For OQ Prompt Party 2020

Prompts:

89. Robin lays in bed one morning and admires Regina while she gets ready.

227. Massage.

It's a rainy Saturday morning in April, and she's already had two wake-up calls, but Regina cannot be bothered to get out of bed.

She has duties to attend to. Important ones, she's sure, what with being President and all.

But Robin is currently pressing the heel of his hand into that spot on her right shoulder blade that's been bothering her all week and god, she could just stay here forever.

His touch is gentle, but firm enough to rub at that pesky knot until it finally loosens, and it's the first time she's felt relaxed in days.

"That feels good," she whispers sleepily. She's still on her side of the bed, head resting sideways on her pillow, eyes blurrily staring at the bright "6:05" flashing in the far-too-intrusive alarm clock.

"Better?" Robin's delightfully raspy voice asks from behind her, and she nods slowly, her cheek brushing against the silken pillowcase beneath her.

"Much," she confirms, and he hums in agreement when she adds, "That's been bothering me for days."

"You're been very tense about this Correspondents' Dinner," he says, and as if on cue, she feels her whole body seize up the slightest bit, going rigid at the mere idea of tonight's dreaded event.

"Sorry, didn't mean to bring it up again," Robin insists, and she can feel how his hands are going a little firmer, roaming with a little more purpose as his thumbs push down into the base of her spine and up, up, up to that sore area on her shoulder blade once more.

"It's fine," she lies. It isn't fine, but it should be. You would think after all these years, she'd be used to it. To comedians enchanting audiences by making light of the attempt on her life in her inaugural year, to all the tired jokes about her hidden romance with Robin, to the jabs they throw about her "controversial" gender equality policies... She should be used to all of it. And she knows it's all done in good fun and there are no hidden motives, but try as she might, the Correspondents' dinner is always a nerve-wrecking event.

Not to mention that Robin got shot during her very first one, and there's still residual anxiety over that.

The silver lining to this particular Correspondents' Dinner, however, is that it's her very last one as President. Next year, David will (hopefully) be the sucker they're making fun of up in that podium, and Regina can sit back and enjoy the show.

"Stop thinking," she hears Robin mutter into the naked skin of her back, and she chuckles at his command, turning onto her back so she's nestled between his arms as he leans over her. "You're supposed to be relaxing."

"Sorry," she tells him, "My body's relaxed. My mind's just a little...rattled."

"Well, I suppose I can provide some kind of distraction," he replies, biting down on his smile before he leans in.

God, she loves him.

The kiss is chaste at first, slow and romantic as he pecks her mouth over and over again, but then he lingers, sucks at her bottom lip just how she likes it, and she's lost to the feel of it, to the tingling that starts low in her belly as she kisses back, tongue giving the seam of his lips a little lick that makes him moan briefly.

Regina smiles, as always loving how much she can affect him, and she feels his hand moving from where it rests beside her on the mattress to her waistband. She's wearing soft sleep shorts and nothing else, and her naked nipples are starting to get a little needy.

When Robin veers away from their kiss and ducks his head down to take one of the pert peaks into his mouth, the phone on her nightstand rings.

"Ugh," she whines when Robin stops, hanging his head in defeat before he lays a sweet kiss on her chest and pushes away.

"It seems you're a little late this morning, Madam President," he teases. Regina groans at his words, turns to the source of her annoyance and answers her third wake-up call.

"I already told you I'll be down soon," she half-snaps into the phone.

"Well, I'm sorry, Madam President, but you have a meeting with the Secretary of State in ten minutes," Ingrid's voice answers just as snippy.

"I'll be there soon. And watch the tone," Regina warns. "I'm not in the mood for your sass today."

She all but slams the phone back in place, turning to Robin and pouting pathetically.

"I don't want to go to work today," she admits. "I just want to stay here with you."

He chuckles at that, reminds her, "Actually, I'll probably be getting my fifth wake-up call from Ashley any minute now. I was supposed to be down there before you were even up."

Regina sighs as she runs a hand down her husband's naked torso, drinking in the sight of him all sleepy and inviting before she huffs and rolls out of bed.

But despite the fact that he should be getting ready, too, Robin just...gets comfortable, sinks back into their comfy bed and props his back up on the pillows, his head against the headboard as he watches her.

"I thought we were getting up," she says with a raise of her eyebrow.

"We are, I just want to watch you for a bit first," he tells her as he rakes his gaze over her, pausing on her naked breasts for a moment before continuing up to her face.

"Like the view?" she asks with a chuckle. And she knows the answer, of course, but loves to hear it nonetheless, especially when it comes in the form of a breathy Fuck yes as his hand travels down under the sheets for a moment.

Regina walks back to the bed slowly, meeting his hand with her own and rubbing in unison, delighting in the little gasp he gives her in response and planting a quick kiss on his lips before she pushes away completely, giggling at his frustrated groan and the whisper of Evil that accompanies it.

He stays there to watch her though, follows her movements as she moves in and out of the bathroom, a sleepy, adoring grin on his face all the while.

"So beautiful," he hears her whisper, and she turns her head over her shoulder to offer him a smile in thanks.

"It's taking everything in me not to get up and take you against the bedpost," he says then, and Regina laughs.

"Ingrid will not like that," she jokes.

"Fuck Ingrid," Robin says, and she laughs harder. It's no secret her husband and her assistant do not get along, but it amuses her how much more he seems to hate her on days like today, where her promptness with presidential appointments interrupts the very non-presidential things Robin and Regina want to do.

"We can always skip tonight and stay in," she offers as she walks back to the bed, knowing this plan is futile, but trying anyway. "I could blow off the whole thing and just hide under these covers and let you do many bad things to me."

"Mmm," he says when she reaches him, kissing her softly once, twice, and a third time before he continues, "And then tomorrow you'll hate yourself for missing it and be grumpy all day."

Regina huffs. He knows her too damn well.

"It'll be fine, my love," he insists. "I'll be with you the entire time. You have nothing to worry about."

And he's right, she knows that. But there's a comfort in hearing him say it, a reassurance that helps calm her nerves as she exhales slowly and nods in reply.

The loving kiss that follows is soft and full of purpose, settling the anxiety that had been creeping up to the surface just minutes ago. With that, and the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a blanket, Regina decides tonight doesn't seem so daunting after all.