Yes, you're not hallucinating, this actually is a very surprising update! A lil' hiatus never killed nobody (except for my almost frozen over ass, some people will get what I mean). So be nice and drop me a quick word just to let me know if I have lost my touch with these two, lol
I apologize in advance for any screaming I'm about to cause. Enjoy! XXx

I fear a Man of frugal Speech

I fear a Man of frugal Speech -
I fear a Silent Man -
Haranguer - I can overtake -
Or Babbler - entertain -
But He who weigheth - While the Rest -
Expend their furthest pound -
Of this Man - I am wary -
I fear that He is Grand –

Regina wasn't answering.

He tried to reach her on Friday evening, but was met by the empty sound of an ignored phone. He got all sort of thoughts, on those days – he wanted to give her space, because maybe he had fucked things up on Tuesday – or worse, during the night, maybe she didn't like him as much as he thought she did.

Truth was, he had tried to reach her also on Thursday without an answer, and by now he knew the sound of her voicemail by heart. This is Regina Mills, please leave me a word after the sound…

He was missing her. So, instead of pining over a woman who wouldn't reply to his calls, he'd tried to focus on work and on calling his son. He'd stayed on Skype with Roland for two hours straight – Regina wasn't the only one he was missing, his heart was aching for his boy as well – though, of a very different kind of pain.

He stirred over the couch, shut his laptop down and closed his eyes.

Roland was a bright child, he truly was. He represented the only person who could make him talk to Marian – their split hadn't been amicable at all, they'd understood they were simply not meant to be together. And Marian was a good mother. He liked to think of himself as a good father too – even if this trip in Italy had brought some shadows of regret to his mind.

Roland didn't seem to be bothered by his absence – not yet, a hidden part of him thought. He was gone since a little more than a week – and he knew all too well he was supposed to stay in Venice for a month, he already had his flight tickets booked, but just yesterday Ingrid had mentioned that maybe she would have needed the team there for a bit longer.

And precisely that possibility had been the perfect fuel for a good fight with Marian. You're not thinking of your son, she'd said, digging deep into his chest, uncovering his already growing guilt. It's work, Marian, he had answered. You know how things go.

Then maybe you should rethink about your job – her words had cut, because she had always been like that – at first, supporting, but when the job got in her way, suddenly she wasn't so happy about it. It had been the main reason behind their endless fights, their respective jobs. Words had been painful and probably unfair – too many times. In that moment, he would have given a lung for a renewed relationship with Marian – not a romantic one, that chapter was closed for good, but at least a… friendly one? At least some sort of connection, because she couldn't seem to even try and put herself into his shoes.

But it was hard to reach this level of empathy through Skype and phone calls. I'll have to think about it, he promised himself. As soon as I land in America, I'll have a long talk with my ex-wife, and for Roland's sake I want to get to know the latest version of Marian, because maybe I'm still going by the old ways, and she's changed.

He opened his eyes, comforted by the resolution, and checked his phone again. All the warmth Roland had brought into his heart seemed to fade away like a bubble that explodes.

No answer.

But it was Friday evening, and it was late, and it was too late to go at her apartment. Should he actually have the courage to go there… maybe it was pushing too much, maybe she had her reasons. But not hearing from her since Wednesday, it was… concerning. He decided to give her time until Sunday afternoon, and then he would have gone there – at least to ask Ruby how Regina was.

He sighed, tossing the phone on the couch.

It was going to be a long weekend.

§§§

Robin wasn't answering.

Because you didn't call him again.

But even before of the… fact, when she had caught him hugging a pretty blonde, he hadn't been answering.

Maybe it's not what you think. Maybe she is not what you think.

And then why wouldn't he call me?

He had his reasons. You couldn't know, you met him last week.

And still… I thought I was able to read him. I thought he was… he was a good one. One of the good ones.

You think too much. Why does it bother you? You don't… love him already, do you? Because that would be foolish. And stupid. And weak.

.

On Sunday morning, Regina rolled over her bed, groaning. Her headache was getting worse, and she blinked in the sunlight, cursing for the first time the brightness of the room. She didn't remember much of the previous evening. Mal had dragged her outside, sick and tired of her sulking. And they had drunk.

Regina had always thought herself able to hide her emotions. She was a lawyer, for crying out loud, she had to be good at it. Acting.

But evidently, when it came to Robin Locksley, all of her acting skills simply disappeared, because she was as easy to read as an open book.

