My lovely friend SimplyMaterial tweeted me a prompt, and well, I couldn't resist. Thanks lovely for the prompt. Hope I don't disappoint. (If you haven't checked out her OQ videos on youtube, you're wrong).

This shall fill in for what we all know would happen next episode where OQ are alone, Regina is wearing red and there is whisky on the table for Robin.

Rated M for Mature, we all know the drill. Read at your own risk.


It's started innocently enough.

She is tensed, that much is clear as she looms over the table, Emma's dream catcher in hand, looking at it like it holds the answers to the multitude of problems that they have and the key to freeing Emma from the darkness. He stands beside her, watching her in concern and in awe as she talks about Emma and the significance of the dream catcher, of Tallahassee, of Bae, and of dashed hopes and unfulfilled dreams, of the pirate and of renewed lives and second chances. She talks of the darkness, snuffing it out once and for all, and of how she wants Emma back and for all of this to be over.

But he can't say he'd been paying very close attention as he takes a sip of his whisky (and what a wonderful throwback to the time he had her alone for the first time and the tension had run high between the two of them that he'd practically felt the electricity running through him and jolting him), and he watches her, watches her beautiful face and expressive eyes, watches for every upturn and downturn of her lovely lips—zoning in on that lip scar that touches those very plump, very red lips, and his mind goes way south, and no he shouldn't think of this now.

"You'll find a way, Regina," he assures her, and she turns her head at him, looking at him with so much insecurity that he longs to haul her into his arms and kiss all of that away. He takes her hand in his and brings it over to his lips to place a ghost of a kiss against her knuckles, bringing it down once more and holding it tightly. "You'll find a way and we'll help you. You aren't alone in this, my love."

Her gaze doesn't leave his face, and he can see it, can see the gratitude that she feels for steadfast support, for his belief in her when she doesn't believe in herself. He feels it, feels her love for him in spades, and it only makes him love her more (he already loves her with his whole soul, more than his whole life and it's a wonder how he can love her more, but love her more he does, love her unerringly and endlessly), makes him want to make certain that she knows just that.

"I just want all of this to be over," Regina admits as her shoulders sag a little. She is still stressed and frustrated, he can see that, can read it quite well with the way her eyes flicker frantically over the expanse of this house, can see it in the way her eyebrows crease, he knows her well, knows the little things that make her Regina, and this does not escape his notice, and he has come to cherish it even more now after everything that's happened. "I want things to be normal," she pauses here, and he raises an eyebrow at her, grins at her teasingly as she rolls her eyes and continues, "As normal as it could get anyway. I want more family time with you and our sons."

His heart flutters at her words, and he knows that she could be very well meaning to very separate entities when talking of their sons—his and hers and not theirs—but the idea that she mentions them collectively like they are indeed their sons, that they are a family, well, it does things to him that he can't explain.

"And you'll find a way," he guarantees to her once more, because he does believe in that, believes that if there is anyone who could save this town it is her, that with the support group she has now—their own family, the Charmings, the dwarves, the people in the town, and begrudgingly the pirate—she can do this. "I believe in you."

It's the four words that does it, he thinks, that has her eyes softening, has her reaching over to him, leaning towards him, has her pressing her lips with his. He kisses her back, kisses her with the same passion and ardour that he knows she feels, that is present in her kisses and her gentle touches. He adores her, adores her so, and he needs her to know that as he pulls her in his arms and presses her supple body against the hard planes of his own, her curves fitting, molding perfectly into the contours and crevice of his own.

It isn't just like puzzles fitting in together, it's like finding his home…in her.

He continues kissing her, as much and for as long as she allows (they haven't had much alone time lately, her stress levels being so high that she almost never sleeps until he has to all but drag her out of her library or her vault, and the other times that she hasn't her nose buried in a book to find anything that might help, she's doing her mayoral duties or finding more things about the people who have very recently found themselves in Storybrooke—that leaves very little time for frolicking, really), and he pulls her closer, pulls her until even he can't figure out where she starts and where he ends. He swipes his tongue on her bottom lip, bites it softly before sucking her upper lip lightly. He hears her moan, soft, almost like mewling, and he relishes in it, his arousal beginning to make itself known. She opens her mouth and grants him entrance when he teases the corners of her lips with his tongue and he slides in quickly. His tongue finds hers and he sucks it in his mouth before he smoothes it over with his own. He tries to memorize her taste, revel in it as much as he can, and she tastes good, so good, like apple and cinnamon and mint and something sweet that is so uniquely hers that has him addicted.

If Robin of Locksley is a junkie, then his own personal brand of heroine is one Regina Mills.

He shifts his hip slightly, lets his desire for her known, but he doesn't push, doesn't pressure her into it…he wants her, god he wants her so much it literally hurts, but he's not about to take her on the table unless she asks him to. She lets out another moan that has him growling deeply, has him pushing her red blazer off of her shoulder, letting it slither down the floor with a soft whooshing sound (the color has him thinking very delicious, dirty things, sending him right to the time he first made love with her), it has him locking her in a tight embrace. He thinks he can drown in her, in everything Regina Mills, and he is more than just a little disappointed when she pulls away from him, with a hand placed on his chest.

"Robin, no, we can't," she says, almost pleadingly, even when her eyes are a deep shade of brown, obviously dilated with arousal. "Not right now." She turns around from his arms and leans against the table, taking the dream catcher in her hands once more.

He looks at her for a moment, thinks maybe he shouldn't, but her hands are trembling, her whole body leaning in on the table for support, her knees obviously weak, and he knows, he knows that she wants this too. He places himself behind her and traps her in an embrace, one hand on the table as he leans over it to shore himself up, and the other finding her slim waist, dragging down to her curved hips. His lips find her nape and he has to push some stray hair away from her skin with his nose, his warm breath making her shiver and for goose bumps to rise up in her silky skin.

