hellorhighwater | [GENESSIA] Inbox

As he knelt, she drank another long swallow of ice water and then set the glass aside to move to the edge of the couch. She hardly waited for the second knee to touch the ground before she reached out to cradle his jaw in her hand, tilt his head up enough so she could look into his eyes.

A significant part of her wanted to take the space he was in and use it. Kiss him once softly, and leave him to kneel there while she ate. Feed him a bite of food from her plate, press a foot to his crotch and let him rock against it, stroke his hair and then stand and walk away, so that he couldn't see but only hear her. That part wanted to see just how far she could put him into this raw, exposed, vulnerable space and how long he'd stay there.

But they hadn't intended anything like this, and she was still raw from the week and last night especially. While she would happily explore what got him hot, she couldn't let herself do it while teetering at the edge of an emotional precipice. So she didn't do any of those things, only murmured his name and then drew him towards her to rest his head on her knees.

He nuzzled into her hand the moment she cradled his jaw, eyes shutting with another heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure when he stopped thinking, but he had: his head felt beautifully empty, safe and so light he would have floated away if not for the hand on his face, the soft sound of his name on her lips, tethering him to the spot.

She drew his head to rest on her knees, and the lightness felt heavy again, like her fingers wrapped around his wrist. He felt steady, a stone in a swift moving river sinking deeper and deeper beneath the surface. He just had to sit there and breathe, let her touch him...

Bit by bit, that steady feeling crept into Neil’s thoughts, making him feel...more normal. Breath came freer, his head felt less fuzzy and foggy—and as he knelt there with his head on her knees, he felt good, but kind of embarrassed.

He wasn’t totally sure what the hell had happened to his damn brain—but he wanted to figure it out so he could do it again.

Drawing a deep breath, Neil twisted his head to press a kiss to her knee, one hand fumbling to find hers.

“M’ okay.” He sighed, trying to lift his head. “Hey—I’m okay, Regina.”

While he rested with his head on her knees, she smoothed her hand over his hair, and draped her arm across his shoulders to keep him close, warm, and grounded with the weight of it. But her mind roved the last five minutes, reviewing it backward and forward, and lingered on how he'd looked just as he knelt: beautiful, and so very much hers.

Between that and how he'd looked with his jeans opened--as she'd requested, just so, she was more than a little aroused and slick herself. Which was probably why when she raised her hand from his head, she looked down at him with a single eyebrow lifted and a little smirk curving her lips. "I'm glad. Because you look good on your knees."

But she only let the comment rest a beat before she stroked his cheek with her knuckles. "You looked like you might need a minute to breathe."

The look on her face made him grin as he looked up at her, his hand finding one of hers and linking their fingers together. He felt like himself again, even if he missed that pleasant haze just a little. What he liked was that steady feeling, still clinging to his bones--and when she touched his cheek, a little piece of that haze tried to creep back in, but just a ghost of it as his eyes shut and he tipped his head into her touch while his smile grew wider.

"Look good, feel good." he chuckled, opening his eyes to look up at her again. He probably ought to get up, join her on the couch...get her into bed or he was going to lose his damn mind, he wanted her so badly--but he stayed where he was, reluctant to move from his place at her feet just yet.

Instead, he drew their linked fingers in to kiss her knuckles, then just pressed his mouth against her fingers and left them there for a moment, brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"That's...I've never felt like that before." he confessed when he lifted his lips from her fingers. "Was that a spell or something? 'Cause if it was, it was an amazing one."

Did you feel good? she wanted to ask, to clarify, but when he pressed his lips to her knuckles, she waited, giving him time to gather himself, or think, or whatever he needed from his silence. Besides, his kisses always felt like silk sliding against her skin, and she hadn't stopped being aroused because she'd called a temporary halt to the play.