"Okay, you skipped dinner," Mal had said on Friday night, opening the door of her bedroom. "And I get you can have your reasons, but Granny is worried about your health," she had rolled her eyes, without smiling, "so tell me what's wrong, honey."

After the tale, Regina was expecting her friend to go and murder Robin right away – she had half an idea to do it herself, to be completely honest – but Mal had simply gone downstairs to retrieve a tray full of crackers, ham and a bottle of wine.

"We'll give him time," she had declared, popping the wine open with an expert move. "If he doesn't call before Monday, I'll go there and roast him."

"You can roast the blonde," Regina had replied, sitting on the bed next to the tray. "I think I'll do the honors with him, thanks."

And Mal had helped her finish the bottle, bid her goodnight, and she had thought the post-break-up strategy was finished – instead, Mal had asked Ruby about clubs in Venice, and they had gone dance on Saturday. She remembered Mal had stayed more or less sober, to watch on her, but the alcohol hadn't produced the desired effect. Instead, Regina had been victim of a sad kind of drunkenness, and that had probably worsened her situation.

Thus, her splendid Sunday headache.

And her phone was as silent as a tomb.

Damn Mal and her vodka shots, she thought, rising up on shaky legs. She knew that after two aspirins and some tea she would have gone back to almost-normal, but still, the sadness was lingering upon her soul. Sadness and… rage, in some way, rage at him, and at herself for believing him.

How could I be so stupid.

She swiped the phone's screensaver open – no calls, obviously, but there was an open tab from yesterday, and the memory shot through her like a bullet.

.

Regina was leaning on the counter, in the club, next to a nameless man whose face she had forgotten, and she was giggling like a school girl for something he had said. She could see Mal dancing not so far, out of the corner of her eye, and she knew Mal was occupied but still watching over her.

She motioned for the barman to pass her another drink, while listening to the man, who was rambling in a not-so-good English about Casanova. "You know him, Miss," he had said, "He's famous, right? Well, I think he'd have liked a girl like you," he continued, and suddenly his hand on her hip was not so pleasant, and she could feel his breath on her skin. "Or you have a Casanova already, uh?"

She'd slid away, untangling herself from his hands, and threw him a smile (a halfway thing between sorry and disgust), before finding Mal and telling her Can we go home now, please? I'm tired of this…

.

And then, when she'd arrived home, she'd researched for this famous man she had heard of, but knew almost nothing about… And here was his Wikipedia page, still open after the previous night…

Giacomo Casanova was an Italian adventurer and author from the Republic of Venice. His autobiography, Histoire de ma vie (Story of My Life), is regarded as one of the most authentic sources of the customs and norms of European social life during the 18th century. He has become so famous for his often complicated and elaborate affairs with women that his name is now synonymous with womanizer.

And it continued, reading down, and her heart had broken all over again while she read…

Casanova advises, "There is no honest woman with an uncorrupted heart whom a man is not sure of conquering by dint of gratitude. It is one of the surest and shortest means."
Alcohol and violence, for him, were not proper tools of seduction.
Instead, attentiveness and small favors should be employed to soften a woman's heart, but "a man who makes known his love by words is a fool".

What if this had happened to her too? It was an uncommon way to conquer a woman, that was for sure, an uncommon and antiquated way, but what if Robin had been acting this entire time just to lure her into his bed, what if the blonde was his latest catch?

The problem was that Regina didn't think she had an uncorrupted heart. Her heart had been bruised and hurt in many ways. If he thought she would react like Casanova's girls, sighing and pining after him, he was damn wrong. Oh, he shouldn't have awakened my heart to treat it like this, she thought.

A small, ignored part of her knew she had to listen to him, at least, and give him the benefit of the doubt. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the tiredness wash over her body.

§§§

On Sunday, at six pm, he was knocking at Granny's door with the hesitant adrenaline that comes from meeting someone who probably doesn't want to see you.

Ruby opened the door in a fluid swing. He couldn't help but notice the difference between her welcoming smile, the first time he'd been there, and her expression now. She wasn't… angry, but more like concerned? Confused?

"What are you doing here?" she asked, widening the space between her body and the door just a bit.

"Is Regina home?" he replied shortly. He didn't owe her an explanation, after all…

Ruby lifted an eyebrow, scrutinizing his face for a long moment. "Wait, I'll go and see if she's back."

She left him there, staring at a half-opened door, waiting to know if the woman he liked so much would have wanted to see him.

