Based on a great prompt I received from an anon on Tumblr.

Rated M


It's been two whole months since their wedding, and Regina has never wanted him more.

It's like getting married has somehow boosted her libido, like knowing he's officially hers for the rest of their lives has triggered a need to claim him, to mark him as just that at every possible opportunity.

Last week, she'd cornered him in his office, closed all doors and fucked him senseless right there on his chair, because she could. A few days ago, she'd jumped him in the rose garden during one of their secret late night walks, touching him over his trousers, licking a line up his jaw as she'd told him how much she wanted to make him come under the stars... she'd ended up face-first against the clear wall of one of the greenhouses, her breasts pressed into the cold glass, nipples pert and hard as he lifted her skirt, shoved her panties to the side and pounded into her, his pants down by his ankles.

Two days later, she'd woken him twice in the middle of the night. Once with her hand on his cock around midnight, stroking him until he'd been up and hard and inside her; and another with tongue-filled kisses that had driven them to a quick romp just before their 5AM wake-up call.

And last night. Oh, last night...

She'd been at a gala, in honor of some White House sponsored charity or other, welcoming diplomats and allies, and in he'd walked, wearing a blue suit that matched his eyes and did wonders for his body, the fabric clinging to all the right places. Regina had dragged her husband to a bathroom upstairs, hiked up her long red dress, and let him hoist her up with his hands on her ass. Her legs had wrapped around his waist as he slammed her against the wooden door behind her, and then he'd thrust fast and hard into her, swallowing every moan and whimper until she'd come and come and come.

And now here she is, in the Situation Room, surrounded by her military council, devising strategies for an arms recovery mission in Nepal, and all she can think of is how good Robin looks when he takes charge like this.

It's an easy mission, there's a team already on the way, drones are staking out the area, and she has been assured that the complex the weapons are in has been abandoned, so there's next to no risk of anything going wrong. Regina knows she should focus anyway, that it's an important mission despite the 0.9% chance of loss of human life, but Robin is biting his lip as he goes through the information on the screen, and her eyes cannot stray from the sight.

At least until one of the men in the room catches her attention with a chipper, "Wouldn't you agree, Madam President?"

Regina blanks, has no idea what the question even was, and one look at Robin, at the ridiculous smirk on his face, tells her he knows exactly why she looks so startled.

But he loves her, and proves it by depriving himself of his amusement as he saves her from embarrassment.

"We discussed this earlier today, General Li, and President Mills was quite clear that she will not be selling these weapons to China, no matter the offer."

Oh, yeah, okay, she's got this now.

"General Li, though I am very grateful that China is letting us use their airspace for this mission, and while I can appreciate that you have your country's best interests at heart, I cannot in good conscience let you take those weapons to your government. You know this."

Her tone is authoritative, firm, but she and Shang are also good friends, and so the words are carried with a hint of exasperated amusement, and a half-hearted roll of her eyes when he shrugs sheepishly at her and says, "Not even if we let you monitor their use?"

"Not even even if you offered me the giant slice of apple pie I'm craving right now," she jokes, and everyone lets out a little laugh.

General Li sighs defeatedly then, still smiling as he tells her, "Can't blame a man for trying."

"I certainly can't, but it's not gonna work, Shang, let it go," Regina answers.

The giant screen shifts from a digital map of the site to the live feed from the team currently flying over China. There's idle chatter between the agents, some ribbing and lame jokes peppered into the safety checks and mission review.

It's a lull of sorts, a short reprieve while they wait for the real action to start, and Regina takes advantage of the now-dimmed lights and the distracted chatter between her council members to pull out her old trusty Nokia and type out a quick text.

She hears the buzzing of Robin's phone from two seats away as it vibrates in his pocket, and feigns innocence as she stares up at the screen, watching out of the corner of her eye as her husband picks out the old device and smirks at her message.

RM: I want you on this conference table.

He tries to look amused as he types up his answer, but Regina catches the way he shifts in his seat just a bit, and knows she's gotten his attention, despite his eyes being so intent on the military officer now talking to him.

Her phone buzzes in her lap (and with how riled she is just thinking of Robin naked and hard, having those vibrations so close to where she's aching is probably not the best idea), and she inconspicuously rises from her chair to pour herself some coffee from the little cart by the door.

She stops when attention has been deviated from her and back to talk of the mission, and she adds fixings to her steaming cup of joe one-handed, nimble fingers clicking a response to his playful reply.

RL: If I'm not mistaken, you've had me on this conference table ;)

RM: Perfectly good time to refresh my memory, if you ask me.

She sits back down at her chair, and engages the generals in smalltalk while they watch the feed. She asks little technical questions, nods her head in all the right parts of the conversation, and tries to look interested in what they all have to say, keeping as much focus on the mission as her currently randy attention span will allow.

But Robin hasn't answered her last text, and it's starting to bug her.

He's seen it, Regina knows he has, had adjusted himself almost imperceptibly (she wouldn't have noticed, if her eyes weren't glued to his enticing physique from across the table) and deposited his phone back in his jacket pocket, throwing her a dark, very promising look.

But she's not going to come from looks alone, and she wants him. She doesn't need a reminder of the time he'd fucked her on this table. She can see it clear as day, her skirt hiked up over her ass, his hands gripping and kneading as he'd pounded her against the cool surface where her coffee cup now rests. He'd been wild that day, needy after going without sex during most of her recovery. She'd been desperate for a rougher touch then, too, had wanted to feel him taking her, possessing her, and god, just the thought of it has her growing wetter.

The screen of her phone remains blank, though, and with a quick glance at him she notices he's doing it on purpose. There's this devilish little grin on his face as he discusses something with general Jones that tells her he knows exactly what he's doing.

