Prompt: A kiss on the; nape of the neck (#3/25)
Setting: Fairytale Land, MQVerse

If she had any idea, a single inkling to what she did to him, just by sitting at her vanity, penning away some noteworthy moment, some unexpressed wish or unspoken fear — pouring into her diary the things she thought she had no one else to tell — looking every inch the queen she'd come to be. Regal, and beautiful, both effortlessly so. If she knew, well, if she knew Jefferson was certain he would be no match for her, were she to choose to wield it against him.

She didn't seem to notice him as he watched her, and that made it all the more a moment not to let pass unappreciated. Her eyes were cast downward, painted silver, with long black lashes obscuring her view of him in the mirror, as he stood not far behind her. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, as he simply waited and watched for her to finish.

As she scrawled, his eyes began to trail away from the reflection and onto Regina herself. Her hair was piled atop her head, an intricately woven work of art, with an unworthy crown sunk in to the front of it. From the back he could see the faint wisps of dark hair that laid against her neck — a stark contrast to the sun-kissed skin. And he couldn't ignore the sudden urge to lay his lips there, even though his urge was then swiftly interrupted.

"Are you planning on watching me all night or will you be saying hello at some point as well?"

She didn't even look up when she spoke, even when his eyes shot straight back to her reflection and a soft laugh could be heard as he stepped closer.

"I didn't want to interrupt you."

"Mmm." She glanced up with a smirk pulling at her lips and dancing in her eyes, before looking back down at the diary as if she lost all interest in him.

He couldn't blame her for not believing him. But he couldn't really blame himself either. And who would? Years before he had been foolish, went after her for all the wrong reasons, all the self-serving reasons, ones to tout on about — how he bedded a queen, made her trust him, made her betray all that she'd admittedly never hold dear but were the opposite true, it still wouldn't have mattered to him. Along the way though, she had begun to matter. The unfairness of her life, the unfairness of her marriage, the altogether un-fairest child who made her miserable day in and day out — Jefferson knew he could do little to truly make her life any better. But that did little to stop him from trying.

What were once stolen moments, short and frantic kisses when she should have been learning magic, when she should have been at the stables, when she should have been anywhere that wasn't with him — that was where he made sure she would be. Stolen moments gave way to stolen days, and stolen nights, stolen until they were his very right. And so had those nights stretched on through years. He still had his duties, and she still had hers, but when they were left to make the choices themselves, the decision was really no decision at all. It was natural. Inevitable. It was all that it should have been, if they were ever truly able to belong to the other.

Belonging is really an opinion more than it is evidenced by fact, or matrimony. Just because she was not his wife, did not mean that she belonged to her husband. Belonging is about choice, about wanting to be someone's, about wanting them to be yours. Regina, in every sense of the word, belonged to Jefferson, just as he did, to her.

"I missed you." He said, as he leaned to rest his hands on the vanity, arms on either side her.

"And I, you." She still didn't look up, stayed buried in her writing although he could just discern how her penmanship had begun to stray from its usually perfectly executed flicks and flourishes.

"I'm fairly certain I missed you more." He leaned down closer so his breath just tickled against her ear, causing her quill to stall entirely.

"Is that so?"

"Without question."

The smile she tried to fight as she looked up just enough to catch his eyes in the mirror made him certain — if he wasn't already before — that he had missed her ten times what she had him.

"Do you want me to tell you, or should I just show you how much so?"

As he stayed so close to her, the familiar bouquet that was so very Regina — filled him up and pulled him in, as he let his lips drop just to the crook in her shoulder, before she even had a chance to respond, beginning to trail back and around to the spot he'd been so keen on tending to just moments before.

He couldn't look at her anymore, but he could feel her reaction. The ever so slight shudder that escaped her when he pressed one kiss, and then two, dropping them not an inch apart as he drew a precise line down the top few vertebrae that were exposed to him. A hum left her as he pressed a third, had her dropping her head down just a touch, a wordless request for more.

Yes it was without any question that he had missed her, far more than his words were equipped to express.