He heard a commotion, on the other side, but resisted the temptation of peeking in to discover what was happening. At the end, Ruby was gone, and… there was Regina, finally, and she wasn't smiling, but just seeing her, he was already feeling better, knowing she was not hurt or something like that… some thought he just couldn't fathom…

"Good evening," she said, coldly. "To what I owe the pleasure?"

He stared at her, dumbfounded, searching frantically in his memories to find something he must have done to piss her off like that. "Regina," he said, to gain time. "Can I come in?"

She didn't speak, but slid the door open to let him in – and yes, he supposed this was a small victory. As he entered the house – thankfully, a lot warmer than the outside – he was relieved to see that Ruby had disappeared, probably back in her room, and Granny or Mal were nowhere to be seen.

Regina led him in the kitchen, soldiering ahead of him, and motioned towards a chair. She sat in front of him, arms crossed on her chest, clearly waiting for him to start.

"So… where have you been these days?" he said, tentatively. He was walking on a minefield, here, and the only thing that was keeping him from getting angry was the fact that Regina seemed to be angrier than him.

"That's rich coming from you," she muttered. "I was here, but evidently you're already tired of me, or else you'd have called, am I right?"

Robin narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "I have called, Regina," he said. "Multiple times, to be exact."

"I didn't get any call from you."

"That can't be."

"Well, it is," Regina's voice had lowered, as if she was holding back from yelling at him. She slid a hand inside the pocket of her jeans and fished out her phone. "See for yourself."

He took it, uncertain, and went directly to the list of calls. And she was right, no calls from him since their last one before the ball. "How can this be?" he said, surprised. In a matter of seconds he'd taken his own phone and called hers, and they both stared to her screen, that stayed silent.

Regina took a breath – he was willing to bet she was cursing whatever deity of technology had messed up with her phone.

"Well, it was easier than we thought," he said, letting the faintest shadow of happiness filter through his voice. Regina was still staring at her phone – he wondered why, it was nothing that a trip to some shop couldn't fix. "What is it?" he asked her, keeping his voice low. "We solved the mystery, you see?"

She reached out for the phone, replacing it into a pocket of her long sleeved sweater. "Yeah, I guess so," she said, still avoiding his eyes.

He felt all the relief he had gained go away, because she clearly had some other problem. And she clearly didn't have any intention of sharing it with him. He held back a sigh, feeling it would have pissed her off more than she already was, and tried to ask. "Regina, what is it?"

She glanced up at him – he didn't see shyness or that kindness he was already used to, in her eyes, but instead he saw some sort of… hurt, mixed up with rage. "It's nothing, don't worry," she cut in.

"Don't lie to me," he told her, slowly.

And that was it.

"Oh, so I shouldn't lie to you?" she hissed, and he was struck dumb by the poisoned bitterness he felt in her words. "And, pray tell, why should I have such courtesy in your regards, since you don't think me worthy of the truth?"

He watched as she rose form her chair, and started pacing, taking deep breaths to calm down. His arms ached towards her, he wanted nothing else but to hold her. Instead, he had to fold his hands in his lap, and keep himself from reaching out. "What the hell are you talking about?"

As the words left his mouth, he regretted the drops of irritation in his voice. One of them needed to stay calm, in that dangerously fragile situation, and it clearly wasn't Regina. Regina, who had suddenly stopped in her tracks, facing him, hands on her hips.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, Robin Locksley," she said, gritting her teeth. "Was it really that hard, to tell me you were tired of me and you wanted another woman?"

The absurdity of her words hadn't even started to reach his brain, when she continued. Her tone had changed – not so enraged anymore, but hurt and pained. "I get why, believe me," she said, and he watched, horrified, as the first tears started to build up in her eyes – she didn't blink, though, determined on carrying on. "I know I'm not the easiest person to be with," she said, looking at him in the eyes. "But I thought we were… building something, or at least going in that direction – I mean, in the right direction, and…"

He waited for a heartbeat, while she sniffed once, and regained her composure. "… and I'd like, at least – at least, I think I have a right… to a reason. Because… I don't recall doing anything wrong, unless you just like to break hearts as a hobby. Well, guess what? If that's so, you can go to –"

She stopped right there, breathing heavily, and stared at him, waiting.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to have frozen – it felt a lot colder, now, that room, had it always been so cold? – and Robin was absolutely teared apart. He couldn't decide whether he should have kissed her right away, or yelled at her for this nonsense – or if he should have just gone away with a good slam of the door.

He chose another option, beginning with a single word.

"Regina," he started. "I'm about to ask you something very important… can you promise me you will believe me?"

