OUR SHOW IS BACK (and what a return that was! Such a great episode!)

Let's celebrate the end of the hellatus with a new chapter, shall we?

Here you go, guys, have some erotic drawing moments ;)


Robin's mouth goes dry at Regina's request, and he gulps as he looks at her, trying to find the joke in her words, but she means it. She wants him to draw her… naked… the mere idea of it has heat pooling in his belly. When she tells him there's charcoal pencils and some paper in the first drawer of her dresser, he realizes that she's planned the entire thing, and the fact that Regina's been thinking about baring herself to him like this makes his thoughts wonder to places they probably shouldn't just yet.

"Are you okay?" she asks him with an amused smile. Robin gulps again.

"I'm fine," he lies, and he knows he's not fooling her, but she seems to enjoy the reaction she's getting out of him at her suggestion, tilting her head up and kissing a line up his throat and to his chin.

"So?" she continues, "will you do it?"

"Su… sure," he stutters, "I mean if— if it's what you really want."

"It is."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Okay," he says again, and she laughs as she extricates herself from his arms and tells him she'll be right back, that he should set up however he wants, move stuff around if he needs to. That snaps him back into motion, and though he's still in a lust-induced haze, he starts to envision the space, the lighting he'll require, and goes about moving the couch, dragging it to the far center of the sitting room, where the light hits it from the right and illuminates the cushions, meaning it'll illuminate Regina when she's on it.

It's been barely ten minutes when she emerges, clad in a black see-through robe that covers her naked body, the diamond shining brightly where it hangs around her neck. She's gotten rid of what little makeup she was wearing and her hair is down, out of the pins that had been holding it up earlier, the long waves tumbling around her face freely, framing her lovely cheekbones and shining in the light that spills from the lamp in the corner.

"Ready?" she asks as she walks to stand in front of him, between the small chair he's set up as his work station and the couch he means for her to lie on.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he smiles sheepishly at her, anxious over what's about to happen.

"You're nervous," she finally deduces, and for some reason, his shy admission when he nods at her makes her smile, and then she walks into his arms and kisses him, bold and beautiful as ever.

"It'll be fine," she reassures in a whisper before stepping back from him and waiting for him to take a seat on his chair.

When he's ready, she walks backward until her legs hit the couch, and then she hooks her fingers into the robe over her breasts and slowly opens it, letting it fall from her body and pool down on the floor at her feet.

Robin is mesmerized by the sight of her. She's gorgeous, all gentle curves and creamy skin that just begs to be tasted and worshipped, and he can feel his cock stir when his eyes focus on her nipples, pert and tight thanks to the cold air that filters through the room.

"Stunning," he tells her, and she gives him a flirty little smile that makes his insides churn with desire. He's so distracted by the way her body catches the light when she sits on the couch that it isn't until she asks him how he wants her that he snaps out of it, telling himself to stop ogling her and focus.

He instructs her to lie on her back, propped up on the cushions he's set up by the arm of the couch. Next, he tells her to tilt her face down towards him and asks her to pivot her body the tiniest bit to the side so that it's on full display for him to capture. She doesn't seem to know what to do with her arms, so he rises from his spot and walks to her, moving them so that one is over her head, resting on the cushions behind her, and the other is bent against the couch, hand up by her temple, and that's when he sees them.

There are three faded, purplish marks on the otherwise unblemished skin of her forearm, and he doesn't need to ask to know who is responsible for them.

"I'll kill him," he seethes, and Regina shifts a little, no doubt startled by the anger that flares up in him as he looks at the bruises, and when she finally catches on to the reason behind his rage, she scrambles to cover herself up, grabbing the robe from the floor and pressing it to her chest so that it covers her front, muttering to him all the while that it's nothing, that this was a bad idea, that she should've remembered.

"No, wait," he stops her when she makes to get up, a gentle hand on her shoulder as he calms his breathing, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't, but I don't want this turning into a big deal, Robin. I'm fine, it doesn't hurt."

"But it did."

"Yes," she confesses.

