Disclaimer: I own nothing. I just played with them.
Note: I had no beta, keep that in mind, ;)
His hips keep bucking into her, back and forth, his rhythm steady, almost completely out and then back in. Her legs are wrapped around his waist and he's supporting himself on his forearms, his hands laced in her hair, lips attached to hers. He's on top of her, and she feels engulfed and completely overcome by his entire being. He's strong, heavy but he's careful not to crush her. He's a solid presence and he doesn't stop. He keeps thrusting, his breath is heavy and she is panting. The fire is crackling beside them, food and wine long forgotten, it's the desire and that connection that matters. They both gave in to it.
She tears her lips from his to gasp for air, turns her head away as she comes, her toes curl and her legs tighten their hold around him, but he doesn't stop. Her body stiffens, her back arches off the blanket on the floor beneath them, and her chest presses against his as much as it is possible.
It occurs to her that he is the first man who enjoys this privilege of her absolute consent and surrender, or her relinquishing control that was always carefully in place in self protection. The first man she doesn't bed while she's the one calling the shots, the first man who doesn't fear or wish to stake a claim on her bound by marriage vows. She's opened her heart and trust and now she's giving him her body, too, and it's overwhelming because this is a different kind of physicality, and it's just a beginning.
A leap of faith. Scary, unknown territory for her but powerful and when she comes down from her high, he continues moving, kisses her neck and collar bone, and she cannot stop thinking about this. Her body is sensitive, she will be feeling sore later, but she just stares at the base of his neck and his veins popping a little, and she watches his body move on top of hers, and into hers. She bites her bottom lip and moans because it's a continued sensual overload even after she's come. He keeps moving and moving, shifts a little once he feels her body relax after her climax and then he finds his own release. It makes her smile, this is something they are in together. She's not alone, it's not one sided, and it's new.
He stays in position, brushes the hair from her face and kisses her gently afterwards. She's not new to sex but she's new to this.
By the end of the evening, it's all gone and feels like she has just awoken from the sweetest dream she ever had to the harsh reality. It was too good to be true. This and everything else she has just begun sharing with her soul mate is swept away by the past coming back - literally. It's all torn from her grasp and she doesn't know what she's done wrong this time. She wanted this and she tried.
She feels like a fool. For believing, even for a second, that it was real. You foolish girl, her mother's voice rings in her ears and she can't bear to look at Emma Swan or the happy scene in front of her, of Robin kissing and hugging the love of his life. The woman he would have walked through hell for.
It was a beginning and it now comes to an end. Her legs wouldn't take her away fast enough, the air is gone from her lungs and she desperately needs to breathe, so by the time Emma looks up at her again, shock and remorse on her face, Regina is gone. Only the trail of quickly disappearing purple smoke is what gives a clue that she was there just moments ago.
It's hours later and Regina is emptying her stomach in her bathroom. The food and the wine and everything else she has had earlier are finding their way out of her body. It's not her heart that hurts, it's not her newly returned resilient blasted thing of hers that is aching. It's protecting itself, as it always has, and it's deflecting. So it's her stomach bearing the impact, her nerves and her limbs are feeling it. There's a knot and it's a sharp piercing pain, and she cannot even think or look at food so tight are her insides.
She washes her mouth and then tries to wipe away the horrid taste, and when her reflection in the mirror damn near scares her, she washes off her make up, too. She's shaking now, partly because of vomiting and partly because of anger. This is familiar, she knows this and doesn't want it. She is angry and frustrated and some years ago Emma Swan may have been fried on the spot, but not now. And that's the worst. It's herself Regina feels disgusted and angry with. She should have known. She's been burned so many times and still, she keeps making the same mistake. I never learn from my mistakes, her own words ring in her ear.
She trusted Rumple when he offered to teach her. She trusted Snow White to keep her secret and then to return her mother's heart and be a happy family. She trusted her mother despite her body bearing her scars, the reminders of the mother's cruelty. She trusted Emma. She trusted Robin. And she didn't trust her mind screaming not to open up. That she developed feelings wasn't new. It's the faith, the belief that she has never allowed before, that was what made the difference with Robin. And that hurts the most.
Anger without blame is the hardest and as much as she wants to blame Emma or Robin or the not-so-dead wife, or just about anyone, the person she is now knows it's no use. Emma is a fool but it's Emma. The good person that she is, the same person who has given her chances time and time again, merely saved a life. And Robin... Robin reacted the same way she did when Daniel was brought back for that brief time just last year.
