It's hard to believe this time has come. Tomorrow he writes his last exam, then he's done his first year, survived 1L. It's surreal and incredible.
The last few weeks have flown by, something he was not expecting from time spent studying, but they had their ways to make it fun. He spent far more time with Regina than he thought he would, given their different study methods (hers a singular focus he envies) and their very different sleep schedules, but they made it work.
While he used to prefer studying late into the night, a necessity because of his later wake up, she prefers an early start, is somehow able to get up and get right to working when it takes Robin at least a solid hour to even think about studying.
He attempted her schedule though, on account of wanting to finish with her (in all ways), and to his surprise, he found he was actually most productive in those hours he used to sleep away.
He spends most of his nights at Regina's, but he makes sure to spend at least two nights at his place, for practical reasons: he really should pack and because he wants to see John as much as possible in the time left. He feels rather bad about how he's up and left John, but it's not like they really saw that much of each other during the first exam period, when Robin holed himself up at the library and only came home to sleep. Still, he's leaving in four days (how the hell did that happen?) and he's going to miss his friend a lot.
He's trying to balance seeing everyone in his last three days, once they are free and clear from exams so he can say his goodbyes, but it's hard. On top of all of that, he needs to pack, since his progress on that has been abysmal and most importantly, he needs to tell Regina how he feels about her.
He had it all planned out, was going to ask her to come with him for a little date on Saturday, thinking (wrongly) that the celebrations would be done on Friday night. Then Jefferson announced his afternoon kegger and barbeque on the Saturday and that ruined that plan. All of their friends are going on Saturday so they can't not go, and he knows Friday will be filled with celebratory drinks and naps or going to bed early, so it's also not the right time. That left him with Sunday morning, because while his flight leaves Monday in the late afternoon, he's blocked off that time for John, who graciously offered to drive him to the airport.
If he can find a moment, he'll tell her on Saturday, but if not, on Sunday, he'll make her breakfast or something—he's confident he'll end up there as a drunk Regina is a horny Regina, and he loves that about her. He'll do something for her, try his best to make it special when he tells her that he loves her. He's nervous about it, but the moment, he's realizing, is less important than actually getting the words out there.
If they had more time he'd make them a perfect moment, but he's gone in four days so he'll work with what he has.
This time tomorrow he'll be a free man, high on life and celebrating surviving exams. Then sometime this weekend he's going to finally tell Regina Mills how much he loves her, will finally end this pretense of casual.
Nothing is going to stop him.
Their last exam is today. Today. In five short hours she'll be finished her first year. It almost feels like this can't be real, but she knows that it is.
She didn't expect to wake up so giddy, she's a nervous as hell exam taker, her anxiety feeding off of the tense atmosphere and spiralling out.
Robin no longer spends the night before an exam with her, and she can't say she blames him. She's always an absolute wreck in the morning, a nightmare to deal with, and she knows it.
She warned him the first time, but he'd thought she couldn't be that bad, but sure enough she was stressing him out with her anxious ramblings, and come their next exam he'd been tiptoeing around it and she put him out of his misery by suggesting he spend the night at his place.
That's why it's so shocking how light she feels right now. She's a bit nervous, but her stomach isn't churning, and she might actually be able to do more than just choke down a banana this morning.
Maybe it's because it's their last exam, or maybe it's because it's contracts and she aced it last semester. She's not sure, but whatever it is, she's grateful for it.
She's prepared, she's ready for this, it's going to be a good one.
Two hours later when she opens the exam she is eating her words. She thought she was prepared, but as she looks at the first question she realizes how utterly fucked she is. There are far too many issues involved in just this first question to give a decent answer in the three hours, and there are two more questions after it.
The suggested time allocation for question one is an hour and a half. But when she hits the two hour mark and is still writing for that question, she panics. It's no longer about good answers, it's about getting shit on the page, hitting as many points as she can to salvage her grade.
The last hour of frantic writing is a blur and in the end she writes the world's worst conclusion to a question she's barely answered. She feels defeated, wants to go home and cry her eyes out over how awful she just did, but they have a celebratory lunch planned so she plasters a smile on her face and vows to put it out of her mind.
She doesn't quite succeed, can't when her classmates are hashing out the answers. She starts to feel a bit better as she hears how many people didn't even start question three.
It's Robin though that provides her with some real comfort, using her own bad habit against her and reminding her she'll still get an eighty in the class even if she got a sixty-eight on the exam, which she can tell from his expression and tone he doubts is going to happen.
She's not so sure, thinks she really may have failed it, and how embarrassing of a fall from the top would that be? But as she starts her second drink and they all toast to being free, she tries to push it from her mind.
She already has one imminent heartbreak coming, might as well not tear herself to pieces over this exam.
She's only got tonight and one more day with Robin, then she's setting him free. Though it pains her just to think of it, she'll make it clear they won't be starting back up in the fall, can't give herself that branch to hold onto as she tries to get over him. She needs to cut the cord, cannot keep doing this.
Regina is drunk, drunker than he's ever seen her, is much like that night she called him after getting her job, is super giggly, and is "whispering" to him in a way that is not subtle at all. She's so cute and he can't help but laugh when she looks blearily at him and slurs that she needs her bed.
