Author's Note: It was bound to happen sooner or later. Seeing all those glorious Remma fanfics, I grew bitter that although I had kind of founded this ship's ficcing realm -cough-, I had only submitted one story to embellish it. I couldn't possibly leave it at that. Hate!sex, hate!sex and even more hate!sex. (In short, the opposite of Wishful Thinking.)

English is still not my native language. (Whoah, I almost forgot to mention that.)

"Get out."


"I said get out."

Once upon a time, there was a young woman with hair the color of Sun's locks and soul made of shimmering crystal. This woman – let's call her Emma – lived a solitary life in hiding from the scourge of fairytales becoming real, little boys predicting the future and vicious witches trying to claw her eyes out. On a glorious autumn day, this woman was fucking pissed off.

The cause of her anger was none other than one of those evil witches – let's call her Regina – who decided this day would be a good day to arrive at Emma's doorstep and barge in like she owned the place. Technically, Emma didn't either, but that was beside the point.

"Miss Swan, you seem to be missing the point. You have no right to tell me anything." The witch's words spewed poison and there was no doubt in Emma's mind she couldn't wait to bite her and release the poison into her veins. "This is my town. The one you drove back to my house is my son. You damaged my tree and you stole my shirt, both of which are, contrary to what Henry might have told you, my property."

Using her minions, the witch had discovered Emma's location and had been all too eager to get what she wanted the most, and Emma was even more suspicious because the poor girl had no idea what precious enchanted artifact that might have been. Regina had stepped over the threshold, acknowledging the work Mary Margaret had put into making this place her safe haven by muttering something about a charming residence. All too soon the admiration faded and Regina turned to her victim, eyes dark as night, with a request; a request for Emma to inform her about every breath Snow White took around her wounded prince. She wanted to use the duckling as a mole to get something out of letting Emma occupy her realm.

It was then that the fight began.

"If we were to take inspiration in certain Aztec cultures, by now your crimes would have made you my property as well," Regina growled, bare inches away from Emma as if she were waiting for her to step back and run away, neither of which was about to happen.

"Get out," the blonde repeated firmly, standing her ground with her arms crossed over her chest. She knew she should have avoided the witch's wrath like the plague, but the swan was fearless to the point of being stubborn and passionate about matters best laid to rest. She had never learned that you should not poke the crouching tiger.

Emma's body stiffened from head to toe as the witch traced a line along her cheek and jaw with her index finger. "You need to learn your place, Miss Swan." Her voice was freezing everything in its wake. If there had ever been a ray of light for Emma to see in her eyes, it had migrated with the geese, disappearing in their formation. Although she would never admit it, this terrified Emma; she was no cat. She couldn't see in the dark.

The next thing she knew, she was pinned to the cold bricks of the wall in Mary's apartment by a hand on her waist and another around her throat. There was no visible rage, no apparent disdain. There was just that; an emotionless void in the eyes of the witch. Nevertheless, her grip on Emma wasn't tight. She wasn't trying to strangle her; it was just there to let the duckling know she could pluck out its feathers and leave it to die at the side of the road any second and wouldn't hesitate to do so. It was just there to make it clear that Emma, under all circumstances, belonged to her.

"Actually, I'm fairly sure the Aztecs would have my arms chopped off," Emma choked, changing the tone of her voice by a considerable degree, as if she were implying that that would be the easy way out.

"Possibly. But here, we abide by my rules." She lowered her head to Emma's ear to let out a dreaded whisper that would send chills down the blonde's spine. "Which is it going to be, Miss Swan?"

Of course Miss Swan never believed in fairytales, but having the Mayor come to visit and ask her to monitor Mary's behavior had looked borderline shady. She had inquired what need a witch would have for such information. The answers she got were not the ones she had wanted to hear.

Neither were Regina's.

"I will not betray her." Her voice was hoarse and slowly breaking, but her eyes spoke for her.

It was all about the ring; the ring Mary never took off her finger. Somehow, the witch had found out a ring quite similar to this one was missing from the prince's castle, and though that wouldn't be too troubling by itself, she was surely going to have Mary arrested for theft and sentenced to who knows how many months in a cold dungeon beneath the town of Storybrooke. All it would take was for someone to let it slip after the couple has been reunited so that Regina could blame David not turning the princess in on his feelings. In exchange, peace would be achieved in the lake; a vision blurred by hazy mists and years of inner turmoil.

Emma Swan had long ago abandoned all thoughts of peace.

"Yes, you will."

The blonde gasped in surprise as the hand on her waist swiftly found its way under the hem of her tank top and roughly squeezed her breast through her black bra. Within milliseconds, Regina's tongue used the opportunity to sneak its way into her mouth. The kiss didn't need permission; it didn't wait for it nor expect it. It was sloppy and demanding and ravishing and precisely the kiss Emma had been waiting for, and she pulled the witch closer and succumbed to her seduction for reasons unknown to her. It must have been the curse. The subtle physical attraction, the warmth in her gut; it had always been the witch's curse.

Feeling Emma kiss her back, the dark-haired menace pulled away. "Eager, are we?" she smirked at the embarrassment etched all over the blonde's face. She didn't even give her a chance to recuperate and pushed Emma onto the couch that was way too small for both of them to fit onto it, making her hit her head on the arm. Regina, supporting herself against the back of the couch, couldn't care less as she straddled the younger woman with her hips and bent to trace a trail of wet kisses along Emma's neck, nibbling and sucking.

"Not here," Emma whispered breathlessly, halfheartedly trying to push Regina off her.

"I never asked for your chivalrous opinion, Miss Swan," Regina shot back venomously, biting down hard on the blonde's clavicle to prove a point. Emma cried out at that; it would surely leave a mark.