And he's enjoying every bit of it.

Well, two can play that game.

Regina takes her phone out again just as Robin rises from his chair and moves to the coffee cart for a refill, types up a text she just knows will give her the upper hand.

RM: If these people weren't here, I would be on my knees with your cock in my mouth.

Sure enough, there's suddenly a bit of a commotion by the cart, and Regina and the generals all turn to find a very flustered Robin hastily trying to set the mini muffin basket upright, his wrist accidentally toppling the sugar bowl in the process. His other hand has the phone still clutched in it, and he stuffs it in his pants pocket in a messy motion before he looks at them all.

"Blasted thing always does that," he excuses, and she sees what he's doing, sees the jut of his chin as he smiles nervously in Shang's direction.

Sure enough, the Chinese general murmurs his agreement, and he tells his colleagues of his own episode with the muffin basket, when he'd accidentally knocked it in his hurry to grab a quick breakfast before a meeting.

Regina smiles to herself, then picks the conversation back up.

She thinks he'll reply with a half-hearted admonishment, a short Not now or a quick Regina, this is not the time, but instead, his answer boasts a bit of a cheeky tone, and the fact that he wants to play has her biting into her bottom lip as she sneaks a glance at him.

She finds him staring at her, licking his lips as he nods at her lap, where he knows she's keeping her phone while she taunts him.

RL: Don't make promises you can't keep, Madam President.

There are commands being shouted now, and the helicopter on site is descending, shaking up dust and dry leaves as it hits the ground and the agents file out in quick steps.

The mission begins, and in a record seven minutes, the weapons have been secured and loaded onto the vehicle that will carry them to the nearest safe landing point. The military aircraft is already there, waiting in a secure perimeter, and the entire endeavor is considered a success.

It seems the build-up was longer than the actual recovery of the smuggled weapons, and after congratulatory handshakes and trite comments on an excellent performance, the generals are filing out of the Sit Room in twos and threes.

Regina says her goodbyes to Shang while Robin cuts off the feed, secures the channels, and switches the screens back to their default image of the Great Seal, their dull glow illuminating the room in navy and white. If she didn't know any better, she'd think it nighttime, but the bustle of the corridor outside can be heard while the door is open, staff members walking down to lunch, greeting Secret Service agents on the way.

Shang is met at the door by Tuck, the White House Chief Usher, who offers to see him out while the President and her Chief of Staff go get ready for their luncheon.

Shit.

She'd forgotten about the luncheon.

It's a diplomacy thing, and there's a speech she must deliver to all the refugee advocacy leaders that are probably already starting to arrive, as well as the media and several foreign officials. Ruby has picked out an outfit, something clean cut and comfortable that she should be putting on right now, but...

She looks at Robin then, who is appraising her from where he's leaning against the table, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes roam her figure.

Maybe they won't notice if she's a few minutes late.

And besides, she's been dealing with a crisis all morning. She deserves this.

Robin seems to be thinking the same thing, because she hasn't even said a word and he's already using the secure line in the Sit Room to dial the Secret Service office.

Regina shuts the door behind her and leans against it as she watches him. She studies the line of his jaw, the slight tension in his shoulders as he rakes his hungry gaze over her body, the phone dialing on speaker between them.

"Hey, boss," Agent Swan's voice rings loud, a cheerful greeting that has Robin tearing his eyes away from Regina and muttering a quick hello in response.

"I need a favor," he tells her, his voice cautious.

At her Name it, he throws a cheeky look at Regina, smiles as he tells Agent Swan, "I need you to make the Sit Room go dark."

"Dark? Why would you— oh, god, Robin, not again!" she whines over the line, and Regina can't help the little hiccup of silent laughter that bubbles out of her as the blonde adds a frustrated whisper of, "Why can't you just use a bed like everyone else?!"

"Can you buy me an hour?" Robin asks, ignoring her tirade.

"Are you trying to get me fired?! Do you know the kind of pandemonium that would occur if the White House Situation Room went dark for an hour?! DHS would have my head!"

"No one ever has to know, you're the only one keeping an eye on the feed at this time of day... although if you'd rather watch..."

"Gross. Stop. Stop right now, you'll give me nightmares," Agent Swan interrupts, and Regina chuckles, audibly this time, letting Emma know she's being heard over speaker.

"Madam President, I'm so sorry," she backtracks, stumbling over her words, "I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, Agent Swan," Regina waves her off as she walks closer to the phone, the click of her heels muffled by the dark carpet that covers the space. When she's close enough to be properly heard, she asks, "Can you get us an hour alone or not?"

The other woman sighs, hesitating a bit in her mumbling before she says, "No, ma'am, I'm sorry. I can't get you an hour."

"What can you get us, Emma?" Robin asks then.

Regina lets her hands slide over her thighs, feeling the softness of the beet-colored fabric as she goes. Her husband follows the movement, licking his lips slowly and giving her a very particular smirk.

He wants to eat her out. She knows what that smile means, what those lust-darkened eyes are telling her. He wants to taste her, to make her come with his tongue, and the mere thought of it has Regina growing desperate, has her closing her eyes and fighting a moan.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and they've forgotten they're not exactly alone, until Emma's voice mutters a resigned, "I can get you thirty-five minutes. Maybe forty if no one comes into my office."

"Forty will do quite nicely," Robin tells her, and then hangs up the call when the woman on the other end sighs and begrudgingly accepts her task with a low You owe me, Locksley.

And then the line is dead, the screens are off, and the only source of light are the dull beams from the bulbs on the ceiling. It's a glowy, cozy sort of atmosphere, not dark by any means, but... intimate. Private.

Exactly what she wants.

