Work Text
As weeks turned into months in the Dark Castle, one thing became crystal clear. Rumplestiltskin might grumble about this chore or that falling by the wayside, but he didn’t much care how Belle spent her day.It had been a rainy fall that had given itself over winter weather well before the solstice. Belle had spent quite a lot of it holed up in the library, though she had begun to wonder if she was not giving enough credence to the niggling worry that he could just as easily take away what he had given. He hadn’t, of course; hadn’t so much as hinted at that, even after she whiled day after day away without so much as picking up a feather duster. But they had endured a full two weeks of wintery weather now. Rumplestiltskin continued to come and go as he pleased without bothering to change his boots and one thing had become obvious. She could no longer ignore the state of the floors.It was time consuming and backbreaking, but Belle didn’t mind the work, even as it stretched from one day into the next. A mindless, repetitive task gave her mind the freedom to roam; to weave connections between what she’d read, to relive scenes of adventure and romance from fiction, and, of course, to ponder her life as it was now. Why didn’t he mind if she spent the entire day in the library? If even the simplest task could be done with magic, why had he brought her here?She hadn’t found a definitive answer to her questions, but she did have a few hypotheses. Belle was a reader of science as well as fiction, and if she had learned anything it was that hypotheses should to be tested. She hadn’t quite worked up the gumption to test hers, yet. For a long time she hadn’t even been sure that she wanted to.But who was she, if not curious? And if this was to be her life, she wanted to explore all of the possibilities it had to offer.All she needed, she thought as she submerged her rag in sudsy water for the millionth time, was a bit of bravery.There was no need to clean the entirety of the foyer, the salon, and several hallways, but once she started on a task it was difficult to stop. Before she realized it, the sun had set and it was closing in on dinner time. Rumplestiltskin had been sequestered in his laboratory since the early hours of the morning and had only emerged very briefly for afternoon tea. She was a bit disappointed but not surprised to be eating her own small meal alone in the cavernous dining room. At least the floors were gleaming; they might have to be their own reward for a days worth of hard work.If there was one thing that Rumplestiltskin did care about, it was his tea. Only the best Orange Pekoe, full of tips and young buds, loose, and taken from a tin that had been TIGHTLY sealed, thank you very much. The water was to be poured into the pot the instant it boiled. And it was to be brought to him promptly; after breakfast, in the mid afternoon, and once more before she retired to her bed. The evening was dark, and cold; Belle wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders before picking up the tea tray. It wasn’t that late, but the day had felt long and she felt done with it.She was tired from work, but not so much that she couldn’t mount the last few steps up to the tower room. Something else had Belle fixed to the spot, watching him as he pinched a flask between thin, meticulous fingers and examined it in candle flame. His back was turned to her, and when he tilted his head she could just catch the outline of one sharp cheekbone. To stop breathing entirely wouldn’t be wise--a fainting spell on the staircase would be disastrous, even if she wasn't carrying a tray full of scalding water--but he couldn’t know that she was staring, so she tried to keep even that silent. Detection would raise questions, ones she wasn’t prepared to answer. He shifted, slightly and suddenly, and his face came into profile. The possibility that she had just been caught sent her stomach leaping into her chest. She cursed herself and wondered if it was too late to slink back down the stairs. It probably was, and his tea was rapidly cooling on the tray in her hands.There was nothing else to do but go up the rest of the way. Belle hoped that the hot flush on her cheeks wasn’t visible in the candlelight, as much as she hoped that awkward lurking had escaped his notice. He didn’t comment on any of it, just watched with a smile as she made her way over to his worktable.“Is it that time already?” She set the small tray on the only clear space on the table, taking care not to disturb the various apparatuses and flasks. “Are you off to bed?”She nodded. “And even earlier than last night,” he mused. “Being on your hands and knees all day must have been… tiring.”“It was, actually,” she countered. She filled the lone teacup for him, but once she set the teapot back down she found herself at a loss. Her hands were empty and his were so close, stirring sugar into solution as if the tea was another one of his potions. She took a step back and smoothed down her apron.