Make Outs and Heart Palps


@daneeelleee, A little birdie told me you were fond of Spoons, so this is a sneak peek for you as part of your @lovefromoq present! I am posting early because tomorrow is a bit mental for me, I hope you don’t mind. 🙂 Happy Valentine’s Day! It’s been a pleasure chatting with you over the last couple of weeks! Xx

They were supposed to go out an hour ago; they have reservations at the little Italian place on West, a cozy booth with wine bottle candle holders and wicker-encased Chianti, but as her hips drag lazily against his own, a delicious friction-induced moan rumbling from her throat in response, he decides the reservations can wait.

The boys are across the street with the babysitter, pajama clad and pizza stuffed and probably having a marvelous time, so if they simply enjoy the opportunity to snog on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers without the chance of interruption, instead of actually making it out of the house like proper adults on a real date like they planned, he’s not going to complain. Especially when she sucks on his bottom lip like that, before swiping her tongue along the seam of his mouth, her hips rocking against where he’s already hard, tenting the denim, rhythm matching the lazy, indulgent pattern of their kisses.

Dinner can definitely wait. He’d much rather spend the evening with warm palmfuls of her curves and the taste of Regina on his tongue.

“My heart’s racing,” she whispers, licking her lips, the touch ghosting along his own they’re still so close.

“Mine too,” he mumbles, diving back in for another kiss.

“No, Robin,” she says, pressing a hand to his chest, leaning a bit further away. “Not in,” she pants, breath coming in short gasping puffs, “the good way.”

His eyes pop open as she rolls off of him and flops onto the couch cushion, pressing fluttering fingers to the hollow of her neck. He watches as her lips move silently, counting he assumes, chest heaving with every breath.

“Shit,” he hisses, hands hovering over her not sure if touching her would make things better or worse, but desperately wanting to make some kind of contact, to make sure she’s okay. “What can I do?”

“Water,” she breathes, “get me some water.”

“Water, yeah, I can do that.” He stumbles off of the couch, rushing to the kitchen as quickly as he can with his now abating erection still pressing painfully against his jeans. He fills a glass with cool water and moves back to her side.

In the time he’s been gone she’s pulled her bag into her lap, shaking fingers pulling out a small, square pillbox. She pops open one of the clear plastic flaps, plucking an oblong white pill from inside that she slides under her tongue. She clicks the container closed, tosses it aside, then reaches for the glass of water, taking a long drink, tipping her head back so the pill can slide down her throat.

“Thank you,” she says, setting the water on the side table. “Guess this gives a whole new meaning to hot and bothered, huh?” She grins, but it’s a bit weak, her voice still thin and airy.

“Yeah. Guess so,” he agrees, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. “Feeling any better?”

“I’m fine, or I will be in a minute. Sorry, this is not how this evening was supposed to go.”

Shhh,” he soothes, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “There is nowhere I’d rather be.”

Clearly I need to read the rest of the verse, because this fic has me curious as hell, and that’s ALWAYS a good thing!