"Come back to bed."
His voice was drowsy, scratching its way through his vocal chords. With little care for the repercussions of her staying, the request slipped off his sleepy tongue easily. The sight of her zipping up the back of her skirt had just filled him with an inexplicable gloominess his brain apparently couldn't take.
Regina glanced back at him over her bare shoulder. She wasn't surprised to find him awake. On the back of his mind, he was sure he could count on one hand the number of times he'd gotten a response out of her she hadn't calmly manufactured.
Bed-headed and aggravatingly gorgeous as ever, her first and only reaction was to scoff. It wasn't meant to despise him, per se; or so he'd rather believe. He'd, in fact, be the one thrown off if she gave him any different treatment.
Not to mention how ambiguous it was to be offended by her manners when she looked so bloody stunning. Robin was not that guy - what was nice on the eye hardly had an effect on him by itself, and her being the screaming exception threw him under some unprecedented spell he in truth despised.
Now there are two things Regina would never know: that she could, and seldom did, offend him, and that other times he was just busy picturing her naked to hear what she was grumbling about.
Stretching over the green sheets of the bed (she hated the color), he briefly rested his eyelids after turning onto his stomach, adjusting his head above the pillow. "Well," he mumbled, "at least don't stand there on your bra and heels if you can be so kind."
Robin imagined the demure smile she had painted on her lips then, probably debating whether there was time on her calendar to taunt or flee. Her mood seemed somewhat approachable when she threw back her own leading reply, pontifying syllables like childish melodies.
"Don't like what you see?"
He scoffed now. Unlike her, he lacked obsessive discipline and acted actively on basic instincts. But he knew she knew the logic behind this loud disbelief had had nothing to do with her words; of course he liked what he saw, and she was sure of that like she was of the sky being blue. Maybe, if he'd tried, he could pretend her question had more to do with low confidence than merciless smugness. Robin almost wished there was a way to regain some upper hand here, shake what she thought to be an irreversible attraction.
As if she didn't know better.
As if he didn't know so much better.
Regina was shoving that truth into his face, regardless of his pride. Which isn't to say that was a shocker, either. He had been expecting her to strut around her perfect legs, smirk telling stories of how she was the winner on this sick game of theirs, indubitably; some display of humbleness hadn't even crossed his mind. It so happened that he'd miscalculated the approach to this tango so early on the day, with his guard down after she'd spent the night and all.
On that note, he instantly found it wiser to step out of the field entirely. The likelihood of actually getting her back into bed was a far shot, but he'd only stand a chance if he could sway her balance a little, and goes without saying that trying to man-up her wouldn't. Robin never felt like reflecting the reasons behind this thrill of walking along the borders of her guidelines, being the pawn of her chessboard that never really stood in place. If it was the fighting or the fucking that preserved the spark between them he couldn't say.
But everything was so much more entertaining when she was around.
Smiling into the pillow, his entire body sprung alert with the prospect of the chase, despite the odds against him. At first, it had merely been an ill-considered weakness, a trick of his sleepy mind.
Now he was irrationally engaged.
"I do like what I see." He admitted, hearing her heels click on the floor without any particular tempo. Turning again onto his back, he leaned his head on the crack of one bent arm, checking her out as though making a point. "If I didn't like it so much we wouldn't be here, I'm afraid."
Regina stood there, raising one perfect outline of an eyebrow, still wearing the laced bra he could have sworn he'd ripped apart last night. Or was it the blouse?
Something changed in her expression, though, snapping his attention off her breasts for now. Dark, huntress eyes tracking his down, she was smirking but there was no humor, her body moving closer in a premeditated rhythm. Behind all the bravado, he could see he'd poked a spot sore enough to have her involved, hazardous as it might be. "Is that it?" She hummed slowly.
Her tone suggested the thought caught her in equal doubt even though it didn't. She leaned over him, both hands on either side of his naked torso, certainly aware of the impacts of this condition. His hooded gaze covered quickly every bit of pale skin, returning later to her vigilant eyes. "Is it only worth it because I'm pretty?" she probed.
Robin sustained her question in silence, a part of him snickering bitterly at her being pretty. Pretty he could handle - pretty he could take out somewhere and act pretty and lit candles and make love.
