She doesn't know quite when the change happened, at what point they went from sitting next to each other to her draped over his lap, their kisses changing from deliberate and absorbed to something hungrier. His hands, which had started lightly tracing the line of her ribcage down to the flare of her waist, back and forth, were now roaming her body. The heat of his palms sinks through her clothes and into her skin, bringing a warm flush to her cheeks, the excitement making her feel heavier and full as instinct has her pressing harder against his chest.

The need for air has them break off the kiss, both panting and laughing a little; Regina because she didn't think it could feel like this, and Robin because he knew it would.
Amusement changes to something more tender as he places a kiss on the corner of her mouth, her chin, then ghosts his lips over the edge of her jaw and down the line of her throat, coming to rest in the sensitive bend of her neck. He lingers there, her head listing to the side to grant him better access, the weight of his body laying her down into the plushly carpeted floor. He raises his head, seemingly satisfied with the glazed expression in her eyes and the faintest red reminder of his whiskers at her collarbone. His hands find her breasts, kneading them with strong fingers through the fabric, every move drawing closer and closer to the place she needs them. Agonizing minutes later he grazes the aching, hard tips and the contact brings a needy sound from her. He likes that. Harder now, his thumbs work the pebbled crests, enjoying the tiny moans that accompany each tug. Her damned dress feels too tight, and a feral part inside wants him to rip it from her, to wrap herself around him and force him to take her. She pushes herself up onto her elbows, the movement distracting him from that delicious, rhythmic pull at her chest and back to her face. "Undress me" she says in a smoky whisper, "I want to feel you on my skin". It earns her a hot, open mouthed kiss, tongue robbing her of words, but when he draws back that half smile he's so good at is back, "All in good time" he tells her.

His hand starts making small circles over her stomach, "I like the clothes of this land" he murmurs, hand sliding across to caress her hips, and down to hold under her thighs. She falls back to the floor and he can feel the faint tremble of tension in her limbs. "And these," he strokes the fine sheer sheen of her stockings, "I like these". He follows the shape of them up, bringing the hem of her dress with him, until he reaches heavier lace, cunning, tiny hooks, and dainty straps. He gives a hum of pleasure as he uncovers them, appreciates the pale skin against the black silk. "Beautiful" he compliments sincerely. He reaches out a finger and gently – gently – traces a line down the scrap covering her most intimate flesh, feeling the clench of her stomach under the fisted bunch of material and smiling at the gasp she can't hold back. There's a spot of moisture spreading from the centre, he notices a little smugly; proof of her desire. He releases her garters, but makes no move to roll them down, opting instead to skim his hand up under her panties to hold her hips. "These, on the other hand," soft stroking, thumbs moving maddeningly down the delicate line of flesh at the top of her thigh "are surplus to requirements". He slides them off, baring her to him. He moves over her taut body and fuses his mouth to hers, letting her feel the press of every inch of him. His arousal is hot and hard and obvious, even through his pants. The way it notches into just the place she needs it has her hitching up involuntarily against him as he plunders her mouth, the fabric slightly rough and perfect against that aching part of her. He slips his hand between them and into her folds, finding the little bundle of nerves that makes her cry out hoarsely. He continues to play with her, reveling in the noises she's making and in the jerk of her against him every time the callous on his fingertip hits the tiny peak of her. Eventually, when every breath brings a short, high moan, he disengages himself, resisting her attempt to hold him there.

He brings her up with him and maneuvers her on to the couch. Splaying her legs he plants a row of teasing kisses up the inside of her thigh before finally reaches his destination. His tongue delving inside that wet, secret place has her bucking against him, a litany of fragmented pleas and raw, carnal groans "God... please...ah! There there! Mm, I can't-" fill the air, making his own sex twitch hard in its cotton boundaries. He stops his petting licks and captures the half hooded nub in his lips, sucking firmly. Her body thrusts up, hands scrabbling above her to try and anchor onto the smooth wooden ridge of the sofa back. Her dress, still encasing her from the waist up, the basque underneath still confining her, intensified the sensations below, emphasizing the open stretch of her legs and his head moving between them. She's so. damn. close. she just can't... quite... reach. He senses her frustration and brings a finger to her swollen opening. Two. Her cries dissolve into helpless rhythm of "Robinrobinrobinrobinrobinrob-ROBIN!" as he finds that spot deep within her that has her whole body bending back back back, as supple as any bow he's drawn. She hangs in that arc for a timeless moment as she climaxes, then, spent, shudders down boneless onto the cushions.

When thought begins to piece back together she turns her dazed, slumberous gaze to him, and realizes while he was waiting for her to return he's undone his pants, freeing his thick length. His hand is wound loosely around, slowly, lazily working himself. Her eyes turn darker and she slowly licks her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, considering. Robin freezes for a second at her look, hand squeezing a little stronger at a sudden, vibrant image of Regina on her knees in front of him, thrusting into her mouth, and can tell from the glowing embers in her look that she's thinking it too. His voice is rough, "Another time, I promise" and he tugs gently at her knees, "Come here to me". She slides slowly down, catching herself on the very edge so he can guide her down to his waiting arousal. She gives a small whine in the back of her throat as her body protests, still thick from their previous passion. He's breathing endearments to her, and almost frenzied encouragements. "A little more, you can do it – God you feel so good, take it – take it all" and then a low, rumbled growl to her light moan as her body accepts and slides home. Filled and still over-sensitized, trapped between the solid weight of his body and the unyielding furniture behind her, she takes a moment to adjust to the intrusion, his head sinks to her shoulder as he tries to resist the urge to drive up into her. A few second pass and she trails her hands up his back, wrapping her legs securely around his waist. It's all the signal he needs to start a deep, thick rut, pushing into her again and again. It doesn't take long for his hips to lose the steady, regular pulse and become faster and more frantic, locking in as his release surges into her.

They sit quietly for a moment, letting their hearts stop pounding and their breath steady. He pulls out of her carefully, and brings them to rest on the rug, her head leaning on his chest. After a moment she laughs, and he looks at her inquisitively. "I can't believe we did all that and we're still essentially fully dressed" she explains. He surveys her disheveled form. "I'm never going to be able to see you in that outfit again without wanting to bend you over a table".

"I'll keep that in mind"

They look at each other for a second, and he kisses her. "Show me the bedroom" he says, "The first time I see you naked I want it to be spread out on a bed". She swallows, a little unsteadily, and lets him help her up.

"This way"