"Sit over there," Regina instructs her husband.

He's surprised, but follows her command all the same, throwing a devious smile her way as he teases, "Something the matter, Madam President?"

Regina doesn't answer, only raises an eyebrow as she draws the nearest chair back, back, back, until it's away from the table, rolling aimlessly along the carpet with the forceful push of her foot.

Robin drags his own chair back as well, leaving ample room between the table and his legs, his hands twining fingers over his lap.

She sinks down then, crawling slowly under the table, minding her head from hitting the smooth black surface and keeping an eye on the other end, where Robin waits.

"Regina?" he calls, sounding confused. She can't see his face from down here, but that's about to be remedied. Her bare knees drag over the carpeted floor, carrying her over to his side of the table, where his legs part the second he catches a glimpse of her.

Her gaze zeroes in on him, her eyes taking in the lust in his own. He's aroused, and maybe just a little amused at the image before him, and Regina supposes it must be quite the picture, having the leader of the free world kneeling and ready to suck him off.

Her hands move up his thighs, his own placed right over her arms and joining in the movement as he looks at her and grunts.

"You weren't kidding with the text, were you?" he asks when she licks her lips, her eyes trained on his belt buckle as nimble fingers undo it. She lowers the zipper as slowly as she can, smirking up at him when he groans in frustration.

"Patience, Mr. Locksley," she taunts.

"Easy for you to say," he counters.

"If you could feel how wet I am right now, you wouldn't be sassing me like that," she throws back, and Robin's sharp intake of breath at her words is the perfect reward.

"Fuck, yes, let me feel you, Regina," he begs, and begins to move forward, but she tuts and shakes her head, stopping him.

"I get to play first," she declares, finally freeing his erection from the confines of his trousers. Her hand wraps around his shaft, feeling the warm smoothness of it as she pumps him lazily.

He's hard, yes, but could be harder, and she seeks to remedy that on the spot. Pulling back his foreskin on the next pass of her hand, she gives the bare tip of him a teasing little lick, another, a third one that makes him gasp and jut his hips in the direction of her departing tongue.

"Yes!" he rasps, swallowing thickly before he leans forward.

His hand cradles her cheek, pulls her up to him as he kisses her deeply. His tongue moves in time with the slow strokes of her hand on his cock, teasing along her lower lip right before his teeth pull at it gently. She loves when he does that, loves that little bit of contradiction between sweet and rough in the way he kisses her, like he wants to fuck her and cherish her at the same time.

But they only have forty minutes (nigh on thirty-five now, she wagers), and the only way this will happen is if they graduate to a bit of a rougher touch. So Regina takes a breath, blows it out slowly over the tip of his cock, now stiff and ready in her palm, and then lowers her mouth to him.

"Fuuuck!" he shouts, his hand immediately tangling in her hair as Regina bobs her head lower, lower, taking in more and more of him, her tongue flat under his shaft as she goes. He's groaning and letting out nonsensical expletives, fingers tightening and loosening in her hair, following the rhythm of her head as she begins to move it up and back down.

She sucks him harder, but still slow, still lazy, her eyes focused on his face, watching his reactions to everything she does to him.

"You look so fucking beautiful," he tells her, his voice not breathy enough for her liking. But that will be fixed in a few minutes, as she withdraws her mouth from his cock and crawls up his body, looming over him and trapping his lower lip in both of hers.

The kiss is wet, and uncoordinated, and it only grows needier as she grabs his cock in her hand again, her thumb pressing on his tip and spreading the liquid bead of his arousal over him.

"Mmm," she mutters into his mouth, "been wanting to suck your cock all day."

He hisses at that, then again when she bites his lower lip and pulls, harshly, his tongue delving back into her mouth for another sloppy kiss before she lets go and resumes her task.

Her knees chafe a bit against the carpet, but she pays it no mind, focuses on licking a line up his shaft, then swirling her tongue over the head of him before sliding back down. One hand massages his balls, the other rakes nails over his thigh, eliciting sounds from him Regina knows she'll never get tired of hearing.

He gasps her name, then pleas with a stuttered "S— su— suck, please just—"

She does just that, sucks at him almost greedily and then hums with her mouth still around him. The vibrations have him trembling with the pleasure, have him groaning out a low Fuck, yes, just like that between shallow breaths, and yes, that's more like it.

She teases him, swirling the tip of her tongue along the tiny ridge under his foreskin, and his answering moan sparks her confidence and her arousal all in one.

Regina smiles (as much as she can with her mouth ful of his cock, anyway), and gives him a hard suck before she licks at that little ridge again, reveling in the sounds he makes for her.

"So close, my love, I'm gonna— fuck, that's so hot, watching you suck my cock like that," he tells her, his hand still tangled in her hair. She can feel the strength in his grip, can also feel the tension, the desperate attempt to not push her head down the way he so clearly desires.

"Robin," she tells him, after his cock has popped out from between her lips, sloppy and wet with her spit. "Fuck my mouth like you want to."

His answer is a loud "Shit!" and then a gasp, followed by a breathy, "You sure?"

Those are the moments, she thinks, where she loves him the most, when he's needy and riled and desperate to do all manner of naughty things to her, and still finds it in himself to ask for confirmation. To make sure that her consent is fully given before whatever devious plan he has in mind is put into motion.

Regina nods, tells him again, "I want you to fuck my mouth until you come, Robin," and is rewarded with yet more curses and babbling, with another So hot that makes her own arousal grow.

His hand tightens its grip on her hair, and starts guiding her movements, up and down and hard and deep, the tip of him hitting the back of her throat. Regina swallows against her gag reflex, appreciates the way he keeps the pace slow despite the firm strokes, giving her time to adjust.

