OQ Artist Appreciation Week - Day 7: Pick a piece of art from one of your favorite OQ artists and write a fic around it.
For Jen (starscythe), who is not only a wonderful friend, but also a light in this fandom who always single-handedly organizes events to show us OQ writers all the love, and who also constantly creates gorgeous graphics, manips and projects for us to enjoy, and deserves all the love and appreciation for it.
This is based on one of my favorite manips Jen has ever done, you can find the image on my Twitter and Tumblr posts about this story.
PS: There will possibly be a part 2 coming up for this one, so keep an eye out for that =)
The world turns with the tide, and the city breathes in the ocean waves, salt water filling the canals that circle mighty walls.
Round and round they go, carrying clear blue throughout, a blessing from Poseidon that stems all the way from the Pillars of Hercules and bestows the sea god's grace upon the island. The sun shines high up in the sky, giving life to the crystal beneath the rock, waking Atlantis to a new day.
Regina loves mornings like this one. Loves to watch the sunlight dancing over the water, loves to feel the air move through the billowy blue fabric of her chiton, its gold detailing shimmering in the light as her long tresses join in the flow of the wind.
She's in the agora near the sun gardens, and it's a fresh morning, one where the air is crisp, and cool, and smells of salt and rain that won't fall until sunset. The bustle of the city is drowned by the sounds of the waves as they crash on the shore, seagulls feasting on sardines just off the coast. Perfect.
It's all so beautiful that Regina can almost forget the one thing that doesn't fit in her picture of calm. The man currently staring at her from across the way.
He's not from around here. She knows that much. Has spent quite some time amongst her subjects to know their faces (she's always in disguise, of course, lest the king find out she's been mingling with the peasantry). His is definitely not a face she knows. She would've remembered him. And she tells herself it's not because he's incredibly handsome, but because she's the queen of Atlantis, and as such, she can tell who is a local and who isn't. They are a small kingdom, after all. Foreigners tend to stand out.
Regina knows her people, knows their lives, their families, their struggles. Has even made friends with some of them, friends who know who she is, who are discreet about the bruises that mark her skin, friends who seek to stop new blemishes from forming, and thus give her a place to hide on the nights when Leopold has had too much to drink.
So no, this man is not amongst the regular subjects of Atlantis. Even his features are foreign. There are loose waves of light brown in place of the dark curls of her people, and sunkissed skin and flushed cheeks instead of the smooth, even-toned complexion of those used to a life of comfort.
He's different. Rougher. And yet there's a softness in the ocean blue of his eyes, a tenderness when he hands an apple to a child walking by, that she can't help but feel drawn to.
He catches her staring, this stranger, and she'd be making an excuse and scurrying off if his smile hadn't taken her breath away. There are two little indents, one on each cheek, that add a certain boyish charm to his polite Good morning, my lady, and Regina doesn't exactly have time to make her excuses and leave before he's walking towards her, one hand extended as he bows his head and offers his name.
"I'm Robin."
"Regina," she stammers, too distracted by his boldness to remember to supply her fake name, Kida.
But he's new here, he won't know her name, so the panic subsides just a bit, just enough for her to answer his chipper Lovely morning, isn't it? with a pleased, "Indeed, it is."
"I've heard of this place, but never expected it to be so...beautiful," he tells her, and it's during that pause before that last word that his eyes shift from the view of the city to her face, alluding a compliment Regina doesn't necessarily think she deserves.
If he could see the marks on her skin under her chiton, he wouldn't be saying such things.
Not that he can say anything at all, anyway, she's the queen, she's off limits to him and every other such suitor.
But it's like she can't help talking to him, can't help enjoying the attention he gives her, the way his eyes roam over her face, drinking her in as he asks her what she's up to this morning.
"Just taking a stroll," she answers. "As you said, it's a lovely day."
He's smiling at her again, showcasing those dimples that make her body react far more than it probably should to something so common, and Regina feels her cheeks flush, feels the warmth of them and tries to look away.
"I never cared much for Poseidon," he tells her. And at her indignantly raised eyebrow, he adds, "Not sure sending a cataclysmic flood to Athens in a tantrum makes for a decent god."
She laughs at that, nods her head almost imperceptibly, but defends the patron of Atlantis with a haughty, "They rejected his divine gift of the sea in favor of Athena's flimsy olive tree. He had a right to be angry at them."
"Remind me to never turn down a gift from you," Robin jokes then, and Regina chuckles with him.