Quiet and still, she watched him, her gaze tracing his furrowed brow and the lines beside his mouth. As always, his face fascinated her with its rugged beauty and bold expressions, and now, in this moment, it drew the fingers of her free hand, beckoning them to follow the path of her gaze--with every stroke of her fingerpads, she wrote confessions of her love into his skin.

It was only a moment, but she'd already lost herself in her study of his face when he spoke, and it took her a moment to orient herself. As she did, she turned her hand to cup his jaw again and her lips curved softly with a knowing smile. "It's chemistry, not magic." She didn't know what chemistry precisely, but she could learn, if she needed to. "Like after you had me in the shower."

Neil's eyes drifted briefly shut as her fingers mapped his face, the blessedly familiar feel of that loving touch both electric and soothing. It started his mind to drifting again, just a tiny bit, a ghost of before. It wasn't enough to distract him--save for the fact that he was still emphatically distracted by the prospect of sex, and the potential benefits of being on his knees while she wore a short enough dress to push up over her hips...

He made himself open his eyes and focus on what she was saying--and it didn't make sense. It earned her another thoughtful frown as he released her hand, letting his fall to rest on her knee, fingers absently tracing the side along the bent curve of her leg.

"But...there was nothing rough to that, and we weren't even having sex." he pointed out curiously, watching his fingers travel higher up her leg, stroking along the line between the hem of her dress and her bare skin. "How are they alike?"

"What I feel," she began, her voice deepened and velveted in response to his potent, focused caresses, as much as the memory of how thoroughly he'd had her. "It's like I step outside my brain, and there's nothing but what I'm feeling."

His fingers strayed beneath the hem of her dress, and she grinned, shook a finger at him, and then caught his wrist to stop him going further. "It's not just the roughness or the sex. It's the trust. Putting myself into your hands. I think that's what happened."

The feel of her fingers catching his wrist again damn near stopped his heart, thrilling and comforting at the same time, bringing his mind to a screeching halt...

...and it made the whole thing a lot clearer in his mind, once he could make the wheels start turning again. The life of a soldier was a life of blind obedience and dealing with its consequences. Life in the service of the Night Dragon wasn't that much different--at the mercy of his king, unable to do anything less than as he was told. Serving as a soldier, as an assassin--forced to trust those he couldn't trust--it required perfect control over absolutely everything else that was remotely within his grasp.

Regina could give him an order, any order...and he could put himself completely into her hands, had put himself into her hands, let himself fall and felt her catch him. Nothing else existed but that, and he didn't have to think or worry or even stay inside his own skin unless she touched him--and that made him feel tethered, connected in a way he never had.

Nothing else existed save for trusting her and getting lost in that connection they shared.

"I get it." he replied simply, a world of understanding in those three simple words...then after a beat he grinned and twisted his wrist free of her grip so he could go back to running his fingers over her bare thigh.

As tempting as it was to ask him to explain what he thought he understood to her, she only lifted both eyebrows, head tilted, to give him an amused look. Her gaze dropped to his fingers, traveled up along his arm to his face, and then dropped again to watch the worshipful way he touched her. It wasn't just love and desire, she'd begun to see: it was service offered without hesitation to his queen.

"Good, because I'm still hungry." A beat, a grin, and she rubbed her foot against the outside of his leg, the arch drawing slowly up from his knee to his thigh in a demonstration of the intimate power she could hold over him. "For food." Then carefully, gently, she lay her foot over the bulge only partially obscured behind his open zipper. "And then for you."

That caress made him smile with its familiarity—how she’d driven him to distraction the first night they spent together, exercising power over him even then...

Neil hissed softly as she rested her foot against his erection, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers stilled on her leg. It was a light touch, careful, but enough to wipe his mind clean of everything but the urge to rut against it, to chase that promise of more. It was almost enough to draw him back down into his own head, to let her have him however she wanted—even if that was not at all.

His own stomach chose that moment to growl then, audibly, ensuring that Regina’s word would be law without the fun part.

