Author's note: That episode, though. Ugh, I'm still not over it, I doubt I ever will be. Which is why you have this. I needed to grieve a bit. I know Regina's not going to get to keep him, and they're gonna probably send him back to the Wish Realm, so in a way, I suppose this is an AU where she gets to keep him.
"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love." –Washington Irving
She can't help but think that it's wrong. Not all of her, but that little part that is tucked far in the corner of her heart. The part that is his and his alone, and she feels guilty for doing this, for being with him.
His strong hands are resting against her bare back, holding her against his chest while she cries. She is naked and straddling him, and her arms are wrapped around his broad shoulders, holding him, clutching his warmth to her like an anchor. He is alive and here with her. She can feel his heartbeat against her chest, his warm breath against her shoulder, and his soft lips on her skin as he plants kiss after kiss, a row of them, just like he used to. It's different now because he whispers between each, "It's alright," and "I've got you."
She thought she was ready.
She's soft and broken under his touch.
She mourns for another version of him, a version that loved her so much he was willing to die for her. She needs more time, and he tells himself that though he is Robin, it's not him she's spent the last few years loving.
He has no problem holding her and sitting with her like this, bare and raw above him. Somehow he believes that just his presence helps her, soothes a part of her soul that is tethered to his. She holds so much in; he could see that plainly just in the short time he's been with her. She doesn't confide in many, and when she does it's only pieces, never fully.
She guards her heart, doesn't bare it often, and he does not take that lightly.
But for him, she did and does reveal herself, and it baffles him how easily it is to accept her. He's not afraid of who she is or what she's done. He cares nothing for the sins against her. He cares only for the woman here and now, the same care she has shown to him.
He told her it had been a long time since he's been happy, and it was the first time in a long time he has admitted that even to himself. Days and nights of being alone and on the run can wear a man down after a time. And though he's had his share of meaningless drunken nights spent with ladies of the less virtuous sort, who may have temporarily quelched certain desires, it is always been just that, meaningless.
He is with her in a land he doesn't understand, a land he's slowly growing accustomed to. As much as he tells himself he left his world because there was nothing left for him there, he knows it's a lie. He did it for her. He knows not why. Nothing about this makes sense. All he knows, all he feels, and all he wants is this.
Her.
He feels like he's holding the world in his arms and can't help but appreciate how precious it is to do so. Yet he's cared nothing for the world until she stepped into it. There is a need, a want to protect her from it that rises in his chest when he thinks someone may try and harm her. It's a beast that claws viciously, and he thinks he understands what it was to be him.
She swallows, taking great gulps of air into her lungs that can't seem to get enough. She can't imagine what he thinks of her. He wants her. The evidence she felt not so long ago was pressed against her, hot and hard. She felt it right before she was about to lower herself onto him, before she started crying.
She made the mistake of choosing that moment to look into his eyes, the blue eyes of a man who didn't know her intimately like he had. It took everything she had to hold back her heartbreak, but once his hand came up and he held it softly against her cheek and told her in no more than a whisper with that same voice, his voice... "It's alright to miss him," she lost it.
Now she's sure she's an absolute mess. She was sniffing back a nose full of snot, and her face was red and puffy from crying like an idiot. She doesn't even want to pull away from him, frightened by the pity or the judgment that awaits her.
The hands that were holding her to him are soft and moving now. His fingertips trailing up and down her back and, to spite her emotions, were making her shiver. She could stay here like this, she thinks, in his arms, doing nothing but having him hold her. She's missed being held. She'd gotten used to falling asleep in someone's arms, only to have it cruelly ripped from her again. Now here she is back in those familiar arms, and all she feels is lost.
"I'm sorry," she breaths out so soft she's not sure he hears it, but then his hands still, and soon he's hugging her.
"Regina, it's alright."
