A/N: Hi! Thank you all for the lovely reviews and favorites on my stuff. It means a lot when you guys give me feedback and tell me what you think.
I've had this piece on my computer for a week or so. I was going to post it Sunday, but (a) I forgot it was Easter and (b) I didn't have any time to edit and (c) I was too busy sprinting around my house after the episode. That said, I hope it's at least in character and I hope you guys like it.
That kiss was enchanting, was it not? Haha :) If you could tell me what you think, that would be much appreciated, as always. Lots of love to all of you 3
There are no labels in the new light of this after they have found together. There is no talking, only dancing whispers and laughter stolen from night's silence. There is warmth everywhere around her. It's in the sleeves of his flannel shirt with the buttons left open hugging the exposed parts of her body. It's in the shared air trapped between them as they gravitate ever closer together. It's in his tender, roaming touch that caresses her legs positioned on either side of him and her hips, her arms, her belly, her neck. It's in his beckoning smile that never fully fades and only ever broadens through the waves of hushed conversation and spontaneous, adoring, muttered remarks. It radiates from his chest, where her hands have found refuge, and travels up her skin and flows throughout their bodies. There is warmth encircling her.
Here, with him, she has found Regina. There is no "Evil Queen" in this realm they share. She has found comfort in this unexplored territory, nestled atop him, left exposed and completely revealed. He has found a place in her bed, slouched against the headboard, illustrating her skin with invisible marks of him. In the moments of silence between the soft, spilling laughter and breaths of dialogue, they find quiet harmony and breathe together. She'll let an uninhibited smile sojourn on her lips as he brings her hands to his face and becomes absorbed in the task of brushing his mouth and nose and cheeks against each finger in turn. Piece by piece, her walls will fall away and she'll tip forward without their support and find his forehead waiting for hers and his arms ready to hold her. The simplicity of it is intimidating but oh-so addictive and refreshing. The compassion without complexity is just nice.
After she straightens herself for the countless time, she gazes down at him to find him looking at her in a different way. His eyes are curious and they're attached to her face and no place else. Laughter brews in her, but she suppresses the urge to let it break from her. Instead, she asks him, grin still intact, "What?"
He raises a hand then. It ventures beyond her legs and above her abdomen to her head. His fingers run over her hair at first before dipping below her sultry brunette locks to run his touch down her cheek. With the sweeping surface of his palm, he traces her jaw and the gentle rise of her chin. His thumb curves over her naked lower lip, long since robbed of its makeup, and he tells her, "You are rather alluring, aren't you." He's so confident in the notion, it's not a question but a statement slipped into the cracks in the quiet.
Her smile turns to a smirk. Suspicion raises an eyebrow. There's a hint of irony in the monotone that disguises her vulnerability, "When I'm undressed in bed with you?"
Disagreement twists his grin. She's incredibly aware of her heartbeat humming throughout her as his hand finds a better hold on her face. His fingers sweep over her cheeks like a breeze sweeps over a vast, bare field. It's just the two of them in the midst of peaceful emptiness. It's just the gentle wind of their voices exploring this new territory. There's a crescendo in his voice that anchors her eyes to his. "No, no. Granted, you're sensual and intoxicating as it is," In a quiet twinkle of time, his touch finds the freedom to run over her skin again. "It's your smile and your laughter that's exquisite."
At this, she falters and ducks her chin, rubbing her lips together and averting her eyes to the surrounding shadows. The darkness offers no more safety than his gaze. Still, it is the darkness to which she drifts while he peers underneath her layers at the person hidden inside. Even she has almost forgotten about the woman she locked away within the blackest silhouettes of her being. Yet, he reminds her. He brings that side of her into the light and he makes her remember. He is fresh air in her lungs and her thrumming heart in her chest.
It's alarming on so many levels to have someone be so tender with her. It makes her body tense to think of how easily she reveals and allows herself to be exposed. And, indeed, it frightens her that she's so comfortable and so at ease with it all-with him. These new aspects of a relationship strike a strange note with her.
Then again, she's not accustomed to all the romantic dynamics of a relationship. She's not used to the attention Robin gives her so willingly. She's not used to someone needing her. She's not accustomed to the soft proclamations of love and adoration uttered over pillows, sheets, mouths, and skin. She's not accustomed to someone asking her to stay up with them for no other reason than to soak in each other, but she likes it. She likes it all. And that fact-such a revelation-makes her shoulders rigid and forces her jaw shut and rebuilds the walls she's stacked around her forever.
"Hey," he murmurs, interjecting himself between her and her barriers. One arm circled around her, he fastens her to him as he shifts beneath her. With his back straight against the headboard, their eyes are level. Darkness can no longer offer her anything more secure than his gaze, now riddled with concern. There is a persistent promise of devotion in the crest of his voice, "You deserve to be happy, Regina."
