For OQ Rough Sex Week... This was supposed to go up yesterday but a few things got in the way.
Have some Missing Year rough sex, everyone!
Unedited, so forgive any mistakes.
Of course, this is rated M.
Regina never expected to love another child after Henry.
The memory of their goodbye, of his reassuring words that stripped her from the title of "Villain" and accented the one of "Mom", still swirl in her head every minute of the day, and the pain they bring is excruciating. She'd sent her little prince away, and he no longer remembers how he saved her from herself.
So no, Regina had not expected to be able to love another child, not after the pain of losing one.
And then Roland came along, all dimples and curls and "My majesty!", and she'd just... let him.
She'd let him crawl his way into her darkened, broken heart and light it up through the cracks.
The boy's father is another story.
Where Roland is hellbent on making her laugh, the thief is adamant to make her talk, to make her trust him, and when that doesn't work, he sets upon making her angry.
"At least it means you're feeling something," he'd said by way of explanation last night, when she'd asked him why he insists on infuriating her.
To her complete and utter dismay, Regina is starting to enjoy it.
She'd never admit it, but she's grown accustomed to snapping at him, misses their banter when he goes out hunting, and try as she might to ignore this... weakness she has for him, she always breathes a traitorous sigh of relief when he comes back unharmed.
Not tonight, though. Tonight, she's angry.
And it's all his doing.
The basket she'd brought with her and Roland to their walk in the woods, the same basket she'd left on the kitchen table earlier this afternoon, overflowing with berries for the pie a boy had insisted on making with her, is now near empty.
Regina grabs the thing with enough force to send the few berries left flying about the kitchen, and then stalks up the stairs and towards the Merry Men's quarters, uncaring of the stares she gets from John and Friar Tuck as she bangs on the thief's door.
When he opens, he's grinning.
"Your majesty," he greets, perfectly calm. "I didn't know you made house calls. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"First of all, this isn't your house, it's my castle," she snaps, "And you know perfectly well why I'm here."
She throws the basket at him then, the berry juice still clinging to it staining his cream colored shirt with little pink splotches. She expects him to make up some excuse, just as he always does, but he surprises her this time.
"What's this?" he asks, feigning ignorance.
"These were for Roland, not for you," she thunders, trying to ignore the tingling in her belly at the sight of his smug smile.
"Ah, yes, he told me you'd be picking berries this afternoon. Something about a pie?"
"Oh, don't play coy with me, thief, I know you ate them," Regina insists.
The man just stands there, looking at her, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he considers his next words. Regina tries very hard not to stare at him, but his shirt is undone, she realizes, hard muscle and sunkissed skin tempting her, taunting her.
"Men, give us a minute, yeah?" he tells Tuck and John, and they seem nervous to leave him alone with her, hesitating in their retreat until their leader assures them it's fine.
"We're just going to have a bit of a conversation, you can head on to bed," he tells them as he walks to the heavy wooden door, "I'll see you all in the morning."
They're alone now, the door shutting loudly as he turns and leans his back against it, arms crossed as he stares at her again.
"You are insufferable," Regina seethes, kicking the empty basket on the floor to make her point.
"Contrary to what you might believe, Regina, I did not eat those berries."
Damn him.
Damn him and his lips, his voice, damn him and the way he makes her pulse quicken when he says her name.
"What am I supposed to tell Roland when he wakes up tomorrow morning and asks me about his pie?" she asks, trying to maintain some of her sass, but he's walking towards her now, and the proximity is making things stir inside her.
"I didn't eat them," he says again, and the lie is enough to get her back to her angry stance again.
One hand shoots out to grab him, fingers grasping him roughly by the chin and turning his face to the side, showcasing a tiny red speck on his skin, just above the line of his scruff. Berry juice.
"You have berry juice on your face. Don't. Lie. To me," she punctuates each word with a menacing stare, but it's difficult to keep this evil queen thing going when he's looking at her like that, eyes dark and wanting as they get lost in the deep V of her neckline.
"My eyes are up here, thief," she says with a snap of her fingers, and he looks up at her, caught and happy about it.
"Apologies. You're a very attractive woman, Regina. It's hard not to look at you."
"This is not about me, this is about you being an idiot and eating my berries."
"Is that an innuendo, your majesty?" he teases, and that tongue of his peeks out to lick his lower lip in a way that seems almost obscene. Is he... is he hitting on her?