She's sure it's not. How can it be? She's crying on him when she should be fucking him. She turns her head into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. He even smells like him, she thinks for the hundredth time since he's been with her. She places a kiss to his neck, to the pulse that beats strongly beneath his skin, and his hands start to move once again, picking up their rhythm they had before. Resuming the slow up and down motion along her spine and then over her sides and back.
When she finally pulls away, she is much more together than she has been. The tears have stopped, but their presence remains. She wipes away the wetness and avoids his eyes for as long as she can, but his hand lifts and a knuckle under her chin has her raising her head, his intent clear.
He wants to see her.
When her gaze meets his, she doesn't see any trace of the pity she expected, only the gentle look of a man who worries for her. Who cares for her. He takes her in, and she lets him see her. Another tear slips down and he's there to catch it. Wipes it away with his thumb as his fingers tangle in her hair. The gesture so Robin that it has her leaning into his touch, her own hand rising to cover his.
She closes her eyes, lets the grief fill her again, it's all consuming and it fills her chest so much she doesn't think she'll ever be able to breathe again. But his voice is there, and it's pulling her back, out of the fog that's filling her mind.
"Regina, look at me."
Her eyes flutter open, and something's changed. His other hand comes up and cups her other cheek, his eyes bore into her's with such intensity she can't look away from him.
"Say my name."
She blinks. Isn't sure she heard him right. With an inhale through her nose, she exhales through her parted lips, then she asks, "What?"
He says it again, this time a bit softer and a little closer, as he straightens his spine, "Say my name for me."
Why is he asking her to do this? She feels the sting of tears again when she realizes his name sticks in her throat weighted and guarded. Sure she's said it many times but not here, not like this. Her eyes search his for reason but she finds nothing, so she asks, and this time her voice cracks with a broken, "Why?"
Drowning, he thinks as he watches her. It was like she was drowning, and the sad thing is she goes willingly into the cold murky depths because it is in this place that she feels something. He hates what he's about to do but he cannot bear to see her suffer needlessly. Not when he's there for her.
"Say my name for me," he repeats. He needs to hear it, and more than that so does she.
"Why?" she asks him and he hears a bit of heartbreak there that has his jaw tightening and his own chest burning.
"Because I need to hear you say it," he pleads with her. And he really does because in this short time they've been together he needs to hear the woman he now realizes he loves say his name. He needs her to know that he's there with her. "I'm right here. I'm not gone."
It's with a scowl that she bites, "I know you're not but-"
Whatever she's about to tell him he cuts off because he cannot bear to hear her say it again. That he's not her Robin. Regardless if she means to or not hearing her say it cuts deep.
"But I am! I may not have his memories and my past may be different, but I am him." He drops his hands from where he's holding her face, and takes one of hers in his and places it on his chest, over his beating heart. His hand pulses over hers and his voice is insistent when he says, "You believed some part of him is in me, you as good as said it when you brought me back here with you. And I need you to believe that now. What I feel for you is nothing like I've ever felt before. It's real, just as I am."
Her dark wet lashes blink at him, causing more tears to fall, and her bottom lip begins to quiver.
He instantly feels regret at his words. His heart falling as he thinks he has pushed her too far. She's swallowing, thickly, it has her looking down between them, and when her dark eyes lift again, and as his name leaves her lips he thinks if he hadn't seen it he would have thought it was his imagination.
"Again," he instructs softly. One more time. He just needs to hear her say it.
"Robin."
He feels relief but her eyes fill once again, and he simply cannot have that. His hands reach down to grasp at her hips, sliding her closer to him. His brow falls to hers, and it's an action that leaves her gasping.
After a few moments like this, she places her hands on his shoulders and catches him off guard when she says it again. It's his turn to close his eyes to stay any moisture from filling his own at the sound of her voice. He was truthful in his speech, his pull to her he feels not only in his heart and mind but in his very being.
After a moment, he feels her shift, her weight coming off his thighs as she shifts to her knees, and he has to tilt his head up to see her properly. Her hands are in his hair, fingers raking through it softly before she says it again, this time, it leaves her lips like a prayer.
"Robin."