"Believe you about what?"

"About the fact I absolutely ignore why you are so enraged with me," he stated firmly. She began opening her mouth to protest, but he rapidly shook his head to stop her. "I'm serious, love," he said. "Now that we've determined the issue about the phone calls… and it was unpleasant, I admit, and it could have brought both of us towards certain thoughts we are not proud of… but if this is resolved, then what's the matter?"

She was still standing, and he was sitting in front of her – he watched as her hands tightened around the chair's backrest. She closed her eyes for a long moment, and breathed out before reopening them.

He felt she was about to tell him, finally, when she went to sit in her chair for the first time since his arrival, and she looked so tired, he just wanted to hold her tight.

"On Friday evening, I came to your house," she said, without emotion in her words. "I already was a bit pissed because of the calls you wouldn't return, but now I know it wasn't your fault… anyway, I wanted to surprise you," she admitted, making his heart swell, and he held back a smile. "But when I arrived – I was about to knock, and… the curtains were half-closed, and I could peek inside your home," she continued.

She made a pause – this was the critical point, Robin could feel her battling against her own will to finish.

"And… I saw you, and… you were not alone."

Just like that, comprehension filled his heart, all at once. Together with it, an inexplicable willingness to laugh, but also a deep sorrow for the woman in front of him, who had misunderstood so terribly and suffered for it.

He smiled, though – he couldn't resist, because the relief was too much, but Regina wasn't smiling.

"Why on hell are you laughing?" she spat out – the words that were intended to cut him had the opposite effect, and her voice cracked in the middle of the phrase.

"I'm sorry," he rushed to say. No doubt she was only seconds apart from slapping him, with such a frown. "It's just… oh, Regina," he smiled widely. "There's no other woman besides you, love."

She was silent for a moment, staring in disbelief, and even after that moment, she was only able to produce a soft Oh. He continued to wait until she asked.

"But then… who… who was the blonde with you?"

Robin didn't answer right away, but reached for the pocket of his coat and then for his wallet. He opened it, and retrieved an old picture, its corners all yellow and ruined.

He passed her the photo, watching her confused frown as she took and observed it. "Regina Mills, it is a pleasure to introduce you to my sister, Anastasia."

§§§

An idiot.

A complete, massive, gigantic, utter and perfect idiot.

That's how she felt in that moment, her fingers gripping the picture. She had been staring at it for at least three whole minutes, not daring to lift her eyes from the smiling faces of Robin and his blonde sister.

Oh god. His sister.

She would have given almost anything to disappear, in that moment. To hide under the earth crust and go down, down until she reached the melting pot of lava and could burn of despair and embarrassment.

"Your… sister."

"Precisely," he said, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. "My sister, who lives in Venice since last year, because her husband currently works here."

Oh, god. Regina reached the table, placing down the picture, and still, she didn't lift her eyes. She didn't know what to say – except that she was feeling so damn stupid, and it was taking all of her self-control not to run away and hide in shame.

"Robin, I…" she tried, but the words didn't quite exit her mouth. It was almost like something was burning in her throat, constricting it to a pit of flames.

He neared her with his hand, stopping just before touching her fingers. She covered the remaining distance and squeezed, finally lifting her eyes and meeting his gentle smile. "I have to say, darling, now that I know it was a misunderstanding, I quite fancy you all jealous," he joked, but she shook her head, groaning, and covered her forehead with her palm.

"I feel so stupid," she muttered. "I'm… I'm so sorry."

"Did you honestly think I'd have betrayed you like that?"

He pronounced the words lightly, but couldn't hide the hurt that still lingered in his mind. She lowered her hand to envelope his. "I'm sorry," she repeated. She was feeling her cheeks burning, by now, and every now and then she was glancing at the picture.

"Regina, stop saying you're sorry, for heaven's sake," he said, squeezing her hand. "I'd have done the same."

"You would have?"

"I'd probably have entered the room and questioned the man about his intentions without even asking who he was," he smiled. "You don't have a secret brother, do you?"

"No, just the sister I told you about," Regina answered, feeling like a heavy weight was being lifted from her chest.

"Well that's a relief," he chuckled. "But honestly, I thought I'd made myself clear, by now, on how much I care for you… and want you."

She suddenly became very aware of their proximity – during their talk, chairs had been shifted and hands had been intertwined, bringing them close, much closer than before. "Maybe…" she was waltzing on dangerous ground here, but she thought they were settled enough for her to poke a bit. "Maybe you haven't made yourself clear on how much you want only me."

