welcome to another chapter of this bitch.
woahza, chapter 10! when i first started writing this, I had every intention of not going past 3 chapters, but here we are. I have also reached past 100 faves which is amazing, bc I hadn't even imagined getting ten faves hahaha thank you everyone.
this is for Tarisa, my muse whisperer and for Miles bc I promised her porn and bc her last review challenged me, hence this chapter. and for EvilRegalGirl to fulfill her prompt in a way! Hello dear. Enjoy.
Unbeta-ed till its last chapter probably, mistakes are mine, blah blah blah, yada yada yada.
on with the filth. let it be known that I will die if my mother finds out about this-yeah it's kinda at that level.
Chapter Ten
Regina Mills is a restless sleeper.
She knows that better than anyone. Mostly, it's because her sleep is plagued by dreams, no, actually, nightmares. When she'd still been the Queen, and Leopold had still been alive, she dreams of Daniel constantly. It always starts out nice, she dreams of him and her riding their horses, galloping through the fields down to firefly hill. He'd help her down and kiss her, and she'd feel so light, feels like her dreams are spun in gossamer silk, so delicate and so beautiful. But then it morphs to that night in the stables where her own mother took her lover's life, and forever changed Regina. She wakes up heaving and crying on those days and she'd rage, hating the life she'd been subjected to, and for the millionth time wishing she could reclaim her life and be free.
She thought that by casting the curse, she'd be free, and along with it, the dreams would go.
But she'd been wrong, for even in Storybrooke, she remained dreaming—of her father, this time. She believes now, and believed then, that it had been the manifestation of the guilt she feels over killing her own father. She doesn't talk about it (not that she has anyone to talk to about it, at that point), and she doesn't like thinking about it, but it had been forefront in her mind always, as she feels so keenly the loss of the only person who had ever believed in her, who loved her and everything that she was, is. She always woke hating herself, tears coursing down her cheeks.
When her son had come along, the dreams had stopped, the nightmares had gone. Mostly, she attributes it to the fact that she didn't have enough time for sleeping, and therefore couldn't have the dreams, but it's also because of her son, because he brought a light into her life she hadn't realized she'd needed.
Her nightmares had been gone up until the point when her son started pulling away from her, and she'd had vivid nightmares of Emma Swan taking her son from her…which eventually turned into reality.
Lately, since they've come back to the enchanted Forest, she's had more nightmares than she could count. She'd conjure a potion for it, but she tends to be more drained when she takes the potion (which Rumple had taught her to make), and at this point, she cannot afford to not have energy. So she bears the nightmares that plague her, lets her heart break over and over as her mind replays that exact moment she'd had to give up the only person who had given her happiness.
It had been a blessing, really, when she started having Robin over, not that she would ever admit that aloud, but he had been able to keep the nightmares at bay. She'd slept soundly in his arms.
So, yes, she is a restless sleeper.
Something that she's proved even further when Robin had been once again deployed to patrol the parameter with his men, extending down south just to make sure that everyone is safe and protected from her wicked sister and her simian army, and it's taken him and his men more than just a night to finish the task.
He's left her in charge of his son, something that perked up the young boy considerably upon knowing his father was going to go away for a while, making Regina a bit calmer (he buttered her up, she knows, because he knows she won't have agreed not to go with them otherwise), but that had also meant sleeping without him—which, from Regina's point of view, is pretty damn near impossible.
Still, she tries to, after settling Roland in the bedchamber next to hers, she plops down her bed with a heavy sigh and tries to fall asleep…tries to fall asleep without dreaming.
She closes her eyes and feels herself transported into another realm.
She is in Storybrooke, she knows it, can tell the difference between the trees from here in the Enchanted Forest and from there. She is sitting on a bench, the pond just a little ways over, and she looks around the place with weariness that her battered heart feels acutely.
Everything seems so real, the picturesque view so real and so alive that she starts to believe that she's in Maine. She watches as her son, Henry, looks at her from where he is standing near the pond, beside a little boy—is that Roland? And yes, yes it is Roland, and then Roland is turning to her, both boys waving. They both look older now, maybe a good two, three years older—Henry definitely looks a lot taller than she remembers.
But what is Roland doing here?
