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hold your hands up to your eyes again

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Wednesday morning finds them in her study, door locked (though the boys are at school, and the manor is expecting no visitors today). Regina’s skirt is hitched around her hips, and Robin’s hands are inside her shirt. He’s on top of her, a thigh between her legs, his mouth on her throat, and a hand creeping along the panes of her stomach. She’s pressed back into the sofa cushions, no regard for her tousled hair or the noises that don’t quite make it past her throat.

It isn’t the first time that they’ve made it here, but it’s never gone this far before. She feels Robin’s fingers meet the wired hem of her bra, and then retract. He lifts his head from her neck and peers down at her, flushed and panting, as he brings his fingers to the bottom button of her shirt.

He stalls, and Regina tilts her head in a way that lets him know it’s okay for him to continue. She isn’t sure if he gets the hint, but then the button pops in her shirt, and he’s looking at her like he might have just pulled the pin in a grenade. Slowly, his mouth returns to her throat, the bristles of his stubble tickling her sensitive skin as he pops another button open.

“Is this acceptable?” is whispered into her neck, and Regina winds a hand around him, holding him close.

“It is.”

They make it to the bedroom before her shirt can be fully undone, Robin looking at her every step of the way as though waiting for her to splay her hand against his chest and ask him to stop. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s done it, and, bar his confusion the first time, he’s never complained.

“Don’t look so afraid,” she tells him, finally, as she pulls the sweater from his waistband and slides her hands underneath. His stomach is warm and covered lightly with hair, just as she’d imagined. “I’m not going to break.”

Robin smirks, but there’s something else in his gaze. “As long as you’re sure,” he says, and helps her out of her shirt. He almost doesn’t continue, caught on the sight of her in only her black lace bra while she slides the shirt down her arms. “Don’t let me pressure you.”

It’s breathy and strained, and Regina smirks at the sound of it, so used to hearing his voice strong and confident. It comes as no surprise; she’s seen how easily a man can become reduced to nothing but unintelligible mumblings at the sight of a woman in undress, but she gets a kind of satisfaction out of it with Robin, unlike all the times before.

“You’re not,” she says, voice throaty, and pulls the sweater off him until it’s tangled around his wrists.

Robin throws it aside, and that confident grin returns to his face again. They seem to take a moment to admire the newly revealed skin – Regina’s hands on his broad chest, and Robin’s sliding around her waist. He revels in the softness of her skin against his fingers, and the warmth that fills him when she presses her bra-clad breasts against his chest.

His arms fit around her, and he’s thankful to see that he isn’t the only one who appreciates the ease in which he can lift her and carry her to the bed. Regina slips her legs around his hips, and keeps them there once her back hits the bed sheets. Her heartbeat quickens, and perhaps Robin sees the recognition in her eyes of how very real this is, for the kisses to her mouth and neck and exposed chest return. She’s sure he must feel the way her heart beats beneath his lips, fickle and quick.

He lifts his head, a hand coming to her cheek, and smiles down at her as though to tell her it’s alright. Regina’s head shakes minutely at his assumption.

“I’ve,” she tries, hesitates, closes her eyes and wets her lips. “It’s been… a while since I’ve…”

She sees recognition in his gaze when she opens her eyes again.

“For me, too,” Robin tells her, content to watch his thumb as it dusts along her cheekbone. “We don’t have to rush.”

Regina bites down hard on the inside of her cheek.

“I want to,” she tells him, voice barely higher than a whisper. “I want to make you feel good.”

Robin’s chest burns at her admission. “And I you.” 

But there’s something strange in the way her eyes squint, producing wrinkles at their corners. He blinks at her, tilts his head to one side, and wonders if she’s lying. But… no, that’s not it. Instead of appearing distraught that he’d found something odd about her wording, Regina simply glances away, her expression stoic yet… sheepish?

Frowning, Robin dips his head. There’s a faint smirk to his lips when he says, “You doubt I can?”

Regina’s eyes flash up to his, but there’s nothing mirthful about them. All at once, he realises that he’s assumed right, and the smile falls from his lips.

“It’s not you,” Regina is quick to say, and she blows a cool torrent of air across his chest with her sigh. Her fingers seem to follow its course, naturally drawn there, and he tries not to allow himself to become distracted in the way they map his chest. “I don’t… question your prowess,” Regina drawls, rolling her eyes, and Robin shifts above her.