He lifted the corner of his lips, and raised an eyebrow. His hand left her gently to go up and cup her cheek. "Oh, haven't I?" he murmured. "Allow me to fix it, then."

Her head tilted almost unconsciously, as he neared her, his hand going from her cheek to the back of her head between her hair. When their mouths met, he initiated the kiss slowly, but quickened the pace almost instantaneously. He became hungry for her, she could feel it, nipping at her lip, his hand circling her neck, bringing her closer. She moaned softly – he smiled against her mouth, at the sound, then restarted kissing her, and it was nice, this was better, this was them – she had missed this, she thought.

When Robin slid his hand down, around her waist, she scrambled up, trying not to break the kiss, and went to sit in his lap. She cupped his cheeks, continuing with the power play of their tongues, and shifted easily to settle better above his thighs. "Regina," he groaned, making her smile. She felt him hardening, under herself, and couldn't resist – she started rocking her ass against his erection, ever so slowly, gaining an immediate reaction from him.

"Bloody Christ, woman," he gritted through his teeth. "You are a wonder."

"I know," she whispered, shifting her lips to his ear, placing them on his neck. Her hand slid down to his upper leg, then in the middle, between his legs, to feel his bulge pressing over the fabric of his trousers. He moaned again in her ear – a low, guttural sound, which went straight to her already wet core. "I have a proposition for you," she said, in a tone she could only hope was tempting enough.

"What is it," he asked, without stopping the trail of kisses he'd just started placing on her neck. She closed her eyes for a second, just slightly… distracted.

"There's lasagna in the fridge," she whispered in the crook of his shoulder. "And then I suggest we go straight to my room, because – ah – I am not done with you."

"How could I say no to such a program," he was still on her neck, but then, instead of leaving her, he began sucking her skin, making her tremble.

Her hand went to his shoulders, and although she was quite unwilling to interrupt their little… exchange, she was sure Granny would have had something to say, catching them at the start of a dry-hump in her kitchen. "Come on," she pushed gently, but moaned when his lips found a particular point of her skin.

After a moment, he finally stopped. "As milady wishes," he sighed. She got up slowly, taking his hand, and he followed her lead. He circled her from behind when she opened the door of the fridge, retrieving the leftovers.

As Regina opened the microwave, putting the plate inside, his hands were on her hips, ghosting just under her over-sized sweater. "If you keep distracting me, we'll never eat," she chastised jokingly, but leaned on him when his lips pressed on the crown of her head.

"Maybe I had something else in mind for dinner," he murmured. She felt his hand leave her hip and move towards her stomach, and she immediately covered it with her own before he could descend.

She watched the plate turn and turn inside the small oven, and closed her eyes, smiling. "You can keep that for dessert," she suggested. "Even if I do believe we have some pastries."

"Magical," he murmured in her ear.

They had dinner quickly; Regina perched on his lap again, occasionally stealing food from his fork. She thanked the heavens Mal had gone out for dinner, because the pretty picture they were currently representing was worthy of a Disney movie. Still, she relished in its sappiness, especially as he tapped her nose with a small kiss.

"Oh, Regina?" he told her towards the end – the plates were almost empty, and she was feeling satiated and content (at least about one of her needs).

"Mmh?" she asked wordlessly.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he smiled. Oh, shit – he was right, it was the 14th. She moved to face him, and found two very amused blue eyes staring at her.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you," she answered, exchanging the smile. She had never liked this day too much – too sappy, too stupidly fake for her liking – but there was a certain something, when you got to celebrate it with the right person. She nuzzled his nose, and her smile didn't falter – it widened, as Robin gave her a short but deep kiss.

Definitely worth celebrating.

.

They giggled like two schoolkids as they climbed up the stairs to her room. He was bringing the pastries in one hand, holding her hand with the other, and she had a bottle of wine stolen from Granny's supplies – she made a mental note to go and buy a new one, during one of the following days.

"Are we alone, apart from Ruby?" he whispered, as they reached the end of the corridor.

"Yes," she answered. Robin pushed her door with one foot, but it didn't unlock, so she sighed and cradled the bottle like a newborn, leaving his hand to push down the handle.

She turned to face him, motioning towards the inside with a smile. "Come in," she said, following him in the room and flicking the lights on. While he placed the tray down on her desk, she quickly lit the candles that Ruby's mother had left there from her previous stay.

"I don't have the proper glasses, I'm afraid," she told him, looking around. "But I think… ah, yes – " she still had some plastic glasses from some days before. "Do you want to do the honors?"

