For OQ Fix-It Week Day 6 - Roni Day.
Rated M (also unedited so please forgive the mistakes)
She shouldn't have hired him.
He'd walked in here, stealing her bourbon during his interview, with those dimples and those eyes and that accent that just adds to how sexy he is, and she'd known hiring him was a bad idea. But god, she's been slaving away at this bar for the past three months, she needs the help, and can you really blame her for getting help that's easy on the eyes?
He's... not the best bartender, really. In fact he seems quite new at this, spills drinks often and can't keep track of orders during rush times, but he is persistent, and Roni admires that in a person. She admires how much he flirts with her, too, how his eyes linger on her face when they talk, like he's been searching the world for her.
She likes that, likes the way he looks at her. Maybe a little too much.
So yes, hiring Robin was a very bad idea. Does she regret it? Not in the least.
Especially not when he's kissing her the way he is now, his hands keeping her pinned against the wall as his lips get lost in her neck, sucking at sensitive spots she hadn't even realized she had. It's like he knows her body better than she does, and that's silly, isn't it? That he seems more in tune with her desires than she is herself, but it works, makes her moan and gasp and devour his lips when he brings them back up and against her own.
Hozier's Sedated acts as a low-volume soundtrack to this little tryst. Just a little rush, babe, the song goes, and yes, that's exactly what this is, what Robin is; a drug, a rush of pleasure that she's quickly becoming addicted to. A bad idea considering this will be a one-time thing.
He bites her lip then, swirls his tongue deliciously over hers, and oh, who is she kidding? This will definitely be a many-times thing.
I've missed you she hears him whisper, and that jars her, has her stopping for a second, looking up at him with a curious frown, her lust making everything hazy as she asks, "What did you just say?"
"Nothing," he says with a shake of his head, diving back in and kissing her again. And well, that's fine with her. What does it matter what he said, when he's putting that tongue to better use?
He's back on her neck, and she's panting as his lips suck a trail of kisses down and over her shoulder, one hand holding her tight at the waist while the other is buried in her hair, playing with curls he's expressed his admiration for plenty of times since they met.
Roni lets out a little Mmm when he scrapes his teeth gently over her jawline, little nibbles that set her ablaze before he's on her lips again, tongue plunging in and tasting her own in a wild dance that makes her feel alive for the first time in... well, ever, it seems.
It occurs to her that she shouldn't be doing this at her place of business. At the bar she owns and is trying so hard to keep afloat. But god, it's been so long since she's been touched like this, desired like this, that she can't stop. Bar's closed for the night anyway, she might as well enjoy this.
Tangling a hand in his hair, Roni pulls his head back, and licks up his neck before kissing him again, enjoying the view of his lips smudged in the dark nude stain she'd applied on hers this morning. Robin's hand pulls on her hair gently, just enough to keep that passion going, and it feels good, so good. Roni can't believe they've ended up here (not that she's surprised), but now she wonders why she didn't do this a few decades ago, why she's only just now met this man that is doing such delicious things to her body with his own.
It's funny how they ended up here. She'd playfully accused him of pillaging her booze when she'd caught him doing a shot of bourbon after close, and he'd flirted back as he looked her over and took another shot.
"You knew I was a thief when you met me," he'd teased. And something about that phrase, about the way he'd smirked as he said it, her sparked this... thing inside her, this feeling she can't quite shake.
It's a feeling of want. Of desperate need to have him near, and just for tonight, Roni has decided to indulge.
"What else are you planning to steal, I wonder?" she'd quipped, leaning her crossed arms over the bar counter that had been separating them. "The tip jar?"
"My pursuits lie beyond an old till and a few dollars, milady," he'd whispered in reply as he'd grabbed the cloth by the sink and dried his now washed shot glass.
"Is that so?" she'd asked, going around the bar and saddling up right next to him. Their faces were so close, and she'd known then where it was going, had somehow known exactly what he was going to ask for, like there was some connection between them she couldn't quite put her finger on.
