He chose her.
Her nights alone were sleepless, corrupted by waking dreams of Daniel, dying. His lifeless body fell limp in her hands with her mother's talon-like fist held taut above them, taunting her. The face of Rumpelstiltskin laughed at her, whilst his hand caressed her cheek, contradicting every thought and fear. Her mind was taking a nose-dive down a dark well, Robin's eyes haunted her like pale-grey ghosts as she listened to the howling winds beyond her panelled windows.
Her heart thudded in her chest.
But he chose her.
"We shouldn't do this," her voice whispered, breathless with the exertion of wrenching his shirt from his shoulders - damn the buttons, curse the stitching. But her heart ached for more skin, more touching, more sweat.
Alone, her bedroom was silent and blue in the moonlight with cold shadows on the walls; trees and demons come to smite her misdeeds. With him, her vault was warmth and musk and the heady scent of candle wax and essential oils.
If she doused the burner with a touch of her perfume, did that really make her any more evil than they already believed her to be?
"Do you really want me to stop?" He breathed back, hot, damp lips pressed into the curve of her neck, driving her senses wild, setting her skin on fire.
"I didn't say that," She chuckled, giggling as he pressed his poor excuse for nails - he really needed to stop biting them - into the soft flesh at her thighs. Her skirt was pulled all the way up to her waist, freeing her legs and her soft silk blouse had fallen to her elbows, exposing the delicate black lace of her corseted slip.
Robin took a moment, holding her above him with a look of wonderment in his eyes.
"Would she wear this for you?" Regina questioned, arching her back just slightly, with that elusive touch of insecurity in the way she sucked in her lower lip, trying to look coy in order to cover her twinge of hurt.
"No," Robin gasped, running his fingers along the strap that criss-crossed over her bust. "Regina," He turned his eyes up to hers. "Darling, we don't…"
"I know," She sighed. Touching her fingertips to his lips gently. "But you will."
"No, Regina, I…" She cut him off, she knew he would argue. He had chosen her, yes, but he still lived under the same roof - tent - as his wife. He still sat by her side at the fire as they ate their meals, he still walked with her as they held their son's hands.
It was a dream to think he'd never touch her again.
Regina refused to allow him to make promises he wouldn't be able to keep.
She may not be able to keep him, but there was just enough Evil Queen left in her to ensure she got her share.
Pulling herself impossibly closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, she silenced his protests with fervent kisses; digging her teeth in, leaving her mark. She was straddling his lap, having shoved him down onto a pile of plush, downy blankets and cushions the moment he'd set foot in her vault.
It had become theirs. The small honeycomb of rooms beneath her father's mausoleum - one would call it morbid to think of it purely as such, but in viewing the rooms beneath the graveyard as Regina did, the stone walls and alcoves were a safe haven. The remnants of her magic and the things of her past she still loved, resided in those rooms beneath the ground, never to see the light of day. What would be a more fitting place to share with the man she couldn't help but love.
"Stay with me this time," She breathed, raking her nails down his chest as she pushed him back down into the blankets, leaving deep, flaming red gashes in the toned flesh of his chest and stomach. Robin growled, knowing that would leave a mark. He grabbed her by the waist, roughly, pulling her down to him to capture her lips in a rough, bruising kiss that was languid and messy and delicious.
He tasted of whiskey and she tasted of cinnamon and red wine.
"You know I would." He groaned as Regina rocked against him.
"But," She hissed, rolling her eyes as she dipped her hand between them, fisting him through his pants and making him squirm. "There's always a but."