“Well,” he said, after a careful sip of his tea, “the floors do look nice.”That was her cue to leave, probably, but she wasn’t ready for that. Not when the glow of a compliment, however off-handed, was taking root in her chest.What was the worst that could happen, if she touched him? Would he turn her into stone, banish her back to the dungeons? She couldn’t bring herself to be afraid of anything like that. She wasn’t afraid of him. Had she not already thrown her arms around him when he’d shown his merciful side? A touch was nothing. But a touch, apropos of nothing, would definitely mean something. Their little adventure in Sherwood Forest had been weeks ago. Whatever intimacy they’d shared then had not only not been repeated, but seemingly avoided at all costs. It stood to reason that the likely outcome was for him to skitter away, as always. Maybe look at her funny, not quite understanding. Belle didn’t quite understand, herself. But some things were becoming more difficult to deny.She was lingering, and he was looking at her strangely, now. Belle flailed for grounds to stay, and came up with the windows. They weren’t shrouded in heavy curtains here, and the view out was reason enough. She drifted over to one of them.There had been a blizzard brewing in the mountains all day, and it had now arrived. The wind was whipping the flakes so ferociously that she could hear them slam against the windows. The swirl of white was almost hypnotic.“Plotting an escape?” he asked, sidling up next to her.“No,” she snorted. “It’s just--it’s snowing again.”“You do realize that we live in the mountains,” he replied, setting his teacup down on the ledge and resting his hands next to it. “Of course it’s snowing.”“It doesn’t snow like this, where I come from,” she said, stealing a sidelong glance. They’d get a wet, heavy snowfall every five years or so; glorified rain, really, that would melt within days. This stuff--dry, fine crystals that somehow collected into knee-deep drifts and bit into her skin when the winds blew--was something else entirely.“You’ll get used to it, after a time. Winter’s only just beginning.” He stretched, cat-like, and she knew that in a moment he would go back to his affairs and she to hers. She wasn’t ready to leave this brief, sweet intersection of their lives behind. Her hand darted out, almost of its own accord. The walls didn’t crumble down around them when she brushed her fingers against his forearm, nor when they trailed down his sleeve and lingered on his hand for several heartbeats too long. He straightened his back, stiffened, but didn’t shy from her touch.“Goodnight, Rumplestiltskin,” she said, quickly squeezing his hand before taking her leave.The tower walls were still standing, the floor was just as solid as ever, and the worktable was still reliably sturdy underneath his palms. But everything had changed.She hadn’t touched him for weeks, months. And that had been absolutely fine. Good, in fact. He had been able to congratulate himself on managing to not think about bedding the help, as long as she kept the proper distance. He could continue to pretend that he hadn’t wanted to do so within hours of their deal. Or minutes, if he was completely honest.He was just a man, after all. Underneath everything.Rumplestiltskin watched her descend the staircase--as carefully as she’d been watching him, when he’d caught her--until the top of her head disappeared from view. Then he stared into the candle flame until it started to burn his retinas. It was just a touch. It didn’t have to mean anything. She was, after all, cloistered in a castle with no one but a monster for company. It was understandable that she’d crave a human--or not-so-human--connection every now and then.It didn’t mean that she wanted him.He blew out the breath that he was most definitely holding while his mind spun embarrassingly out of control. The candlelight flickered and he rubbed his eyes, willing his thoughts to clear. He picked up his flask and squinted at the viscous inky fluid within. It needed something; another liquified shaggy mane, perhaps. He picked up a stir stick and threaded it through the neck. Glass clinked against glass as he agitated the solution gently. There would be consequences if he didn’t concentrate. An unstable precipitate might fall out of solution with too vigorous a stir, and if it were anticlockwise instead of clockwise? He’d have an explosion on his hands.So he could not have thoughts of the swish of a blue dress clouding his vision. He simply could not be distracted by the image of impossibly blue eyes, sparkling with unconcealed intellect.She was just lonely, nothing more. Perhaps it would be best if he procured a pet for her. It wouldn’t be too obtrusive to have a cat around.Definitely. That would be a perfect. There was no way that he'd find himself staring if she bent over to pick it up...He sighed heavily and set the flask down on the worktop as quickly as he could without risking a slosh of the potion over the brim.It would keep. It would have to.The door to his bedchamber slammed shut behind him, and he locked it for good measure. Belle rarely entered his room; certainly never after dark. Why would the bed need to be made if it was never slept in? The furniture needed to be dusted once in a blue moon, and the pillows occasionally fluffed, but that was it.Still, it didn’t hurt to be careful. He didn’t need to remind himself that he no longer lived