"That feels— Ah! Yes, mmm— so good, my love, so good." His words encourage her, have her swirling her tongue over him eagerly when he pulls her head away, his tip bouncing a bit against her open mouth. The spit that coats him wets her lower lip, and Robin groans as he looks at her, making Regina smile smugly even as he trails his hand from her hair to her face, his thumb swiping away the wetness of her mouth.

There's a sound coming from him, this little raspy thing in the back of his throat, not quite a moan but not quite a gasp, either. It's soft, but primal, a hint of just how turned on he is as she lets him guide her head back to his cock, her mouth enveloping him once more.

"Mmm, god, your mouth is a bloody marvel," he tells her in a hushed, lustful tone, coaxing her head up and down at a bit of a faster pace now. She swallows, and sucks, and deftly keeps up with his urges. She knows him (he's her husband after all), knows what he likes, so when his hand keeps her head pressed down on his cock, she can tell exactly what he wants.

She takes him in fully, letting him go deeper and deeper into her mouth, until her lips are at the base of him, the tip of her nose skimming over the sensitive skin of his navel.

"Oh, fuck, yes! That's it, that's it, that's— shit! So good," he rambles, and Regina feels another little lick of satisfaction slither up her spine.

He drags her away slowly, and licks his lips when Regina moans around him, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. He opens them to meet her heated gaze, teeth sinking into his lower lip when his cock falls from between her lips, a short pause while she catches her breath.

"I'll never get tired of seeing my cock in your mouth," he whispers, his hand tightening and loosening in her hair in gentle tugs. It's a soothing gesture of appreciation, one that is completely at odds with his comment, with the way he bites his lower lip and tells her how badly he wants to fuck her with his tongue.

"You want it, don't you?" he asks her when she moans. "You want to come on my tongue."

She nods and bends back to take him in again, letting him dictate the rhythm of her sucks as he moves her head over his cock.

Except she can't exactly concentrate when he's still talking to her.

"I can't wait to taste you," he says, "to put my fingers inside you and make you scream. Do you want that, Regina? I know how you love it when I finger you while I eat you..."

He's talking about that little maddening trick he does with his fingers, when he pushes into her and then presses downward for a few moments before curving up to find her G-spot, all while his tongue does wonders to her clit. And he's right, she loves it, loves how full that trick makes her feel, as if it's his cock and not a pair of fingers... and god, just the idea of it. Of feeling that inside her as he licks and sucks right where she wants him...

One of her hands is still on his balls, still massaging and adding to the different sensations she's providing for him with her mouth, but her other hand is free, slack against her side. She puts it to good use, lets it skim over her stomach and down, under her skirt and over her panties, rubbing slow circles over her clit.

"God, yes, touch yourself, love," he tells her, and his hand adds just the tiniest bit of force to its grip, moving her head up and down on his shaft, a little faster now, a little harder, the tip of him reaching the back of her throat again and again. Regina swallows around him, sucks hard at him when he bobs almost all the way out, and takes the reprieve he offers when his hand grows limp in her hair.

She releases his balls, moves that hand back to the base of his shaft, stroking up and down as she sucks at his tip, reaching the very top and pulling back his foreskin again so that her tongue can stutter along that ridge, licking up the precum there and making this low, guttural scream tumble out of him.

His hips buck up and off the chair, and Regina hums her approval, licks more of him, her tongue leaving more wet trails along the smooth skin of his rock-hard cock.

"Fuck, yes, keep going, love, I'm gonna come so hard," he pants, one hand back in her hair, back to dictating the pace of her movements (faster now, she notices, a bit rougher), and his desperation makes her moan, makes her give the head of his cock another long swirl of her tongue while it's trapped in her mouth.

"Shit, you feel so— fuck, I'm— Mmmnaahh, gonna come..."

She realizes that the urgency in his tone is a warning, in case she wants to pull away before he reaches that peak, but she meant her words from earlier, she wants to suck him off, is so riled up that all she desires right now is to feel him come in her mouth, watch him shatter and shout and tell her how fucking good she feels.

And then he does it.

It doesn't take more than another little moan, the vibrations of her muffled Mmm along his sensitive tip, another hard suck, and then he's cursing and trembling as he comes and comes, his release a series of warm spurts down her throat.

She swallows it all, and then watches him. He's panting, still, his limbs melting a bit onto the chair as he looks down at her with this adorable, lazy smile on his face.

"Funny how I'm the one who had a cock down her throat and you're the one who needs to catch his breath," she teases, because she can't help it, loves that he's so spent and sated by her actions.

"You," he says, "are a fucking goddess." His hand cradles her cheek, runs a thumb along her swollen lower lip, that easy smile still on full blast. Idiot.

She chuckles at that dopey look on his face, shakes her head away from his grasp, and reminds him, "It's your turn to play now."

Robin's smile only grows, and then he's hooking his index finger under her chin, lifting her head up and bringing her to him. Her knees protest the second she rises, popping and hurting as she straightens up and leans her ass on the table, stretching a bit while her husband's eyes wander over her body.

He stands then, his cock limp and bare between them, and says, "You are entirely too dressed for me to play properly, Mrs. Locksley."

"Is that so?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow, and then turns her back to him, moving her hair to the side and offering the zipper of her dress to him with a naughty, "Well, by all means, Mr. Locksley."

Just the touch of his hand over the back of her neck sends shivers down her spine. She hadn't realized just how turned on she'd gotten by sucking his cock, but the awareness is in sharp focus now, making her gasp when she feels his lips land a kiss just above the collar of her dress.

And then he's dragging that zipper down in one fast, fluid motion, his hands immediately reaching for her ass and kneading deliciously before he turns her again and shoves the fabric off of her.

