Hello hello! Another oneshot. So a week or so ago, Simplymaterial and I went total crazy on our messages and well, there are just things that happen, and this is one of those accidental shit that happens, and so here we are.

Many many thanks to the lovely Simplymaterial for her amazing beta skills.

Enjoy!

Rated M for many reasons.


Robin is a patient man.

If there is one thing about him that he takes much pride on, it's his patience and ability to let nature run its course. After all, he is a thief and he knows better than anyone how important timing is in any heist. There are just things that cannot be rushed, there are things that need careful planning and ample time before the fruits of labor can be seen.

But he is just man, and even his patience can wear thin.

And right at this moment, his patience has been worn down to the seams.

It had been bearable, at first, and he'd understood. He hadn't bothered her, hadn't badgered her, kept his distance and took care of their sons by himself while she isn't able to. He knows that she is busy, filled to the brim with the work cut out for her as the savior, he knows that all she wants is to get back to normal, to get Emma back and focus on other things other than the shady residents of Camelot, among many other things—he'd understood that, supported her through it. He'd kept up with her schedule (and that had been a feat because her schedule is erratic, her plans changing at any given time of the day), if only to make sure that she even makes it to bed before the sun makes its appearance and she puts something in her belly before an eventful day starts.

She'd be gone for hours a day, and he won't see her, and mostly, given the circumstances, he'd be fine with that.

But hours have turned into days, stretching to weeks, and now he hasn't even caught a glimpse of her in any of the seven days of this past week…and well, he is tired, so goddamn tired of having to wake up to the cold emptiness when he'd already gone on to bed without her.

And he might be an honorable man, but he is a man with needs, and his needs include having her in his arms for longer than five seconds.

So he stalks over to the mansion on Mifflin Street, after having dropped Henry and Roland off at Mary Margaret and David's. He had promised both boys that he'll be over at their mother's house and get her to eat something and get her to rest, if it's the last thing he'd do.

Not even bothering to knock, he throws the door open and saunters all over her mansion, looking for her. It is almost comical how thunderous he looks and feels as he makes his way over to the library where he is sure he will find his girlfriend, doing anything but resting. He does indeed find her there as he opens the door, perched on top of her sturdy desk, legs crossed, her black dress clinging to her like second skin. His mouth waters at the sight of her: her glasses are on instead of her contacts, and her hair is pulled off to the side, a few tendril escaping. Her nose is buried in another one of her hundreds of spell books and she looks engrossed in it.

She is a fucking goddess.

"What are you doing here?" she asks him, startling him a bit, as she pries her eyes from the book and places it on the table beside her. She uncrosses her legs and looks at him coyly through the rim of her glasses.

He walks over to her and plants himself in the space between her legs and takes her glasses off from her eyes, carefully placing it on the table.

"I haven't seen you at all the past few days," he mutters as he leans over to her, his breath hitting her skin and visibly making her shudder. "Today is not going to be one of those days."

The last time he'd said those words to her, he'd had the best sleep of his life.

Her eyes widen before she is pulling him by the collar of his shirt, crashing their lips together as he wraps her in his arms, pulling her away from where she is perched comfortably and backing her against the wall near them (he's actually lucky that it's not lined with shelves and shelves of books), her back hitting the surface with a thud. He lifts his hand to cradle the back of her head and steady it as he dives in deeper into her mouth, his tongue sliding inside and stroking hers sensually. He tries to remind himself that he hasn't come for this, hadn't really planned on ravishing her until she has gotten something to eat or rested properly, but all thoughts come flying out the window as she slips her hand down his body, the warmth seeping even through layers of clothing, letting it travel from his chest, down, down, and further down until she is where he is aching, where he wants her to be.

He pulls away from her mouth, but not without biting her bottom lip first, liberating a deep moan from her, and it shoots right to his groin. His lips find the column of her neck, trailing hot open mouthed kisses against her skin. She smells good, so good, she tastes even better, and he can't help but lick, suck and nibble at the succulent flesh his mouth finds, until she is moaning loudly, her hand finding its way into his hair, her head angling to the side, exposing her neck to him even more, and her hips bucking against his pelvis (he thinks he might be crushing her in this position, his whole weight pinning her against the wall, but she doesn't make any complaints, in fact she pulls on him harder, telling him without words to rest on her more fully).