She thinks back to a month ago, when they'd been sitting by the lake with Roland between them. She hadn't said a word to him, had focused her attention entirely on his son, but there had been a moment there. A moment where Roland had jumped in the lake to play with the ducks, leaving them both to share the sandy shores. He'd said nothing, either, just watched her, until Regina had torn her gaze away from Roland and towards the man beside her.
What? she'd asked. He hadn't replied, only leaned in closer, and Regina had found herself responding in kind, until they'd been just an inch away... and then the splash of Roland jumping from a nearby boulder and into the water had startled them apart.
That same energy she'd felt crackling in those slow seconds now permeates the air around them, and Regina readjusts her weight, stands up a little taller as she huffs and tries to look annoyed.
It's not hard, frustrated as she is.
"You have got to be kidding me," she mocks his earlier question, but the haughty tone she'd been trying for doesn't quite come out. She sounds breathless and affected even to her own ears.
The thief raises a tentative hand, and when she doesn't move away, he lets it fall gently on her shoulder. He's warm, so warm, she can feel it even through the layer of velvet and elaborate embellishments of her sleeve.
His index finger curves as he runs it up the side of her neck, up to her cheek, and then down the line of her jaw, to her lower lip.
He lingers there, his eyes blazing as they stare into hers, that curved finger finally leaving her mouth, drifting down her throat and caressing circles over her chest.
She wants to be mean. Wants so badly to push him away. She'd seen the tattoo a couple of weeks ago, still isn't quite sure she'll tell him about it. As annoying as he may be at times, loving her is dangerous. She can't risk him finding out he is fated to love the Evil Queen. Despite their shortcomings, she still wouldn't wish on him such a misfortune.
But he is looking at her the way he is, all lust and biting grin, and the "What are you doing?" she throws his way, comes out as an embarrassingly needy exhale, rather than the annoyed tone she'd intended.
"If you want me to stop, I'll stop," he says, and despite his finger still moving, still trailing fire over her skin, Regina can tell he means it, wants her to trust him.
That tongue of his is licking his lower lip again, and it's distracting and sexy, that finger of his now down by her neckline, venturing dangerously close to the tops of her breasts as he traces the jeweled cleavage.
She's breathing heavily, and only now does she notice her eyes have closed, her mouth half-open as she lets this man she barely knows touch her in ways she hasn't been touched in years.
She is sad.
Sad and alone and unlovable.
There's no point in telling him about soul mates and pixie dust. Not when she's this... this monster, whose only salvation now resides a whole world away. There's no point in having hope for second chances anymore.
But this. This, she can have.
So she takes it.
Her mouth is on his before he can even register the action, bruising kisses and harsh movements as she all but shoves him against the door behind him, his back smacking against the wood with a thud.
It takes him a moment, one split second of disorientation that gives her just enough room to maneuver a hand under his shirt, nails digging into his skin when he finally reacts.
His hands move then, roaming her sides, her back, and skimming down to grasp her ass firmly to press her closer, his lips drifting to her neck and sucking where it joins her shoulder. She is not a fan of marks, and under any other circumstances, she would stop him, forbid him from bruising her skin the way she knows he'll do, but it feels too good to stop. Too delicious to restrict him.
And with the way he's kissing her, Regina is unable to deny the little thrill she feels at being marked by him.
He moans, grunts something she can't quite catch before he crashes his lips to hers again, moaning into the kiss while Regina lets her hand wander down his stomach and to the waistband of his trousers.
He is a fantastic kisser.
She's not sure she can give that up after this is over. But she'll worry about that later.
Right now, her focus is the feel of his hands on her ass as they knead and pull her body flush against his. He's warm, so warm, and the exquisite burn of his touch as it rips her corset off of her only adds to the myriad of sensations she can't quite name.
He's hurried in his movements, shoving fabric aside this way and that, until she's half naked before him and his mouth is on her nipple, sucking and licking at it in ways that have her clutching at his hair and gasping for more.
Her bun is uncomfortable, has her head slanting awkwardly to trail kisses down his neck, and so she waves a hand, and barely registers the little puff of purple smoke on her periphery before she feels her long curls tumbling about her.
He stops with one last suck of her nipple and pulls back, admiring the view.
"Stunning," he says, and then she's kissing him again.
His tongue tastes and teases in wonderful, urgent passes, and Regina is wet at the very thought of finding out what else he can do with it.
Another wave of her hand and they are both naked, and the sight of him is... well, fantastic, really. The man is all firm muscle and smooth skin, his cock thick and only just starting to harden for her.