She's in a matching set of black silk under the dress, simple and elegant (if you can call skimpy lingerie elegant, anyway). There's no elaborate lace or frilly garters like she's worn for him lately, but it seems to do the trick all the same, because he's burying his face between her breasts and groaning there.

At her answering gasp, Robin nips and sucks at the swells, then brings them out of the cups and stares at them, his mouth open and wanting.

In seconds, he closes his lips around a nipple and sucks hard, making Regina breathe out an Oh, god that makes him smile into her breast. Before she can admonish him for being smug, he's running his teeth over her wet nipple, not biting, but rather tickling the sensitive skin with feather-light nibbles.

And then, just as his tongue starts to flick at the hardened peak, she feels his hand drop to her clit, fingers rubbing in tandem, and he knows, he knows what this does to her, having him pay such wonderful attention to her breasts while he touches her. He knows it makes her loud, makes her needy, makes her gasp and buck into his hand and beg for—

"How badly do you want my fingers inside you, Regina?" he asks, because of course, he knows she's about to beg for them, to scream at him to please fuck her with his hand. It's what she does when he sucks at her nipples and rubs her clit like he's doing now.

"God, Robin, we don't have time for this, just— Mmmh!" she whimpers, because instead of waiting for her answer, he's already pushed two fingers into her, probing and testing, moaning over how wet she is.

"Sit back on the table, my love," he tells her, and Regina obeys immediately, spreading her legs to give him better access to her aching sex as Robin leans over her and keeps sucking at her nipples. He switches from one to the other, using his free hand to grasp the just-abandoned breast and knead. At her near-scream of pleasure, he runs the pad of his thumb over her nipple, now slick with his spit, and keeps mouthing at her other breast, sucking and swirling his tongue over it while that hand he has on her sex moves faster, thrusts his fingers harder.

"Robin, please, I need..." she trails off, because she doesn't know what she needs exactly, only that she needs to come.

"I know, darling, I know," he tells her, and good, at least he knows, and will give it to her if she just moans a little more, she knows he will.

So she does, let's the full-throated cry of pleasure that rips out of her ring loud in the quiet space around them, and Robin grunts, the rhythm of his hand faltering slightly.

He hasn't eaten her yet, hasn't brought his mouth down to her clit or his tongue down to her entrance like she wants him to. And she's already bare-assed on the conference table of the Situation Room, with only twenty minutes left before their privacy expires. He needs to hurry.

She moans on a particularly hard thrust of his hand, turned on as she is by the wet little sound that the action throws out into the gasping symphony between them. He does it again, looking to elicit the same reaction, and this time he drowns it in a groan of his own as he tells her, "Fucking hell, I love it when you scream for me."

"I'm so close, babe," she whimpers, her breaths short and shallow as she braces herself on her arms, stretched just behind her back. His hand slows its rhythm, prolonging the delicious feeling as he moves two fingers in and out of her, rotating them while his eyes roam her naked figure.

She takes the reprieve, calms her breathing and then leans back a little further, palms flat against the smooth black table as she whispers, "Make me come."

Her words do something to him, she sees that primal need flare up in his eyes the second she says them, and then Robin is on her, plopping himself back on the chair and moving as close as he can to the table. He stares at her first, runs his fingers through the wetness of her sex and follows the movement with his eyes, licking his lips before he brings those fingers up to his mouth and sucks her arousal right off, moaning at the taste of her.

"Bloody perfect," he whispers, his voice a low, gravelly thing that lights her body on liquid fire, waves of pleasure erupting as he fingers her again, running his thumb firmly over her clit this time.

"God, yes!" she yells, because that's exactly what she needs, she needs attention on her clit. She wants his mouth, but they're running out of time, and she's desperate enough, and it feels so good, that she's sure she'll easily come from this, from his talented fingers sliding in and out, from that thumb keeping her clit well seen to.

But he withdraws his hand, and the next moan she'd been about to give him comes out as a frustrated cry of "Robin!"

Her wonderful, loving husband, cheeky dolt that he is, only smiles at her.

And then he keeps his eyes on hers, steady and lustful as he finally bends down and gives her a slow, flat lick.

This time, when she shouts his name, it's a long, draw-out Robiiinnn! as her hand instantly flies to his head, tangling in his hair and tugging slightly as she keeps him just there.

Not that she needs to, with the greedy way he's licking and sucking at her now. His tongue is relentless, flicking at the sensitive bud in quick little strokes that feel unbelievable, especially when paired with those two fingers he now has teasing at her entrance.

"Please," she whines, because she needs it, needs that little downward push of his fingers inside her like he—

"Oh, fuck!" Regina screams when he does just that, and the feeling of his digits pressing down inside her once, twice, rotating again and again, is all kinds of erotic, all kinds of amazing.

He moans at her reaction, closes his lips around her clit and sucks hard as he moves his hand a little faster, and then he's curving his fingers up, searching for her G-spot.

When he finds it, he doesn't let up, and gives her a few quick thrusts before he's pulling out and moving his mouth lower, the tip of his tongue laving over the sensitive skin. His fingers spread her open for him, and then his tongue is at her entrance, wet and warm and incredible, and Regina cannot help but gasp at the wonderful sensation.

Her grip on his hair tightens, and she mutters encouragement in the form of needy little Ohs and Yeses that spur him on, make his tongue move faster as it slides in and out of her.

"Fuck, you feel so good, babe, so good," she whispers, her eyes closing against her will. She wants to watch him, wants to see that satisfied look on his face when he stares up at her and gives her a deliberately slow lick just to provide her with a better visual. But it feels too good, and her body is in overdrive, her hand falling from his hair as she surrenders to the feeling of his tongue fucking her, of his fingers as they push back into her when his mouth takes its place back at her clit.