She tilts her head toward his. A single, solitary hand runs up his chest and tangles in the wisps of hair there. Melancholy paints her lips into bittersweet slant. "I'm sure there are many who would disagree."
His mouth falls open for a moment. She's beginning to curl into herself like the petals of a withering flower as they retreat back into the stability of itself.
"And who are they to dictate whether or not you're deserving of a happy ending?" He retorts. Restraint hides the anger brewing at the mere notion of all the unkindness she's received.
"I've done some bad things in my time, Robin," She insists.
"Haven't we all?"
Her breath hitches. "Not everyone has been as evil as me."
His hands become confident and adamant on her. She suppresses a gasp. It startles her when she thinks of how they can go from such passion to this-her body locked in his grasp with her clinging to him anywhere, everywhere. Going from sweet kisses plucked from the stillness to serious, lucid discussion is off-putting. Yet, he handles it so well. He's there with open arms and an open heart to guide her.
"You try to be worthy of happiness. You tell me you try to be worthy of Henry and of love, a relationship," he says. She tries to cut him off with a heavy breath, but he slides his hands up until he holds her face in all of his fingers and she is silenced. "I think you're worthy simply because you want to try. Most think nothing of a second chance, but you, Regina, you don't want to squander it. That alone makes you deserving, regardless of what's happened before."
She doesn't even muster a smile as her mind returns to the dark deeds simpering at her from her sinister history. "Unless what I've done is unforgivable," she protests to her hands, still buried in the expanse of his chest.
"It may have shaped you, but it's not who you are. You are not your past."
Silence claims her mind and her mouth. When his touch leaves her face, her eyes fall shut. There is solace in their shared solitude. She curves into him, guided by his gentle hands roaming her back beneath his shirt. Her forehead falls against his and she lets her eyes close for a moment so she can listen to the sound of their synchronized breathing. Her hands travel over his torso so she can feel as it rises and falls with the rhythm of her pounding heart. Heat fills her as puffs of heated air kiss her face. The way he's holding her as she's wrapped around him is a fresh comfort.
A while ago, she figured out that it was easy to fall once she let herself. Letting herself fall into him and allowing him to catch her was the hard part. To trust him to catch her was harder still, true love or not. Now, she was only just beginning to uncover the greatest rewards in this vulnerability.
He angles his head in an invitation, which she instantly accepts, moving so their mouths can touch. She breathes him in through her nose as it starts out slow and closed while the warmth spreads. Underneath the shirt she wears, he pulls her closer still until her knees find the soft surface of the headboard. She drags her lips over his, opening the embrace. Their noses rub together as his head shifts, guiding her in the ardent dance between their mouths. The light feeling in her gut makes her feel like she's falling with only his lips to keep her from crashing into the ground.
Unfortunately, she can't fall together and she must crash back to Earth eventually. The fire between them explodes and the tempo of the kiss quickens in the final moments as her chest begins to constrict and vertigo starts to gnaw at her head. His teeth graze against her as she pulls apart for air.
Her eyes remain closed and she pictures herself laying across his chest. For now, she remains as she is because it feels safer to be on top as opposed to anywhere else. But, oh, she imagines how comfortable it would be to retreat into him and relax with her head against him. As she straddles him then, with his lips murmuring and pecking at her neck, she lets her mind wander to the future and to endless nights of this. They would stay up, locked in whispered conversation, hands tangled together on his abdomen. Eventually, she could learn to find the greatest security in him. Moonlight would shine through open windows, illuminating their bodies strewn across the mused sheets and scattered piles of pillows. There wouldn't be a shred of fabric to separate them as they lay together. His free hand would roam her body freely, and she would allow him. Maybe she'd even ask him to do so. They would lay like that until the stars began to flicker with fatigue. The moon would dim and take their consciousness with its fleeting light. A chill would settle in the room and he'd pull a blanket over them as she began to lose herself in his heartbeat. She'd find respite in listening to his breathing. He'd wash her head of reality and take her back to the Enchanted Forest and it could be just them and their family protected by the walls of her massive castle.
Their family. The idea makes her eyes snap open. Before she gets lost in his mouth against her neck and the sweet utterances that are meant for her ears alone, she retreats back. In an unspoken query, his fingers slide around her hips and he leaves his face open, openly projecting his perplexity at her.
"What do you think of our future?" She inquires. It's a million questions in one.
"Well," he starts, casting an upward glance into oblivion. There's thousands of answers he could give, hundreds of paths he could take. Here, he could abandon her and leave her to the jaws of a gaping, starving void. Here, he could envelop her and guide her toward a new light. She's offering him a thousand opportunities, and he seems to find the right one always. "From this point on, I don't see much of a future without you." A smile flashes across her lips. He's connects their gazes and continues, "I don't believe we'll encounter much trouble incorporating you into Roland's life. He's rather fond of you." He shoots her a flirtatious smirk. He squeezes her waist in a silent, personal admittance.