"Mmhmm," he'd nodded. "A kiss, perhaps, from the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."
And how could she say no to that?
He's sucking at a very delicate spot on her neck now, adding little licks over the sensitive skin to rile her up even more, and Roni loves this, loves how he feels, how familiarized his body seems to be with hers. He knows just where to touch, just how to touch, and everything feels... incredible.
One kiss, she'd told him. It was one kiss, nothing else, but this chemistry, this... fire she feels with him, it's impossible to shake. And so she's ended up here, pressed against the wall with her leg hiked over his waist, now, his hand grasping at her thigh to keep her in place as he grinds his hips against her. She can feel him, hard and wanting through his jeans, and it makes her want to rip off that tempting blue V-neck shirt he's wearing, the soft fabric now a cumbersome barrier rather than a perfect frame for the muscles in his arms.
And because she's indulging, because she wants this, Roni goes ahead and peels the thing away from his body.
He's toned, and strong, and solid against her, his skin warm to the touch. She takes a moment to run a hand down his torso, fingers tracing his abs before she grabs him and crashes their mouths together again.
"I want you," she rasps, then sinks her teeth into his bottom lip and pulls it back to her, sucking away the sting before she licks and kisses him some more.
He's panting when he stops, his forehead landing on hers as he tries to catch his breath and tells her, "I... I don't know if we should."
Oh.
Well... that's... that's not what she'd expected.
He's moving away from her then, one hand at his waist while the other runs up and down over the back of his neck, a frustrated breath leaving him as he turns and looks at her.
"Fuck, you look so beautiful right now," he says, like it angers him that she's somehow irresistible to him. Roni doesn't understand what's stopping him, but respects his wish and stays just where she is, asking only Did I do something...?
"No! God, no. You're... you're bloody perfect, and stunning, and I want you, too. So much, Regina, but—"
"My name is Roni," she corrects, anger starting to boil inside her at being confused with someone else. Does he really have that many conquests that he can't keep their names in check?
"No, it's not," he insists. "That's the problem."
"I'm not sure I follow," she tells him sincerely, because what is he even talking about?
"I..." he lets out a frustrated huff, then tries to find the words to continue. "I know it's hard to understand but I just..." and then he sighs, shakes his head, and settles on, "Forget it, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Let's just say... you're not yourself."
"What makes you think you know me so well?" she fires back, curious now.
He chuckles at that, shakes his head, and simply says, "Someday you'll understand how ironic it is that you just said that."
Okay, he's drunk. He has to be. She'd tasted no alcohol on him, though, other than maybe the remnants of those two shots he'd just stolen, which makes her think maybe he's been sneaking more than just sips of her Herradura Silver.
"Robin, are you high?" she asks, serious this time, "Because I won't have that in my bar."
He laughs, tells her no, he's not on drugs, and fine, she may as well get this over with.
"If you didn't want this you could've just said no," she says offhandedly, inwardly congratulating herself on not letting the sting of his rejection show on her face. "No need for this fake brain fog skit you're trying to sell."
"I'm not lying," he defends.
"Hate to break it to you, babe," Roni throws back, "but you're not that good an actor."
He's trying to explain himself, babbling again about memories and strange things she has no time to listen to, so instead she cuts him off with a nonchalant "Just tell me you don't want me, Robin. I'm a big girl, I can take it. We can just move on and pretend none of this ever happened."
He walks determinedly toward her then, takes her in his arms and kisses her fiercely, and Roni can't resist that pull, can't resist the urge to taste him again, to feel the way he sucks at her lip, the way he moans lowly when she gasps her surprise.
"I'm not acting. There's nothing I want more in this or any world than you," he insists when they part, his hands cradling her face, and Roni can't help but believe him, even as he tells her "But this isn't who you are."