"Robin," she gasps out, her breath war against his ear and her already deep voice sounding huskier and more gravelly as lust takes over her body. Her eyes are a deeper shade of brown, he's sure, and he'd know that if he could only lift his head long enough from her neck to look.

He trails his tongue from the base of her neck, where her collar bone rests, up to her ear before he nibbles on her lobe. She only manages to let a soft sighing moan slip as she moves her head to the side to give him more access. But it isn't enough, not nearly, not to him, and he moves down her throat again, sucking against her pulse point heartily (and surely this will leave a mark and she'll set his arse on fire later for it, but it's worth it, god it's worth it as he tastes her sweet-salty skin on his tongue, besides the moan she'd just let out makes up for any charring that might happen later on). His lips, teeth and tongue find her cleavage that's on clear display and he clenches his hand against her hips where he's currently holding her.

He wants to rip her dress off so bad, god, he wants to run his tongue all over her body, taste every patch of skin and leave none untouched. He wants to devour her, taste her on his tongue to remind himself again and again that this is not a dream, they are finally together, they are exactly right where they belong, and nothing, no more adversaries can rip him apart from her side.

"Robin," she murmurs once more as her hand tug on his hair to bring him back to reality.

It jolts something in him and he buries his face further into her breasts, his hand creeping to her back to unfetter her from the confines of her sexy dress.

"God, my love, you are so hot," he mutters against her skin, and he feels her shake, giggling at the feel of his stubble against her skin. He pulls on the zipper on her back, opening the dress successfully and then he pushes it down her shoulder, giving her a little bite for good measure, letting the dress slither down the floor haphazardly as her bare body is now revealed to him.

She gives him a smirk as she watches him stare at her in awe. "Wipe your drool, babe," she sasses at him, reaching out to pretend to wipe his saliva from his chin.

He growls and catches her hand in his, pinning it above her head against the wall before he ducks his head and bites her dusky peaks through the scrap of lace that she's wearing to cover her breasts. He reaches behind her to unclasp her bra and once her breasts are bared to him, his mouth finds the hard peaks and his tongue flicks against one and then the other, before he suckles on her nipples roughly, eliciting a long moan from her.

He'd always been a breast man, and god, her breasts are nothing short of fantastic.

He feels her wrap one of her legs around his waist and he lets her hand go long enough to hoist her against his hips, letting her core press intimately against his bulging member long enough to make her heat up even more. Her bra finds its way to the floor, along with most of the discarded pieces of her clothing, but he doesn't care about that, doesn't care about any of it, and neither does she apparently as she waves her hand and a cloud of light purple smoke surrounds them.

He finds himself standing in their bedroom with her still in his arms and he looks at her to find her grinning cheekily at him. He shakes his head at her and walks towards the bed, careful not to drop her.

He places her on the middle of the bed and then he pulls back just to stare at her, it's been way too long since he'd last seen her like this (two weeks is not long, he supposes, but it's long enough). She stares up at him with love reflected back in her eyes and he wants to float, wants to drown in her, wants to feel her.

"You're much too clothed, soul mate of mine," she teases as her hands come down to the hem of his shirt and she pulls it over his head, throwing it blindly somewhere, her eyes twinkling in glee when faced with the hard planes of his body. She runs her hand down to the waistband of his jeans and fumbles with his belt and unclasps his pants, helping it down his hips and off his legs, throwing it carelessly on the floor.

The distance is just so much that he can deal with, and then he's back into the warmth of her embrace, his lips finding her skin and then he's nipping, nibbling, tasting, sucking, licking. His hand finds her core, so warm and so wet for him, and he slips in a finger, and then another, curling it just right to make her mhmm, her eyes rolling to the back of her head in pleasure.

He thrusts his fingers in and out, in and out, as she writhes beneath him, her legs folding and hiking to give him further access. He wants to taste her, his tongue longing for her, and so he does, his lips finding every patch of skin, kissing it, giving it soft sucking kisses that leave red welts, making her gasp out and moan out loud from his ministrations). He gives the soft skin under her navel ample attention, before he shift to the patch where her hips and her thigh meet, sucking on it, nipping it and then licking, making her pant and groan, mutter a string of curses followed by Robin, please, ah, mmhmm.

