A/N: Written for the Love, From OQ Valentine's gift exchange, for my the lovely Alexia ( _notsoevilqueen). This is from the Signed, Sealed Delivered verse, first Valentine's Day after they get back together. :)

They don't celebrate Valentine's Day.

Not usually, anyway.

Regina had never been much for any holiday that wasn't Christmas. Robin had slowly chipped away with that — first with Thanksgiving, then with Halloween, followed by the Fourth of July. Easter had been a hard sell, until a two year old Roland toddled on chubby legs around Mary Margaret's backyard, searching for eggs hidden by the Easter Bunny. She hadn't been able to resist his smile, and giggles, and absolute delight in the magic of the holiday. So he had won Easter.

But Valentine's Day comes with its own particular hard memories, and he realizes how it hits her and all her insecurities hard. As a child, her school would exchange Valentine's Day cards and gifts and candy. For a few years, her classmates would fill her desk and cubby with treats and valentines. But Regina could only offer them a card in exchange, if she had the time to make something homemade out of construction paper in time..

Because Cora did not allow candy in the house, and certainly didn't allow Regina to bring in such things for other children. There's nothing more ironic than a holiday that celebrates love filled with treats that only serve to wreck your figure and make you entirely unlovable. That Valentine's Day mantra was repeated often in the Mills household, grilled into her from a young age. Any candy Regina was gifted with on that day was sniffed out by Cora in some way or form, and all the delightful heart-shaped candies and chocolates covered in bright pink and red wrappers were dumped into the trash.

It didn't take long until her classmates stopped giving Regina a gift altogether. Now, when she thinks back on it, she knows it wasn't cruelty that had them skipping her. It's just that they had probably known she could never reciprocate, and possible knew she could never truly enjoy the gifts she was given (she was too afraid to even eat candy at school, for fear Cora would smell the chocolate on her breath). So perhaps the children skipped over her for her own good, not realizing that being left out just reminded her of how isolated, how lonely her life was.

There had been one year, in sixth grade, when a sweet little boy named Jeff gave her a homemade card. There were scraps of lace pasted together messily in some heart shaped form with the words "Will you be my Valentine, Regina?"

She had loved it had gleefully accepted his offer. They were attached at the hip for about a week, until her mother found the Valentine's Day card, hidden under her bed. She ripped it up in front of her before forbidding her to see the boy again.

"He's a vile boy, Regina." Cora had told her, "his parents are in and out of jail. I believe he's in foster care now. He's no one you should be talking to."

She ignored the holiday altogether after that, took a sick day from school if possible, could not look at homemade cards or valentine's day candies without feeling sick to her stomach, and her idiot mother had added fuel to the fire.

As she entered her teenage years, she continued to let her mother down on the holiday with her particular lack of suitors.

"When I was fifteen, I had seven boys ask me to the sweetheart dance," Cora had bemoaned. "And here you are, fifteen and no boys take an interest in you. I do wonder if you're a bit too bold and manish in your ways, men don't like that, you know.

And maybe she was right, except….her senior year in high school Daniel found her, and he was every bit as enchanted with her so-called manish and bold ways.

But Daniel's father had died on Valentine's Day, so while she dated him, they fueled each other's hatred of the holiday, resolute to never celebrate something so manufactured and idiotic.

After they broke up, she carried the hatred with her.

She's shared all of this with Robin, she's shared so much more lately. They started therapy immediately after New Years and it's amazing how much he still had to learn from her, and how much she still had to learn from him.

So he gets it. Understands why she hates the holiday.

But the thing is, Robin is a romantic. And the other thing is, they haven't even been back together for two months yet, and they are still very much in a honeymoon phase of sorts, and he has this persistent need to constantly dote on her. And hell, Valentine's Day is all about doting, isn't it?

And he really just wants to give her a good Valentine's Day. He can't give her everything she deserves in this world, but he can at least give her good memories to replace bad ones.

So when he approaches the subject he's unsurprised when she shoots it down immediately.

"Please," he begs, wrapping arms loosely around her waist as he nuzzles into her hair. It's a bit unfair of him, using these soft touches that she loves and still craves constantly after their separation, but he's never been much for playing fair.

"We've never celebrated Valentine's Day before," Regina points out, "why ruin a good thing? It's working for us so far."

"We didn't celebrate Valentine's Day last year, and it was miserable," Robin reminds.

He's got her there, if the look on her face is any indication.

But then she groans, an exasperated little thing. "It's such a sappy holiday, and the restaurants jack the price fix menus up to ridiculous levels, and..."

"And there will be pink champagne, no doubt, and pathetic little rose petals everywhere, and every woman will be in a red dress….including you, I hope…" He's never smiled as broadly as he has now, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. She shakes her head and lifts it up to look at him like this, shit-eating grin and all, and she releases a smile before she can try to hide it, tucking her chin back down into her neck, but still easing into his hand, which has moved to stroke her cheek.

"I want to do this." He says just above a whisper, rubbing little circles around her cheek with his thumb, "We were apart for a year and I just….I want to give you everything. I want something good to come out of that bad year. But it doesn't have to be this. I won't push you, Regina."

She hums gratefully and lays her head against his shoulder. "Let me think on it a bit."

When she picks Roland up from daycare on Friday, he's giggling excitedly about a Valentine's Day project for next week, and she feels her resolve crumble.

When Robin comes home, he finds his son and wife poured over a kitchen table filled with lace doilies, glitter, construction paper, glue sticks, markers and safety scissors..

He chuckles a bit, drawing her attention towards him. She meets his eyes and tries hard to keep her own laughter at bay, rolling her eyes in defeat.

"Daddy! We're making Valentine's Day cards for all my friends! Do you see? Momma showed me how to cut a perfect heart, you fold the paper like this, and then you…"

Roland is still giving him the Valentine's Day tutorial, but Robin can't help but look up to meet Regina's eyes.