She tries to turn it into an innuendo but the yawn that interrupts it ruins the effect.
God she's cute, so adorable, he's hit with a rush of affection for her as she covers her mouth and giggles again.
She was at one point on the arm of the chair he's occupying, but she slid down half on his lap as the night went on. He almost doesn't want to leave this chair, he's so comfortable, and this is exactly how he wanted to celebrate being done with law school: drinking with friends and trading stories (the night got a lot better once they placed a moratorium on shop talk) with the woman he loves in his arms.
The only way it could get better is with what she's proposing, but he doubts she's actually up for the sex she's suggesting.
She's tired, all that alcohol has worn her down. She drank off that dark cloud that was hanging after her post-exam during their lunch, riding a nice midday buzz. She barely had dinner, only had one slice of the pizza they'd order, had been too busy chatting with her girlfriends and topping off her wine.
She may be tired but he's remarkably awake, is jazzed and high on life right now. He'd be staying here for a long time if she were still up for it, but she's not and he's going to ensure she gets home okay.
He doubts he'll be able to fall asleep with how he's feeling right now but his first priority is being with her and making sure she's okay. He's little concerned he won't be able to keep those words to himself with how she is tonight. They've been on the tip of his tongue all day, since the moment she came out of that exam looking defeated and immediately reached for him. He loves that he's that person for her, as she is for him.
He loves her so damn much, and the thought of their imminent separation is crushing. He's going to miss her so much, she's been his rock throughout this. He wants to date her, take her out, do all the things they didn't when they were trying to pretend they weren't together and fooled absolutely no one.
They don't have time for that though, for any of that, he waited too long and now all he can do is keep the words inside until the right moment and finally, finally be with her for real.
She tries to rise from his lap but the attempt is unsuccessful and she crashes back into him with a flood of giggles as he oofs on impact, her elbows thankfully tucked in so no damage is done.
She tries for a second time to get herself out of the chair. This time almost falling forward into the coffee table and his heart races as he stands quickly, managing to grab her around the waist and haul her torso up before disaster strikes.
"Whoops," she squeals, turning around in his arms so she's facing him. "My saviour," she breathes, beaming up at him. Then she kisses him, wet, sloppy and god is she ever drunk. He really should have ensured she got more food in her.
He shakes his head at her again when she misses his mouth going in for another peck, her lips landing just beside his chin.
"Let's get you home," he suggests, and she smiles impishly.
"Yeahhh, do tha', take me home," she winks at him, in a way he knows she meant to be sexy but is far too fucking adorable to achieve that.
The whole cab ride to her place has her babbling inappropriate sentiments between yawns (at the level the driver can hear but is steadfastly ignoring, earning himself a great tip).
It takes not even ten minutes to get to Regina's, but by the time they arrive she is half asleep—they'd normally walk it, but this was not the time to economize. As he pulls away from her to open the door, she lets out this soft grunt in protest and he chuckles.
"Come on, love. We're home."
She slides out toward him, eyelids drooping and he scoops her into his arms. She grabs around his neck but rather loosely, is almost limp in his arms. He needs to get her to bed.
He manages to unlock the door with her still in his arms, but the stairs give him pause, that and the need to get some water and food into her.
"Darling, do you think you can manage the stairs?" She nods, so he sets her down and watches as she staggers, he thinks it's more from sleep than anything because she straightens out, but he still follows behind her on the staircase just in case, ends up following her to bed, watching as she strips everything off and climbs in.
"I'm going to go get you some stuff," he tells her, urging, "Don't fall asleep yet."
He leaves the light on, and makes his way down into the kitchen, fetching the bottle of Advil from the cupboard as he toasts a piece of bread and fills a large glass with water.
He doesn't remember her drinking all that much, and it was all red wine, she didn't mix, so hopefully her hangover won't be too bad—though whenever he drinks too much red wine he gets a bitch of headache, but she drinks it more often than he does so is hopefully immune to that.
He's quick getting what he needs, can't have been more than three minutes in all, but the sight that greets him both makes him smile and his heart pinch.
She's asleep, on her side, she's on the far side of the closer pillow with her face toward him, breathing softly, covers pulled up and clenched in her hand.
He doesn't want to wake her, she looks far too cozy, but he knows she'll feel a hell of a lot better if they do something to fend off this hangover. Gatorade would be better than water, but she's not someone who keeps hangover cures on hand, or stocks up on them like he and John did. He should have thought to bring some over, will do that tomorrow as he has no doubt they'll both end up here and at least one of them will be in need of it.
He sits and sags down on the bed beside her, as gently as he can, and she stirs at the movement, but doesn't rouse.
He tells her softly, as his hand runs over her top arm, "Darling, I need you to wake up for a second."
She groans in protest and her eyes don't even open, until he rubs his thumb over her cheek.
"Mmm, w-what?"
"You need to take this and drink this," he gestures to the Advil and glass of water. "And ideally eat the toast."
She's groaning again as she starts to sit up. "All?"
He nods and she makes this face, like she is going to challenge him on it, but then decides not to. She reaches for the plate, but his presence makes it impossible, so he passes it to her, swapping it for the glass and Advil when she finishes. She grimaces at the full glass, but he reminds her that it's good for her.