"And he did that to you… because of me, because you were downstairs with me."

"It's not your fault, he doesn't know about you. He thought I was being rebellious, escaping from his watchful eye. Honestly, it's fine."

"It's not fine, Regina," Robin tells her sternly.

"Robin, it's nothing, it'll heal, and then once this trip is over I don't ever have to see him again. I want to be with you, remember? I won't marry him. True, he doesn't know that yet, but…" he stops her rambling with a smile, one that breaks out on his face despite the heaviness of the situation at hand.

"You won't marry him?" he asks, and it's silly because of course she won't, she chose him, not Leopold, but hearing her say it has a thrill running through him. She sees it, sees the spark in his eye, and smirks.

"Of course not," she reassures, putting a hand on his cheek and closing her eyes as he leans in for a kiss.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks when they pull away.

"I'm fine, and I won't let him hurt me again, I promise."

"He's stronger than you."

"You taught me how to punch, remember? I'll be alright," she winks, and Robin sighs, looks down for a moment before taking her arm gingerly in his hands and planting kisses on the marks Leopold's left on her skin, trying to be as tender as possible, and oh, how he hates that man, hates everything he's done to her, wants to torture him for harming her.

"Do you still want to do this?" he asks her in a whisper.

"Yes," she reiterates, smiling at his concern, "but I could do without the bruises showing on the drawing, if that's alright with you?"

"Okay."

"Good," she says, letting the robe fall off her again, "now, you said my hand should be somewhere up here, right?" she asks as she repositions herself against the cushions and brings her hand to her temple once more. Robin helps her rearrange her limbs, drops another kiss to the marks on her arm, and he sees the way her eyes water at the gesture, so he does it again, smiles at her and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Alright, try to stay still," he murmurs as he moves back to sit on his chair, and, "put your eyes on me, keep them on me," he tells her softly, feeling a surge of affection for her as she smiles at him with such complete trust and vulnerability that he rises from his chair again for a moment, gives her a chaste kiss on the lips and then heads back to his station.

He stares at her for long seconds, taking in the details and the shadows as they bathe her figure, and then he opens her dresser to get what he needs, rests a blank sheet of paper on the hard surface of the table in front of him, and poises the charcoal pencil on top. Finally, with a deep breath and a slightly shaky hand, Robin begins to draw.

It's been years since he's drawn from life. Other than Roland's features, which he knows by heart now even though they change so rapidly as he grows, Robin hasn't drawn a single person in ages, and he'd been wondering how difficult it would be, whether he'd be able to do justice to the beauty he saw in Regina, but as he starts tracing the lines of her arms and give shape to her silhouette on the paper, he forgets about his doubts, surrenders himself to the feeling of satisfaction he gets out of being allowed to capture such loveliness, and he basks in every second of it, his pulse growing steadier as he does. He softens the lines that form her elbows, adds shading to the inside of her arm and her palm, and then looks at her again, concentrating on attributes that are uniquely hers, little birth marks that adorn her skin, the flowing movement of her torso as she breathes, and then he drifts his focus back to the sketch, darkens the shadows on the parts of her body that rest against the cushions, adds light to the areas where the lamp's glow hits.

When he draws the gentle swell of her breasts, he blushes, and she notices the red tint of his cheeks, teases him about it with an amused comment that goes straight to his cock.

"Like what you see, mister big artiste?" she taunts in an exaggerated French accent, "I'd let you touch, but you're all the way over there," she finishes with a pouty grin and a naughty glint in her eye.

It takes him about half a dozen deep breaths to recuperate, and when he does, he gives her a stern look.

"You have to stop saying things like that if you want me to finish this," he tells her, and again she seems to revel in the effect she has on him, but she apologizes and relaxes her face so that he can carry on.