"I suppose it's better this way," she tells him then. "If he'd been chosen as the patron of Athens, we probably wouldn't even exist."
She gestures towards the city as she speaks, towards the life unfolding before them, and Robin smiles at her, tells her, "I'd imagine it would be quite a dreadful world, without such beauty."
He's talking about the kingdom. He must be. But once more he's looking intently at her as he speaks, making Regina doubt what —or who— the word is truly intended for.
"You said you've... heard of Atlantis," she converses, trying to deviate her attention from the way his muscled arms catch the light. "Where are you from, exactly?"
"Neapolis," he supplies, and ah, a Thracian, then. Interesting. "Not quite as beautiful as this place, but I do love it there."
"I've never been," Regina admits, her interest piquing as he tells her maybe she will someday.
"I'd be happy to give you a tour, if you're ever in town," he says good-naturedly.
"Just as long as you're not expecting me to do the same with you," Regina fires back, admiring the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs.
"No tour necessary," he assures her, adding, "but I wouldn't turn down a chance to speak to you further, if you're willing? It's not often I find myself enthralled by someone's company so quickly."
She grows nervous at that, because she wants this. She wants a carefree moment with a man who doesn't know who she is and what her life is like, a man who is very clearly interested in her.
But the king... he'll be told if she goes missing. He'll... he'll find her and then...
"I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment," she admits, her face falling in time with his.
"How about tonight?" he asks her then, this Robin, eyes sparkling with hope as they stare into hers, and Regina can't help herself.
"What do you have in mind?" she prods, and if her eyes roam his figure appreciatively, well, who can blame her?
"I'm staying at the little inn two blocks away, the owner is a rather ferocious woman—"
"The Wolf's Den," Regina supplies, "I know it. Granny —that's how she likes to be called, by the way— she's a friend."
She doesn't tell him how she knows the old woman. Doesn't tell him that the salve she sometimes uses to soothe the marks Leopold leaves on her body comes from Granny's own kitchens.
"Frightening creature," Robin admits, "but quite respectable, wouldn't you say?"
"She's a tough one," Regina agrees.
The conversation hits a lull then, and she takes advantage of the silence and of his far-off look to take him in more clearly. He really is quite attractive. His skin has a bronzy glow, probably from spending too much time under the sun. His hands are calloused and rough from what appears to be years of hard work, and the age lines on his face somehow accentuate how handsome he is, rather than deter it.
"So... the inn?" she prompts, and it seems to shake him from whatever world his mind has run off to.
He looks back at her then, looking a little startled as he answers, "Right, the inn, you said you know it?"
"I do."
"Do you by any chance also know the tavern right next to it?"
She nods, curious, and tries to stop the little stutter her heart gives when he bites into his smile and asks her, "I'll be there tonight, if you care for a drink?"
Regina takes a second to think about it. Her husband is leaving this morning for a quiet retreat in the summer palace (and by retreat, he means a bit of whoring and yet more drinking, she's sure). It's earned her a respite for the next few days, and the rebelliousness of using her short-lived freedom to have a drink with a stranger in a tavern thrills her.
"Hmm" she offers, "I'll think on it."
She starts to walk away, sandaled feet pushing slowly into the dirt as she heads to the sun gardens, but Robin calls out to her suddenly, a somewhat urgent Milady! that amuses her.
"Yes?" she asks, looking at him over her shoulder.
"If you choose not to go," he starts, waiting until she turns fully before he takes her hand in his. "I'd just like to say... it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Was it?" Regina flirts, unable to help the smirk that colors her words. "And here I thought you'd forget me by lunch time."
He catches on quickly, smiles back at her and brings her hand to his lips.
"You've brightened my world with your beauty and your wit," he admits, right before he plants a soft kiss over her knuckles, "I doubt I'd ever forget meeting you."
He winks at her then, and Regina wants to tell him that yes, she'll meet him tonight, will do whatever it takes to have another moment like this one, but instead she simply nods, withdraws her hand from his grasp, and walks on.
And try as she might throughout the day, Regina cannot shake the tingling echo of his lips pressing against her skin.
Nightfall finds her weaving through pillars and corridors. Leopold has left guards to stalk her every move, but they are lazy men, men she's escaped from before. So when dinnertime came, she'd begged off by claiming a headache, and locked herself up in her chambers to "rest until it's gone."
Once the guards had stood watch for an hour, they'd gone down to drown themselves in wine, and Regina had jumped out of her window and onto the canvas roof of the ground-floor terrace, sliding down until her feet hit the grass.
