Obligation be damned, Regina thought in nearly the same moment. She'd given as much of herself and this dress to her realm as she intended to, at least for a good long while. She was on the brink of teleporting them to their suites (hers technically, but if anyone in this realm didn't know she was besotted with him and carrying on in extremely passionate fashion, they were perhaps too stupid to live) when her back collided with the wall and Neil was making his own intentions oh so very deliciously clear.
A night of fine wines on her tongue was nothing for making her head spin the way Neil could with his kisses, and since he seemed to have the situation at least temporarily under control, she let her head fall back against what was probably a shelf of books (she didn't care, couldn't care, Neil was in front of her, absolutely puissant). The woman she'd been the last time she'd occupied this castle had shown her throat to no one, and in one gesture, she now showed, offered, more or less begged him to take it and her with it.
"No, maybe, I don't want to think about it." Her fingers combed feverishly through his hair, her body's impatience manifesting in half-a-dozen telltale movements. "Have me." Love me. She wanted him so so badly and the longer they stood like this, the more her need for him deepened, a foundational, physical, animal truth in stark contrast with the pretty, decorous speakings of the night. "Neil."
It wasn't often that he had Regina in this kind of position--so desperate she'd give give herself to him like this, be so completely vulnerable in trusting him with what she wanted, needed--where she'd say his name like that, a raw prayer torn from her lips.
The power of it was a drug, a dangerous one at that with its potency--fortunately, the weight of it was humbling enough to keep his feet on the ground even when he felt like he was flying.
With another kiss, he silently promised her that she wouldn't have to think again until she was ready. He let the thrill of her hands in his hair sink into him, make his blood burn as he broke the kiss and sank to his knees, watching her watch him. He let that sink into her, let it make her blood burn along with his as she anticipated what was about to happen.
Fisting two hands in the silky fall of her skirt, he held her gaze as he pulled with a sudden, rough motion, splitting it with a muted crack of sound as it tore in two, giving him easy access to run his hands up her bare legs from knee to hip and back again.
"Thank you, love," she gave him in a rough whisper. As rare as it was for her to be so completely vulnerable, it was even rarer for her to be so willing, to let go of control with a heady sigh rather than a heated struggle.
But her need had grown throughout the night, a product of unexpected separation, but also of being so exposed. So many eyes on her, so many expectations, unwanted lust from unfamiliar quarters, and dozens of those who hadn't seen her since before she'd changed waiting to see the Witch emerge from behind the presumed facade of this new, poised, good queen.
Neil believed in her, he made her, sometimes by unmaking her first. What he gave her now was a safe place to fall, and she seized on it, tipping her head down to watch him kneel, know that he belonged to her, and that right now and for as long as she wanted to, she belonged to him and only to him.
That thought marshaled the last of her reserves so that she could cradle his jaw, smile down into his beloved face, and graze his cheekbone with her thumb in benediction and in gratitude, even while she shivered, whispered his name again, and fell into his hands and into his heart.
That gentle touch was the ultimate power--her trust, her heart, a mutual ownership of each other's best and worst that made it hard to remember sometimes where she ended and he began.
Turning his head, he kissed her palm, then pushed her torn skirt aside so he could lay another kiss against her knee--the last gentle touch before he kissed and nipped up to her inner thigh, sharp catches of his teeth that left angry red marks as they went, each one soothed by a hot sweep of his tongue. He took his time, running his hands up her legs and over her bare hips--either she wasn't wearing panties or she wasn't wearing panties anymore, and both scenarios had him humming in pleasure as he let his beard scrape over delicate skin.
He took his time touching, teasing, loving the way she wound impossibly tighter for him. He wanted to taste her as badly as she wanted him to, and he had no intention of tormenting her, but he wanted to wipe the evening out, make her forget every other set of eyes and every expectation that was placed upon her in this realm.
Neil wanted to wipe everything away with the most intense pleasure he could give her, wanted to leave no room in her mind, her heart, or her soul for anything that wasn't his name, and possibly the word please.
It had taken time for her to be comfortable with this, with him on his knees to service her, because it was a thing Graham had done while she held his heart and he had no choice. And when he'd shown her this was his choice, that she was his desire, then it had taken time for her to grow comfortable with the way he served--the control he exercised, the commanding way that he took her to the edge of her pleasure and decided when and how she would have it.
But she had grown comfortable with it, and tonight his power was exactly what she needed. His control, his mastery, his sharp, demanding bites and his fingertips laying claim to her, possessing every inch of her. Sometimes she fought, struggled to maintain her own power until he forced her to give it up to him, but tonight she'd yielded before he ever got his hands or mouth on her, banishing her panties by spell as soon as she thought to slip away.