And then from her peripheral vision, she sees Robin coming towards her with a little girl—probably around three years old—and they are both smiling at her. Her thief is grinning at her adoringly while the little girl is giving her a toothy grin. She looks like Robin with that smile—her dimples so akin like Robin's and it's not that hard to deduce that Robin is the father, also considering the girl's blue eyes.
But the girl's hair is raven, and if her eyes are deceiving her, she looks exactly as Regina had when she was that age—she looks like Regina does now, in fact, barring the blue eyes and dimples. And no, this can't be happening.
Is that their daughter?
How?
"There's your mummy, Harper," Robin coos to the smiling child as they reached her. "Isn't she beautiful?"
Regina throws Robin a look, and she'd say something more if she isn't so paralyzed by what is happening, so confused. This is their child, it appears. Not anyone else's, hers and Robin's.
"Mumma," the child says, lifting both arms and reaching towards her.
Regina, though confounded by the turn of events, reaches out for the kid—a motherly instinct she cannot curb. She settles the child—her child, Harper, into her lap and holds on to the little girl as the little girl rests her tiny head onto her mother's chest. Her thumb immediately goes to her mouth as Robin settles beside her, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. Through the haze of confusion, Regina feels contentment surge through her body, her soul, as if this is the home she's been trying to find all this time.
She looks down as the child on her lap tugs at the lapel of her coat. Blue meets warm honey, and the child grins at her, dimpled cheek in full display.
"I love you mommy," she says before pulling on Regina until their faces are level where she smacks her puckered lips against Regina's and then settling back down on her chest.
Regina swallows the lump on her throat.
Jesus, this is coming home.
Then she wakes, gasping, sweat beading against her forehead, the weight on her left hip preventing her from shooting up from the bed. She places her hand flat on her chest and looks at her side to find Roland sleeping contentedly by her side.
How long has she been asleep?
And how did she not wake when Roland had come in?
Sighing, and trying as much as she can to put her dream at the back of her head—to be re-examined at a much later date, she turn and gathers the boy into her arms, cuddling into him and inhaling the scent that he and his father seem to have exclusively, she falls once more into a more restful sleep.
...
When she wakes the next morning, she feels the tension climb up her shoulders as her mind remembers the dream she's had the night before. It unnerves her, how much she wants that—how much her heart betrays her mind because she knows better than to hope and want for anything as beautiful as that but hope and want she does. She wants that so much—to have that life with Robin, Roland and Henry, and maybe, hopefully, any future other children they may be granted with.
But she knows better—her bruised and battered heart knows better after everything she's been through—and she knows, Villains don't get happy ending.
However her son and her thief might want to believe that she isn't, and that she is no longer the woman she used to be, the Evil Queen feared by many for her brutality and cruelness, she is that woman, will always be that woman. After everything she's done, there is no way she could ever get a happy ending.
Maybe, it's all the time she's spent with the thief that has her dreaming about things like that, she mulls over as she walks to the dining hall, Roland's clasped tightly in hers, and he babbles on and on about his night, about he'd snuck in the night into her bedchambers because he'd been afraid—he'd been properly reprimanded for that one—and his dreams, which Regina had been half-listening to but pretended that she'd been listening intently, nodding, mhmm-ing and ah-ing at the right times (she's had her fair bit of practice, this isn't her first rodeo, after all—she's had Snow and then Henry).
Roland had run off to the Merry Men left in the castle (they'd divided themselves into two groups: Robin's who went to patrol and Friar Tuck's who are there to help out in the castle), the moment they entered the hall. And she'd let him, knowing that he'd be safe with the band of thieves that he and his father call their family. She had instead walked directly to where Snow White and David had been sitting, at the very head of the table and took her place beside them.
Up until now, she still finds it amusing—the ironic way in which fates move: she's sitting here beside the people she had once wanted nothing but to kill. And she actually has formed a tentative friendship with them, considers them allies at this moment in their need to defeat her wicked bitch of a sister.
Snow takes one look at her and she's frowning.
"You've got bags under your eyes," Snow comments unnecessarily once she lowers herself onto her chair and David leaves them a bit to have a talk with one of the munchkins at the buffet table. "You look like death warmed you over."