"Then show me," she challenges, her hand rising to wrap around his wrist, noses brushing together. She kisses the tip of his, then tightens her grip on his wrist and moves that hand to her breast, gasping when they give it a gentle squeeze together. And then she defies him once more, hovers her mouth over his and says again, "Show me who I am."
He moans, and obeys.
It's funny how curses work.
Even without her memories, she's still bold, audacious, and every bit the woman he fell in love with years ago. Irresistible and fiery as ever, with that hidden softness Robin always prided himself on finding with well-placed kisses and words of love.
And she's standing here before him now, unable to remember who they are to each other, and still she wants him, kisses him with bravado and pulls on the hair at the nape of his neck the way he likes, and he has to hope that the action is due to her body remembering him even if her mind can't.
As if to prove him right, her teeth sink into his bottom lip in that way that makes him moan and grip her tighter every time, and the whimper she gives him in return is new, but the way her body molds to his isn't. She's spice and smoke and all his, and she wants him.
"Come on, thief," Roni teases, biting into her smirk as she pushes away from the wall and walks slowly backwards, looking him up and down as her rear hits the counter's edge, hands splaying along the smooth wooden surface behind her. "Let's see what you can do."
Robin smiles, and is there in seconds, losing himself in the column of her throat even as he kicks his shoes off haphazardly. He revels in her, kisses her skin and delights in the way she reacts to him. It thrills him to know that the pull is still there, that she desires him in any world, cursed or not.
When his hands fall on her rear, she jumps into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing against him tightly, her breasts flush against his chest as her mouth kisses a wet trail over his neck. He's hard, has been wanting her for so long that just kissing her has him stiff and solid and ready. He's been trying to fight it, to avoid putting them in a situation like this, because he wants his soulmate back, doesn't want it to be Roni making the decision to go through with this, but Regina.
That had been a pipe dream. He should've known he wouldn't be able to stay away.
Roni is... casual, lighter somehow, unburdened by Regina's tortured past. She's less proper, less bothered by manners and decorum. She's more comfortable in her skin, more in tune with her adventurous side, but he can still detect that same pinch of loneliness that drew Robin to a reformed evil queen in the Enchanted Forest all those years ago. He only wishes he could bring her back.
But she doesn't love him, doesn't know him. So as good as these kisses are, they're not true love just yet.
That's alright, he can wait. And in the meantime he'll indulge in the enticing scrape of her teeth over his shoulder; the wet, sucking kisses she uses to draw a random path on his chest when he finally loses his shirt.
He hears the loud clunk of her boots landing somewhere behind him, but he's too busy kissing her to care where. He relishes the way she rasps his name, familiar, yet different, and gives her ass a good squeeze that has her unraveling a little more, her mouth almost desperate against his, her kisses hard and hot and absolutely spectacular.
"Fucking exquisite," he mutters into her neck, when his mouth veers away from hers to kiss whatever parts of her he can reach. His arms heave, lifting her just a tiny bit higher, and then he's slamming her on the countertop, letting go so his arms can sweep away the cocktail shaker and a couple of empty shot glasses he hadn't picked up while closing earlier. Regina moans, fists her hand into his T-shirt and pulls him roughly against her, her other hand immediately seeking out his erection over his jeans as she kisses him yet again.
It's wild, and wet, and amazing. Everything he's been missing for a number of years.
He almost says it again, almost gasps a delighted Regina when she sucks hard at his lower lip, but catches himself just in time, kissing her back deeply and silencing his need to call her by her true name.
They both get rid of their socks at the same time (she's faster, though, has them off and thrown over her head so swiftly she has time to watch him take his off and chuckle). His hands make quick work of the button on her jeans, the tight fabric peeling off her as he drags it down her legs. She leans heavily on her hands atop the counter and lifts her hips so he can get rid of the offending garment altogether.
