This oneshot is inspired in The National's song This Is The Last Time. I wrote it specially for the girl.
If you guys don't like Morrilla, you can read it as Swan Queen and pretend that Regina is married to Robin. I didn't use any names.
I hope you like it.
When you look at her, you wish everybody could see what's so great about her. You wish they could see the beauty that you see, that she only allows you to see.
You look at her and you feel loved, because for you, only you, she lets it show in her eyes. But you wish she didn't love you like that. Wish she didn't love you at all. Because when she looks at you like that, you wish you didn't have a husband and you didn't have a house and you didn't have a marriage to come back to. You wish you could love her the way she deserves. The way she loves you.
But it's not your fault, you know? It's not your fault because she was the one that started it all. She was the one that avoided you for weeks and she was the one that kissed you when you confronted her. She was the one that called you crying in your honeymoon. You can only blame her for not thinking before jumping. You can only blame her for being so stubborn, for being so insistent. For being so beautiful.
The truth is that it hurts. It hurts to see her sleeping so peacefully, so exposed to you. It hurts because you know you have to leave and you know how much it hurts her. You know how much it hurts you. When you look at her and feel this sting in your heart, you know that this is really the last time. It has to be. If you don't put an end to everything she never will. You have to finish it all. This has to be the last time.
But it's not.
You say you won't cry about it, but you do. You cry and cry and when you feel like you won't cry anymore, you think that she's probably awake now, when you think that she looked for you when she woke up, you cry harder. When you think about your loving husband and your perfect family, you cry harder.
You cry yourself to sleep because you know yourself, you know that if you stay up you'll call her. You'll hurt her more. You'll love her more.
When you go to work the next day, you pray and you wish that she understood you. You wish that she knows that that's how everything's supposed to be. But you don't see her. She's not there and you hate yourself for knowing that it's probably your fault.
When she calls you its almost 2am, because somehow, she knows you're awake too. She calls you and when you hear her voice asking, begging, you just take your keys and go. And when she opens the door, you forget all the pain. You forget all the responsibilities. You forget how to breathe because she's so beautiful. She's so in love with you that you can almost see that behind the hurt in her eyes. She slams you against the door and you think she's gonna punch you the face. You think she's gonna hurt you because you deserve to suffer like she does. She slams you against the door and you wait for the pain but you feel her lips on yours and it hurts more than anything. You kiss her back. It hurts even more.
This have to be the last time.
When you reach her room, you know exactly in what door is her room, you kiss her wet lips and touch her face. Her oh so beautiful face that haunts your dreams and nightmares. She's urgent this time. She takes your clothes off and she lays you in her bathed-scented sheets, she lays you in there and she pins you against the mattress. She holds your hands and her soft lips touche you where you want her most. Where she claimed hers since the first time. She kisses you there and licks you there and when she sucks you there, you use the last sanity you have to wonder if someday, someone else could make you feel this way. You conclude that no one will.
She sucks and kisses and laps and fingers and do it all at the same time, and you're vocal. You moan and you cries and you begs and you tremble and you do it all at the same time.
When you climaxes, she's holding your hand and kissing your neck softly. She knows she can't mark you, she knows she can't leave evidence. But this time, this last time, you wouldn't care if she did. She holds you and comforts you and you want to tell her you love her more than anything, but it wouldn't change anything. So you do what you do best. You don't say anything at all.
You kiss her in her wet lips, in her loving face, in her perfect chin, in her firm breasts. Your hands dare to explore for the last time. You touch her back and you touch her thighs. You touch her where she's wet and you ask her to open her eyes, because you want to see her when you claim her for the last time.
She opens her legs to give you more room to move, you know what she wants. You look her in the eyes and know she wants you to use your mouth, you know she wants you to stay with her forever. But you can't give the forever she wants, so you give her at least one of those things. You hold her open and you touch her with your mouth and fingers, you use your 5 senses to memorize this moment in your mind forever.
You use your hands to touch her insides, to feel the warmth around your fingers. You use your mouth to taste her, to register the exactly texture of her wet folds against your tongue. You use your ears to hear her moans, her pleadings, her raspy voice saying your name. You use your nose to rub her clit, to smell the effect you have on her. And you use your eyes to never, not even for a single second break the eye contact. You have to watch her when she reaches the edge, and in your fingers you can feel that she's almost there. She's almost there. Almost. You feel in your mouth now.
She's trembling and that's your cue to go there and hold her. And kiss her. And give her love, even if it's for the last time. You kiss her lips and you kiss her cheek. You wait her to open her eyes and when she does, you're confused. You can't see the love that you usually do when you makes her come. You can't see the hurt that comes after a few seconds. You can't see anything. She just stares at you and when you kiss her lips again, she doesn't close her eyes. You know something is wrong.
She doesn't even look at you when you put your clothes on and leave the bedroom. She doesn't beg you to stay a few more minutes like she always does. You leave and you drive fast, you go home and check on your husband and see that he didn't move a single inch since you left. You take a bath and you wash her from your body and wish that you could do the same to your mind.
The next day you're locked in one of the empty rooms of your husband's house. It's 1am when you're on your fifth glass of wine and you're still crying. You're seeing double and you can't remember how many times you said that that time was going to be the last. The love you feel for her is so strong, so pure, you don't understand how it can feel so wrong. You want to call her and you want to beg to please, please let me come over. You want to kiss her and make love to her for the last time. You want to say goodbye and you want to do so many things that you never did before. To your surprise, your phone rings, and when you see her name, you know you're too drunk to drive. You press the green button and you try to remember that taxi number you used once. You know she's going to ask you to come over and you're happy, you're so much happier than you've ever been.
When her voice speaks on the line, it's different of everything she ever said to you. You can't tell what breaks first: you or the glass you're holding, but when she speaks to you on other side of the line, you know that you were right. Her voice is clear,
"That was the last time."
And you know she means it.