Prompt: Robin and Regina almost getting caught during a very heated kiss.
Regina rarely indulges in this kind of debauchery (she has an important job to do and an image to maintain, after all), but tonight is different. Tonight, she revels in the naughtiness of her actions. Her very last State of the Union Address is done, and she is celebrating in a way that keeps the chilly January air from freezing her to the bone.
In fact, she's celebrating in a way that has her sweating, squirming, building pleasure and wetness in places that perhaps aren't appropriate for her current whereabouts.
She's in the oval office, and her husband has her pressed against her desk, very hot and very eager.
"You were amazing," he growls into her neck, making her gasp as he rakes his teeth over her skin, pushes her back to sit on the polished wood.
"Out of all the —ah!— the things that t... turn you on — god, don't stop," she whimpers when his tongue swirls just behind her ear, one hand kneading her thigh under her skirt, and she has to take a breath before continuing. "I wouldn't have expec— oh, god... expected the State of the Union to be one of them."
He stops then, despite her protests, chuckles against her chin and then pulls back to look at her.
"Five years together, three of them married, and I dare think you do not know me at all, Madam President," he teases, leaning forward to sink his teeth into her bottom lip, her mouth opening to him instantly, tongue desperate for the taste of his.
He doesn't let go of her lip, though, and he drags it, pulls it toward him before he lets go, his mouth hovering, breath washing over her face as he speaks.
"I never find you sexier," he starts, hand squeezing her thigh again, "than when you're out there, doing all these extraordinary things only you can do."
"Ah, so power is sexy, then?" she breathes as her head lolls back to grant him access to her neck, and he doesn't disappoint, closes his lips around that one spot under her jaw that she likes so much and sucks.
"Very sexy. It's why I married a president," he quips when he pulls away, trailing the words along her skin as he kisses his way up, up, up, lips touching hers for one tender moment before he devours her.
It's sloppy, hard, and unbelievably hot, and Regina thinks if he keeps going like this, she might let him fuck her right here on her desk. And how could she not? When he's swirling his tongue just like that, and inching his hand further up her thigh, fingertips grazing the top of her stocking, pulling it down and moaning when he feels the soft, bare skin beneath.
His other hand, the one not playing sinful tricks on her leg, inches upward, finds a breast and squeezes, thumb searching and rubbing her nipple over the thin fabric of her white cotton blouse and lacy bra.
"How upset will Ruby be if I rip off a few buttons?" he murmurs breathlessly into her mouth, making her chuckle before she stops him, pulls back and raises an eyebrow.
"Are you really thinking of Ruby right now?" she cracks, her tone just as breathless, but no less firm.
"Well, she did smack me when I stepped on your dress at that dinner with the Polish ambassador," he throws back, and she laughs outright. It used to make her insecure, back when she first met Ruby and saw her friendship with Robin, but it doesn't anymore, has come to think of the young brunette as her own friend in the past few years, so the idea he posits, and the memory it triggers, are a source of amusement rather than apprehension now.
"Shut up and kiss me," she orders, and he wiggles his eyebrows at her.
"Bossy. I like it," he tells her.
"I'm the President," she explains with her sauciest grin, and then they stop talking altogether.
The air is full of gasps and whimpers, half-moans that are snuffed by passionate kisses and heavy breathing that warms them both. Seconds later, Robin is rocking his hips against hers, his cock pressing into her, so that she can feel how hard it is even over the fabric of their clothes, and the groan that leaves her is full and loud, has her grabbing him tighter and pulling him closer.
His tongue is a crime, slides against hers in the most delicious of ways, has her crying out broken screams of his name, her hips meeting his in tandem, and the absurdity of what's happening makes her breath catch, has her smiling wickedly at just how exquisitely scandalous this is.
Regina wonders what Queen Victoria would have thought of her using her masterpiece of a desk, made from the timbers of her beloved HMS Resolute, as a surface in which to dry-hump her very handsome, very horny husband.
The illicit quality of it all turns her on even more.
Her kisses grow bolder then, her hand moving out of his hair and down, down, down between them, until she can palm his cock over his trousers, and his hips jerk in response, her name falling from his lips in a heated whisper.
And then a knock on her office door has their entire fantasy shattering in mere seconds.
Regina shoves Robin off of her, straightening the three top buttons of her shirt (when had he undone those?!) and running her fingers through her hair to comb away the mess he's made of it.
"Mom!" Roland's voice greets her as he opens the door, and then he enters and takes in the sight of his parents. Regina tries to play it cool, to pretend like he didn't just walk in on them making out like horny teenagers on a centuries-old desk.
But she forgets that her son is almost nine years old now, and far more difficult to fool than he was when he was younger, and the amused roll of his eyes tells her they've been caught.
"Did you need anything, honey?" She veers the attention away from them and back to Roland, who nods and hands her a piece of paper she hadn't noticed he was carrying.
"Is it okay if Chef Lucas and I try this for dinner?" he asks, brandishing the recipe in front of her. She glances at it, makes sure it's nothing too complicated, and gives him an approving nod and a smile.
"Sure, sweetheart, we'll be down soon," she says, and he scampers off.
"Phew," she hears Robin say behind her, his lips finding the crook of her shoulder and planting a kiss there, his hands wrapping around her, fingers lacing low over her belly. "That was close."
"Oh, and Dad?" they hear Roland call out as he appears by the door again.
"Yes, son?"
"You have mom's lipstick on your face," the boy says with a mischievous giggle, and then leaves them there, closing the door behind him as they stare after him with sheepish grins.
"Oops," Robin jokingly laments as she turns around to face him, finally noticing the smudges of her new burgundy shade on his mouth and jaw.
"Yeah," she laughs, leaning in to kiss him again, picking up where they left off. "Oops."