She held him the glasses, while he popped the bottle open, letting the liquid flow. "It's Moscato," she whispered. "I owe Granny a good bottle."

"Oh well," he smiled, "when the cat's away…"

"…I certainly hope you plan to play a bit, yes," she lifted the glass as he replaced the bottle down on the desk. "To what do we toast?"

"To beautiful jealousy, my sweet," he answered. Regina shook her head, but brought her glass to metaphorically clink against his. Right after she drank the last sip, he was staring at her intently.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, but cradled her cheek, and she was lured to look at his eyes. She swam into the blue, waiting to see what he was going to do. He neared her, but then he surprised her kissing her forehead instead of her lips. She felt his lips press on her skin for a long moment. Inhaling his scent, she pressed her nose against his sweater, and sighed.

"Another round?"

"Why, yes," she agreed. This time, she sat on the bed, and he went to sit next to her, pouring the second dose of wine into her glass. "Thanks," she said. "To secret sisters."

He chuckled, lifting his glass, and he was still smiling as he drank. She slid a hand towards the tray, taking a small pastry. He watched her, and opened slightly his mouth as she lifted it to his lips, but then she smiled and ate it in a single gulp. They ended up doing two or three more rounds, emptying a good portion of the bottle and the tray, until he was kissing her, and he tasted like wine and cream and strawberries.

"You feel amazing," she murmured against his mouth. They were still sitting, but she knew it wasn't going to last long. The kiss grew heated, she reveled in the feeling of his hand between her hair – he really liked her hair, especially when she was wearing it down – and his other hand on hers, toying with her fingers. She felt her palm sweat, pressing it against his, and tugged at the collar of his shirt. Her fingers sneaked towards his chest, unfastening the first button.

Robin's hand had gone down, equally eager to get her undressed. The question was, who was going to reach their aim first. She tugged at his hair, eliciting a low groan, and pressed her thigh against his – thankfully, she hadn't had time to switch her jeans for her sweatpants yet, so although her sweater wasn't the sexiest thing she owned, at least she was better covered on the legs. The seam of her jeans was pressing uncomfortably against her clit – she could already feel her panties getting slippery, and if she had been wet before dinner, she couldn't imagine how she was right now.

Regina tried to rub her thighs together, to get some pressure there, to relieve at least a small part of her… needs, but he noticed almost immediately, and of course he grinned, and his hand went down, down, just to that point, and began rubbing slowly. "Perhaps I can help you?" he asked, with that cocky smile she liked so much.

"You'll better," she said, in a jokingly stern tone. "But I'm far too overdressed for you to do anything…"

He didn't answer, because he had already captured her mouth in another kiss, but this time, his fingers were working on her sweater, pushing it down. It ended on the floor, along with her black shirt underneath, socks, and his shirt, all rumpled. The little pile of clothes started growing – he tugged at her jeans, but she wanted him to lose his first. So Regina cupped his cheeks, pushing him down towards the mattress, straddling him, and she could tell he was very much enjoying the sight of her lacey bra.

(That was one of Mal's rules – no matter if your man has enraged you, always treat yourself and wear the best lingerie you own.)

"Regina, please," he said, as if he was surrendering – she smiled, at that, her hair bobbing free just past her shoulders, her hands splayed on his chest.

"Please what?" she asked wickedly, even if she knew exactly what he wanted.

He groaned, squirming under her – she felt his trapped hardness against herself, and started grinding gently, even if they both still had their trousers. Up and down, slowly, until he was capturing her wrists in a steely grip, biting his lip, and moaning Jesus Christ, Regina, I don't –

But she didn't let him finish, because she crashed her lips down on his, silencing his protests. Her wiggling became quicker, steadier; she found a rhythm, enjoying the small and delicious dose of power that comes from torturing a man in the best of ways. She bit his lips, lightly, his eyes were closed, and his trousers against hers harder than ever.

"Do you want me to take care of that?" she murmured, causing his throat to let out a weird sound between Yes and Oh, God – she smirked, nearing her lips to his ear. "Undress me," she said, almost ordered, but he seemed turned on by her tone, because he lifted up, sitting straight on the mattress, and placed his hand on her waist, then one hand moved to unbutton her jeans.

She kissed his neck while he worked there, muttering At least it's better than with your ball gown, and she laughed against his skin. The fabric went down quite easily, his hand cupping the curve of her ass, sliding between the trousers and her panties, and pushing down.