Regina scoffs and glares at the little Snowflake. "Thanks," she says, sarcasm dripping all over her tone. "That just warms my heart."
Snow shakes her head. "I didn't mean that as an insult," she explains, making Regina raise an eyebrow to say really?, and purse her lips in distaste. "I only mean that you haven't been sleeping," Regina rolls her eyes at this, making Snow sigh before continuing: in a whisper so loud she might as well just have used her normal voice. "Is it because of Robin?"
Regina looks at her as if she's grown another head. She must have. "Why would I care about Robin?" she asks, her voice going up an octave, making her wince internally—because way to go in making Snow believe that no, Robin is not the reason.
"Ah, but it's Robin now and not the thief, isn't it?" Snow says smugly, with that little smirk that Regina would have gladly slapped off her face up until almost a year ago.
Regina remains silent but huffs through her nose. She looks away, lest Snow finds the concern she holds for Robin in her eyes. She does not want to play twenty questions for breakfast (unless she's playing it with Robin and he happens to be the breakfast—but ugh, wrong thoughts, Mills).
"Regina, you can give the jig up," Snow continues, making Regina's head snap back at her so fast that it makes a loud popping sound. "I know. God, I'm surprised the whole castle doesn't know."
Regina swallows. God, if Snow can't-keep-a-freaking-secret White knows, then every. Single. One. Must know by now. But still, denial is the way to go, so she raises and eyebrow and crosses her arm against her chest defensively.
"Know what?" she asks coldly.
Snow actually looks around her before leaning closer to Regina and whispering, mercifully, in a low voice: "You and Robin—you're together."
Regina strangles the gasp that wants to claw its way out of her throat. She looks at Snow passively, or somehow she hopes it looks passive. "We aren't together," she flat out denies. But really, they aren't together, are they? Sure they have sex, plenty of sex, great sex. But they aren't in a relationship—no. "I would never."
Snow looks at her, definitely not amused at her attempts to deny whatever it is that is going on with her and Robin.
Really, it's none of Snow's damn business anyway.
"Right," Snow says dryly. "You're totally not having sex. You think you're so subtle. Please, Regina, I wasn't born yesterday." She scoffs.
Regina rolls her eyes and huffs indignantly. "I don't see how this is any of your business," she says sounding so defensive she could just about swallow her own tongue.
Snow chuckles, looking pleased (and Regina wants to damn well know why). "So you aren't denying it?" Snow asks gleefully.
"It's none of your business," Regina reiterates, adding: "Whatever is going on between me and him is between me and him."
Snow looks like Regina just handed her the winning numbers. "Okay but something is going on between the two of you?" she asks excitedly, and at Regina's silence, she grins so widely, she looks like she's going to pop. "I'm so happy for you!"
Regina holds up her hand. "Woah, before you throw a grand ball in my honor, let me hold you right there," she says. "He and I are not in a relationship."
"Sure you aren't," Snow says, with an unimpressed frown. "That's why you're so worried about him."
Regina frowns as well, not liking where this is taking them. "Who says anything about me being worried?" she asks, determined to put down any notion that Snow White would most definitely put in her head about Robin and her and happy endings. No, she's had enough of that, thank you very much.
"No one has to," Snow says, with a shrug just as Charming gets to the table and takes the seat next to her. "It's written on your face."
"What is written on Regina's face," David asks once he's settled.
"Your being worse than a lady when it comes to gossip," Regina snaps at him before standing up to gather Robin's son and feed him and herself some breakfast.
...
Regina further proves her theory decades ago that Snow White isn't so easily dispatched and would definitely outlive a cockroach, as the said little snowflake finds her after she's put down Roland for a nap.
Granted, she isn't really hiding in a very Snow-proof place—she's been at the library, poring over books, looking for spell to defeat the wicked bitch—but still.
"We didn't finish our talk this morning," Snow says as she stands by the door frame, arms crossed and with a smile on her face.
Regina sighs at her. "Must we really?" she asks. "I have rather pressing things to do than talk about boys."
Snow ignores the jab and instead crosses the threshold to take the vacant seat in front of Regina. "Regina, you mustn't close yourself off of love," she says seriously with a little emphatic smile.