She nods her head slowly, shrugging her shoulders. "Fine," she whispers. "You win."

"Do I?" He asks, sliding next to her, grabbing some cotton balls to add to a particular card Roland is making. This activity should keep him occupied all weekend what with the attention and time he gives to each card.

"Mmhm," Regina says, bumping her hips against his. "You may take me out to a cliche Valentine's evening full of manufactured romance and watered-down champagne. Assuming you can even find a place that takes reservations this late of notice."

"I might have made a reservation earlier," he smiles, "you know, just in case."

.::.

He had been lucky enough to secure a babysitter for Valentine's Day - two in fact. Elsa and Anna aren't celebrating the holiday, and decided to spend it together and do some sisterly bonding. Time with an excited toddler seemed perfect. Plus that ride-sharing service just added a delivery option in the city, so Robin and Regina's home comes with the offer of takeout from some of the best restaurants in the city.

They show up with an overnight bag that has Robin a bit curious and asks what exactly they had planned for the night.

"Just in case you need it," Anna says quickly, pointing to the overnight bags. "I mean not that you'd need it, because you can just come home to have sex, but—" she flushes and cringes, as Robin tries to bite back a smile, "I mean just in case you want to spend time alone without Roland getting you up at the crack of dawn, or waking up at the slightest noise — oh god! Not that you'd be making a lot of noise, that's not how I picture you two — oh no, no I don't picture you two at all, I mean, I picture you two, just not doing that is what I'm saying…you know what? Just forget I said anything" Anna hides her face in her hands and starts to walk away.

"Anna?" Robin calls out, before she leaves the room.

"Yeah?" she asks, in that meek little voice that she seems to revert to when her natural chattiness lands her into these situations.

"Thank you very much for watching Roland tonight. He's been looking forward to it all weekend. And thanks for the other offer too. But I don't think we'll be needing it."

It's not that he hasn't thought of getting a hotel. Because Anna, poor Anna, is right. Well, partially. Roland gets up early, but that doesn't bother him as much. He sleeps like the dead, too, and that should mean they don't have to worry about waking him up with every little noise... but… well, they can be loud, and Regina is always acutely aware of the fact Roland is down the hall, and tends to muffle all the beautiful moans and curses that can spill so freely from her when they are alone.

But he only just got back home a few weeks ago, and he's not ready to spend a night in a bed that's not theirs. He loves coming home to that house everyday, seeing his family whole, and then retiring every evening to their bed, where he belongs again.

Dr. Hopper has actually recommended they take a vacation of all things, just the two of them, to talk and really reconnect. He understands what they are feeling more than anyone - how they are incredibly happy but still very aware of the misery they suffered last year, how scared both of them are to reach that place again. So they've talked about it, but Robin isn't really ready to leave home yet. Even if it's with Regina, it just doesn't feel right. And that's understandable, Dr. Hopper says, so they are taking that slowly.

Anna's too mortified to say much of anything to Robin, so it's Else who speaks up next. "Just a heads up — in case you get home too late, you may find us sleeping in your guest room."

It's not really a guest room, it's a tiny, windowless study with a couch that turns into a sofa bed, but it's an amazing sofa bed with a memory foam mattress, and that's something at least.

Robin thanks them again and grabs a strategically hidden bouquet of purple dahlias and calla lilies and heads upstairs.

Regina's given him permission to do valentine's day completely cliche, but the thing of it is he wants her to like this holiday, not just tolerate it, not to enjoy it in some sort of ironic sense, but to really like it. So he's going to do it her way. And she is not roses and hallmark cards.

He knocks on the bedroom door, which confuses Regina. "Yes?" she calls out, "I'll be right down, I'm just…"

She opens the door while one hand still fiddles with a pearl earring.

"God you look good," she mutters, as her eyes travel down his body. He's wearing a suit she likes, the midnight blue one with a crisp white shirt, and he anticipated this reaction, but somehow he can't find it himself to say a god damned thing.

Because fucking christ, she's wearing the dress. The dress he's imagined her in countless times since she wore it this past July, when he couldn't have her.

His mouth goes dry and he swallows hard as he stares at the slit in her dress, where a zipper hangs, ready to exposure more flesh should he only pull it in the right direction.

Maybe dinner was a bad idea. Maybe they don't need to leave this room for awhile.

"Cat got your tongue?" She asks through a sinful smile, teeth catching at her bottom lip while she continues to smirk at him.

He reaches for her and she backs up just a bit, but her body language is easy to read, she wants this, she's playing with him.

"Robin…" she warns, "we don't have time for this…" she steps further into their bedroom as he walks through it, slamming the door behind him and dropping the bouquet of flowers on the floor in front of it. "You'll ruin my makeup…" he threads fingers through her hair, and she moans, tilting her head against his touch adding a half hearted "and my hair, this took some work…"

And that's the last thing she says before she meets his lips halfway for a heady kiss. His hands explore over her body as he continues to walk her backwards until her head hitsthe wall behind her.

He turns his attention to her neck, dropping open mouthed kisses there as a hand wanders to the zipper of her dress, tugging lightly, as if asking if she will grant him access.

Regina swallows hard, looking conflicted for a moment before she gives a little nod, granting him permission to pull that zipper. But he's barely so much as moved it when he hears Anna's voice.

"Guys? Where did you say the playdoh was?"

He feels her shiver as he chuckles against the kiss dampened skin of her neck, and she joins him in sexually frustrated laughter.

Regina shouts out directions on where to find the playdoh as Robin makes his way to the ensuite to wipe off burgundy shade of lipstick now covering his face. And she reapplies her own makeup, smoothes her tousled hair, and rights her rucked up dress.

He hands her her fallen bouquet before they step out of the bedroom.

She makes over them, and tells him he did good, that this might be one of the most beautiful bouquets she's ever gotten. "No roses, though" she adds, "isn't that bad luck, to part with such a Valentine's tradition?"

