Tucking her legs beneath herself, Regina watches as Robin opens a new bottle of wine, and she chuckles softly to herself as he offers her a triumphant little smile that makes her stomach flutter as the cork pops free–and she can't help but think that in this moment, she envies him.

He looks so calm and at ease–barefoot and shoulders relaxed–as if this night were an ordinary occurrence, baring no weight or significance, enjoying it for what it it is.

He returns to her, topping off her glass, then filling up his own, before setting the bottle on the coffee table. He settles back down on the couch–sitting close but not close enough for their knees to touch, and once again, as he props his head up with his hand and smiles at her, she feels her stomach flutter.

Since receiving his note asking for an impromptu date, she'd been nervous. Emma and Ruby hadn't helped, and spent the better part of the afternoon swapping stories about third dates that ranged from disappointing to disastrous. She'd laughed along and acted aloof, but her friends did little to quell her nerves–and somewhere between then and arriving at Robin's apartment, she found herself thinking of all the ways their night could go wrong. All the way there, her mind reeled. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about what would happen if and when he discovered some part of her–some flaw–that he couldn't quite live with, what would happen if something between them didn't quite click, what would happen if whatever it was that was between them fizzled out.

And it terrified her–but then again, there was very little about their relationship that didn't terrify her.

And excite her and make her feel like a doe-eyed idiot, making her feel things she'd long forgotten she was capable of feeling. Until Robin came into her life, she hadn't realized how unhappy and unfulfilled she'd been; and, until Robin came into her life, she hadn't realized how happy and fulfilled she could be.

"You know," he begins, reaching out and skimming his hand over her leg. "It's getting late."

"It is."

"Are you getting tired?"

"No," she tells him, shaking her head and grinning as two of his fingers skim up from her knee to her thigh and then back again. "Not tired. Just drunk."

"Ah–"

"But, not too drunk," she tells him, cutting in and sounding a bit too urgent as her eyes widen. "It's more of that I have a nice buzz going." She grins, her eyes casting down and watching as his fingers trace circles over her knee cap. "

"So… not too drunk to decide that you want to stay the night?"

Her brow arches as she looks back to him. "Are you asking me to spend the night?"

He nods, chuckling softly as she takes a long sip of his wine. "I, uh… I wanted to ask before, but I didn't want to be presumptuous or–"

"Well, it is the third date."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"Doesn't it?" she counters–and then she laughs out. "Speaking of presumptuous, I might've packed a bag."

"Did you?" he asks, brightening as he shakes his head. "But I didn't–"

"I shoved it all in my purse," she admits, her voice a bit sheepish as she looks to the oversized leather tote that sits by the front door, a tote that goes nearly everywhere with her. "Henry calls it my Mary Poppins bag."

"Does that mean you've brought a coat rack or–" Her eyes roll as she looks back to him–and when their eyes meet she finds them soft and amused. "Or perhaps you've brought a talking umbrella to give you a bit of advice?"

Her stomach flutters and once more that annoying little voice at the back of her head reminds her of how long it's been since she's spent the night with a man, and how much longer it's been since a man actually wanted to spend the night with her.

Her marriage wasn't exactly a happy one. She and Leopold never had that honeymoon phase where they couldn't keep their hands off of each other, and though they shared a bed, they typically stuck to their own sides. Though, in those early years, every now and then, Leo found himself in the mood and she'd felt pressured to oblige. But those times were far and few between. She could count them on one hand and all she remembered about them was how mechanical and lacklustre they'd been–and then, somewhere after that first year, they'd stopped sharing a bed in any sense of the word.

There were always rumors that she'd had affairs–how else could she have landed some of the contracts she did?–but she'd never cheated on him, though Emma constantly insisted that she should.

Not long after she'd inherited the company, she and Emma were out for drinks and they ran into one of the junior editors. He'd sat down with them and had a few drinks, and the next morning, she woke up in his apartment. She left just minutes before his alarm clock was set to go off, went home and took a shower, then put on a powersuit and her highest heels–and when she got to the office, everyone knew. So, to save face, she fired him before he could even get off the elevator.

After that, there'd been the occasional random man she picked up in bar or pretty face she'd spotted on a dating website. It was no one lasting and no one she'd ever have to face in the morning, and that was how she liked it. Even then, it'd been more effort than it was worth. Arranging a sitter generally wasn't a problem, but when Henry was little, he didn't like her to be away. He cried when she left and clung to her when she'd arrive at Emma's apartment to pick him up, and sometimes after her date had slipped into the shower, she'd check her phone and find a series of voice messages he'd left for her, asking when she'd be home.

Dates became fewer and fewer over the last couple of years. She'd convinced even herself that it was for the best. Ruby and Emma often teased her about having a particularly pleasurable showerhead or a collection of vibrators tucked away in her nightstand, and she laughed along with them, maintaining air of not wanting or needing a man.

But the truth was, it wasn't about what she wanted and much less about what she needed.

"You know, I'm glad I didn't scare you off earlier," he says, bringing her back into the present moment. "I, uh… I wasn't really thinking and…"

She blinks, completely lost. "I… don't know what you're talking about."

"I told you I wanted more children."

"Oh. That."

"Yes. That." He laughs a bit awkwardly, but doesn't pull himself back. "Obviously, I don't want them now. Just… eventually. One day."

This time, it's her who shifts a bit awkwardly.

At some point, she should tell him.

But if she tells him now, that'll only lead to a conversation–a long and likely difficult conversation–and now isn't the time for that.

She grins a little as Robin babbles, stumbling through an awkward explanation of why he'd make that particular comment and when he thought to say it, he hadn't been thinking about the implications of this particular date. He stumbles through it and adds that he hadn't even really thought about this date being anymore than any other date, that he just wanted to spend time with her–and then, drawing in a breath, she leans forward and kisses him.

