AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy Halloween! A treat for all of you. Enjoy!
Directionless walks in the forest were not uncommon for Robin. Sherwood Forest had provided so well for him that Robin sometimes wondered if he had a special communion with woodlands. He liked to think so. He respected such places, and in return, they always seemed to help him in his time of need. Countless times, he'd had the Sheriff of Nottingham or some other such foe right on his heels, but after a few turns in the forest, he'd be lost to them—as if the trees had deliberately moved themselves to confuse his pursuers. This was not something he had ever witnessed, but he felt it in his heart that the ancient trees were looking out for him. As such, now and then, he spent time simply walking through the glades and thick wooden labyrinths—quiet with his thoughts.
It was one of those rare walks of communion that he found himself on presently. Armed with just the clothes on his back, he had chosen a direction at random from his camp and started walking. There was something healing that could be found in immersing oneself in nature. Admiring the growth of a sapling, or running a finger along a leaf, not quite disturbing, but falling into line with the rhythm of the forest. He felt connected to every tree and to every root. Connections were mutual, and so before he knew it, he found himself entering a familiar graveyard.
Robin was quite certain he had not headed in the direction of the graveyard, but his feet—or the forest—had pushed him in this direction all the same. It seemed the forest knew his heart better than he did. Sighing lightly, he left the tree line and crossed the graveyard to the large mausoleum that stood ominously in the middle of the cemetery. Yet, as he opened the door and started down the steps, Robin did not feel chills of morbidity nor of disturbance. When he turned the corner, he was not surprised at all to find Regina within, perched atop a chest and reading a book.
"You're not very good at staying away," she commented without looking up from her book.
Robin gave an almost embarrassed smile. "Honestly, I couldn't tell you how I got here. I was walking in the forest and . . . my heart led me here." Or those pesky trees did. It was rather a toss-up at this point. His words obviously didn't please her. He heard her sigh and look up from her book with a strained expression.
"This isn't fair of you," she told him. The smile left his lips, and he lowered his gaze. He knew that. "Whatever your heart is doing, Robin, you need to stop it. She's your wife, and you need to help her." She was right on that mark, too. Regina rose, smoothing her hands over her snugly-fit red dress. Really, did she have to look so . . . spectacular? "And frankly, you're hurting me." His expression hardened at that, and he moved to speak, to console, but she made a movement with her hands to gesture silence. "This coming around is . . . it's torture," she stated. "This isn't just about Marian. My . . . my heart is all mixed up in this, too. It . . . it would just be easier if you forgot about me and focused on her. Staying away is what we both need." Robin's heart ached at her words. It was as if she had asked him to lift the world and carry it on his shoulders. "You can do this, Robin. You loved her once. I'm . . . I'm sure you can do it again." Regina passed him, leaving the vault—and him—behind.
For awhile, he remained there, breathing in the scent of perfume and soap she had left behind. He would have preferred to inhale it in the crook of her neck, but he had to deny himself that pleasure. Robin knew he had come to a crossroads. His paths led to opposite women. Duty compelled him to choose the one . . . love compelled him to another. Closing his eyes, he imprinted this scent into his memory. If he was to live without, he wanted to make sure he could return to the pleasant dream whenever he wished.
Reopening his eyes, he scratched his forehead irritably. "God, I need a drink . . ."
"Ah, there's that lovebird," the familiar drawl of Will Scarlet reached his ear. Robin turned his gaze—which had been locked on Marian—to his friend. "Really, mate, you should stop staring. You'll scare her off."
Robin chuckled and gestured for Will to join him at the campfire. "You'll understand when you find a woman of your own. It's difficult to look away from beauty."
"Blegh," Will made a face. "Such flowery talk. And just so you knows, I see beauty a great deal."
"I mean not the kind you pay for," Robin jibed, making a jab at him. Will's nocturnal activities were rather well-known in the camp. Robin wasn't one to delegate how Will spend his share of their meager income. He left that to Friar Tuck. However, that did not mean that Will was free from his teasing about it.
"Har-Har, mate," Will made a face at him. "You looked mighty thoughtful past all of the drooling though. What's going on in that head of yours, Locksley?"
"Mm," Robin grunted, and he rested his elbows on his knees. His voice lowered, and he glanced around to ensure that no one was within earshot. "I . . . I've been circulating around the thought of asking Marian to marry me."