Grinning, Neil bent his head to kiss her knee, then started to rise so he could finish with the food—and grit his teeth when his knee wouldn’t immediately obey him, stiff from kneeling too long. Cursing quietly, he planted a hand on the arm of the sofa and leveraged himself up with a huff, carefully bending and flexing it until the stiffness eased and he could use his leg again.

“Dinner. Right.” He agreed...and because he was feeling contrary, zipped his fly back up with a smirk before he set to finish fixing them both a plate.

First food. Then she could have her floor show back.

"Next time I ask you to kneel," Regina said pointedly, because there would definitely be a next time, and a next, and a next--unless he didn't want there to be, which she didn't think was going to be an issue. "There will be a cushion. And if it's too long for comfort, you will tell me." No room for argument, no threat. He knew she could enforce her will for good or ill, so there was no need.

Likewise, she didn't pout or protest when he zipped his jeans. They'd crossed a line, he felt exposed or contrary or whatever he felt, and they both needed to be comfortable and to trust that the other would press pause or stop if things went too far. She did, however, watch him and then glance up to meet his eyes to acknowledge he'd done it.

"Have I mentioned that you're surreally gorgeous?"

"...deal." he agreed, after a pause to protest, then promptly think better of it. Ember's Balls, he was going to get turned on every time she told him what to do from now on.

Well, more turned on than usual.

He was keenly aware of her eyes on him as he finished getting them both food, glancing up as he brought two plates over to the couch to catch her looking. The compliment turned his cheeks a little pink, but he smiled as he sat down beside her, passing her a plate of food, along with cutlery and a napkin before settling his own plate on his lap.

"Once or twice." he quipped, unsure as ever how to handle it when she just--said stuff like that. It made him feel hot and shaky inside, in a really nice way, he just had no idea what to do with it. Pretty words he'd heard before, from women he paid--he was known, feared, admired for his skill and his cruelty, for his fire and his fury.

Knowing that someone saw him as something beautiful, just to look at...it was good in a way he couldn't explain.

"Then you stand me next to an angel like you? And I'm definitely chopped liver." he went on. "Not talkin' myself down, that's just facts."

At the return compliment, Regina blinked once, the lazy flutter of her lashes over her eyes too slow to be anything but deliberate. She smiled, too, in pleasure at being appreciated, even if he wasn't looking right now, just reciting what he saw as facts. On some level, that was even more flattering, that he didn't have to be looking to know he felt that way.

Then again, she did like when he looked at her and was overcome, too. It might make her a terrible feminist (not that anyone had ever actually thought of her as a feminist other than the mere fact of her holding masculine-style authority), but she liked to be beautiful for her mate. And she enjoyed dressing for his attention. Something she looked forward to doing more of in time to come.

"Witches like chopped organ meats," she replied mildly, rolling her tongue behind her teeth as she balanced her plate. "Now, where were we? Something you want, yes? Since we're eating, things you like--in bed, out of bed, about me, anything that's about us is fair game."

When she brought up the question then, Neil took a moment to take a bite of his sandwich, thinking it over as he chewed and swallowed, tongue snaking out to lick a glob of dressing off the pad of his thumb.

"Well," he began, nodding his head towards the floor at her feet, where he'd been kneeling before, "that's apparently a thing. A big one--but I think tonight we need somethin' a little lighter." He paused, sucking silently on his teeth for a moment as he stared at his plate, picking at a stray piece of sauerkraut and popping it into his mouth before he smirked teasingly.

"I dunno if you noticed, but my hair's kind of a thing." he joked--since she'd put him to sleep more than a couple times by messing with it in bed, and always somehow ended up with her hands in his hair or braiding it for him when he was tense or angry. "But I've kinda figured out that when you pull it...'specially when you're leaving marks..."

He trailed off, his mind wandering for a minute to the last time she'd grabbed a handful, yanked his head back, set her teeth against his neck or jaw or trapezius...

Swallowing thickly, he nodded with a deep, steadying breath and heat in his eyes.