It takes her a minute but she downs the whole glass after she takes the Advil. He leaves the bottle on the nightstand for the morning, and heads to the bathroom to refill her glass.
When he comes back with it she's already out again, so he sets it on the nightstand, gives her hair a soft stroke, pushing it out of her eyes as he whispers, "I love you," and presses a kiss to her forehead before heading back to the party.
She makes it to Saturday's party late, had not been happy when she woke up and felt like shit, but after a shower, more Advil, some Gravol and greasy hangover food (McDonald's, not something she ever orders but this was a desperate situation), she began to feel better. After she took a nap, she felt even better, normal actually, happy and not at all hungover.
So she doesn't mind at all that she slept through part of the celebration, it started at one and it's only two-thirty now, so she can't have missed much.
She is not letting herself think about what comes next, what comes tomorrow. Tonight is for celebrating, for enjoying this last night with Robin before she does what she should have when she first realized what she felt for him. She could have broken it off before all the obstacles fell in their paths but she chose not to, was too weak to do what was necessary. Now it's even worse, she's in even deeper, is going to ache over this, will not be able to easily shrug it off or get over it. She tried to get over Robin, she couldn't, doesn't know how she'll be able to do so after tomorrow, but she has to.
She knows the pain that's to come, but she will not waste this last day bracing herself for it, she won't. She only gets one more day with Robin, and she is going to make the most of it.
She's not going to drink too much, this won't be like last night, she needs to be of sound mind, needs to savour and commit every moment with Robin to memory, precious pieces she can hold onto to get through the long, lonely nights that are coming.
She's not going to admit to him what happened to her, that she fell, it's probably obvious to him, is why he yelled at her that they weren't together, why he froze at that I love you and can't wait to get out of here. He's too nice to let her go, to break her heart with the truth they both know. So he humours her, and that stops tomorrow.
Tonight she's going to enjoy it, then tomorrow she's letting him go, doing what she should have ages ago.
She brought her own wine and a bottle for Jefferson, the host of this bonfire barbeque party, and drops twenty dollars into his little collection bowl. She doesn't really plan on eating, doesn't particularly want a drunk guy cooking some meat for her, but she appreciates the effort and wants him well compensated.
There's a variety of snacks and liquor set up on the table and an array of salads that takes her aback, a caesar, a garden and a tortellini that looks divine (and will definitely keep for later because the base is a pesto sauce). The next table over is the burger supplies, full of fixings but what ends up surprising her the most, is when Jefferson asks her what she'd like, rattling off: "Burger, chicken burger, hotdog, sausage, veggie burger." She's impressed, tells him so and she thinks he blushes at the compliment, something she would tease him for (good naturedly, of course), but then she spies Robin.
He's laughing with John, all carefree and open, the way she loves him. He's got a cup of beer in hand and is taking advantage of the weather in khaki shorts and a blue t-shirt that shows off those arms. God, his arms, his strength, his everything. She wants him, is half tempted to drag him off to the bathroom and have her way with him, but they've done that before and she also takes a certain enjoyment from letting the anticipation stew, from spending a whole day wanting him then finally letting it all flare out and taking him.
She will have him, over and over, but later. For now, she'll admire, will go over and say hi to him and John and kick off this last night together.
Robin's face splits into a wide grin when he sees her and it makes her heart clench, has her wanting to say things to him, stupid things like how she can't bear to let him go, that she's fallen for him, that he matters so much to her, all those things she'll never say, the thing would just make this harder, the words that are better left unsaid, for both of their sakes.
Instead of blurting out those stupid things, she accepts a bear hug from John, a man she never expected she'd grow so close to. Their friendship grew out of something awful, and she hopes it will survive the end of her and Robin, that it's not yet another thing she loses when she shatters the illusion tomorrow.
Then she turns to Robin, accepts his friendly hug, reading far too much into how well she fits in his arms, how comfortable this is. It makes her want to abandon her plan, but she can't do that, she won't do that.
It's for him after all.
When Robin arrived and he took in the scene, he thought perhaps tonight would be the night. It had been more intimate earlier, a small group of good friends all out in this lovely and spacious backyard with the warm sunlight beaming down on them.
But as the afternoon went on more and more people arrived, and well, he'd gotten a bit buzzed (it is a kegger after all), and this is not something he is going to do without a clear head. He will not give her any reason to doubt his intentions this time. He will be stone cold sober, will not blurt it out in the middle of sex—though that one will be hard given how much he's itching to tell her right here right now. He'll keep it in, just for one more day, then he'll tell her, will finally be honest about his feelings for her, something he's waited far too long to do and isn't about to screw up.
He's going to be careful with his booze, is drinking beer rather than any of the harder stuff, intent on riding a buzz all day so he can fully appreciate being with her later. There's another reason for it, he doesn't want the first time he says he loves her to be clouded by a hangover, and he's brought the essentials in his backpack to ensure that doesn't happen for either of them.
He's ready, more than ready, only has to rein it in for one more day, then he's good.
Like him, she's embraced the weather, looks stunning in her small strapped floral tight dress that makes her boobs look fantastic. She's paired it with a light sweater, one he can't wait to peel off of her later. He doesn't think he'd be able to fuck her in this dress, but god does he ever want to try.
