Arsenic and Old Lace

by grayautumnsky13

Robin Locksley has the perfect plan to rob the mansion on Mifflin Street. Both fortunately and unfortunately for him, Regina and Mal have other plans. A Dragon Outlaw Queen spin on the classic movie.

1. Chapter 1

Growing up in Storybrooke, Maine, he'd always admired the mansion on Mifflin street from afar.

As a boy, Robin used to wonder about the people who lived there. He knew little of their lives, yet felt surrounded by them. All of the buildings in town bore their name, and every now and then he saw them driving in their fancy cars and wearing their fancy clothes. As a child, he hadn't quite been able to put into words how seeing them made him feel; he just knew that he was suddenly quite aware of the patches in his trousers and his too-small shoes pinched a little more than usual. It stirred something inside of him that he couldn't quite explain, but left him feeling uneasy yet curious. Growing up, he'd always heard of the lavish parties they'd throw before the hard times hit the town and his mother used to talk about how she'd open up her windows at night and listen to a live ragtime band play. Once, he'd asked why she didn't go to the parties herself. She smiled sweetly and shook her head, and told him that the Mills' were a different breed—and once more, that feeling he couldn't quite pinpoint stirred up inside of him, making him uneasy.

When he was twelve, his mother died and he'd moved into a boys' home in the adjoining town; and even there, he felt he couldn't escape the Mills name. Xavier Mills was a beneficiary of the home and he learned to associate the Mills name with meager food rations, thin blankets, and frosty windows in the winter. As he got older it became harder and harder to even imagine what the Mills' lives were like, and he came to understand the feeling he hadn't been able to pinpoint as a child was a mix of jealousy, envy, and anger.

Robin was vaguely aware that the Mills' had just one daughter, Regina, and on the day he deployed to Europe, he remembers that her engagement to Daniel Colter made the front page. He remembered scoffing at it, and he remembered feeling numb when he heard the news, while home on leave, that her fiancé had gone missing in action. By the time he returned, he heard that Daniel was never found—and he also heard that Regina hadn't handled it well. Momentarily, he felt sad—this wasn't an uncommon story, and though he didn't feel warmly toward Regina Mills, his heart went out to anyone who experienced such unnecessary loss.

Then, he'd left town. He'd married and had a son. His son grew up and his wife passed on, and for the first time since his childhood, he found himself floundering and looking for a purpose. Like most men of his age, his son was stationed overseas, and he found himself looking for a hobby to distract himself—and that's when he'd taken a renewed interest in the Mills' mansion.

As a teenager, he'd learned to pick-pocket. It'd been a means of survival, but it'd also given him a thrill. He was good at it, and quickly worked his way from plucking change from coat pockets to stealing trinkets from stores to breaking into large, fancy houses and making away with cherished heirlooms. He pawned the items and lived off the money, and though Marian seemed vaguely aware that the money wasn't coming from his job as a bartender, she didn't question it.

From what he gathered, Regina Mills had taken on a companion—an intimate confidant, of sorts, depending, of course, on who you got the information from—in the form of the equally rich and eccentric Malvina Briarly. It was rumored that Henry and Cora Mills' fortune had dwindled down to nothing, and though that seemed hard to believe, given how vast their fortune once was, Regina and Mal had opened up the mansion on Mifflin as a bed and breakfast, using the house as a source of revenue. The loss of the Mills fortune had come quickly and suddenly, and people all around Storybrooke speculated that had Regina seen it coming, she might have salvaged some of her inheritance by selling off some of their more valuable possessions. That particular detail made his ears perk up and the wheels in his head began to spin. He envisioned the Mills' home to be a bit like Miss Havisham's estate, filled with heirlooms ripe for picking.

So, he booked a room and made a plan…

A smirk edges onto Mal's lips as she comes into the kitchen from the back door and quickly notes the open latch on the door that leads to the cellar.

A thrill runs down her spine.

This can only mean one thing.

Quickly, she sets down her purse and takes off her jacket, peeking out into the main sitting area where new guests wait until their room is ready, and sure enough, they have a new guest. Her eyes trail over him, watch as he sits, somewhat awkwardly in a chair facing the stairs, and she has to admit, this is one of the more attractive ones. He has dark blonde hair and a nice jaw covered with a five o'clock shadow, and he's wearing an old, worn, army green leather jacket that makes her feel a bit weak in the knees. She imagines he got it in a war and bites down on her lip—she's always had a thing for pilots.

Rather effortlessly, she notes, he's flipping a coin back and forth between his fingers, flitting right to left, then back again, and she can't help but notice how quick and nimble they are—just as she can't help but wonder what other talents his fingers have.

Taking a step back, she smirks again, as she slips back into the kitchen, glad to have gone unnoticed.

This time, she turns toward the open cellar.

She can hear Regina rummaging around. She has a familiar amber bottle in her palm and two more on the workspace in front of her, and there's a bottle of unopened wine sitting beside them.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" Mal asks, grinning when Regina looks back at her. "This one's cute."

"He is," Regina agrees. "I almost feel bad about what we're going to do to him."

"Oh, love," Mal says, laughing gently. "Don't feel bad about it. He'll die a very happy and satisfied man."

Regina grins. "He was surprisingly chatty. He gave me almost everything I needed to know in the first five minutes that he was here."

"Oh, how helpful and considerate."

Again, Regina grins, but this time, she looks up and her brown eyes sparkle. "He's a widower. His son is stationed in the Pacific."

"Oh—"

"He met a girl there."

"So, he's staying."

Regina nods. "He thinks so."

"How terribly lonely his life must be."

"Exactly. He just moved here, hoping to connect with some old friends, but alas, he didn't run into any." Regina looks back to the workspace and sets the amber bottle down beside the rest. "He's got a British accent."

"So, his family's there?"

Regina shakes her head. "He never knew them. His mother died when he was a kid."

"So, he was all alone—"

"Until his wife came along."

"But then she died."

"And his son went off to war."

"That is a sad, lonely life."

"Well," Regina says as she uncorks the little amber bottle. "He's come to the right spot."

Mal smirks and watches as Regina uses an eyedropper to fill the tiny bottle, then after checking the contents, she pushes the cork back in and drops it into her pocket. "You can see that right through your dress," Mal's eyebrow arches. "I'm not sure you even own a tighter one."

Regina's brow arches right back at her. "Are you complaining?"

Stepping in, Mal reaches for her, pulling her up against her. She rubs her hand at the soft fabric of Regina's dress, her hand eventually settling itself on her ass. "Never," she murmurs as she leans in, her tongue swiping against Regina's bottom lip as her other hand slides into Regina's pocket. "But I'll hold onto this."

Regina releases a low mmm as she parts her lips, and her mouth is warm and inviting—and for just a second, she thinks about how fun it'd be to take her, right here in the cellar, with a stranger right upstairs, waiting to be shown to his room. She grins as her lips brush over Regina's and she thinks about how naughty it'd be to push Regina up against the counter and hike up her impossibly tight skirt, to let her fingers tease her.

Mal's hand gives Regina's ass a little squeeze and forces her skirt to rise up. Regina pushes herself closer and hooks her leg around the back of Mal's, seemingly forgetting about the stranger upstairs—or maybe, just enjoying the thought of keeping him waiting.

She pictures them returning upstairs and greeting him with awkward smiles and flushed cheeks, bodies still tingling and not fully down from the high. She wonders if he'd notice...

And then, her fingers form around the little amber bottle as she pulls back and away.

"Hey."

"Save it for later," she says, grinning as Regina pouts.

"Nothing wrong with… indulging a little now."

"He's waiting."

Regina shrugs. "Well, when you show up unannounced—"

"What if he leaves?"

"Where does he have to go? He came here for a reason." Regina's eyes shift to the stairs and she grins. "I put on a pot of lamb stew—"

"That'll pair nicely with the wine."

"Mm, and the arsenic." A grin twists onto Mal's lips. "He said that no one makes a lamb stew as good as his mother's."

"And you're going to prove him wrong?"

"It only seems fair to send him off with the best meal of his life."

Mal reaches for Regina's hand and Regina reaches for the bottle. "You like this one. I can tell."

"I've only known him for an hour, if that."

"Still," Mal says, a grin curling onto her lips as she looks back at Regina. "You like him."

Regina's cheeks flush, and she nods.

It's not often they get this sort of guest at the mansion, and it's not often that either of them forms any sort of attachment. Typically, their guests are boring businessman rushing through town, barely taking a moment to enjoy the complimentary breakfast before going on their way. Often they talk of their wives and children, their girlfriends and friends, the full lives they feel they have—and it's all so dull.