Will's lips split into a wide grin, and he slapped his shoulder. "No kidding! About time, if you ask me. You two sure do have a great deal of willpower. I'd marry and bed her in a week," he told him, "if she was mine, I mean."
Robin snorted. "You're lucky she puts up with you at all." He paused, "you are right though. I should have married her a week after I met her. I knew I loved her . . . that our lives could only lead in the direction of the altar. But between all of the jobs and running around . . . I just haven't had the time nor the opportunity, and," he bit his lip, a frown line appearing between his brows and at his lips. "And I wonder if it would be right."
Will looked at him in confusion. "Right to . . . what? Marry her? Of course it bloody would, Robin. She loves you."
"I know she does," Robin murmured, "that isn't what makes me hesitate. It's just . . . this life we lead. It isn't made for a woman like her. Marian is tough, I give her that. She's a hell of a lot stronger than me. But this constant danger and living in poor conditions with meager means to get by . . . She deserves more than that. She bloody deserves a castle and a knight. And if she ever wanted to have children? How could we raise them here? Like this? It isn't safe for them, and it'd give my enemies the perfect target." Robin released a heavy sigh. "It'd be selfish of me to ask her to marry me. She's already given up so much."
"And you'd ask her to give up love, too?" Will asked with a scoff. "Robin, all that stuff is exactly that . . . stuff. Marian has never been interested in stuff. What matters is right here," he tapped his chest. "You can weather anything so long as that fire lives in your heart."
Robin was silent, considering Will's words. It was a nice thought, certainly, that love was enough. Was it though? It had kept her with him this long, but after years passed, would she still look at him warmly as he ran off on another dangerous job? Would she come to resent him as he placed their children in danger time and time again? Could he stomach that himself? Retirement was out of the question. There were still so many suffering villages out there, and so long as he had the strength, he needed to help them.
"Mate, it would be selfish to deny her this. She's been waiting an awful long time to marry you," Will continued. "Of course, with the marrying also comes the shagging, and if you're worried she'll leave you because you're piss-poor in bed, then I understand." Robin caught the shit-eating grin on his face.
"Well. When you put it like that, I suppose I have no choice," Robin smirked. He bit his lip again and winced. "Do you think she'll say yes?"
Will grinned. "Only one way to find out."
WHACK! WHACK! CLUNK! An irritated sigh accompanied the sound of unsuccessful darts as they either hit the board from far its mark or slammed into the wall. His aim was off. His aim was never bloody off. Yet, at the moment, he couldn't make a single damn shot. Robin picked up a dart and rolled it between his two fingers. Concentrating, he aimed for the bull's eye . . . and grunted when the dart hit the board outside of the target area completely. His heart wasn't there—wasn't in it. Ignoring the next dart, he picked up his glass of scotch instead.
Perhaps it was a little early to be drinking, but Robin could care less. It was risky—his drinking. There had been a dark time where alcohol had consumed his life. He had sworn to himself—and to his son—never to allow himself to walk that path again. But god did he ever have a reason to now. The burn of the scotch smarted, and he felt the heat of it as he breathed. It didn't quite make his vision swim—he wasn't there yet—but it was certainly making him warm.
Regina's words ran through his mind over and over. Forget her. Love his wife. The only way he could forget Regina was if he took some sort of forgetting potion. He was sure Regina had one. But that was the easy way out. More importantly, the simple truth of the matter was that he didn't want to forget. Though what he had shared with Regina had been brief—just a few weeks—he had sampled enough of her love to become addicted. Besides that, there was just something incredibly natural that he shared with her that he had never felt with another person before. Nothing was forced or faked. He wanted to please her and make her happy, simply because he couldn't stand the sadness that clung to her eyes and lips.
They haunted him—those eyes—night and day. They could make a man feel like he owned the world . . . or like he was worth nothing more than dirt. He knew which he felt now. Gripping his dart at last, he prepared to throw it, but the ring of the diner's bell had him glance towards the door. A familiar figure was quickly retreating back out, but he shot the dart right next to his head. Will Scarlet. He hadn't seen that piece of shite since he had nearly gotten his men killed. Will turned almost guiltily and gave him a small wave. "Robin, didn't see you there. Long time no see, eh?"
"Sit," Robin ordered without ceremony. Leaving the rest of the darts where they were, he moodily gestured for Will to sit next to him at the counter. "Sorry about the door, Granny," he offered to the diner owner, who gave him a look of reproach.