"So fucking wet," he mutters, low and raspy against her sex, and Regina forces her eyes open then, looks back down at him and moans at the image before her.

Robin's eyes are closed, one hand busy between her legs while the other is down and out of sight, but she can see the slight movement of his arm, knows exactly what he's doing.

"Oh, god, you're..." she trails off, gasping when he gives her another hard suck, a wordless admission that yes, his cock already wants her again.

He's not hard, she knows from the slow movements of his hand that he's not ready to go just yet, but he is well on his way, and fuck, she so wishes they had more time so she could ride him on this table, feel his cock fill and stretch her to perfection...

"So close," she babbles, and Robin is licking fast at her clit again, pausing only to suck at it while his fingers continue to move inside her. The thrusts of his hand are hard, deep, have him hitting that spot that makes her writhe and mewl under his touch.

"Yes, right there, right there! Aahh!" Regina shouts breathily, moans again when Robin continues his attentions, parting from her only to tell her how fucking gorgeous she is, all wet and needy like this.

"It's all you, babe, all you," she tells him, because it's true, and because she needs to come, and stroking his ego usually makes him even more eager to make that happen. "I'm so wet for you."

"Damn right, you are," he agrees with a possessive grunt, licking over her clit in flat, long strokes that make her whimper as he adds, "Are you mine, Regina?"

"All yours," Regina concedes in a gasp, and it must do something to him, because his answer is a loud moan that sends little vibrations over her clit, a faster thrust of his hand.

He sucks at her, making slurpy sounds that get her hotter, wetter, and Yes, right there, she tells him, her voice a low, breathy thing.

Robin doesn't stop, keeps the steady rhythm, the deep fingering, the wet, sloppy sucks. His other hand abandons his cock, moves to press down on her lower belly, shifting the angle just a bit and keeping her steady even as her back arches and her hips buck into his hand at the newfound pleasure.

"Fuuuuck!" she screams. "That feels— god, yes! Don't stop, don'tstopdon— Mmmh, fuck!"

Orgasm washes over her in waves, rippling through every part of her as Robin continues to lick and suck and finger her while she comes. His hand holds her in place despite the delicious trembling of her body, little tingles of pleasure overtaking her, echoing through her very skin as she gasps and moans and gasps again.

His hand slows inside her when she relaxes, the arm she'd been using to hold herself up falling slack beside her, as she stretches out on the table, the hand she'd had in his hair running its thumb over his plump lower lip. God, he's a sight, with his mouth wet and a little swollen from being so long between her legs. She hums, satisfied and boneless on the tabletop, and he's so satisfied in his achievement that he lets out a bit of a laugh as he places one last, tiny kiss over her clit.

"Smug bastard," she tells him, but there's no real insult behind her words, rather a breathy laugh that he joins into when he pulls back to look at her.

"Language, Mrs. Locksley," he chides, smiling all the while. Regina shakes her head, or rather lets it flop lazily to one side, unable to fully move just yet.

"And with three minutes to spare," she informs him when her eyes catch the clock on the wall. Robin chuckles again, then looms over her, the warmth of his body washing over hers as he kisses her, slow and deep.

"Mmm," he says against her lips, "unless you want Emma to see you in all your naked glory, I suggest we head back to our chambers now. You still have that luncheon to attend."

Shit. Right. The luncheon.

The realization that she now has to go back to her very busy life as the president shakes that lazy post-orgasm fog from her mind, has her sitting up and jumping down from the table, looking for her clothes and putting them on hastily while Robin does the same.

She doesn't bother with her shoes or her bra, rather lets them dangle from her fingers as they both quickly exit the Sit Room and sneak down a hidden passageway behind an adjacent wall.

It reminds her a bit of when he'd make his way through these little shortcuts to visit her in her room, back when their relationship was still a secret. It's amusing how these hidden corridors seem to be the most fervent witnesses to their love for each other, seeing as they are now, once again, using them to escape notice, to avoid her staff from taking one look at her and realizing what she's been up to with her very hot, very sexually talented husband.

"I want you to fuck me against one of these walls," she whispers as they walk.

Robin turns to look at her, a little dumbfounded by her suggestion.

"But... we'll be late to the luncheon," he excuses, though she can tell his heart isn't in it, he's already stopping their hurried steps, already turning and putting his hands on her waist.

"We're late anyway, might as well make it worthwhile," she argues, and her husband raises an eyebrow at her at that.

"Was it not worthwhile when I had you coming on my hand and tongue just a few minutes ago?" he asks, faking offense.

"Oh, that was very... very much worth the while," she starts, her free hand walking two fingers up his chest, touching the skin left in sight by the open collar of his shirt. "But I want to come again... with your cock inside me."

She keeps her voice flirty and seductive, a mere whisper in the limited space between them as she drops her bra and shoes to the floor, the heels landing with a loud clank! that echoes in the somewhat cavernous space.

Robin breathes out heavily at her words, his fingers digging firmly into her waist where he holds her as he protests, "God, don't say those things to me right now."

"But they're true," she teases, taking his hand from its perch over her dress and moving it under the skirt, until he can feel her, hot and wanting beneath the fabric of her panties.

"God, you're still soaked," he observes, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he fingers her slowly, prodding and exploring while she breathes warmly against his ear.

"Imagine how good it will feel, Robin, just the two of us, locked in here with no one to catch us, no one to hear... you could make me scream as loud as you want."

His fingers move a bit faster, a bit sloppier, he's too distracted by her words to do any proper foreplay, but they don't need it. She's still wet, and he's already hard from hearing her.