She's gone casual, her hair up in this ponytail thing that's sexy as hell. Perhaps it's because she usually puts her hair up (much less neatly) to suck him off, but he thinks it's more than that, that this is all put together intentionally to knock his socks off, and it worked.
He tells her she looks beautiful and the roving gaze of his body as she compliments him while squeezing at his arm makes him feel like a million bucks, has him leaning to whisper some of his more salacious thoughts when John coughs beside them.
Right, right, John is here, and they shouldn't be rude and ignore him. Robin tends to forget everything when he sees Regina, is always struck by her presence, finds himself losing all thoughts other than how stunning she is, and how lucky he is to know her so well, to be able to be with her, to love her.
He's mad for her in a way he hasn't been before. Perhaps it's because they haven't been together together, all that denial of feelings, that makes him this way. But maybe it's something more, maybe it's her, maybe it's something that won't go away with time.
John just laughs at them, then draws Regina in with a spirited tale of Merry's escapades that morning. That cat's something else, yet another thing he's going to miss when he's gone.
It's odd to be so torn, he almost doesn't want to go home, except that he does, he needs to see his mum, wishes they still lived here, that he could have everything and everyone all together, but that's not his life and he doesn't know how to manage it.
He stays with Regina and John for most of the party, flitting in and out of conversations with others, but staying together until it starts to get dark. That's when John decides it's time to get really drunk, something Robin isn't joining in with, so John abandons them for the games table.
He barely gets a free moment with only Regina, manages to tell her yet again how absolutely breathtaking she is, and gets in one measly peck to her lips before Mal interrupts them, loud as anything, yelling at them to get a room.
Mal is drunk. Not the drunkest he's seen her, but she's quite far gone, had spent most of the afternoon over at the games table, so it isn't shocking, but he can tell it concerns Regina. He doesn't know whether she's right in her concern, whether Mal has a problem or not, and it's not his place to get involved.
He hopes that Mal ends up happy and healthy, that she is that already and if she's not, that she gets the help she needs. He does worry about her, though not nearly to the same extent as Regina. Mal's his friend, they've become close because of Regina, and he wants the best for her, just doesn't know what that is.
When Mal says she's going to ditch out early, he's relieved. It's selfish, but he's happy to see her go in this way, so Regina won't be distracted worrying about her.
They walk her out and wait for her Uber with her. Mal eye-rolls when Regina asks that she text them when she gets home, but twenty minutes later Regina gets a text, and he sees the weight it takes off of her.
They meander around the party together, chatting up the people they had yet to see. He's got an arm on her back and she's leaning into him as they mingle, and he can't help the smile plastered across his face from the causal intimacy of it.
Then Seven Years comes on and there's a couple of people dancing so he drags her onto the dancefloor, her laughing and protesting even as he twirls her around, but her eyes tell a different story, are twinkling with her amusement. As he spins her around in the low light of dusk, the haze of the setting sun and the flicker of the fire the only thing illuminating the scene, he thinks maybe this is the moment. Then they come to a sway, eyes locked on each other and he feels the words on the tip of his tongue. Wants to pause the music and shout from the rooftop just how much he loves Regina Mills. But just as he's about to profess his feelings, a slight breeze makes her shiver, and she burrows into his chest, her eyes leaving his.
The lack of eye contact breaks the moment, and as the song winds down he decides they should get home, it's really starting to cool down now that the sun is setting. She isn't the only one feeling it, he dressed for the weather as it was earlier, not a spring evening spent outdoors.
"Do you want to get out of here, love?" he whispers into her hair, taking in the scent of that apple and coconut shampoo. It's an aroma that is so uniquely her, that he thinks will forever bring his mind to memories like this, makes him melt.
"Mm," she sighs, but makes no effort to move from his arms despite her agreement that that's a good idea.
When she suggests one more dance he's happy to oblige, they trade a soft peck as the song changes and he wriggles his brows at her when Despacito comes on. She smiles back impishly, teases him with a, "can you handle it?" then proceeds to move against him in ways that are downright criminal as he realizes that no, actually, he can't. This is his last night with her, and he needs to be with her, to feel her, again and again.
He takes advantage of the low lighting, nibbles at her neck when she shimmies her incredible ass against him and she arches on contact, moaning softly in a way that has his anticipation ramping up.
He needs to be careful here, she's so damn hot, and is moving against him, her sensual hips rocking, and he cannot get too involved in this, does not want to be sporting an obvious problem in these shorts as they say goodbye to their friends. And so he leads her away from him, into less of a grind and more of dance, encouraging her to show off her skill, and boy does she ever.
He knows that she danced for a long time, she told him as much, and he saw a glimpse of it at formal, but the moves she's showcasing now are incredible. She's somehow managing to keep him involved as she moves about the dancefloor gracefully with a skill level he does not possess—he's really more of a prop than anything.
She's breathless as the song ends, eyes wide and shining as she beams at him and he's not sure she's ever looked more beautiful. He's got it bad for her, cannot wait to tell her just how much, that he's all in.