But every now and then, an aimless soul wanders in. Regina's best at pegging them, easily picking them out from the crowd. She says it's something behind their eyes and something about their posture, and so far, she's yet to be wrong. These men are rarely in any rush, they don't talk of future plans or people they can't wait to get back to; instead, these men focus on the past, all but wishing they could go back to happier, more fulfilling times. They linger after dinner, glad for the company after a good meal, and by the time the wine really begins to kick in, they're allowing themselves to be lured upstairs by their hostesses.

It was never hard to seduce them.

They always followed willingly, confessing their fantasies and savoring their touches, and nearly combusting at the realization that nearly nothing was off limits. The ecstasy was palpable, and usually, lasted into the early hours of the morning.

It was usually then that one of them got up, offering another glass of wine. Their guest would sip it as his eyes grew tired, and she and Regina would sit beside him, stroking and kissing him, until he fell asleep with a smile spread across his lips.

Happy and content, for all eternity.

"I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," Regina calls. "But your room is ready."

"Do you have any luggage?"

"Just the one bag," he says, turning toward them and standing—and for a moment, she gets lost in his clear, blue eyes. "I like to travel light."

"Of course."

Mal grins. "Would you like to go up now...um…" She looks to Regina. "I'm not sure you shared his name."

"Robin," he replies, sticking out his hand. "Robin Locksley."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Robin Locksley," Mal says, her heart fluttering as he smiles and shakes her hand. "We hope you'll be comfortable here."

Robin nods, looking around. "I know that I will be. I think it'd be impossible to be anything but comfortable in such a gorgeous house."

Regina beams and Mal smirks—without knowing it, he's stroking Regina's ego.

"I'm glad you think so," Regina admits. "It's… been a work-in-progress, a hobby of sorts, since I inherited this place."

"I anticipated dusty mahogany and gaudy faberge eggs," he tells her, offering a hearty laugh. "But this is… quite lovely."

Again, Regina beams and this time, Mal laughs softly.

Regina has spent a painstaking amount of time modernizing the old family house. It started with just the necessities—electricity in all of the rooms, centralized heating, and moving the kitchen up from the basement—but once those things were complete and installed, she'd just kept going. She had expensive taste, and it showed from the Calacatta Marble to the modern art to the pure gold fixtures on all of the doors, cabinet and windows. It all glittered and shined just as it should, given the amount of money that'd been poured into it.

"Come on," Mal says, stepping forward and taking his bag. "I'll show you up to your room. It has an impressive view of the garden."

"Oh, a garden. How lovely."

Mal nods. "We've just had the hedges trimmed and the roses are beginning to bud."

"Again. Lovely."

Regina grins—another detail she'd agonized over. "While you're showing him to his room, I'm going to check on the stew."

"Are you truly serving lamb stew?"

Regina nods. "Truly."

"How lucky that I showed up today!"

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret," Mal says, slipping her arm through his as she tugs him toward the stairs. "There's never an unlucky night to come. Regina's a fantastic cook."

Robin smiles and looks between them. "Would it be possible to have a little tour?" he asks, his eyes glittering with hope. "I'd love to see more of this beautiful estate."

"It'd be my pleasure," Mal says. "And perhaps, once Regina's checked on the stew, she could join us?"

"I'd like that," Regina says, nodding eagerly. "It'll only take a minute. It's about ready for the oven."

"I would, too," Robin admits.

"Then, it's settled," Mal says, winking at Regina and laughing softly to herself at the realization that this one might be the easiest to seduce yet. "I'll show you to your room, then give you some time to unpack and freshen up, and we'll all rendezvous in the foyer in a half hour."

"Sounds perfect," Regina says.

"Yes, perfect," Robin agrees.

A smirk edges onto Mal's lips as Regina turns back to the kitchen and Robin's eyes linger over her, obviously enjoying the way the fabric of her dress clings to her ass and moves with her body—and as she gives him another tug toward the stairs, she decides that she likes that he doesn't seem at all shy. After all, those are the ones they have the most fun with.

They all had a surprisingly enjoyable afternoon together, walking through the gardens and ducking into rooms in the house. Regina showed off her rose garden and apple trees and Mal was all too eager to show off her collection of Victorian Era trinkets. She collected ivory backed brushes and diamond trimmed combs, lockets made of precious metals, and broaches trimmed in jewels—and the best part of these collections is that they were all displayed in open frames and glass display boxes without locks, so easily accessible that he could sweep the whole room in five minutes flat.

The library was one of the most impressive rooms in the house, filled with old, rare books, and impressive, centuries-old art. There were souvenirs from far away lands—Roman coins and Egyptian buttons, the sort of things you'd normally find in a museum—and he estimated he could easily make thousands based on a handful of items that would easily fit inside of his nearly-empty overnight bag.

He eyed one particular item, remembering it from somewhere, but not knowing where, and for a moment, he fixated on it, memorizing the already familiar details. It was an intricately designed little ivory elephant that could easily be concealed in the palm of his hand. It wore a jeweled wreath around its neck and little gold cuffs around its feet, and its eyes were made from tiny emeralds; the elephant was easily the most expensive thing in the room, and he found it impossible to help himself from taking it, right then and there.

So, he moved to the window, pointing out yet another incredible view. He grinned, spotting an old barn in the distance, and a little thrill ran down his spine as both Regina and Mal joined him at the window, each explaining the history of the barn, adding fun little facts and anecdotes about it. He didn't listen to what they said, instead taking a step back and pocketing the elephant.

It was almost too easy...

He noted that in every room the furniture was new and comfortable-looking, and that each room was impeccably clean. Mal laughed gently, placing her hand on his arm, and confessing that they have a maid who comes in four times a week to do the more tedious tasks around the house.

The perfect scapegoat, he thought, as he nodded and told them that seemed reasonable.

Regina took his hand to lead him to the next room, making a comment about how it was difficult to dust the high shelves and he couldn't help but grin as Mal made a joke about her height. To his surprise, Regina had stopped, swatting the back of her hand against Mal's arm as both women giggled, and he found himself smiling at their exchange, realizing that he found them both completely endearing.

And he almost felt bad about the fact that he'd be robbing them dry in the middle of the night.

Almost, but not quite.

As Regina insisted, the dinner did not disappoint, and though he was loath to admit it, her stew really was the best he'd ever had.

The meat was tender, practically melting in his mouth, and the vegetables full of flavor. The broth was just right, and he hadn't hesitated to ask for a second serving. She'd served it with a big salad, made from fresh greens from her garden, and Mal had baked a baguette that was crispy yet soft. And then, despite the fact that he felt he was bursting at the seams, he happily accepted a plate of dessert, simply because it smelled so good.

Regina baked apple turnovers that were dusted in cinnamon sugar and served with a dollop of fresh whipping cream. She relished in every bite he'd taken, seeming so proud of herself.

He grinned at her, offering a genuine thank you as he took the last bite, and she'd lit up as she asked him if he'd truly enjoyed it. He'd nodded and assured her that he did, all the while thinking to himself, that neither Regina Mills nor Malvina Briarly were anything he'd expected. In fact, they were the complete opposite.

And opposites, they were.

Regina was short and Mal was tall. Mal had blonde hair and Regina's was a very dark brown. Regina's brown eyes shined and Mal's blue eyes sparkled, and there was something about them together that was so complimentary.

He wasn't sure of the exact nature of their relationship, but when Mal suggested they move into the parlor for a nightcap of more wine and a little jazz music, she'd stood up and rounded the table to grab a second bottle of wine, and when she did, she curled her arm around Regina and told her she'd outdone herself and that dinner had been divine. Then, as he stood there, watching them, Mal leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. He swallowed hard and watched as Regina's lips parted, letting Mal's tongue slip inside of her mouth, and though it seemed rude, he couldn't look away.

They were beautiful, entwined together in such an intimate way, and when they pulled back from one another, his eyes shifted quickly to the floor, his cheeks flushing at the realization he'd been caught.

They didn't seem to mind, though, and if they had, they didn't let on.

Mal moved to the cabinet to retrieve a cork, and Regina rose up from the table. Her fingers slid slowly over his hand before curling under it, and she smiled as she gave his hand a little tug, telling him he should follow her.

He took a breath and swallowed hard as he let her lead him, Mal following closely behind; and all the while he couldn't help but feel that this night might take an unusual turn.

"So," Mal begins as she pours three glasses of wine. "You mentioned that you grew up here."

"Until I was twelve," he confirms.

"Why did you move?"

"My mother passed on and I didn't have anyone to stay with in town, so I had to go."

"Oh, how sad."

"I'll admit, it wasn't a good time for me."

"But you survived it," Regina says, accepting a glass of wine and sitting down across from him.

"Yes. I survived that and so much more."

"I assume you were drafted?"

"Yes," he says. "Who wasn't?"