The hand she'd used to move his below the dress now drifts to his cock, stroking him over his pants and moaning at how ready he is (thank god for brief refractory periods).

After a few pumps, Regina loosens the belt buckle and unbuttons his pants, watching them fall down to his ankles.

"Fuck me, Robin," she tells him, just in case he needs more convincing.

He doesn't, though, not if the sharp intake of breath he gives her in response is any indication.

His hand leaves her then, moves to hike the dress up, until it's over her thighs, bunched over her lower stomach. Regina moans just as his fingers leave her, and then he's kicking away his pants from where they are crumpled in a heap beneath them, and growling into her neck as he lifts her up, her legs wrapping around him instantly.

The tip of his cock brushes against her clit with the movement. Regina lets out a strangled Aaah! that sounds foreign and raspy, but it does the trick, has him nipping at her chin, kissing her wildly as he presses her into the wall behind her.

Her back arches in reaction to the cold stone, but resettles against it just as Robin uses one hand to shove her panties to the side, lines his cock with her entrance, and pushes into her in one smooth stroke.

They moan together, a breathy laugh escaping him when he realizes the coincidence.

And then Regina is looking deep into his eyes, licking her lips, and urging him, "Go on, Mr. Locksley. Fuck me. Hard."

Robin groans, burying his face in her neck and kissing there, ravishing her skin as he slowly pulls almost all the way out... and slams back in hard.

"Fuck, yes, babe, like that," Regina whimpers, licking at his jaw, tangling her hand in the hair on the back of his neck and pulling. She smiles smugly at the grunt of satisfaction he lets out into her jaw, before he nips at it and licks a trail of kisses down to her mouth.

His tongue is velvety and warm as it savors hers, and Regina revels in it, in the wetness of their kisses as they grow deeper, more intense, his cock moving faster now, setting a rhythm that has her so close to coming already.

"So good, so g— oh, god!" she shouts, because they're alone in here, undisturbed, and she can scream down the rafters if she wants to. And oh, does she want to.

Robin presses her more firmly into the wall, drives his hips faster, harder into hers, his cock filling her over and over again in time with her cries of pleasure, and god, she loves this, loves him, so, so much.

"You like that?" he asks, a hurried gasp into her ear, "Do you like the way my cock feels inside you, Regina?"

"Yes!" she yells, "Yes, don't stop! Love when— ah! When you f— mmm— fuck me like this."

He moves infinitesimally to the right, no more than the shifting of his weight from one foot to the other, and in that tiny change, he finds it, hits that sweet spot inside her with his cock, over and over again, firm and unrelenting.

The sound she lets out is wild, and needy, and far too loud, silenced only when his lips land on hers in another messy kiss.

"I love hearing you," he says into her mouth, and Regina only answers with a loud Mmmh that trails into a breathy, broken thing when he hits that spot yet again.

Her arms loop tighter around his neck, and she starts to roll her hips into his, using the wall for purchase so she can meet his thrusts.

The action makes him lose that spot for a moment, but he distracts her with his hand, moving it between them beneath her skirt and moving the fabric of her underwear a bit more, so he can flick roughly at her clit while he tries to find that angle again.

The moment he does, pleasure blooms in her belly, spreads out to the rest of her and has her screaming out a high-pitched Robin! that makes him fuck her deeper, faster, ramming her into the wall with every thrust of his cock inside her.

His hand abandons her clit, and moves up to her breasts, covered by her dress. He finds a nipple over the fabric, rolls it between his fingers as he kisses her again. It's not nearly as good as it feels when she's naked, without this pesky barrier of knit burgundy, but it does the trick, works enough to rile her further, to have her whispering a needy Harder, into his ear.

He obeys without question, pumps harder into her, hitting her G-spot again and again each time.

"So fucking tight," he grunts, his hips moving in tandem with hers as she bounces on his cock, and it feels so good, so fucking good, she can't help the broken Aah that tumbles out of her. Can't stop her body from arching into his, her mouth from seeking his for another tongue-filled kiss.

His hands are both back on her waist, her breasts left unattended, but she's so ready to come that it doesn't matter, all that matters is that his hips keep moving just like that, that his cock keeps hitting that spot just like this.

"God, I'm so close, darling, I— fuck!" he rambles, thrusting and gasping into her neck.

She's screaming, panting, digging her nails into his back because she's almost there, almost, all she needs is—

"Come, Regina," he orders as he pulls his head back, his voice husky and unbelievably hot, and fuck, yes, that's it, that is exactly what she needs. She needs the talking, needs that dirty, predatory look he's giving her as he adds, "I want to feel you coming on my cock."

And she does. Screams her orgasm as it hits, writhing in his hold. Robin follows right after, still thrusting into her as he comes, his mouth urgent on hers, swallowing her cries.

Everyone else is going about their busy days while she's here, in this hidden passage getting fucked by her husband against a wall. It feels illicit, and amazing, and her entire body tingles with the pleasure of it all.

"That was..." Robin trails off, his forehead falling to her shoulder again, his lips planting a tiny peck there as he exhales warmly into her skin.

His cock is still buried inside her, softening as they both catch their breath and share languid, deep kisses. She feels relaxed, happy, wants to smile and laugh and kiss him some more. So she does. Because he is her husband and she can.

He hums when they pull away, lets out this tiny little Mmm after their mouths part with a wet pop. It makes her smile, makes her lean in to dot a quick, sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Now," she says, her voice a quiet murmur in their blissful little bubble, "we better get going, Mr. Lockley, we have to get dressed for the luncheon we're already late for."

"Your wish is my command, your majesty," he teases, and Regina scowls at him, or tries to, anyway. She hates that nickname, hates it, but she's still riding that post-coital high, and her angry reaction loses its bite when she can't tamp down her smile.


