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Nothing Serious

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'...nothing serious.'

The words rang out in Emma's mind, resonating in each corner. She alternated between squeezing her eyes shut and staring at the ceiling, hoping one of the two would allow her some peace, but neither brought relief. She felt her heart pounding, thumping, drumming inside her. She clenched her fists and slammed her eyes shut again, waiting for the thoughts to stop. They didn't, but eventually, she was able to drift off to sleep, the darkness of the room comforting her.

In the middle of the night, she woke in a cold sweat, sitting up straight in bed. She'd kicked the covers off in her sleep, and they were half hanging off the bad, dragging on the dirty, creaky wooden floor she hadn't swept in days. Images of passion flashed before her eyes in a strobe light effect, surging in bursts in front of her, playing the same scene over and over. Her lover was crawling on top of her, moving closer at a painfully slow pace. Even watching it again in her mind was agonizing. She felt her core heat up and boil inside, pulsing in a sporadic rhythm.

She crashed back onto her pillow and shut her eyes again. Emma reached between her legs, stroking herself over and over again, gasping and panting louder and louder the longer she persisted. When she was finally spent, and not until then, she opened her eyes. Still, the vision of her lover remained, refusing to leave her be. This time, her lover was mounting her, grinding into her, moaning and breathing heavily. Emma imagined herself screaming with pleasure, bucking up and matching the rhythm of her lover. She refused to shut her eyes. Again, she touched herself, unable to stop her fingers as the thoughts flooded her entire being and gripped her chest, collapsing her lungs.

"Regina," she sighed when she finished.

'...nothing serious.'

Emma gripped her pillow, tightening her hands into fists, digging her nails into the fabric cover, fighting the urge to tear it to shreds with frustration. When she found she couldn't go back to sleep, she rolled over and reached for her cellphone, dialing the number that would connect her with the one person who could satisfy the burning.

"Hey," she said softly. "Can I come over?"

When her car pulled into the driveway, the mayor was waiting for her at the door. Before she even knocked, the door was thrown open, and the other woman stood there with two scotch glasses.

"What's going on?" she asked Emma, handing her one of the glasses.

Emma stepped inside, her body dangerously close to the mayor's. She took the glass gratefully and downed its contents quickly. The burning sensation made her feel alive and reminded her that she was truly awake. The alcohol calmed her nerves a little, but she still felt unsure about her decision to call. Maybe she should have just stayed home. What was she going to say anyway? She suddenly felt bad for waking the woman up in the middle of the night. It was around 4 AM when she arrived in the driveway. But Regina didn't seem phased. In fact, she was shockingly nonchalant, almost as if she'd been expecting Emma to call.

"Nothing," Emma lied. "Can we go upstairs?"

Regina cocked an eyebrow, grinning slyly.

"Oh," she said knowingly. "Is this a booty call, Ms. Swan?"

"Yes."

They ascended the stairs, occasionally looking at each other, one expecting the other to say something. But neither did. They were silent as they slipped quietly into the mayor's bedroom. Regina wasted no time removing Emma's clothes, barely noticing when she tore two of the buttons off of Emma's maroon jacket. Emma looked a little startled, but quickly helped Regina remove the rest of her own clothing. They fell onto the bed, entangled in each others arms, and their lips crashed together in a hungry, passionate kiss.

"I couldn't wait," Emma confessed, breathless.

"I'm glad you didn't," Regina told her.

The made love - once, then twice, then three times - until the sun came up and both were exhausted. When the mayor's clock alarm blasted in Emma's ear at 6:30am, Emma shot out of the bed and scrambled for her clothes.

"Shit!" she hissed. "I was supposed to be on duty at the station a half hour ago."

Regina just laughed and shook her head, asking, "What's the hurry? Nothing happens in Storybrooke."

Emma rolled her eyes, sensing the sarcasm.

"Stay with me," Regina offered. "I'm just barely getting started."

Emma raised an eyebrow, looking the woman over from head to toe, taking in every curve and every detail of her skin, her eyes stopping on her breasts. She was tempted - so tempted - but it wasn't a responsibility she could shirk. No matter how badly she wanted to stay, no matter how badly she wanted to stay and take Regina up on her offer, she knew she had to go. She was gone in a few short minutes, peeling out of the driveway, not taking the time to kiss the mayor on the lips before leaving. This she regretted on the ride to work, and images of their lovemaking washed over every inch of her thoughts. But it was nothing serious, Emma reminded herself, and she tried hard to fight the visions all day. But keeping them at bay proved impossible. Emma was completely enthralled - completely out of control. There was no way to escape the burning sensation she felt between her legs each time she pictured her lover (which was often). Several times during the day, she nearly had to slap herself in order to focus. Only when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, announcing a text message, did she feel some relief.

'Tonight?'

'Absolutely.'