alone. He didn’t even make it onto the bed; he had barely made it to one of the posters rising from its foot before he started unlacing. There was no harm to this, really. It wasn’t as if he would ever act on it. Well, not any more than he was already.And why was she here, if not as a pretty thing to admire?He sucked in a breath and in a fit of paranoia threw a few enchantments at the closed door before pulling out his cock.As he wrapped his hand around the shaft and pulled up towards the head he breathed a sigh of something like relief. He couldn’t imagine being gentle with her laces, or her clothes for that matter. The time for apologies and reparative magic would come later.What would he do? Sweep off a table in the laboratory? He had enough sense to know that would be very stupid and dangerous and that the tables were so high, how was he going to fuck her on one of them anyway? Or maybe against a window, boosted up on the sill? No, he’d transport them to a bedroom. He could be a gentleman, if he had to.Until the moment that he had her completely bare before him. Oh no, then he’d need to inspect every last inch of her, his prize. He wanted to see exactly what he’d bargained for. This was where things got a little fuzzy, with details flitting in and out. But, what did it matter? He wasn’t going to ever know, anyway. Whether her nipples protruded or if they needed to be teased into peaks. How much hair was nestled between her thighs. He leaned heavily into the bed post, and breathed heavily too. To find the right balance of friction and the right slide of skin required care, but he’d had more years than most to perfect his technique. He slid his hand over and over the head of his cock as thought of the particular way she bit her lip, and oh, what it would mean if she bit it that way for him. He wanted to push her down into soft bed coverings, work his hand between her legs, plentiful curls or no, and slide his fingers between her lips. She would be so wet that he could hear his fingers moving against her. He’d tease and caress and draw out sweet moans, all for him. And then he’d be thrusting against her, tight leather the only thing between them. Until, with a breath, even that barrier would be gone. He’d slide deep, all the way; then somehow with a thrust, even deeper. She was his, all his. She was a woman who could never be possessed, not really, but in that moment she was. Willingly. So much so that she would come with his name on her lips, and then beg for more.Rumplestiltskin wanted nothing more than to drag the pleasure out forever. He would remain in the thrall of his hand and the image of Belle writhing beneath him all night and the entire next day besides. But he couldn’t, he was weak. He couldn’t hold back for another second. He shuddered with the ferocity of his climax and tried not to cry out, biting down hard on his lower lip to stifle the noises clawing their way out of his throat.It was all over far too quickly, but maybe not quickly enough. How much time was proper for a wild fantasy about the help? He didn’t know the answer, but what he did know was that warm fluid was coating the web of his thumb, and that he needed to track down some sort of rag.All this over a touch. Fuck. He was in trouble.One of the benefits to living in the Dark One’s castle was the near limitless access to warm running water. Rumplestiltskin had never told her that she couldn’t make use of the many bathtubs, and so she did- at every opportunity. Belle’s favourite bathroom had a large window and a wonderful selection of floral scented soaps and salts that never seemed to get used by anyone but her. She had decided early on that if he wouldn’t make use of such a luxury, she would. She drew the curtains closed against the cold, ran the water and slipped into the tub. It was deep and generously sized, large enough that she could almost submerge herself completely. While she soaked her tired muscles in heat and mineral salts, she stared at the ceiling. She had hoped that some insight might rise up from depths of the water, but nothing like that had emerged. Just thoughts of careful fingers with dark nails, wandering all over her body.She sighed and sunk down until the water was at her chin. So, she had done something. He hadn’t flinched away at her touch, but nothing else had happened either.They were free to carry on, alone, together.Except that she now wanted something more. Ached for it.Did there have to be a reason that she felt the way she did? Other than that he was intriguing and clever and funny and kind to her, apart from a rather bumpy beginning.And there was the way he looked at her, of course. Longer than he should, when he didn’t think she would notice. The lingering smiles. The thought that he might want her too was exciting. Maybe, just maybe, against all odds, there was something real waiting to be uncovered.If she chose to do so.Belle kicked the drain’s cover off. She pulled herself out of the rapidly draining water, letting most of the drops fall from her skin before she reached for a towel. The contrast between the heat of the water and the coolness of the air was almost exhilarating. She was covered in gooseflesh.She had managed to be brave for