Of course, they are very late to the event, and are met at the entrance to the ballroom by a very nervous Elsa.

"Madam President, I was told you'd be here half an hour ago," says the Press Secretary, trying —and failing— to conceal her worry, "Is everything alright?"

"Just fine," Regina assures her, tightening her grip on Robin's hand beside her as they walk in together. She chances a look at him, at that ridiculously well-fitted charcoal suit he's wearing, takes a deep breath that carries a whiff of his pine-scented cologne, and god, she wants him again.

She's in a lovely dress, purple and classy, with an asymmetrical neckline and two black ribbons that tie into a pretty bow just over the back of her neck. Her hair is down, and the black pumps she's wearing carry her a little taller as she weaves through their guests.

She makes a point to lean forward whenever Robin is standing right behind her, makes sure her rear is on full display for him as she moves to greet people. She's not wearing underwear, not with this dress, and knows the exact moment Robin realizes it, because she's just reached a secluded corner by the entrance when all of a sudden his hands are on her waist, his breathing heavy and warm in her ear as he whispers, "Madam President, it seems you've forgotten something."

His hand smoothes over her ass as he says it, perfectly hidden between her body and his, unbeknownst to the dignitaries now fluttering about and greeting each other with stiff Hellos.

The band they've hired for the occasion starts to play, the music muffling the constant murmur of hundreds of conversations going on at once. Their guests are distracted, and she's greeted everyone she was supposed to greet. Perfect.

"Have I?" Regina asks innocently, pressing further into him, so that the hand he has on her is now trapped between her ass and his crotch as they walk backwards to a nearby pillar, only stopping when Robin's back thuds softly against the marble.

Regina realizes that desire must be evident on her face, or maybe on his. Either way, what they're doing must be obvious, because they're starting to get weird looks from the Secret Service agents posted by the neighboring pillars, including John, who is closer to them, and suddenly finds a very interesting spot in a nearby wall.

Regina can only smirk, turns to her husband with her teeth digging into her lower lip.

"Stop that," Robin warns, but his eyes are glued to her mouth, his tongue peeking out to wet his own. She's got him.

"What do you say," she offers, "if we go and, uh, find what I forgot... in your office?"

"Tempting as that sounds, we are being watched," he argues, and Regina deflates at that, because yes, he's right, but she wants to—

"So I'd suggest we retire to the Residence, not to my office," Robin says then, and there's that glint in his eye, that need in his tone.

She smiles then, big and wide. Can't help it.

"Bedroom it is," she agrees.

He leans in then, his mouth pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. The action is fully at odds with the animalistic hunger she can see all over his face (the same one that is reflected in her own, she's sure), but the feather-light touch of his lips grounds her, has her grasping his hands and squeezing for a moment.

"I love you," she says, grinning when his forehead falls on hers as he tells her he loves her, too. So much.

There's a little metallic clink in the grip of their right hands, and Regina lets her eyes fall on their wedding bands. Her engagement ring catches the light from the splendid chandeliers all around them, making it twinkle and shine beautifully; and the reflective glow of the diamond embellishes the simple white gold band that lays right next to it, the one that has a curvy Forever yours and their wedding date engraved on the inside.

"Marrying you is the best thing that's ever happened to me," Robin tells her, when he catches where her gaze has shifted to. "After Roland, of course."

Regina chuckles at that, agrees with a low, "After Roland, definitely," that has him smiling in return.

The sweet moment has calmed her down somewhat, but his lips are still so close, and god, they'd felt so good on her neck earlier, on her nipples, her clit...

"Agent Little," Regina calls, "Please let Press Secretary Frost know I'm going up to my room, I'm feeling a little... flustered. Need some peace and quiet. Vice President Nolan and his wife should be here in ten minutes, I'm sure she can handle our guests just fine in the meantime."

"Yes, ma'am," John acknowledges, still not tearing his eyes away from that enthralling spot on the wall, his cheeks flaming red.

Regina chuckles a bit, tries to get him to lighten up. "Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun, Agent Little," she tells him, "I'll be back before dessert is served. Can't miss that apple pie."

John Yes, ma'ams her again, trying to share in her amusement with an awkward laugh. And Robin, who has remained quiet throughout the entire exchange, claps John on the back when they walk by him, shaking his head at his friend's obvious embarrassment.

"You enjoy messing with him way too much," he accuses, and Regina says nothing. Mainly because it's true. She's lost count of how many times she's made John blush like that.


She fucks him on their bed, thrilled to bits that she can have her husband so desperate between her legs.

Robin remains flat on his back over the soft sheets, his hands held captive on either side of his head by Regina's grip on his wrists. She rides him, hard and fast, making the bed squeak with every hurried roll of her hips, the high-pitched sound joining their loud moans.

The more she circles her hips, the better it feels, and when Robin plants his feet flat on the mattress, and starts meeting her downward motions with upward thrusts of his own, it takes no time at all for them to find that perfect angle, for his cock to hit that sweet spot inside her in quick, firm passes.

The dull slap of skin on skin echoes in the quiet of the room, and Regina gasps and screams as she leans further over him, keeping his wrists locked in her fingers against the sheets, moaning when his mouth reaches awkwardly at a nipple and gives it a hard suck.

She comes not long after, with a loud Fuck and a whimper of his name. Robin follows almost immediately, finally freeing his hands from her grasp and rolling them over, kissing her with passion and tongue and a ferocity she cannot get enough of.

When Regina falls asleep that night, after the day has been tackled and conquered, she does so to the cadence of her husband's heartbeat, the soothing sound of his breathing, and the warmth of his naked body under hers...