The Evil Queen said "We do like it rough, don't we?" and then this happened...

Written for days 1 and 2 of OQ Rough Sex Week

Enjoy!


Regina's fist punches the door open as she storms into the bedroom. She's livid.

All this time she's been trying to— He doesn't get to just— Ugh, she cannot believe him.

"We are not done talking about this!" Robin barges in after her, and oh, he did not just shout at her like that. She is the President of the United States, not some dog he can just call and expect to obey.

"I have nothing more to say to you," she says haughtily, and feels a sick little pang of satisfaction at the frustrated huff he gives her in return.

"Good, then you can listen," he snaps, the door closing loudly behind him as he all but throws it shut.

"I will not listen to you when you're being ridiculous," Regina spits back, and the set of his brow deepens, his scowl almost comical.

"You cannot even say it, can you?" he hisses, "You can't accept that I'm right!"

"Because you're not!" she shouts back.

"Oh, is that so? Then tell me, Regina, why wasn't I involved in the negotiations for that trade agreement with Cambodia two days ago? Or the arms deal with the Saudis last week? Or what about the black ops mission to rescue those two soldiers this morning?"

"I'm the president, Robin, I don't need you by my side every minute of the day."

He rolls his eyes at that, and it has her seething.

"You don't get to just make these decisions without—"

"Without what? Consulting you?" she throws at him, "I don't need you to hold my hand while I run the country, Robin, only I get to decide how I do things."

"I'm your Chief of Staff!"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be!"

He lets out a frustrated yell at that, and then he walks closer, stalking towards her. Regina stands her ground, looking up at him defiantly.

She can see the tension on his neck, the way his hands shake with rage. He's angry, so angry. And she shouldn't find it sexy, shouldn't be thinking of just pouncing on him right this second, but she can't help it. They'd been in bed this morning, trading naughty touches and hot kisses, when this whole thing had started.

He'd asked her if she'd been excluding him on purpose, had used his talented fingers to get her going, and then dropped the question like a bomb.

Needless to say, it had put a damper on things. And now not only is she angry, she is also sexually frustrated.

From the moment she made him her Chief of Staff, Regina has been on the receiving end of some very nasty remarks from the party, and that, in turn, has ignited the appetite of critics and the press, something she cannot afford right now, when everything is still so shaky after the ordeal with Sidney six months ago.

The general public might consider her and Robin's story one of romance and adventure, but the reality within her ranks is a lot more grim than that.

She'd tried not to let it get to her, had tried time and again to not fall into the trap of fighting back, especially against people whose minds were already made up about her. She had tried to go on about her business and keep things running as smooth as possible, to let Robin's expertise speak for itself.

But of course, that hadn't been enough for the power-hungry politicians and resentful military officers who think her weak. She needed to do something drastic.

Regina has to prove to them that she can do this on her own, has been doing it on her own all along. That Robin isn't whispering in her ear, telling her how to approach the situations presented to her, that she can handle her post without help.

"Is that what you want, then? You want me to leave?! Fine! Fire me! See if I care," he says in his ongoing tirade.

"Great, now you're just acting like a baby," she drawls.

"You have no right saying that to me," he fires back, one clenched fist rising to point his index finger at her and wave it wildly as he continues. "You have been shutting me out for weeks now, and it's all because you want those assholes to like you."

That finger now points to the door, with an irritated thrust of his arm to the side as he refers to said assholes, and then he keeps on talking, his outrage clear. "Don't talk to me about being immature when your entire approach to this has been nothing but childish, Regina."

She can feel the warmth from his body radiating onto her own. She's still so aroused from their interrupted foreplay earlier that having him so close to her has her body arching slightly in his direction.

His eyes momentarily drop from hers, and fixate on the tops of her breasts as they press tightly into her red blouse with her every inhale. His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, his breathing heavy, and screw it, Regina decides. They can fight later.

She kisses him, wild and bruising. Grabs the lapels of his jacket and crashes their bodies together.

It takes him a moment, his body still rigid and unmoving as she bites his lower lip, but then he's groaning, kissing her back.

And then he stops.

His hands are firm as they grab onto her arms and pull her away, and Regina straightens her back, stares into his fiery eyes and scowls.

"What the hell are you doing?" Robin asks, refusing her.

Oh, that just won't do.

