Day 6 - Smut
Prompt: N/ASummary: An in-depth look at Ruby and Regina's 'relationship', starting well before either of them would consider it such a thing.
Their first time together is a little sloppy, as all firsts are. They're, perhaps, a little too eager, a little too rough, and they both have bruises to hide in the morning. But the night, oh the night! For all their tentative fumbling, their bumping of chins and knocking of knee's, the night is glorious and when they collapse, spent, they curl together like it's the most natural thing in the world. They don't say a word, neither about what had just transpired nor the fact that their bodies, one long and lean, the other smaller, fuller, fit together like they were made for no other purpose.
But morning comes, as it is wont to do, and their early parting is done with a surprisingly comfortable ease, Regina going one way and Ruby, the other. As the hours tick by, though, little work is done, on either of their parts. Despite the distance between them, they're seeing the same sights, hearing the same sounds, and it's hard to concentrate with the ghost of another's skin making your fingertips twitch.
Ruby appears at the manor under the pretense of dinner but dessert transposes the main course in the most delectable of ways; neither complains because, if the first time was good, the second is blissful. They are surer now, confident, a little bold even, and it shows. When she cries out, Ruby knows to press harder instead of pulling away and when the sounds the she makes begin to resemble her four-legged self, Regina has more than a few ideas as on how to turn those quiet rumblings into a full blown howl.
They drift off still entwined and, bathed as they are in nothing but the light of the moon, it's all but impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.
The sun rises and, with it, a routine forms with their lascivious encounters as, if not the centerpiece then at least a cornerstone of their interactions. Each touch speaks a thousand words and each word bears a thousand meanings and it's exciting as only scandalously clandestine trysts can be. And, as time passes, days turning to weeks and those into months, if it starts to feel like they're not quite there without the other, if the day is duller or the movie a little less thrilling, well, perhaps that is a fine exchange.
Then, one night, they go out, together, which, in and of itself, is something of a first. They eat, they drink, they talk. They never talked much, before. It's easier, for both of them, to speak without words but, no matter how fluent, there are limits to what two bodies can say. They make up for it now with bouts of laughter too real to be pretty and smiles so wide their cheeks ache. And, as dinner draws to a close, Ruby is completely enraptured by the flecks of honey in Regina's stunning mahogany gaze and she, in turn, finds herself equally enamored by the playfully wicked curve of the were's mouth.
And that, well, that changes everything.
For dessert, they crash together like fire, like molten heat made flesh, like they always have, and it is everything it's ever been. Until, quite suddenly - and yet not suddenly at all - it's more. They're pressed tight together, their bodies aching with carnal intent, glistening with sweat and sticky with fluids, and their pace, usually as tumultuous as the sea, slows. Their touches lighten, their kisses lengthen. They savor what they had only ever sampled and the taste is…indescribable. Ambrosial. The fire burns inside them but it doesn't rage, it doesn't devour; rather, it builds. It grows and grows until Ruby's sure it's the sun itself shining in the gold of Regina's eyes, until Regina thinks it may consume them both, and then…then it does.
They come together, hard and shuddering, melting together into a puddle of flesh that reeks of sex and satisfaction and some other, unnameable thing that neither of them had thought about until this moment. Now this, whatever this is, they think, they know, is something that cannot be easily cast off. This has meaning, one that is, perhaps, far deeper than either of them have ever known.
This thrilling, and terrifying, realization drives them apart with the sun and keeps them so for days; nothing's exchanged between them but lingering stares and a few scattered, uncertain words.
The stalemate doesn't – can't – last.
It hurts too much, watching without seeing, talking without speaking, and it isn't long before they realize they can't go back to being just Regina and Ruby, not after being…that. This. Even the thought makes them ache in a way that words can't describe.
Which is why, languishing in bed, several glasses of cider for the worst, they decide to try.
Dinners, as in plural, become a regular endeavor and during each they talk, really talk. Over countless entrees and off-white tablecloths, they offer up two (or three, depending on how you look at it) lives worth of memories, exchanging them for tears and smiles and kisses that stay light and soft until it's finally time to let their bodies speak for them once again.
This time, their tentativeness carries a new meaning. It isn't boundaries of the flesh they fear testing but those of the heart, of the soul. Messy, easily broken things, that have caused them so much pain in the past. But there are no secrets between them, no hidden mines to avoid, and, though there are doubts (they are too broken to be without them now), they are small, manageable things, and they are nowhere near powerful enough to stop, or even lessen, this.
This time, as Regina makes her descent, tracing the length of Ruby's torso with fingers and tongue, she takes the time to kiss each and every scar she can find, a silent apology for the pain she's had to endure. And when Regina's spine arches off the bed, her body as taut as a bowstring just before she hurtles over the edge, Ruby doesn't hesitate to press her lips to her ear and whisper that she is safe and, above all else, she is loved.
This time, when the sun rises, they do not part. They linger, exchanging whispers in the curtain-dampened light because anything louder will surely break whatever sugar spun magic is responsible for this perfect moment. And, when they do finally rise, separating for showers and wardrobe choices and the ever-important coffee making, they gravitate to each others sides at the kitchen counter, shoulders bumping with every caffeine laden sip.
In the days that follow, this too, becomes part of their routine. Sometimes accompanied by breakfast, if there's time, and conversation if they're both awake enough for it. Sometimes it even spills out into the driveway and, before long, they don't care if the whole damned town sees because they're just that happy.
They both have work, of course, obligations too, lives far beyond the humble dimensions of a queen-sized bed, but, no matter where the day takes them, it is there that they always return. It's there, safe beneath their walls of goose-down and Egyptian cotton, that they can, at last, be free of expectations, both met and failed. It's where hearts were mended and hurts forgiven, where they can, at least for a little while, just…be.
And, perhaps, it doesn't hurt that it's also the first place they told each other they were in love.
Even if they didn't say a word.