"Love it when you leave marks, too. I just plain love it when you're possessive and shit. Makes me feel...I dunno. It's hard to describe, but it's good."

"Me being possessive isn't a stretch."

And why was that? She hadn't been with Daniel, but there'd been no need. Nor with Mal, but that would have been suicidal. If Mal had thought Regina was trying to tie her down in anyway, she'd have turned into a dragon and eaten her.

She laughed quietly when she glanced down at the plateful of pancakes and ice cream. At least they'd work the calories off. No doubt about that. So she dug in, and floated the carafe of water over to pour more into her glass while she returned her attention to Neil's desires.

"I never have been." She certainly wouldn't have marked Graham. It supposed he might ever have gotten far enough from her for the marks to matter, if it had even occurred to her.

"Not even with Robin." A small frown flickered over her mouth as she glanced aside to him, and she felt a thick twist of grief in her belly. She almost pushed her food away, but chose a cooling, soothing sip of water instead and said, "Maybe that's why," as calmly as she could.

"It's my way of putting the universe on notice that it can't take you away." And maybe it was why she'd needed him to fuck her so hard she could barely stand; as long as she felt him on her and saw herself on him, they belonged to each other and nothing could take him away.

Her eyes burned bright and definitely possessive when she fixed her gaze on him again. "Sorry, didn't mean to downshift on you. I just..." She shrugged tightly. Understanding why she felt the things she did was an important part of not lashing out at other people because of them.

"You didn't. It's okay." he assured her, shifting to sit facing her and drawing one leg up on the couch, tucked so his knee could be pressing against her leg. One day, he would fully explain to her the nature of twice mated dragons--it wasn't common, but it was done, and normal enough that it wasn't troubling. One day--one day he'd make her understand.

For now, he tried to lighten the mood by reaching up to touch one of bites, still lingering on his shoulder as he smiled.

"I wish I could say I had a noble reason like that--I just like knowin' you'll feel 'em later and think about every filthy thing I did to you." he replied with a lascivious wag of his eyebrows before taking another healthy bite of his sandwich.

"Mm," she replied, the sound very slightly suggestive, as she recovered her grace and good humor.

It didn't seem especially noble to cover him in bite- and claw-marks to make sure the universe and any man or woman who happened to see him unclothed knew beyond a doubt he belonged to someone, but she supposed there might be something noble about claiming him from the universe the way she'd said.

"But, love--" Her eyes gleamed now with renewed mischief and unstinting affection, and she reached across to touch just the inside of his knee and then the wrist that rested atop it. "We were discussing how much you like bearing the marks of my claim on you."

He'd have made a smart remark--but she was touching his wrist again, and his heart skipped a beat while his throat closed for a moment and his mouth went bone dry, wanting to feel her fingers close around it again.

"...yep." he finally admitted after two unsuccessful attempts at clearing his throat so he could speak. "I sure as hell do--and also that. I have no idea why, it's brand fucking knew, but...that. Apparently."

"This?" Her eyebrow swept upward over a tiny little smirk, as she closed her fingers around his wrist. Because it helped distract her from the other train of thought, she caressed the delicate skin beneath her thumb, too. "Me holding your wrist?"

With her other hand, she took an indelicately large bite of her pancakes and plenty of whipped cream, that she then--naturally--had to clear from her mouth with the sweep of her tongue.

"You know, you could easily pull out of my grip." Very easily. Her expression turned even more wicked then. "But you don't want to. Do you?"

Neil's breath rushed out of his lungs in a ragged sigh as her hand curled around his wrist, and he had to set his sandwich back down so he didn't drop it when everything in him went hot and liquid. Swallowing thickly, he couldn't stop his eyes from sliding shut for a moment, letting the warmth of her fingers sink into his skin.

When she spoke, he made himself open his eyes again--and it didn't help, because that fucking look on her face combined with those slim fingers locked around his wrist threatened to start shutting his brain off again, one glorious switch at a time.