"True—"

"Were you a pilot?" Mal asks, as she sinks down beside Regina, her hand falling over Regina's thigh.

His brow furrows. He's not sure if he's more distracted by the precision of her question or the placement of her hand. "Yes. Good guess."

"The jacket gave you away."

"Mal has a thing for a man in a leather jacket," Regina admits, grinning as she looks over at her. "Well, really, she just has a thing for leather."

He clears his throat and he nearly chokes on his wine as Mal's hand slips higher on Regina's leg, pulling the fabric up a bit to reveal the top of her stockings.

"Well, leather and lace," Mal says, grinning at him as if her hand isn't where it is—and it's lost on none of them that he has a clear view of the lacy bands around Regina's thighs.

"Where did you serve?"

"Uh, Morocco."

"Oh, I'd love to see Morocco again," Mal says, practically cooing. "Of course, I'm sure it wasn't as lovely then as it would be now, not with the war going on. I'm sure it's beauty is hard to appreciate with something so ugly happening all around you."

He clears his throat again, still fixated on Mal's hand—and when he looks away to try to regain focus, how Regina squirms at Mal's touch, how obvious it is that she's enjoying her fingers as they gently rub the thin fabric of her dress, and how unabashed she is that this is happening in front of him.

"Y-yes, I… I always wanted to go back and see it properly. But I never got the chance."

"Did you get to enjoy it at all?"

"Well, war isn't exactly enjoyable, but—"

"No, of course it isn't."

"But I did meet my wife there, so it wasn't all bad."

"Your wife?"

Regina blinks up at him. "Tell us about her."

"Marian was… beautiful," he says, drawing in a breath and remembering the first time he saw her. "She had gorgeous brown eyes and the biggest smile, and she… she helped me to forget some of the awful things I was living through. She was… everything to me."

"How lucky that you found her when you did," Regina says, smiling softly. He nods, looking once more to Mal's hand at Regina's inner thigh, watching as Regina squirms. "You must miss her terribly."

"Everyday."

"When did she pass on?'

"About a decade ago."

"A decade?"

"Ten years?"

He nods. "Sometimes it seems that time has moved at the speed of light, like it happened yesterday—"

"And other times, it feels like an eternity," Regina supplies. It's then that he remembers she lost a fiancé, and he feels a little pang of empathy in his chest. "Has there been anyone since?"

"No," he admits. "No one."

"No one." He shakes his head as they exchange looks that he can't quite get a read on. "I can't imagine being with anyone else."

Again, they exchange looks. "You'd never have what you had with Marian," Regina says, reaching out and taking his hand. "But the thing is, you don't have to replace her." She stops somewhat abruptly before sliding to the edge of the couch. "I lost someone special, too," she admits, not knowing that he already knows. "He died in some awful trench in France."

"I'm sorry—"

"Thank you," Regina nods. "But… being with Mal has helped heal my heart in ways I didn't know it could be healed, that it even needed to be healed."

"I'm not sure that's possible for me."

For a moment, silence settles between them; and for a moment, he wonders if he's just ruined whatever was happening a few minutes before, before their conversation took the turn that it did.

Then, Mal rises up. "I think your wine needs to be topped off."

"Do you believe in an afterlife?"

He's slightly taken aback by the question, but finds himself nodding. "I have to."

"I'm sure it's a comfort," Mal says as she pours more wine, "knowing she's somewhere better than this miserable world."

Regina gives his hand a tight squeeze and her thumb presses to his wrist. "And knowing you'll see her again."

He smiles and nods. "One day."

Mal looks to Regina as she joins them again, and this time Mal's arm stretches around Regina's shoulders. Regina leans back into her and he finds himself smiling—they really are a gorgeous pair.

And then he realizes that Regina's still rubbing at his wrist and Mal is watching.

Reaching out, he takes the glass of wine and takes a long sip, trying to make sense of the evening. It's oddly somber and oddly erotic, and he's not sure it's supposed to be either of those things.

They slip into an easy conversation about his time during the war and his time after it, and like so many men of his age and experience, he focuses on the parts that are easiest to hear. Instead of muddy trenches and ever-exploding shells, he talks about the beauty of the land and adventures while on leave. He didn't have family to return to so, he often stayed abroad, exploring little nooks and crannies of places he'd only ever dreamed of visiting. And, of course, he talks about meeting Marian and how letters were his salvation, carrying him through those dark days of war.

He speaks generally, but in a way that's also oddly specific, careful not to give himself away. He's mindful of the amount of wine he drinks and he's mindful of the amount of wine they drink.

The more they drink, he realizes, the more affectionate they become—and to both his pleasure and dismay, the more distracting they become.

As they all talk, he can't help but notice the way Mal presses kisses to Regina's jaw or the way she strokes her hair. They're practically tangled together on the couch beside him, constantly touching each other and with increasing frequency, they're touching him, too. When he say something funny or something that piques their curiosity, they'll lean forward and touch their fingers to his hand or knee, their touches lingering and long-lasting. And amid one particularly emotional story, he found one of them holding his hand while the other stroked his arm.

He wasn't sure when they moved closed, but Regina's knees were touching his and Mal was rubbing her back as her chin rested on Regina's shoulder, and as he recounted a story about being promoted to a bomber, they listened with eager interest—and for a moment, it was all too easy to forget why he was there.

They asked him questions they actually seemed to care to hear the answer to and he lost himself in the story—and by the end of it, Regina's hand was rubbing at his knee, and Mal's eyes were fixed on her fingers. She was biting down on her lip and Regina was smirking in a way that couldn't be construed as anything other than seductive.

He told himself he had to be misinterpreting something and excused himself to the bathroom. Normally, he'd use such an excuse to do some snooping and lift some small trinkets that could easily be concealed in his pockets; but this time, he actually needs a moment to himself.

He's never had such trouble focusing on a goal; but there's something so alluring about Mal and Regina, and he finds that he genuinely enjoys their company—and he finds that it's only now that he realizes how truly lonely he's been since Roland left for the Pacific.

Turning on the faucet, he lets the cold water run over his hands as he draws in long and deliberate breaths. His pants are tighter than they should be and when he closes his eyes, he finds himself thinking about the kiss he'd seen them exchange—and that does nothing to calm him. It occurs to him that he could just relieve himself. He's so worked up that it wouldn't take long, and then, maybe he could focus on his target.

Instead, though, he shifts his thoughts to all of the beautiful, expensive things just laying around the house, and he thinks about the cash he could get for them. He could travel and see his son, go on all of the trips he and Marian planned but could never afford, and he could finally have a place that was all his own. All of this could be possible by walking out with merely a suitcase full of treasures—that is, if he could focus long enough to fill it.

Reaching into his pocket, he looks down at the knotted handkerchief. He squeezes it, feeling the pills inside. Drugging them would be easy enough, all he'd have to do is offer to refill their wine; then, after a few sips, he'd have the run of the house. He could take whatever he pleased and by the time they awoke, they'd be none the wiser, and probably wouldn't even realize they'd been robbed for weeks. And by then, he'd be long gone…

Clearing his throat, he turns off the water. He feels clearer now and he decides he's had enough of small talk and enough of whatever the hell else was going on. As he exits the bathroom, he makes a plan, deciding exactly what he's going to say and where he'll stand—and then, as soon as he re-enters the room, it's all blown away to pieces.

Mal and Regina are still sitting on the couch—well, he's not sure sitting is the right word for it.

Regina is laying back against the arm of the couch and Mal is on top of her. Regina's hand is tangled in Mal's hair, her carefully wound bun undone, and Mal's hand is inside of the top of Regina's dress. His lips part and his jaw drops, and suddenly, he finds it impossible to do anything other than stand there and stare.

A heavy sigh escapes one of them and the other giggles—and the composure he regained thinking about what he could do with the money from all the goods he's about to pilfer goes flying out the window.

'Uh, I… I don't mean t-to interrupt," he stammers, clearing his throat, fully expecting them to pull apart. "I, um…"

"You're not interrupting," one of them says.

"Hardly," the other agrees, his cheeks flushing slightly as he's suddenly very aware of the tightening of his pants. "Come." Regina holds out her hand and he swallows hard, then, almost as though he's in a trance, he moves toward them.

By the time, he reaches them, they've pulled apart… sort of.

They're still tangled together, but they're sitting up, both looked at him through hooded eyes. Regina's dress is open and he can see a black lace bra peeking through. Mal's skin is flushed and her black button down is open, revealing a creamy silk camisole, and the gray tie she'd been wearing is loose around her shoulders. Regina's hand is skirting up and down Mal's pant-covered thigh and Mal's tongue is flicking at Regina's earlobe. And suddenly, the tone of their earlier exchanges is no longer so questionable.

"We forgot to mention," Regina says, practically cooing in a low voice, "there's a little something else that comes with your stay."