a moment, but that meant nothing in isolation. To do more required more bravery, and she felt as if she had mustered all she could.It was a short walk from the bathroom to her own little room, but even so it wasn’t proper to do it without being properly covered. In her opinion a nightdress and her long shawl fit the bill well enough; she wasn’t going to do anything else than go straight to bed anyway, and the odds that she’d encounter the only other resident of the castle were slim at this hour.She padded down the long hallway, carrying her work clothes in a bundle at her chest, her way illuminated by candles spelled into perpetual light. The wind had died down for the moment and enough snow had fallen that the world was blanketed into silence. It was so quiet. If she was smart she would be quiet too; shush the kicked up thoughts and emotions and go about the rest of her life as if they didn’t exist. He was the Dark One. Even if he didn’t frighten her like he should, he wasn’t exactly safe.She didn’t need a book to tell her that the Dark One was prone to the darkest of urges; it was not only obvious but plain to see. But he was capable of kindness in the face of all that, and it surely meant more when such a thing didn’t come naturally.There was so much more there than the darkness, of that much she was sure.She shifted the load in her arms and reached out her hand for her door handle. It turned with a click, soft but almost echoing in the silence of the hallway. Belle glanced one way and then the other, hopeful beyond reason. There was nobody there. She was alone.The door latched behind her with a click, at the push of her foot. Her bundle of clothing went onto the simple wooden chair in one dark corner, and she draped her shawl on top. With that sorted, there was nothing else to do but lie down on her creaky bed, even if sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. There was something flitting about; a pull, perhaps, or a yearning for… what? Resolution? Another touch or three or a thousand?There was nothing for her beyond her door, not tonight. Whatever it was that she wanted was too far out of reach.Luckily, the next best thing was readily available. She had promised her life to him, but she’d never committed to one without pleasure. And if he wasn’t going to touch her, that responsibility fell squarely on her shoulders.She tugged up the hem of her nightdress with one hand and palmed one breast with the other.His skin had been surprisingly warm when she’d touched him. How would it feel to have that heat radiating onto other parts of her body?She could still his nervous fingers--how could she possibly make him so nervous?--plucking them from the air and redirecting them. It would be such a sweet relief when they finally touched her skin.Gods, he was so beautiful, gold skin and strange eyes very much included. She imagined those eyes close to hers, gazing at her unabashedly and full of desire. Not necessarily the gentle kind, either, though maybe she would see a glint of something tender before evolving into something more carnal, frightening and exciting.What would it feel like to have his fingers between her legs instead? What about slim hips nestled between her thighs, while his weight pushed her hard into the mattress. She rocked against the first knuckle of her thumb. He would have her and there would be no escaping, even if she wanted to. And she definitely didn’t want to. Belle hitched against the pressure of her hand and moaned, louder than she meant to. She brought her free hand up to muffle the sound as the wave crested and she surrendered to the spill. The aftershocks ripped through, leaving her trembling and mouthing exaltations to the gods, and then she fell perfectly still. Still as the air in her room, silent except for the sound of soft, panting breaths. The untranquil feeling, whatever it was, was still there. Beckoning.“Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered, and his name wafted into the air like a puff of smoke.The Dark One didn’t usually sleep, but he was damned near it until he thought he heard something. Or maybe it was something felt; whatever it was, it rippled through the air, subtle, sweet and barely tangible. Like a voice carried on a breeze.Had it even been real?He entertained the possibility for a second, then shook his head. The blizzard continued to roar outside. It was likely just the wailing of the wind. That, or his mind was playing tricks on him as he drifted between scolding rationality and sated sleepiness. But whatever it had been, it served as a decent impetus to get up. He was a mess, completely undone, but it would not do to lay there forever. Once he was up, the guilt really sank its talons into him. How could a simple touch have him boiling over exothermically? It was embarrassing; or, it would have been if there was even a chance that she’d find out.He stalked over to the water basin, filling it with a wave of his hand. The cool water dripped messily down his arms as he splashed his face, soaking uncomfortably into his sleeves. He stared into the basin, watching the ripples until they dissipated. She could never find out. When his reflection once again resolved on the surface