Pretty wasn't this.
The angry thud of his heart, the stiff, automatic stir on his groin, the way his mind was suddenly replaying every texture of what he'd touched, licked or been against - it was not pretty. He could try and find some word to resume skirts and bras being pushed aside, hands muffling down midday orgasms, office meetings behind locked doors. Dirty, passion, affair - none of that would do.
But certainly neither pretty.
Another side of him, more petty than justified, pressured him to agree with her. Wasn't physical attraction the very essence of what they were doing? He didn't like Regina. Before she fired his overworked ass into the street, he had torn himself apart with fantasies of bending her over her desk and destroying her career for good. Every moment spent with her, dressed or otherwise, drained him. Every tease, every request, every sheer communication had him armed for the battlefield, gut chasing signs to attack or withdrawal.
His relationship with her was too unhealthy for him to possibly like her.
Which isn't to say he hated her either, he guessed. He had known her for what, eight, nine years? Her scorn had at best subsided and he still couldn't make an enemy out of her. She might have taken him his job, but she had also somewhat employed him when no one else would. She might treat him like dirt on her expensive shoes, but she still answered his calls when he was alone in a shitty hotel in Dallas and couldn't sleep because of a broken air-conditioner.
Whatever it was he felt for her, it kept him coming back.
Every time.
"It's certainly not for the chat, I'll guarantee you that." he declared conclusively, firming both elbows onto the bed so he could close the annoying distance separating her lips from his teeth.
All this talking would only make him think and if he did...
Robin wasn't sure he'd like so much what he saw then.
Typically, Regina held no sympathy for this afflictions as she straightened up and away from him, gorgeous jaw set squarely for a millisecond she believed went unseen. In a careless show of his own, Robin sat on the bed and kissed the displayed portion of her waist, sensing the tightening of her abdomen as she addressed him with enough spite to get his attention. "Oh, I think we both know who would you chase for that." she clipped, that way of hers implying anger and indifference distinctively all at once.
Though sooner than her words had settled, his arm was circling her hip and pulling her into the bed, seizing any chance of an escape. She wouldn't see it that way, presumably; she'd misread his insistence for libido, as of most occasions, and that would be it. Pressed against him, sort of riled from the sudden fall, Regina started to brush the messy hair strands off her face, clumsily.
Robin thanked the gods for not sketching a disaster out of his hasty move. He sure as hell didn't need a half-naked and pissed off Regina on top of him because he had somehow hurt her physically.
"Come on now," he patronized as soon as she would object, grinning at the expression of infuriation on her face. Both forearms were wrapped around her body, palms sliding down from the dip of her spine to her ass, aware he was treading dangerous waters here despite the smirk on his mouth claiming the opposite. The odds of her leaving him cold had doubtlessly multiplied in the last minute.
"No need to feel insulted," he patronized. "In my personal assessment, I blame the vile methods of witchcraft to justify your charm." Robin explained, highlighting an effort to sound scientific however ridiculous this bite sounded aloud.
One way or another, she didn't question his maturity this time. She hummed her false understanding instead, flexing the back of her elegant throat and drawing him to press her tighter against his body, this reflex he'd long refused to educate. Her dark lashes were narrowed on him as though to disdain his sense of humor, face so close and wrongly divine he wouldn't mind dropping the pointless banter to simply make out.
Regina, for her part, shared no such urges. "How very European of you," she cynically nodded, ignoring the blare of his unconcealed snicker. "Naming the Devil's work whatever you can't handle."
He shrugged as best as he could from his position, mildly distracted with the task of lowering her zipper that just wouldn't budge. "Worked for every church, ever." he mumbled, staring up at her when one of her hands stopped his crude attempts at undressing her.
Regina smiled, somewhat sweetly, and he did name the Devil's work then. Lowering her lips, he felt the burn of her voice all the way to his guts as she whispered, "Oh, but I'm still here, ain't I?"
Whatever nonsense about to flee out of him didn't matter the moment her mouth made touch with his at last.