"We make our own traditions," he murmurs into her ear, "this is our day."

.::.

.

When the cab pulls up to the Iron Gate, she knows Robin has planned this day for awhile. The place had probably filled up with reservations by New Year's day.

She raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, and he can only shrug sheepishly.

"You knew I was a sap when you met me," he snarks.

"Mm, I did," she gives, threading her fingers through his as they enter the restaurant.

She can't blame him for wanting to give her a good Valentine's Day. It's sweet and thoughtful and so very Robin. And so far, he had nailed it, from the flowers, to that suit he's wearing, right down to the way he had almost convinced her to have a quick, half-dressed fuck with Elsa and Anna downstairs. Something that, as it so happens, is still playing through her mind.

But they've got hours before they can satisfy their craving for that, so she will just have to get her libido in check and enjoy some of the best food in the city.

Of course, he looks good enough to eat (smells just as good) and hey, that look isn't helping, the one where he appears like he is thinking of devouring her whole as well.

She still hates Valentine's Day and all it's cliches, but god, how she loves her husband.

.::.

Dinner is going….perfectly. He's loved evenings out like this, where they can just talk and flirt - he loves and appreciates these moments even more since they got back together. They are still very much behaving like newlyweds, where every little move the other makes is somehow mesmerizing and electric. Just holding hands, just brushing fingertips across palms, is exciting and arousing, and they are really in a state, aren't they?

They are supposed to talk about things other than Roland during these moments. At least, that's what Dr. Hopper has said. It's part in response to Regina's (completely irrational) fear that Robin may just have come back for Roland's sake. It's very Regina to think that, she never sees how magnificent she truly is, how wonderful she is separate from being an amazing mother. And he's intent on showing her.

So they talk about politics, and movies, and work between flirtatious glances and innocent touches that feel anything but innocent.

"I'm thinking...after we finish dinner, we can maybe head for a nightcap?"

She's had a cocktail before dinner, and plenty of wine since, so despite how good another cocktail sounds, she cannot help but joke "Trying to get me drunk, Mr. Locksley?"

Her tongue slides along her bottom lip, and he's drawn to the movement. Her foot is stroking up and down his leg under the table, and it feels so mind-numbingly erotic he can hardly breathe.

"You shouldn't call me that in public," he rasps, "at least you shouldn't say it like that…"

"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Locksley…"

"You're going to get us kicked out of a very nice restaurant," Robin warns, his voice strained, "because of you keep that up I am going to have to fuck you in the bathroom until you scream."

She looks just as affected as he is by the thought of that.

"Maybe we should just go home," she says in an anxious whisper, "I need you."

He doesn't know where he finds the resolve, but he insists, "Dessert first."

She pouts in that beautiful way of hers, and he leans over and whispers "It's just as well, I won't be able to get up from this table anytime soon."

.::.

He doesn't know why he even picks up the phone when it rings. Regina is in the bathroom, not in front of him where the thought of entertaining anything that's not his beautiful wife is dulled, so he hits the answer button while on autopilot.

"What is it, Killian?"

"Hey, mate, just making sure you dropped your key off and got the rest of your things?

Shit. He still hadn't completely cleared out the spare room he had used while he and Regina had separated. And Killian had found himself a new roommate, due to move in tomorrow.

"Sorry man, I forgot. I'll stop by tomorrow morning."

"Well, the thing of it is…" Killian groans, "I told him where the key is, and the man's moving in before work tomorrow. 5 AM. And I'm out for the night, I won't be there to let him in. I told him where I told you to put the key…"

"God damn it," Robin groans, "can you tell him to wait until 7 am?"

"He rented a moving truck, mate."

Well fuck. He hangs up the phone with a grimace. He's going to have to get up at 4AM tomorrow morning.

"Who was that?" Regina asks, sliding into the seat in front of him.

Robin holds up the offending key on his keychain. "Killian. I forgot to drop off the key, and the new roommate is moving in tomorrow morning. And of course, Killian's out of town, sooo, I'll have an early morning tomorrow."

"Don't be ridiculous, his place is practically down the street," she argues, and okay, she's right, it may be just about half a mile to Killian's, but he won't make her walk that in heels, and frankly, he'd rather not add any time between now and getting that dress off her body.

"Killian's out for the night, right?" Regina asks musing, "We can have a nightcap there."

Bless this woman and her good ideas.

.::.

They behave more like college students in love, stopping on street corners to kiss, pulling each other into darkened corners to make out in the cold night air. Robin can't stop grabbing a handful of her ass whenever they are waiting at a stoplight, can't help himself from slamming her against the sides of office buildings, and when they hit a residential street, he's pulling her off the sidewalk, behind shrubbery her against an old, expensive brownstone.

"You must be cold," he murmurs as he kisses her neck, as his hands skim up her thighs, "but thank you for all this bare leg."

His hands roam up the slit in her skirt, and she doesn't even care that there are people walking by. Right now, they are in a darkened corner, and it's Valentine's Day, what could be more cliche (and expected) than a little bit of PDA?

As his hand skims the underside of satin panties she knows are dampened with her arousal, she realizes this is quickly headed to the point of no return.

"Robin…" Her voice comes out like something between a moan and a plea.

His fingers are still teasing her lightly as he pulls her into a kiss, and she starts to rock into his hand, seeking more friction, more pleasure.

"I need to come." It's a desperate whine, but fuck it, she doesn't care right now. She needs him.

"Do you want me to make you come now, darling?" Robin asks, his touches growing more deliberate and firm and ungodly wonderful.

It's tempting. But she doesn't think she can come like this, with street noise nearby and the fact that they are semi-visible from the sidewalk.

"Not here." she says, "but… Killian won't be back until tomorrow morning, right?"

