I said I wasn't going to write for any other day than the fifth one, but here we are. This came to me while I was sleep deprived, fashioned after a fanfic I've read once upon a long time ago.

For Geli, whose friendship means more to me than I could ever express. Thank you for everything you've done for me in the few months that I have known you. Here you go, bub.

I present you, OQ Smut Week Day 3: OQ Sex in public. This is AU. All Disclaimers apply. Enjoy.

If loving you is wrong, then I don't want to be right

Regina x Robin|| Alternate Universe

The music hall is dark and the stage is empty save for the large grand piano that sits right at the middle. The quiet is disturbed by the sound of the pitter patter of the rain against the roof, echoing off the acoustics on the ceiling. Thunder rumbles and the lightning strikes from the outside, but it doesn't matter now, not even the chill in the room.

Regina Mills eyes the piano right at the middle of the stage, the low light coming from the hallway that streams through the open door making the shiny black wood glimmer. She drops her purse to the foot of the stage as she slowly makes her way to the center, her hands slowly running through the smooth lid. She lifts it, lifts the cover and then presses one key, and then another, playing a melody that she's created, a random one—one that reflects her mood.

This is a mistake, she thinks, and it's not just about her staying long after the class hours, long after the professors had probably gone for the day and the classes are done. It's been raining all day, pouring harder just at her dismissal time and she'd entertained herself in the library—tucking herself in the corner with a book to keep her company. She hadn't taken notice of the time, had let it run so far away for her that it had been late when she'd realized that the library was almost as good as empty. By then, the rain had been pouring harder and even her leather boots and black coat are no match for the torrential downpour outside. So she's stayed behind, let herself roam the halls of her college. There are a few more classes by then—night classes and graduate studies which accommodate people who couldn't go to regular ones.

She smiles softly now, even as her mind thinks that she should not be here, and lets herself get caught in the tunes coming out from her favorite instrument. She hasn't played in so long—she thinks.

When was the last time?

Ah, yeah, her 18th birthday, two years ago, she supposes, just a few days before the tragedy that has taken the life of the first man she's ever loved—Daniel. Her heart aches at the thought of him, as bittersweet memories fill the organ she's convinced herself is solely made for pumping blood now. She can't love anymore.

Well, that is not exactly true—she thinks she might be in love with someone. But she isn't sure how she could act on it. As a matter of fact, she is pretty much a hundred percent sure she should not act on it, for she is in love with a man that is out of her bounds. She is in love with a man she can never reach, never have, should never have—the laws of the universe conspiring against them.

She isn't sure where she stands with him, is only sure that a few stolen glances and one shared kiss in the back alley of Granny's diner off campus isn't enough to make herself believe that he could love her. But by god, how much she wishes that it could be…enough, that is.

She has an affinity for the unattainable, she realizes, scoffing internally. This is why her love life is butchered all over the place—because she always chooses the wrong person to love. Or maybe it is the right person, just the wrong time.

She shakes her head. It isn't going to happen and she needs to shake out of it. She sits down on the bench, enchanted by the instrument that has always made her feel like she's coming home—wherever she might be. Her fingers hover over the keys, as she closes her eyes and wonders what to play—Bach? Mozzart?

No, too reminiscent of mother, and the pain that is entailed by the distance between them now—not that she can actually talk or think about it right at the moment.

Sinatra, she decides, Sinatra is always safe, and she can sing along. No one is here, no one would know. She bites her lip and lets her heart take the lead, lets her fingers play the piece that has always been a favorite of hers. She starts out slow, soft, before she lets herself take a deep breath and just let it go, let it flow, let the emotions run and bleed through her.

"Something in your eyes was so inviting," she sings, letting her voice fill the empty silence, knowing that no one would here. Images of piercing blue eyes and dimpled cheek flit through her mind, and she bites her lip a little, trying to suppress that flows along with the words of the osng. She continues with, "Something in you smile was so exciting, something in my heart told me I must have you."