She feels sick to her stomach, to her core, because she believed this to be a true second chance, and she gave it her body and soul. She can feel the soreness in her thighs from the sex earlier, it was a good and exciting reminder throughout the day and now it makes her sick. She's completely opened up and now she's left with a gaping wound.
She vows that this was the last time.
People immediately go quiet in the Diner when she steps in. It's not the first time this happens, she's had a life time to get used to it. The town has renewed interest, however, because of her ill fated romance with Robin Hood which came to a public end right here a little over two weeks ago. Her face is impassive, neutral even, and she stares some of the people square in the eye. Of course they look away.
Regina spots Emma sitting by the counter and the Savior, although clearly surprised at first, does not look away. Her face is a mixture of determination and guilt and she holds her gaze. Regina approaches without breaking the eye contact and once she sees Emma open her mouth to speak does she turn her attention elsewhere.
"My usual," she tells Granny with a quick, fake smile, but the owner of the diner doesn't move, instead looks at Regina expectantly. "Please," Regina adds for the sake of politeness, like a child that has been scolded and only then does Granny move. Regina narrows her eyes when she catches the self satisfied smirk.
"Regina," Emma sounds uncertain but Regina does not turn to her.
The blonde has been trying to get a hold of her but much like anyone else, had no success. Only Henry is allowed in, he comes and goes whenever he pleases, but even her son doesn't get to talk about the one thing Regina refuses to ever deal with again. Her son, the one person she continues to adore with all her heart, has tried to cheer her up, to get her to talk, but she adamantly denied any hurt over the matter. He would sigh each time, shaking his head, knowing her better than that.
But she's here to make a statement to the public. Life goes on. Some things are not meant to be and it's time for acceptance of fate. It's time to put a lock on the doors and never to open them again.
"Look, I know you're angry-"
"What for?" Regina finally turns before Emma could finish.
The face staring back at her hardens. "Could we talk privately?" Emma asks.
"Does it concern Henry?"
"Regina, you know what this is about."
"Miss Swan, let me be clear once and for all. You and I have nothing to talk about other than the son we share."
Emma can see through this, even Regina is aware, but looking at the blonde's face is a reminder of her own conflict. Anger and blame comes so easy, and she struggles against it, maybe if she put some of it on her son's birth mother, it would be a solution but Regina is tired of feeling. A woman lives because Emma did not let her die – the same way Emma saved Regina's life before, and as instinctive as it is, she doesn't have it in her to blame and go to war with Emma Swan, no desire to relieve history any more than she already had to.
But looking at the conflicted face staring back at her, Regina doesn't find it in her to ease the guilt that is so clearly there either.
"For what's it worth," Emma whispers so that the straining ears and eyes don't get a field day, "I never meant to cause you pain."
Regina's smile is sardonic and she chuckles, it all comes with the mask the savior must be familiar with by now, and she leans a little closer. "Since when does the sudden end of a short lived fling cause pain? I'm a big girl, Miss Swan. Thank you for your concern but from now on, mind your own business."
It's a lie, because inside Regina has been burning up, torn before frustration and sadness, suffering a loss and being burned by taking a leap of faith she hasn't allowed in a long time, but this is a front and a mask and she's a master of it. And that's how it is going to be from now on to the day she dies, for there is no way she'll go through this again.
Granny returns with her coffee and Regina puts the money on the counter, not waiting for the change. Her eyes sweep the diner as she turns and with her head held high, she leaves.
She doesn't anticipate running into Robin of all people as she exits the diner. She knew this would happen and yet it is still sooner than she has anticipated but then, Regina thinks, her whole life has been about the unexpected turns and how to get through them. They stare at each other as she stands on top of the stairs. He has not come looking for her since they last saw each other and it made it easier. Somewhat. She doesn't need his pity, she doesn't need him to remind her that second chances are not needed when the first is back.
And now, she thinks, she'll make it easier for him, too. She gives a fake smile, nods her head and walks past him as though he was nobody important. And he isn't, because she cannot afford that to happen again. She doesn't look back as she walks to her car, and he doesn't call after her either. She lets out the breath she didn't realize she was holding, she's part relieved and part disappointed, but she keeps walking, away from him, and keeps telling herself that she's strong enough to do this. She's survived much, much worse.
What she doesn't see is the way his hand reaches for her before he withdraws it, how his lips open with her name on the top of his tongue, left unsaid in the wake of her quick retreat. She doesn't get to see the way he runs that hand over his face in frustration and he stays rooted to the spot, because he has no idea which way to go; in to the diner or to follow after her.
To Be Continued….