For all the patience their exchange may have exercised, Robin faked no composure now. His fingers were spread into the back of her hair, tugging lightly the root her curls as he trapped her lower lip between both of his. Giving up on the zipper entirely, he had another hand gripping behind her thigh that lazily traveled upwards to one full buttcheek, lifting her pencil skirt along the way. Her breasts were smashed into his bare chest, the lace scraping his skin as if it knew he'd rather have it off. So many things about her screamed temptation that he never found it easy to focus in one alone.
So very close to unsnapping the tiny clasp of her bra, Regina snatched her plump, raw lips away from him, catching his gaze once he was able to open his lids. She pulled the short edge of his hair to have him staring at her directly, nose almost touching his as she whined, "I have to go."
"Rubbish- you've said it yourself your schedule's all wonky today" he babbled as if losing her now didn't strike an awful lot like panic.
The protest meant to keep every dirty thought she was having precisely where it was. In typical fashion, that didn't mean he had thought it through.
Here's one conspicuous quality about Regina: she never let things go.
He learned his misstep before she grimaced her lips, stretching her neck away as if physically confronted by his choice of words. "I… Don't even know what you've just said." She moved her head, disgusted.
Robin almost wished he could've kept his trap shut, if the problem in fact was his accent and not in her. Which in turn made him inexplicably confrontational. Commonly so. "I'm quite sure you do."
He hadn't let her go exactly, but the distance amid their torsos had certainly amplified - the moment he'd gone for making an issue out of this. The lesser, muffled parts of him saddened with the inevitable deja-vu of this moment.
She snickered cynically, refuting, "I didn't, actually. Half the time I don't get a word that comes out of your mouth."
Robin smiled as well, however unamused. In the blink of an eye, he found her rather dislikable. The look on her face screamed assurance and entitlement, drawing him to wonder how he'd even managed to move past that visual, to begin with. Wasn't that what the rest of the world saw? A spoiled, know it all Queen?
Redemption or outright dementia couldn't shade the qualities he didn't appreciate, it seemed. He feared he'd never make a human thing out of Regina, whether a poisonous devil or disloyal goddess.
Unsurprised by one flush of hurt, he hid decently behind his own aimless poke. "Now you're just bitter over the country that didn't accept you into their college."
"The one that built their very specimen of a criminal, you mean?"
He took the bite with a straight face, as though he'd been asking for it all along. To reference his record wasn't a low blow any longer, although coming from Regina added an extra layer of venom. If he were to think about it, he could try and count the ones who knew him before and after jail and come up with a lot of fingers left to spare.
Maybe, to some extent, this explained why he couldn't just let her go. Despite this ritual of nasty banter, perhaps the reason he kept magnetizing his way towards her was to hold an uncontested witness of the man he used to be, before his mugshot had colored every paper next to words such as treason and asylum. She knew him before his life had flipped on its axis, and she didn't deny this when he'd been forced to adjust to its new, unrecognizable angle.
The why behind her actions was always beyond him. And however thankful he'd been all those years ago, gratitude couldn't sum up his own justifications about her.
Without a trace of the gratitude that supposedly tied him, he contemplated Regina then. He realized he'd quit excusing being associated with her.
"See? Not for the lovely chat." he settled for eventually, studying her twinkling eyes and finding not an ounce of regret. She was excited, if anything.
One of her hands fell to the side of his shaggy face, thumb tracing it amicably. "Maybe you should text Martha- Mary… What was it again?"
"Marian." Robin spelled out, undoubtful she remembered the name correctly. Lacing her waist, he flipped their bodies so she'd be trapped in the mattress, wishing that'd give him some leverage. Regina's unyielding micro smirk chopped all illusion of that happening. "Can't let that go, can you babe?"
She squirmed under him childishly, bitter eyes faltering. "You're crushing me." she whined while he whispered a kiss over her neck. "And I mean it. Where must she be now? Extinguishing poverty? Rescuing panda bears?"
"Yes, these disgusting people trying to do right-"
"All hail Saint Marian."
He scrunched his face, as annoyed as she sounded now. "You're the one who started this." As you always do, he wanted to complete but didn't. "Not considering you've already pointed to me she was no longer an option, didn't you?"
Regina lifted one dark eyebrow, defiant. "Didn't take that much convincing."