She has no bra, and her top is a tight, light gray thing trimmed in black, arms and chest exposed to him, her nipples tight and visible through the fabric. He groans, and moves his hand to her breast, teasing one pert peak with his thumb as he dives back in to kiss her.
"Off," she huffs, pulling on his belt, and together they undo it rather quickly, fingers fumbling but getting the job done regardless, and it lands with a clank on her floor before she pulls him in for another hungry kiss. Robin can't believe they're about to do this here, on the countertop of a bar, but he'd be damned if he stops now.
She shoves him away, and before he has a chance to ask, he sees why. Her hands are grasping the hem of her shirt, lifting and removing it, until she sits there, a shameless wonder of curls and sass, wearing nothing but a black, lacy thong Robin doesn't think he's ever seen on Regina before. And what a shame, that, because it's perfect, has his mouth watering over the way it looks on her before it, too, joins her jeans on the floor, dragged down and off by his greedy hands.
God, he wants her.
He's missed her so much, missed the softness of her skin, the wetness of her sex, that trembling need that shakes her body when he kisses her.
And now she's here, bare and ready for him, and she may not be aware of who she is, but he can tell now that her body craves him as much as he craves her, and it calls to him, perfect breasts heaving, inviting tongue peeking to wet her lower lip as she asks, "What are you waiting for?"
Not a damn thing, Robin thinks, and then he's hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his jeans and throwing them down along with his boxers, kicking it all away messily and as hurriedly as he can, and then he meets her eyes.
Regina knows his body, has touched and explored every inch of it, but Roni has no memory of that, and her reaction to him, to the sight of him naked before her... it makes him burn for her. He can feel the heat of her gaze as she roams it over him, one hand leaving its perch on the counter to extend toward him, running delicate fingers down his chest and stomach. Her teeth sink into her smile as she looks up at him under her lashes, and then she tells him, "Not bad, thief."
"And you're gorgeous," he says sincerely, walking into her space slowly, loving the way she opens her legs so he can settle between them. And he wants to appreciate her, wants to take his time with her, but Roni is not one for slow and sweet. She wants it fast, and rough, and hot, and her own hand is moving down to her clit now, rubbing those quick little circles Regina has always favored, and it's the sexiest thing he's ever laid eyes on.
She doesn't let him lay eyes on her for long, though, because next thing he knows, she's putting her other hand on his neck and forcing him down to her for a kiss that's wild and hard, full of tongue and the sharp bite of her teeth on his lower lip.
"Fuck," he whispers when she lets go, and opens his eyes to find her staring up at him expectantly.
His hands grasp her thighs and jerk her forward, until her ass is on the very edge of the counter and he can kneel on the unforgiving floor of the bar, his knees protesting immediately. He doesn't care, though, not when he's finally able to taste her again, his tongue lapping at the wetness that he has missed so terribly. It's familiar, and perfect, and he savors her, a starved man finally presented with the meal of his dreams. She's whimpering a little, getting into it the more he eats at her, his tongue right between her lips, moving up and down in the slow passes he knows rile her up.
She gives him a throaty Aaahh, and her hand flies to his hair, gripping and pulling as he licks again, and again, the tip of his tongue entering her, teasing and indulging in the taste of her. He finds her clit next, closes his lips around it and sucks hard, a loud Ohh breaking out of her. Fuck, he's missed hearing her.
"You're surprisingly good at this," she gasps, and he looks up at her, smirks and licks his wet lips.
"Should I feel insulted by your lack of faith in me?" he teases, his fingers toying a bit with her clit, rubbing those circles she likes, and she's shaking her head, clarifying.
"No, I..." her voice is breathy, breaks on the words with pants and little moans, "I mean you're... Mmm, it's like you..."
"Like I know you?" he finishes for her, moving in and kissing her clit, his fingers pushing inside her. "I do. I know you."