He is, he's all in, head over heels for her, he wants to spend every day with her, wants to wake up with her in his arms, freely tell her he loves her and hear those three words back. That last part he may not get any time soon, but that's okay. He's there, and she doesn't have to be. He thinks that she might be, but with all of the avoidance of feelings and never speaking about how they actually feel it's hard to tell.
It doesn't matter to him what she feels, just that she knows how he does, and reciprocates some level of feelings, is willing to go long distance with him.
"Take me home, Robin," she whispers, then steps away, keeping her one hand in his and leading him away.
They do their goodbyes, it takes a while, they linger a bit and he gets many well wishes and I'll really miss yous that warm his heart. He can't believe he ever thought of leaving this. Yes, it has its moments, is full of stresses, but he's also met so many great people, made some forever friends, and fell in love with a brilliant woman.
His life went to shit this year, but he had so many people in his corner, experienced a level of support and goodwill he couldn't have fathomed before experiencing it.
He has to say goodbye to see his mum again, which he needs, but he will be back again, and that is what keeps the goodbyes from being too bittersweet. He doesn't let it kill the mood, and when they make their way out of the backyard, he turns to Regina and asks, "How about a walk in the moonlight?"
Her tongue peeks out between her lips as her smile grows and she's nodding. He wasn't sure if she'd rather take a cab, given her shivers earlier, but he's happy she wants to walk with him.
It's a beautiful night. Romantic as hell, and he thinks maybe this is the moment. It is nippy out, and he lets her lead him into a brisk walk. They pass the time flirting and making innuendos, one of hers so luscious she ends up pressed up against the wall so he can kiss her breathless.
It's the last time they get this for a long time. Four whole months if they can't connect sometime before school starts, which is unlikely given her start and end dates at work.
They are coming up on quite the drought, and he's determined to stock up as many memories as possible to get him through the time apart.
He cannot wait for them to get back to her place, to be able to strip her down and feast on all of that skin. He needs to have her, and soon.
He almost regrets the walk, but he wouldn't have it any other way, this time spent anticipating each other will make it better when they do come together, and it's not as if they have much farther to go, just have to pass campus, then it's about eight more minutes to her place.
When she whispers to him how she cannot wait to get him home, strip him down and take him in her mouth, that simmer of arousal boils over. She can't say things like that, not here, not when he can't take her right here right now.
Or what if he could…
He looks toward the doors of the law school and imagines for a moment, bending her over a desk, having his way with her in a classroom, and oh fuck.
He doesn't know that they'll ever have the chance, but he's going to seek it out, and in fact, "Why don't we see if we can break in here and have some fun, love?"
He can pick a lock like the best of them, not that that would really do him much good with these automatically locking doors. His only hope is that they didn't reset the system. The building has been open twenty four hours a day for the duration of exams, but yesterday was the last day.
She smirks, "We are not doing that."
"Why not? Would be fun."
She shakes her head, but she's smiling. "Because if we got caught, I'd have to set myself on fire."
If that's the only reason… "It's eight thirty on a Saturday at the end of the exam period."
"We won't be able to get in."
She's probably right but, "We'll only know if we give it a try."
He expects her to say no and that's fine, but then she grins wolfishly and grabs his hand, running toward the door.
The main door doesn't open, but he takes her over to the side door, that one that often doesn't close properly, and what do you know? It's not fully closed.
He looks at her as he grabs it and holds it open, offers her an out, but thank christ, she doesn't take it, just giggles and remarks, "I can't believe we're going to do this."
He admits, "Me neither," and they both snicker as they make their way into the building, checking around to see if any cleaning staff are around.
They see no one and duck into the nearest classroom, the automatic lights flickering on as they enter.
They both giggle as they scurry over to the back corner (so they aren't visible through the door) which conveniently is the biggest desk, the one for the professor to spread out all of their work. But that's not what's getting spread here tonight.
In one fell swoop he pulls Regina in for a kiss, his hands coming to her hips and hoisting her up as he pushes her onto the desk.
Fuck, she looks so hot perched on this desk waiting for him to have his way with her, and is he ever going to.
His lips meet hers for another heated kiss, as both their hands roam each other's bodies, finally able to touch freely. He releases her hair, fists it in his hands before moving down her body. She arches into his touch, moans into his mouth as he grasps her breasts through her dress, it's hot, has him wanting to take her already. He will, but first…
He pulls apart from her lips, kisses down to her jaw, finds that sensitive spot at the hinge of it and relishes in the gasps his soft suck draws from her. Then he goes for the spot on her neck, and the one behind her ear, delighting in the sounds of her getting more and more riled up. He wants this dress off, wants to suck on her tits and make her cry out from that too, but he's not stupid enough to suggest she completely undress.
While he's fairly certain they are alone, their search wasn't thorough at all, and he can't help but think stripping naked is asking for trouble.
It makes this all the more erotic, that sense that they could get caught, that he needs to hurry up and bring her up and over before someone sees them.
They shouldn't be doing this, definitely shouldn't be doing this here, but as Robin kneels down, his hands coming up between her thighs, the feel of them on her sensitive skin making her shiver, and she doesn't stop him, wouldn't want to. She only has these precious few last hours to be with him. She's going to make the most of them, is going to get fucked in a goddamn classroom.
