"You like this," Emma whispers, and her voice crackles like magic in the air, the magic she still has to pinch herself over, because she can't quite believe that it's real. The Sheriff's station looks as drab and eighties as it ever did, but Regina's sitting on a desk and that's enough to transform the whole room. The fact that her panties are already off and shoved in Emma's jacket pocket certainly doesn't hurt, either.

Regina makes a dismissive noise in the back of her throat but her body is straining towards Emma in a way that suggests she likes this very much indeed.

"You like that I protect you," Emma decides on a kiss, pressed against the silky skin of Regina's scarcely-exposed thigh. "You like that I stand between you and the mob. You like that I'm not scared of your mother."

"Mmm," is Regina's cautious response, her nostrils flaring at the mention of Cora. It's like she doesn't want to look directly at Emma for too long, as though that would mean finally admitting something. Well that is not going to fly, not when Emma is every bit as confused by this weird energy that plagues their every conversation and causes all these loaded glances and lingering touches that should never, ever be allowed to happen in the first place.

She kisses that soft thigh once more, open-mouthed and with a warning graze of teeth. Her lips skim the top of Regina's stocking and that's enough to make Regina arch her back, so Emma knows that this is happening. Something has changed between them as Emma kneels on the cracked floor tiles she's paced on countless times, usually cursing about Regina's latest scheme to ruin her life. This Regina, who shivers just a little and parts her thighs to welcome Emma's touch, is a different thing altogether.

Which means, Emma tells herself, that she's definitely getting a real kiss. She's been secretly fantasizing about (and then denying) the almost unbearable appeal of Regina's mouth for longer than she can admit to herself. And honestly, all this fairytale crap about true love and magical kisses makes her lips tingle sometimes.

She stands and braces herself on Regina's knees, using that contact to pull Regina closer as she sits on the cluttered surface of the desk. It's not exactly shocking when Regina takes that opportunity to wrap her legs around Emma, effectively trapping her. Well, it's not like there's anywhere else Emma wants to be right now, anyway.

Before she gets her kiss, Emma takes Regina's face in her hands. Regina leans into the touch slightly, resting her cheek against Emma's hand. Regina's cheek is satiny to the touch, and she smells faintly of makeup beneath the expensive perfume that Emma's gotten so used to smelling almost every day. She notices Regina's lipstick is all but worn away, and kisses her anyway.

It does not disappoint, Emma thinks as she feels her head start to spin. Regina kisses with the kind of thoroughness and quiet desperation that Emma should have expected, and she realizes then that she has a fight on her hands to retain any semblance of control here.

There's an edge to the kiss too, when Regina captures Emma's bottom lip she isn't afraid to bite down, and Emma thinks maybe she should be a little embarrassed at how loudly that particular move made her moan. So much for keeping her cool and being the one to finally break the Evil Queen's frosty fa├žade.

She lets her mouth wander to Regina's proud jaw, fully intent on kissing her way along until she can suck on Regina's earlobe; but Emma is stopped in her tracks by Regina's hands wrapping around her wrists.

"Wait," Regina murmurs against Emma's face. "Let me, for once."

Emma actually pulls back a little in surprise at that.

"Let you what?" She teases.

"Take care of you," Regina says, blushing at the admission. Emma's searching desperately for some telltale sign of a lie, or a trick, but finds nothing other than heavy-lidded sincerity in Regina's face. Regina guides Emma's hands until they're wrapped around Regina's waist, and they resume their kissing in a much more frenzied way, teeth clashing briefly before their tongues meet once more.

There's a sudden noise from under the window, and when it doesn't die down after a couple of minutes, Regina uncrosses her legs and lets Emma stumble free. Without meeting each other's eyes, they smooth down mussed clothing and hair, trying to erase any evidence of what they've just started. Emma gets into Sheriff mode, picking up her badge and gun from where they sit next to Regina's hip, ready to go out and investigate the disturbance of the late evening peace.

In fact, Emma's too busy getting organized to notice when the noise does finally start to fade, and only Regina's hand on her arm stops her from marching out to confront a group of people already moving on. No doubt Leroy and his boys up to no good again.

Emma doesn't even get a chance to say that much before Regina is on her like a woman possessed, yanking Emma up against metal bars of the cell with surprising strength that feels like it has to have some magic behind it. The badge and gun fall to the floor, instantly forgotten.

She's feeling pretty manhandled (and loses a button, which would really piss Regina off if it were her shirt, but she's been stealing Emma's clothes during the unscheduled fairytale vacation anyway) but Regina's urgency is intoxicating and it's hard to protest when nerve endings all over Emma's body are firing in response to Regina's touch. Her favorite blue shirt is the first casualty of Regina's newfound war on clothing, with that first button popping off, and then the rest being undone with slightly trembling fingers while Regina attacks Emma's neck with her teeth and tongue. It's going to leave marks, and Emma doesn't give a damn.

If the kissing turns Emma on, then it's nothing compared to the first careful touch of Regina's hands over her bra. Emma's nipples betray her in a second, hard under the black lace and Regina's touch, but she's mostly glad about the front clasp when Regina pops it and shows Emma just how much better her touch feels without anything in the way.