Regina moves her hand down and grasps his cock over his trousers, adding just a tiny bit of pressure to her grip, just enough to make him groan. He's hard. Not hard enough, but she'll solve that soon.

"What do you think I'm doing?" she seethes. "You can yell at me all you want... after you fuck me."

She doesn't give him a chance to reply, bites into his bottom lip again, pulling it roughly.

It does the trick, and next thing she knows, Robin's hands are on her ass, lifting her. Her legs wrap around him instantly, and her teeth are rabid, nibbling and tugging as she sinks her nails into his back.

Suddenly, he has her pressed against the wall, and the jostling he does to keep her upright and grant her better leverage has her jerking a leg to the night table and kicking her bedside lamp down to the floor. The clatter startles them both for a moment, and then his eyes are on hers, dark and full of fire before he goes right in and kisses her.

Her pencil skirt doesn't have much room for her to open her legs, and the hem of it presses tightly into her thigh, but she pays it no mind, just focuses on the hot, almost feral kisses he's bestowing on her, whimpers when his teeth bite at the swell of her left breast before he moves back up to her mouth.

His tongue is wild, almost violent as it tangles with hers, lips suckling harshly as he sinks his hand into her hair and tugs.

"Is this what you want?" he rasps when she gasps out a Fuck! against his cheek, her hips rolling to seek friction, going faster when they find it against his cock. He's rock solid now, straining against the smooth fabric, and Regina all but grinds herself on him as her kisses turn more aggressive, her hands clutching at him.

Robin's hands fall from her ass then, letting her land on her feet with her front flush against his and her back pressed to the wall.

She has no time to protest the action, because his hands are suddenly there, grasping her shirt and pulling at it fiercely, buttons raining all over the carpet beneath them. She's wearing that new black bra that he likes, and it plays well into this little tryst, has him groaning as he bends down to kiss her breasts over the lace, her torn shirt still hanging loosely over her shoulders.

Next, he rucks her skirt up, until it's bunched around her belly, and she's launching forward to catch his lip with her teeth, then drifting down to nip at his chin and obscenely lick a trail up his jaw, until she's breathing fast and hot into his ear.

He's got a hand on her underwear now, shoving it aside furiously and giving her clit an unceremonious rub. It's...new. Not bad, not at all, but it's different. It lacks that reverent quality that always accompanies his touch, and something in her unravels at the idea that right now, he's not interested in making love to her.

Right now, he wants to fuck her, just as badly as she wants to be fucked.

One finger thrusts up inside her, firm and fast as it moves in and out, and that's even better, she thinks, because the slapping of his hand against her has little vibrations hitting her clit just right, and pleasure blooms even in the wake of their hostile exchange.

"You're wet," Robin states, and it sounds almost accusatory, but he's enjoying it, too. She can see it in the way he swallows hard, feel it in the way he crashes his lips to hers, until she's slammed back against the wall once more, his hand adding a second finger and pistoning in hard and without preamble.

The action is shocking, but no less desirable, because the brusque movements have him hitting her G-spot almost instantly, and then she's crying out how fucking amazing it feels, ordering him to keep going.

So of course, he stops.

"Is this what you want?" he asks again, his breathing ragged, and it occurs to her that she never answered that. But then, her actions are an answer all on their own, aren't they? Still...

"Yes," she rasps, because she realizes that it's not about actions, but about her having a choice in this. He's asking for permission, he wants to know that this is okay, even furious at her as he is.

She'd be moved by the gesture if she wasn't so frazzled.

Her spoken confirmation seems enough, though, and suddenly his hand is back between her legs, two fingers burying themselves inside her as she all but shouts her pleasure.

His mouth bends to her breasts, free hand pulling harshly at the lace that covers them as he sucks and licks her nipples. There's nothing delicate about it, rather, it's sloppy and bumpy and harsh, but it's good. He's unleashing his anger, and so is she, wrestling his suit jacket until it's off his body.

His white shirt is no longer crisp and tidy, but wrinkled and haphazardly unbuttoned at the top from her constant pulling. She wants so badly to rip it off just as he did hers, and Robin must guess her intentions, because then he's quickly taking it off himself, depriving her of her wish.

It doesn't stop her.

Her nails sink into his skin as she runs them down from his shoulders all the way to his abdomen, the muscles contracting under her coarse caress.