Regina rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Like that worked out so well for me," she says gravely. "I had love, and he's dead. Hoping for another won't get me anything but heartbreak." In her mind, her dream from last night echoes and intensifies the pain and makes her want to lash out.
"Regina—," Snow begins but Regina cuts her off.
"No," Regina exclaims with an angry glare and voice—angry everything. "No, Snow, no you don't get to tell me to keep up hope and just believe that there is a second chance for me at love. I can't. I can't love again, can't love ever. Everything I love, it gets destroyed, everyone I ever loved they get taken away from me. I'm not you. Help does not magically appear whenever I need it, instead I get handed with heartbreak and death in my hands." She stands from her chair even as her knees tremble. "I can't just love again and expect a happy ending. I'm a villain, and villains don't get happy endings."
Snow sighs and shakes her head. "I know I took your chance at a happy ending once," she says in a quiet voice and it makes Regina feel guilty, they are supposed to be past this. It makes Regina's knees buckle and she sits back down as Snow continues, "But I'd like to believe in second chances, in a chance at grace."
Second chances—Robin's told her before that everyone deserves a second chance—does that even extend to Evil Queens?
Snow takes her hand in hers and squeezes. "What is this all about?" she asks. "Are you very worried about Robin? Perhaps next time, we could just ask him to stay here rather than patrol?"
Regina shakes her head, that won't do. Robin loves helping, being useful, he won't take to being told not to go—even if it pains her.
"That's not necessary," she says with a heavy sigh. "I trust in his ability to come back to me in one piece, even when I worry sometimes. It's not that."
"Then tell me what it is," Snow urges, her voice soft and cajoling.
And really, if she cannot tell Snow White, who can she tell?
She sighs. "I had a dream last night," Regina says, closing her eyes as the memory of her dream flashes once more before her eyes. At Snow's nod, she continues: "Robin and I, we're in Storybrooke, with Henry and Roland…" she pauses.
"That's nice…maybe someday?" Snow offers, but Regina shakes her head.
"And a daughter named Harper," Regina adds in a soft, small voice, as if saying it any louder would break it, or make it more real—she doesn't know which one she prefers.
"A daughter?" Snow asks. "Yours and Robin's?"
Regina nods slowly. "But it won't happen, I know it won't," she says, wanting nothing more than to weep but really, she can't afford to do that over a stupid dream.
"Regina…" Snow begins softly, but Regina interrupts.
"No, Snow," Regina says with a shake of her head. "Why do you think you've never had a sibling? Surely you must know that your father and I do not just talk about politics when he calls me to his bedchambers. Storks do not deliver babies."
Snow visibly reddens at Regina's words but shakes her head and carries on. "There are other ways to have babies. You don't love Henry any less just because he's adopted, do you?" Regina shakes her head: of course not. And Snow smiles. "Maybe it's hope…a sign that things would work out for you."
Regina bites her lip, restraining herself physically from shaking her head. "Does the hope commission pay you every time you say that word? Admit it," she says, the bite of her words all but nonexistent as Snow chuckles.
"No," Snow says. "But you always got to have hope…losing hope is like giving in and giving up."
Regina sighs once more. "Well, if that works, I'll give you a quarter."
Snow White only chuckles.
(*)
Robin could honestly say that he's never been happier to enter a castle in his whole life. The past two day away from his son and the woman he loves is pure torture, and he couldn't help but be grateful that they have been able to come back now and he could finally see them.
He enters the castle through the kitchen rather than the front entrance. The reason had been because all of them who had gone on patrol are completely starving, having forgone hunting in favor of getting back a lot earlier. Luckily, Granny had some leftover dinner ready (they'd arrived later than they thought they would), and him and the rest of the men who went on patrol have devoured that in a matter of minutes.
Granny had still been puttering around the kitchen, making some confection that looks absolutely divine and mouthwatering. One of his men had teased and asked for a taste, but Granny had shaken her head and said that it was for her majesty, as requested by Princess Snow, and after that there had been no discussion as to whether they should get a taste or not. No one had wanted to crawl up the Queen's bad side, definitely.