She lifted a bit to let him free her, but it wasn't quite working. So she had to leave the warmth of his lap to stand, and now her jeans got off easily. She pushed them aside, on the floor, next to the other clothes, and stood up for a moment, basking in the sight of pure lust on his face.

"Your turn," she lifted her chin, motioning at his trousers. He didn't stand up, but struggled against the fabric directly from the bed. Of course, he wasn't wearing skinny jeans, so it was rather simple for him.

The floor gathered another piece of clothing, and soon Regina was sitting next to him again. He circled her waist, drawing her towards him. His hand was behind her neck, and she knew he was going to kiss her again, but she currently had other plans. "Lie down," she instructed. He threw her a confused look – oh, so he didn't believe she would do what she was planning to do – better for me, she thought, pushing him gently. She tugged at the elastic of his boxers, her hand passing right there, feeling his hardness. He gulped, then, because he finally got what she was about to do.

"Oh, love, you don't have to –" he started, but she lifted a finger to her lips.

"I want to," she answered, all serious. The fabric covering him went down too, leaving him almost naked, and he was quick to get rid of it, with a little help from her hand. When she started pumping, he closed his eyes, her hand circling him, and she watched his face, the low sound of pleasure he made.

"Remember, we are not alone," she said. "You'll have to keep it extra quiet."

Then, as if she wanted to test his limits, she lowered herself down, taking him into her mouth. "Oh, fuck," he said though gritted teeth. Regina thought she would have laughed, had she not been in that position. She lifted her lips for a moment, just to say Keep quiet again, and then took it again all the way down, circling it with her tongue. His hand went between her hair, but left that place almost instantaneously to go grip the pillow.

"Fuck – Regina – ah, yes –" he muttered. "Like that, love…"

She kept her pace, not too quick or too slow, but rhythmic, lapping and sucking, drawing circles. She felt him react to her touch, to her hand on his skin, and that gave her a good sensation, her own insides throbbing and aching for his touch. She swirled her tongue on his tip, as he murmured Fucking goddess against the pillow – the fact he was forced to repress his moans not to be heard made her bolder, as she gave him a particular suck…

"R-Regina – if you keep doing that – I'm going to…"

She couldn't nod, so she brought up a hand to his hip and squeezed in agreement, without leaving him, ever – she tasted his semen, when he couldn't resist anymore, cleaned up his tip with a last swirl, and swallowed the remnants as he collapsed on the sheets. All of her blankets were now pushed aside by their movements, half on the ground, half on the chair. She crawled towards him, bringing up a hand to her mouth and wiping it clean.

He was smiling at her, with that idiotic expression of an ecstatic man. "That was… amazing, love," he told her, his hand cradling her cheek. "Thank you."

"Happy Valentine's Day," she answered, going to lie next to him. They stood still for a moment, just the time to recover from their last exertion.

Then, Robin went to sit, and she watched him, puzzled. "What is it?"

He turned his head to watch her (and what a phenomenal vision she must have been, splayed on the mattress and half naked) and told her, "I told you I wanted you for dessert, my sweet."

She shivered, at that, shivers of the pleasure that was coming her way already buzzing through her core. His hand pushed her panties aside, but didn't lower them. Instead, he slid one finger down to her wetness, and smirked. She lifted an eyebrow, and said "Yeah, it's like that since quite a while."

"Oh, we must find a solution, then," he replied, juggling down her panties, until they reached her ankles, and lifted gently her feet to free her. "Spread your legs, please," he told her. She complied instantly, smiling at him, but she paled when he let out a laugh and said "Now let's see if you can keep it quiet."

Oh shit.

She already knew she wasn't going to, so she fisted the sheets, the pillow, already feeling his fingers between her legs, pumping once or twice – not that she needed it, she was wet as fuck since their dinner.

"Oh, Regina? Not a sound," he warned her, before lowering his head between her thighs. When his tongue found her clit, the first moan escaped her, but she bit her lower lip hard, closing her eyes, focusing on him, on his skilled ability to make her quiver after a few seconds.