Robin can't help the flash of heat he feels when his finger moves over her nipples and stomach on the paper, smoothing the lines that are too harsh. The reverent atmosphere of the room has a strange influence on him, has him breathing shallowly and licking his dry lips every few minutes, and when he sketches the inside of her thighs and uses his finger again to blend the shapes, he looks up to find her gazing back at him intensely, her mouth open the tiniest bit, breaths heavy, and he knows then that she finds this entire experience as erotic as he does, but he takes a deep breath and goes back to the picture, trying to not think of how much he wants to touch her as he continues to work.

He draws the necklace, simple and unimportant next to the elegance of her neck, nothing but a rough, tiny little detail in the grand scheme of the piece, because that's really how he sees it, cannot add any of the jewel's opulence to the drawing because it's overpowered by Regina's stunning body and even more beautiful soul, the one that peeks out at him from her dark eyes when he finds them as he looks up at her again. There's an openness there, one that shows him everything she is in that moment, mysterious and hurt and scared and exhilarated all at the same time, and Robin realizes right then and there that while he's only known her for a few short days, he's falling madly in love with her.

It takes him a while longer to complete the piece, but as he adds a few finishing touches and blows the excess charcoal off the paper, he finds that he's proud of the result, likes the image he's created of Regina with nothing but his eyes and the charcoal pencil that now rests idle on the table in front of him. He doesn't let her see the drawing, though, not yet, because he knows she won't understand, won't see herself as beautiful as he does unless he demonstrates to her that she is.

Robin turns over the drawing and sets it aside, getting up and walking towards her. She frowns at him in confusion, but says nothing, most likely not wanting to disrupt the serene calm that seems to surround them. He trails his fingers over her waist and up her side, pausing when she tenses up for a split second.

"Are you okay?" he asks her, "I can stop if—"

"No, don't. I'm alright," she tells him.

"You sure?" he asks. Regina nods, closes her eyes as he slowly starts to coast his hands over her. Her skin is like silk, and Robin revels in how good it feels under his fingertips, focuses on committing the texture of it to memory as he moves his hands along her body, not really venturing into any of the more intimate areas, only kneeling before her and keeping to his task of caressing her, relaxing her, smiling a little when her breath deepens and her body turns pliant to his every touch.

After a few minutes, as he passes over her ribs again, he goes up a little further, to the underside of her breast, and pauses.

"Is this alright?" he asks as his fingers run tentatively over the swell, and she breathes an affirmative, but he notices she's a little shy now, a little fidgety, so he stops, lets his hands fall at his sides and asks her to please tell him what's wrong.

"I've just never… I'm not used to feeling like this," she says, sitting up from her position on the couch.

"Feeling how?" he asks, putting his hands on her knees, and she seems to sense the worry in his tone, the fear that he's pushed her too far, so she cups his cheek in her hand, rubs her thumb over his jaw as she finds the words to reply.

"Sensual? Wanted, but in a good way? I don't know how to explain it."

"Have you… this is a very uncomfortable question," he huffs, "have you and Leopold…?" and he hates himself for asking, wants nothing more than to stop having this conversation, especially now when she's bare and vulnerable in front of him, but he needs to know, to understand the extent of her issues with intimacy, because if that man has done something else to her, Robin will kill him.

"Not while we've been on the ship. Actually, not for about a month now, when I think of it… but yes, a few times. Mostly I just lie there and wait for him to finish… it's not something I've enjoyed," she closes in on herself now, hugs her arms around her naked torso and looks away from him, ashamed of herself, and Robin has a hard time curving his anger at that wretched man, can feel his need to make him suffer boiling within his very skin as he looks down at her bruises again and screws up his face in rage, but he takes deep breaths and manages to calm down, for her, because he doesn't want to scare her, wants her to feel safe with him.

"Regina," her eyes snap back to his when he breathes her name, "you don't have to hide from me."

"You might not like what you see," she says quietly, staring blankly at a spot in the wall.

He takes her hand then, draws her arm away from her chest, and kisses the inside of her wrist, the crook of her elbow, and then her shoulder, rising and sitting on the couch next to her as he nuzzles her neck, enjoying the contented sigh she gives in return.