"I could take it up to her," Robin offers, once the men had started clearing out and Granny's cake—whatever that is—had been finished. Granny gives him a look that makes him blanch before he stutters: "I'm sure my son is with her, so I'm just going to drop this off and collect him."
Granny smirks at him knowingly. He swallows. Granny knows.
Christ almighty, Regina is going to murder him—draw him out and quarter him, char him to crisp or rip his heart out—it doesn't matter, she's going to kill him.
"Sure you are," Granny says, sounding smug. Robin feels his heart drop even further. "Here you go, careful not to drop it."
Robin nods and with the confection safely in his hand, dashes out of the kitchen and into his Queen's bedchambers. He knocks gently before grasping the knob and turning, only mildly surprised but majorly turned on to find his Queen ready for bed, wearing nothing but his own dress shirt and a red tinge coloring her cheek.
"Milady," he greets as he steps in her room and closes the door behind him. He'll check on Roland later, his son is most probably asleep by now.
"Thief," she greets, squaring her shoulders as she raises her eyebrow. "Cheesecake?"
"Is that what this is called?" he asks with a shrug. "Granny made it for you, as per Princess Snow's request."
A look flashes across Regina's face and he isn't sure if that's adoration or being touched—it doesn't matter. What matters is that she's here barely a foot away and he's there, staring at her—but why the hell is he not grabbing her and kissing her senseless?
The weight on his right hand reminds him he's brought her this cake—cheesecake, isn't it?
He places the cake on table just at his right, which holds some books he knows she's looking at for some spells, before he walks over to her, snatching her up by the waist and then pressing his lips against hers hungrily. She moans softly as his fingers tighten their hold on her and he slips his tongue in her mouth.
He's missed her. God, he's missed her so much.
He leaves his mouth long enough to trail soft, biting kisses against her neck, his nose burying against her skin to inhale her scent—that scent that drives him wild.
"Robin," she whispers in a strangled gasp as he lets his hand fall from her waist down to her ass, cupping her cheeks and kneading, loving the feel of her being so close to him after a long, long time (two days is not supposed to feel this long).
"Regina, I missed you," he whispers against her skin, marveling at the sight of the goose bumps rising everywhere.
"I missed you too," she says as she wounds her arms around her and holds on to him for dear life.
He feels her trembling in his arms, but there are no tears and no sobs that come—and that alarms him. He pulls away just a bit, even as she tightens her hold and buries her face deeper into his chase, pushes herself closer into his embrace.
"What's wrong love?" he asks with a silent plea. When she doesn't answer, he lifts her up into his arms, making her hike up her legs around his waist and her arms to wrap around his neck—her nose burying onto the crook of his neck. He sits them both down her bed. "Please tell me. I can't make it better if I don't know."
"You can't make it better." Her voice is muffled against his skin. "Not even cheesecake can make me feel better."
Robin looks at the cake forlornly, wishing there is something he could do for her. He loves her, wants so much to help her, and if he can't make her feel better then what good is he?
"At least tell me what's wrong?" he begs, pushing her away a bit so he could cup her chin and make their eyes meet. "Please?"
She heaves a sigh and then buries her nose back against his neck. She isn't normally like this…isn't normally cuddly (she likes it when they are asleep and he holds her, not that she'll ever admit, but she's never been like this—almost needy, for a lack of better word). She isn't usually so determined to cling to him, she is the opposite in fact—she's always determined to do things by herself.
"I had a dream about you," she says with a slight tremble in her voice. And he assumes the worst, she probably dreamt of him dying or something…the next words that slip out of her mouth surprises him though: "We were in Storybrooke, Maine. You know in the other land. And…" she pauses, takes a deep breath. "And our sons are there…and our daughter."
He feels the smile turn up the corner of his mouth and he could feel happiness surge through his body…she's dreamt of a future…a future with him.
"What could be so bad about that?" he asks, frowning.
She sighs angrily as she slips off of his lap…and he feels cold, empty. She looks at him with a glare.
"What's wrong with that is that I will never get to have that!" she all but yells at him. "I get a taste of that but it's a cruel joke. I'll never have that Robin."
"You mean you won't have that with me, right?" he asks her, suddenly feeling hollow but angry, disappointed…hurt. "You can't have that with me because I'm but a thief?"