of the water he splashed it away in disgust. Did Belle have any inkling that she was beholden to this kind of monster? It was unfair enough that she had been compelled to trade her freedom to a man, must he lust after her as well?He shook his head, amused at his own thoughts. He had been the one to force that deal upon her. Wasn’t it fascinating that he was only now having second thoughts about it?If it took finding release to thoughts of her to become a better man, he was well on his way to being a goddamn saint.He had intended to head straight back to the laboratory, but for some reason he found himself wandering the halls. It would have been nice if he could have truthfully said that it was of the aimless, restless sort, but it most certainly was not a coincidence that he had ended up in the wing of the castle where the only other occupant slept. What he was hoping to accomplish, he couldn’t say. Belle was certainly asleep by now, and he had no interest in looming over her like some opportunistic, predatory creature of the night. Still, there was almost… a pull. Like a siren’s voice had worked its way through wax, imparting an irresistible yearning. He drifted past her room, holding his breath in the ridiculous hope that he might hear her within. There was not a peep coming from behind the door, and he was relieved at that. What had he intended on doing if that hadn’t been the case? Would he have thrown open her door to say- what? “Good evening, Belle; I just finished (really finished) having the most depraved thoughts about you and I decided to invade your privacy because even that wasn’t enough and I needed to see you as well.”?Maybe he should do just that, if only so that she could slap some sense into him. Swiveling on a heel, he began to retrace his path as fast as his feet would carry him. He traversed one hallway, and the next. She would never have to know. Once he turned the next corner it would be as if this had never happened-In his haste he almost ended up knocking her over. Both of his palms flew up reflexively, and although he had succeeded in halting his considerable momentum they hovered uncomfortably close to her torso. Her wide eyes locked with his, then darted down to his hands and back up again. He twiddled his fingers and balled them into fists before dropping them down to his sides.“I wasn’t aware that I had a somnambulist living in my castle,” he muttered, taking an unsteady step back. It was sarcasm, of course, but he did have to wonder. He narrowed his eyes. No, that wasn’t what was happening. “What are you doing?”“I… I felt something,” she murmured, then caught her lip between her teeth for the briefest of seconds. The motion was exactly as he had imagined, but he batted that thought away as soon as it arose. “Didn’t you?”Silence filled the small space between them, and then he was stammering out, “I--I don’t know what you’re talking about.”“What are you doing here, then?” she asked, fixing him with a penetrating stare. He pressed his thumbs against his middle fingers, almost to the point of pain.“Am I not able to wander my own halls at will?” he managed to reply, with a not-at-all defensive scoff. She knew as well as he; he was far from his usual domain. His mind spun. Something felt odd, but if there was something sinister going on he had no idea what it could be. It was far more likely that something more mundane was happening. He pressed the back of a hand to her forehead. “Are you not feeling well? Did you drink something you should have?”She lifted his hand off of her forehead, but instead of letting it fall back to his side, she cradled it between both of hers. He should have pulled away, should have taken another step back, but he was quite rooted in place. “No, I--” she started, almost dreamily, then shook her head. “It’s just…”“Just?” he croaked. “Oh, never mind.”She leaned in, and he was powerless to do anything as she pressed her lips against his, except to whimper.The kiss may have been uncertain to start, but as soon as Rumplestiltskin reciprocated it underwent a rapid evolution. Belle was giddy to the point that she could hardly believe that it was really happening. His lips felt so wonderful against hers, almost too good, but she wasn’t about to ruin the moment with scrutiny.There was scarcely a chance to come up for breath for what felt like minutes, but then Rumplestiltskin withdrew slightly. “I don’t know where your sense of self preservation wandered off to--” he murmured before interrupting himself with several presses of his lips to hers. “But you’d best find it.”“And, if I don’t?” Belle asked, voice thick in her throat. He leaned in close again, and she took her chance. He was firmer when he pulled away from the kiss, this time.“Then there’s no telling how far this might go.”It was meant as a caution, but it did nothing but make her heart pound.“Right,” she said shakily. “Right.” Taking a step back and pivoting, she wondered if the audible exhale from behind her was one of disappointment or relief. She hoped with all her might that it was the former, and that she wasn’t making a mistake by catching his hand up in hers.