As her hands unbound his hair and slid into it, her thighs quivered and she sighed his name again, this time in pure devotion. "I've needed you, Neil."
Neil was never going to get over that sound Regina made, and no one else--not one of the women he'd ever paid for could sigh like that, weave his name into breath and need and adoration and destroy him with its tapestry. Were Regina Mills ever his enemy, his life would be hers should she ever use that one perfect utterance against him, and he'd die a happy man.
But she'd never be on that other side--she was his, forever his, and those three words were as intoxicating as any I love you.
I've needed you.
Needed like air, wrapped around that sigh, so deep in her marrow that she gave herself to him with no resistance...perfect conquest through perfect surrender.
Still, it wasn't enough. It was never enough, not when she gave him everything, not when she laid herself open and let him take what he wanted--it would never be enough, and he was going to spend the rest of his life chasing it down, every last piece of her until there was nothing left...and then he would still need more.
So he lifted his head, looked up into her eyes--demanded that little bit more, chased another tiny piece of her to call his own, even for a moment.
"Regina...thought a sorceress would know better." he chided huskily, sliding one hand up her leg, brushing over to tease a finger along her slit. "You forgot the magic word."
Already very nearly breathless from his attention, Regina huffed a desperate laugh. It was adorable that he thought she could remember anything beyond her own name, his name, and please--which, now that it had come to the fore was, of course, the word that he wanted.
She had no qualms about giving it to him, about breaking down and begging for him to touch her, but first... first, she lifted one quivering leg and laid it over his shoulder so that he couldn't think without the scent of her arousal and the heat of it bathing his face.
And then because she thought of a word that was more satisfying, she added it to her magic words. "I'm yours, Neil. Please."
That little thread of rebellion, pushing back when he tried to take--it made him smile, broad and bright and borderline feral as he looked up at her along the line of her body with need pressing against the inside of his ribcage, squeezing air from his lungs and damn near stopping his heart.
"Damn right you are."
Her actions had the desired affect, his voice little more than an animal snarl as he spoke before he pressed close and licked a slow, hot stripe along her slit. He took his time, parting her folds with his fingers so he could tease and taste, circle her clit with the tip of his tongue. He alternated teasing, too soft brushes of lips and tongue between those flat, firm strokes or just pushing his tongue inside of her, gratified whenever he tore another sharp sound from her throat or pulled a desperate surge out of her body as she tried to get more of what she needed.
She inhaled deeply at slow, hot lick, but knew better than to try to relax into it. That first swipe of his tongue always told her what she'd gotten herself into, and tonight it told her to find something to hold onto, because her mate, her knight, her everything was presently playing the role of master of her fate.
And oh she fucking loved the way he opened her, slow, letting her savor that moment of her labia separating which was as pleasurable in its way as penetration. It didn't matter that they weren't in their bedroom, he meant to have her completely and from the first time he pressed his tongue inside her and her knees bent, all but giving out beneath her as she chased it on his retreat, she was lost.
Her hips rolled up and down and she rode his lips and tongue without a single thought for how wanton she looked and sounded with one hand in his hair and the other reaching over her head for the edge of a book shelf to grip, her thighs splaying wider and wider to offer herself to him, and her breath alternating between sharp inhalations when his tongue hit her clit and high-pitched cries when ever it fucked into her. She had no thoughts at all except, the words she whined and chanted at at him:
Neil. Yes. Fuck. Please. Neil. Oh god. Please. Fuck. Neil.
She was beauty personified in the moments she lost complete control for him, fire and flesh made magic when she cursed and begged and pleaded for her release, spoke his name like a prayer that would save her from eternal damnation. In those moments, he owned her completely: her thoughts, her body, her will as well as her heart, and it was a long held fantasy of being able to one day take her to that place and hold her there. Deny her pleasure, leave her hovering until the whimpers and pleas became sobs and screams.
And it would never happen, because Neil simply couldn't fucking resist her in those moments: thighs spread, cunt slick, mind gone--all that strength and poise and grace given over to him simply because he loved her.
Drunk on her pleasure, the power of worlds in his hands on his knees before his queen...he didn't have the strength to hold her there, didn't have the restraint to remain unmoved by the whimpers of his name on her lips. He could only take her higher, give up his teasing and press his tongue deep inside of her, brush a thumb over her clit and fuck her with his mouth until those sounds turned desperate--then press his thumb a little harder, curl his tongue inside her, and push her over that precipice and into sweet oblivion.
If he ever expressed the fantasy to her, she might grant it to him. Grant him the permission to deny her, at least until she hit some not-predetermined point at which she couldn't take it and told him as much via segnale, or what were called safe words in the Land without Magic. She might even allow it with a segnale only for an emergency, because she would be curious to see how far he would push, how long he would make her wait, what it would feel like to be reduced to nothing but her need.