It's tricky, getting out of the castle, but she's done it so many times now that she's mastered the skill perfectly. There's a hallway that leads to one of the servants' entrances off to the side, and getting to that hallway is easy enough, cloaked in darkness as she is.
It doesn't take her long to leave the palace grounds, and then she runs, the hem of her tunic whipping against her ankles, the cold night air spurring her on. Loud ocean waves crash against the rocks on the shore in time with the beating of her heart, and it's with that thump, thump, thump marking her every step that she makes her way to the tavern, only to pause at its door, her pulse pounding in her ears.
There he is, just as he said he would be, a brass cup of cheap wine in hand as he laughs heartily with his men. Regina watches him for what feels like an eternity, head almost pressed into the glass of the tavern window, people filing in and out in twos and threes while the door swings and creaks.
What she notices most in her time of observation, is how his eyes keep shifting away from his companions, how he turns down the attentions of three pretty barmaids that fall onto his lap. He's distracted, keeps zoning out of the merriment every few seconds in order to anxiously steal glances at the door, stretching his neck and torso to get a better look. When he doesn't find what he's seeking, he deflates. Every single time, he deflates, turns back to his friends and rejoins their conversation with a defeated drop of his shoulders.
He's waiting for her, Regina realizes, is worried that she won't show, and somehow that eases her nerves, even makes her grin a bit as she finally takes a deep breath and walks inside.
The look on his face when he finally lays eyes on her is... well, absolutely adorable. His smile lights up, his shoulders rise from their sad little hunch, and he leaves the table immediately, walking towards her and offering his hand.
Regina takes it without hesitation, feels those little tingles in her belly when he kisses her knuckles again.
"I was beginning to think I'd imagined you," he says, "I'm glad I was wrong."
"One drink," Regina warns him, but she's smiling back at him, maybe a little seductively, warmth spreading through her as he rakes his gaze down her body and back up.
"One drink," he agrees, and then leads her to the bar, signaling for two cups of wine to be served.
Regina doesn't touch hers, not yet. Merely watches as he raises his to her health, winking right before he takes a sip and deposits the cup back on the table, his hand resting there as well, so close to hers they could touch if she moved her fingers just a breath to the right.
"Thank you," she tells him, smiling politely as she looks around the tavern. "This is rather... quaint."
"I know it might not be the best place for someone like you, but—" Robin starts, and Regina's indignant response is out before she can help it.
"Someone like me?" she snaps.
"You're clearly highborn," he explains, gesturing to the crowd around them as he adds, "and far more refined than any of these poor slobs."
"They are Atlanteans, no less than you or me. It is not my choice to stay away from my people, I assure you."
He's hit a nerve, and she can't shake it, can't shake the little bead of anger that his misconception plants in her, but he rushes to apologize, finally cuts that little space between their hands and takes hers between both of his. She tenses a bit, but doesn't pull away, entranced as she is by the warmth of his grip.
"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he says, sounding truly contrite, "I didn't mean to upset you."
Regina sighs then, shakes her head and squeezes his fingers where they hold hers.
"No, I'm sorry, I know that's not what you meant, I just— did you just call me 'Your Majesty'?"
He smiles sheepishly then, but doesn't answer, only watches her, waiting.
"How did you know?" she asks him then, and Robin exhales slowly, their hands untangling as he moves one of his to push his hair back, one stray lock falling over his eyes. And how on earth does that make him even more attractive, she wonders?
"I had my suspicions this morning, I caught a glimpse of the mark of the royals under your bracelet," he admits, moving his hand back to hers and dipping under her gold cuff, swirling over the crescent-shaped birthmark on the inside of her wrist. "I'm not from here, so I wasn't sure if the symbol was the correct one, as I'm not exactly familiar with it, but... you called them your people just now. That confirmed it."
"Oh," is all she can say, her mind screaming the question of how she could be so stupid, so careless, so—
"Your secret is safe with me, Regina," he adds then, interrupting her self-deprecating thoughts with a reassuring squeeze of his hand over hers. "I don't mean to cause you trouble, all I wanted was a chance to get to know you better."
"Why would you risk that? You've no doubt heard of the king's reputation, why would you—"
"Because I like you," he says simply. "I meant what I said this morning, you brightened up my world from the moment I saw you."
"I'm the queen, I'm married. You shouldn't be saying these things to me."
"Apologies, milady, but I think deep down you enjoy that I'm saying these things to you."
"What makes you think you know me so well?" she asks haughtily.