“Belle, what--?”Belle gave his hand a gentle tug. “I want to find out,” she said, glancing back at him over her shoulder, “how much further this might go. Don’t you?”He may have said nothing but he did walk with her, at least for a few paces. Then, so suddenly that she gasped, he yanked on her hand. In a single deft motion he had her turned around and pressed against the wall. He kissed her, deeper; his tongue teased at her lips, and she opened them obligingly and melted into him. The stone of the wall felt uneven against her back--he was holding her hard against it with his entire body, but he'd had the foresight to cushion the back of her head with his hand. Consequently, his fingertips tugged at the roots of her hair, and she moaned.“You don’t have to do this.” His breath was hot on her cheek, and was that him, hard against her hip? “I know that I’m not--”She kissed him again, stealing the words from his lips. Wasn’t what, exactly? A prince charming? She’d spent years tolerating tall, dark and superficially winsome, and not because she wanted to. It had been expected.“I want to.” Because I want you, Rumplestiltskin, she thought; all of the strangeness and the danger and the unexpected. It was a want teetering on need. Would she frighten him away, if she confessed to that? “If you do?”His pupils flicked back and forth as he studied her, and her heart thrummed in her chest. Waiting for his answer was excruciating. She was right there, in front of him. Or rather, slightly beneath him and willingly pinned against a wall, but either way; she was holding out her heart and fervently asking him to take it. Did he even want to take it?But, finally, miraculously, he breathed a “yes”. A feeling of ecstatic excitement bubbled up from deep within, but what to do with it? He wasn’t even kissing her now, just breathing as heavily as she. Bravery had brought her this far, but it seemed that a little confidence was too much of an ask. What was he waiting for?After a moment, he moved his lips to her ear. “You haven’t done this before.” It wasn’t a question.“That’s an awfully big assumption.” she chided, hoping the nerves weren’t shining through as much as she felt like they were. He chuckled before pressing his lips to her jawbone.“Do you mean to tell me that I’m wrong?” he asked. “Is that a problem?” Belle countered with a gasp. He slid his mouth upward again, this time to her earlobe. He mouthed and sucked at it instead of answering.“If I said that it didn’t give me pause,” he whispered, “I’d be lying.” The pressure of his body on hers eased a little, and her heart sank. But he didn’t pull away completely. He was still close enough that she could wrap her arms around his neck. “But you have? Uh, done this before?” He raised an eyebrow. She felt silly posing it as a question. Of course he had.“Enough times to know a thing or two.”Belle saw her opening, and she grasped onto it with both hands. “Everyone needs to be taught how to dance.”He huffed a breath. “And you would choose… me. To be your partner?”“Teacher,” she corrected. “Yes. That is what I’m saying. Teach me. Please.”There was the pressure she craved, the glorious feeling of his body on hers. She parted her lips and brazenly met his tongue with hers, this time. If his groan was any indication, he was enjoying the idea. So was she, and when he disentangled himself from her embrace she could have sobbed.“Rumplestiltskin,” she whimpered in protest. “I can promise you pleasure, but nothing else,” he hissed. “Is that really what you want, Belle?”Belle considered. Was it? It wasn’t as if she had expected anything else, when she’d opened her door. Not that he’d get down on one knee, promise to make her the Queen of the Dark Castle. That was probably never in their future. But she didn’t need to be a queen to find out what his fingers could really do for her, did she? Nothing else needed to be real.She slowly pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, enjoying the way his eyes widened in response. “I desire a dance lesson, and nothing more.” Rumplestiltskin tilted his head.“I’ll tell you what.” He held out a palm and swirled the other through the air above it. An hourglass appeared; he turned it over and handed it to her. “When all of the sand has fallen, and if you haven’t changed your mind--”“I’m not going to--”He held up a hand. “If you haven’t changed your mind,” he repeated, “then, come to my bedchamber. I’ll be there.”Belle frowned. The trickle of sand from the upper chamber was far from quick. “This marks an hour?”