It should be laughable, planning a romp at their friend's apartment, but nothing is laughable now, when they need each other so badly they can hardly behave rationally (contemplating a quick fuck behind some sparse shrubbery on a crowded DC street is hardly the smartest idea they've ever come up with), so he just nods, and takes her arm, leading her back to the sidewalk.

"We're close," he says, referring to the short distance from Killian's.

But she never can resist a good opportunity for a sexual innuendo. "Yes," she replies. "I am."

He lets out the faintest hint of a laugh, and then curses when he looks at her.

"Christ, don't keep reminding me or we'll never make it. I felt it, you felt so good…"

"Keep walking Robin."

He groans in protest, but does not stop.

.::.

He slams the door to Killian's place with a bit more force than necessary, but, hell, circumstances warrant a bit of force, and he knows she likes that. It's been too long since they have made love like this, anything other than the quiet muffled moans and soft adjustments in a bed they are careful not to squeak too loud.

Now she's sighing and groaning in earnest, without the need to bite down every sound. He could draw this out, but they've been teasing each other all night, and frankly he needs the relief every bit as much as she does. He pulls the zipper over her body, slowly, and then slides his hand up that slit in her dress, until he's cupping her sex, feeling her warm, soaked panties as she rocks into his palm.

They groan in unison at the contact, and he's sent into overdrive, wants her so bad he has a mind to just forego foreplay for now and rip those panties off and fuck her right here, up against the wall in Killian's apartment.

But they have precious little alone time, and he shouldn't waste the gift of having her in a childless home, so he draws it out a bit longer, lets her grind into his hand as he nips and sucks at her neck, pausing to claim her lips occasionally.

"Touch me," she begs, as she makes quick work of untying his tie and divests him of his jacket.

"I am," he rasps back into her ear before nibbling her earlobe in that way that always makes her shiver. He's touching her, his hands are all over her, but he knows what she wants, and he's not quite ready to give it up.

"Robin…." she groans, and her hands fly down to her waist, as she tries to pull off the scrap of satin between her legs.

He stills one of her hands with his free one. "I need to take my time with you tonight. While I have you all to myself."

She seems to get the idea, and nods, closing her eyes and feeling as he continues to torture her.

He's still able to touch her in a way that has her panting and gasping, and clawing at him, has her rocking into his touch, wetting his hand through the fabric as he rubs his thumb right where she needs him.

"I want you," she moans, "please, just, can I…just have…"

She sounds desperate, and beautiful, and looks like a fucking angel, and he doesn't want her to come without his skin on hers, so he relents. "What do you want?" he asks, pulling at the second zipper to take the dress completely off her body. "Tell me, anything you want."

She's in some stunning lingerie and heels now, the black contrasts so well with her creamy skin, even though it's a tad flushed at this point. He loves her like this. Loves her every way.

She grabs his hand and moves it where she needs him, moving her panties aside, not even bothering to take them off. The second his fingers touch her she throws her head back and moans, and yes, they're both a bit riled tonight, thank god, because he can hardly contain himself.

She's soaked, and warm, and ready, and his resolve crumbles completely as he feels himself sinking to his knees.

He parts her legs and pulls down her panties quickly, and then his tongue is on her, lapping up the evidence of how much she wants him, and it thrills him in a way he cannot quite put into words.

"Fuck," she moans, thrusting her hips against his mouth, "god, I — oh! — have wanted this— mm!- all night."

"Me too," he mutters, before swiping his tongue between her folds and darting inside her in quick little laps. "Thought about tasting you all night."

"God….Robin, you feel...oh, god, please don't stop, I need you, need…"

He has missed hearing her like this, wild and free, without worrying about waking Roland, or embarrassing themselves with the neighbors they share walls with. Killian's neighbors are used to these sounds, after all, so it doesn't matter that she's panting and groaning and spilling out curses while he fucks her with his tongue.

Her hand flies to his head, and she's a bit aggressive, pulling his hair to anchor him where she wants him, keeping him close to her, and it's heavenly, so unbearably sexy he thinks that if he didn't actively resist it, he could come like this, come between her legs, with her growing wetter, her juices dripping down his chin, as he eats at her.

"Fuck, Robin, god….don't stop!"

She starts to bend over, and for a second he thinks she's lost her balance and is about to fall, so he uses a hand to hold her up by the waist as he continues to eat her.

"I need you fingers, Robin, please, your fingers, so close, god, I want you…"

He doesn't deny her that, not when he knows she's seconds from coming apart, damn near close to collapsing, the anticipation making her needs more acute, so he gives her that, slipping two fingers inside her, angling into her like she needs, and starts to pump while his tongue draws patterns over her clit.

She's already fluttering, those little tremors that mean she barely has time before she comes, which is good, because fuck, the second she comes he's going to fuck her, and frankly as good as he's trying to be, he has been wanting to be inside her since the moment he saw her in that dress.

She presses both hands on top of his head and leans over him, knees buckling, shouting now, "I'm gonna — I'm gonna, please don't don't don't stop I'm fuck, Robin!"

She's a walking aphrodisiac, but especially here, between her legs, where her taste and smell and touch is overwhelmingly sexy, she never fails to turn him on to the point of pain, and this time is no exception.

"Fucking Christ, darling," he moans, as he continues to savor the remnants of her orgasm, "You've no idea how good you taste."

"Mm, I...have heard, ahh, heard that." she's still riding it out, her eyes closed and a serene little smile on her face. He loves that look, that post-coital bliss she gets, and now he envies it, because he is achingly hard and needs her.

She squeaks when his tongue flicks against a now oversensitive clit, and tugs at shoulders, urging him up. He goes willingly, lifting himself up from the floor and wrapping arms around her. He's straining in his slacks, pressing up against her to feel something, for fuck's sake he needs to be touched too, but he also has a swelling in his chest and a need to shower her in affection. she chases his lips, leads him into a passionate, deep kiss that does little to calm the pulsing need in his belly.

.::.