“No man ever has,” she finally admits, and catches his gaze.

Robin dips his head, resolute. “I see,” he says. “A woman, then?”

But Regina only shakes her head. She watches him chew that over, his conclusion appearing on his face with minor disbelief.

“You mean—” He stops, blinks, tries again. “You’ve never enjoyed it?”

Regina takes a breath and glances away, again, thinking. “It’s… proved useful. I know how to please a man, there’s little for you to worry about.”

But Robin’s still faintly frowning.

“Nobody,” he says slowly, like he’s still coming to terms with it, “has ever brought you pleasure—?”

And now Regina’s frowning, and slipping her legs from around him. She sets her jaw and says, “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Robin’s about to protest, but her touch on his chest becomes more of a shove, and he rolls off her to allow her to stand. She’s dressed again with just the flick of her wrist, and ignores him when he calls her name.

Robin is left shirtless and alone, watching her leave.

 

# # # #

 

It’s days later that they find themselves in a similar position again – this time in the forest, his camp just a short walk away. Robin has her pressed up against a tree and is holding the leg that Regina had wrapped around his hip at the thigh, keeping her in close. He’s between her legs again, and her body arches towards him, aching in a way that is both familiar and surprising.

She’s come to expect the throbbing, and the boldness of her hands as they slide beneath his sweater as though that's where they belong. There’s sun in her eyes, so she keeps them closed. Robin slides his free hand through her hair, squeezes her thigh just beneath the hem of her bunched up skirt.

When she pulls back from him, tips her head back until it thuds against the tree’s bark, Robin moves his mouth down her throat. She revels in the scratch of his stubble, and he the breathy gasp that leaves her lips when he flicks his tongue against the pulse point beneath her jaw.

“I don’t want to stop,” she whispers, and Robin lifts his head.

Her eyes are hooded, and her hands snake around his waist, fingers splaying against his warm back.

“Here?”

“Yes,” Regina nods. “Like what we talked about. I want you to make me feel good.”

And when she says it like that, Robin can’t refuse her. He nods his head and brings his lips to hers. With the kiss, he takes her other thigh in his hand and draws her up, supporting her weight completely. Regina tightens her hold around his middle as he carries her away from the tree, stumbling once, to where the forest floor parts naturally in a meadow.

Vaguely, she wonders if the first time that this happens, it’s supposed to be special. It’s a silly notion, one that her teenage self might have entertained, but then she opens her eyes and watches Robin’s face as he lowers her to the ground. There is grass in her hair, sun on her exposed thighs, and she realises with a start that it is.

Above her, Robin helps her out of her shirt. When it comes to the bra, she shows him, amazed, how it unclips at the front to reveal breasts that fit perfectly within the palms of his hands. When he captures dusky nipples between finger and thumb, he’s rewarded with Regina writhing beneath him, eliciting a cry.

“Robin,” leaves her lips on a sigh as she tilts her head back, arching into his mouth as he draws it down the valley between her breasts. She’s impatient, but Robin doesn’t want to rush this. When he takes a nipple between his lips, Regina realises why.

Silently, her hand cups the back of his head, drawing him in as he tongues and sucks on her hardened nipple. She’s never known herself so sensitive – wonders, minutely wary, if she should even allow herself this pleasure. But Robin is squeezing her breast and teasing the nipple of the other with his tongue, and she won’t stop him, no matter what her conscience says.

When the sensation leaves her warm and wet between the thighs, Regina tugs on his hair, drawing his mouth back up to hers. His tongue against hers, she reaches for the belt at the front of his trousers, about to pull it free of the buckle when his hand lands on hers and stops her.

Regina pulls back, blinks up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m doing this for you,” is all Robin says, and Regina frowns, confused.

Before she has a chance to ask him what he means, he’s pushing himself up. Regina almost follows him, disappointed but resolute, but then his hands slide around her thighs in a way that tells her he’s not done. Her empty hands clench in the grass, and she feels the pattern of flower petals printed against her bare back.

At first, she watches him with confusion. It’s only when he begins pushing the skirt up around her hips and settling between her legs that Regina grows alarmed.

“What are you doing?”

Robin lifts his head, a small smile on his face which he presses against her inner thigh in a quick kiss. “Should I stop?” he asks, though Regina isn’t entirely sure what he’s about to start. He’s so close to her, practically touching her there with his –

She has a faint idea of what he intends to do, and it leaves her burning.