He sucks at her clit again, fingers moving further in and up, searching for that spot he knows will melt her. "I know what you like, Roni," he tells her, and it hurts him to not use her name, but it is her. She tastes the same, feels the same, reacts the same, yet it's all somehow new and exciting, this bolder side of her that so rarely appears. He loves every bit of it.
"I know that you like this," he punctuates the word with a flat, long lick from her entrance to her clit. "I know you quiver if I touch you just... there," his fingers finally find that spot and hit it just right, her entire body trembling pleasantly just as he predicted, and he can't stop himself from grinning.
"Smug," she chides, but it's a barely a whisper, and her hand has fallen from his hair, is now tracing her fingers over his cheek, and she looks... exquisite, her skin flushed, legs spread and hair a riot on her face. Robin grunts, moves his free hand down to his cock and pumps lazily as he takes her in hungrily.
His other hand is still inside her, fingers moving back and forth and back as he watches her, and she's panting, her hips rolling languidly onto his hand. On the next pass, he enters her harder, deeper, and she moans his name, her head lolling back as she Aaahhhs and Mmms, teeth biting her lower lip again when she looks back down at him.
He loves that he can do this to her, and sets about making it happen again, and again, sucking at her clit as his fingers continue their steady pulsing, hitting that spot over and over until she's gasping her pleasure and pulling at his hair again.
"Fuck, yes, right there!" she whimpers, moaning and circling her hips faster, building her orgasm on every press of his tongue on her clit, every sucking kiss and well-placed thrust of his hand.
She comes with a choked, breathy kind of scream, her pull on his hair keeping him right where she wants him, guiding his head as he eats her desperately, drinks in the wetness coating her and hums pleasantly at the way her legs shake around him.
Her breathing is shallow, chest heaving and breasts rising and falling with it when he looks at her.
"Come here," she orders, and Robin happily obeys.
She moans at the taste of herself on his tongue, and kisses him harder, faster, grasps his cock in her hand and starts pumping him. She doesn't know him, doesn't remember their previous times together, but somehow she knows exactly how to touch him, knows to pull back his foreskin and press her thumb over his tip without so much as looking down, her head still busy up top, kissing him and licking a tantalizing trail down his jawline.
It's heaven, having her back in his arms like this, feeling what she does to him, basking in the way she wraps her hand around his cock and applies just the right amount of pressure to drive him crazy.
He groans, seeks her mouth again, and bites her lip when her other hand rakes nails over his shoulder and down his arm.
"Condom," she whispers into his lips, and he grunts at that.
"I, uh... I don't..." he's stammering, and Regina just smiles at him, jerks her head somewhere behind him.
He's loathe to leave her, hates to abandon the warmth of her body and her tempting touch, but this is Roni, he reminds himself, Roni, who has never had sex with him before, Roni, who keeps a stash of condoms for her patrons, hidden in the drawer under her more expensive bottles.
And so Robin reluctantly moves away, walks backwards until his back hits the counter where her fancy bourbon rests, and then turns and crouches down to search for one of the little plastic packets.
When he turns to her, he's mesmerized. And how could he not be? When she's naked and smiling and beckoning him over with a single finger, her legs still open and waiting for him to take his rightful place back between them.
He almost caves and tells her how much he loves her just then.
Instead, he settles on "You're beautiful," and walks right back to her, unashamed in his nakedness as he palms his cock and watches the way her eyes drift down to catch the action.
She takes the condom from his other hand, puts the little pack between her teeth and pulls to rip it open, handing him the rubber and waiting patiently as he places it on.
Once he's fully sheathed in the latex, his hand is back to pumping over his shaft, faster now, with more pressure, the sight of her waiting for him making him that much harder. Her hand is on her clit again, fingers circling over it as she stares at him, that devious little smile still in place, and fuck, he loves watching her do that.
"Could stare at you all day," he rasps, and she tips her head to the side, still grinning at him.
"Why look, when you can touch?" she teases, and just like that, he's on her.
