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🍂ཾ྆ཹཱིྂ Enchanted Forest ཾ྆ཹཱིྂ 🍂
The scent of damp earth and magic hung in the air when he found her. The forest was silent, tense. Until black smoke spread and Regina appeared, imposing, with that lascivious smile he already hated… or tried to hate.
“Look who came to play hero,” she whispered, her eyes scanning his body like someone evaluating a freshly served dish. “Still think you can beat me, Charming?”
“Where’s Snow?” His voice was firm, controlled. His fingers tightened around the sword’s hilt.
Regina approached like a cat ready to sink her claws in. Her black dress dragged leaves on the ground, but her steps were soft, dangerously sensual.
“At least…” She smiled, raising her gloved hand to touch his face. “You’re pretty. A pretty toy. Too bad you’re on the wrong side of the story.”
The touch was feline, slow, almost tender—but Regina didn’t offer tenderness. She offered poison, with a sweet scent of promise. Her thumb traced his jawline with surgical precision, then slid along the curve of his lips, causing a slight tremor she didn’t fail to notice.
Charming squinted. His breath faltered, heavy, escaping between his teeth like steam under pressure. His blood pulsed—not with anger, but with something more instinctive, dirtier.
David felt his stomach twist—not with disgust, but with hunger. A perverse, shameful kind, one he tried to bury beneath loyalty and morality. Her touch dug through each layer, finding deep inside what he didn’t want to admit: desire.
“Take. Your. Hand. Off me.” He hissed between clenched teeth, voice rough and strained.
Regina laughed.
Not mocking. No need. The sound was low, hot, intimate—like a moan overheard. David’s eyes shone. His jaw clenched. His lips were dry. He wanted her. More than he should. More than he wanted to admit.
“You think that way… I’ll free your little wife?” she whispered, leaning closer, warm breath brushing his skin. The smile curved her lips like a blade.
That was the spark. He grabbed her wrist brutally, fingers sinking without mercy, pushing her against the nearest tree. He didn’t think. Didn’t plan. Desire took over—pure, raw, animalistic.
The dull thud of her body against the trunk was muffled by the silence that followed. The crown fell sideways. A strand of dark hair escaped her perfect arrangement. Regina gasped.
Her wide eyes showed no fear—they showed something more dangerous: excitement. Curiosity. Surprise.
Their breathing was now a disjointed dance. She stared at him as if she had already won, even though she was pinned down. His fingers still gripped her wrist, their bodies pressed close, the heat between them rising.
David was pressed against her. His whole body ablaze, chest panting like a caged animal on the verge of exploding. His face was too close, eyes feverish, hungry. He could smell her—sweet, dark, intoxicating—mixed with the damp scent of the forest. The heat between their bodies was almost unbearable. His hip pressed firmly against hers. The undeniable pressure. The fragile line of control had already broken—he was only pretending to hold the pieces together.
“I shouldn’t…” he growled, low and wild, squeezing her wrist tighter. “I’m better than this.”
Regina saw it. Saw the flicker of weakness in his eyes, the last trace of morality trying to resist.
But his body told a different story.
She could feel it. The rigid, hard throbbing pressing against her. A raw, wild instinct pressing her waist through their clothes. He trembled. With anger, desire, guilt.
And that only turned her on more.
Regina arched her back slightly, pressing even closer. The friction was minimal—but enough to draw a rough sound from David’s throat. A sound he tried to hold back but couldn’t. His breath faltered. His hip reacted on impulse, pushing against her.
She smiled, slow, venomous.
“Better?” she whispered, tilting her face. “Men who say that… are usually the worst.”
He shuddered.
His eyes searched for some reason—any shred of sanity to hold onto. But she took it all away with her touch, her scent, her voice. The grip on her wrist tightened, and his hip jerked suddenly, involuntarily, seeking more contact. More friction. More of her.
David gasped, lost, tense like a rope about to snap. Control slipped through his fingers, and all that was left was instinct. Desire. A primitive desperation that left him hard, throbbing. Poisoned.
And the poison had a name, a scent, a voice. It was her.
“I’m not like that,” he said with a broken voice, as if naming his morals could still save him. As if words could erase what his body screamed.
Regina moistened her lips, her face turned over her shoulder. Her heart raced with a lascivious rhythm, as if even her blood was excited. She wanted more. Much more. She wanted to break down his last wall, the one clinging to the idea of purity.
She wanted to see him break.
“You think you’re better just because you came from the fields?” she spat the words with cruel sweetness, her hip moving against his, creating friction that made them both gasp. “A weak peasant trying to play hero?”
The sound that escaped David’s throat was almost a growl. His fingers released her wrist only to grab her waist brutally. His body pressed to hers, pushing, molding to her shape with a nearly violent desperation.
His hands ran along the hem of her dress, tearing the fabric with fierce haste, exposing the white, warm skin that seemed to glow in the filtered forest light. He gasped when he saw her—a wicked, dangerous vision. Unforgettable.
His fingers trembled as he undid the zipper of his own leather pants. His hard, throbbing cock sprang free, impatient, wet at the tip, demanding. For a moment, he hesitated. A whisper of honor still flickered deep inside.