“No.”

He’s so slow in sliding her panties down her legs, his fingers coarse and warm against her skin as they skim down thighs, knees, shins. She kicks them off from around her heels, and her fingers clench tighter in the grass.

Robin begins with gentle kisses to her open thighs. He suspects she’s been touched very little here, and possibly never like this. A splinter of his mind concerns itself with Regina’s earlier worries – what if he cannot please her? But the second his mouth travels further upwards, a kiss against the very apex of her thigh, he sees her strain towards him in a way that only one desperate for friction would.

He’s smiling when he pulls his mouth back from her legs, and, heart beating ferociously, he lowers his gaze. The wariness slips from him at the sight of her wetness, and he breathes a small sigh of relief.

Just above him, Regina closes her eyes and mirrors his sigh. She’s painfully aware that he has stopped touching her. “Is everything alright?”

 “It’s quite a—different sensation,” he tries. “I don’t want to surprise you.”

Regina shifts in the grass, opening her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

She’s resolute, and it draws a small smile from Robin, how he had practically heard the eye roll in her voice. Repressing a remark, he lowers his mouth to her, keeping his eyes trained on her face, should something go wrong.

It’s just a kiss, really, and didn’t quite deserve the leg jerk, but Robin was right – it did surprise her. Regina swallows thickly and tries to relax, but he’s still moving against her, his tongue this time. She feels it glide over her, pressing and curling and circling somewhere that feels –

“Oh!”

Robin slows the pace of his tongue, lowering it from her clit and drawing it through her. He sees her stomach rise and fall swiftly above the bunch of her skirt, and hears the effect of her erratic breathing from somewhere above. When he finds her entrance, her body lifts into his face, though he can tell she’s trying desperately to keep herself under control.

He enters her, curling his tongue into her, and lets her taste fill his mouth. Regina sighs and a hand leaves the grass, blades of it still stuck to her damp palm as she covers her eyes with her forearm. It’s when he returns to her clit, drawing sensations out of her that Regina’s body doesn’t seem to understand, that the noises threatening to leave her lips refuse to be repressed. Her legs bend at the knees, toes curling in her heels, and Regina brushes blades of grass through Robin’s hair when she takes a fistful of it in her hand.

Taking this as a hint, Robin quickens the soft flicks of his tongue, and then sucks her past his lips. Regina gasps above him, releases a short cry, and then she’s pushing herself up, panting at mewling. Robin tries to draw back to make sure that all is well, but Regina has a fierce grip on his hair and won’t let him leave her.

A burning sensation begins in her heels, and Regina wonders, vaguely, if she’s about to set the entire forest alight. Considering it, she knows she wouldn’t run. Let the flames take her – let them leave a mark.

She’s so quiet when she comes, but Robin’s aware of its happening when the world goes dark and soft and warm around his face, and the taste of her fills his mouth. He feels her shaking and shuddering against him, and finally a short cry, her fingers painfully tight in his hair.

Regina is quickly exposed to over-sensitivity and lets her thighs open, revealing the man between them. Gasping and tugging at his hair, she waits until Robin’s mouth leaves her, smirking and damp, before her body falls back to the forest floor. She closes her eyes, utterly at peace, and feels Robin shifting from between the dead weight of her legs.

He settles by her side and presses a kiss to her bare chest, his lips just short of where her heart hammers beneath flushed skin and bone.

Slowly, the sounds of the forest return to her. Regina is aware of the birds in the trees around them, and the wind that rustles between their leaves. Her mind feels so peacefully numb, and there’s a faint sweat covering her back, causing grass and flower petals to stick to her skin when she rolls over, into Robin. He’s wiped his mouth and chin, but she tastes herself on him when they kiss, and it gives her pause. She supposes it isn’t unpleasant, and goes in again.

When she pulls back, Regina’s eyes are faintly shining. She’s aware of how heavy she suddenly feels, and the warmth that fills her at the thought of how soon it will be before her body will let her experience that feeling again.

“How was that?” Robin asks, just a whisper, as he slides an arm around her waist. His fingers run along the indentations left in her back, where flowers have imprinted themselves in her skin. “Do you feel any different?”

A slow smirk spreads across Regina’s lips, and remains long after she has kissed the smug look off his face.

“I feel ready to do that again.”