She'll have to do something about that.
Her hand is on him in an instant, her mouth wild on his as they trade hot, sloppy kisses while she pumps him with her hand. His moaning just gets louder, the desperate quality to his kisses making them wilder, hotter. God, he's good at this.
One of his hands leaves her ass and settles between them, covering her breast and brushing a thumb over her nipple. She's sensitive, so sensitive still from his earlier attentions, that she can't help the moan that escapes her.
The sound seems to rile him up even more, has him turning them so that she's the one pressed against the door. While his left hand moves to hold her crossed wrists above her head, his right hand is at her sex, giving her clit fast little rubs before thrusting a finger inside her.
"So fucking wet," he groans into the crook of her neck after breaking their kiss, and then he's moving down to her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and almost making her scream. Almost.
He's fully hard in her grasp now, and it's all been so fast Regina can't help but wonder just how long they've been wanting each other like this, that it doesn't take more than a few rubs and well-placed kisses to get them both aching and ready.
His hand leaves her then, both arms looping around her legs, right under her rear, and lifting her. His muscles tighten as he all but slams her against the stone wall of the room, moving them away from the door.
"It rattles, my men—" he tries to explain, but she's not stupid, she knows he's trying to avoid the noise (for her sake more than his, she's sure. The man tends to read her like a book, it's clear he wants her to enjoy this... whatever this is, without worrying about the Merry Men walking by and listening to her scream). But moving away from the door won't do, so with another, much larger cloud of purple smoke, she transports them, lands them on another stone wall. The one inside her bedroom.
When his initial disorientation from being transported wears off, she tries to kiss him again, but he stops her by turning her, so that her breasts are pressed against the wall, and Regina hisses pleasantly at the way the temperature plays with her. Her nipples are wet from his attentions, and the contrast against the cold stone makes her entire body tingle as she feels his hands roam her ass.
But that's not enough. She needs what they were doing before, she needs the hard thrust of his finger inside her and the sucking kisses on her skin. She needs him to do more so she can come.
"Go on, thief," she commands, and hears him chuckle behind her.
His lips are at her ear then, the heat of his body pressing into her back. He's so warm. So warm.
"I have a name, you know," he rasps, his hand moving down her back, over her rear again, and then settling between her legs, so close to where she wants him.
Next, he kisses a line down her spine, gives her left cheek a playful little bite, and urges her to open her legs, so that she's leaning her upper body against the wall for leverage, bent and spread out for his perusal.
The groan he lets out thrills her, and it occurs to her she's never quite enjoyed a man's reaction to her body like she's doing now. There's a desperation in his touch, like he's been lusting for this for a while (so has she, if she's honest, but he doesn't need to know that), and is finally being allowed the pleasure.
His hands spread her cheeks, and then she feels him blowing air over the wetness between her legs, teasing her just before he dives in with his tongue.
"Oh!" she cries when he licks at her, the tip of his tongue venturing just inside her and back out in quick passes. His hands grasp the backs of her thighs and bring her closer to his face, and his lips are then sucking hungrily at her clit. "Oh, god, right there!"
He's got one talented mouth.
Her fingers curve into the wall, trying to grab onto something as that coil of pleasure inside her begins to tighten with every stroke of his tongue. Her body is humming with the pleasure of it, and when he groans at the taste of her, the vibrations skitter through her sensitive flesh.
"Fuck, yes, do that again," she almost begs, her voice a broken whisper. Her cheek is pressed against the wall, heat spreading through her as those little licks he's giving her become longer, firmer.
And then he stops.
She turns to throw him an exasperated huff, and gods, the sight of him there, kneeling before her with his lips wet and swollen... Regina's not sure she's ever seen something sexier.
"Why the hell did you stop, thief?" she demands, and he only grins smugly at her.
"Say it," he answers. "Say my name."
"Why?"
He rises then, moves close to her and kisses her wildly. The sweet spice of his tongue is now mixed with the taste of her arousal, and there's something unbelievably hot about that, something that has her biting his lip and sucking at his tongue, her kisses turning harsh and needy.
"I am about to make you come with my tongue, Regina," he taunts, breathing the words into the tiny bit of space between them as they part, "the least you can do is call me by my name."
She swallows, then exhales loudly when he ducks to suck at her nipple, his hands warm and solid on her hips. Regina feels her eyes close, feels her body sagging backwards, falling into the wall for support.