"No!" she exclaims furiously. "I can't have that because I'm the Evil Queen. I don't get to have a happy ending. Villains don't get happy endings." He is about to protest that she's not a villain, she did some bad things but she's not evil...just a person cruelly treated by the world who might have mishandled some things, made mistakes. But he doesn't get to say anything because she rallies on: "I'm not worth it, Robin, not worth that much."
He doesn't believe that, can't believe that, and the thought alone that she actually does, makes his breath hitch and anger to pulse through him in waves. He grunts as he pulls her to him once more, kissing the daylights out of him, ignoring her protests and kissing her and kissing her until she melts into his arms.
She actually whimpers when he lets go of her.
But he cups her cheeks and stares right into her eyes, deep into her soul, his lips peppering soft kisses everywhere on her face.
"I need you to listen to me, and listen to me well, your Majesty," he says lightly, but his eyes boring into hers should let her know how serious he is (and it must have because her breath hitches and she starts shaking her head—he silences her with a kiss). "I love you, Regina Mills. I love you so much it's almost ridiculous. But it's not, it's beautiful. Loving you is beautiful. It's like finding a piece of me that I never even thought was missing, much less existed, until I met you. It's like having my heart broken and then you come along and glued it back together. I was so determined not to know you much less love you, because I thought, just as you do now, that you were just the Evil Queen. But my love, you have to realize that you're more than just that facet. You're Regina Mills—mother, daughter, friend, warrior, survivor, lover. Sure you were once the evil queen, but would you really let that define you? Let everyone else define you in any way? You are your own person and I love that about you. I love everything about you, even the parts that you don't like—I love them. And I will continue to love all of them, all of you enough for the both of us, until you learn to love yourself fully." He kisses away the tears that have run down her cheeks. "I love you Regina Mills. I love you, and you're more than just my happy ending, my second chance, you are my home."
He hears her breath hitch, can physically see the heartbreak in her eyes.
"Robin," she gasps out but he shushes her with a kiss.
"You don't have to say anything," he tells her gently. "You don't have to say it back yet because I know you're not ready. It's enough for me to know that you feel something in return." She nods at that. "I will keep loving you regardless, and will say I love you a million times until you're ready to say it back."
She smiles at him and pulls his head down to kiss him. She smiles into their kiss as he feels her pour all the feelings that she couldn't express through words in their kiss, and that makes his heart flutter.
He pulls away. "And as for having a family," he begins with a smile. "We don't have to, just now…but you know what they say." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, making her laugh.
"What do they say, Robin Hood?" she asks saucily with a swipe of her tongue on his lips.
He swallows. "Practice makes perfect."
She raises and eyebrow at him before he swoops down and snatches her lips in a kiss. He slips his tongue in without preamble and explores every crevice and every cavern of her mouth. He loves the way she tastes, loves the way her mouth seems to fit perfectly with his—like they are made for each other.
He backs her onto the bed, chuckling when the back of her knees hit the mattress and she topples over and she brings her with him, her hands clasping his lapels. She kisses him and he lets her roam her hands every where she pleases, undoing his buttons and unzipping and unclasping whatever constraints he has on his clothes. Her palm lands past his navel where he is rock hard and tenting his trousers.
"You know what would make me feel even better?" she asks as she coasts her hands up and down his back, her lips and teeth nipping, nibbling and kissing against his chest. He mumbles a grunting what as he drops his head on the mattress near his head. "You and some cheesecake."
He looks down at her and finds that adorable yet sexy as hell suggestive look on her face and he groans. He does love when she gets inventive like this. Standing up and shedding his clothes on his way (she does the same), he goes to retrieve the cheesecake Granny has so kindly baked for her. He could just about kiss Granny now, in retrospect, though he doesn't think that is going to go over well with his hot-tempered love.
He places the cheesecake at the bed, just right beside where she is perched naked as the day she's born. She grins at him when his stare lingers a little longer at her breasts, his nose flaring and breath hitching.
He dives in to kiss her, making her giggle—which is replaced quickly by a moan when he cups her breasts in his hands, flicking his thumb lightly over and over against her nipple. He leans down to capture one rosy bud in his mouth, suckling roughly just the way she likes, making her whimper.