"R-Robin, please," she groaned, drops of sweat running down her neck to her spine. She was so turned on already, that it wasn't going to take long, she knew it. He added his fingers, giving her the pressure she needed, stroking her right there with firm circles. She knew he didn't know whether to watch her come or to continue eating her out, oh fuck, and his indecision was going to cost her dignity, because if she couldn't scream, then –

Her feet pushed on the mattress, toes curling, "Yes!" she said, frantically, "Yes, please, right there, more –"

He wasn't holding back, and he gave her a last strong suck at her clit before lifting his head to watch her, his fingers quickened their pace. She threw back her head, opened her eyes, she stared at the ceiling without seeing it. The current of pleasure was too much, and he kept saying her things, Come for me, love, you are so beautiful, let go – her mouth opened too, in an instinctive reflex, her knees shaking, her belly lifting towards his fingers. And finally, finally, she rode out her orgasm, Robin stroke her until she couldn't take it anymore, until the pleasure was too much, she pushed aside his fingers, and her legs fell down from their bended position, splaying open. She breathed heavily, trying to emerge from her black out.

She was only slightly aware of Robin's lips kissing her there, kissing her scar, reverently, then kissing her lips, where she tasted herself.

They lied together for a while, listening to the other's breaths, and feasting in their new-found connection.

§§§

If there was one sensation he loved, it was being wrapped around Regina's naked, warm body, in the quiet moments that followed their sexual encounters. (And this was just the second one. How could he be so addicted to this feeling already? How could it be that he didn't want this feeling to stop? If he could have chosen a moment to die, it would have been this one.)

She shifted in his arms, and the coldness of her fingers made him repress a shiver. Thankfully, he spotted the blankets they had removed before, perched on the chair near her desk. They slid easily over their bodies, and he felt Regina sigh contently and settling more comfortably. He was spooning her, and couldn't see her face, but only hold her.

He started tracing paths on her forearm, with his hand, sleepiness washing all over him like a cascade of warmth and relaxed, slow breaths.

"It happened in a car crash."

Regina spoke quietly, so low he wasn't sure to have actually heard her.

"When… Daniel died, he was driving," she said. He noticed she'd started brushing over his skin with her fingers. He stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt her. He wanted to give her the chance to open herself up to him, because there still were a lot of things they didn't know of each other. So, he just squeezed lightly her arm, to make her understand he was listening.

"Another man was driving on the other side of the road… he was drunk," she continued. "I… I was sitting on the backseat, because – it's stupid, but when we left home, Daniel told me to seat there so he could be my personal chauffeur, like in a taxi or a limousine, and I just… laughed, and told him Okay, fine," her last words exited in a mere whisper. Robin could tell she was hurting, but he hoped this story was also cathartic in some way.

"So the drunk driver hit the car… and both cars stopped, because they both managed to brake, but it was too late – our front seat was completely crashed… they told me the other man died instantaneously, but Daniel didn't," she murmured. "I had time to crawl there, and listen to his final words while the ambulance arrived."

She stood silent for a moment, probably reviving Daniel's last minutes, then started talking again. "I have two things to remember him. My ring…" she made it turn around her finger, in a spontaneous reflex. "My ring, and my scar. They told me I was lucky to be alive, that… had I been in the front seat, I would have died too…" she rested her head on his chest. He listened to her slow breaths, thanking all the stars that he was, indeed, getting the marvelous chance to hold her in his arms, alive and breathing and beautiful.

He felt the wetness of a tear on his skin, and dropped a kiss on her hair, knowing that words wouldn't have been such a comfort in that situation.

"I didn't feel lucky," she continued, her voice steady despite the crying. "Because we… were about to marry, and I lost one of the most important persons of my life in the blink of an eye... and I haven't told you the best part," she said in an almost-chuckle, too sarcastic to be really amused. "That day, we… were going to a place, in Boston… to meet our adoptive son for the first time."

Robin heard her voice crack on the last sentence, and opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn't know exactly, but she beat him to it. "Of course, after the accident –it changed it all, I suddenly was… well, not a widow, but… I believe they said Not fit to raise a child on her own," she said. "And… they were right, I think. I was a mess… I couldn't…"

Her voice definitely broke, and he held her tighter while she cried. "Regina…" he tempted, closing his eyes and taking a breath. He didn't know what to say – he didn't want to say a lame sentence like I'm sorry for you, because the word sorry couldn't even start to describe the profound ache he was feeling in that moment. "Thank you for telling me this," he said instead, placing his lips on her hair, caressing it with the hand that wasn't occupied holding her.

They stayed like that for a while, until her shaky sobs subsided into slower breaths. She never lifted her eyes to meet his, but he knew that just the thought of having someone to hold her, a warm presence who wanted to understand her, could have done miracles for her soul. He continued listening to her breathing, until he finally knew she was asleep.

He stayed still, reveling in the fact that she was there. He whispered against her hair, before falling asleep too. I've got you now, and I won't let you go.