"I already adore what I see," he says against her skin before pulling away to look into her eyes again, "and I won't break you like he has, I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. Please, you don't ever have to be wary of me."

"I'm not, I swear I'm not. I'm just… nervous. I'm not used to someone caring," she says with a sad smile.

Robin takes a deep breath, then notices the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, and it's perfect, he thinks, because now he can show her.

"Come here," he says as he rises to his feet and extends a hand to her. She takes it, rises with him, and he moves them towards the mirror, making her stand in front of it so that her own full reflection is staring back at her as he stays behind her, his chin on her shoulder and one of his hands on her waist.

"You are exquisite," he murmurs against her neck as he lets his free hand trail over her shoulder and down her arm, "no one should make you feel anything less."

He plants a kiss there on her neck, lets the tip of his tongue lick her skin for just a second as his hand grows bolder, travels over her chest, down the valley between her breasts and down, down, down to her navel before going back up over her side and then down again at her back. He hears her breath hitch and sees in the mirror that her eyes have closed, her head lolling back.

"Open your eyes, Regina," he coaxes gently, and she does, stares back into his in the mirror.

"I want you to see yourself the way I do," he says in a low voice, "I want you to feel pleasure, I want to show you how breathtaking you are."

She turns in his arms then, crashes their lips together, and it's heated and sloppy and he loves it, loves that she's trusting him with this. Her tongue plays with his ardently, and he has a hard time slowing down their kiss when she starts to rake her nails up and down his back, but he stops, turns her back around and lets her back press firmly into his chest as he holds her and once again brings his hands to her body, his nose nuzzling into her hair, taking in the delicious cinnamon scent of it, and then he starts talking to her, telling her how much he wants her, how the sounds coming out of her mouth are driving him to the brink.

"You're so beautiful," he says as he licks a trail up her jaw, and her hand flies to the nape of his neck, tangles in the hair there.

"Robin," she utters when he bites at her earlobe, and fuck if that breathy moan of his name is not the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

He waits for her nod of approval when he reaches for her breasts, massages them and rocks their bodies back and forth. It thrills him to have her like this, because this is exactly what he wants, wants her to feel desired for the right reasons, in the right way.

"You've no idea how arousing it is to watch you like this, to kiss those delicious lips of yours that drive me to distraction every time I see them," he murmurs as her hand drops from his nape and he moves to the other side, kissing her shoulder. He continues his whispered affections, telling her how touching her this way is a gift she's allowing him to have, how he won't ever betray her trust.

"I want to worship you the way you deserve, Regina," he tells her when he sucks at her pulse point, and she gasps at the words.

All the while, his hands are running up and down her figure, squeezing her breasts and rolling her nipples as he kisses her skin between words of devotion, and then he moves his right hand down her front, his fingers splaying on the skin right under her belly button and dipping lower to the neat patch of hair between her legs.

"Okay?" he asks in a heated whisper in her ear, and she nods frantically, her eyes half-lidded and dark as they stare at the mirror, at what he's doing to her. Robin goes back to kissing her neck, switching sides again after a few seconds and then going up her jawline until he's peppering kisses right under her ear, settling there for a moment before he stops. She's panting and licking her dry lips as she looks back at their reflections, and he keeps his eyes on hers as he brings his right hand up again, licks his fingers and lets them slip back down to explore her.

She's a sight to behold, completely aroused and fully surrendering to his touch as he lets one finger rub lazily over the sensitive spot between her thighs. She bites her lip at the sensation and opens her legs a little further, rolling her hips to increase the friction. Robin then ventures that same finger inside her slowly, teasing her opening before he goes all the way in, and he groans into her shoulder when he feels how wet and warm she is.

"God, you feel amazing," he rasps, and she groans at his comment, turns her head to kiss his mouth eagerly, her hand clutching at the hair at his nape again when he lets a second finger join the first, the rocking of her hips growing a bit more insistent after a couple of minutes. She's instinctively looking for stimulation to her clit, and he gives it to her, uses his thumb to rub over it while his fingers remain buried in her, circling instead of thrusting in and out, until he hits a sweet spot that makes her buck wildly against his hand. He stays there, flicking at it over and over again inside her while she gasps out his name and asks for more, her body sagging against him. It's then when he notices her eyes are closed again, so he stops, and she whines as she opens her dark brown orbs to look at him in the mirror, frustrated at the ceasing of his attentions.