…

It is late. He should get home to his son, he's sure that his babysitter would be grateful to be relieved of her duties. But it is raining, and he'd reasoned that it would be better to wait it out a bit and just let the rain calm down a little than meet an accident on the road. A few more hours shouldn't hurt—and yes, he won't be able to tuck his son in for the night, but, at least he'd be assured that his son won't be without a father.

So Robin Locksley did what he had to, he'd stayed behind and waited the rain out, grading the papers his students had passed for his English Literature class to lighten his load. And it had been a peaceful few hours of him checking the papers, he'd even managed to cut it in half, when he hears the first strings of music coming down the hall. He's not sure there are many other people left on the campus grounds. Actually he's pretty sure himself and the guard are the only ones left in this building, and so he goes to investigate.

The light in the hallway flickers a little and he looks up briefly before he continues on his path to the music auditorium. He isn't prepared, however, for what greets him and he feels like he is knocked off his own ass as he looks up at the stage.

Regina. Regina Mills, his student from one of his classes—of course. The very same woman he's been fancying all this time, not just because of her beauty (which she has an abundance of), but also because of her brains, her wit and intelligence, her compassion. She is a goddess, in his eyes, a perfect woman who is very, very desirable to him (why else would he be kissing her at the back of Granny's diner and stealing glances at him), and so very, very off-limits.

She is his student, a woman who is twelve years his junior, and a woman, a lady, that he finds more interesting than any woman twice her age.

And by god, does she look gorgeous to him now—bathed by the lights streaming from the open door, eyes closed and fingers playing his most favorite Sinatra song. She looks divine, ethereal even, and lord knows that he could begin to write every word in the dictionary that could fit the sight that he is seeing now, but none of them would be enough.

God, he wants to kiss her.

He walks closer, notices that she doesn't even open her eyes or pause as she pours her heart out with every word of the song, too engrossed with the piece to even know that he's watching. It feels odd, watching her, and he feels like a voyeur right now, even feels like he's invading her privacy, but he is powerless to stop himself, powerless to walk away.

He can no longer walk away.

He heads straight to the center of the stage, the sound of his footsteps unheard over the sound of the percussion playing, and he looks at her, looks at her like he wants to have all of her, because he does. He wants her, and good lord, he can no longer stop himself now.

He leans on the piano when he reaches her, and she still hasn't noticed, apparently, until he traces his index finger down the side of her face in a soft caress. Her eyes pop open and she jumps, flinching in fright. He smiles when her eyes fall into his, trying his best to reassure her.

"Hello, Regina," he says with a soft voice as though afraid to break the moment. He is. He is afraid that she might suddenly just disappear again and this turns out to be just another one of his dreams about her. He cannot have that.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, her voice clipped and her guards up. She is in both defence and offence as she wraps her arms around her middle, fingers falling away from the kiss. His eyes seek hers but she looks away.

"I don't know," he admits. "I guess my heart took me here." It is true. He's followed with his ear, but it is his heart that's taken him here.

"Ro—Professor Locksley," she says in a cold voice, no doubt still lashing out after the last conversation they've had where he as good as told her that this—this cannot be. They cannot possibly fall into each other, too many things are at risk, yet here they are. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here. I should leave." She makes a move to get up, and she actually successfully stands up, even as she stumbles just a little bit.

But he pins her to the piano in a swift move, unable to let her go again this time without a fight. Consequences be damned, he needs her. He wants her. and by god, he loves her—even if all signs point out to him that this should not be how it is.

"Tell me," he asks of her and she turns her head a bit so she is looking at him. He feels his heart hammering in his chest, he is half scared it would burst out of his chest. "Why my heart keeps leading me back to you? Because I have tried to let this go, knowing that it isn't right, it's not proper, but" he tells her, and it's the truth. "I'm not strong enough."

He isn't allowed to feel this way to a student. Not this intensely, not like this at all. Yet here they are.

"Robin," she whispers, her voice soft and her breath tickling his skin as he stands close, too close to her. If they get caught in this position, his whole career is in jeopardy, will be tossed in trash in a second, yet, none of that matters now. Not when she is in his arms, it doesn't. "You said it was best to stay away, but seeing you here and hearing about your conflicted thoughts," she pauses as she steps away from his embrace, "it's torture."