Not like this. Not with this fury. You’re not that man…
But then Regina laughed.
Low. Hot. Malicious.
“Are you going to stop now, Charming? Run to Snow and tell her the wicked witch made you come against a tree?”
That was the spark.
The growl vibrating in his throat was no longer hesitation. It was primal. A raw sound from a man who had left behind the hero, the prince, the husband. Only the man remained. And desire.
He dug his fingers into her waist, sinking into flesh and rumpled fabric. Without warning, he thrust—a single, sharp, deep, hungry strike.
Regina screamed. Not from pain. From surprise, from pleasure. Her nails dug into the rough bark of the tree, seeking some balance, some resistance to keep from falling to her knees.
“That’s it...” she moaned through clenched teeth. “Fuck... that.”
He could barely breathe.
David grunted, squeezing tighter, his hips pounding mercilessly. He hammered into her like he wanted to lose himself. Like he needed to break her to save himself.
“Damn... witch...” he growled, voice hoarse, sinking his teeth into the curve of her shoulder.
Her body was hot, wet, too tight, as if it had been waiting for him all her life. The sweet scent rose from her skin, from her neck, from her hair, invading his nose like a slow poison.
And he hated her for it.
Hated how she made it look so easy. How she moaned like she was in control even while being fucked against a tree. Hated himself.
Hated how his cock throbbed inside her, how his hips moved on impulse, how his heart raced with pleasure. Hated that he liked it so much. That he wanted to do it again. That he felt turned on by that filthy scream, by that provocation.
“That’s it, Charming...” Regina gasped, eyes closing as if to absorb every second of what he was doing to her. Her hands trembled, fighting to hold on to the rough bark of the tree while his hips slammed hard against hers. “God... I didn’t know you were this rough...”
The words hit him like a dirty spell.
David grunted, burying himself even deeper, his whole body tense with pleasure and guilt. His cock throbbed, hard, too sensitive to these new sensations—he’d never had sex like this before. Never with such brutality. Never with so much hatred. Never with a witch.
He wasn’t the kind of man to hold a woman by the hips and push her against a tree without asking, without preparing her.
Chivalry dissolved into the sweat between their bodies.
David grunted, a raw, uncontrollable sound, driving deeper, as far as his body would allow. He felt his balls hit against her. Felt the hot, wet tightness, and his cock pulsing inside her like it was alive.
The thrusts came more and more rhythmic, firm, relentless. He moved as if he wanted to punish her… or punish himself for wanting her.
He shouted. A guttural, raw sound, as if tearing from within. His hands slid down to her thighs, pulling them against his body, deeply connected, tightly. The sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the forest—indecent, wet, filthy.
His cock ached—throbbing as if it might explode at any moment. The pleasure was unbearable, cruel. He wanted to come, wanted it to last, wanted it to end. All at the same time.
He pulled her hair harder, tilting her head back, groaning like a madman. His eyes glazed over, face flushed, his body pressed against hers with a need bordering on desperation.
His hands squeezed her breasts over the heavy dress, crushing the fabric without delicacy, desperate to feel everything—the heat, the texture, the reaction.
There was still an air of chivalry there. A spark. The same that made him tremble when he felt she hadn’t come yet.
He cursed under his breath, his fingers urgently sliding between her legs until they found her soaked clitoris. He began to massage it roughly, desperately, needing to make her come. As if that could redeem something. As if her orgasm was forgiveness.
“You still trying to be the good guy, Charming?” Regina whispered, her breath faltering, feeling his fingers teasing her most sensitive spot.
He moaned in response, pulling his hips away just once to thrust even deeper.
“You think if I come, it clears your conscience?”
David moaned back, a deep, desperate sound, wordless. He buried himself to the base, his hard cock pulsing violently inside her, as if his whole body was about to explode. He wasn’t thinking.
The touch was frantic—no technique, no gentleness, just pure need to see her break first. To make her lose control like he already had.
“Tell me, Charming...” she gasped, her body already convulsing. “Is it this good with Snow?”
“Don’t talk about her.” His voice came out low, hoarse, trembling with rage.
“Why?” Regina laughed, wild, provocative. “She doesn’t make you come like this?”
He growled. His hand on her clit tightened, making her scream with pleasure and pain. His hips moved brutally, each thrust deeper, more desperate.
Regina gasped, sweaty, her forehead pressed to the tree, her whole body begging for release.
He pressed his chest to her back, his teeth almost grazing her neck, his hips pounding furiously while his fingers kept pressing her.
Her whole body shuddered.
Regina moaned loudly, arching her back, muscles contracting in waves of raw pleasure. The orgasm ripped through her with fierce heat, wet and intense, almost making her dizzy. Her legs weakened, but he held her firmly by the waist, without hesitation. His fingers still sliding on her clit even as she tried to push his hand away with a trembling whisper:
“Charming... I’m sensitive...”