"Robin," she gasps, and it's low, almost too low, but he hears it, and moans so loudly at the sound, grows more intense in his ministrations, one hand moving down and thrusting two fingers inside her without preamble.
"Ah!" she whimpers, "I thought you were— oh, god! — I thought you said it would be with your mouth."
His mouth is otherwise occupied, though, still sucking and biting at one nipple and then the other, and Regina lets her hand thread into his hair, feeling the silky texture of it between her fingers as she pulls with every delicious suck he gives her.
But then he lets go, and sinks to his knees again.
Yes. Perfect.
She doesn't turn. And he doesn't wait for her to. She wants to watch him, and he knows it.
So he makes a show of it, licks up her thigh with his eyes set on hers, and then he's back on her clit, lips wrapping around it and sucking hard.
Regina buckles into his mouth, shouts out how good it feels, and adds his name to the mix. It's just to get him going, she tells herself, not because she likes the sound of her own voice wrapping around the word like she owns it.
"Fuck, I love that," he mutters into her sex, never stopping in his attentions.
She notices his arm moving then, fast and bumpy, and realizes he's rubbing himself as he eats her. The fact that he is so turned on by getting her off does things to her, makes her all the more desperate to have him.
His mouth and his hand continue in their delectable little game, driving her higher and higher, until she's right at the edge, and her gasps have turned into screams, her hand back on his hair as she tugs and guides him, keeping him where she needs him as she rides his tongue like it's her job. Her hips are undulating in time with the pumps of his hand on his cock, quick and unrelenting.
"Fuck, yes! Don't stop!" she shouts at him, and then she's coming, screaming out his name as she falls over that wonderful precipice.
His mouth stops, but his hand keeps going, slowing to a sensual little rhythm that prolongs her pleasure as her hips gyrate languidly in time with it, her shoulder blades pressed hard into the wall for leverage. Her legs are shaky, and she feels like they'll give out any second.
But the thie— Robin, doesn't let her fall (it's his thing with her, it seems. Regina suspects he'd spend his life making sure she doesn't fall, if she let him). Instead, he rises, and grabs her legs to lift her, her knees bending as she crosses one ankle over the other at the small of his back.
Her back is fully resting on the wall now, her core pressed right over the tip of his cock, and the sensation of him almost there, almost where she wants him, has her moaning in anticipation.
"Eager, are we?" he taunts, and Regina shuts him up with a kiss that's all teeth and tongues, bites into his lower lip and pulls roughly, giving a little satisfied grunt when he whines at the pain.
And then he bites back, drags his teeth over her upper lip and tugs it toward him, soothing the sting with his tongue before he devours her, and doesn't let up until his cock sinks into her and they gasp in unison.
He's amazing. Perfectly thick and unbelievably hard as he stretches her, and the pleasure is so strong it dulls everything. It dulls her dark urges, dulls her awful memories, even dulls the constant pain in her chest over the missing piece of her heart, and Regina feels she might become addicted to this, to the way he just soothes her, even as he's fucking her hard against the wall of her chambers.
"You feel incredible," he tells her, his voice gravelly and breathing labored. He thrusts faster, more desperate, when she pulls at his hair and bites into his chin.
"Fuck, Regina!" he rasps, when she grinds herself on him, adding the force of her own movements to his unrelenting thrusts, and Oh, that's just what she needs, just the perfect thing to have him hitting that spot inside her. So she does it again, and again, moaning into his mouth as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and presses herself into him.
"Just like that," she whispers brokenly into his neck, biting there for good measure, and then she feels her back hitting the wall again, repeatedly this time, as he uses it for purchase and slams into her over and over, making her scream out a long "Fuuuuck!" that he muffles with another bruising kiss.
"Do you feel that?" he asks as he thrusts even harder into her, and Regina whimpers an affirmative that has him raking his teeth over her lower lip.
"Just like that, just like that," she tells him, and "Fuck, yes, don't stop."
"How does it feel, Regina? Tell me," he orders, and how does he expect her to talk when he's— Oh!— fucking her like this?!
She tries, though. Of course she tries, because at this point she'll give him anything to keep him moving, to keep him hitting that spot just right, keep the pleasure blooming inside her.
"So good," she tells him, "so good. Don't stop."
"Are you gonna come for me, beautiful?" he asks, and the endearment rattles her, but not enough to stop her movements, not enough to stop the delightful heat burning through her as he treats her nipples to little tugging rolls of his fingers.
