As an outlaw living in the forest he was used to being up with the sun. Though the soft sheets and comfortable back support of the well sprung bed he was currently lying in were welcome new additions to his life, they still felt a little irregular to him. Relocating to Storybrook hadn't changed him that much. He turned his head away from the pre-dawn light that was just now starting to eek around the edges of the thick curtains, its light giving just enough illumination to make out the woman asleep next to him. She too was a new addition to his life, one that felt much more natural. This was his favourite time, before this world starts its chatter it's just the two of them cocooned in the soft dark grey of almost day.

He turns his body slowly to meet hers, spooning the line of her back again the firmness of his chest, the curve of her body nestled intimately against his as he draws their knees up a little together. The slight movement dips the mattress, making her settle more heavily against him with an unintelligible murmur. Good, he hasn't woken her. Sundays weren't for surprises, or for rude awakenings. She's not an early riser at heart, and Saturdays are for dinners and wine, and long conversations until early hours wrapped up in each other on the couch. He trails a work roughened hand lightly down the line of her shape, barely touching, losing himself momentarily in the fine hone of her skin. His mouth lowers slightly to kiss, drifting softly from dark base of her hairline to the slope of her back. He's wandering a little now, still gentle - gentle - over the lush, ripe curve of her breast. A single, callused finger catches on her hardening nipple and she sighs, beginning to stir. He's been ready since he opened his eyes, his manhood even now a hard, hot weight shaped against her, but it's not time yet. He moves his mouth to the vulnerable bend of her neck and fills his hands with her breasts, a warm, possessive grasp that brings a hum of pleasure from her throat and makes her body ripple in an instinctive arch towards the pleasure. He smiles as his tongue plays over her skin; she's so responsive in these moments, before thought can overcome feeling. He can draw her like a bow.

He shifts above her; letting her unresisting body roll back into the warm space he had occupied. Her eyes are barely open, her face flushed with sleep and rising need. A strong arm supporting him on either side of her head, he slips down to take her mouth in a hot, open kiss. Still weighted with sleep, her limbs are slow to respond as he lowers himself deliberately to press their bodies fully together. A beat and her limbs are sliding over his, clinging as he rolls his hips solidly against her, pulling a hard, heavy breath from her throat. Her brain can't engage properly against this sensual assault, a befuddling, liquid pulse throbbing through her. His questing fingers reach between them to slip through yielding wetness, finding that hard, sensitive pearl beneath, and she jerks against him. He's ruthless in her pleasure, wanting to hear again that gasping cry of "Robin!" as he pushes her higher, closer. Again. He's so hard now, tiny drops of liquid beading on his tip, but not yet. It's not time.

He rolls them over. This is what he wants. He pushes her up and gives a firm pinch to her nipples that has her shuddering. He slides into her easily and Gods! the feel of it. Hard hands at her hips stop her for a second, another, then ease back and force her legs wide. This is what he wants. The Queen open to him, so lost in the feeling of him that nothing else can interfere. Her hands knot into the sheets as he starts to guide her up and down, but he says no. He wants nothing anchoring her. Her pleas do nothing as he thrusts harder, her hands fist into her own hair, head thrown back, body a hard stretching arc. It's coming, coming, here, as he sits up and presses her tight to him, hot spurts and a hoarse cry joining her helpless shout of completion.

A dizzying shiver as her body comes down has her collapsing against him. Unmade. He brings them both into the haven of the bed and pulls the blanket over them. Her head against his chest, bodies tangled, he whispers a warm breath in her ear, "Sleep love". She's halfway there. He lies resplendent, luxuriating in the limp, acquiescence of her. Morning proper is here, but it doesn't matter. The sounds beginning outside can disturb neither of them now.