"Keep your eyes open," he tells her as he starts up again, pumping his fingers into her as he nips at her shoulder and uses his other hand to roll one nipple, then the other, "I want you to see how incredible you are, how desirable. You are stunning," he says, "and not just because you're beautiful, but because you're strong, and intelligent, and passionate. You are all of those things and so much more," he tells her as he begins to thrust his hand faster and harder into her, her whimpers of pleasure almost drowning out his voice, her grip on his hair bordering on painful.

"Robin," she breathes, "you… oh, god… you feel… oh!… you feel so good."

"That's it, give into it. You deserve to feel good, you deserve to be cherished," he encourages, "you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore, Regina."

He keeps it up that way, his fingers relentless as she cries out when he sucks on a spot on her neck that he's now discovered makes her crazy.

"You deserve to feel pleasure, you deserve to be free," he tells her, "let go for me, lovely."

He bites on her earlobe right after he says the words, and then looks back at the mirror just in time to watch her come undone, her muscles clenching and squeezing his fingers inside her as she writhes and moans, her face contorted in an expression of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. A moment later she loses her footing, her legs giving out with the intensity of her orgasm, but he holds her steady, his other hand dropping from her breasts and looping around her belly to keep her up and tethered to him while he pumps his fingers slowly, loving the sight of her riding out her climax on his hand, panting as her head drops back to his shoulder and she turns to the side to press her face into the crook of his neck.

His fingers slip out of her as they stumble back to the couch, Regina sinking into the cushions next to him as she sighs blissfully, and Robin chuckles at her satisfied little smile as he snakes his arms around her middle, turning her and lifting her over his body so that she's astride him, one hand on his chest, her nose skimming up his throat and lips planting a tiny kiss on his jaw.

She moves her hand then, down his chest and stomach, but he stops her before she can go any further, wrapping his index and thumb around her wrist and pulling it away from him gently.

"There's no need for that," he tells her when she frowns at him in confusion, "this was for you."

"That hardly seems fair," she replies, "I want you to enjoy this, too."

"Oh, believe me," he says with a smirk as he rolls his hips under her so she can feel his erection straining within his trousers, "I enjoyed myself plenty."

He notices how Regina's breathing goes shallow when she feels him, and his own breath leaves him when she moves down on him just so, grinding her wet, bare sex right on his cock over his clothes and closing her eyes for a moment before she swoops down and kisses him, her tongue teasing his and her teeth biting down on his lip. They pull away to catch their breaths, and Robin lets his hands fall down from her waist until they're resting on her ass.

"I mean it," he tells her sincerely, squeezing his fingers into the tender skin, "knowing that you were reacting that way to me, because of me, that I can do that to you… God, I could come just from watching you," he says as his eyes drift shut at the memories of just minutes ago, when she was panting and writhing under his touch.

"Thank you," she breathes against his chest before she lands a tiny kiss there, "that was… I felt so alive."

"I don't ever want you to feel stifled with me, Regina. I want you to learn about yourself, what makes you feel good, and not just sexually, but in everything. I want you to be free to choose, to explore. You deserve that, and I want to give it to you."

"Thank you," she tells him again, shivering a little now that her body's cooled down and the light sheen of sweat on her skin is hit by the cold air. They've neglected to turn the room's heaters on, so the place feels quite chilly, but she doesn't attempt to get dressed or even cover herself up, so Robin shifts her off of him for a moment, stands them both up and grabs her robe, wrapping it around her like a blanket and moving until he's fully lying on the couch, his neck and head propped up on the cushions. He opens his arms to her, and she goes willingly, lying on her side between his body and the richly upholstered back of the couch, head pillowed on his chest, right over his heart, a naked leg draped over both of his.