He only has time say her name in kind before her lips are crashing down on his. His heart hammers in his chest, his hands cannot stop touching her. They're gliding up the soft flesh of her thighs, up and over and back farther to take handfuls of her ample arse, pulling her closer still though she's already against him. Her tongue licks at the seam of his lips and his mouth softness, opens under hers willingly, fervently.
She is glorious, he thinks, and when her hands move from his hair down, her nails dig into the back of his neck. His hands move from her rear, up and around to cup her breasts. They are soft and full, the weight of them fills his hands, the feel of her stiff nipples against his palms, and her breath intakes, a sharp needy thing that has her pushing her chest into his touch.
She likes this, he does know that.
They may have never made love, but the few times she has come to his bed, they've explored each other. He's learned enough to have her whimpering under his touch through the silk of her many nightdresses. Taking her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and tugging her gently, listening as her breath hitches, and soon her lips leave his, her head falling back to gasp, "Yes."
Shifting her hips back down she feels him hard between them. She's wet and aching for him to touch her there, but his hands are on her breasts, and it feels so good. Too good. She doesn't want him to stop, and she's not quite ready to have him inside her. Not yet, anyways. She wants to draw it out. Wants to make it last, because she knows their time together is not promised from one day to the next, and she never wants to regret not prolonging their first time together.
She sighs his name, presses her belly insistently against him, and he gets the message. One of his hands leaving her breast snaking down between them, and then he is hissing, and telling her, "My Gods, you're sodden, love. I cannot wait to feel you," before his head dips and his lips catch her nipple, suckling her.
Her hips grind against his hand and when his fingers find her clit it's all she can do to keep from crying out. Oh, oh... He's rubbing her in quick tight little circles, making her jaw drop and her belly clench.
"Like that, milady?"
She nods eagerly, a needy whimper leaving her throat. Her hands leave his shoulders and once again they tangle in his dark hair, pulling him back down to her breast, and he goes easily, flicking lightly and licking her in long petting licks and little nips, all too eager to feast himself there as long as she allows.
It's with a selfish thought that she realizes she hasn't touched him, and it has her lips pulling down into a frown for a moment until the finger that was on her clit slides back and up and... "Oh, fuck," she rasps, and she drops down onto his hand, feeling him fill her as he adds another finger, and begins a slow thumping pace inside her.
"Such language coming from a beautiful queen. I like it." He's smiling at her. A smug expression that has even her lips pulling up. He has no idea, she thinks. And then his fingers are moving faster, searching, seeking, and their faces are inches from each other, and he looks into her eyes a moment before he takes her lips with his again.
Their kisses are hungry, tongues and lips demanding and then he's laving a wet trail down her jaw and throat. His fingers bringing her up and up, and she's so close… but she hasn't even touched him yet, and as much as she's enjoying the feel of this she wants to pleasure him as well.
She pulls back, and it takes effort because she could easily come for him like that, and she so badly wants to, but she pulls away shaking her head, saying, "No," and she sees disappointment cloud his eyes and the frown that's beginning to tug at his lips and clarifies, "I want to touch you."
His jaw drops down slightly at her words and once he collects himself, nodding. Slipping his fingers from her heat to rest on her hips, watching as she reaches down between them where he's hard and ready for her, taking him in hand. A groan spills from him, as her soft warm hand closes around him.
Her grip is firm as she sets a slow pace, and he swallows, his breath going quick and he grits his teeth. Soon she is pulling back his foreskin and swiping her thumb across the tip of him like she's knows just what he likes. She does, he thinks, and vows to himself that soon he'll take time with her, he will uncover all the ways to draw out every gasp and every sigh that leaves that beautiful mouth of hers. Right now he is hers, and his hands clutch her hips and pull her fully against him, leaning in because he needs to feel her lips on his again, needs to be as close to her as possible, and she returns his kiss eagerly, if not more so.