She still feels her heart pounding in her chest, little tremors of pleasure still waving over her body, her clit still so sensitive, even as his leg just brushes against her as he kisses her. She came hard, and after hours of teasing and anticipation, the release had been a fucking godsend. But she wants him again, right now. She knows Robin is feeling the same, based on the way he was looking at her the whole night. It's been like this since they got back together, like all those pent up emotions — the trauma of almost losing each other, the overwhelming love and renewed appreciation they have for one another had all transformed into insatiable desire. They still could not get enough of each other.

She fiddles with buttons and buckles as their lips meet hurriedly, frantic little whimpers from both of them spilling into the kiss as she undresses him. Once the last piece of clothing is off, she wraps a hand around his erection, and just the contact has him hissing sharply and thrusting into her palm.

She loves him this way, all riled up and unable to control himself around her. Eventually things will die down a bit, return to "normal". The passion will not burn quite so white hot. But for now it's there, and she plans on relishing every ounce of it.

"I want you," she moans into his mouth between wet, tongue-filled kisses.

"I need you," he pants, his hands fisting at her ass, pushing her towards him.

She spins in his arms, so she is facing the wall she had just been pinned against. She thrusts her ass out and braces arms against the solid brick.

"This way," she orders in a breathy sigh, "right now."

She can't see him from this angle, so she misses the way her words cause his head to fall back and his eyes shut tight. Still, she hears his grateful moan and his Thank fucking god.

.::.

He should go slow. He should absolutely not waste one of their first opportunities to have loud, uninterrupted sex by popping off within minutes of being inside her, but four hours of foreplay has him unable to think of anything else besides the sweet relief of coming inside her.

She's still in those god damned heels, elbows bent against the wall, back arched and ass out for him, and he doesn't think he's ever seen a sight so fucking gorgeous. He swallows thickly and grips her hip while he guides himself inside her with his free hand.

Fuck, she's soaking wet and so, so warm and tight around him. He had wanted to go slowly, but as soon as he gets a taste of her, it's absolutely addicting, absolutely irresistible, and he's thrusts in deep and hard.

"Fuckkk!" he bites hard at his lip and sucks in a breath, some desperate attempt to gain control before he lets his mind wand too far on how perfect she feels wrapped around him, how it's like she's made just for him. He gives himself a second, shutting his eyes when she wiggles her perfect ass, trying to get him to move, trying to ignore her beautiful sex-laced voice as she asks him to Fuck me hard (she knows how close he is, she knows she's playing a dangerous game now).

He waits until he feels himself centered, until he initial strong current of pleasure ripples through him and dies down into a more tolerable hum, and then he lets out his breath in labored pants, and starts thrusting inside her.

She lets out a little squeak, a throaty, satisfied Thank god, and arches into each thrust.

"God you look...so good like this," he moans, reaching to cup and squeeze her ass firmly (fuck, his wife has an amazing ass, how the fuck did he resist her for as long as he did?)

She shifts a bit on stilettoed feet, adjusting to him, getting the angle just right. And he can feel when it just clicks into place, by the way her muscles just contract around him, the way she is now crying out with each thrust, how she's so wet she's practically dripping down his body.

He feels those sparks igniting and swirling deep in his belly, and he knows he has to change things, change the speed, or the angle, because soon…

He slips out of her, still pulsing with desire, and tries to replace himself with hands and fingers, but she squirms and whines in protest.

"Robin, I want your cock. Now, please, I need it, God! Please.." She's moaning and writhing, rocking into his palm as he fucks her with two fingers from behind, and he knows it's not enough, and god damn it, he can't stop looking at her, how amazing she looks from this angle, the way she's slamming into his hand, her perfectly round ass, and...

"I won't last," he assures, "just let me... "

"No!" she cries as she bucks even wilder, "please, Robin, just, just fuck me like you want to, I've wanted you to fuck me hard all night, I can't wait, I…"

She sounds like a dream, desperate and pent up, and wanting him to finish just as badly as he does, and bless her, because he needs this so badly, and she must want this for him too, and thank god for that.

He replaces his fingers with his cock, willpower be damned, he needs her, and fuck, maybe they have another round in them, maybe it is okay that he doesn't have it in him to finish her again.

He slams into her hard, and she lets out a little Umpf! And a Yes! And then he takes her advice, fucking her like he wants to, hard and fast, selfishly chasing his orgasm.

"Fuck, Robin, like that, please…"

He reaches around to grab at her tits, plucking and stroking a hard nipple, and well, he should have done this a bit sooner, because the sound she makes is fucking beautiful, sends him into overdrive, and it's too late now, he just….

"Mmmmm, Regina, I— I can't— love you— need to- I need to—"

"Let go, I've wanted you all day. Come inside me." She says in that sultry, sexy tone, and he can't resist.

He takes another look at her, at her tiny waist and her beautiful ass, the profile of her face as she turns to look at him out of the corner of her eye, and she's breathtakingly gorgeous. He lets his mind go blank as he fucks her harder, and everything tenses up, pressure building inside him until he cannot hold off anymore, and lets himself explode into her. Hours of foreplay contribute to the intensity of the orgasm, and his body buzzes and tingles as he comes hard into her.

It's as this pleasure is leaving that he realizes that Regina went without, and a sense of guilt washes over him.

"Sorry," he says, as deep, fast thrusts become more slow and shallow.

"Don't be, that was amazing," she sighs, twisting her neck in attempt to make eye contact with him. "You felt incredible. Just what I needed."

He smiles and shakes his head, because that's not exactly true, is it? But she looks so genuinely happy in this moment, he won't argue. As the last waves of pleasure leaves him, he pulls out from her. They let out twin sighs at the loss of being joined.

And then he spins her around so she's facing him, kisses her, and lifts her up into his arms.

She lets out a surprised little cry but goes willingly, arms looping around his neck and legs wrapping around his waist.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks, voice colored with amusement.