"Well, for one thing, I'd be charred to a crisp by now, if you didn't," he quips, making her laugh, and it seems he has an uncanny ability for that, for lightening the moment, for providing her with carefree amusement during their conversations. They've only had two of those so far and she hasn't stopped smiling throughout them.
"Ah, you've heard the tales of my powers, then," she replies. She comes from a long line of powerful witches, acolytes of Poseidon who were given abilities to control the elements. But other than her intuitive nature and being handy with a sword on occasion, Regina has yet to exhibit any such powers.
Not that it stops the gossips from visiting kingdoms, of course.
"I have," he admits. "The evil queen, they call you. But, from this angle, the evil moniker seems somewhat of an overstatement. Bold and audacious perhaps, but... not evil."
He's flirting with her. She is a married woman, married to a king no less, and he is flirting with her.
And what's worse, she likes it.
"So... first time in Atlantis. Business or pleasure?" she asks, pretending not to notice the way her voice has gone low and intimate.
"Business... for now," Robin answers, his eyes devouring her, his tongue licking his lips just as Regina does the same with hers. "I'm always up for an adventure."
"Right. Adventure," she says with a mocking roll of her eyes.
He gives a breathy chuckle in answer, and then his hand is back on her wrist, swirling fingertips over her skin in tickling little patterns as he tells her, "I quite enjoy having the freedom to choose my adventures, yes."
Regina deflates at that, and she doesn't mean for him to hear the wistful Must be nice she lets out, but he picks up on it all the same.
"It is," he confirms, "I'm a simple merchant, Your Majesty—"
"Regina," she cuts in. "Please, just... call me Regina."
"Regina," even the way her name rolls off his tongue is seductive, and that hand of his is still playfully caressing her own as he tells her, "I spend my days moving goods from one boat to another. Fish, mostly. It's hard work. Often stinky work, but I'm free. I wasn't always so."
She wants to prod, wants him to tell her his life's story, but he launches into it without prompting. He tells her about his younger days, when he'd become a thief known throughout all of Thrace. He could escape anything, he boasts, and found great satisfaction in taking riches from the nobles and handing them to the poorest citizens of Neapolis.
"That's... oddly honorable, for a thief," she compliments, and Robin smiles his thanks.
"Unfortunately, after a few years of that, I finally fell into a trap I could not get out of. I was forced into slavery for ten years, to repay with labor what I had stolen. My masters were ruthless, but I survived, and after that decade, I was allowed to return home a free man, only I had no money, so I secured this job, and have been attempting an honest life ever since."
They talk a little more, discuss their hopes and dreams, their families, their childhoods. She feels more and more attracted to this man by the minute, and he seems to follow along, to craft certain responses in ways that will make her laugh or blush or throw a cheeky comment his way.
Regina doesn't mind one bit.
A wooden board full of crusty psomi, feta and grilled figs is laid out before them, and Robin smiles and thanks the barmaid. Regina recognizes her after a moment, and they wave timidly to one another.
"Wasn't expecting to see you here, Kida," Ruby says, and Robin raises a curious eyebrow at them.
"Kida?" he mouths.
"It's alright, Ruby," Regina tells the woman. "He knows."
Realization dawns on both of them at the same time, their expressions almost comically similar.
"I see," Ruby says with a satisfied little grin, then places a small pot of honey by their platter, and tells Robin she grilled the figs with a bit of rosemary oil this time instead of olive, Just to change things up a bit.
"Splendid," he commends, "Ruby here makes the best grilled figs, it's all I've eaten since I got here. I can never get enough."
"Does Granny know you've been stealing her figs, Ruby?" Regina smirks, because she knows that Granny will not take kindly to her produce being sold at the tavern without her consent.
"Oh, Granny loves Robin, and I only make those figs for him. She won't mind," Ruby tells her smugly, prompting Regina to look back at him.
"I thought you said you were scared of her," she accuses mockingly.
"I am!" Robin defends, "But I also admire her quite a bit. We've had some very pleasant chats."
"And his men have the inn all booked up for the first time in months, she's very happy about that," Ruby tacks on. And yes, Regina supposes, a prosperous business and good conversation will certainly secure you a place in Granny's good graces.
She suspects his unbelievably good looks help with that, too.
Ruby is called away by one of Robin's men, and she hollers at him —John is his name, apparently— that she'll be right there.
"I'll leave you guys to it," she says, leaning close to whisper conspiratorially in Robin's ear, "Show the queen a good time, alright? She's the heart of this kingdom, you know."
Regina blushes, and her eyes lock with Robin's, his next words moving her to her core.