He wants to to be inside her, filling her as her tight heat surrounds him. Her hand quickens, and Gods, he won't last if she keeps doing that. His moan breaks them from their kiss, and his hand covers hers, stills her, as he gasps, "Too much. I want to be inside you for that."
She licks her lips, and nods, releasing him as a smile tugs those red painted lips he's so fascinated with up into a knowing smirk. Rising up on her knees, she swallows, and his hands reach up, pushing her hair back away from her face, and pulls her down to him for one more soft kiss, before he requests once more, "Say it for me."
She's smiling now as she lowers herself on him, and this time when she says his name it's a strong and sure, "Robin," and then her eyes close tightly, her forehead pressing against his.
He lets out a soft growl, his hands perch on her thighs and grip her. He's close but he knows she's not, so he takes one hand and presses his thumb against her. She's crying out and clutching his shoulders, in time with the rise and fall of her hips.
He's rubbing and rubbing and she's clutching and splaying, and she's glorious above him, and he can't help but think what a lucky bastard this other version of him was. And then the thought that follows, that she's his now, is followed by a lick of shame, but it's gone in an instant when her pace picks up.
She's whimpering now, and… Gods, he's not going to last long at all. So he picks up his pace and his free hand guides her down hard on him, and she understands, she's rapping down on him, fast and hard and crying out to God right before she comes. He feels her tighten and flutter around him, her breath high and tight.
She's losing her pace with the effort, and he smirks at the sated look on her face.
He splays one hand across her back and one under her leg and flips them so that she's now on her back looking up at him with wide pleasantly surprised eyes, and her chest is shaking as she chuckles.
He's smiling so much he feels like his face might split into two at the sight of her so happy, and it's with that that he pushes into her again, because while his flip of position had been graceful he wasn't that talented. One quick thrust home and those dark lashes of hers flutter close again. Bracing himself on his elbows, he places a row of kisses on her brow and then she's tilting her head up, wants his lips on her and he's more than happy to oblige.
Her legs come up, wrap around his waist and he picks up that pace once again. Builds himself back up and it won't take long, not at all, not when she's tight and hot around him, and looking up at him with what he can't help but hope is love in her eyes. His chest tightens, constricts at the very thought of it.
Her jaw drops open on a particularly hard thrust, her eyes closing, soon she's biting that full lower lip. He feels her belly slick with sweat against his clenching as she arches into him, and he wants to see her come apart for him one more time before he has his fill of her.
He presses a soft kiss to her collar and then he's rising up onto his knees, squeezing her backside and sliding her up to rest on his thighs. He sets a steady in and out motion, and his hand falls between her legs. He teases over where she's still sensitive, making her cry out and thrust up into his hand.
"That's it," he tells her, his free hand reaching for her breast and twisting a nipple. "Will you come for me again, Regina?"
She's nodding her head, her eyes screwed shut and her voice is tight and full of need when she replies, "Uh huh."
So close, she thinks. The feel of him filling her, thumping against that spot inside her that has her clutching the pillows above her. God, she's really going to come again. He's thrusting deep long strokes, again and again, that she can't help the whimpers that escape.
Another pass over her clit and she's falling, shuddering. "I'm- oh, God," she manages, then falls over the edge, wave after wave takes her, and his pace picks up, jutting against her and it's with his own cry that he spills his release inside her.
He stays there for a few moments, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down her thighs as she comes down. His chest is heaving as is hers, and it's with a deep exhale that he slips from her and falls down beside her, leaning over and kissing her before pulling her along with him as he rolls onto his back.
Her head rests on his chest, and she hears his heartbeat under her ear. Closing her eyes she lies there and listens. She's so tired, she thinks. And with his lips against her brow, she lets the pull of sleep drag her under. The lull of his breathing in time with the sound of his heart is the last sounds she hears before she settles into oblivion.
If she hadn't been so tired she might have witnessed how he stayed awake watching her or to hear him as he whispered vows to be with her forever.
For the first time since he died, she slept soundly, peacefully, where she was always meant to be. In his arms.