"I'll just add the damage to your tab," she replied and poured them both a glass of the scotch he had picked. "I only have everyone's tab running still for more than thirty years," she grunted to herself, moving away to finish someone's order.
Robin allowed a brief, humorless smile to appear on his lips before taking the glass and guzzling down a healthy dose of alcohol. Will winced beside him, looking him over. He likely looked drunk. Will had seen him in his bad state before. Was he having flashbacks of that time now? Did he worry that he was relapsing to that dark period of his life? Robin was spiraling certainly, but a vow had been a vow. Just like his wedding vows had been a vow.
"Listen," Will said at last. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. For what I did. It wasn't right. I know that. But I'm a changed man. Doing good. And I want to make amends. To you and the Merry Men." Robin glanced at him.
"You nearly killed us all. For what? A woman? Where is she now?" he asked him pointedly.
Will's face fell, and he looked down. "I . . . lost her." Robin was silent as Will explained to him how he had fled the Enchanted Forest with his lady love, Anastasia, to a place called Wonderland. It sounded rather floofy to Robin. But the tale was quite extraordinary. There was a villain named Jafar, and the woman Will loved had been part of Jafar's evil plan, but then she had switched sides, and she had died, and he had brought her back, but then she had died again. It was obvious the ordeal had been quite emotional for him. Robin gripped his shoulder comfortingly. "Enough about my problems though," Will gave a brave smile. "I heard you're in a bit of a pickle yourself."
"That's putting it lightly," Robin murmured. "I find myself standing between two women with my arms stretched for both. You know Marian. You know what she meant to me. What I was like after she died."
Will nodded. "You were a downright mess, mate."
"And then I moved on. I mourned her. But I moved on. I had to. I couldn't be the sad father for Roland. He deserved more than just a dad who looked at him and was in pain by how much he reminded him of his wife." Robin scratched his temple, his thumb running along the rim of his glass with his other hand. "And then I met Regina and everything just . . . clicked. I didn't fall in love. It was gentler than that. Easier. I just breathed, and she was inhaled right into my heart."
Will snorted. "Always the poet. So go get her then."
"Not that easy. I'm still married to Marian," Robin reminded him. "And for her, she's only been away from me for a week or so. She doesn't understand what I went through. And it wouldn't be right to abandon her in a place so different from home." He paused. "And . . . it's more than that. Did I ever tell you the story of how I met Marian?" Will answered, but Robin was already progressing into his story. "I stole her family's horse. I didn't need it. I was just a two-bit thief. I woke up with an arrow pointed at my head and received the scolding of my life. I was so ashamed. The next day, I brought her back all the horses I owned. Shortly after that, I started courting her. But she made me the man I am today. Regina would never have given the man I was a second glance. I owe Marian for putting me on a higher path." Robin was unable to speak after this. The torment was too great. He knew what he needed to do, but the thought of barring himself from Regina was too painful to imagine.
Will was silent for half a minute. "It wasn't easy for her, you know. Being with us. I asked her once why she did it. Why she put up with it all. 'There's good in him, Will,' she said to me. 'And when you see the good in someone, you don't give up on them. Especially if they don't see it themselves. And if you're ever lucky enough to find true love you fight for it every day.'" Perhaps it was wrong. Perhaps it was telling. But Will's words did not conjure Marian's face in his mind. All he saw was Regina.
"Do you believe that?" he asked Will quietly, finishing his glass afterwards.
"Mate, if you find someone to ruin your life for, it's always worth it." He gave a cheeky wink after this and clapped his shoulder before moving away and leaving the diner. Robin didn't watch him go. His gaze was transfixed on a spot on the countertop. He knew just who he wanted to ruin his life with . . .
"And I vow to spend the rest of my life honoring you, protecting you, loving you and adhering to your counsel," Robin repeated after Friar Tuck. His heart was full. Life had twisted and turned to this one moment. This was the culmination of everything, he knew it—his happy ending. Robin's hands squeezed Marian's, and when she smiled so brilliantly at him, a single liquid diamond rolled down from the corner of his eye and across his cheek. He loved her so.