They stay there for what feels like hours, just talking and laughing lightly, his nose buried in her hair. She tilts her head up after a moment and they share a few kisses, chaste but wonderful all the same, and when they part, he moves his free hand so he can trail the pad of his thumb over the scar on her lip.

"How did you get this?" he asks her, and the way her lazy grin falters lets him know the origin of the mark is a lot darker than he'd expected, so he backtracks immediately, "you don't have to tell me."

"No, I want to," she says, "it's just… it's not your usual, funny, I-was-running-and-fell-on-my-face kind of story, it's a bit more twisted than that," she warns.

"I think I can handle it… and you can kiss me awake if I have nightmares about it later," he teases to try and get her to relax, and it works, makes a small smile grace her lips as she huffs out a breath. He runs his thumb over the scar again, watching as she closes her eyes and says nothing for a moment, merely kisses his thumb where it reaches her lips and takes deep breaths until finally, when he threads his hand in her hair and runs that same thumb over her cheekbone, she finds it in herself to speak.

"When I was sixteen, I met a boy…" she starts, and blushes as she says the words, making Robin grin at her, "he, um, he took care of the stables on our estate, tended to the horses, minded their stalls... His name was Daniel, and we were crazy about each other. We'd sneak out in the middle of the night and take the horses up to this place called Firefly Hill, that's where he kissed me for the first time, and it became sort of our secret hideout, so we'd escape there as often as we could. Our entire relationship was nothing more than riding horses and stealing kisses between lunch and tea, but we were happy."

"Mm, sounds nice," Robin agrees with a nod as she lets her head fall back down on his chest, his chin colliding softly with her hairline.

"It was, for a while anyway. A few days after my seventeenth birthday, my mother found out about us, and she wasn't happy."

"Is she ever?" he jokes, sensing that the worst part of the story is coming and wanting to lighten the atmosphere just a little, to give her a respite before she has to relive painful memories.

"Fair point," she answers with a laugh, "anyway, she saw me and Daniel kissing in the stables, and she went berserk. Yelled at us, said that one's trajectory should be up and Daniel, of course, was down, that I was an idiot if I thought she'd let me be reduced to shacking up with the stable boy. Daniel defied her, told her he loved me, it was the first time I'd ever heard him say those words, and I felt so… empowered by them. I was foolish enough to think that him loving me was all it would take for me to break free of her, so I defied her, too."

"I'm sensing that didn't go over well," Robin ventures, and her arm wraps around his stomach in response, her cheek resting against his chest as she continues to speak, her tone growing somber.

"She slapped me, up until then she'd never done that to me before. She was wearing this really big diamond ring on her finger and, well, it cut me."

"Wait, your mother gave you that scar?!" he asks against her hair, and he supposes he should've seen it coming, given the turn the story has taken, but it startles him all the same. She nods against him, trembles a little at the memory.

"She fired Daniel after that, threatened to have him framed for robbery or something worse and thrown in jail for the rest of his life if he ever so much as breathed the same air as me, and then she locked me up, forbid me to ride horses or even venture outside unaccompanied. I didn't leave the house for about a month. Daniel tried to help, entered a horse race to try and win the prize money, he wanted to become rich so mother wouldn't object to us being together. The horse threw him off mid-race, got spooked by something, I don't know… and he cracked his skull against a rock."

Robin kisses her head then, wanting to comfort her, and he's about to tell her she doesn't need to say anything else, doesn't need to continue if it's too painful, but she keeps talking, stopping his reassurances before he can even voice them.

"Mother wouldn't let me attend his funeral, told me this scar and his death both served me right, that it would all help me remember who I was and stop my silly attempts to challenge her. I tried to escape one night when she and father were busy with some visitors, I wanted to leave and never come back. I put together a bag with essentials and climbed out my window, but one of the servant girls told mother on me and she caught me, dragged me back inside and insulted me, humiliated me in front of my father and his colleagues." She gives a humorless laugh before she continues, her finger absentmindedly trailing circles over his chest.

