inspired by imagine_OQ on Twitter. They have the cutest prompts!
Imagine Regina going out and not noticing she has a very noticeable hickey on her neck.
It starts off slow, unhurriedly, a gentle thrust against her that rouses her tired bones to respond, to ache, for more of the way he fills her.
Usually it's her who wakes up early, has to fight for several moments just to earn a pouty response from him, but this morning it had been him who had found something gorgeous in the way the morning light struck the tender curves of her body beneath the white sheets, had passed calloused hands over the exposed flesh of a queen he never could have imagined to touch – to have – and pressed tender kisses at her collarbone until she roused from whatever dream she had been having to this one.
A groggy smile through heavy lids is all he gets as a response when he slides home tenderly, lips just a breath, a whisper as he moves lazily within her, awakens every crevice of her to his loving touch. It's a beautiful way to wake up – the best if she's being honest – and she winds a heavy arm to grasp and dig against his shoulders, leaves little crescent moons as a reminder for later.
He's always been very careful about where he marks her, knows that she has always been one to show more than she needs to – now even more so to tease him, little minx – but it's difficult to think of anything but loving her, showing her, and she's not sure why she doesn't realize how hard he's sucked against her neck until it's too late.
David looks a little uncomfortable at their table when he catches sight of her, that usually annoying smile of his melting into something wavery and Mary Margaret's knowing smirk has Regina in slight disarray when she takes her seat just in front of them at the booth, awaits for Henry to return with Emma.
"What?" Is all the former queen can manage because if she has to look at that smug smirk on Snow's face any longer she might have reason to revert to her old ways just this once.
"Nothing." Snow's eyes smile behind the cup of coffee she's brought to her lips, pauses a moment dramatically before adding, "I would have gone with a scarf this morning, that's all."
For a moment she's unsure of what she would need a scarf for – the weather hasn't been too bad, is reaching that enjoyable temperature – but it's David's uncomfortable gaze that drops to her neck that has her hand flying to her neck, curling around the spot she can't see.
No.
Without much of a warning she stands, hand still cupped around her neck as she nearly flies to the restroom, slams the door rather harder than she meant to but then again she doesn't exactly care.
It's a nasty bruise, positioned right at her collarbone and she remembers now exactly when she got it, this morning in her blissful haze with him between her legs and knows how she missed it during dressing, when said bliss made her late (again) for breakfast with her family.
Gods, he's gonna pay for this. She can already see that smug look on his face, dimples and all as she runs the swelling mark, catches her traitorous smile in the mirror at the thought of it.
With a sigh, she conjures a scarf – she could so easily get rid of it but she needs proof for later on, and not at all because she likes the tender reminder of his lips on her skin and his thrust against her hips – and ties it securely around her neck, covers up the scandalous love bite before she makes her way out to her son and their ever growing family.
And if the next morning Regina leaves a secret mark on Robin that has Will and Killian tossing banter at him, well, it's fair play.