But he hadn't expressed the desire and this night wouldn't be the night for it anyhow. They might be sufficiently alone that the moans that dripped from her lips like the honey that dripped from her cunt belonged to Neil alone, but the threat of being found did still exist and fed the fire of pleasure with taboo, and she would not, could not, ever, allow anyone but Neil to see her completely given over to her need and mindless with sexual agony.
Still she had already slipped over from moans to sobbing breaths, her breasts shimmying and swaying against the fabric of her dress, taunting her with nowhere near enough contact to push her over. Everything, all of her, was Neil's, and if she thought she might die of waiting if he didn't let her come soon. Which was right about the moment that his tongue pushed so deep that his sideways turned mouth kissed her labia like her mouth, and his thumb drove her on.
Her grip on the bookshelf slipped, and she grasped frantically for another. Caught a book by the spine and tossed it accidentally to the floor. The noise went almost unheard amongst the wet sounds of her pleasure and her sobbing pleas, and yet another fell before she found her grip again. By then, her orgasm was on her, and she screamed for him like a hunting hawk once before she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle herself as she shuddered and shook and sought nothing but the strength of his arms to hold her up.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-09-08 12:30 pm (UTC)A night of fine wines on her tongue was nothing for making her head spin the way Neil could with his kisses, and since he seemed to have the situation at least temporarily under control, she let her head fall back against what was probably a shelf of books (she didn't care, couldn't care, Neil was in front of her, absolutely puissant). The woman she'd been the last time she'd occupied this castle had shown her throat to no one, and in one gesture, she now showed, offered, more or less begged him to take it and her with it.
"No, maybe, I don't want to think about it." Her fingers combed feverishly through his hair, her body's impatience manifesting in half-a-dozen telltale movements. "Have me." Love me. She wanted him so so badly and the longer they stood like this, the more her need for him deepened, a foundational, physical, animal truth in stark contrast with the pretty, decorous speakings of the night. "Neil."
no subject
Date: 2018-09-09 05:18 am (UTC)The power of it was a drug, a dangerous one at that with its potency--fortunately, the weight of it was humbling enough to keep his feet on the ground even when he felt like he was flying.
With another kiss, he silently promised her that she wouldn't have to think again until she was ready. He let the thrill of her hands in his hair sink into him, make his blood burn as he broke the kiss and sank to his knees, watching her watch him. He let that sink into her, let it make her blood burn along with his as she anticipated what was about to happen.
Fisting two hands in the silky fall of her skirt, he held her gaze as he pulled with a sudden, rough motion, splitting it with a muted crack of sound as it tore in two, giving him easy access to run his hands up her bare legs from knee to hip and back again.
no subject
Date: 2018-09-09 07:37 am (UTC)But her need had grown throughout the night, a product of unexpected separation, but also of being so exposed. So many eyes on her, so many expectations, unwanted lust from unfamiliar quarters, and dozens of those who hadn't seen her since before she'd changed waiting to see the Witch emerge from behind the presumed facade of this new, poised, good queen.
Neil believed in her, he made her, sometimes by unmaking her first. What he gave her now was a safe place to fall, and she seized on it, tipping her head down to watch him kneel, know that he belonged to her, and that right now and for as long as she wanted to, she belonged to him and only to him.
That thought marshaled the last of her reserves so that she could cradle his jaw, smile down into his beloved face, and graze his cheekbone with her thumb in benediction and in gratitude, even while she shivered, whispered his name again, and fell into his hands and into his heart.
no subject
Date: 2018-09-12 05:28 am (UTC)Turning his head, he kissed her palm, then pushed her torn skirt aside so he could lay another kiss against her knee--the last gentle touch before he kissed and nipped up to her inner thigh, sharp catches of his teeth that left angry red marks as they went, each one soothed by a hot sweep of his tongue. He took his time, running his hands up her legs and over her bare hips--either she wasn't wearing panties or she wasn't wearing panties anymore, and both scenarios had him humming in pleasure as he let his beard scrape over delicate skin.
He took his time touching, teasing, loving the way she wound impossibly tighter for him. He wanted to taste her as badly as she wanted him to, and he had no intention of tormenting her, but he wanted to wipe the evening out, make her forget every other set of eyes and every expectation that was placed upon her in this realm.
Neil wanted to wipe everything away with the most intense pleasure he could give her, wanted to leave no room in her mind, her heart, or her soul for anything that wasn't his name, and possibly the word please.
no subject
Date: 2018-09-14 04:57 am (UTC)But she had grown comfortable with it, and tonight his power was exactly what she needed. His control, his mastery, his sharp, demanding bites and his fingertips laying claim to her, possessing every inch of her. Sometimes she fought, struggled to maintain her own power until he forced her to give it up to him, but tonight she'd yielded before he ever got his hands or mouth on her, banishing her panties by spell as soon as she thought to slip away.