"Something reserved for a very select few," Mal adds.

Robin swallows. "Is that so?"

Mal holds out her hand. "Of course, it's optional, but comes highly recommended."

He nods, dumbly, as he steps toward them, and as soon as he's in reach, Regina's hand folds around his. She stands up and caressing her hand over his cheek, grinning as his fingers rub against his stubbly beard. Again, he swallows as she steps in closer, brushing her lips over his and smiling, before leaning in the rest of the way to kiss him. Momentarily, he freezes, unable to believe what's happening, but when she pulls back and bites down on her lip, as her eyes focus on his, he finds himself diving back in for another kiss.

Mal says something as she stands, but he doesn't quite hear it. But she obviously approves because the next thing he knows, she is standing impossibly close. Her hand slips around the back of his head and her lips press to his cheek, traveling over his jaw and neck, then back up—and when her hand forms around his palm, she gives him a little tug. It's then that Regina pulls away, smiling as she looks to Mal. Regina takes his other hand, then leans in to kiss Mal—and he just stands there, watching as they trade an open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues tease each other and they giggle softly as they pull away.

"Would you like to come upstairs with us?"

He blinks.

"We promise, it'll be a good time."

He feels himself nodding as they pull him toward the stairs, deciding there was no harm in having a little fun before he went.

Regina's eyes meet Mal's momentarily, and she grins as Mal offers her a little wink.

She's perched at Robin's side, her lips sucking at his neck and jaw while her hands tug at his shirt as they walk. "Almost there," she whispers to him. "Then the fun can really begin."

Robin blinks and looks at her, grinning as Mal's fingers curl around his as she leads the way down the long corridor.

She and Mal have done this more than a dozen times now.

She's good at spotting them—the lonely ones without anyone to love them—and she's good at dragging out their story. It's not hard. They're usually quite eager to talk to someone with a willing ear and remember better times. They tell her about the wives they've lost—usually tragically and too soon—and they tell her about the full lives they used to live. They tell her about the jobs they held and the children they raised, and then, inevitably, something darkens in their eyes, as they talk about how hard times hit. Hard times hit everyone, of course, but some recovered more easily than others. It was luck, after all, and luck was either something you had or didn't have.

In those times, they lost children to various things—disease, starvation, alcohol—and then, just as things seemed to be improving, their war broke out and claimed their sons, and sometimes, their daughters too.

It wasn't fair, but that was life.

Well, that was this life.

The first was Leopold Blanchard, a sad man with sunken eyes.

His wife had fallen ill years before, and the daughter he doted on was lost in an air-raid overseas. Her young daughter was with her. He'd held onto hope as the rubble of the building was sorted, but each day, hope slipped away until finally, he received a telegram explaining they'd been found, crushed by a beam of their top-floor apartment. He said the saving grace of it all was that he'd never have to tell his son-in-law as he went missing in action the following week, and years later, there was still no sign of him.

They're together now, he'd mused as his shoulder shrugged.

As she and Mal listened, they couldn't get over how sad it was or how hard it would be to live when everyone you loved was gone, just counting down the days until he could join them again.

And then Mal had suggested it.

She held her breath as Mal wondered aloud if that process could be sped up, wondering if he could join them sooner than he anticipated.

She'd nodded, agreeing that would be nice, and they both agreed it was the most merciful thing they could do.

A service, really.

And they decided that his time in their house would be filled with smiles—a proper send off, they'd reasoned.

Mal made a pot roast with potatoes and carrots, and it seemed a lucky coincidence that the asparagus she'd accidentally planted was ready as that was his favorite. They made a hollandaise sauce that everyone claimed was to die for, and baked a fresh loaf of bread. They took incredible pleasure in watching him rip into the loaf and inhale deeply, remembering the bread his wife used to bake.

They let him choose the music and the wine, and by the end of it, he was well-fed and happily reminiscing with them. He'd been sitting between them on the couch in front of the fire when Mal's hand fell to his leg—and the rest simply fell into place as naturally as it could.

They took him upstairs and fucked him silly—and then, reasoning that they'd worked up his appetite again, gave him a midnight snack, just before bed. The apple turnover was laced with a lethal dose of arsenic, and Leopold Blanchard died in his sleep, happily content and practically beaming.

Since then, there'd been a steady string of others.

Each was a little different, so each's experiences were a little altered; but she and Mal had the whole thing down to a routine. And though it was designed for the pleasure of their guest, she couldn't say that they didn't get some pleasure from it, too.

Especially when their guests looked the way Robin Locksley did.

Robin wasn't quite like the others. He fit the mold, but had a quality about him that set him apart. Regina couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, and she supposed, in the end, it didn't really matter. She liked him, though, more than she'd liked the others, and it seemed that Mal did, too—and that added a little extra thrill.

"Is, um… is this your bedroom?"

"No," Mal tells him, grinning.

"It's our playroom."

His brows arch as Regina steps around him and Mal opens the door.

She tugs him inside as Mal closes the door behind them and flicks on the light, and as she does, Regina reaches for the buttons on his shirt. She grins as her fingers trace around one as her eyes slowly shift up to meet his. Robin swallows hard as she leans in and her fingers tighten around his shirt, then just as her lips brush over his, she rips open his shirt and pushes it off of his shoulders.

She grins at his surprise, and takes a step in, pressing her lips to his.

"You'll have to excuse her," Mal coos as she comes up behind him, her fingers pushing up at his bare arms. "She gets… a little overly excited sometimes."

Robin makes a mmm sound in acknowledgement—he doesn't seem to mind.

Instead, he focuses on kissing her back, his intensity matching hers. His hand tangles in her hair, cupping the back of her head and drawing her closer—and in spite of herself, she feels her knees weakening a bit.

Her eyes flutter open momentarily as Mal presses a kiss to her shoulder, and she grins as Mal's hand slips down his arm and around his torso. He lets out a breath and she laughs against his mouth when Mal's hand slips into the front of his pants, her palm cupping him.

A bit reluctantly, she breaks the kiss, her eyes briefly meeting Robin's as she grins and looks to Mal, deciding she wants to watch them play as she undresses.

Regina takes a step back, sitting down on the edge of the bed as she slowly pulls off her heels, watching as Mal circles around Robin and takes her place. Her hand remains in his pants and given the little gasp that escapes him, her fingers have slipped inside of his shorts. Grinning knowingly, she thinks of Mal's long fingers, curled around Robin's cock, slowly pumping back and forth

She pulls off her stockings and then stands to shimmy out of her dress.

A coy little grin edges onto her lips as she runs her hands over her lacy bra, cupping and squeezing her breasts, tweaking her nipples as she steps toward Robin and Mal, not wanting to wait any longer before joining them.

She presses a kiss to Mal's cheek, catching the corner of Robin's mouth when she does, and for a quick second, he looks to her. She offers him a wink as she steps toward him, placing her hands on his cheeks and turning his head and pulling him into a kiss.

Mal takes the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants, cupping him through his boxers.

Regina pulls back as Mal's hand slips inside of them, once again taking his cock in her hand.

He groans and smiles as her fingers once more curl around his shaft, stroking him slowly—and Mal grins back at her, enjoying how much he seems to be enjoying her touch.

She circles around Mal, reaching around her and tugging her black button down free. She undoes the buttons that are still done up and pulls off the shirt, grinning to find only a thin, silky camisole beneath it. She kisses her shoulder as her hands move to her waist and she unbuttons Mal's pants, pulling them down and taking her satin underwear with them.

She notices that Robin's watching.

Mal's hand is still in his shorts and her lips are sucking at his neck. One of his hands is tangled in her hair and the other rests upon the edge of the nearby dresser, steadying himself.

Regina offers him a little wink as she sinks down behind Mal. Her fingers slip between her legs—and god, she's already so wet—and she watches as Robin watches two of her fingers sink into her. Mal lets out a little sigh, parting her legs to give her more access and Robin's breathing becomes more labored as he watches Regina's fingers sliding easily in and out of Mal.

She kisses her hip and her thigh, lowering herself as she pushes Mal's leg's apart, leaning in and swiping her tongue through the wet slit between her legs. She grins as Robin watches, slack jawed and unabashed and Mal lets out a low moan that's just as much for Robin as it is for her.

"She tastes so good," Regina coos as she looks to Robin, her tongue slipping once more into Mal before her tongue flicks against her clit. Mal moans again and Robin stares, and Regina watches as Mal's hand pumps a little faster along Robin's shaft.

His eyes flutter, and Mal notices—and that's when Mal steps away from both of them, leaving both her and Robin frowning.

"Not yet," she says, looking between them and smirking as she sashays toward the bed, and reaches into the night stand, pulling out two silky purple ties. "Come here. Both of you."

