One night she went upstairs, just to say goodnight to Henry. Because he had been in his room most of the afternoon, talking about studying, but she doubted it. And it was late now, she was about to go to bed herself, so she just wanted to tell him that she loved him, and maybe kiss his forehead and run her hand through his hair, because it had felt like forever since she had.
Her fist was raised in mid knock, but she stopped before it connected. Suddenly she heard some soft noises coming from the other side of the door. Not music, or his video games, but it sounded like him. She leaned in closer, even though a part of her already knew that she shouldn't. Something so quiet had to have been something she wasn't supposed to hear.
She was right too, because once her ears focused on the sounds, she realized that they were soft groans and deep moaning, the slight creaking of his bed springs. For some reason, something like a terrible instinct and a horrible sense of parenting, Regina put her hand on the doorknob, ready go into his room regardless, even though she was smart enough to know that he wasn't in any kind of pain, and there wasn't anyone in there with him. But she could use it as an excuse, and—…what for? It was such an appalling idea, so she spent a moment looking down at her hand gripping the brass handle, thumb stroking over the top of it as she contemplated, licking her lips at his particular loud groan and then suddenly the noises stopped and everything went still. That made her snap back to reality, letting go of the door and stepping back quickly.
There was nothing wrong with it. He was at that age, she supposed. Young and full of thoughts and feelings that he didn't know what to do with.
Not too long later, when she was lying in bed herself, she tried to remember when she was his age—not the painful memories of events that always brought her to tears, but just the feeling of it. How everything was new and sensitive, and it was scary but amazing, her first kiss, the first time she explored herself, and the memories of that feeling caused a tightening in her stomach. So she moved her hand underneath the lace material between her legs, and was surprised at how wet she was already.
It had just been too long, she had given up on the idea of intimacy ever since Robin, deciding that she didn't need that part of her life anymore. But her body was a traitor, already aching as her fingers put pressure on her clit. She rubbed faster, thinking of vague imagery, of strong arms and a broad chest, wet sounds mixed with her heavy breathing filled her room. And the closer she got—because she got so close so fast—the more random the thoughts became, knowing she needed just a little more—just something to push her over. A faceless man over her, moving inside her, caused her knees to raise as her hips moved against her hand. Thoughts of his soft groans and deep moaning, and green eyes, and the way he said I love you.
She moaned quietly as she came, body tensing and jerking against her slowing fingers.
As she spent a few moments staring at the ceiling, steadying her breathing, she felt satisfied but also a feeling of guilt started to wash over her, and she wasn't sure why.
Suddenly, there was a soft knock at her door, and panic gripped her for a moment, because she knew who it was and she was afraid he heard the soft noises that came from her room just as she did from him. And when he slowly opened her door and walked in the space of her bedroom, he almost looked embarrassed, which made a blush run up her neck.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight." And it was a question he had asked a hundred times before, but he was younger then, it wasn't appropriate anymore, and the smell of sex was still lingering on her sheets.
So she didn't answer, not willing to say yes, and not strong enough to say no. He started to move towards the bed at her silence.
"I had a nightmare."
He was lying, but Regina only saw it as an excuse to be near her, just for a mother's comfort that he still needed after all this time. And they were growing too distant lately for her to send him back to his own bed. So, she moved over, and made room for him to slide in next to her. Once she was lying down and facing away from him, she assumed he would do the same, but instead he took it as an invitation to warp his arm around her stomach and press his body against her back. A shiver ran through her at the contact, her skin still sensitive from her climax. This wasn't appropriate and she knew it, but he didn't talk about it, so neither did she. He only cuddled in closer and whimpered at the feeling, and told her I love you. His skin was warm and he smelled so familiar, that she relaxed into the touch until she fell asleep.
She liked the mornings. Because some mornings he would come into the kitchen while she making breakfast, half asleep and hair a mess and it always made her smile and he'd kiss her cheek and mumble a good morning, mom, and it just made Regina feel warm inside and it was perfect and the only way it should be. Even if sometimes when he would lean in to kiss her, she felt a hardness against her hip, but it would just be a brushing against her, just enough to notice, and it would only make her tense for a moment. It was just the mornings and it was normal, he was growing—he was grown. There was nothing wrong with it.
Except for that one time, but it only happened once—just one time, when he came into the kitchen one morning. He was only in boxers, which were straining already against the remnants of whatever dreams he had, and it made her flush as she tried to busy herself with mixing the pancake batter. When he said his good morning, she didn't answer, so he came up behind her, asked if she was okay in a voice that sounded so deep and different when she couldn't see his face. And maybe that was why she started to relax into his touch when he gently started to rub her back, with hands that were big and strong and nothing like what she remembered of her son. So, she turned around when he asked her to, only to see a broad chest with the slightest bit of growing hair, and strong arms that gripped the counter on either side of her.
Regina's didn't look up at him, because he was standing too close, and maybe she was just absolutely terrified at what she would find on his face. Instead, her hand raised up to trace the soft muscles of his pale skin, trailing from his shoulder down his chest, just out of curiosity alone and because he wasn't stopping her, but when she traced down to his belly button, his body jerked and he gasped, pushing into her. That's when she remembered that this was her son and she should not be curious about these things, and there was something very wrong with this, because her son's erection was pushing into her and suddenly the air around them turned thick and full of frightening and horrible things.
And whatever haze she had found herself in broke away when she saw him lean in just slightly, as if he was going to kiss her. Her hand on his chest grew firm as she turned her head to the side, pushing Henry away gently, telling him that breakfast would be ready soon, and for him to go and grab a shower.
Afterwards, he didn't talk about it, so neither did she.