"I have lived by a code my entire life," he begins as he reels her in once more into his arms, locking her into a tight embrace, "I've tried to do everything by the code, but tonight, tonight isn't going to be one of those days." And he leans in to capture her mouth into his, one hand snaking around her waist to tether her to him, and the other reaching up to tangle with her tresses, pulling her closer as he kisses her, kisses her with everything that he has.

…

She isn't sure if this is heaven or hell. She isn't sure if she feels like celebrating or kicking him on the shin as he kisses the living daylights out of her. His lips twine with hers over and over, his tongue licking at the seams of her lips to ask for the entrance that she grants with a moan.

If she has any doubts whether or not she loves him, they are erased now as he pulls her closer, walking her backwards until her back hits the piano lightly. He pushes her up and she wraps her legs around his waist as his tongue wreaks havoc to her consciousness. She can't think straight, not with his tongue thrusting in and out of her mouth the way it does, not when he lifts her up and places her on top of the keys, her ass banging down and making random loud sound against them. He doesn't bother with the lid as he lines hot kisses down her the column of her throat, sucking with fervor at her succulent flesh.

She throws her head back as her fingers cards through his hair, and his fingers deftly undo the buttons of her coat. Thank God she's ditched the scarf today. He slides her coat down her arms and off her body, throwing it to the ground behind him carelessly. He kisses her again, stealing away any thoughts and her breath, and she smiles against his lips, happy that he's finally, finally letting this happen.

She understands his concerns, there are all valid concerns, but she doesn't understand how he is able to restrain himself because she's pretty sure her panties get damp at just the sight of him, never mind when he actually speaks or smiles and those dimples peek through his stubble.

And speaking of stubble, she feels the hairs on his cheek and chin rub against her skin and it sends shivers up and down her spine. His hands span her waist now, fingers curling at the hem of her blouse before he's tugging it up, lifting it up and over her head and throwing it on the floor, letting it join her coat.

"Robin," she sighs when he pulls back, eyeing her, even as his fingers are working on the clasps of her bra. This is going way too fast, escalating too quickly, but she cannot seem to find it in her heart to care when it's finally happening after months and months of waiting.

He pulls her lace bra away from her chest, revealing to himself her breasts. She feels self conscious with the way her looks at her, even with the dim lights, but she lets out a moan when he reaches out a finger to trace her puckered pink nipple.

"Beautiful," he mutters, shaking his head in marvel as though he could not believe it. at the back of her mind, Regina realizes that she's still sitting on the keys, but it doesn't matter when he leans in and pulls her nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling, tasting, rolling it around his tongue, muttering a "And al mine," with a mouthful of her breast. He shifts to the other and gives it the same treatment, spending long moments just on her breasts.

She moans, and of course she is all his, all his.

"Yes," she says, feeling his fingers tickling her skin as they travel down her stomach to the button of her jeans, undoing them. He pulls it down her legs but it gets stuck on her boots, and so he pulls them off and throws it somewhere in the stage, her pants quickly following. "Robin, what if someone sees us?" she asks then in a sudden bout of panic, leaning up from her reclining position. He is now seated on the bench, just at level with her sex.

"Relax," he says with a grin that makes him look ten times younger, "We're all alone." She still hesitates. "Do you trust me?" She nods. "Lay back, and enjoy my love."

She does as he bids, lets herself enjoy the moment. She feels his nose rubbing at the soft skin of her inner thighs, grazing up and up, right to where she needs his mouth to be. She feels him nuzzle his nose against the scrap of lace that separates her from him and his tongue. He inhales deeply, and it makes her shudder before he licks against the lace, and even through the fabric she feels his tongue and it makes electricity travel down her spine.

He does it again, longer this time, flattening his tongue before dragging it from her slit up to her clit. She threads her fingers through his hair and tugs, needing to feel his tongue on her heated flesh. She's wet now, so wet and slippery and she needs him, god, she needs him to eat her out and make her cum.