As her hands unbound his hair and slid into it, her thighs quivered and she sighed his name again, this time in pure devotion. "I've needed you, Neil."
no subject
Date: 2018-09-18 11:03 pm (UTC)But she'd never be on that other side--she was his, forever his, and those three words were as intoxicating as any I love you.
I've needed you.
Needed like air, wrapped around that sigh, so deep in her marrow that she gave herself to him with no resistance...perfect conquest through perfect surrender.
Still, it wasn't enough. It was never enough, not when she gave him everything, not when she laid herself open and let him take what he wanted--it would never be enough, and he was going to spend the rest of his life chasing it down, every last piece of her until there was nothing left...and then he would still need more.
So he lifted his head, looked up into her eyes--demanded that little bit more, chased another tiny piece of her to call his own, even for a moment.
"Regina...thought a sorceress would know better." he chided huskily, sliding one hand up her leg, brushing over to tease a finger along her slit. "You forgot the magic word."
no subject
Date: 2018-09-20 02:15 am (UTC)She had no qualms about giving it to him, about breaking down and begging for him to touch her, but first... first, she lifted one quivering leg and laid it over his shoulder so that he couldn't think without the scent of her arousal and the heat of it bathing his face.
And then because she thought of a word that was more satisfying, she added it to her magic words. "I'm yours, Neil. Please."
no subject
Date: 2018-10-05 08:25 pm (UTC)"Damn right you are."
Her actions had the desired affect, his voice little more than an animal snarl as he spoke before he pressed close and licked a slow, hot stripe along her slit. He took his time, parting her folds with his fingers so he could tease and taste, circle her clit with the tip of his tongue. He alternated teasing, too soft brushes of lips and tongue between those flat, firm strokes or just pushing his tongue inside of her, gratified whenever he tore another sharp sound from her throat or pulled a desperate surge out of her body as she tried to get more of what she needed.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-06 12:20 am (UTC)And oh she fucking loved the way he opened her, slow, letting her savor that moment of her labia separating which was as pleasurable in its way as penetration. It didn't matter that they weren't in their bedroom, he meant to have her completely and from the first time he pressed his tongue inside her and her knees bent, all but giving out beneath her as she chased it on his retreat, she was lost.
Her hips rolled up and down and she rode his lips and tongue without a single thought for how wanton she looked and sounded with one hand in his hair and the other reaching over her head for the edge of a book shelf to grip, her thighs splaying wider and wider to offer herself to him, and her breath alternating between sharp inhalations when his tongue hit her clit and high-pitched cries when ever it fucked into her. She had no thoughts at all except, the words she whined and chanted at at him:
Neil. Yes. Fuck. Please. Neil. Oh god. Please. Fuck. Neil.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-07 06:13 am (UTC)And it would never happen, because Neil simply couldn't fucking resist her in those moments: thighs spread, cunt slick, mind gone--all that strength and poise and grace given over to him simply because he loved her.
Drunk on her pleasure, the power of worlds in his hands on his knees before his queen...he didn't have the strength to hold her there, didn't have the restraint to remain unmoved by the whimpers of his name on her lips. He could only take her higher, give up his teasing and press his tongue deep inside of her, brush a thumb over her clit and fuck her with his mouth until those sounds turned desperate--then press his thumb a little harder, curl his tongue inside her, and push her over that precipice and into sweet oblivion.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-10 03:25 am (UTC)But he hadn't expressed the desire and this night wouldn't be the night for it anyhow. They might be sufficiently alone that the moans that dripped from her lips like the honey that dripped from her cunt belonged to Neil alone, but the threat of being found did still exist and fed the fire of pleasure with taboo, and she would not, could not, ever, allow anyone but Neil to see her completely given over to her need and mindless with sexual agony.
Still she had already slipped over from moans to sobbing breaths, her breasts shimmying and swaying against the fabric of her dress, taunting her with nowhere near enough contact to push her over. Everything, all of her, was Neil's, and if she thought she might die of waiting if he didn't let her come soon. Which was right about the moment that his tongue pushed so deep that his sideways turned mouth kissed her labia like her mouth, and his thumb drove her on.
Her grip on the bookshelf slipped, and she grasped frantically for another. Caught a book by the spine and tossed it accidentally to the floor. The noise went almost unheard amongst the wet sounds of her pleasure and her sobbing pleas, and yet another fell before she found her grip again. By then, her orgasm was on her, and she screamed for him like a hunting hawk once before she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle herself as she shuddered and shook and sought nothing but the strength of his arms to hold her up.