"Guest room," he replies. He wants to lie with her, be able to stroke and touch her for just a bit, and hell, there's a possibility that…

He enters the guest room and chuckles. Robin's sheets are still on the bed, comforter and pillows as well. He deposits Regina on the bed, watching as her naked body tumbles and bounces on the mattress, watches her remove her shoes and toss them on the floor behind her. And then he slides next to her, kissing her forehead.

The old room brings back memories, and not good ones. He slept alone in this room for over a year. The first nights he spent away from her on this bed was spent angry and frustrated with her, and that feeling faded into worry, fear, sadness. He spent many nights feeling hopeless and alone, doing his damndest to convince himself he still had time to fix his marriage. And now he has her, in this room, and there's nothing sweeter.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks through a wide smile as her fingers stroke up his arm.

"Nothing," he shrugs, "just feeling lucky."

She dives in to give him a swift peck on the lips, arms squeezing his bicep as she nods and says "Me, too."

She glances at the bed and then smoothes a hand over the sheets. "Are these...ours?"

Robin chuckles. "Yes. I don't believe Killian went through the trouble of changing sheets for the new tenant."

Regina laughs and shrugs. "We can take them when we leave. Anything else that's yours here?

"Well... it looks like Killian threw some of my stuff in a box for me," he says, pointing to the box in the far end of the room.

Robin had cleared most of the stuff out of the apartment, hell, he cleared most of it out on Christmas Day. But it was a bit frantic, and you always leave things behind. There's a couple of his ties (one in particular he loved and was really looking for), some toiletries he forgot to remove from the bathroom, and other odds and ends.

"That's something at least," Regina says with a smile. "Though I'm not complaining about the fact he forgot about the sheets. They have come in handy.

"You know," Robin muses, "this is the only bed I've slept in where I haven't fucked you since we started dating."

Her brow furrows at that as if she's trying to work something out, because it's quite a statement. In over ten years, he's managed to consecrate every bed he's slept in.

"Business trips," she concludes as finding a loophole. "That trip to San Jose, and then there was Austin, and…"

"Oh, I had you on those trips," he reminds, wiggling his brow. His mind wanders back to their skype dates, and hers must too, the way her cheeks flush every so subtly, and she smiles softly.

"That doesn't count," she argues playfully. And well, if they are going to have a debate, he'd love to have it on something like how many different places they've fucked over the years.

"It absolutely counts. I might have not been able to feel you, but I could hear you and see you. The sex was amazing, if a little unconventional."

She hums in response, cupping his chin and kisses him, her legs wrapping around his waist. "I liked the San Jose trip," she murmurs, and he nods in response.

They kiss for awhile, and touches grow bolder, and he feels himself getting ready for a second round, and from the way Regina is panting, the way her body is rocking into his, he knows she's ready, too.

She rips her mouth from his and he chases it at first, like a boy who has had his toy taken away. Instead she shakes her head, a little smile on her face. Her hands still wander over his body. She still wants him, but she's playing at something. "You did have me on this bed, though," she insists.

"No I didn't," he replies as his eyes wander her body. His hands wander over her breasts now. He didn't pay nearly enough attention to them. His thumb swipes over her nipple, and the way she arches and sucks in a breath is music to his ears. "But I think I am about to."

He cups her ass and urges her against where he's already hard for her, but she pushes back. "Are you saying you never thought about me while you were on this bed?" she asks, her expression turned into mock indignation. She knows otherwise of course, he's confessed as much. Nearly every time he got off over their year apart, he thought of Regina.

"You weren't with me in those moments. You weren't aware that I was—"

"Oh, I was aware. Fourth of July, I was aware." She reaches between them to stroke him now, and he stiffens even further in her hand, unable to fight the moan that comes out of his mouth. God, she's an angel.

"Mmm But — oh! — it's different — mmm! —-" He dips down to kiss at her neck, paying special attention to the spot that makes her shiver.

"Mmm, I know it's different," she muses, and she gets that look in her eye, that devilish twinkle that usually means she's up to something. "But, still, you've thought about fucking me on this bed."

"Oh, most definitely." He says as he moves a hand between her legs, swiping fingers through her folds. It's just a touch, just a tease, but by the way she moves against his fingers, he knows she's more worked up than she's giving away.

"How?" She asks in a breathy sigh. He's puzzled by the question, and it must show on his face, because she adds, "what type of sex would we have?"

Oh. That.

They've talked about this before, about how he'd fantasize about fucking her in the dress she just happened to wear today, or about how he thought about fucking her right in the middle of a crowded park on Fourth of July (it's his fantasy, it can be unrealistic if he wants). But he hasn't really revealed the type of sex they'd have.

"You'd be…. aggressive," he murmurs between kisses. He goes shy for a second, thinking of his fantasies where Regina would be so commanding, and then finds his nerve again. "You really wanted it. And... you were... bossy."

He trails a line of sucking kisses down her neck to her chest, and he can feel her chuckle, the little vibrations reverberating from her body, an echo of laughter behind him.

"You — mm, do that again — like me being bossy?" she asks, arching when he takes a nippple in his mouth, teeth scraping lightly against it.

"God yes," he admits, "one of the things I love about you." he's kissed his way to her navel now, tongue swirling with each sucking pass of his mouth. "Though I don't tend to obey orders well."

And then she is urging him to move off of her, and standing up.

"Regina, what…"

"Shhh!" she says with a smile. Then her expression goes a bit more serious when she adds. "Don't move."

She looks around the room, making her way to the box of Robin's stuff in the corner of the room. She picks out two of his ties and comes back to bed, urging him onto his back and straddling him.

"Arms over your head," she orders. He chuckles, and complies, Hands reaching past the posts of the headboard.