His hand bucks deeper into her, moves harder, faster, as he commands, "You excluded me on purpose. Never do that to me again."

Her breaths are quick, shallow, but she manages a haughty, "I'll do whatever I damn well please," in response, and it only seems to spur him on.

His thumb rubs over her clit now, round and round while his fingers circle inside her and hit that delicious spot over and over again. Regina can feel it building, can almost taste the sweet moment of release about to reach her, and the "Fuck, yes! Don't stop," she lets out is a hoarse whisper as her forehead falls into his chest, her hand wrapping around his forearm and squeezing so hard she can already tell she'll leave a mark.

And then the bastard stops again.

The noise of protest that erupts from her is unlike any she's ever made (or heard, for that matter), her nails sinking deeper into the skin of his arm, to the point that he hisses at the pain. Good.

"What part of 'Don't stop' did you not understand?!" she whines, but Robin doesn't reply, merely grabs her by the waist and hoists her up. Regina thinks for a second that he's about to throw her on the bed, but he doesn't. Instead, he walks out to the living area and sets her down against the green wall near the fainting couch.

He steps back for a moment, taking her in, and Regina makes the best of it by disposing of her torn shirt and the stupid skirt that has done nothing but get in the way. She tosses both items to the floor, not giving a damn where they land, and then moves to unbutton Robin's pants.

He's so hard. Bobs out of the constraint of his underwear when she gets rid of that, too, shoving it down his legs and letting him kick it off with an annoyed grunt. And then she's taking him in her mouth, sucking him in earnest, her hand pumping in time.

It's only a few seconds before he's burying his fingers in her hair and pulling, guiding her firmly, but not forcibly, over his cock. She sucks loud and wet, knowing the sound will drive him wild, and then he's bringing her up, tugging on her hair until he bobs out of her mouth and she rises to meet him.

His lips are strong, demanding as they fall onto hers, his tongue entering her mouth without the tentative peek he tends to give her. She loves this, loves how unbidden he's being, feels herself grow wetter, hotter, as he bites her lower lip, then moves to suck hard at her neck, marking her. She's told him countless times before she doesn't like hickeys. That it's important she doesn't have any, since she's constantly having her picture taken (or worse, video), but today she cannot bring herself to care.

When she pulls back, she grabs his hand in hers, runs it down the valley between her breasts. His finger catches on her bra for a second before she forces it down, down, until she's holding his wrist to guide his hand back to her sex, tightening her grip to keep him in place.

"Fuuuuck," he groans out when he feels how wet she's gotten, and then he's thrusting a finger inside once, twice, again, crooking and circling until he hits the right spot.

"God, yes! Right there," she tells him, and then a second finger joins the first, followed by a third one, and their combined girth has her stretching deliciously as he keeps thrusting, fucking her with his hand.

He's kissing her roughly, teeth sinking into her lower lip and pulling until she moans and claws at his shoulder. And then they're not kissing anymore, just hovering, mouths so close their shallow breaths mingle, foreheads meeting while he keeps fingering her. Her knees go weak, legs almost giving out as he hits her G-spot over and over, the sounds he makes sending her every sense into overdrive.

When he orders her to come, his voice low and gritty in her ear, his hand continuing with that driving rhythm of steady, hard in-and-outs while his other hand twists her nipples firmly, Regina is ready to obey.

In no time at all, she's shouting through her orgasm, riding his hand wildly where she stands pressed against the wall, and before she's even done feeling the waves of intense pleasure, Robin is sinking her into the fainting couch.

She hates this stupid couch. Always has. Hates the antique mahogany structure and the horrible flowered calico upholstery and the stiff cushions. She's never understood why it's even here.

But she's splayed on it now, with Robin looming almost menacingly above her, his eyes drinking in her debauched state as she lets one of her hands find his ass and squeeze.

Right when she thinks he's about to kiss her, his mouth deviates to her bra, teeth catching on the lace and pulling, pulling, pulling, until he lets go and it half-snaps back against her. The other cup is already awkwardly bunched under the swell of her breast, and Robin makes quick work of the one that's still in place, tugging until her nipple is free for his mouth to suck and bite once more.

It tingles. Her entire body tingles, still riding out the orgasm from before. Regina moans, one hand threading into his hair and giving it a harsh tug that has him growling into her neck.