"You're so goddamn sexy my love," he whispers against her skin as he lifts his head. He frees his hand momentarily to swipe at the cake and smear what he supposes is a cheese mixture of some sort onto her breasts. Without a word, he ducks his head down and suckles, cleaning up the cheesy mixture off of her skin, nipping and kissing, sucking and nibbling all the way. When he'd cleaned her up the best he could, he lifts his head and gives her a grin. "Delicious."
He then proceeds to smear more of that cheesecake on her skin, down her stomach, a but past her navel, his tongue following soon after, clearing the path off the delicious treat. It is rather delicious, he thinks, and is even better with some Regina in it.
He lets his hands coast down the length of her thigh, going down immediately to her core where she is hot and wet, and he lets his fingers run up and down her slit, before he leans down and lets his tongue play with her hardened bundle of nerves. She lets out a moan of surprise, her hips bucking into him, and he holds onto her hips to keep her steady. He doesn't let up, not even when her fingers grasp his hair and tug. He flicks his tongue over and over again at her clit, the taste of the sweet confection mixing with the wonderful taste of her, and he moans. The vibrations make her buck her hips again, and he chuckles against her sex.
"Robin," she murmurs, sounding hoarse and husky, and so goddamned sexy.
She's close, he knows it, can feel it through the pulsing of her muscles against his fingers from where it is lodged deep inside her, pumping, pumping, thrusting in and out, his tongue relentlessly lapping at her until she's orgasming, his name falling from her lips in a strangled scream. He pumps his fingers in and out of her for a while and lets her ride out her orgasm as he crawls up her body and kisses her lips.
"I love you," he whispers against her lips and she smiles against their kiss.
When she's come down from her high, she pushes at his shoulders making him lie back.
"Two can play this game," she says, proceeding to swipe at the now ruined cheesecake and smear the cheese—cream mixture all over his hardened, and painfully erect cock. She swoops down and swallows him without preamble, sucking him deep in her throat, making him groan and moan, head thrashing against the pillow. His hand fists against her hair, and she goes to pull him deeper into her throat.
Watching her bob her head up and down and the feeling of her mouth on him is his undoing, and he will, come, jesus, he will come this way if she doesn't stop.
"Stop, baby, please," he pleads, pulling at her hair slightly to make her stop.
She lets him go with a pop, her lips turning up into a smug smirk.
Instead of dignifying that smug smirk with a response, he pulls her to him and turns her on her side. Angling her legs so that all of her is bared to him, he slips inside and starts pounding, pounding and just pounding into her until he feels her spasming, her muscles clenching nearly bringing him into climax, himself. But he holds on, holds off coming, in favor of fucking her more, deeper, harder, making her come once more on his cock.
He changes angles, flips her so she's on all fours and his hands fists against her hair, pulling roughly enough that has her moaning loudly, gasping out a breathy more. He pounds into her, the healthy sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, until they both erupt, together, each calling the other's name huskily.
He collapses on top of her as she still lay on her back, and kisses along her spine. He pulls himself up and she rolls on her back, sighing dreamily. He smiles and makes himself go check on his son who he knows must be in the room next to Regina's (and God since when did that become trek?). He comes back to her bedchamber once he's made sure that Roland is safe and sound and in bed and the slips in the sheets, pulling her to him and holding her close.
"I love you," he whispers against her skin as he ghosts kisses on her shoulder before he lets sleep claim him.
That night, as she sleeps in his arms, Regina Mills sleeps restfully.
A/N: i almost didn't go through with this chapter, because of obvious reasons, and that's the reason for the delay. But I had to just go through with it and just let it be. I am going mostly with the canon telling of the story and have thought of this LONG before 5x08. Im sorry if this might upset some of you but I see no other way around it. Sorry if I refuse to follow a different storyline than the cannon. So sorry. I hope you all don't hate me.
Also, sorry for ruining cheesecake for you. kinda regret it considering it's my fave.
shoutout to my Panini, Shan, sorry love! hahaha
thoughts would be welcomed. I'd love to hear suggestions of when and where and how they could get it on. or games they could play which was the whole damn point of the whole damn story. Right.