His tongue is relentless, seeking out hers, his hand on her breast, kneading roughly, thumb running over her nipple before he brings his head down and sucks. She's sensitive here, and lets out a surprised, pitchy Mmmhh that turns him on even more, makes him suck again, then move to the other nipple and suck that one too, his tongue flicking at it, coating it in spit while his fingers pinch and roll the one he's just abandoned.
"Inside me," she chokes, pulling on his hair and tilting his head up so she can kiss him hungrily, panting her next order as she takes him in hand and positions him: "Now."
She could ask for the world and he'd give it to her. Silver plate and all.
It's not slow, or reverent, or in any way like he imagined their reunion to be. But it's good. Entering her feels like coming home, and rather than moan, or scream, he sighs deeply, blissfully, because it's her, it's his Regina, no matter what this curse does, this is his soulmate.
She gasps, then gives him a tight little moan as he pushes in deep, her arms looping around his neck as she pulls herself flush against him, burrows her head in the crook of his neck and kisses there, sucking at his skin, teeth sinking in as her nails dig into his shoulder blades.
"God, that feels..." he hears her say, her voice scratchy, reverberating over his skin as she speaks against it.
"I know," he agrees in a gruff tone, looking into her eyes and finding the comforting brown he loves so much. She's wet and tight and home. His hands grasp her thighs almost possessively as he pulls back and buries himself inside her again, deeper and faster this time.
Another Aaahh breaks out of her, and another, a moan chasing his next thrust. Her hands fall back onto the counter behind her as he drives their movements to an upbeat tempo, his hips bucking into her, her whole body bouncing as his cock pushes in and out and back in to the rhythm of her frantic breaths.
"So good," she tells him, and he can see how she surrenders to it, runs a hand in a straight line down her chest, the valley between her breasts, her stomach as she leans back, and then his thumb reaches her clit and rubs little circles on it, the way he knows she likes. He hears the surprised gasp she lets out, but keeps on going, thrusting fast and hard into her, watching as she arches her body, presents it to him for the taking again and again, her breasts pushed up and so close to him he can't help but lean down and suck at her nipples again, kiss a trail from one to the other, desperate as he is for her.
He's close, so close, and so is she, he can hear it in the way her breaths become choppier, feel it in how she rolls her hips a bit awkwardly to meet his every stroke. Every moan she gives him is chased by one of his own, and he's panting how good she looks, how much he loves feeling her like this, how he wants her always, how she's a fucking goddess he can't get enough of.
"Like that?" he asks her roughly, entering her again to the hilt in one smooth stroke. She Mmms, and pulls herself close to him, her mouth open and hovering over his, elbow resting on his shoulder, her hand in his hair. Her tongue comes out to lick his upper lip, and he sucks at the warm, wet tip of it and groans.
"Yes," she whispers. "Fuck, yes, right— mmm, right there, don't stop, don't— Shit, that feels so good. "
Roni's got a mouth on her, and Robin is liking it, likes how uninhibited she is when voicing her pleasure. He strives to give her more, thrusts harder, faster, feels the way she whimpers before she kisses him wildly once again.
Her legs wrap around his waist, her arms secure around his neck, and he grasps her rear and lifts, carrying her with his cock still inside her, until he has her back against that wall where all this started, and he's fucking into her, using the solid surface at her back for purchase. He holds her there as he thrusts faster and faster, until she's screaming and coming again, her walls squeezing around him in that perfect way they always do. He'll never tire of that feeling, not ever.
Roni is panting, circling her hips down and onto him, and Robin chases his own bliss by thrusting again, again.
"Harder," she encourages, "fuck me, Robin. Fuck me the way you want to fuck me."
His next thrust is deep, and firm, and intense, slams her against the wall as she reacts with a surprised little moan. Her tongue licks a trail up his throat, then plunges into his mouth as he moves, their bodies slick with sweat, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the empty bar until he comes with a groan he muffles into her shoulder, kisses there for good measure as he feels the waves of pleasure crashing inside him and all over.
