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Neil was briefly taken aback as she hooked her legs over his arms, but it was only a second before he was grinning down at her again, amazed and suddenly, impossibly more turned on than he had been a moment before. Only Regina...

"Something tells me you're gonna keep me on my toes a lot." He chuckled, leaning in to kiss her again as he snapped his hips again, driving himself deep into her body, then again, and again--sharp, deep, deliberate thrusts that nearly stole his breath every time she wrapped around him again when he rocked into her.

And he knew he wasn't going to last like that--so he slowed again, alternating between those deep thrusts and easy, careful rolls of his hips to hold off his own orgasm as long as he could, just to make it last, just because she didn't want it to end too soon...and he wanted to give her that, at any cost.

He kept going until he couldn't, until he was driving himself into her body just because he couldn't stop, because he was falling apart and falling into her, and the world had narrowed to her mouth and her cunt and the sound she made filling his ears and his head.

"Regina...can't hold on anymore...tell me what you want...want you to come with me, please..."

"Back...knees...rarely toes," she managed between the first snap of his hips and then second, but her lashes were fluttering, head tipped back, hands gripping the sheets (and falling in his finger holes) already.

She liked sexual to be a mutual affair but sometimes, just sometimes, she wanted to be fucked, and it was... relief seemed like the wrong word, considering the ache deep in cunt, and the mewing gasps that came with every thrusts, but it was a relief to find him willing to deliver and not worry that she was too fragile to take it.

When he slowed again, she whimpered, then flat out whined, twisting the sheets in her grip and breasts heaving with each breath she stole from the charged, heated air around them, and she honestly didn't know whether she wanted more of the slow or more of the hard. She was lost in the physicality of it, the friction of his full length pressing through clenching muscles, the heavy drag and slap of his sac against her ass and sometimes hitting just so to add an extra thrill to the pleasure of it, the way he pressed down between her thighs to ravish her mouth when he slowed...

Her name pierced the heated fog and brought her back to the moment. She freed a hand from the sheets to stroke his sweat-damp hair and smiled, sex-glazed, at the question. "Let my legs down," she told him, and as soon as he did, she would wind one around his hips and hook her other foot around his calf. "...finish hard."

She'd come, she wouldn't be able to stop it.

Neil shifted to let her legs down, and when she locked them back around him, letting her pull him deeper with each thrust, he gave her exactly what she asked for. Kissing her hard, deep and hungry and full of teeth as he nipped at her lower lip, he drove himself into her, hard and fast. Letting her legs pull him in harder, and gripping her hip to pull her closer still every time he drove into her body.

Every sound she made wound that coil of heat low in his body tighter, every clench of her walls around his cock pulled him deeper into beautiful madness, those telltale flutters of muscle contracting to betray how close she was to tumbling over the edge with him as his rhythm grew faster, erratic--until his breath caught, his body tensed, and with a few more thrust he came with a growl that might have been her name, muted by her shoulder as he bit it sharply as his release crashed over him.

As soon as he came down over her, she buried one hand in his hair and the other curled painfully tight into the meat of his back. She couldn't relax it enough to scrape or scratch or even move. Like her toes, it held all the tension of not-coming-yet, kept her pulled together until one deep, hard thrust by another, he drove her past that wound-tight tension to a breaking point.

Her cries went quiet, her cunt pulsed once, twice, in warning, and then her head tipped back, ribcage arched into him, and her fingers in his hair pulled tighter still but did nothing to ground her. She flew, soared, silent until his teeth caught in her shoulder--and then she shattered and screamed.

Her orgasm prolonged his own, drove it higher with the sound of her scream, the feel of her body tightening around him--the sting of her fingers pulling his hair, nails in his back sunk so deep he could feel the fire rising to answer the perceived threat, barely had sense enough to pull it back so the half moon gouges wouldn't heal.

He didn't want them to. He wanted to feel the sting every time he pulled on a shirt, remember the feel of this every time fabric shifted or stretched to pull over skin and make them burn with a ghost of the way he burned in the moment.

It was intense, it was glorious--it felt like falling, not off a cliff but straight into her. Nothing else existed but the burn and tension of her release as she clung to him, the taste of skin and the almost-promise of blood as teeth bruised flesh, the press of her body as she arched against him and they both held on, frozen by that perfect moment where they both fell apart, and he couldn't tell where he ended and she began.

When his orgasm finally began to fade, when he could pick up the edges of himself, untangle them from hers, in a moment where he still felt half-mad from pleasure, Neil wondered if Regina had the power to steal a man's heart without ripping it from his chest, because the way he felt in the moment was dangerously close to precisely that.