"Yes," she breathes hotly into him. There's no space between them, their mouths hovering over each other. His nose is bumping softly into hers with every thrust, and Regina hangs on to him as he bucks into her, lets out little moans and whimpers as she feels him slide in and out.
Sweat continues to build as the heat of him warms her, her hair is all over the place, curls bouncing on every harsh roll of his hips, and the hand he'd had on her nipples reaches up now, tangles in her long locks and plays with them gently, intimately, a complete contrast to the driving rhythm of his cock as it fills her over and over.
She's enchanted by him, by the smell of forest she'd found so daunting all those months ago, by the scrape of his beard over her skin as his mouth kisses and kisses her. His hips are growing more erratic in their movements, his breaths more shallow, his speech broken and interrupted by little grunts and moans as she clenches around his cock.
He's close.
"I'm— we didn't use— fuck, that feels good," he says when she sinks her nails into the back of his shoulder and drags them over his skin. "I'm gonna— I should—"
"No. It's fine," she tells him. And it shouldn't be. She has no idea why she said that. But she means it. She wants him inside her. Pulling out now is not an option.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"I want to feel you come, Robin," she says, and the phrase feels foreign on her tongue, uncharacteristic of the great and terrible evil queen who uses and disposes without giving anything in return. But she isn't the Evil Queen anymore. She is Regina. And more importantly, she wants to give him this.
"Fuck!" he shouts in response, moving faster and faster, shifting her just a little to the left with the force of his thrusts, and the slight change in the angle makes everything more intense, makes her feel his every stroke more fully.
Regina comes with a cry of his name, spazzing in his arms and holding on to him as she rides out the full wave of her orgasm. Her entire body shakes from the pleasure of it, and Robin thrusts right through it, muttering an "Oh, fuck!" as he feels her walls fluttering around him.
He comes not ten thrusts later, kissing her frantically as he spills inside her.
They are both panting when they part, his cock still buried to the hilt inside her as she catches her breath.
He moves them to her bed, pulling out of her when he lays her down over the covers. There's a new wetness between her legs, evidence of the sinful things they've just done to each other, but she's too lazy to move and clean up, spent from the earth-shattering pleasure she's just experienced.
Robin is a noble man, though, and in his typical I-want-to-take-care-of-you-Regina way, he's moving to the washbasin by her table, taking the cloth draped over it and submerging it in the water.
When he comes back to her, he runs the cool, wet cloth over her thighs, cleans away the bits of him leaking out of her, and Regina is simply too relaxed to protest the intimacy of the action.
He throws the rag beside the basin (Regina makes a mental note to remove that with magic later, no need for the castle maids to deal with that), and then walks awkwardly to her bed, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck nervously.
"I, um... I guess I should be going."
A stab of pain punctures her very soul at his words, but she refuses to acknowledge it.
It must show on her face, though, because when he looks at her, that anxious hand moves down from his neck and runs softly over her arm.
"Unless you'd like me to stay?" he asks tentatively.
"I don't care. Do whatever you want," she says with an uninterested shrug, but it's a front and they both know it.
He walks cautiously to the other side of the bed, and crawls over the covers until he's lying there next to her. His hand finds her arm again, one finger curving and running up and over her shoulder, to her neck and then her face, caressing her cheek with feather-like touch.
It's too much. Makes too many feelings swirl in her, so she turns away from him, lying on her side and staring at the moon shining just outside her window.
"Sorry," he says, sounding so dejected that it has her sighing.
"It's fine," she tells him, making sure her voice is level and kind.
She'll dwell on her need to comfort him later. Right now she just wants to feel him fall asleep beside her, and that can't happen if he's apprehensive about how he should behave.
His hand is back on her then, drifting slowly up her back and over her shoulder, then down again to her waist and holding there as he shifts closer, until the warmth of his chest is pressed into her back, and his breaths are a soothing rhythmic song in her ear.
She pretends to be asleep for the kiss he places on her head, pretends to be asleep for the soft, "I wish we could have this all the time," he whispers into her hair. She pretends to be asleep until sleep really does come, and she sinks into it gladly, feeling safe and content for the first time in a long time.
When she wakes up, she's still naked as a jaybird, alone in her bed, burrowed under covers she doesn't remember using last night. He's gone, and Regina can't help but smile when her eyes find the gift he's left behind.
There, on her night table, is her basket, replenished with red berries just waiting to be turned into pie...