Happiness sojourns on her face. She's positive she'd be flustered if she saw herself staring at him in that moment. "And a small family would suit you?" She asks in recovery of her display of blatant compassion. The word 'family' is foreign on her tongue, but not unwelcome. She dips it into the ambience, allowing the notion to simmer between them as it brings enlightenment to his stare. Her fingers search for his as she continues, "I've accepted the fact that Henry won't be spending all his time here anymore-"
"You're still his mother. He'll come to see you." Robin insists, pulling one hand away from her back and into her grasp. Her fingertips brush over his like a musician running their fingers over a harp. It's a soft, tender distraction to take away from the pain of her son's absence.
"I do hope so. Still," Her head ducks down. The question is brewing. She can't believe she wants to ask it. She's astounded she hasn't already. The thought has bounced around in her head long enough, even before she found Robin. It's terror and solace all at once. She wants to run from it and sprint to it, but she's stuck in the middle and she needs his encouraging push. For the longest time, she's been so sure without any regrets, but this uncertainty she cannot conquer and it kills her. Saying the words out loud would lift her burden, but it would be too easy. She's always been afraid of the after, but she now realizes that she's mortified of what will happen if she doesn't ask. "Do you think that we, I mean, do you ever think of perhaps having a child of our own?"
Without a beat, he shoots back at her, "Yes, of course." He brings their foreheads together and, even with her eyes closed yet again, she can feel him beaming at her. Inside, she's harboring the joy and wondrous euphoria that he eagerly gives her. She floats on this high with him, content with listening to him talk for a while, "I'm eager to build a family with you in any realm. I want us to take our time with this. I want to know you better. I do want to know all of you, Regina. You're absolutely remarkable. I want you to know Roland and I want the both of you to be completely comfortable. I imagine that we'll decide where to live together one day. I'm not sure whether we'll ever return to the Enchanted Forest. But I'm not worried. You and Roland and I-we all adapt easily."
He brushes the curtain of her hair back and she looks at him then. It's frightening to her how they can go from such passion to this, but everything within her leaps at it in spite of herself.
"Yes, we'll settle down together, the three of us. You and I will watch Roland and Henry grow into fine, young men. And we'll have our own child if we're so lucky. However," he goes on. The seriousness that deepens the lines tracing his face makes her falter. "I do hope we've been married by that time, because I hope to be by your side regardless of wicked witches and whatever else the future brings. If you'll let me, of course."
She should say something. She wants to say something, but the words are a jumble in her mouth and her lips are too busy smiling to let any sort of response slip through and shatter the vivid picture he's handed her. In his image, in their near future, it's the quick patter of a baby boy's feet dashing around this house, the place where she raised Henry and created a tomorrow with Robin. They tuck Roland in each night. Before they leave him to his dreams, she sweeps his curls away from his face so she can dip down and brush a kiss against his perfect, porcelain forehead. Only then, she stands and returns with Robin to their shared bed. She's not quite sure of how she feels about calling him a "husband", but she reminds herself that it's a name reserved for another time when she's grown to really love him. Admittedly, she's infatuated and she could certainly love him. The feeling already blossoms in the core of her being. She wonders if it'll bloom suddenly, one night when he's got his arms around her and she's wavering in and out of consciousness, or if it will be a gradual revelation like with her first love, with Daniel.
She's avoided thinking of Daniel since the start of her relationship with Robin; she's avoided the doubt that could lurk beneath the memories of him. But she thinks of him now and she's confident, although with a bittersweet pang. He wanted her to be happy. If not with him, then with someone who loved her and wanted the same thing as he did. And she had found someone, despite her initial stubbornness. Daniel would be proud.
She returns to the present, still pressed against Robin who's been grinning at her all the while, assured by her contentment. He takes her face in his hands and connects their lips once more. The way they mold together like two halves of a whole could both start and end her world. Connected, she doubts that even Snow and Charming fit together so perfectly. When she and Robin embrace, the label "soulmate" is a misnomer because not even fate could dictate how her mouth fits exactly against his. They don't slip and slide apart and back together again for now; they capture time between their lips and stop it with their hands still on hot skin.
As far as she's concerned, tonight is a prolonged moment of bliss, a bubble hiding beneath the waves only to shatter when daylight hits. Though their isolation will crumble, they will remain and she finds enough comfort in that guarantee that she pries herself away to shoot him a sly grin. "I think it's time we go again."
"I think you're right." He robs her of the opportunity to laugh or shoot off a final, witty remark as he steals the smirk from her lips. She sheds his shirt and allows them to turn and fall into breathless euphoria once more.
Any critique? Thanks so much for reading. :)