The orgasm shredded her, ripped the tension from her muscles, ripped the propriety and polish and, for the moment, even the purpose from her. Any anxieties the day had left her with also fled when Neil put the hammer down and shattered her beneath it.

She floated above herself--at the same time she felt deliciously, deliriously grounded by his weight pinning and holding her down.

"Good," she murmured, hand smoothing through the sweat slick along his spine. There had been another word, but it didn't make it out because she couldn't catch her breath; she was too busy catching every last sensation and the desperately sweet unnamed emotions that went with them.

"Good god." Yes. Those words. There. She flung one arm out, free, away from him to encourage her chest to rise, and compensated by holding tighter with the other, arm winding low around his hips to keep him close.

"Neil." Sweet, merciful fuck. What was he doing to her?

If he wasn't already wrecked by the aftermath of his own orgasm, the sound of his name on her lips like that would have driven him crazy all over again. As it was, he was laughing breathlessly with his face pressed against the curve of her neck, one hand braced on the bed to let himself leverage his weight so he wasn't crushing her, giving her more room to catch her breath.

"That's...my name." he panted, lifting his head and reaching up with his free hand to rake his hair out of his face so he could grin down at her, features open and fond and more than a little blissed out. "Don't...wear it out. Not that...you could...fuck, love the way you say it."

Bending his head, he stole a hungry, eager kiss, before breaking away to make sure they could both get back to catching their breath.

"You are fucking amazing." he murmured, resting his forehead against hers before he was laughing again. "And amazing at fucking."

That sweet, fond smile broke something in her. What she had no idea and couldn't think to find out and as long as it wasn't essential to functioning in this moment, she couldn't possibly have cared less. She laughed along with him, only stopped briefly for the kiss, and to murmur a pleased and somewhat arrogant agreement to his pronouncement. "Yes. I am."

What she didn't say was that she ought to be, as she'd had plenty of practice. It was hardly relevant, since she couldn't remember a sexual encounter that had left her feeling this happy and good.

Instead, she planted a hand firmly against his pectoral muscle and pushed him over to his side. Because there was no point in him straining his muscles like that when she would probably find use for them again later.

And because she could get up close and personal with their legs tangled together and hand free to memorize the gorgeous muscle definition in his chest and shoulder, steal kisses, and eventually remind him that they'd convened at the pub to talk. "So, when you said fifty percent of the cuddling was clothing optional, you meant the other fifty was definitely naked, didn't you?"

Neil needed little more than a nudge to roll on his side, and didn't trust the tangle of limbs to keep her close: one arm snaked around her waist to pull her flush against him and keep her there, tucking the other under his head so he could lay comfortably, watching her face with that same ridiculous smile.

"Probably." he snickered with a sigh, humming with pleasure as her fingers mapped the lines of his chest and shoulder. "Don't expect me to remember what I said yet--hell, don't expect me to remember my own damn name for at least a couple days, I need to recuperate brain cells...nope, got a couple left: I definitely meant naked. Makin' the naked part mandatory 'till further notice. Dress at your own peril, modesty is punishable by...fuck if I know."

"You're cute when you're leaking stupid up this close," she murmured at him teasingly, then and chased down his mouth for another greedy-sweet kiss.

This was going to be a problem, she could tell. The way she wanted to stay close to him, to be touching, skin against skin, mouths in easy striking distance, it said things like it's been entirely too long and you feel entirely too much.

The problem with all of that was that she didn't care. She didn't care one bit.

"But I have to admit, I don't remember exactly what we still needed to talk about. Something about children and rules, but adult games are more interesting."

"Charlie, boys, and me lockin' her in a tower 'till she's forty." Neil replied without missing a beat--but only because there was no real way he could shut it off. Situational awareness kept him alive, there was never an occasion where he could let his guard down long enough to forget much of anything: faces, conversations, sounds--it could all mean the difference between life and death, meaning he could never fully lose himself in any one thing.

"But I agree: grown up time beats the hell outta plotting her abduction." he went on with a lopsided smile, reaching out to skim his fingers along her neck, and down over his shoulder to trace the bite mark he'd left there, gentle and lazy. Seeing it, touching it, made him want her all over again--but his body still had to do some catching up.

"Ember's Balls--you are so goddamn beautiful, Regina." he sighed, expression smoothing out into one of sated contentment and awe as his fingers continued to dance over the marks he'd left on her. "I can't even handle it, I swear to God..."

"She's what, fifteen, sixteen?" Regina wasn't ignoring him. How could she ignore those lazy, slow caresses, especially over the lightly bruised bite on her shoulder, that all spoke so possessively he might as well be signing his name to her skin? They'd just been talking about something important enough to make it worth talking while cuddling.