Regina bends over his body, ties still in hand. Her tits are right by his mouth now, hovering just over him. He can't resist lifting his head to suck on a nipple as she works over him. He feels a silk tie loop around his right wrist and then she's knotting it against one of the bedposts. It's a tight knot, the silk digs into the flesh of his arm, but it doesn't hurt. It's a bit thrilling, honestly. She does the same to his other wrist, tying just as tightly.

"There," she says, getting off the bed, "now you have to obey."

He swallows thickly and nods.

"I'm going to clean up," she whispers, and only then he realizes he's made a mess between her legs, remnants of his orgasm still dripping from her. And then she adds a cheeky, "Don't go anywhere."

He laughs, and tests his restraints. The action shakes the bedpost but the knots don't give. He's stuck.

She comes back from the bathroom a few minutes later, a bottle of something that looks like oil in her hand. "Look what I found," she says, tapping the bottle smugly.

"Killian's," Robin says, though it's clear she doesn't care about the ownership of the item.

"Hmmm... Mine now," Regina responds, smiling devilishly, once again straddling his waist. She lets the oil drip out of the bottle and onto his chest. It feels nice, wet and slick.

And then she lets the oil drop on her chest, tiny dots of it falling over the curves of her breasts, sliding over nipples, and she looks so damn good like this, he can't take it. He forgets he's tied up, and he tries to move, tries to touch her. She smiles at his struggle, shaking her head lightly before rubbing the oil into her breasts, down her arms and stomach. The liquid makes her glisten, makes her look absolutely delectable, and it's a crime he can't touch her, can't throw her down on the bed and fuck her.

"I want you," he growls.

"Oh, I know," she responds, reaching behind her to grab his erection and stroke it with slippery hands.

"Fuck, Regina, please, I want to touch you so badly."

"Let me do the touching," she flirts. She shifts to lay on top of him then, her oiled body rubbing against his, and she kisses him deeply, slick skin massaging against his, hand scratching his scalp as she kisses him.

God, he wants to fuck her again, make her scream and moan this time, feel her come on him.

She makes her way between his legs, gripping his cock and stroking it before giving the tip a firm lick. "Do you want my mouth?"

"Please," he begs, thrusting into her, searching for her lips again.

She takes him in her mouth, and fucking Christ, it's amazing. Warm and wet. Her tongue slides and massages as she sucks. It's slower than she usually goes, more drawn out, and each teasing pass of her lips is driving him crazy.

"Please, darling, faster, I—" He's thrashing a bit now, the restraints making him more desperate.

But instead she releases him from her mouth with a pop. "I give the orders here," she purs.

"I'll give you want you want, but…."

And she's crawling up his body, now, until she's by his head. And then she lifts a delicate thigh over him until she's straddling his face... "Make me come first." And then she lowers herself onto his lips and rocks into him.

He can't use his hands, and that's quite a handicap when it comes to this, but there's something thrilling about being tied down, having only his mouth to use on her.

He swipes his tongue through her folds, swirls around her clit, and sucks gently. She's not terribly close, not yet, but she's getting there, if the sounds coming out of her mouth are any indication. He darts his tongue inside her and fucks her as best he can. She is rocking back and forth over him hard, those breathy little sighs turning into headier moans as he sucks and licks at her sex hungrily. His actions are rewarded as her wetness coats his tongue and mouth, dripping down his throat. She tastes sweet, with that little salty tang that is so Regina, he loves this, tasting her while he hears those sexy little sounds coming out of her mouth, and god, he wishes he could touch her, use his fingers on her, but this is good, this is working for her, it's —-

"Don't stop," she moans and the desperate little sound that comes out of her as she rocks harder into him spurs him on. His jaw is cramping a bit, tongue overworked, but he'll be damned if he denies her this, so he eats at her with everything he has.

"God that's good, so good…" she whines as his tongue ruts hard against her clit. And then he he manages to wrap his lips around her and sucks, tongue flicking as he does.

He feels her thighs tremble around him, feels her sex practically vibrate against his lips as she moans and spasms, and fuck, he's a lucky man to have this, not only to have the most beautiful woman in the world come in his mouth, but to have her love him and care for him it's… overwhelming. More than he deserves.

She rides out the last of her orgasm and then lies down next to him, one of those bright, elusive smiles on her face that the world gets to see so rarely. He smiles back, but the action makes him wince a bit as the overworked muscles of his face cry out. He stretches his jaw, causing her to laugh, and she wipes a hand over her face with grateful affection.

"I love you," he rasps, "so, so much."

"I love you, too," she sighs, and then she shimmies down, back between his legs. "I'm going to suck you off," she says in that sultry voice, "but you can't move. Lie still, or I'll stop."

He swallows at that, and nods. She wraps her lips around his cock and pumps him slowly in and out of her mouth, and it feels amazing. He feels her working him up lazily, tongue swirling down and up ihs shaft as she sucks him hard. She's slow again, and she knows what that does to him. It's a tease, and not being able to move, to meet each pass of her lips with a thrust of his hips, it's torture.

On a particular long stroke of her tongue he loses his self control and rocks into her mouth. He curses an apology, but it's too late. She releases him from her mouth and smiles at him sweetly.

"Such a rule breaker," she sighs.

And then she's taking out the oil again and rubbing it all over her body. Arms, legs, torso, ass, chest. She's a slippery mess, looks unbelievably hot like this.

He itches to feel her against him, and once again he curses being restrained by these god damned ties.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea afterall.

"Like what you see?" she asks, rubbing a slippery hand over her shoulder.

"Let me touch you," he begs, shaking his arms. "Enough with this, I want to…"

"No, no," she replies, "I like you tied up."

She lays back down over him, her skin dripping oil. She rubs her breasts down his chest, starting from just under his neck to his groin, a slick path drawn on his chest in their wake. Her breasts are so soft, her nipples are hard, and the oil is warm…

"God, please Regina, let me…"

She takes a well oiled hand and jerks him slowly at first, and then more firmly, with more purpose.

