving an orgasm instead of taking one.

I wanted to let this hanging question: were they satisfied of their one-night stand? Maybe I'm too romantic, in my own sick way, when I think that they would both have an orgasm, and they would take pleasure from both the active and passive roles only if they were, finally, in bed together.

Ok, I have no more excuses left.

Now you can throw things at me, if you want.

If you won't, remember that feedbacks are highly appreciated: the good ones, the bad ones, the extremely bad ones...all of them.

Just…let me know.

You can find me on Facebook: I'm Pseudomon As

Thank you.

Pseudomonas