"Robin please," she pleads out of sheer desperation. Her hands come up to tease her own breasts, the danger of being caught so far behind her brain now, really, the least of her concerns.

This is wrong, but for fuck's sake, nothing has ever felt so right.

She gasps when she feels his finger brush up against her cunt as he moves the thin scrap of lace aside to run his tongue right to her flesh making her moan and gasp in pure delight. It isn't even seconds before he is pushing her panties down her hips and he is lapping her up, kissing, sucking, licking, nibbling, nipping against her sex. His tongue flicks against her clit, then drags down to her slit, thrusting in once, twice, just enough to drive her mad but never to bring her to brink. He fucks her, fucks her skillfully with that wonderful tongue that she finds is not only talented in delivering flowery words and sincere sentiments that make her heart burst, but is also capable of fucking her hard and fast, making her come before him with a few well placed sucking and licking.

He doesn't let up, even when she comes the first time, and she feels him licking against her folds, then her clit again before he inserts two fingers into her welcoming heat, shifting then thrusting, curling his fingers just at the right angle to hit her g-spot. His uses his other thumb to drag her pussy up, revealing the tight bundle of nerves. He doesn't give her a second before he is licking, flicking his tongue against her clit while her fingers thrust in and out of her in rapid succession, making her shut her eyes stars to appear behind her eyelids, jaw dropping as she comes, and comes hard.

She opens her eyes after a few moments and feels him pressing kisses on her belly. She looks at him, finding that adorable smile she loves, and she gives one back, sliding down from the keys to his lap where she proceeds to quietly remove his clothing from his body.

"I think your clothes have overstayed their welcome," she teases him continuing on her task until he's as buck naked a she is. She licks the middle of her palm, eyes trained on him, before letting it slide between them, wrapping around his painfully erect member, and then stroking him once, twice, pumping hard that he feels he might shoot his load right at her stomach if she continues this way. He closes her eyes and lets him pump him in her arms again and again, fingers clenching and unclenching around her waist, until he feels he can no longer stand it.

God he needs to be inside her.

Without saying a word her stands from the bench and carries her to the side. He puts her down on her feet and urges her to turn around, bending her over by the waist and asking her to brace herself. When she does so, he stands behind her, holding her by the waist as he slowly, inch by inch, pushed himself inside her.

He feels good, feels long and thick and he makes her feel full, like she's finally found the missing pieces to her soul that she's never even realized she didn't have anymore or were missing.

She feels the glorious feeling of having her soul tether to another, finding its mate, and it's wonderful—a feeling that brings tears to her eyes and makes her want for this to never end.

"You like that, my love?" he asks as he nails into her, slowly at first, building speed until she's putty in his hand, her hips bucking into his from behind, thrusting against his.

They build a rhythm that satisfies them both, and before she knows it her orgasm is already building, low, spreading slow like wildfire before it explodes into her, and she's gasping, asking him to not, stop, never stop, she needs more, more of him, god, fuck, Robin, more. Which he provides happily, pumping into her through her climax, and building another one in her as he thrusts away madly behind her, his low growls and her groans filling in the room, reverberating through the cavernous space.

"Yes, mmhmm, yes, Robin, fu-da-god, yes," she gasps out as he shifts, changes angle, thrusting deeper, harder, faster, until she's coming again, yes, again, and he's following behind her, her name falling from his lips in grunt.

He spills inside her and she feels like magic—feels like their own brand of kismet.

He pulls her to him and they slide to the floor. She turns a bit so she could place a kiss agains his chin.

"If loving you is wrong, then wrong I shall be," he mutters against her temple as he catches his breath.

She smiles, running her hand down his chest, not caring in the slightest if they are sweaty, naked, or just had sex in school property—she's in his arms, and that's all that matters.

"If loving you is wrong," she parrots, reaching up to kiss him softly. "Then I'd never want to be right."

Fin (12.17.15)

That turned a little angstier than I originally planned. Hiding under a rock forever after this haha. Tell me what you guys think! Happy OQ Smut Week! sorry for the mistakes. I'm really, really, really, sleep deprived.