He slips down her thong, inch by inch in this slow sensual manner that has her panting. He smirks as he pockets it, then his hands are back on her thighs, squeezing, and the anticipation makes her throb.
She's about to have sex in their law school. This is crazy, this can't really be happening.
But it is, and Robin is licking his lips and oh god kissing up her thighs.
Her dress is in the way, something he realizes as he gets closer to his target. It has ridden up a lot, is pushed way up her hips, but not enough to do what he's about to, what she needs him to do.
She pulls it up farther, tries to shimmy, and ends up stepping off of the desk for a second to maneuver it. It doesn't do what she wants, it's too tight across so she turns and gets Robin to undo the zipper. He doesn't undo it all the way, just does it enough so he can move the dress up and bare her sex to him, it seems he wants it on, and she is not complaining about that.
She props herself back up on the desk, squirming as he kisses up her thighs again, already wet and needy.
Her hips twitch as he licks the join of her thigh, pushing it to the side and spreading her wider for him in a way that makes her breath catch.
This is so fucking hot, and as she looks down at him inching closer and closer to her clit, she nearly loses her mind from the eroticism of it all.
Then his lips cover her clit and she moans, loudly, so loud that she brings a hand up to cover her own mouth. Her next moan is muffled into it as Robin does something deliciously teasing with his tongue and oh god, oh god.
But Robin, it seems, isn't happy. He pulls away to frown at her, and she's hit with another punch of lust as she takes in his dishevelled look.
"What?" she breathes, surprised by how gaspy she is already. God, it is really getting to her, being here. She didn't realize it would, had agreed because it's not like she'll ever get the chance again, will never be able to do this again, is on the last legs of her time with Robin and needs to take advantage of every single opportunity.
"Don't do that," he says, and she looks down at him puzzled, he answers her silent do what? with a, "Don't muffle yourself, I want to hear you."
And oh, oh, well that she can do. She nods, swallowing heavily as he returns to his task. Her hand finds its way into his hair as his tongue trails lightly down her, pushing him closer and relishing as he fucks her with his tongue.
They shouldn't be doing this, should be rushing to the main event to ensure they don't get caught, but it feels so damn good.
Then Robin's tongue moves back up, swirls over her clit, and Oh fuck, yes.
He sucks at her and she's writhing, her hand pushing in harder toward her as she winds up. It's not going to take much more, she's close now, so close this is perfect, god, Robin knows her body so well, is doing exactly what she needs, holy fuck…
Then Robin stops, asks, "What if I just left you here, right on the edge? Make you stew in it the whole walk home?" as she gasps and eyes him dumbly, her mind reeling from the sudden slow down. She gasps fraught at the thought of stopping now, of not getting off here, before her mind catches up and assures her. He won't do that, he wants this too much, he's not going to pass up the chance to fuck her here. She knows better.
"Then you've lost out on your chance to fuck me in a law school classroom."
"We can't have that, can we?" he teases, and she agrees with a vehement shake of her head.
Why are they still talking? Why isn't he doing better things with that tongue than waggling it?
He slides up instead, claims her lips for a fierce kiss and she tastes herself on his lips, then on his tongue, and it thrills her. His one hand is buried in her hair (she'd lost her ponytail to their first makeout session) while his other fiddles with his shorts. He manages to undo his fly and then he pulls away for a second, pushing them and his boxers down.
There he is, hard and ready for her, about to fuck her in a classroom. God, if she ever has a class in this room how will she ever think of anything but this?
His mouth is on hers again, and she reaches her hand down to give him a stroke, pleased by the strangled moan he lets out. He is hard and hot in her hand, and it thrills her, this proof of how much he wants her.
He is ready, and so is she, so what are they waiting for?
She wraps her legs around his hips, attempts to pull him in, and he sighs, "Mmm, god, love, wanted to bend you over the desk…"
Heat flashes through her at the image, and as much as she wants to keep their lips pressed together, to keep kissing him until the well runs dry, she wants that more. They can have a round where they kiss and kiss and he swallows her moans while she comes back at her place.
Here and now, he can fuck her roughly from behind, bent over a professor's desk.
She steals one last kiss, then turns, bending over for him and shimmying her ass in his general direction. He groans, and his one hand fists her hip as the other guides himself against her, then inside her.
They both moan as he slowly sinks in. He takes his time, taking a second when he's fully inside her to breathe a, "Fuck, love, god you feel… amazing," before drawing out at that same slow pace.
"Is this okay?" he asks and she nods, then pants, Fuck yes. It's more than okay, feels good, but she wants more, wants fantastic, wants to feel him railing on her, wants to hear the bump of the desk as he slams into her.
He speeds up then, not going fast yet, still giving her time to adjust.
It takes a bit of shifting, but after a moment she finds the good spot, throws her head back as he hits her perfectly, driving her up again with each and every thrust. He's knocking right against her g-spot with a firm pressure that makes her gasp and moan.
He has both hands on her hips now, squeezing at her in a way that is so hot as he thrusts in and out of her, and god.
"Fuck, Robin, I, so good."
"Christ darling, you are so wet right now, feel, mmm, like a fucking dream."
Her breath stutters out as his one hand leaves her hip to brush over her clit and oh god, oh god. How the fuck is she supposed to give this up?