"I take you, Robin of Locksley, to be my wedded husband. And I vow to spend the rest of my life honoring you, protecting you, loving you and adhering to your counsel," she repeated in kind. Their fingers interlaced, wedding ring pressed against wedding ring. Robin glanced at the Friar, and with a wink from him, he grinned and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Marian's lips. With the kiss, they were sealed as husband and wife.
Cheers broke out from within the small church. His Merry Men and her family were gathered in the pews, some crying, but all smiling. Robin stepped back from Marian, and he chuckled embarrassedly at the wolf whistles given to them by Will and Little John. With her hand secured on his arm, Robin led her down the aisle, and they exited the church amid tossed flowers and rippling banners. The sun seemed extra bright, and the flowers shone brilliantly.
He felt as though he could slip right into the clouds and never touch the ground again. "If you keep smiling like that, your face is going to be stuck," Marian teased him.
"I'm afraid that fate is already assured. You're my wife. You've given me the greatest honor anyone could ever impart." Robin gave her a cheeky grin. "I do hope you know what you've agreed to."
Marian hummed, squeezing his arm. "You mean a life of adventure, love and family? What have I done to myself?" Robin chuckled warmly, leading her towards the horse that would carry them off to a secluded home where they'd spend the next few weeks. Before they could reach their mount, however, those from within the church—and those without—crowded in around them to congratulate them personally.
Robin felt a firm squeeze to his shoulder and turned to find Will with a knowing smirk on his lips. "Alright, go on. You can say it."
Will gave a quick grin but shook his head. "You have yourself a fine woman there, Robin. Treat her properly."
A scoff left his lips at that. "You're one to speak," Robin replied, noticing two—or was it three?—women already crowding in around Will. The thief gave a shrug and a wink.
"Well, some of us aren't quite meant for the marriage game. Enjoy though," Will wrapped his arms around two of the ladies, giving him one last wink before moving off through the crowd to celebrate his own party. Robin shook his head, chuckling lightly. He had no idea how Will could lure them in so easily. He'd get himself into trouble with how easily he could do it one day. A few of the other Merry Men shook his hand or hugged him before he was finally able to break free. Marian was already atop the horse, and the look she affixed on him when he neared had him quickening his step. Tonight was going to be the best bloody night of his life.
The flush of alcohol was strong in him. The long walk had sobered him up mostly, but the 'liquid courage' was still singing in his veins. A look of stubborn determination was set in his jaw and in his eyes. Perhaps it was the wrong decision, perhaps this would ruin things forever, but Robin knew in his very bones that everything was leading him to this moment. He wanted to ruin his life with the only person he knew he would be safe with.
Walking down the steps of the vault, he found her in a similar place and position as before. "Why am I getting a sense of Déjà vu?" she inquired, hitting it rather on the nose.
He did not let her throw him off though. Robin plunged right into it. "Regina. I have lived by a code my entire life: Steal from the rich and give to the poor, be truthful, righteous and good. I have tried to live by that code every day of my life."
Regina set aside her book, looking at him in confusion. "Then why are you here?" she asked him.
"Because today is not one of those days," he answered and fell into her. Desperation fueled his kiss when he first touched his lips upon hers. There was a begging—a pleading—not to be turned away. Not now. Not when the kiss healed the frayed ends of his soul. How could this be wrong when it felt like this? When it felt as though everything satisfyingly clicked into place? It took her a second, perhaps because of shock, before she returned his kiss.
It was all Robin needed to drop his hands from her face and wrap them around her waist. Pulling her up against him, he deepened the kiss. She gave a warm sigh, and he was able to quickly slip his tongue into the sweet cave of her mouth. His mind swirled at the simple pleasure he received from her lips alone. He had been born to kiss this woman . . . and she to kiss him. Robin felt it in his very soul—their kiss could create a universe.
Small hands lightly pressed to his waist and back—unsure, at first. Yet as he felt her tongue slide across his, her mouth slanting to give him access to more, he also felt her hands grip onto his vest and shirt, pulling him tighter into her. A low moan left his lips, rumbling through his chest against her. She gave an echoing sigh and pressed her hips to his. His blood was pumping furiously, molten lava surging in one direction. His mind was hazy, and he felt ten times more drunk now than he had at Granny's.
"Regina," he managed to pant against her lips, their breath coming heavily and hot. His lips were wet and swollen from the furious activity. She was savage in her kissing, rough and consuming. A good thing that being consumed was precisely what he wanted.