Regina's hands make way for her mouth, trailing kisses down Emma's chest and over the curve of each breast in turn. She traces intricate patterns with her tongue too, finding every sensitive inch of skin without yet straying to toy with Emma's nipples. When Regina does take one between wet lips, sucking hard and biting just a little, Emma drops her head back against the cold metal and bites back a yell. She's in sensory overload, and Regina's going to break her completely if this keeps up, but it feels like the kind of collision curse Emma was always supposed to end up on.

That overload isn't helped by Regina's wandering hands, one of which tugging at the stiff buttons on Emma's jeans. Emma knows she should be doing more to return this tidal wave of sensation, but she's too overwhelmed to think of much more than running her fingers through Regina's dark hair, tangling in loose knots and clutching at loose strands. Regina isn't complaining, in fact she seems perfectly content to take care of Emma, just like she said she would. Regina Mills may do many things: make grown men cry for sport, curse an entire kingdom, and crush the occasional heart, but she always follows through-on threats and promises alike.

Emma can tell she's wet, of course, but it isn't until Regina's fingers skim over Emma's panties that she realizes she's already soaked through that scrap of black lace. (The fact that her underwear actually matches today is down to finally having done laundry at the weekend, but it still feels a lot like a miracle.) Her jeans are halfway down her thighs like it's some desperate teenage hookup, but Regina hisses in what seems to be appreciation when she skims her finger over the damp lace, and Emma squirms under her touch. If anyone walks into the station now, hell, even if anyone makes a noise outside again, Emma knows she'll kill that person if it makes Regina stop.

Regina releases Emma's nipple with a gentle pop, kissing her way back to the pulse point at the base of Emma's neck. It's going to take more than borrowed concealer if Regina keeps this up, but it's kind of hard to give a damn. It gets even harder when Regina finally shows some mercy and pulls Emma's panties down, quick and rough. There's no time to think before Regina's slender fingers are tracing the edges of Emma's wetness, a teasing contact that's enough to have Emma ready to beg.

And she knows that she will, if Regina wants her to.

"I shouldn't be doing this," Regina whispers against the column of Emma's throat, and it makes Emma's breath hitch in panic. They cannot, absolutely must not stop now. "An idle fantasy of screwing the enemy; and somehow you've made it real. How do you do that, princess?"

Emma has no answer for her, even if she could form words. She hates being called princess by anyone else, but Regina makes it just enough of an insult to be bearable. Speaking has taken a backseat to the feel of Regina's gentle stroking of her clit, a rhythmic circling that makes Emma's knees weak.

She's already so close, pressed against the bars and trapped in her own half-undone clothing, and she is completely at Regina's mercy. What stuns Emma is how okay she is with that; they've come a long way from trying to kill each other for sport.

"Please," is what she manages to say in the end. Emma doesn't know what she's asking for exactly, but she knows that Regina will give it to her. "Please," and it's a sob this time. She needs to come so badly she could cry. She needs to come before there's another disruption, before Regina rediscovers evil to leave Emma hanging, or Emma wakes up and finds out this is just another fantasy that got out of control when she fell asleep at her desk.

But it isn't a dream, because Emma has never dreamt about the tickling sensation of Regina's breath just beneath her ear. She's never dreamt about seeing Regina pull back just far enough to watch Emma, wanton and seconds from orgasm, writhing against Regina's fingers. And there's nothing even slightly dreamlike about the feeling of Regina finally pressing two fingers inside, where Emma's craving her touch most. Regina curls her fingers like she can read Emma's mind, and that's almost as much as she can take.

It doesn't take long then, because one minute Emma feels the pressure building between her thighs and the next she's crying out against Regina's other hand, which has been slapped carelessly over Emma's mouth. She doesn't care about being quiet, but Regina at least has the sense to stop them advertising this little tryst to any passers-by.

Just as Emma feels like she can breathe again, she feels Regina's fingers move again. Where Emma expected a withdrawal, some muttered embarrassment and an awkward silence, instead she's getting another round. Emma makes herself concentrate on Regina's face-even though she can feel the onset of a second climax-and sees pure lust radiating back at her.

This time, she comes so hard she almost passes out.

She knows Regina is holding her up, and Emma can't resist the impulse to hug while she's caught in Regina's arms. Regina doesn't resist, or complain about creasing her clothes, and there's enough tension in her arms to suggest she's even trying to return the hug, even if it feels totally unnatural. It feels like maybe one of those walls might be starting to crumble, like maybe Emma is the only one who's a little bit broken right now.

When they separate, Emma blushes furiously at the state she finds herself in. She moves to kiss Regina, but Regina moves away. Just as the tears burn in her eyes at this instant rejection, Regina places a soothing hand on Emma's cheek.

"I think we've pushed our luck far enough for one night," Regina explains. "And as delicious as you are like this, I want somewhere more civilized for you to return the favor."

"What makes you think I will?" Emma demands, buttoning her jeans and trying to sound defiant.

"Your nature, of course," Regina mocks. "You people can't possibly leave a score unsettled."

"Whatever," Emma sasses, but she's smiling all the same. "I'm not sure I can walk yet," she adds, leaning back against the bars again.

"Did I break you?" Regina asks in that babying voice she seems to save for taunting Emma.

"I'll live," Emma says, forcing herself to take a couple of uneasy steps so she can grab Regina and whisper in her ear. "But trust me when I tell you that you won't be walking straight tomorrow."

"Promises, promises," Regina sighs. "So, Sheriff... your place or mine?"