The reminder of how little time they have left doesn't smack her with pain for once, instead drives her higher, has her panting, "Yessss, oh fuck, oh my god. Don't stop, oh fuck, don't stop."
"I won't," he promises, speeding up a bit, so he's thrusting into her hard and fast just like she wanted. It makes everything inside of her go molten, her thighs liquid and trembling, high moans falling from her mouth as she feels herself tightening, feels the coil of orgasm winding tight inside her.
This is perfect, god, he's so damn good at this. The pleasure is unreal and scorching. She shouldn't be spilling over so soon, should hold off while she still has him, but she cannot resist the pull, cannot resist his skill.
Orgasm pulls her under, swamps her with pleasure as her belly seizes and she cries out wordlessly, high pitched and broken sounds falling from her lips as her mind goes blank, the intense and hot sensation taking over as it rolls through her. God, this is amazing, holy christ, and he's thrusting through it, still flicking over her clit but with less pressure now, keeping her up without pushing her into oversensitivity.
That does come though, and his hand leaves her, goes back to her hip, then he's fucking her even harder, fast and rough in the best of ways as wild groans flow from his mouth.
"Uh, oh god, fuck, I'm close."
She clenches on him, making him groan, and urges, "Come for me, Robin."
It takes another moment, a few more deep thrusts, but then he's spilling into her, those hands gripping her hips so tightly she thinks she might bruise, end up with imprints of his fingers marring her skin, a reminder of this hot encounter. He finishes with a broken declaration of how good it feels, as his hips roll against hers, then slumps against her, his breath against her scalp making her shiver.
"Mmm, I'll move in a minute," he assures, and she tells him to take all the time he needs.
He doesn't take much, and soon he's pulling out of her, and when she turns back to him he's passing her a box of Kleenex to clean up, something she very much appreciates considering Robin has yet to give her her underwear back, not that they'd be able to help at all.
She'd picked out lingerie for the evening, but the shape of it didn't go with her dress so she'd forgone a bra and worn that tiny and not at all comfortable thong, something she's glad for now that Robin seems to have claimed it as his own.
She can get them back later. For now, she adjusts her dress, discards the tissues and grabs his hand, sneaking out of the classroom to continue on to her place so they can start all over again.
What a night it's been, she doesn't think she's ever had that much sex in her life, but she'd been insatiable for him, unable to get enough, the threat of the upcoming cut off making her need him even more. She'd taken him, over and over in every way, and it still hadn't been enough. It will never be enough, she doesn't get enough Robin Locksley. She is not worthy of a man like him, of a happiness like she imagines they could have. It's not in the cards for her, it never was.
That didn't stop her from grabbing for him again and again, from kissing him, holding him, entangling herself in him. She wanted him close, closer, wanted to be in his heart, his head, his arms, until she melted into him and there was no way to know he ended and she began. She kissed and touched and clung, the cuddling that followed just as, if not more, important to her than all of the sex.
She knew that it had to end, that they needed a break, needed sleep, but she kept pushing for more, ignoring the protests of her body as she tried to fill the hole in her chest.
But eventually, sleep had pulled them under, and she'd woken up in the wee hours of the morning still tangled in him. She doesn't know why she woke, but her shifting had woken him as well, and he'd sleepily pulled her back in, softly kissing her neck in a way that made it clear what he wanted.
They'd both been half asleep, and it had been languid and lazy, somehow still incredible even though they were barely moving. It was intimate and real and all the things she cannot have, but desperately wants to. She felt more connected to him then, half asleep, than she has with anyone.
He'd whispered words of affection into her skin and she'd choked on the intensity of her feelings, her eyes welling with tears she was glad he couldn't see.
It's cruel that she doesn't get any more of it, that she has to be teased by those wonderful moments she doesn't get to have for real.
All she gets is sex.
Great sex, incredible, mind blowing, out of this world sex, but it's not enough. It could never be enough, not with Robin.
She cares about him so damn much, it's absurd. She can't believe she let this happen. As much as this hurts, it's the only way. She has to do this. Has to do it soon, now, before she succumbs to him again.
But he's only just waking, and she's tucked in his arms, enjoying the security of his embrace. And she isn't ready yet.
So when he stirs, she turns to give him one last kiss, but one becomes two, and though she's sore from a night well spent, as soon as he's hard, she's guiding him inside her, is losing herself to the hot kisses and soft words that do not mean what she wants them to.
This is it, this is the last time. She nearly cries when it's over, when he pulls out of her and stops giving her those languid kisses that make her middle go weak.
The thought of what comes next is devastating. She doesn't want to, actually aches from the thought of it, but she has to.
This is it.
It's time.
That was incredible, she's incredible, and has there ever been a better morning?
Robin's still all blissed out and brain fried as they go downstairs for coffee, only able to cajole his limbs into working properly because he can't stand to spend any of his leftover time away from her.
It had been near impossible to hold back his feelings this morning, when she was all around him, clinging to him, then driving him to incredible heights. There was this moment, when they first woke up, when she smiled at him, this bright, beautiful thing that he wanted to memorize, so he can think about it every time he closes his eyes, picture that moment, her radiance.