They both comply and Regina grins as she goes to sit beside her.

"You're overdressed, dear," she purrs, noting Regina's lace panties and bra.

Regina shrugs as she reaches for one of the silk ties in her hand. "I'm sure you'll do something about that soon."

Mal grins and nods, and they both look back to Robin. "Lay down."

He blinks, noticing the silk ties. "What are you—"

"You'll like it. I promise."

"You'll love it, actually."

He nods and crawls onto the bed trusting them. "And what exactly am I going to love?" He smirks. "Not arguing, just curious."

"Being at our mercy," Mal explains, grinning. "Lay down."

"It's just an extra bit of fun," Regina tells him, dangling one of the scarves over him. "If you don't like it, we'll switch it up."

"But everyone loves this."

"Everyone—"

"I told you, this is something that comes with the package you got."

"The package—"

"A perk of your stay here," Regina clarifies.

He blinks and reaches for the silk tie, wrapping his fingers around it. "You're going to tie me up?"

"And give you a blowjob that'll have you seeing stars."

He blinks and looks between them, then hands the tie back to Regina. She and Mal both laugh as they move to either side of him, tying each of his arms to the bed poles. He looks a bit nervous as they exchange looks, but his erect cock jumps a bit, so as nervous as he might look, he's also excited.

Regina crawls over him, placing her knees on either side of him, and she reaches for Mal, pulling her into a kiss. Regina reaches for the hem of her camisole, tugging it up and off, breaking the kiss just long enough to discard the thin garment and leave her completely naked.

Robin swallows as he watches them and she grins as she looks back at his unattended cock, erect and ready for attention.

She reaches for it, but Mal shakes her hand and pulls her hand back. "Not yet."

Regina frowns and Robin pouts, but before he can complain, Mal's hand slips into the front of Regina's lace panties.

"She's so wet," Mal says, looking to him. Regina sucks in a breath as Mal's fingers slip against her, quickly finding her clit and rolling it between her fingers. "And her clit is so hard," Mal says, looking to Robin and grinning, knowing that he can't reach out and touch either of them. "Do you want me to pull off her panties, so you can see?"

He swallows hard and nods.

"What do you think?" Mal asks, looking to her. "Should I finger you while he watches?"

Regina doesn't reply, instead, her fingers loop inside of her underwear and she pulls them down, grinning as they drop to Robin's stomach. Mal grins as she gets up on her knees and gets behind Regina—and Regina watches as Robin's eyes fall to Mal's hand between her legs.

Regina moans as Mal's fingers pleasure her, pumping in and out of her as her thumb rubs at her clit.

It feels so good and her breath grows ragged, and she thinks about how hot it'd be to come, right then and there, hovering over Robin as he watches—but as she loses herself in that fantasy, to both her and Robin's dismay, Mal pulls back.

"Oh, Regina. We're being so rude."

Regina's brows arch, as she looks back at Mal, who only grins.

"We're practically ignoring him."

"I, uh… I don't mind. I was rather enjoying—"

Mal shakes her head. "But we promised you some attention."

Drawing in a breath, Regina nods and moves to Robin's side as Mal moves to the other. "We did promise him a blowjob."

She laughs as Robin's interest seems to pique, and he looks down at his erection, jutting up in front of him, looking nearly painful and in such need of relief. Licking her lips, she looks to Mal. "Do you want to start, or can I?"

Mal considers it for a moment, reaching out and tracing her finger over her jaw. "You start," she tells her, "but take off your bra first. I want something to suck on, too."

Nodding, Regina offers Robin a quick wink before reaching around herself and unclasping her bra. He watches eagerly as she slowly pulls it away from her body, sitting up a little straighter and pushing back her shoulders as he stares at her chest.

"Aren't they perfect?" Mal asks. "A perfect handful." Mal giggles softly as she watches Robin try to reach for Regina, unable to. "Soon," she tells him. "Just be patient and enjoy what's happening now."

Regina grins.

Mal loves this—loves pacing out their sexual escapades and making each moment last as long as possible, never letting her loves get too hasty or over zealous.

Mal repositions herself next to Regina, and as Regina reaches for Robin's cock, Mal reaches for one of her breasts, kneading it gently and rolling Regina's nipple between her fingers—and from the corner of her eye, she can see that Robin isn't sure where to look.

Her hand forms around his cock and she watches the way her thumb and middle finger just barely touch. Grinning, she shrugs her eyebrow at him—he's going to feel so good inside of her, stretching and filling her as he fucks her.

But that, she reminders herself, will come later.

After all, they have all night.

For a couple of seconds, she strokes him, letting her hand slip up and down his shaft a few times, her thumb reaching back and rubbing over his balls. Looking up at him, she grins and wonders when the last time he came was—or really, the last time someone made him come—and she wonders if it'll be her or Mal who will have the honor of getting to do it first.

Her hand moves to his balls, cupping them and massaging as Mal pulls back her hair. She lowers her mouth to him. Her tongue swirls around the tip of his cock and she grins. He's breathing a little harder than he was before and he's biting down on his lip in anticipation, just waiting for her warm, wet lips to slide down his ready cock.

She swirls her tongue a few more times, momentarily looking back at Mal, who's stroking her hair and sucking on her bare shoulder as she holds her breast in her palm.

Robin lets out a little sigh and she looks back to him, grinning as her lips slip down over the head of his cock. He groans and she keeps her eyes on him as she lowers herself, taking him into her mouth.

Mal's hand slips down her back as she adjusts herself, giving Regina the room to reposition herself between Robin's legs. Her hand continues kneading at her breast and once more, she pulls her hair out of the way, as Regina takes him in completely.

She draws in deliberate breaths as she looks up at Robin, gagging slightly and letting the vibrations of her throat work their magic.

"Oh, fuck, that's good," he mutters breathily.

"Her mouth does amazing things," Mal adds, as she settles back at Regina's side. This time, though, she slides down, taking her nipple in her mouth, sucking hard at it as she watches Regina ease herself up. Mal moves with her as she drags her lips up Robin's cock, grinning as he groans in enjoyment.

For awhile, she enjoys the feeling of Mal's warm lips on one breast while her fingers knead at the other, while she keeps her attention on their guest. Her head bobs up and down, and her hand, lips and tongue slide against his cock and occasionally his balls, and every time he grunts or groans, she feels a sort of satisfaction that only comes when bringing someone else pleasure.

She's vaguely aware of Mal's lips traveling away from her breast and up over her clavicle, then to her jaw. Mal sits up and her hand falls away from her other breast, moving to her back as she edges a bit closer.

She grins, knowing what's coming, and her eyes shift up to watch Robin.

Mal kisses her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, and Regina lips close around the tip of Robin's cock—then as a smile draws onto her lips, she turns slightly to face Mal, who leans in to kiss her.

Robin jumps a little and grunts as Mal's lips touch to his cock, and her tongue swirls around it. Mal's lips are warm and wet, and her hand joins Regina's on Robin's shaft. Regina sucks a little harder, her lips touching to Mal's and their tongues chasing each other's around his head. Regina's hand slips down, cupping his balls and letter her fingers massage them, and when she opens her eyes to catch a glimpse of Robin, his head is pressed back into the pillow and he looks on the verge of climax.

He groans, his breath growing ragged, as his cock beings to jerk and his balls tighten up in her palm.

And that's when Mal grabs both sides of her face, pulling her away from Robin and removing the sensations driving him to the brink of coming.

He looks up, swallowing hard, and as she turns away from Regina's kiss, she smiles. "Not yet."

He blinks and looks to Regina. "She likes it to be earned and as frustrating as that is, it feels so much better when you wait."

He offers a half nod and a sigh, pushing his head back into the pillow as he breathes.

Mal laughs and stretches out beside him, peppering his chest with kisses. For a moment, Regina just watches—and every now and then, she sees Mal give him a little nip. The first surprises him, but he smiles and bites down on his lip at the rest, seemingly enjoying it.

She likes watching Mal this way—curled around another lover—and as her tongue darts out to trace Robin's lips, she finds herself reaching between her legs.

Dipping two fingers inside of herself, she rocks against her hand, watching as Mal's lips find Robin's. Slowly but surely he comes down from his high, still very much aroused but no longer nearing the point of explosion. Mal kisses and nips, and he tries to catch her lips in his—and for a moment, she thinks she could just sit back and happily finger fuck herself as they tease each other.

But the temptation to join them is too great, and after a couple of minutes, she stretches out on the other side of Robin.

"What next?" Regina whispers, practically purring as her fingers flit against his chest. "Tell us what you want."

He blinks and looks at her. He looks surprised. "I thought you two were in charge."

"Well, we are," Mal coos, pressing her lips to his chest and looking up at him through hooded eyes. "But this is about your pleasure, you know. You are the guest, here."

