Written for OQ Prompt Party 2018.

The first time Robin tells Regina that he loves her.

Work Text:

Regina's eyes flutter open and she grins–a bit shyly and a bit lazily–as she bites down on her bottom lip, watching the way that Robin watches her.

He's still between her legs, sitting back with his legs folded beneath himself; and his hands are still holding on to her hips, his thumbs rubbing firm but absently drawn circled into the bone–and he's just watching, watching as her bare chest rises and falls as she tries in vain to catch her breath, slowly lulling herself down from her high. Her breaths are heavy and labored, and her heart is still beating wildly. Her skin is tingly and flushed with warmth, and her limbs are limp–and if it weren't the middle of the afternoon, she'd be tempted to let herself fall asleep with him, just as as they are.

"You're gorgeous," he tells her, his voice husky as his eyes trail back up to hers. "Bloody gorgeous, you know that?"

"You might've mentioned it… once or twice."

He grins, sighing a little as he pulls himself back and she feels him slip out of her.

She's lost count of how many times they've been this way together–happy and content in each other's arms–and it's quite amazing that she has. She's always been a planner, and for most of her life there wasn't a single decision she made that she didn't plan out completely. She was careful to a fault and she knew ever move she made was scrutinized by a group of men who wanted to catch her in the wrong. Yet, here she was–completely oblivious to anything and everything other than him and the way he made her feel. If she thought about it long enough, she could probably figure it out–after all, this had only been going on for a couple of months–but she didn't want to do that. She didn't want to think about it–thinking about it might ruin it, it might make her consider the risks involved and the rational part of her might decide that it was too risky and that a little fun wasn't worth everything she stood to lose. And the thought of giving up these wonderfully lazy afternoons–these stolen moments she'd come to crave–in this little cottage with its leaky roof and its dusty dirt floors made her sadder than she'd ever care to admit.

"How long can you stay?" He asks, rolling onto his side as his combs his fingers through the front of her hair. "Is it wishful thinking that you could be mine until the sun sets?"

"It is," she replies, biting harder at her lip. "But I can take another hour or so, I think." She turns herself toward him, rolling onto her side. "Henry has an archery lesson."

"Archery?" He asks, brightening.

"Mm," she nods. "He saw one of the guards practicing and he's decided he wants to try it."

"And I'm sure no one can say no to the prince."

"No, they can't," she laughs. "It's law."

"Would it be asking too much for me to show him a few little tricks some times?"

Her breath catches in her throat. "Oh, I…"

Her eyes fall away from his. She wants to say yes–in fact, she'd love to say yes–and she has no doubt that Robin would be a wonderful instructor for her son. She imagines that he'd be patient and kind, and unlike the knight who'd been tasked with teaching her son to shoot, he wouldn't be doing it out of some sense of obligation or because he had no other choice.

But she'd never invited him to come any closer and she wasn't sure how she felt about bringing him into her son's life. She worried that he'd be confusing for Henry or that the spark between them would fade and her son would be hurt. And though she hated to admit it, she worried how the Council would respond. Any indication that she'd taken a lover would cost her her crown, and though she didn't care about her title or position, she wasn't ready to force her child onto the throne.

"You don't have to say yes just because I asked," he tells her, likely sensing her discomfort. And then, before she can explain, his smile grows coy. "I just figured you'd want him to learn from the best of the best."

"And you're the best?"

"I am," he says with a decisive nod. "And everyone around knows it."

"Do they? Because I didn't."

His eyes roll as his fingers strum gently over her arm. "To be fair, you and I don't do much talking."

"Why would we?" She asks, grinning as a little laugh rises into her voice. "When there are much more enjoyable things we could be doing."

"It is pretty enjoyable, isn't it?"

"It's why I keep coming back for more."

He laughs, "And here I was thinking you were here for my charming personality."

Her stomach flops a little and her grin fades. "I do care about you, Robin. This isn't just sex." She blinks as she bites down on her lip. "At least, not anymore."

"I'm glad to hear that," he says, his voice soft as his smile shines through his eyes and his fingers continue to strum gently. "Because I think I love you."

"You… think…"

"No," he cuts in, a soft chuckle rising into his voice. "I don't think it. I know it. I know that I love you."

Her breath catches his her chest and her smile fades–and if her whole body wasn't frozen in place, she'd pull away from him. "Robin, I… I can't… I'm not…"

She swallows hard as her mind floods with all of the reasons that he shouldn't love her–and the one reason that keeps rushing forward and taking precedence over all the rest, is Mal.

Mal, the woman she loves, and the woman she can't ever truly have.

"I know you can't marry," he says, his voice still soft and his grin still sweet as his eyes narrow. "And that's not at all why I told you that."

"But isn't that the point of falling in love? To… to marry and build a life together and… and grow old together and…"

Her voice trails off and her eyes press closed; and despite her best efforts not to, she finds herself imagining having that sort of life with him–and she finds that the mere thought of it fills her with a sort of warmth that she didn't anticipate.

And then, she feels guilt stabbing at her core as she thinks of Mal and as she thinks of Henry, and she pushes away those thoughts, not allowing herself to indulge in them.

"Maybe it is to some," he says easily. "But not to, and based on your reaction, I don't think that's what it means to you, either." Reaching out, he brushes the back of his fingers over her jaw. "I just… I thought you should know." He shrugs and his grin brightens. "It doesn't really change much. Neither of us are in a position to marry. We both have…" His voice trails off and his eyes narrow a bit. "We both have other, um, obligations."

"Yes," she says, her mouth dry. "We do."

"I don't want to hold you back or complicate your life. I don't want any more than you can give," he tells her, his voice honest and soft. "And I know you'd never ask for more than what I can give." She nods as a smile draws on to his lips. "I just wanted you to know, so that on the days when you can't sneak away, on days when you feel lost and alone, on days when you feel you can't quite measure up to the impossible expectations put on you… you'll know that you're not really alone, that someone loves you and is on your side."

"That's… sweet," she murmurs, not really knowing what else to say. "I…"

"You don't have to say it back." He shakes his head. "I don't want you to say it if you don't feel it or if you're not ready to."

Her cheeks flush–and she finds herself wanting to say it back, but the words stick in her throat. She'll say it, eventually, she decides, just not now. So, instead, she pushes herself toward him, pressing her lips to his as her tongue parts his lips. She kisses his hard–hard, but not hurried–as she pushes at his shoulder, easing him onto his back as she shifts herself over him. Grinning she breaks the kiss and sits up, pressing her hand to his chest as a smile stretches across her lips and a soft giggle escapes her, and she decides that, perhaps, words aren't the only way to express feelings–and until she finds herself able to say the words, actions will have to suffice.