"Yes," she gave a trembling gasp in reply. Robin hadn't even realized he had been asking her, but at her answer, he moved into action immediately. Her vault left much to be desired in terms of comfortable places to rest upon. And since his lips refused to be away from hers for very long, Robin found himself dragging them across her vault, stumbling into a few things as he blindly searched for something to lay her upon. A few chuckles and giggles were shared between them at their haste and bungling attempts. With impatience beginning to run high, Robin just grabbed a blanket and laid it over the floor.
Swiping his arm under her legs, he knelt and laid her down properly. Her eyes were warm and glittering as they looked up at him, and his heart hammered in his chest with joy and desire. Again, their lips fused, and he moaned loudly when her tongue took over the play. She was quite the insistent woman. As her hands moved to play with his hair—an action that had him trembling with desire and affection—he worked at the zipper on her dress. As much as he enjoyed this particular dress on her, it was long past time that they revealed to one another the vulnerable vessels that held the other part of their soul.
As he ran the zipper down the line of her dress, his mouth kissed along her jaw to her neck. Regina gave a sharp cry and clutched onto the back of his shirt. An amused chuckle left his lips. "Sensitive, I see," he purred, giving the large pulsing vein in her neck a long lick. Regina gasped and jerked against him, her nails digging into his back through his shirt. This was quite a pleasant discovery. Robin exploited it, his lips attaching and sucking heavily into the crook of her neck. As she squirmed and moaned underneath him, he finished pulling her zipper down and began to extricate her from her dress.
Once it was removed, he felt her tense. Lifting away from her neck, he checked her face. She was biting her lip and looking a little nervous now. Robin immediately kissed her until such fears—whatever they might be—were put to rest. "Regina, you are absolutely stunning," he whispered to her, pressing his forehead to hers, so their eyes were locked. "There isn't a single facet—body or soul—that I find ugly." Her eyes misted, and he saw that look grow in them that always made his heart catch and skip a beat. It was there—never spoken yet—but present in her eyes all the same: Love.
Their kiss was tender this time, unrushed and patient. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, and she stroked through his hair. It was only when she started to pull at his vest that he knew she was comfortable once more. Sitting up on his knees, he allowed himself to look at her properly. Clad in lacy black lingerie, he hummed his warm approval. Robin ran a large hand—calloused from life—between her breasts and down her smooth tummy. She sighed at the simple, intimate, touch. Regina was all curves and valleys and plateaus. She was a map that his fingers itched to memorize.
"Touch me," she breathed, both desperate and timid. Robin understood well. It was no secret that she had had her share of men . . . but few—if any—had actually touched her with sincere love and affection. Robin needed to make her feel—know—just how loved she was. Reaching under her—her body giving a little arch to aid him—he undid the clasp of her bra. Sliding it away, he nearly moaned at the sight of her breasts. She was perfection carved from Beauty itself.
"Regina, I . . ." A part of him almost didn't want to touch her, afraid that he would mar this perfection with his own imperfection. But the insistent arch of her body had the words stick in his throat. Instead, he could only breathe, "I love you." His hands finally cupped her breasts, feeling them fill his hands. That was for his benefit, not her own. To please her, he focused strictly on her nipples—which were already hard and pert. The tip of his finger rubbed into the very tip of her nipple, massaging and scratching. Regina gasped sharply at the sensation, her hips bucking up towards him.
Robin hummed in approval at her reaction, stroking her faster. "Robin!" she gasped throatily, her voice hoarse with lust. She clawed at his arms, tugging at his vest. Chuckling, he lowered his head and kissed over her left breast, pulling the hard nub into his mouth and sucking lightly. She cooed and held the back of his head, her fingernails lightly scratching into his scalp and making him dizzy with his own desire. Heat was building quickly between them, and in an effort for relief—and because he no longer ignore her insistent hands—he removed his vest and white shirt.
". . . Oh . . ." Regina said as she examined him, as if she was surprised at what she saw. Her hands came to rest at his chest, then curiously palmed over the hard muscle of his arms and stomach. It was true that he was a larger build for one's standard archer. His arms were a given—it took some strength to use a longbow, after all. The rest had come about strictly through his activities. Climbing, running, rough-housing, fighting. One could not live the life he had without acquiring muscle over time. To Robin's pleasure, Regina seemed to delight in it.