She did refrain from fondling him, deliberately brushing against the bite mark she'd left on his inner thigh, but only because it felt awkward, uncomfortable, to mix that much intimacy with discussion of a child.

"The more you tell her what not to do, the more she's going to fight you on it. The trick is to get her to talk to you about things, so you know when she really needs your help," she told him, and then let herself nuzzle against his hand and appreciate his touch.

"Most men pay their compliments before they get laid, you know," she murmured when she leaned in to kiss the side of his neck, just beneath his ear. "But you aren't most men. You're nothing like them. And when you tell me I'm beautiful, I feel beautiful. Thank you, Neil."

It was solid advice--not all that different from infiltration, planning a kill through some servant or low ranking royal in need of friendship. That was flat out manipulation, but with a softer touch, like Regina was talking about--not pushing her towards an action, just coaxing her into talking. About nothing in particular, the more she talked the more he would know, and if he heard something in that he had to do something about...

It was solid advice--advice he knew how to implement. The relief that came with it, along with Regina's praise and the way she crowded in for a kiss made him smile.

"I'm tellin' you shit you already know, Beautiful." he chuckled, turning into the press of her lips to kiss her neck in return with a hum of contentment. "But you're welcome--and thank you. For helpin' me figure out how not to fuck up an awesome kid. Great sex is one thing, but that..."

It feels like you really care. It makes me want to crawl inside your head as well as your heart and your body. You're giving me more than just peace of mind, you're helping me find the first family I've ever had, and I think I could love you for that.

Instead of saying that out loud, he just drew back to look into her eyes, reaching up to caress her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"...just proves that you're awesome."

"There's a difference between knowing I'm beautiful and hearing it from my lover, especially when he doesn't need to pay me compliments," she replied and let her own too-soft emotions carry her fingers into his hair to pet him the way she already knew he loved.

"It makes me want to help, with Charlie, and with anything else I can." Because you see me. You look at me when you don't have to and you see the woman and not the queen. And you want me to know you do, instead of making me work for it.

"So I'll accept awesome, even if I think my son is the only person I know who knows what it really means."

He had an answer for her--but her fingers went to his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut with a deep breath and a gravelly sigh of pleasure as he tipped his head into the gentle touch like an attention-starved cat. Every muscle that was already relaxed and soft in the glowing aftermath of great sex went completely liquid under her touch, left him defenseless against simple, meaningless words that were everything to him.

It makes me want to help.

It brought to mind everything he'd ever wanted and hoped for when he'd been given into military service, the early camaraderie of his brothers in arms--everything he made himself forget he loved and ached for when he rose through the ranks and got plucked from the army again to serve at the Night Dragon's left hand.

It compelled him to pry his eyes open from under the lazy pleasure of Regina's fingers in his hair so he could look into her face with a drowsy smile.

"Funny story? 'Round the time the Night Dragon took me from my world, there was this weird--fad, you might call it?--anyone that still said 'awesome' instead of 'cool' was a nerd and not worth a good goddamn. So when I'm talkin'? Using it as slang is always a conscious choice. When I'm just talkin', I use the real word."

He drew his fingertips along the line of her jaw, shifted to trace the bow of her upper lip with his index finger.

"The one that means 'breathtaking.'"

Sometimes, she unfairly envied him the way his youth still had meaning for him, especially unfairly knowing how badly it had hurt him and how much damage it had left behind. And yet somehow he managed to remember pieces of it in ways that didn't get corrupted by all of that, and it was so damned cute when he did it.

Cute, and self-confident, and strangely sexy, or maybe she just had a godawful crush on him. Or both.

Both.

Still, it wasn't his reminiscence and dubious babble that stole her heart this time. It was the soft touch of his fingertips as they traced the shape of her lips, and that incredible honeyed warmth in his eyes when he said 'breathtaking'. Maybe because 'breathtaking' wasn't about how she looked as much as how she affected him, she liked hearing it even more.

"I'll take your breath any time you let me, Neil Blair," she murmured, and didn't let herself think about what she was saying.

She had no clue what she was saying. He had to forcibly remind himself of that fact as he looked into her face right then, his heart so full of hope it felt pinched where it sat in his chest.

He wanted to give it to her, in that moment. For a split second he wanted to lay himself open, breath and body, and give her everything.

Even the spark of the Ember, the life giving force that was in the breath of every thinking creature.

Instead of doing or saying something riduculous, Neil shifted forward for a kiss, one that lingered until breathing became a concern.

“It’s yours, Regina Mills.” He assures her with a strangely serene smile. “Any time you want it.”

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