"No." he croaked with a tiny shake of his head. "No, I don't."

"Damn." Regina wasn't one for swearing, usually, but sometimes no other words would do. Like the damn for the way her fingers around her wrist dropped him straight into his lizard-brain, not to mention made him look a lot more edible than her pancakes.

After lifting her food off her lap, she shifted onto her knees and leaned in until she could feel each heated, taut breath brush over her mouth like it was her own. No, not like. His breath was hers. Every single breath, every single beat of his heart, every thought, all of him, hers.

Who was she kidding with this dinner first story she was trying to tell?

"Bed, Neil. Now." Or floor, or couch if he could move his food fast enough, she didn't care. "I'm suddenly feeling... possessive."

Neil's hand was shaking as he managed to set his plate aside, the world narrowing again to Regina's breath puffing against his face, the sound of her voice--that single word making him want with her fingers still wrapped around his wrist, to be possessed, to be claimed, to be owned, more than she already did...

She was so close all he had to do was lean forward and tip his head, and his mouth was on hers, hard and hungry and desperate as his free hand tangled in her hair to keep her close. It felt like he could breathe again while he was kissing her, there wasn't enough air if he couldn't...

Pressing her back onto the couch, Neil covered her body with his with a low moan, hips already rocking against her as he settled his body between her legs.

She let him have her, let him ride out the first wave of that huge swell of wanting, pushing her back and rutting against her with that same animal heat that took them both in the shower. But she never let go of his wrist, and the hand that found his hair yanked hard with a well-timed push of her foot and a bit of magic to roll him over and another bit of magic to cushion their drop to the floor.

Then she straddled him, fierce and triumphant, like a she-dragon surveying her prize. Her hips did roll against his, but only once, hard and demanding before she held herself off him again. If he imagined for a heartbeat it was easy for her, he had only to look at the full-black lust in her eyes or the tips of her breasts beaded clearly visible through her blouse. That, if he couldn't feel the ravenous heat between her thighs.

Voice thick and velvety, she murmured his name and flipped the wrist she held down to the floor by his head. Then she tilted her head until it hit the limit of movement from his hand in it and glanced pointedly to the other side of his head--where she very clearly wanted him to put his hand. They might need something a little 'lighter' than him kneeling for her, but she wanted to 'welcome him home' properly, and apparently properly had teeth.

Whatever rational thought he'd been capable of vanished the moment her hand slid into his hair, and reason only flew further away when she pushed him to the floor and straddled him with a roll of her hips that had him growling at the way she looked the way she felt--he thought he'd known hunger before, but in that moment he felt like he would die if he didn't...

Neil.

She said his name and pushed his wrist down--and impossibly, everything else in his head shut completely down as the air left his lungs again.

He couldn't have made himself look away from her eyes if his life depended on it, his own going wide and pitch black with raw need, tongue snaking out to lick lips gone dry as every breath came heavy into his lungs. It felt less intense, but still a lot like kneeling again, no thought needed for his fingers to loosen in her hair, his arm to drop, leaving his hands resting at either side of his head.

And he knew he wasn't going to move them for anything--not as long as there was a chance she'd say his name like that again and keep looking at him like her gaze had the strength her hands didn't to physically pin him to the spot.

"Good boy," she murmured at him thickly, body starving suddenly to have him a dozen different ways and heart thudding powerfully against her ribs, so powerfully she thought it might explode or suddenly stop.

A quick flicker of magic stripped him bare, while her gaze stayed locked to his and then she bent close so he could feel her breath over his mouth again. "Don't move. If you move, I'll stop and go eat dinner."

Somehow she knew she would, too, even if the ache in her cunt would make her miserable while she did it. She was serious about him being still and being hers, and she punctuated the point by moving off him. She didn't go anywhere, just to his side, but sat there, not touching him, except the very tips of her fingers which stroked delicately over the stretch of skin between his hipbone and his abdomen where she would shortly suck a deep purple bruise.

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