Regina grins. "It'd be so unfortunate if you walked away from this unsatisfied."

At that, he scoffs and clears his throat. "There's little chance of that."

"So, tell us."

"Yeah," Mal murmurs, her went lips gliding up his throat. "Tell us what you want us to do to you."

He considers for a moment, looking between them, and Regina grins and slips down between his legs once more. He groans a little as her fingers form around his cock. "There has to be something—"

"I want to watch."

"Watch—"

Mal sits up a little and grins. "You want to watch… us?"

He nods. "I want to watch you two together."

"Mm—"

"And I want to be able to touch you."

Mal giggles as she leans in and brushes her lips over his. "Are you saying you want to be untied?"

He offers a half grin and a nod. "All good things must come to an end, right?"

"Sometimes, they have to for something better to begin," Regina adds, smirking as she continues to stroke him slowly. "I have been curious about what you can do with those hands—"

Mal nods as she leans up Robin's body, her pert little breasts just out of reach of Robin's mouth. "Earlier, I watched him rolling a coin and—" She stops, breathing in a shaky breath. "I couldn't help but wonder what else those nimble fingers could do."

Regina smiles as Mal unknots one of the ties and Robin's wrist falls free—and immediately, it's reaching for one of Mal's breasts. He squeezes it as his head drops down, his tongue darting out to tease her nipple. Letting go of his cock, she crawls up beside them, dipping her head down to suck on Mal's other breast.

Mal frees his other hand and almost immediately, she feels it on her ass—rubbing roughly and squeezing. She looks up at him and grins, and his gaze momentarily catches hers.

"Don't be shy," Mal tells him. "She likes it rough."

Robin's brow arches and as her tongue swirls around Mal's nipple, she nods—when she's in the mood for it, she does, and as his fingers press harder into her skin, she thinks she's in the mood.

"Harder," Mal instructs. "She likes it. I promise."

Again, Robin looks to her, and she bites down on her lip, nodding. A smirk edges onto his lips as he sits up and reaches for her. Her heart skips a beat as he pulls her into his arms, her breath catching in her throat as his hands grab roughly at her ass, squeezing hard as he takes a handful of flesh.

Instinctively, her arms wrap around his shoulders and she grins at the momentary loss of control, liking that she has no idea what's about to happen—usually, their time with their guests doesn't go down this route.

Mal gets up on her knees and whispers something into his ear. His brows arch and he gives her another squeeze. This time his harder and rougher, and she squeezes herself closer to him as she wriggles at his touch. Her breasts push against his chest. Mal kisses her shoulder and then drags her lips against her jaw, and then, as Mal's lips brush over hers, Robin smacks his hand to her ass.

She gasps and squirms—and then, she pulls back a little and smiles.

He does it again and then again and she can feel herself getting wetter—it stings so good.

Mal nips at her ear and Robin eases her down onto her back. Instinctively, she spreads her legs, looking up at him and waiting to see what he'll do next. Mal settles up above her, her knees on either side of her head. Her fingers are like feathers, ghosting down over her shoulders and over her breasts, momentarily distracting her. She giggles as Mal leans forward, leaning over her face as her hair creates a little curtain around her that tickles her chin—and then, as Mal's tongue slips into her mouth, she feels Robin's hand between her legs.

He drags a couple of fingers down her slit, circling around her clit before going back down again, feeling just how wet she is. He repeats the motion a couple of times, each time pressing a little harder, each time making her squirm just a little more. Mal laughs as she writhes under his touch—and, oh, god, she never expected this to go this way or to feel this good.

But she won't complain.

His fingers plunge into her, his thumb pressing hard against her clit. Instead of pulling them out and pushing them back in, he leaves them inside, curling them and hitting that spot that sends shivers through her—and he hits it again and again and again, all the while keeping steady pressure on her clit.

She's not sure when, but at some point Mal sat up and is just watching. Her fingers grip the sheets and she feels an orgasm coming on, and before she can slow herself down, before she can catch herself, her back arches up and her hips begin to thrust against his hand. She loses herself completely, thrashing against him and all the while, his fingers stay firmly in place.

Finally, she feels her breathing returning to normal and her hips fall back against the sheets. She looks to Mal who grins and strokes her hair, then she turns her head and looks back to their guest. "I knew I liked you," she purrs.

"Yeah? You liked that?" he asks, leaning over her and kissing her mouth. She can feel his cock touching her, and if he angled himself just a little differently, she could wrap her legs around him and pull him close—and for a moment, she lets herself think of how good he'd feel inside of her, riding her to another orgasm.

But the thought is a fleeting one.

Robin pulls back, pushing his fingers between her wet folds again and giving it a little slap, before retreating.

He settles back against the pillows, leaving her breathless as he takes his cock in his hand.

"I want to watch," he reminds them.

And Mal needs him to say no more.

She's still sitting by her head, and she crawls down her body, dropping her head down as she rubs at Regina's thighs. She can feel her breath on her and it's warm in contrast to the wetness between her legs—and then, Mal wriggles down a little more, positioning her own wet slit right above her face.

It doesn't take long before Regina's lips meet her warm, moist skin, her tongue dragging through the sleek folds and over her hard clit—and as she licks her, Mal does the same.

Mal takes it slowly, understanding just how sensitive her last orgasm left her—and every now and then, she's vaguely aware of Robin's eyes on them, watching them as he strokes his cock.

Her tongue fucks Mal and her hands grab at her thighs. Mal moans loudly—both as a result of her own pleasure and an effort to make the show worthwhile for Robin—and smiles against her as her tongue drags to her clit. Reaching up, she pushes two fingers into Mal, fucking her with them as she sucks hard at her clit—and when she feels her tensing, she fucks her faster, inserting a third finger, and sending her right over the edge.

Robin grunts as he draws in a ragged breath as Mal comes.

She rolls off her and grabs at his leg, squeezing as her knees arch upward, and Regina dives in, hooking her arms under her legs and licking her until she's whimpering writhing.

"Oh, fuck," Robin mutters, staring unabashedly at them as he watches.

When Mal's orgasm has run its course, Regina sits up and grins. "It seems awfully unfair that we've both come and you still haven't been able to."

"Y-you said I couldn't," he reminds her, drawing in a long and deliberate breath, knowing that he's right on the edge. "I didn't think I had permission."

"Well, I didn't say that," Regina tells him.

"No," Mal agrees as she rolls on her stomach. "I did."

"A-are you saying—"

"I'm saying I want you to have your way with her," Mal tells him. "I want you to fuck her." Regina grins, already climbing into his lap as he looks to her. "Make her come again."

"And me?"

"You've been so good to us," Mal tells him, grinning coyly. "We could never deny you."

Robin looks back at her and slowly, his eyes look between them, watching as she positions herself above his cock—and with just one thrust, he could be fully inside of her.

But he doesn't push forward or pull her down, instead, he just holds her there for a minute.

He kisses her neck and wraps his arms around her, rubbing his hands over her ass as Mal moves up the bed to sit beside him. She kisses his neck and jaw, pressing herself against him.

"Go ahead," she whispers. "Fuck her. You know you want to."

And so he does.

Without warning, he rolls them over, pushing her down onto her back as he thrusts into her—and then, he does just as he was instructed.

Robin slams into her, fucking her hard and releasing all of the frustration that's been pent up inside of him all night. Mal lays beside her, turning her face toward her and kissing her, every now and then, nipping at her lips. His balls slap against her ass with every thrust, and though it only lasts a handful of minutes, she feels another orgasm building up. With one last rough thrust, he buries himself inside of her as he explodes.

Another orgasm ripples through her. It's not as intense as the first, but it still has her bucking beneath him and grasping for Mal—and then, as she comes down from the high, Mal giggles and pecks her lips.

Robin rolls off of her, laying breathlessly beside her, his cock softening against his thigh.

"I think we've all earned a glass of wine," Mal coos, rolling off the bed. "Don't you?"

Regina nods, panting as she watches her go to the little bar—she knows what's coming next, she knows the next move. She feels an odd pang at her chest—this one is so much more full of life than the others, and she wonders if she pegged him incorrectly. But then she thinks of the way he talked about his wife and remembers the sadness that overtook him, how his heart had been unable to heal, and she reminds herself that he'll be happier when it's over. And he deserves that.

Robin's heart still races as he lays naked beside Regina.

His head is foggy and he tries to remember his original plan—and when he considers it, he feels a prickle of guilt, almost hating to steal from them when they gave him such a memorable evening.

But the truth is, neither Mal nor Regina will miss what he takes, they likely won't even notice anything amiss.