"I've known that from the moment I met her," he replies to a retreating Ruby, who pauses for a moment to look back at them over her shoulder, giving Regina a soft smile. Trust him, that smile tells her, he's one of the good ones.
When they're alone again, Robin wastes no time, and tilts the pot of honey over the figs and drizzles a generous amount over them.
"Alright. Are you ready for the best grilled figs in all of Atlantis?" he announces, and Regina laughs.
"How do you know they're the best in the whole kingdom? You've only been here a few days," she teases.
"Oh, believe me, I know," he replies. "Here, try one."
He's placed the honey pot back on the counter, and is now holding one of those figs in his hand, raising it close to her mouth and offering it to her.
It's not necessarily graceful, and when she leans in and takes a bite off the fruit, the juice of it dribbles down her chin, staining her chiton. He's right, though, it's delicious, and she lets out a pleased Mmm that for some reason makes him shift a little in his seat and close his eyes for a moment.
When he opens them again, they're a shade darker, his mouth slightly open as his tongue peeks out to lick his bottom lip.
Oh.
Oh... that's... well...
She swallows the morsel, using her hands to wipe at her chin, trying to remove the evidence of the sloppy bite.
"Wait," he tells her, his hand moving slowly towards her face. Regina doesn't stop its advance, but stays perfectly still when he thumbs a drop of honey from the corner of her lips, his lustful eyes intent on hers.
And then he brings that thumb to his mouth, sucking away that drop of sweetness, and she has to resist the urge to Mmm again for very, very different reasons.
She's married. She's the queen. This is sinful, it's wrong.
It's absolutely divine.
She breaks eye contact first, looking down at their food as she grabs a piece of the bread (bread is safe, she tells herself, there is nothing arousing about eating bread) and chews on it.
Robin clears his throat, and then follows her lead, opting for a bit of feta this time, another deep swig of his wine. He asks her about her favorite parts of the city, helping them jump back into easy conversation, and the moment passes.
His friends eventually leave the tavern, teasing him with loud whistles and inappropriate hooting, yet Robin chooses to stay. For her.
But it is getting late, and while Regina is thoroughly enjoying his company, she really should get back before her guards realize she's escaped the palace.
"I should probably head out now, as well," she tells him, sounding as crestfallen as he looks when she says the words. "The king... he's out of town, if his guards find out I'm gone..."
She doesn't exactly know why she's hinting at her husband's unkind nature, why she's sending Robin that thinly veiled cry for help when she knows no one can help her, but he's talking again, revealing a truth Regina seldom admits to herself.
"It must be excruciating for you to be a prisoner of your own title."
Tears spring to her eyes before she can stop them, and he apologizes, brushing one stray drop from her cheek as she composes herself.
"I'm sorry I keep upsetting you," he pleads. "It is not my intention to cause you pain."
"No," she insists, wiping the rest of her tears away quickly and sniffling a bit. "No, you've... I like talking to you."
Their hands have shifted, and now it's her fingers drawing patterns on his palm, her eyes focusing on the motions as silence falls between them.
"I should go," she says again, dropping her hand and actually getting up this time.
"Allow me to walk you home," he insists, rising with her.
"No," Regina stops him, shaking her head vehemently as she explains, "The guards, if they catch us—"
"I spent many years learning how to rob without being seen," he excuses, his hands taking hers and squeezing in reassurance. "All will be well. Please. Let me walk you."
It could mean her life if they're caught. What's more, it could mean his, but she has grown addicted to his touch, to the way his eyes get lost on hers as he murmurs another Please, Regina.
When he adds, "I don't want this night to be over," she finds herself nodding.
They walk hand in hand, keeping to the darker, less crowded streets as they trace her way back, only stopping when they reach the palace grounds.
"I must continue alone from here," she tells him, resting her back against the outermost stone wall of the royal gardens. "But thank you. For everything."
"Can I see you again?" is his reply, his eyes sparkling and intense as they look her over, as if drinking their fill of her.
"Robin," she warns.
"It's dangerous, I know," he acknowledges, voicing her thoughts before she does. "I know it's crazy to even attempt it, and I know how much we're both risking if we do this again, but l... I feel... drawn to you. I want..."
He doesn't tell her what he wants, rather amends his speech and tells her, "I know what it's like to feel trapped, to constantly look over your shoulder, and I don't know what hold the king has over you but I do know that whatever it is, you don't deserve to live like this."
She gasps at that, but he's still talking, his voice falling to a whisper.