As she stroked along the hollows of his shoulders, he was busying himself in kissing down her tummy. When he did not stop at her belly button, her hands gripped his shoulders. "Robin?" she called, a tone of uncertainty in her voice.
Pressing a line of kisses along the hem of her panties, he glanced up at her. Fear shown in her eyes. "Do you wish for me to stop?" he asked her gently, eyes locked on hers.
"N-no, but . . . but are you sure?" she asked him, and he saw a tint of red growing in her cheeks. Her shyness was adorable to him. This was a woman who oozed sexual confidence, and here she was, nervous about receiving a few intimate kisses to her sensitive little flower.
"Very," Robin replied, and his own confidence only made that shade of red on her face glow darker. Chuckling lightly, he hooked the sides of her panties in his fingers and pulled down slowly, giving her plenty of time and opportunity to stop him if she so wished. But the lace came off, and she only breathed heavier as he spread her legs just a little. Robin felt quite the stroke to his ego when he found her glistening already. Their snogging had had quite the effect on her. She was not, of course, alone in that regard. His trousers were uncomfortably tight as well.
Robin eased her, pressing gentle and tender kisses into her thighs first. Her hands slowly moved from his shoulders to his hair. When he heard her breathing a bit easier, he turned his chin just a little to the right and ran his tongue along her wet slit. Regina cried out and sat up, looking down at him wide-eyed. Her strong reaction made him realize something. "You've never experienced this before, have you?" he asked her. Regina bit her lip and shook her head. Leaning up just a little, he kissed her tenderly and reassuringly. "Lay back," he whispered to her, easing her back down with kisses and caresses. She sighed and rested back, her hands moving back to his hair.
Robin pressed a kiss to her slit this time, and listened to her accompanying sigh. He was quite pleased with how sweet she tasted. There was a musk flavor as well, but by and large, she was his own flavor of honey. And he was starving. Robin licked her outer walls extensively, priming her, and only when he felt her slickness increase, did he finally slide his tongue inside of her. Regina groaned low, her legs twitching for a moment before closing around his head to keep him there. A short chuckle left his lips. He thought she might enjoy this. Robin watched her as he drew his tongue in and out of her, twisting his flexible tongue into places likely untouched before.
The sounds she was making him assured him that she was enjoying it. "Robin!" came every now and then, along with a sharp cry or moan. She was so warm, and he could feel her pulsing already around his tongue. Her hands tightened in his hair, holding on for dear life. Robin probed and set up a rhythm, giving her a heated fuck with his tongue. "Yes, yes, oh my god yes," she breathed, her body impulsively jerking down now and then against his face.
She was spiraling quickly, if the increase in pulsing was anything to go by. Robin drew his attention to her clit—which was swollen and eager for attention. The second his tongue lapped over it, she was crying out loudly—the sound echoing in the vault. "OH! There, Robin, there!" He focused on that spot alone, sucking and licking her thoroughly. Regina was breathing heavier, and he watched her breasts rise and fall rapidly, her tummy clench . . . and then her thighs shook on either side of him, her hands grabbed and pulled his hair in a manner that would have hurt had he not been so damned aroused by the sight of her orgasming.
A cry—broken and strained—came from her lips, and she arched just a little as it washed over her. Robin could feel her fluttering around his tongue, and he moaned hungrily, trying to extend her pleasure for as long as he could. Her 'honey' had increased ten-fold, and he licked her up, cleaning her and relishing in his victory. "Oh my . . ." she breathed softly as she came down, her legs falling to either side. Her hands released his hair as well, smoothing through the strands instead. "A girl could get addicted to that," she gave a low, husky laugh.
Robin returned it, grinning almost smugly up at her. "Just wait until you see what I can do with my fingers," he informed her. The life of a thief had made them quick, agile . . . and dexterous. Regina was quite warmed up now, if her hungry-grin was anything to go by. She was pulling him upwards, and he eagerly went. Their lips and tongues tangled, Regina moaning when she tasted herself on his tongue. She had become a livewire now that she had been opened to pleasure. Her hips were rubbing against him, grinding with such delicious friction, that he was moaning heavily into her mouth.
"Fuck, Regina," he swore against her lips as she practically humped against him, the sensation driving him wild. Grunting, he bit her lower lip in an effort to still her, but that only made her burn hotter. Her hands fell to his belt, undoing it and practically clawing him out of his trousers. Robin, thoroughly aroused, helped her until he was kicking free of his boxers as well. Relief came immediately as he was freed from the restricting fabric. Regina was not shy now. Boldly, she grabbed his cock and gave him a hard pump that had him crying out and stiffening further.
