"I'll have your badge for this, Sheriff," Regina hisses as she crashes into the wall of her own damn office.

"You can have whatever you want, Madam Mayor," Emma sasses right back, before kicking Regina's legs farther apart. "Now, spread 'em."

Regina's lipstick leaves a vibrant smear across the black and white wallpaper as Emma grabs her by the hair and manhandles her into position. The minute she's released, Regina defiantly tries to squirm away. She's rewarded with a tap on her bare ass cheek from Emma's regulation-issue nightstick, and that stops her resistance in an instant.

"That's better," Emma says, and Regina can hear the fucking smirk. This is going to be completely unbearable.

Except that a second later, Emma is kissing the back of Regina's neck. It's hot and wet and the patterns she traces with her tongue are sending Regina's nerve endings into a frenzy, and it suddenly becomes easier to remember why Regina keeps offering up her body (and her mind, and her soul-if she does still have one) to this blonde interloper who refuses to be run out of town.

Now Emma's hand is roughly squeezing Regina's breast, pulling her away from the wall just far enough to be groped like this. She should feel ridiculous, naked but for her thigh-highs and the cool metal links of her necklace. Instead she feels wanton, ready to beg for more if Emma ever dares to stop.

"I hate you," Regina spits as Emma pinches the erect nipple between thumb and forefinger.

"No, you don't," Emma replies, and it sounds almost patient. Like she's worked something out and is just waiting for Regina to arrive at the same conclusion. Well, it's not like there's much chance of Regina working anything out when her brain keeps short-circuiting like this, most recently because Emma's got a thigh pressed between Regina's legs and that promises a whole hell of a lot more.

"Let. Me. Go," Regina tries, twisting out of Emma's rough embrace. She makes it as far as her desk before Emma is on her again, bending Regina over with far too much ease. Underestimating Emma is becoming something of a theme in Regina's catalog of mistakes. And it should be a mistake to end up face down on her own blotter, no matter how much her body is disagreeing right now.

"Regina, Regina, Regina," Emma scolds, punctuating each utterance of Regina's name with another stinging swipe of the nightstick on the ass that Regina is now basically offering up for whatever purpose Emma wishes. "Why do you insist on fighting me like this every time? We both know how wet you are. Or did you need a reminder?"

Regina groans at that, because she knows Emma will keep finding these new ways to humiliate her. Sure enough, lithe fingers are soon stroking through the wetness between her legs. Regina closes her eyes, and a long moment later those sticky, wet fingers are prodding at her lips.

"Taste yourself," Emma commands. "And tell me how much you want this. How much you like what I do to you."

Regina parts her lips to deny it, but finds herself sucking on Emma's fingers instead. Emma is leaning over her, the coarse denim of her jeans rubbing pleasantly against Regina's bare and overheated skin.

"See?" Emma says, her own voice husky now. No matter how cool she tries to play it, she betrays her own arousal every time. "Isn't it better when you do what you're told?"

"No," Regina lies. She's held power for so long (legitimately, sneakily and sometimes downright desperately) that it feels alien to give up any of it, for any reason. But Emma Swan has a black belt in being an exception to Regina's worldview.

Emma's response is a stinging slap to Regina's thigh, her fingers still damp from where Regina has licked and sucked on them. She furthers her point by pulling the nightstick from her belt once more and laying it on the desk next to Regina.

"Do you want me to let you come? Because you're not acting like it," Emma warns. She lets her fingers tease along Regina's slit, and Regina tries to arch back into the touch. But Emma has her pinned pretty well, and there's no way they're doing this at any other pace.

"Please," Regina whispers after endless minutes of delicate, teasing touches that have her almost crying with the need for more. She reaches blindly behind her, wanting to touch Emma as much as she herself needs to be touched. Emma slaps the hand away.

"Not yet," she says. Emma pulls her own hand away, and the loss makes Regina cry out softly. She's crying out much louder a moment later as Emma slips the first finger inside.

Regina feels herself squeezing around that finger, urging Emma beyond this gentle stroking in, and then out. Her reward is a second finger pressing into her, the fingertips skimming over her most sensitive spot before retreating and breaching her all over again. Emma knows Regina's body well by now, knows when to flex her knuckles at the very edges of Regina's entrance, and how that twisting motion as she thrusts is enough to leave Regina breathless almost right away.

"Please," Regina begs again, hating herself and yet somehow not caring. She needs this more than she needs the townspeople to fear her or the apples on her tree to keep growing. This is primal, and something in Emma Swan has unleashed it; like the dark curse it may well be almost unbreakable.

Emma rubs her free hand over Regina's back. "Rub your clit for me, Madam Mayor. Gently."

Regina slips one hand into position, thrilled at the extra stimulation, and a little apprehensive of what Emma might still have planned. Emma withdraws her fingers, trading them for the thumb of her other hand and Regina's breath hitches in anticipation. Oh. They've discussed this, when Emma insisted her price for licking Regina to orgasm was a recitation of all of Regina's most private fantasies (and they really better hope that nobody has bugged the Sheriff's office after that iconversation/i). This was one that Regina confessed to, with flaming cheeks and an approaching climax, but the topic hasn't arisen since.

That thumb, coated in Regina's wetness, is now circling her other opening, pressing lightly and then easing away. She can barely breathe as it is, but when Emma sinks the original two fingers back inside her pussy to set up a delicious counterpoint, Regina concedes that she might be losing what's left of her mind.

Panting, almost delirious, and reveling in the feel of Emma leaning over her as her hands work in chorus with Regina's own, Regina comes so hard she almost blacks out. The world comes rushing in at the edges, and for a second she panics, because the encroaching darkness is eerily familiar. It recedes though, as she mutters expletives against her dayplanner. Emma is breathing hard too, slowly extricating herself from Regina's exhausted body.

"I'll... you. In...inaminute," Regina slurs, incapable of better speech.

"I have to go," Emma says, with what sounds like a frankly superhuman amount of willpower. It's enough to spur Regina into standing, naked and incredulous.

"You iwhat?/i" Regina splutters. This little date is supposed to be an all-evening affair. She cleared her schedule especially, even paying Ruby to babysit, much against Regina's better judgment.

"Town business," Emma shrugs, picking up Regina's fallen clothing piece by piece and tossing it at her. "You know how that is."

"I am the town, Miss Swan," Regina points out. "And whatever you have to do can wait, if I say so. And I do. Say so."

Emma stares her down for a moment, before picking up Regina's panties and stuffing them into the pocket of her jeans.

"You should learn how to be patient," Emma says mockingly. "Give me an hour, and then come get your underwear back."

"Where will you be?" Regina asks, pretending to be engrossed in fastening her bra.

"You'll work it out," Emma says as she strides towards the door. Regina doesn't miss the slight stumble in her step though; Emma's more turned on than her bravado will let her admit. "But don't be late. One hour. And you can bet you'll be showing your appreciation for what I've just done to you."

"You sound very sure of yourself," Regina snaps, shrugging her blouse back on. "What makes you think I'll do anything you say?"

"Experience," Emma says as she opens the door. "That, and the fact that you can't get enough of me."

With that, she's gone, and Regina already knows that she's going to follow. The question, it seems, is just how far.