Though I love the possessive dynamic people give Regina in bed because well, her character(s) is power, I like to think her mother's smothering to happiness makes her a prude. And thinking of Regina Mills as a prude in bed is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Hope you enjoy reading as I enjoyed writing :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the OUAT characters. Just my perverted thoughts on two particular characters ;)

The quivering sounds of Regina's pants hushed her dark room as she jumped into a sitting position on her bed, skin coated in sweat. She could barely hear over the blood pumping in her ears, her senses on overdrive from her irritatingly stimulating dream. A low sigh, uncharacteristic even for her low timbre of a tone, rumbled deep in her belly- which fell limb from her subconscious actions- as she flopped back on the bed, rolling her eyes. It was then that she realized that a hand was inside her shorts, softly stroking the sensitive flesh there. Like lava she shrugged it away, appalled at the offending motions of her perversion.

It happened- again; this, this, nightmare. A sick act of images that can't seem to leave her mind, despite her expedient actions to the contrary. It's been weeks and she kept dreaming of it, her, in various locations and positions and it was driving her mad. Like mother told her long ago "Intercourse is for the King's hedonism, or your power. Pleasure is coercion, which is weakness, dearie.' And Regina Mills will never show weakness, especially to the woman she hated.

Or suppose to hate.

It all started when she caught sight of Emma wearing one of her shirts- which should've irritated her. Watching her walk in the silk, most likely not accustomed with the lush material, was amusing, though. It hung loose around her chest area, obviously not tailored for her form and the awkward unfamiliarity was so stiff it looked borderline painful. Yet oddly the blonde's rigid stride- squared shoulders, fingers digging into palms- brought out some of her individuality and, well lack of better words, swagger. A swagger that Regina found very sexy.

A swagger she wasn't suppose to find sexy.

She wouldn't allow herself to indulge in such fantasies, though, or whatever the hell this situation was. That would be admitting this was getting the best of her, that the brash blonde was always on her mind, and she refused to show physical evidence of her mental betrayal.

Regina Mills was a lady.

...

Storybrooke's winters weren't the worse weather she's experienced, but the occasional frost wind can be quite unpleasant to her mood and her joints. The best remedy for this unfortunate weather was a nice warm, steamy dip in her indoor jacuzzi and a good book nestled in her hand. That'll not only relieve her bones but perhaps another reason of new-found stress in her life.

Or so she thought.

She dipped her toe in the warm, bubbling water and she felt the relief already. Satisfied with its heat she planted that foot down, leaning against the wall for support as she carefully sank her naked body into the tub, a low groan leaving her lips as her eyes slipped shut. This was what she needed, relaxation; to let her scurrying mind null with bliss. Regina slid further into the jacuzzi, allowing the jets to knead the tightness of her muscles. The ache abated, and pleasurable satiation blossomed. Her eyelids grew heavy and her limbs numb, but a certain ache she, unfortunately, was well aware of.

When she blinked and her eyes stayed closed longer than open, she let the exhaustion get the best of her. Vision blurry, she traveled into the bliss of her mind, to something that lull relaxation couldn't rest. An insufferable blonde, green eyes that told the storm of frustration and lust. That pale athletic frame pressed against her own, a heat building at her pelvis as she clawed down a toned back, softly begging against a small ear- the unfamiliar fragility of her voice no longer embarrassing to her- and two, lithe fingers gliding into almost shameful wetness, all in one motion, just that step to tip her off to-

She blinked, a nearly painful stomp with her eyes, as she nearly leaped into a rigid posture. A warm body no longer pressed against her core. Long, blonde curls didn't tickle her tensed abdomen, and she wasn't encircled with pleasure and wrinkled sheets.

She's back in her jacuzzi, adorned with a few lit candles, and the rhythmic quivers of her breathing- her hand between her legs.

Her hand between her legs!

The realization made her snatch away with a hiss, bubbling water splashing against her chest. The only times she caught herself with her fingers there when it were done unconsciously, and, of course, for hygienic purposes. She doesn't, refused to, give into temptation; a euphemism for weakness. It had been wired from mother that sex was merely for procreation, manipulation, and, or, control. And though her hatred for her mother stemmed from somewhere dark and vulnerable, a few of her quotes and mannerisms sunk in and shaped her into the monster people feared- in both worlds.

A role, for the most part, she didn't mind playing.

With haste she stood up and snatched the plush, crimson towel as she stepped out of the tub. And even there, somewhat awake and active, she seemed to find a honey-colored mane at the centre of her abdomen, feel soft kisses with a warm, open mouth, trailing down to clean the mess she was the culprit of starting in the first place. And when green eyes on hers held a glint of imp and desire, she snapped out of her hazy reverie and continued drying herself off.

Something she thought a certain blonde would make a task this mundane and necessary, far more interesting and satisfying.

Just a little short insight on Regina's frustration :) It would be lovely if you leave me a review and tell me what you think so far :D