"I remember it so vividly, the way I fought back, told her it was my life, and she laughed at me, shook her head and said 'you foolish girl, it's mine,' like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I stopped fighting her after that, convinced myself that there was no point to it anymore. My father was a kind man, but he never protected me from my mother, and Daniel was gone, where would I run? I was seventeen and scared and alone, with no one to understand what I was going through."

Robin hooks a finger under her chin then, lifts her face up to him and kisses her cheeks to clear them of the tears that have now begun to fall. She's felt so much pain, so much sadness, and it kills him that he can't fix it, that he can't erase such terrible memories from her mind.

"I want you to know," he tells her, "that no matter what happens, you'll never be alone again. I'll always protect you, Regina." He means it. Regardless of where they end up, if for some strange reason what is happening between them now fizzles out somewhere down the road, he knows he'll never stop wanting her happiness, knows he'll never stop helping her find it, even if it's not with him (though he really, truly hopes it's with him).

She responds to his words and soft caresses with a watery smile and a fervent kiss on his lips, and then he hugs her to him, lets her bury her face in the crook of his neck again as he holds her and feels a few tears dampen his shirt. He says nothing, doesn't think there's anything else to say, but he continues to run a soothing hand up and down her back as she cries silently.

Minutes later, her shoulders stop shaking, and she sighs against him, the hot air she blows against his skin making him nudge her forehead with his lips so they can press a kiss there, and then she looks up at him, eyes red-rimmed and glassy, but she's smiling, as if a weight has been lifted off of her, and he hopes that it has, that his reassurances and his touch have managed to curve some of her anxiety, eliminate some of her fears.

"Robin," she says, smile still in place, "as much as I love snuggling with you, I think I'm going to need a proper huggle."

He laughs, cuddles her closer for a second and then kisses the tip of her nose before replying.

"As milady wishes," he tells her, "go ahead and get dressed while I clean up here, then we can go find Roland."

"First things first," she interrupts, pointing to his abandoned work station and the portfolio that rests there, "show me."

Robin's eyes widen when he realizes she has yet to see the drawing she commissioned, and he grows nervous then, not knowing if she'll like it. He feels her move off of him, wrapping the robe tighter around herself when she can no longer feel his warmth, and waits on the couch while he gets up and grabs the sheet of paper. He looks at the piece, then back at her, and takes a deep breath before depositing it in her lap, stepping back and waiting anxiously for her verdict.

Regina smirks at his nerves before she looks down at the drawing, and then she gasps. When her gaze drifts back up to him, a single tear is falling down her left cheek, and Robin immediately thinks the worst.

"I can try again, I can do better," he can't, he really can't, he gave it his all, but he'll try, for her, because he wants to please her, but then she's shaking her head as more tears fall, and she's smiling at him, beaming, actually.

"This is… Robin, this is incredible," she breathes, and he feels his entire body sag with relief at her words. Regina doesn't seem to notice his inner turmoil, as she's now running a delicate finger down the lines of her arm on the paper, mouth half-open in wonder.

"What is it?" he asks, sinking down to his knees in front of her, much like he had done earlier.

"I don't think I've ever felt more beautiful than I do now, looking at this," she tells him with a trembling voice, and he smiles, stretches up to peck her lips softly, and then takes the drawing and lays it gently on the couch next to her as he sinks back down, holding both her hands in his and kissing her knuckles.

He wants to tell her so badly, the need to profess that he's falling in love with her eats at him as he stares into her eyes, sparkling with happiness as they look back into his, but it's too soon, and today has been emotionally taxing on both of them, so he doesn't, chooses to wait for a more appropriate time, when his confession won't overwhelm her.

"I love that I can make you feel that way," he says instead, smiling at her when she runs the backs of her fingers down his cheek.

"I should probably get dressed," she tells him after long seconds of staring at each other with stupid smiles on their faces.

"I changed my mind about that. Forget the clothes, I actually quite like you like this," Robin smirks as they both stand, his hands sliding up her thighs and resting on her waist.