"Is this the only way you can get people to do what you want?" Emma asked, her cheeks gaining the color of the Mayor's prized honeycrisp apples. "By seducing them?"

Regina ground her knee into the blonde's center and watched with silent, satisfying pleasure as the woman under her squirmed and moaned involuntarily. "It is most effective, don't you think?"

A twisted smile appeared on Emma's face. "Considering you've got the whole town on their knees, sure," she agreed, the grin growing wider. "Tell me, what was it like doing Archie? Or Ruby, did you sleep with her too?" she mused and frowned, a finger on her lips, pretending to reflect deeply on the subject like a child would. "A late night at the café, maybe she accidentally spilled cappuccino all over you and had to make up for it—"

She was interrupted by the pain of Regina's hand meeting her cheek in a sharp slap. "Shut up!"

There was something new in the eye of the witch; a newfound, almost animalistic ferocity. Even that – and the red outline of Regina's hand on her face – didn't prevent Emma from continuing. It's not like she got off on insulting the townsfolk – what the ears don't hear, the heart doesn't feel – but seeing Regina's jaw clench made up for all the time spent in a moral grey area (or couch, for that matter). "Or maybe she offered to help you with that shirt herself…"

Never poke the crouching tiger.

Regina silenced her remarks when their lips met in another searing kiss and she bit the blonde's lower lip and unzipped her jeans and Emma could feel a thin string of blood trickling down her chin, but had no time to register the shrill pain because by then Regina's hand found its way to her crotch and – for the love of god almighty. Emma sought comfort in the warm crimson liquid while the other woman caressed her through her panties, making an entirely different, bliss-induced kind of warmth pool in her abdomen.

The brunette pushed their chests together and buried her head in the crook of Emma's neck, thriving in every instinctive buck of her victim's hips against her hand. She couldn't help but smirk as she pressed her lips into Emma's bare shoulder; the effect she had on her was blatant and only confirmed when she roughly slammed two fingers into the blonde's writhing body. "Say that again?" she dared, straightening her back, eyes gleaming with delight. She was nowhere near going to finish what she had started until she got what she yearned for and deserved.

"Bitch," Emma growled through a suppressed moan.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, that's not the kind of language I'd like to hear," Regina raised an eyebrow at her. Then she leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Here's how this is going to work, Miss Swan. You do what I want you to do, and in return I just might give you what you need. Do we have a deal?"

"You underestimate me, Madam Mayor," the blonde huffed out quietly, never breaking eye contact.

In response, Regina decided to test the waters, curling her fingers inside her. "Do I?" she mused, that signature grin of hers coated in a sanguine (and by then slightly smeared) lipstick contrasting with her pale face. She began at an excruciatingly slow pace, driving Emma to the edges of madness. "Will you?"


Her free hand travelled in a straight line from Emma's jugular to the valley between her breasts. "I'm going to ask you again. Will you do it for me?"

Emma's already shallow breathing hitched and, lips slightly parted, she whispered: "No."

"Too bad…" The rogue hand moved to pull up her shirt and delve into the blonde's bra. At the same time, Regina sped up her ministrations in Emma's loins. "How about now?"

Emma was going to shoot another 'no' back at the evil witch, but along with the betrayal of her body, her vocal chords were bound to follow sooner or later. She wanted to voice her resistance but was no longer able to. She started to panic. With her voice, she lost control – or the illusion of control she had told herself she possessed.

Making her whimper, Regina pinched her nipple between her long, sharp nails, and picked up her pace another notch. "You know where this is going, dear. Save yourself the trouble and say it."

"No," Emma shook her head. It was no longer a simple reflection of defiance; it was a feeble attempt at empowering her long faded will. The swan was a sinner in so many ways. She took the scorpion across the river, and got stung. She flew too close to the scorching sun, and got burned.

It felt as if the witch's claws were digging into her from the inside and she gasped, gulping down mere air where she craved Regina's lips to cling to. She licked her own instead, tasting an irony trace of her own blood she had forgotten all about. She closed her eyes, trying to grasp the last, most irrational hope of Regina taking mercy on her. "Emma," the witch rasped and Emma knew hope only existed in fairytales.

"No," she repeated inaudibly.

Emma couldn't even think anymore, let alone think straight. She was lost in an Eden-like haze of pleasure and she was certain she must have lost the ability to breathe altogether several minutes prior, and the torture was unbearable but sweet at the same time with nothing there to feel except Regina's tongue curled around her nipple and her fingers inside her, keeping her so close to the edge she would fall if she took one step, just one more step—

"Please," Emma whimpered, all thoughts of potential and inevitable consequences set aside.

"Will you?"

She would curse herself all the way to the depths of hell. She didn't care. "I—will—"

"That's all you needed to say," Regina smiled into the soft flesh underneath and began massaging Emma's nub with her other hand, capturing Emma's breast with her mouth for one last time, caressing, soothing, content now that the conquest had been made. It didn't take much more than that for fireworks to explode above one giant bonfire, and the witch laughed, victorious at last, into the music of the blonde's moans.

Regina climbed off her and delicately licked the sweet taste of triumph off her fingers. "I'm glad we've reached a mutual consensus," she jeered and left Emma in a haphazard mess, drops of dry blood on her chin, shirt still pulled up and jeans halfway down the way to her knees, to recover and figure out what the hell had just happened.

Henry had been right after all. Everyone had fallen prey to the Evil Queen's curse. Only then did Emma realize that the precious artifact, while perhaps not the one she had come for, but definitely the one Regina had ripped away from her, was the swan's numb heart.