He sits up and watches as Mal pours them all a full glass of wine, the same mulberry wine that was served with dinner—the same homemade wine that was just sweet enough to not taste like wine at all, and just smooth enough that you could drink glass after glass, not realizing just how drunk you were getting.

She didn't bother to cover up, and her skin is glistening and flushed, and when Regina rolls off the bed, excusing herself to the bathroom to clean up, she doesn't cover up either.

There's a part of him that wonders if there will be another round. Though he's not nearly ready, he wouldn't mind getting the chance to fuck Mal or taste Regina, and his head begins to spin with what now seems like missed opportunities as he wonders if there's the possibility for a second round.

And then, he reminds himself that, as fun as that would be, it would not be conducive to his plan.

As nice and as pleasurable as their deviation was, it was a distraction from the plan, and the whole point of him taking a room that night was to execute his plan. He'd worked on it for months. He's gotten the house's blueprints and memorized every twist and turn and secret passageway. He knew about the room behind the bookshelves in the library and the tunnel that led to the river where Regina's family had brought in bootleg booze during Prohibition.

He'd spent the entire day making mental lists of things he wanted, carefully choosing what he knew to be the most valuable items, items that could easily be plucked and easily pawned.

And he already knew exactly what he was going to do with the money.

But if he stayed in bed with them, if he got drunk with them and passed out, it'd all be for nothing, and while he knew he'd enjoy it all immensely in the moment, he'd be sorry later on and he didn't know what excuse he'd provide to John.

He sighed at himself. He'd spun quite the lie about his son's whereabouts, but he couldn't exactly tell them that his son had followed in his father's footsteps and was making a life as a common thief.

"Wine?" Mal asks, holding out a glass. "You have to be parched."

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I'm not very thirsty."

"But it's so tasty."

"Oh, I don't deny that, I'm just not in the mood for wine."

Mal frowns, looking personally injured. She bats her eyes and pouts, and again, he almost feels bad enough to take it. But again, he shakes his head. "No, thank you. Maybe in a bit."

"Okay," she agrees, setting the glass on the night stand beside him.

"So, tell me," he says looking around, his eyes settling on his pants as he remembers the sleeping pills tucked inside of his pocket. "Why do you call this your playroom?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Mal asks, cocking her brow at him as she climbs back onto the bed, curling her feet beneath herself. "We come here to play."

"With guests," Regina tells him.

He nods. "All of your guests?"

"No," Mal admits, grinning at him. "Just the ones we like."

"I feel special," he says, again feeling a little pang of guilt as he grins back at her.

"You should," she tells him. "Regina picks them and—"

"How?"

"Just… something that catches my eye," Regina replies, coming out of the bathroom. "Someone I find attractive—"

"You find me attractive?" he asks, laughing.

"Oh, I think you know that I do," she tells him, sitting down on the bed beside Mal and accepting a glass of wine. "Are you not having any wine?"

"I'm not very thirsty."

"After all that?" she asks.

He nods and shrugs. "Crazy, I know."

His eyes narrow as he watches them exchange looks, and he can't help but notice, that neither of them is drinking the wine either.

"And when the two of you don't have guests, do you come in here to play?"

Regina grins as she looks to Mal. "Sometimes, depending on what we want to do."

Robin takes a breath, reminding himself not to get too excited, reminding himself that he has a goal. "Depending on…"

"How hard we want to play," Mal explains. "We have costumes and toys—"

"Costumes and toys—"

"Yes, among other things," Regina says. "Sometimes fingers and tongues just aren't enough."

"That's why we're always glad when we have a guest that we like."

"I see," he murmurs, clearing his throat and again reminding himself not to let his mind travel as Mal gives him a little wink. "That's… that's, umm…"

"Adds some variety."

"Ah, right."

"And we like variety."

"I see."

He blinks, wondering how he's going to manage prying himself away and finding himself unable to do the obvious and just excuse himself to bed. He's intrigued by them, more so than he should be. He's spent a lifetime living off of assumptions about Regina Mills and now that he has her in front of him, every single one seems to be wrong.

Shifting, he eases back against a pillow. "Do you… sleep here?"

"Sometimes," Mal says.

"Not often, though," Regina adds. "There's something nice about slipping into a hot bath and soft pajamas after sex—"

"And usually our guests retire to their rooms afterward."

"Is that a hint?" he asks, laughing softly.

"No," Regina tells him. "Quite the contrary."

He's not sure how to take that. It sounds like she's inviting him to bed again, but this time in a more intimate setting. But he's not entirely sure and he has to remind himself that that's not why he's there, so he lets it go and doesn't inquire further.

He wonders, if perhaps, though, the sleeping pills will be unnecessary. Perhaps, he can return to his own room and they'll return to theirs and do just as Regina said—slip into a hot bath that'll soothe them and lull them into sleep… and give him full run of the house.

"I'm noting a theme," he tells them. "Variety, I mean."

"How so?"

"Well, I couldn't help but notice the variety of your collections,' he says, hoping he's not tipping his hand. "You've exquisite taste, but no room is quite like the other."

Regina grins. "When I see something I want, I don't worry about it fitting a particular mold."

"And when she sees something she wants, I don't hesitate in... getting it for her."

Robin blinks, not sure how to take that. There's something about the way she says it, the way her eyes glimmer at the word getting, like there's more to it than that. Of course, people like Malvina Briarly and Regina Mills could get anything they wanted; they had the money to buy whatever caught their eye. Yet, it seems more complicated than that—and oddly, he finds himself thinking about the little elephant he swiped earlier that day. Perhaps he saw it for sale in a gallery or in a jeweler's shop, perhaps he nearly swiped it once before, and perhaps it's all just coincidence.

Drawing in a breath, he feigns a yawn.

"Well I am one very satisfied customer," he tells them, "And I think I'd like to try and get some sleep. I've got an early morning, after all."

"Right—"

"You mentioned—"

Did he?

He's not sure.

Maybe he did, but he's been deliberately coy.

"Is there, um... is there a robe or—"

"Oh, oh, of course," Regina says, getting up quickly and going to the closest to retrieve a silk robe. "This should do the trick," she tells him, smiling gently as he takes the burgundy robe with navy blue trim—and he can't help but notice the monogram on the front pocket. He traces the curly GH with his finger, looking up quizzically as he slips it on and ties it around his waist. "Oh, I hope you don't mind. It was left here by another guest."

He nods. "Of course. That makes sense."

"Graham… something or another," Mal says, looking to Regina. "Years ago—"

"Such a nice man," Regina says, nodding as she frowns. "Lonely, though."

"Yes," Mal agrees. "We showed him a good time, though."

"Yes, he quite enjoyed himself."

They both giggle at the shared memory and he smiles. "Well, I can attest to that. This was indeed an enjoyable end to the night."

Pulling on the robe, he bids them a good night and collects his clothes from the floor. It's all a bit awkward, but they don't seem to acknowledge that, telling him good night and wishing him a restful night.

"You'll join us for breakfast?" Regina asks, calling out to him as he steps into the hall.

"I wouldn't miss it," he tells her—and he means that.

He hadn't meant to stay, but he thinks he will; after all, nothing he swipes will be noticable, and the thought of sharing another meal with them is too tempting to pass up.

He hurries to his room, discarding the silk robe on the bed after locking himself in, and he goes into the adjoining bathroom, flicking on the light. He draws in a breath and turns on the water, still reeling from the events of the evening and trying to refocus his thoughts. He splashes water on his face and reaches for a wash cloth, giving himself a sponge bath as he thinks through how the next few hours will go.

Eventually, Regina and Mal will fall asleep, and even if they don't, the rooms he's most interested in are at the other end of the house. He'll slip through easily without notice.

He'll start in the library and snag a few of the Roman coins that caught his eye, and then select a few small pieces of art. There was a little oil painting tucked away on a high shelf, sitting atop a row of books, and he knew it to be the work of a romantic painter whose name he forgot. Nonetheless, he'd seen similar words go at auction for more than he usually made in a half of a year. There were other trinkets he was interested in—a jeweled snuff box that looked of Indian origins and a pen that had a casing made of pure ivory.

As he wrings out the wash cloth and turns off the faucet, he's feeling more himself, and when he enters the bedroom, he folds Graham Something-or-Another's robe up and tucks it into his bag. It's not worth much, but it's real silk and he can probably convince some poor sap that it belonged to a duke or a prince and get three times it's worth.

He pulls on his own pajama bottoms and plops down on the bed, grinning dumbly as he thinks back to the events that transpired after dinner. He closes his eyes, remembering certain bits that were particularly enjoyable to him.

A door closing snaps him from his thoughts and he realizes that it was likely their bedroom door. Slowly, he gets up, peering down the hall. He can hear their hushed, distant voices and he grins as the light goes out, and then their voices fade.