"It's a bit too cold outside to wander up on deck in the nude, don't you think?" she teases, and his hold on her tightens for a moment before he reluctantly lets go.

"Fine," he says with a pout, "go dress, and then we can go get you all huggled up."

He puts things back in order as she walks into the vast closet to get ready and then settles by the couch to wait for her. His jaw drops when she emerges a few minutes later, clothed in an airy fabric, all white except for the lavender on her sleeves and the sides of the bodice, and a light pink sash tied around her waist, flowing down at the back and joining the small train at the bottom. She's left her hair down, curls loose and beautiful around her face, and he can't resist the urge to touch, lifting a hand to tangle his index finger into one of the thick waves as he stares at her.

"You look gorgeous," he tells her, and she smiles in thanks.

"There's one more thing I need to do," she says as she takes off the necklace, "help me put this back in the safe?"

He nods as she drops the diamond on his hand, and Robin does as he's told while she goes to the small chest by her coffee table. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her pull out stationary paper and a fountain pen from the tiny coffer, and when he comes back to where he'd left her, he finds her writing out a note in elegant, well-practiced script.

"What is that?" he asks.

"A greeting for my soon-to-be-ex-fiancé," she replies with a mischievous smile, and Robin chuckles when his eyes focus on the words she's scribbled on the paper.

Darling,

Now you can keep both me and your precious diamond locked up in your safe.

Enjoy the artwork. You'll get nothing else from me ever again.

-Regina.

"That's quite bold," he tells her after a moment of amused admiration, "are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely," she says, unwavering as she puts the note and the drawing inside the safe, right on top of the velvet box where Robin's just placed the diamond, "I'm done submitting myself to him."

"I'm proud of you," is his only response, shifting ever closer to her and bumping her nose affectionately with his.

He's about to kiss her when they hear the lock on her door being tampered with, as if someone is trying to get into the room. Regina gasps as she looks at the clock.

"Sidney."

"Who?" Robin asks, hands rubbing up and down her arms to calm down the nerves he sees bubbling up in her.

"Leopold's man," she clarifies, "we've lost track of time. They probably sent him to see why I didn't join them for lunch like they told me to."

Robin nods then, understanding, and takes her hand firmly in his.

"Then it's best he doesn't find you here."

"No, wait, I'll get rid of him, just hide," she says, shoving him into her closet and closing it behind her just as the door swings open.

"Ah, Miss Mills," Sidney greets, "Mr. Blanchard wondered why you weren't at luncheon."

"I fell asleep, but I'm almost ready, I'll be right down," Robin hears her say.

"I see…" he says, and Robin's skin crawls at the menacing quality the man's tone takes as he mutters, "and here I thought you'd be gallivanting with your friend from downstairs."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replies, but this Sidney fellow isn't fooled.

"Oh, I think you do, but I'm willing to stay quiet and let you have your little adventure… for a price, of course."

"A price?" Regina asks, and Robin senses the slight tremor in her words.

"Precisely. You're a very beautiful woman, I'm sure we can come to some arrangement," Sidney says then.

"Excuse me?!" she balks.

"Come on, I know you want it, too," Sidney tells her, and when Robin hears Regina's fearful "what are you doing? Don't touch me!" he can no longer stay still, runs out of his hiding place and pushes Sidney off her, landing a fist on the man's face and knocking him to the floor before enveloping her in his arms, letting go only so he can hover his hands over her face worriedly.

"Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" he asks in an unsteady voice as his eyes search for possible damage.

"I'm fine, I'm okay," she assures him, though her eyes are bright and wide with fear.

They hear Sidney's grunt as he starts to get up, and Robin doesn't even stop to think, practically hauls Regina out of the room. They lose themselves in a small crowd walking down the hallway, but before they can get too far, the man's caught sight of them and is heading their way, shutting the door to Regina's rooms behind him with a loud, angry bang that startles some of the people passing by. Robin looks at Regina, takes her hand, and then they run.