Her back is propped up against the end of the couch, so that she's half sitting on it, her legs open as Robin settles between them. The tip of his cock bumps against her belly, leaving a bead of moisture there before Regina moves her hand to his shaft and pumps.

"Fuck!" he says when the pad of her thumb presses over his tip, his hips jerking as he kisses her fiercely.

There's nothing delicate about it, nothing serene, it's all teeth and wet, suckling noises that accompany the firm pull of his mouth over hers. Her lips are swollen, and she's still wet between the legs. So wet. And impatient. And angry.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" she grouses as she drops her hand from him, "Fuck me."

He growls again, bracing himself on the arm of the couch with one hand and grabbing his cock with the other, giving a few passes with it over her sex to tease her (annoy her, more like). Regina rolls her hips before she can stop the urge, and then solves to wipe the satisfied smirk off his face by bringing her hand up and wrapping it around his neck, not choking him, exactly, but adding just enough pressure to make him tense.

But he's got the advantage here, because his other hand is still on his cock, guiding him home in one quick stroke, and her grip falters when she moans at the feeling of finally having him inside her.

There's no reprieve, no time to adjust or enjoy the feeling of him there, because he's pulling out and slamming back in. Both his hands are now braced against the end of the couch, on either side of where she's resting her head. He's got one knee bent on the couch, his other leg stretched out, foot resting on the carpet under them, and the sight of him there, naked and wild and hot above her, has Regina moaning loudly.

She turns to the side, and sinks her teeth into his wrist where she can reach it, but only for a moment, because his next thrust is fast, hard, and it has her gasping in shock.

"You okay?" he asks, concern coloring his tone. Because he just can't stop being his wonderful, considerate self for one second, can he?

"Shut up and fuck me, Robin," she fires back, undulating her hips to bring him deeper.

He grunts at her remark, then pulls back and thrusts in again, and again and again, nailing her into the fainting couch over and over. Regina's back is rubbing against the stiff fabric behind her, and she should lift herself up a little, should put some distance between her and the upholstery so that it stops scraping against her skin, but the angle is amazing, and the unrelenting rhythm Robin has set is fucking amazing, his movements hard and deep as she grabs his ass again and kneads there.

On a particularly strong thrust, he lingers, body pressed against hers as he moves to kiss her with an intensity that surprises her. He's not just angry, he's hurt. And she can feel it in the hurried, desperate bruising of his lips against hers, in the erratic circling of his hips, and the ragged breaths he lets out into her cheek when their kiss falls apart.

He doesn't stop moving, keeps bucking into her over and over again in that same delicious rhythm, but the atmosphere changes. It's no longer just about fighting, but about claiming each other. And it's then that Regina finally understands.

He thought she was leaving him behind.

Her free hand moves to grasp his face, curling her fingers over his cheek and chin, her eyes lost in the storm brewing in his. She realizes how much this thing between them has been plaguing him, how much pain she's caused him by excluding him from her work —his work, too, by extension— and sets to remedy that with an urgent kiss and another sharp roll of her hips.

His tongue plays with hers, his cock pounding into her as his jaw tenses under her touch, the scrape of his stubble rough and familiar under her fingertips. Her index finger slips into his mouth when they part, hovers just above his tongue as he breathes heavily and stares at her, hips still moving quick slapping into her, bouncing her against the arm of the couch, moans tumbling out of him at the feel of her.

She's right there, right on the edge, but she can't fall, not until the tension in his muscles eases, until she can drive away that cloud that darkens the blue of his gaze.

He's panting in the limited space between their faces, hot breath washing over her as she drags her hand down his throat and moves it to join the other at his ass, squeezing again with enough force for him to get the hint.

On the next thrust, he goes harder, deeper, better, and she feels herself climbing higher and higher.

"You are mine," she says between shallow breaths. It has nothing to do with what they were talking about before. Nothing at all. But it's what she needs to say, what she needs him to know.

"And you are mine," he rasps in response, moving in to kiss her once more. He doesn't let up, the pulsing tempo of his hips turning erratic as he picks up speed, and then she's there, that harsh tingle of unbelievable pressure tightening inside her, until it explodes in currents of ecstasy that ignite her very skin, her scream louder than the last, her hands clutching harder at him as their mouths clash together.

