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"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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