His voice halts as her lips press to his, and it takes a moment for him to respond.

She feels him pull away her glass of wine, and then as he sets their glasses aside, he pushes forward, easing her back against the arm of the couch. Her arms go up around him, settling loosely around his neck and for awhile, they just lie there together, trading lazy kisses.

Robin lips taste like wine and he smells vaguely of pine–a smell she now knows is the compliments of the soap he uses–and his beard tickles her cheeks and chin. She laughs a little as her hand slips upward and her fingers push into his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss as her free hand strokes up and down his back.

His hand slips beneath her shirt, coasting up over her bare skin, sending a tingle up her spine.

She shifts herself and tries to break the kiss, then laughs when he doesn't quite let her, following her movements rather than allowing her to pull back–and again, it makes her giggle.

She wants more of this, she decides as she pushes herself up into a sitting position and slides her hand up his chest, gently pushing him back–then, a bit reluctantly, he lets her.

Their eyes meet as they struggle to catch their breath and she licks her lips, already missing his, as she reaches down and pulls off her shirt. Robin's eyes immediately shift and her shoulders shift back a bit, and she watches as he swallows hard, clearly enjoying the way the black satin bra fits her.

She grins a little, remembering how just before she'd left the office Ruby called after her, reminding her to wear a cute bra and panty set and she remembers how she'd rolled her eyes, scoffing as she asked Ruby if she looked like the kind of woman who owned anything other than sexy black undergarments–and while it was true she had a penchant for black satin and lace, as she stood in her mirror with half of her lingerie drawer dumped out onto her bed, she couldn't help but notice how plain most of them were and how they might look to someone else hadn't really been something she'd ever considered.

She'd settled on a set that she hadn't purchased intentionally–the store sent the wrong style and she'd been too busy to send it back in any timely manner–and now she finds herself glad that, perhaps, fate intervened.

Robin's eyes are focused on her chest and he seems unable to look away–and perfectly content to never have to. The bra is a push up style, making her cleavage a bit more pronounced and while the cups are mostly satin, they're detailed with a bit of flirty lace.

He swallows hard and offers a sheepish little smile as he looks back up–and then, he leans back in, kissing her again. It's harder this time with an urgency that hadn't been there before, and when she pushes closer to him, his hands reach for the waistband of her pants as she pushes at his shirt. Their kiss breaks as she tugs his shirt over his head, and he takes the opportunity to stand up and move them to the bedroom.

She follows his lead, her fingers loosely tangled around his, and she feels her stomach flutter a bit when he turns on one of the lamps, then turns back to her, grinning.

"So, you… you're sure you want to?"

"I'm standing here, half naked in front of you," she deadpans. "Yes, I want to."

Chuckling softly, he nods and holds out his hand to her. "I just wanted to be sure."

"Well, I appreciate that and… and I'm more than sure."

"Yeah?" he asks, taking hold of her hand and tugging her to him. "You're positive?"

"Absolutely," she murmurs, leaning up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his lips and letting her hand ghost down his side to the waistband of his pants.

Robin's hands slide into her pants, easing them down as his fingers press into the soft satin fabric that covers her ass as she works to undo his belt. He takes a step back as she steps out of her pants and she laughs a little as he takes another half-step back to the bed–and suddenly, she feels him laughing into their kiss.

"At the pace I'm going," he murmurs, breaking the kiss and looking down at their feet. "It'll be morning by the time we reach the bed." Then, he looks back at her, once more a bit sheepishly. "It's just… been awhile and I'm…"

"A little worried?"

He shrugs, then nods. "Perhaps, and perhaps a bit worried about being… overeager. It has been years since…"

"No such thing as being too eager," she tells him, laughing softly as she steps toward him–and maybe it's because he's all but admitted to the same worry and insecurity that she was feeling, but she feels it fading away. "And, this isn't exactly new to either of us, so–"

"Right–"

Her eyes linger over his body and she releases a shadow breath as she considers how good this is going to feel to be with him–to feel him inside of her, to let him hold her, to feel his hand and lips exploring her and–

Somewhat abruptly, her eyes shift up and she takes a step in, no longer wanting to think about it. She takes another step in and presses her palm to his chest, suddenly feeling confident and in control.

He grins as he looks to her hand and when she steps in again, she takes his lips in hers. She sucks hard at his bottom lip, her hand relaxing against his chest as her fingers slip into his boxer briefs. He lets out a little grunt as her fingers slide over his hard cock, forming around him and slowly pumping up and down the length of him.

Again, she steps forward, guiding them toward the bed and when the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed, he stops and she breaks the kiss–and she watches the way he reacts as her hand pleasures him.

He, too, seems a little more relaxed–and with a soft little grunt, he sits down on the edge of the bed, regretfully forcing her hand away. She grins, though as she starts to sink down to her knees, licking her lips as her eyes meet his–and then, to her surprise, he leans forward, his arm looping around her waist and pulling her to him. She laughs out as he lays back, pulling her on top of him.

He's laughing too as he pecks at her lips, reaching up and pushing her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ears. She bites down on her bottom lip as he reaches behind her, squeezing at the clasp of her bra. She feels it loosen around her back, she sits up, straddling his hips as he pulls it off of her, watching him as he takes her in–and suddenly, she feels so ridiculous for having worried about any of this. Before she can dwell on it, she realizes her nervousness has been replaced with anticipation and excitement, and something else she can't quite place, but something that fills her with a sense of contentment–and again, before she can dwell for too long on what she's feeling, Robin sits up, his lips crashing down onto hers as his arms wrap around her back.

And with one last fleeting thought before giving into the lust that's been building up between them all evening, she finds herself thinking about how lucky she is that he's hers.