(He likes her like this, incoherent and senses flooded by passion and desire.)

And then he finally positions himself properly between her legs, his face aligned with her wet heat, leans down and kisses her nether lips with gusto, his hand coming up at the back of her thighs to hold her steady, to open her further to him.

She tastes good, tastes like something sinful, something deliciously forbidden, and he wonders if he could ever get tired of this, knowing resolutely that the answer is no, he never will, he loves her, loves her like this—pleasured, thrashing in bed, making sounds that he is pleased to think for him only, her hair getting mangled but she doesn't care. He loves her, every single juicy part of her.

She makes a mewling sound, "I'm ugh, mhhmm, close, Robin," she moans, head thrashing.

He continues lapping at her until she comes, and he cleans her up, licking at her.

She pushes his head away and in an instant, she reverses their position, pushing him down on the bed and placing herself between his thighs. He is barely able to register everything before she is sucking him in her mouth, her cheeks hollowing. For a while, the sound of slurping and sucking, combined with his moans and groans fill the room. His hand rests on the back of her head, carding through her soft tresses.

When she sucks him in a particularly delicious way that has him bucking his hips, thinking he might come if he doesn't put a stop to this, he tugs lightly on her hair, asking her without words to come up.

She looks him in the eye eyes, a glint nestled in her dark brown orbs and a grin on her luscious lips, grinning at him in that way that tells him that she's bad news, and one of the best things that has ever happened to him. She lets him go with a pop.

"I need to feel you now, my darling," he whispers as she crawls her way up his body, aligning their faces and ducking down to crash her lips to his.

His hands settle on her hips and then he's helping her down to his shaft, letting her feel him fully, and he watches her face contort into pure pleasure, her perfect white teeth peeking out as she bites her bottom lip.

He could come just watching her.

And then she's moving against him, thrusting up and down in a deliciously, torturously slow way that drives him insane. She knows it, the little minx knows it, and she goes on like this for a while until it becomes unbearable for her as well and then she's moving faster on top of him, breasts bouncing, hair flying in every direction.

And all he can think of (aside from the obvious), is that she is beautiful, so beautiful when she has no inhibitions, when she is free, and he falls for her more deeply when she is like this because he knows…he knows that she is only like this with him.

But he needs more, he thinks, needs to feel her snug heat enveloping his thick length more. Without a word, and with agility that surprises even him, he flips them over until she is on her hands and knees and he is kneeling behind her, hands on her hips and pounding into her like a mad man. There is a brief moment when she looks at him over her shoulder with displeasure, sure, she wants to be on top, but it melts into pleasure when his fingers find her clit and he flicks the bundle vigorously. He pistols in and out of her, his hard shaft nailing into her with precision, and she is mewling, moaning and groaning. He can feel her tightening around him, her muscles clamping against him over and over again, and it's a wonderful sensation, she is tight and hot, and god, he can feel himself losing control.

The sound of skin slapping skin vigorously fills the silence. He can feel the soft skin of her heart shaped derriere hitting his hips and it makes him grow harder, grow longer. She is moaning louder now, gasping and calling out his name, letting a string of curses unfit for a queen slip past her lips, and he is thrusting into her, meeting her hips at every forward and backward motion until they are both coming together, their orgasms both coming slow, burning from deep within their bellies, spreading throughout their bodies, sending chills down their spines.

"I love you," he murmurs as he pulls her to his pelvis, letting her feel him one more glorious time before he collapses in bed beside her, his hand hauling her body down into his arms, and he feels her press kisses against his sweat-soaked skin as he rubs her back up and down soothingly.

There is a beat that passes as she lays on her side, face buried against his chest. Then she looks up at him, squinting to see his face through the dark.

"Good things come to those who wait, wouldn't you agree?" she teases him as a lazy smile spreads across her face.

He pulls her closer, not once pulling out from inside her, and cards his finger through her hair, pushing back some loose tendrils to the back of her ear. He grins at her. "I'm a very patient man, my love," he teases right back, "For you, I can wait forever."


A/N: Thank you for reading! Would love to hear from you all. I shall be able to post something again sometimes this week!