They stay like that for a moment, both coming down from their high, Roni panting into his shoulder and playing fondly with his hair, the way Regina would've done. It brings a semblance of peace to him, a tender familiarity in the aftermath of their passion.
He's still inside her, still carrying her, her legs shaking in their hold around his waist, so he lets her down, holds her steady at the waist as he pulls out of her. When he's sure she can hold her weight, he takes her hand and walks her into her office, a little corner behind the bar that's hidden from onlookers and patrons, where she spends hours going over finances and making sure her establishment is up to code. Every bit the mayor, the queen she once was.
There's a small bathroom in there, and after he sits her comfortably in the cushy chair at her desk, he goes in to dispose of the uncomfortable rubber and clean himself up, bringing a washcloth soaked in cool water to press against her flushed skin.
Roni sighs pleasantly, moans a little sleepily as she lets him run the cloth along her arms, her neck, her breasts.
"I could use a drink," she tells him, and he hums, leans in to kiss her softly (feels his heart flutter when she kisses him back), and moves to grab the bottle of bourbon he knows she keeps in the bottom drawer of her desk.
The lowballs are all put away in the bar, so he goes back out to grab a couple, comes back with that and their clothes, his boxers already back on. To his surprise, Roni grabs his T-shirt and pulls it on.
"Who's the thief now?" he teases, and she smiles, raises an eyebrow at him and then nods toward the empty lowballs he's just placed on her desk next to the bottle.
"You look better without a shirt," she says with a shrug.
"So do you," Robin claps back.
"Oh, I know," she says expertly, sexy and confident as ever.
"So you'd rather I suffer, is that it?" he jokes, and all she does is wink (or tries to, anyway, she has never been able to get it quite right. It's a thing she's always been frustrated about, his Regina, but he finds it adorable); laughs at the exaggerated pout he gives her and tells him to Just pour the damn bourbon.
"As you wish milady," he answers, and smirks at her.
She rises while he sets to his task, grabs her own glass after he's served her a splash of the burning liquid, and uses it to gesture to the chair she's just vacated. "Sit."
Robin does, his own drink forgotten. He's amused at how easy it is for her to give him commands even when she has no idea she once ruled a whole kingdom.
To his surprise, she walks slowly toward him, her glass held close, almost protectively against her chest, her small frame swimming in his shirt, the hem brushing her thighs. Stunning.
She's grinning, then finds a comfortable spot on his lap and sits there, legs thrown over the arm of the chair, her free arm wrapping around his shoulders, her face mere inches from his. Tilting his head up, he brushes the tip of his nose against hers, and then watches her take a sip before she kisses him. He can taste the fire of the bourbon on her lips, grows addicted to it in seconds, and lets the hand he's settled behind her run over her back, play with the ends of her hair.
"This is a one-time thing," she says when they part, her voice a mere whisper in the stillness of the room.
"Is it?" he asks, because he knows that look she's giving him now, that apprehension in her voice. She doesn't want this to be a one-time thing.
It's somehow refreshing to see that Regina's sense of self-preservation is still in there, regardless of how much it hurts him.
"It has to be," she defends. "We work together, Robin, I... this cannot happen a second time. You understand?"
Fate is playing tricks on him, it seems, the wording triggering memories of a time where everything was simpler even in the chaos that enveloped them.
And because he wants to play with fate right back, he answers the same way he did then.
"I know. But... if we don't leave this room..." he teases, leaning in to buss her lips, "...I think that this all just... counts as the first time, don't you?"
She chuckles at that, but kisses him then, her tongue soft and unhurried against his, her hand back to playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
He'll respect her wishes, whatever those are, but he wants her love, craves it, not because it'll break this curse, but because he feels empty without it. So he'll wait, and show her what she means to him whenever she allows it.
In the meantime, he'll indulge in this a little longer.