"Yes." he gritted, sensing his face getting hot. "Can we stop talking about it now-"
Her hasty interruption just proved she wouldn't try to tone down this discussion. "I don't know, can we?" She moved her chin upwards, like she weren't under him wearing a bra and a skirt. He wasn't sure whether that made her a lunatic or a mastermind.
"I'm not a consolation prize." she added, moody.
The implication confused him. Was this ever a question for them? If anyone were to console the other, he was sure he'd be the pity fuck. Regina never once gave him the chance to delude himself as to be enough for her. The blunt fact was she could disappear for years and have him crawling to her with one curt text message.
Robin understood that. Pride would serve him no good. Nobody knew about this, naturally, so he was free of any judgmental eye. As obnoxious as it could be, her demeanor towards him hardly struck as humiliation, considering it was all based on one truth: he never resisted her, nor ever tried to.
In the last four eyes, Robin could recall easy flings at bars and two dates that actually took him an effort of a proper dinner. Out of those, Marian had been the only one he'd started to care for, though no trace of passion sketched a compromise out of their personal ambitions. After fifteen days together in a ruined island, Marian had to go serve medical aid someplace else and Robin needed to sell every shot he'd taken of the latest catastrophe in American soil.
The week of his return, Regina's newspaper was one of his primary clients. But she'd wanted to have a drink - and knowing what that meant, he naively stated that he'd met someone new.
He ended the evening having sex with her in the car.
Shaking these thoughts away, he placed his forearm next to her face, taking a hair lock between his thumb and forefinger. He murmured, "Have I ever gave you the impression I wasn't thinking of you? When we're together?"
She focused on him in silence, conceding what he knew to be the answer all along. "That's right" he cooed, letting his thumb drop to her temple, brushing the tiny hairs there. "That's how stupid you sound."
He grabs the hand that aims to smack him, snickering at her face. His lips drop closer to her plump, cherry-colored mouth, and for lesser than a second he wonders what makes the finest women in the universe let him do this. Tired of combat, Robin doesn't talk any longer as he kisses her, confines her upcoming response.
She makes this little moan that catches in the back of her throat and turns him frantic, like having her like this weren't enough. He takes the hand that's not holding her wrist down her breast, tucking it under the bra to mold her soft, warm flesh until his kisses follow him there. Regina sighs as her head dips further onto the mattress, arm free now but still in place. He pushes the cup of the lingerie aside, enough for him to wrap his mouth around one nipple, tongue lapping at it as it stiffens.
Everything blood on him gathers down his crotch, aching and longing like it hadn't been six hours since he'd been inside her. He pushes his hip up involuntarily, moving his lips to her neck again, hissing slightly as her fingers pull at his hair, dragging him to the height of her face. "I wanna make you come." she croaks leisurely, gaze following his every reaction. He pondered in what dimension would he say no.
It took him to concentrate. He licked his lips, too dizzy to banter, trying to hear himself over the incessant drums of his heartbeats. "How?"
She pulls his neck down harshly in response, kissing him until she captured his lower lip between her teeth. He felt the weight of her trying to move him, to which he quietly complied, rolling over onto his back. He blew the air out his lungs slowly as he regarded her on her knees, arms bent backward to unsnap the stupid bra.
She threw the garment on the floor, shifting her attention to the back of her skirt next. Robin whined, "Oh come on" with unhidden frustration. "You're killing me."
"I don't want to ruin it."
He dropped his head back, trying not to look at her at least. But then she was naked and straddling him, smiling faintly. Unearthly gorgeous. "So impatient" she mocked.
Both of his hands drifted to her ass, greedy, just as violent as he knew he could get. She started to lazily grind herself against him, his cock hard and pressed between fabric and her pale thighs. He pulled her upward just enough to have his pajama pants down, groaning when he finally had contact with her skin. Regina pushed herself away from his torso, allowing just that thrusting of her hips to continue, her eyes falling shut for a second before she sighed and opened them, staring at him staring at her. He sighed too, exasperated.
"You don't like that?" she asked.
"I do" he pointed, brushing a hand over the inside of her thigh, going up her belly and breast. He pinched the nipple between his fingers, making himself moan, pathetically. "Love you like this."