He doesn't want to finish this way, absolutely does not, but her hand is twisting and tugging so perfectly, and every time he can bear to open his eyes he sees her all wet and glistening in the dull light of the single lamp in this room, and he feels himself reaching that peak, precariously hanging over the edge.

"St-Stop! Please, please, I beg you, stop!" He groans in relief when her hands leave his cock, despite the fact that his cock immediately craves her touch again.

He looks up at her, and realizes she's nearly as affected by this as he is. Her face is flushed, her eyes deep pools of lust.

"I want you," she says, just above a whisper.

He nods vigorously. "God yes, I want to touch you, I—"

She shakes her head, and straddles him cowgirl style. She's slick between her thighs, a combination of the oil and her own wetness sliding against him deliciously.

.::.

Her husband is sexy.

She knows that, it's a fact of life, from the moment she first met him. But she's never seen him like this before, not this desperate, not thrashing underneath her, begging, and she sort of likes having this control over him.

"Fuck, darling, please…"

She takes him in her hand and angles him into her slowly. Curses spill from his lips as she lowers herself on to him. It feels wonderful like this, and it's a bit of torture, going this slow, but it's worth it, seeing how riled he is.

"You look so good, darling, so good, I want…"

She leans over him and kisses him deeply, oily hands wandering over his body. And then she parts from him. The need to get off herself is rising, and hell, she's in control, and her refractory period won't prohibit her from having another orgasm, so she rides him faster.

His hips buck and he groans Just like that, darling and Fuck, Regina, yes! And every sound spurs her on further, drives her closer.

He would usually be touching her now, but he's tied and can't, so she touches herself, one hand rubbing against her clit, the other playing with a nipple, and that seems to send him into overdrive. His arms thrash, and he curses, sounding on the edge of annoyed.

"Just let me go!" he argues, "please, let me go, I'll... I'll do whatever you want, I just—" His pleas drive her forward, and her body starts to tremble and tingle, her belly tightening as she pulses around him.

"Mate? Is everything okay —- OH GOD!"

"SHIT!" Robin says, well, he has the view of the door, but she knows who is there, and she is so close, so close, she really doesn't want to stop, but the idea of Killian seeing her bare, oiled up ass and possibly the profile of her tits, well… it's enough to have her sliding off or Robin, to the side that's furthest from the door, covering herself up with two strategically placed hands.

"Regina, Robin — what the fuck?!" Killian asks, turning away from them, but still not leaving, "I could hear you down the hall, I thought something terrible had happened."

"I thought you were out for the night," is all Robin can say. Regina chuckles, and tosses a pillow over his groin, since he's incapable of covering himself.

"I was out for the night but we had a little misunderstanding, and fuck, what does it matter? This is my home. You two can do this in your own house." He's still facing away from them, eyes focused on the dresser by the door. "Shit, mate, is that my massage oil? You used all my massage oil? What the fuck?"

"We'll buy you a brand new bottle," Regina mutters, "now can you please leave us?"

"Yeah... I mean... it's only my own damn apartment, how dare I walk into the place I fucking live…" he mutters. "Good god, I did not need to know you are into the BDSM shit, I just—"

His voice is cut off when he shuts the door behind him, and that's when Regina lets out the laughter she'd been trying so hard to hold in.

"Not funny," Robin says, trying his damndest to be serious. "Not funny at all."

"Killian seeing me naked and lubed up is definitely no laughing matter," she says through snickers.

"I'm tied to the bed," Robin reminds her, and at that she laughs even more. He joins in, despite clearly trying to refuse to see the humor in this. "He probably thinks I have some crazy fetish, and… please! This is serious!"

"You know what's even more serious than that?" She asks, as she starts to untie him.

"What?"

"Well…." she releases one of his arms, and he immediately drops it down, rolling his shoulder a bit, his hand playing absently with her thigh. Whoops. She forgot that being in that position can be slightly uncomfortable. Still, he looks no worse for the wear. "I was pretty close before he interrupted us…" She works at the second tie, undoing the knots as quickly as she can. "And…" she releases his second arm. "I really, really, need you to finish me."

She expects him to laugh, but she's just released his arms, and he's wanted to touch her badly for a while. His arms reach up her body, and he smiles devilishly.

"Good," he says, and flips her so she's laying on the bed. "Because I really, really want you, too." He lifts her leg over his shoulder and thrusts into her hard, taking the opportunity to touch her everywhere he previously could not.

It's not long before she's coming, hard and loud, around him, and he's spilling inside her again.

Ten minutes later they shuffle out of the bedroom, guest bath towels around their oiled up bodies. They walk past a completely traumatized Killian, who's turned the volume on the television far too loud.

"Just going to borrow your shower," Robin explains, as they walk past him.

"Fuck, I'll just leave for a few hours," Killian shouts exasperatingly, standing up, "I don't even want to know what sort of kinky shit you have planned to do in my shower."

Regina nearly drops her towel laughing.

Before Killian leaves he mutters, "And uh, I'm happy for you two I guess, assuming that wasn't some sort of power struggle I'll never understand... And Regina?" Regina peers back at him from the hallway.

"Yes?"

"Nice ass."

She should be humiliated, should be mortified to know that her husband's friend of many years has just seen her in the nude. But she's had three unbelievable orgasms, and there's still wine coursing through her veins, making her feel bold and flirty. So she just responds with "I know," and winks at Robin. She drops her towel then, walking the rest of the way to the bathroom in the nude, entirely unphased by the fact that Killian may, in fact, still have a view of her walking away. She does have a nice ass, after all.

"Christ, we need to take a vacation. Just the two of us," Robin mutters as Killian slams the door shut.

"We do," she soothes, smiling at him. "Are you—"

"Ready? Yeah." He takes both her hands in his and kisses each palm sweetly. "I'm ready. I'm less scared of losing you. And besides," he adds, glancing back in the direction of the guest room. "There's many more beds out there in need of defiling."