This was inspired by a Regal Believer post I saw on tumblr, but note that this is all Believer Queen. It's not so much a story as it is me plotting out a story while chatting with secretsillnevertell this summer. I'm not going to be making it into a true fanfic, so I figured I'd post what I had.
Edited for grammar and not much else.
He wakes up screaming and Regina runs to his room, petting his head and hugging him against her chest, and whispering, "It's okay, it's okay, I'm here, I'm okay," and he clings to her. She lays down with him, squishing into his twin size bed with him. They fall asleep together.
She wakes up to him laying half on top of her, still holding her tight, but now he's nuzzled into her breast, and her nipples are a little too perky for her preference, and he's... wow he's becoming a man and she really didn't need to realize that with his hips against her thigh. And he wakes up slowly but doesn't let her go, and she decides to ignore it, and rubs his back, and he flexes against her, just a slight press and release of his hips.
"Henry, sweetheart, you need to get up."
And he grumbles and holds tighter and presses his face harder into her. "No, don't wanna let go," and his chin brushes her nipple as his speaks.
"Henry (her voice is choked) you need to get up."
And he wakes up enough to realize, but... he can feel how hard her nipple is, and just shifts, just enough.
He can't taste her skin, her nightgown is in the way, but she gasps and jerks when he closes his mouth around her nipple. "Henry" she says again, and she doesn't know what to do.
"Don't leave me, Mom," he says, because he still has the image of her stepping in front of a sword for him. And she just... can't push him away.
"Okay," she whispers, runs her fingers through his hair.
She's conflicted, but she lets him touch her, lets him mouth at her nipples and press his hard-on against her thigh. Lets him clamor on top of her and push her nightgown up, press against her, just her panties and his pajama pants between them. She doesn't know how she feels about it, but she can't push him away, not when he's hurting, not when he needs her.
So she kisses him, just lightly, just enough to encourage. Enough to show him that she wants his touch. Because she realizes she does, realizes she's getting wet for him, and even though it makes her stomach twist with nerves and self-loathing, she can't deny it.
So when he pushes harder against her, she lift her hips into him. When he pushes her nightgown up above her breasts, she pulls it off entirely. "Need to be closer," Henry says with his face between her breasts, and she twists her hand, and when the purple smoke clears, he's pressed against her skin to skin, and it's almost an accident when he slips inside her.
They both gasp. They both move against each other, holding each other tightly. He comes first, of course he does, it's so new to him. But he doesn't soften, doesn't slip out of her. He keeps going, and the thought that her son just came inside her, that her son is fucking her to his second orgasm, that's what makes her come. And her climax triggers his.
They relax into each other, into the bed, holding each other tight. Henry trembles, whispers, "I saw you die," and she kisses the top of his head, reassures him that she's right here, she won't leave him. They're both safe. They saved each other.