"Regina Mills," he growled, his mind heated, lust blinding him. She grinned naughtily at him, and he urged her back, grabbing her hips in the process and yanking her down to meet him. She laughed and pressed her hands against his chest, holding onto him. Robin angled himself with ease, lightly pressing his tip against her entrance. Biting his lip, he slowly pressed inside of her, his jaw soon dropping as he sank into her inch-by-inch.
It was a holy experience. There was no other way to describe it. The both of them looked at each other in surprise at just how good it felt. "Robin," she almost whimpered.
"I know," he breathed, his hands moving to hers. They held fast, and they looked into each other's eyes as he started to move slowly back and forth. This pleasure was not just of the body. It was of the soul. Stars were aligning and trumpets were blaring. Decay was flushing into new life, and worlds went through Genesis. Their souls were united.
After their initial shock wore off, Robin picked up his rhythm. Each stroke was given deep and with intent to make her feel it. Regina's legs spread wide, moans flowing freely from her lips. "God, Regina," he prayed, pleasure throbbing through him. Every thrust was a sharp stab of brilliant, white pleasure. Holding their hands up above her head, he stretched them out. His chest pressed to hers, and he could feel her hard nipples scratching against his skin. It was a delicious contrast to the smooth silk he was stroking himself inside of.
"More," she demanded, her eyes black with lust. "Fuck me, Robin."
"Fuck!" he cried in reply, his hips following her order of their own will more than his. His cock started to pound her deep, sending her eyes rolling back into her head. Her body arched under him, allowing him deeper access that increased his own pleasure. The friction built and built, and she soon started moving against him, meeting his thrusts. Her body bounced underneath him, sliding up a little on the blanket. Robin groaned and pressed down harder on her to keep her from moving. She gasped and released one of his hands to grab around his shoulders, securing herself.
"Robin . . . Robin, I . . . UGGFUUCK!" she bellowed, her voice rising in pitch. Robin felt her undulate harshly around him, and he cried out as she gripped and seemed to only suck him deeper inside of her through her orgasm. Pressed tight against her, he moved erratically, his pleasure taking over his body's movements. There was only the need to thrust and nothing else. Regina was moaning and crying out somewhere, and he was certain he was shouting, too, but that was all back noise compared to the rush of ecstasy flowing deafening him.
His body was tightening, and with each hard pulse her body gave, he clamped tighter still. Raggedly, he breathed until he was toppling over the edge. A rough grunt and groan left his lips as he strained, his seed bursting from him and filling her. Regina gasped and held him to her, her hips moving quickly against him to aid in his release. Robin was stiff and still as he emptied, the sharp prickles and tingles of his orgasm rolling over his skin. The powerful wave moved on, leaving him breathless and drenched with sweat. They were both soaked and panting and flushed.
Her tender hands pulled him down to her, caressing over his back as they breathed together. Tucking his head under her chin, they rested and relaxed and reflected on the powerful connection they had shared. The hand that was still entwined with hers, Robin used to tenderly draw shapes into the palm of her hand. He hummed and smiled against her when she pressed a few kisses to his forehead. The love he felt in that moment was incomparable. This was something beyond this world. It was a wonder the amount of love did not burn right through them—melting their flesh and leaving their charred bones behind.
Eventually, when their bodies had cooled enough, he lifted his head and looked down at her. Her eyes were a warm chocolate that had his heart sputtering in his chest. Kissing her, he pushed himself up just a little and gave an experimental grind of his hips. His cock remained inside of her, and the grind made them both groan. "Be careful," she warned him when they parted. "My appetites, once whetted, are difficult to satiate."
Robin lifted an eyebrow in challenge. "Is that so, milady?" He gave a quick thrust, her jaw dropping as a moan was pushed right out of her. Grinning cheekily, he was suddenly pushed over and rolled onto his back. With a gasp, he found himself looking up at her as she straddled him and sank back down on him in seconds. They moaned together at that.
"Hands on the floor, Thief. It's my turn now," she purred and lowered her head to his, her hair falling around them to shield them further from the world. She rocked . . . rolled . . . bounced . . . and Robin knew this was the night of his life.