He's so utterly besotted it's ridiculous, but he's a romantic at heart. He may not be able to show it with where and when he says the words, but he's damn well going to make her see it with how he says it, and what he says.
He's going to tell her how absolutely incredible she is, how brilliant her mind is, how he's in love with every single bit of her, from that breathtaking smile to her sass and snark, to the way she scrunches her nose up when she gets grumpy and her passionate, fiery temper he hopes to stay on the right end of. He's mad for her, for all of those little things that come together and make Regina Mills herself.
She's eyeing him oddly, and she looks almost… nervous. That's not quite it, and he doesn't know what to make of the expression on her face.
He can normally read her so well, but right now she's a bit of a blank. It's disconcerting, has all of his words sticking on his tongue. He shivers as this sense of foreboding ripples through him.
The atmosphere has shifted somehow, and he's not entirely sure what has happened, if she feels it too, if she's even noticed.
She's chewing at her lip, then she sighs and his heartbeat ratchets up. All of a sudden he knows, feels the burn of her words before she even says them.
He was wrong, she doesn't care about him.
She stammers out, "Robin, I… this was fun, really, really fun. Not that there's anything to end but…"
He feels his mouth fall open and he's staring at her aghast, in shock. This can't be happening. He is in love with her for god's sake. He was going to… and she's…
How was it all a lie?
Then it gets worse when she says, "And I don't think we should pick this back up in September. We don't know where we'll be then."
Where they'll be then, where they'll be.
What the actual fuck does that mean?
It's over, like that. This can't be it, it can't be. He deserves a hell of a lot more than that. This cannot be real. She cannot be doing this.
He doesn't say anything in response, can't just look at her flabbergasted. Of all the ways he pictured today going, he never once imagined this.
How can she do this? How can she not care about him? Why pretend for so long? Why not just let him loose ages ago.
He thought her staying with him through everything with his mother meant something, thought all that support was real and genuine, but turns out it was all a lie.
Fuck her. She should have done it then, shouldn't have stuck around and lulled him into a false sense of security.
She knows how he feels. Dammit, he may not have ever said the words, but she knows.
How could she do this? After everything?
There's someone else, that has to be it. It's the only explanation, the only reason she could be like this, be so callous and careless as she shatters his heart.
So much for caring about him, for caring about his feelings. She didn't even try to let him down gently or give him an explanation.
He burns, rages, feels it bubbling up and he's biting off, "So that's that then, is it?"
She cowers a bit, "I just… I think it's best, for both of us."
For both of them, you know what would fucking be good for him? Not to have been lied to for all this time, not to have been pulled under by sweet words that actually meant nothing.
Fuck her.
And fuck this.
He needs to get out of here, out of this place that is all her, that holds so many memories that were once sweet and are now tainted, ruined.
How long has she been planning this? All of those times he was agonizing over leaving her, she was celebrating the fact that he'd be gone soon. She kept him around as a way to get off, to release tension. She was never going to date him, she made that clear from the start.
He never should have agreed to this, never should have let himself get so deep.
He thought he knew her, thought he loved her, but this person, the one who lied to him for months just to get laid, that is not who he fell in love with.
"Robin, where are you going?" she calls after him as he races to grab his stuff and get the hell out of here.
"Anywhere but here."
"I… what?"
Is she for real right now? What, really? How about the fact that she just destroyed him, and what now wants to watch as he falls apart? He will not give her that satisfaction.
He's inches from the door, backpack in hand and he bellows at her, doesn't give a shit that he's yelling, that he's making a damn scene, because he's livid. Wants to break something, throw something, do any number of destructive things to quell this feeling inside of him.
He won't do any of that, but he doesn't have it in him to control his voice, not like this. "I'm getting out of here, getting out of your life, just like you wanted."
"Wait, Robin, I want to be friends I want—"
He doesn't give a damn what she wants, has his hand on the door handle and doesn't even bother to turn around as he glowers, "Well that's too damn bad. I never ever want to see you again."
"Robin, you can't… you can't mean that."
Shit, she's crying, he can hear it in her voice, but you know what she deserves it, she can spill a few tears over him, won't compete with the sea he'll spill over her.
To think he was planning all these things they could do to keep this alive while he was gone, and she was celebrating the end of the charade. It wasn't about keeping the memories, it was about saying goodbye.
He hates it, he hates that he cares about her so damn much that those tears are making him feel like an absolute asshole when he has done nothing wrong. He wants nothing more than to turn around, wipe them from her face and swear to her that everything will be okay.
But it's not.
None of this is okay, and underneath all of that anger there's a well of pain, a heartbreak ready to consume him, and he can't, he can't be here anymore. He cannot let himself be drawn back into her. Maybe it really was all about the sex for her this whole time, she didn't care for him at all. Now that the sex is gone, she's done with him.
That hurts even more than the idea that there is someone else, someone else who gets to have all the things he wanted with her, the things up until ten minutes he thought were going to be his, be theirs.
She doesn't want him, and it kills him, but he has to accept it.
She may be upset and want him to stay but he needs to do what's best for him, needs to walk out this door and cut her off.
He cannot have her in his life. She may want to be friends, but he cannot, not now, maybe not ever.
He's done with Regina Mills, forever.
A/N: I promise this has a happy ending just bear with me