They don't kiss, not really, just pant into each other while the tips of their tongues brush together. In that moment it's just this, just them, and the intoxicating sensation of their bodies sliding together as Robin thrusts and thrusts, pounding her through the waves of her orgasm until he finally comes inside her, with broken gasps and a shout of her name that he mufflesagainst her shoulder.

His hips slow, but continue moving, rolling languidly in an attempt to cling to the last shreds of their pleasure. He mutters her name into her breast, kisses there and moves up her chest, to her neck and into her hair, his upper body all but curling into her as his cock softens inside her.

When he pulls away, Regina whimpers at the loss, then melts down into the couch until she's fully lying down, legs still as open as she can get them, with Robin now kneeling between them as she explores him with her eyes and sighs in satisfaction.

It's a little awkward then. Usually, they take a few minutes of lazy caresses and kisses before they move off of each other, but they had been fighting before this, and it's difficult to tell where they've left things. Regina isn't even sure she's angry anymore.

"I'm not phasing you out," she murmurs, avoiding his eyes as she rises to sit properly, her legs dangling off the couch now, toes skimming the carpet.

"Sure feels like it," she hears Robin reply petulantly.

"The party needed to see I could do things alone," she explains, and Robin only scowls.

"The party can fuck off."

"Yes, well, I'd rather not lose my job because of your stubbornness, thank you," Regina claps back, head snapping towards him defiantly. When all she gets is a scoff in reply, it's her turn to scowl.

And then Robin takes a deep breath, and shifts back to get up from the couch, and something about the finality of the action has her moving before she can even think to do so, her hand closing around his arm and stopping him from leaving.

"You are mine," she reminds him, "and I am yours. No matter what the party says, or what happens on the job, we still belong to each other."

Robin takes a deep breath at that, and Regina feels a flicker of relief light up in her heart when he sits beside her on the couch and takes her hand, thumb rubbing back and forth over her skin.

"You should have just told me," he says, and she rolls her eyes, despite the guilt that gnaws at her heart thanks to the dejected tone in which he speaks.

"Like you would've just stepped aside without a fight," she says with a raise of her eyebrow.

"I don't like being blindsided, Regina," he throws back, eyes slightly narrowed as they focus on her, his thumb pausing in its gentle rubbing over her knuckles.

She sighs then, because fine, he's right on that count, and she tells him so.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, looking down at the hand he still has grasped in his.

"Yeah. Me, too," he says with a sigh, and his thumb starts caressing her knuckles again.

"Did you really want me to fire you?" she asks then, smirking at him as they both remember his harsh words from earlier.

Robin chuckles, shakes his head and admits that No, not really.

"I quite like my job, actually," he says after a pause. "I'd like it more if you'd let me do it."

Regina huffs at that, rolls her eyes again, but playfully this time.

"Okay, I deserve that," she admits. "Now stop."

He gives her a little laugh, one that warms the deepest corners of her soul as she watches light flicker back in his eyes.

"Are we okay?" she asks, her hand going to the back of his neck and playing with the hair there.

Robin leans forward, catching her lips in a sweet kiss.

"We're okay," he says when they part.

"I'm meeting with the Hungarian foreign minister tonight. Wanna join me?" she asks him then, and his eyes widen, then sparkle with mirth as he shakes his head.

"Oh, no, you are not sticking me with boring old Mr. Nagy again. Last state dinner he talked for an hour about the new chandelier in his mansion. One. Hour. Gushing over a bloody chandelier!"

Regina tries, she really tries to contain her grin, but can't quite manage it as she insists, "Oh, come on, he's nice!"

"And I shall appreciate how nice he is... from a very long distance."

"I thought you wanted us to work together," she retorts.

"The party needs to know you can do things on your own, Regina," he tells her in a mock-stern tone.

"Oh, that is low," she says with a laugh, grabbing the cushion closest to her and smacking him with it.

"I'm only looking out for your best interests, Madam President," he defends, putting his hands up to shield himself from yet another whack of the cushion before he rises, walking hurriedly back into the bedroom while Regina stays on the couch, giggling at the sight of him bare-assed and fleeing from her.

"Hey," he calls to her, popping his head back into the suite.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

She smiles at that, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with one hand as she hugs the cushion to her torso with the other.

"I love you, too," she replies.

When she hears the shower running a few minutes later, Regina gets up to join him, their fight all but forgotten.