"I just want to help you loosen up, my darling," he whispers huskily against her fragrant skin before he bites down and then traces the bite marks down with his tongue. She even tastes sweet. "You look so tensed."

"Robin," she says in warning, her voice stern.

But he doesn't let up in his assault, his lips finding her neck and his teeth and tongue biting and soothing down her skin, his hands caress her everywhere they can reach, and his arousal is poking her on her leg. She moans, and he's sure that she's just closed her eyes and exhaled shakily.

He reaches up to her torso and undoes her belt, throwing it to the floor carelessly, he fumbles with her jumpsuit (or that's what she's told him it is when he's asked her earlier today, bewildered by the concept of it being one piece but pants), and eases it off her shoulder. He pats on her bottom lightly to make her step away from the piece of clothing when it falls down her body and pools at her feet.

"Robin," she utters, still sounding like she's going to protest. He doesn't give her time to do so, lifts her up in his arms and on the table, making her face him and attacks her lips in a heated kiss. She seems to forget her protest now as her hands reach to fumble with his belt, grinning victoriously when she undoes it and his pants, leaving it pooling at his feet. She pushes his jacket off his shoulder and lets him kiss her and kiss her and kiss her until they are both dizzy with pleasure.

His hand crawl down to where she is wet and throbbing, while the other reaches up to cup her lace clad breasts, palming it and thumbing its rosy peak. She lets out a moan, he knows how it pleases her when he stimulates both nerve-endings, and he grins against her mouth.

"Cocky," she accuses when she pulls away to grasp for breath.

"Let me show you how much," he teases as he takes her hand in his and leads her to where he is standing proud and erect, ready to nail her against this table until she is boneless in his arms, thoroughly pleasured.

She chuckles, a deep, velvety one that has his cock jerking, his desire for her growing.

"Good god, you're a temptress," he mutters as he trails his lips down to the column of her neck down to her breasts. He wastes no time, pushing the lace away from her covered treasures and sucking on her pebbled peaks. He smiles against her flesh as she throws her head back when his thumb flick against her clit and his fingers push inside her.

"More, Robin," she pleads, and he does as she asks, lifting his head to drop a kiss on her lips before shifting her just so to give him room. He pulls the scrap of lace that covers her sex down her shapely legs and pushes his fingers again, curling it at just the right angle to hit her g-spot. It has her babbling, mewling and thrashing in his arms, and he watches her intently, watches every change in her expression as he pleasures her. "Robin, oh god," she mutters as her muscles contract around him and he knows, he knows she's at the brink of pleasure. He smirks before ducking his head down and pulling her rosy peaks into his mouth, his thumb flickering once more to her bundle of nerves and his fingers pushing in and out of her. She lets out a loud, ah, oh god, and then she's coming, and coming, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

He pulls away, pulls his fingers out, and holds her as she comes down from her high.

"That was…" she trails off as he leans down to kiss her and push the hair away from her face, "relaxing."

"Glad to be of service, my love," he says.

"But I want more," she tells him, her hand making her intentions clear as it finds his now throbbing cock and giving stroking it once, twice, making him shiver. "Robin."

He nods, knows that this is not the time to tease anymore, and knowing he can't possibly have the strength to tease anymore, and so he pulls her close, positions them just right as he slides into her. It's a feeling he can never describe, to be inside her, to be feeling just this right even the world seems to go wrong around them. This is a feeling he's never experienced before, not even with his wife, and it's a feeling he knows he will always cherish.

He drops his forehead against hers and closes his eyes as he thrusts away inside her, his speed varying from slow to fast, until he's plunging in and out of her deep and fast and hard, and she's thrashing in his arms, her moans and groans getting louder by the second. He himself is no better as he growls at the feeling of her around him, her snug heat enveloping him. It doesn't take long before they are both coming, together, like they always are, always seems to be, always will be. They are in-sync, one, soul mates.

"I love you," he mutters as he empties himself inside her.

She licks her lips and nods, still unable to say the words yet, but he understands, has even heard her whispering it to him when she thinks he's been sleeping and he doesn't hold it against her, they have a forever and a lifetime together and he can wait a little longer until she can say it freely.

He gives her a kiss and lifts her off of the table, crouching down to gather their discarded pieces clothing and handing hers to her. They dress in silence and for a moment, he imagines that this is just another day, and there is not a darkness to be snuffed, and they just gave into their desire and had sex on their kitchen table. It almost is like that, and he grins, turning to her and pulling her close as she fixes her belt, placing his chin against her shoulder and dropping a kiss to her neck.

"You realize that we just had sex on the dining table right?" he teases, pleased when he sees her face flush, making him chuckle.

She turns around and makes a face at him. "It was great stress reliever," she quips, making him laugh harder as he pulls her closer and kisses her forehead.

He loves her so much, his heart threatens to burst at the seams with love for her.

"And now that I'm all relaxed and stress free," she says pulling away and grasping his hand only to lead him out the door, "We'd better work on this darkness thing."

He chuckles, pauses when they are right outside the door and kisses her once more, just because he can, just because she is his and he is hers and they are together. He presses their forehead together and gives her a wide smile, soft and encouraging. Trusting.

"I believe in you," he whispers, because he does. He really, really does.

Fin


Thank you again SimplyMaterial for the prompt. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on tonight's installment of OQ porn haha :D

If you'd like for me to fill out a prompt for you, tweet me ( RegalCountess), DM me here or on my tumblr (breakingunbreaking) or leave it on the comments, I'll try my best!