"You deserve a respite from the pressures of your royal duties, and if I may be so bold, I'd like to be that respite, if you let me."
"What do you mean?" she questions, her curiosity piqued.
"I want you to be free with me, Regina, in whatever way you choose. Free to talk, to cry, eat, run, to scream if that's what you desire. I want—"
She'll never know what that last sentence was supposed to be, because before he can utter it, she's on him, grabbing fistfuls of his tunic and pulling him to her, his body pressing her warmly against the wall when her mouth crashes against his.
His lips are heaven. Soft and fast and perfect. And he tastes of wine and honey, a combination that intoxicates her in the best of ways.
When he licks at the seam of her lips, and she grants him entrance, the sensation of his tongue against hers has her finally letting out that moan she'd had to contain at the tavern earlier, has her pressing closer, using her grip on his clothes for leverage as she stands on her tiptoes and kisses harder.
He answers her moan with one of his, pulls back to gasp a needy Regina before his lips are back on hers, sucking at her lower one, teeth biting into it and pulling it into his mouth, where his tongue licks to soothe the sting.
Regina cannot get enough, breathes in the scent of him, of pine and salt water, a perfect contrast to the decadent sweetness of the honey on his tongue, the bitter bouquet of the wine still on his lips. Her mouth is desperate, hungry for him, and she kisses and kisses and kisses him, surrendering to the desperate roaming of his hands over her sides, whimpering when he presses her tighter into the wall and she can feel the evidence of his arousal pushing against her thigh. He wants her, and the knowledge makes her feel powerful, beautiful, something she hasn't felt in a very, very long time.
"Robin," she rasps, and he grunts as he pulls out of the kiss, ducking to kiss her neck, lavishing his tongue over her skin and sucking at her pulse point a little harder when she moans loudly at the action.
Her own hands have moved now, nails raking up and down his back and digging into his shoulders as his mouth latches back on to hers. She sucks at his upper lip, and sucks hard, smiling a little at the needy groan that tumbles out of him. She lets the tip of her tongue tease over his, and wraps her arms around his neck when his hands roam down her back and grasp her rear.
"Exquisite," he mutters into the kiss, kneading the swell and rolling his hips against hers.
Regina moans loudly at the sensation, a high-pitched Oh! escaping her before she dives back in, her tongue savoring him, exploring his mouth and committing the taste of him to memory.
The kiss is incredible, sends pleasant little electric shocks throughout her body, her very skin coming alive under his touch. The cold night breeze hits her neck, cooling the dampness left behind by Robin's tongue, making Regina shiver in his hold. It's pleasure and danger and freedom combined, the thrill of adventure coloring every movement, every pass of his tongue against hers.
They break for air, breaths shallow and quick as they look at each other for a moment, with nothing but the moon to light their view. Robin leans in slowly, his eyes closing when she lands a quick peck on the tip of his nose, head lifting so he can respond by dotting a tender kiss on her brow.
"Does this mean I get to see you again, then?" he asks lazily. "Maybe we can actually share a drink this time."
"We had wine," she tells him, her voice low and relaxed.
"I had wine," he corrects, "you didn't touch yours."
Huh. Interesting. She hadn't realized that until now.
"I was... distracted," she teases, and he Mhmms and kisses her lips softly in response.
"In any case," he tells her, the tip of his nose traveling down the bridge of hers in a gentle caress, "you still owe me that drink."
Her eyes are closed, but she can hear the smile in his words, the infectious mischief of this forbidden encounter making her grin back at him.
"Yes, I suppose I do," she admits, their lips meeting again for a giddy smooch.
He lets her go, then, breathing her in for a moment before he steps back and allows her to walk onwards, their arms stretching, hands holding until the distance no longer allows it.
She leaves him there, and makes it back to her chambers just in time to throw a snarky remark at one of the guards for knocking and "interrupting her rest."
The ocean waves are loud, louder than usual, the wind almost howling in the night, and it soothes her, calms the rapid thumping of her heart as she thinks back to the wonderful experiences she's had tonight.
She's flirting with danger, she knows that. But being with Robin tonight was... the closest she's ever been to happy. She wants more of that, wants to know how it feels to be with a man who truly wants her for her, not for her crown, a man who takes pleasure in her body and her mind in equal measure...
He understands her, wants her, and it's as beautiful and thrilling as it is scary.
But she'll think of the consequences later. After. For now, she'll take this, take the chance to feel free for a change.
Regina goes to bed with a smile on her face, excited for the possibilities of tomorrow.