Quietly, he shuts his door and reaches for the folded up canvas Air Force-issued duffle inside of his other bag. He unzips it and then refolds it, tucking it into the waistband of his pants. He pulls on a t-shirt and then goes back to the door, turning off his light before quietly opening the door. He peers down the hall; there's no light coming out from underneath their door or any other, and he hears no voices.

He feels a rush of adrenaline as he creeps quietly down the hall, careful not to make a sound as he heads for the stairs that connect the house's wings with only the house's bounty on his mind.

Regina watches as Mal pulls herself up onto the counter, watching as she mixes dry ingredients for the breakfast casserole she plans to serve the next morning—and despite the fact that Robin's will be laced with arsenic, leaving him dead long before noon, she still follows the recipe to a T, ensuring his last meal will be as satisfying as it can be.

"Did you mix up the eggs?"

"Of course."

"I need one for—" Regina stops and looks to the kitchen door, noting that Mal looked, too. "Did you hear something?"

Sliding off of the counter, Mal nods. "Foot steps."

Regina's eyes widen a bit and she reaches for the arsenic, hiding the amber bottle in her palm. "Robin"

"Who else?" Mal says, shrugging. "But whomever it is, they're coming this way." Sighing, Regina bites down on her lip; Mal doesn't look nearly as worried. "It's completely reasonable that we'd be up," Mal says in a hushed voice. "After all, it's just the two of us running this place, and breakfast won't make itself."

"That's true."

"And these things take time."

"Especially if they're done right."

"Do you have the arsenic?" Regina nods, holding it up. "Hide it. In the flour," Mal instructs. "He's getting closer."

Regina shoves the bottle into the flour, quickly retracting her hand as she watches the door—and as she hears the footsteps getting closer, she holds her breath.

A moment later, the door begins to open and Mal steps forward, standing in front of it and blocking the counter—and just as they suspected, their guest comes into view.

"Oh, Robin," Mal says, feigning a sigh of relief. "It's just you."

"We thought we were being burglarized!"

Robin blinks as he looks between them—and as her eyes shift to the bag in his hand, she wonders if her hyperbole wasn't at all hyperbole.

"Are you… leaving?" Mal asks, nodding to the bag. "I thought you planned to stay until morning."

"Um, I was just… dropping off…"

"That bag looks awfully full," Mal says, her eyes shifting back to him. "Fuller than when you arrived."

Regina's eyes narrow. He looks guilty.

"I've always been rubbish at folding up my clothes."

"So is my son," Regina says as she rounds the counter, "But that bag looks awfully heavy."

"Yes," Mal agrees. "It certainly does."

Robin swallows and shifts on his feet—and when he does, the paper bag of flour tips forward and the little amber bottle of arsenic that they'd spent the entire evening trying conceal comes rolling out.

"Is… is that...poison?" Robin asks, zeroing in on the bottle. "Are you two… trying to poison me?"

Mal blinks. "Are you trying to rob us?"

Regina can't help but grin at the exchange, and something changes in Robin's face. No longer does he look guilty as though caught red-handed. "At least a robbery isn't fatal and doesn't ruin a perfectly good meal."

Mal's shoulder square. "That depends on what's in the bag."

"And my meal isn't ruined," Regina adds unnecessarily, insulted at the implication.

"Oh, no," Robin laughs. "I just would be."

"Again," Mal says, hoisting the bag to the countertop. "That'll depend on what's in the bag."

She pulls back the zipper and Regina feels a little gasp bubble up from her as she notices the little elephant from the library. "Oh, Robin. How could you?" she asks, plucking it up from the bag. "This is one of my favorites."

"Need I remind the two of you that you were going to try to murder me in the morning."

Regina blinks. "Only because it didn't happen tonight."

Mal laughs as Robin's eyes widen. "This all could've been avoided, you see."

"You two are mad."

"No," Regina says, shaking her head. "Just disappointed."

"You've no idea the lengths I went to to steal that for her. It wasn't easy."

Robin's eyes shift to Mal.

"Morocco isn't exactly around the corner."

He blinks, and realization settles in his eyes. "You… stole that from Morocco."

"Yes, a jeweler there had it," Mal says plainly. "An heirloom, of sorts."

"It belonged to a Sultan," he murmurs.

"Yes," Regina says, her eyes narrowing as she wonders how he could've known such a detail as neither she nor Mal offered it up when they gave him a tour of the library. "And it's very precious to me."

A grin curls onto Mal's lips as she looks up at Robin, whose staring dumbly at her as though in shock. "Are you surprised to learn you're not the only thief here?"

"Frankly," he murmurs, clearing his throat. "I am."

"I have to admit," Mal says as she takes a step toward him. "I didn't see this coming. You were quite convincing."

"Was it all a lie?"

Robin looks up, his eyes meeting hers, and he shakes his head. "No, not all of it."

Regina grins. "The parts about your wife—"

"All true."

"And your son?"

"Half true."

Regina looks to Mal. "Perhaps he's not as lonely as we thought."

Robin's eyes fall, like he's about to say something—but then, as he looks up, his eyes widen and he seems to change course. "Is that why you were going to poison me?" he asks. "Is that what happened to the man whose robe I wore? You said he was lonely, too."

"We did him a favor," Regina says. "He died incredibly smiling."

Robin blinks and Mal nods as a soft smile curls onto her lips as she remembers. "He's in a better place now, a happier one—"

"With the family he lost as a boy."

"So tragically."

"He never was able to recover."

"No," Mal agrees. "And now, he doesn't have to. He's with them, as he should be."

Robin looks taken aback and decidedly whiter. "Do you need to sit down?" Regina asks, stepping toward him. "You look—"

"I've just learned how incredibly close I came to death—"

"But you skirted it," Mal tells him. "Twice, actually."

He blinks as he looks between them. "The wine—"

"Yes," Regina murmurs, pulling out one of the chairs at the table behind him. "We fed you a good meal, gave you a nice orgasm and—"

"Oh my god—"

"We're usually not wrong about these things," Mal tells him. "But you managed to fool us."

"How lucky of me," he says dryly as he sinks down into the chair.

"It really was," Mal tells him, grinning coyly as she looks to Regina. "And that's something you and I could use a little more of."

Regina nods. "I knew there was a reason I liked him so much."

"What exactly are the two of you suggesting?"

"Teaming up," Mal tells him. "I promise, it'd be very much worth your while."

"It'd be such fun."

Robin blinks. "And why should I trust you not to poison me?"

"Because," Regina says simply. "We've no reason to, now."

It's a relief, really, not to have to poison him because there is something different about him, something that set him apart from the others. Still, she wasn't sure what it was, but she was certainly looking forward to figuring that out—of course, that was, if he let her.

Mal's hand slips over his shoulder and she rubs her hand soothingly over his back. "You know, in the morning, I'd love to hear about some of your more successful heists."

"Mm, that would be fun."

Robin blinks, looking unconvinced, but intrigued. "You expect me to stay?"

Mal sighs, pouting out her bottom lip. "You act like you've never misinterpreted something."

"I'm sure you had some misconceptions about the two of us before coming here," Regina adds. "Please stay. Let us make it up to you."

For a moment, Robin looks unconvinced and then, something in him changes, softening. "You'll toss out that arsenic-laced flour?"

"I'll do it now," Regina says, tossing the sack into the bin. "We'll start over."

"Completely over," Mal adds, her eyes shifting to the bag filled with their valuables.

A grin twists onto his lips. "That sounds like blackmail."

"It isn't."

"We swear it."

"And why should I believe you?"

"Because," Regina says simply. "If we truly wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

He blinks, and then he laughs. "I suppose that's true."

"So, you'll stay with us tonight?"

"Well, I did pay for the room," he says, grinning as he looks between them. "And I have been having a good time here." A little chuckle rises out of him and he seems to relax again. "Seems like it'd be a shame to end it, over a simple misunderstanding or two."

"My thoughts exactly," Mal coos, shifting herself into his lap. "So, if we can forgive you stealing from us, I'm sure you can forgive us for trying to poison you."

Robin's eyes focus on her lips and he nods. "That only seems fair."

"So we're all in agreement," Regina says, coming toward them. "Tomorrow we start anew."

"Well, technically," Robin murmurs, casting his eyes up to look at her. "It already is tomorrow."

"How lucky that is," Mal says, pecking his lips as she rises up from his lap and gives his hands a little tug. "Now, why don't we all go up to bed."

"All—"

Regina smirks and nods as her arm stretches around Mal's waist, and her cheek rests on her arm. "Of course, I'm all wound up now."

Robin smiles as he looks between them, laughing as they each take him by the hand and pull him toward the back stairs that will lead them to their bedroom—and as she thinks about all of the different things they can all do to each other to relax, she can't help but think something brilliant is about to happen.