He didn’t listen. His fingers moved with brutal force, digging into her skin without a shred of mercy. Every touch was a mark of possession, a silent declaration of dominance. David’s body trembled, carried by a storm that went beyond reason—a mix of desire, frustration, and a restrained fury he had never allowed to explode like this.
A wicked smile curved his lips, dark and cruel. The Prince Charming was dead—buried under layers of pain, resentment, and wild lust. There was no longer room for that honorable and gentle man who once captivated hearts. There was no longer room for that honorable and gentle man who once captivated hearts. In that moment, there lived only the broken, dark, and violent man.
And it was exactly that broken, dark, and violent man that Regina wanted to send back to Snow. A man who wouldn’t stop before seeing tears. A shattered man who—
She clung to that truth, gathering all the sweetness and pain she could forge in her body. She pressed her hot, wet face against her own shoulder, her eyes shining with a sharp falsehood as she met him behind her, as if begging for mercy she didn’t really want.
''Charming... please...'' Regina moaned, with a honeyed voice, too delicate to be true. ''I’m way too sensitive... please...''
It was as if something inside him had broken, something irreversible—and he didn’t even notice. He had to gather what was left of his control to release her clitoris, replacing that urgent need with another: his hand rose violently, grabbing her breast over the dress, fingers squeezing, crushing, while his hips pounded against hers with force, slow, deep, hard, enjoying that hot pussy gripping his cock tightly with every spasm, drawing a hoarse, possessive laugh.
Regina moaned loudly, sweaty, desperate, crazed. She wanted him to come inside her.
He was close, but wasn’t sure if he would have the control to pull away—it was the right thing to do. The right thing was to come outside; he would never do this without permission.
But then he looked at her. The dress lifted, tangled hair, sweat running down perfect skin. That woman surrendered, wet, exposed—and yet with the most dominant look in the world.
The Evil Queen.
She doesn’t ask for permission. She takes.
And she didn’t deserve any sign of kindness.
His mind screamed that it was wrong, that he needed to stop—but his body had already decided. His hips buried deeper, faster, and the orgasm tore out of him with overwhelming violence.
''You bastard.'' he moaned loudly, almost screaming, as he came inside her, spurting hard, his whole body contracting against hers, as if she was sucking his soul along with the pleasure.
She smiled, victorious.
Feeling every hot drop flowing inside her.
David pulled back, gasping, eyes wide as if he’d just crossed an invisible wall he shouldn’t have crossed. His body still trembled, guilt and desire at war inside him.
He looked at Regina, still leaning against the tree, dress rumpled, face shining with sweat and satisfaction.
His climax spilled, hot and slow, sliding inside her, leaking down the inner thigh and dripping onto the forest floor.
Regina calmly adjusted her dress, her warm skin contrasting with the cold air, a slow smile forming on her lips as she turned to him.
''What did you do to me, Charming?'' her voice was almost a whisper, full of malice and provocation, as if she could read what was on his mind. ''What did you do to Snow?''
David staggered back, his body still panting, cold sweat dripping down his temples. He bit his own lip, his eyes glazed over as they fixed on her. On that woman who was smiling.
Satisfied. Completely satisfied.
She didn’t look hurt. She didn’t seem shaken.
She looked victorious.
''Regina… I’m sorry… ''he whispered, finally meeting her eyes, his face filled with regret, confusion, and guilt. His mind erased any trace of courage to tell Snow. As if that truth shouldn’t exist outside of that moment.
Regina lifted her chin. Her gaze darkened, returning to that of the Evil Queen.
She knew. She knew his guilt wasn’t for her. Not for what he’d done. It was for who he’d betrayed.
''Don’t worry… ''her voice was steady, unwavering, as she began to walk away, her thighs still wet with his release. ''I won’t tell Snow.''
David stood frozen, unable to move. She had left him there, in the middle of the forest, with the scent of sex still lingering in the air and the taste of guilt burning in his throat.
He watched her walk away, the dress swaying with each step. And he felt the pain inside him twist.
He had been rough. Hard. An idiot with her.
He had betrayed Snow, yes. But what really ate away at him was another crime: he had never... never treated a woman like that before.
And seeing Regina like it… that broke something inside him.
David stayed there, alone, his pants still poorly adjusted, his body throbbing, his heart racing — not from pleasure, but from shame.
He had hurt her. Not with words. Not with fists. With what she wanted. Brutality.
That gnawed at him more than the act of betrayal itself. Because to betray... to betray was a sin of desire. It was human, weak, selfish. But what he had been with Regina... that was deeper. It was as if he had ripped the prince’s cloak off his shoulders and revealed the man beneath: a peasant with anger, pent-up desire, a man who moaned like an animal seeing a woman writhe with pleasure under him.
And she liked it. God, how she liked it.
He saw it. In her eyes. In the way she begged for more. In the satisfied laugh she threw before turning her back.
And that was what broke him.
Not the betrayal itself. But the fact that he liked it too. The fact that he came harder than ever before. That he felt his own cock pulse with fury inside her. That he grabbed Regina’s hair and squeezed her breasts as if possessed.
He fell silent. For the first time... he didn’t know if he was more man or monster.