She nodded, a controlled gasp escaping her when his cock slid against her clit just right. He was expecting the tease to last longer, but she caught him off guard when her fingers circled him firmly, one foot leaning on the bed to guide him inside her. He felt his mouth twitching awkwardly as he watched her taking an inch of him at a time, her belly fluttering as taut as she did around him. "God, you feel-" he blurted, unable to complete. A part of him always expected her to shut him up, accuse he's ruining her moment.
He waited her accommodate to him, biting his lip and caressing every bit of flesh he could in the meantime. She leaned forward eventually, moaning closer to him that he was so hard, and he couldn't help but jiggle slightly, drawing another broken whimper out of her. "Just like this?" he prodded, and she shook her head lightly before her large eyes snapped open.
"That wasn't the deal," she whispered, starting to slide up and down, all wet and tight and he landed a firm hand on her ass because he suddenly needed something to grip. She worked herself down on him steadily, the muscles of her pussy clenching while her sighs were getting louder. "Just like this?" she mimicked him, not able to finish her laugh because she was gasping, and he just dumb gazed at her, filled with an emotion he couldn't quite name. Just seeing her fuck him, feeling every pulse that he was causing her, he knew he'd do anything she asked of him right then.
Her pace escalated quickly, he could tell she didn't want to drag this any longer from the way she was bouncing and moaning and tucking a hand between their bodies to touch herself. He pleaded, unrestricted "I don't want this to end."
She cried out against his cheek, every section of her body growing tenser. "I can't… I'm gonna-" He grunted as she started coming, helping her motions with his hands to make her feel as good as she did now for the longest. She was still moaning, her voice husky and croaked and the hottest thing on earth before she halts her shifts entirely, just clutched all around him, nails digging deep into his shoulder. She flexed and shifted, whimpering and pressing against him, still hard in the aftermaths of her climax. She kissed him with a smile on her lips, hazy-eyed and just nudging him inside her. Her mouth brushed over his stubble and neck, sucking the burning flesh gently. "I'm so wet now."
The hand on her ass kneads it tighter, adjusting her slightly on top of him and almost crossing over the edge. "Yes, gorgeous… So hot…" he whispered, hearing his voice come out lower and heavier than he was used to. He rest his eyes for a second, enjoying her kisses and her snug warmth keeping him in that place between pleasure and pain.
"Maybe you'd like me to turn around?" She wondered, nipping at his skin and bobbing just a little on his cock. "Have you looking at my ass as I take you?" His hips jerk upward involuntarily, the weight down his loins heavier and heavier, her voice a dream-like soundtrack on his brain. "Do you like watching me?" he nods, thinks the dirtiest replies to her, but the second she finds another angle he comes, gripping her thigh and back and hair and every cell on his body ends burning itself alive.
He drops a breathless kiss on her shoulder, loosening the grip on her body when he realizes how strong he was holding her. They have a beat of silent kisses and fading quivers before she moves out of him, falling down at his side.
"Breakfast?" Robin asked, eventually.
She turned to him with droopy, yet tender eyes. "I'm going home to change anyway."
"You don't trust I can make coffee?"
That made her eyes roll up as she sat up, no longer at ease. "I just don't want whiskey for breakfast, that's all."
Robin ignored her, clearly amused. He'd just figured something. "You uncomfortable with this." he accused, scanning her put on her panties and bra. "We fuck bareback and breakfast is what bugs you."
He hears the door of the bathroom shut noisily. Sprawled on the bed, he dreads the return to the real world just as he picks up his cellphone, grimacing at the notifications. When Regina came back she was already wearing her blouse, somehow, and picked up her skirt above the nightstand.
The intimacy was gone, as standard. He didn't feel like risking a tease escalating to an irrational argument, so he silenced, sitting up on the bed and pulling his charcoal cotton pants up.
Regina walks closer to him, one heel on her hand. She leans on his shoulder as she puts it on. "You're still on the governor case?"
"Yes, milady."
Both feet on the ground, she appeared about to comment on this but changed her mind. "Thanks for the lead." she murmured, face giving no clue as to what she might be saying between the lines.
But he didn't bother with pretenses. "Any day."
Regina smiles.
And although Robin has an urge to step out the threshold to watch her leave, he doesn't.
Even if it means he'll call her again tonight.
A/N: Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!