“Fret not. It’s the solstice. There’s a long night ahead.” He took a large step backwards, and grinned, though it seemed half-hearted. “An hour is nothing.”Before she had the chance to argue some more, he vanished in a cloud of smoke.Though he’d been the one to set the timer, Rumplestiltskin had found himself at a loss of what to do. He stared at the snow whipping past the window for a while, but then the urge to pace overtook him. He wished he could spin, wanted to lose himself in the steady creak of the wheel, but it wasn’t here and he didn’t want it to be. There wasn’t enough room on the floor, anyway. Not with all the candles he’d set out.He wondered if it was too much, or possibly not enough. The room did look much nicer bathed in the warm candlelight, even if having candles everywhere did make it difficult and mildly hazardous to stalk about.Should he change into something else? He was adorned as protectively as always, and the sharp textures and endless laces weren’t exactly inviting. But he already felt like a lizard, lurking in his boudoir. What would she think if she arrived and he was dressed in--did he even have anything more comfortable? There was always a glamour spell, but…He succumbed to the urge to throw himself on his bed, then pressed his fingers to his closed eyelids. It didn’t matter what he did or didn’t do, because she wasn’t going to come. An hour was more than enough time to come to one’s senses. The time waiting would be better spent steeling himself against inevitable rejection.And he had realized another problem too, now that he’d had a chance to think with the head capable of logic. If she did come, was it possible to proceed without trampling all over lines drawn carefully in the sand? They had been set out for a reason and not exclusively for her benefit. He sighed. Maybe it wouldn’t be a problem. After all, he was the Dark One. The Dark One could surely fuck a sweet, smart, courageous, beautiful woman without acquiring that kind of pesky emotional attachment. Zero potential for issues there. And if she did? It didn’t matter, because he was absolutely sure that he did not want to put himself through that again, ever. He no longer had the stomach for that sort of exquisite pain.Rumplestiltskin was very fond of Belle, it was true. And she was most certainly attractive, but it didn’t need to go any further than that. He had promised her pleasure, and he could give her that while stealing some away from herself. He wasn’t in the habit of turning away gifts. If she turned up.Maybe he had hallucinated the entire exchange in the hallway, poisoned by one of his own creations? Or maybe he had fallen asleep in his bed after all? It didn’t feel real. Blobs of colour amassed and faded in his otherwise dark visual field, products of the pressure from his fingers and the flickering firelight.She didn’t want him. Why should she? This was never going to happen--There was a soft knock at his door.Alarm, surprise, and hope converged in a single point in his chest. He sat bolt upright.For a moment he couldn’t bring himself to move, but there it was again.As tempted as he was to fling the door open with magic, he instead took a breath, collected himself, and walked up to the closed door like a normal human might. He opened it slowly, half expecting to find an empty hallway.There she stood; pale, beautiful, and wearing only her nightgown and a difficult-to-read expression.A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and defied all efforts to suppress it. “Belle.”“Mmm.” A smile stole across her own lips when she spotted his. “Happy to see me?” She handed him the hourglass, just as the last grains of sand fell from the top, and he immediately tossed it in the aether. It could languish in a million pieces on the floor of his vault for the rest of time.The urge to lob an oh-so-clever quip as an opening volley was still there, but this wasn’t a battle. It hardly even qualified as a conquest. She wanted him, she’d come to him. He wasn’t happy to see her; he was overjoyed. He kissed her hungrily. The urge to pin her against the heavy wooden door was difficult to resist, but it was important that she understood that the running was still good.She didn’t run. Instead she kissed him in return without the slightest hint of fear, following him deeper into the room. They were mere steps from the bed before he managed to wrench himself from her intoxicating lips. “You’re not a prisoner, here.” However much he wanted to drag her onto the covers and ravish her, that certainly needed to be said, first. “You may leave anytime you wish.”“I understand.”“Do you?”Her eyes flitted to a spot somewhere behind him, then back. “You did leave the door open. Literally,” she commented with a sly smile, then ambled over to sit on his bed as if she were its owner.He studied her, as closely as he ever had. “This is what you want?”“This is what I want.” Belle motioned for him to sit.He blew out a breath through his nose. The smile was back, threatening to overtake his entire face. In the interest of not grinning like an idiot, though, he quashed it as much as he could.He pulled a delicate cut-crystal goblet from the air and handed it to her, then conjured a tiny phial filled with a thin greenish liquid.“Then, this is for you,” he said, pulling the cork from the phial and dumping the contents into the goblet. She raised her eyebrows, and he continued, “unless you’re keen on hearing the pitter-patter of tiny feet?”“Oh,” she said, pulling her lips into what might have been a self-conscious smile. “Uh, no. Not right now.” Well played, Dark One, he chided himself. And what if she had said that she was? What then? His mind swam with possibilities before he violently shoved them out.That would not be a good way to avoid an emotional attachment.“Drink up, then,” he said. “And you’ll be protected for a moon’s turning, or three.”“That’s… rather inexact.”“Such things always are.”She drained the goblet and handed it back to him. “That’s it,” she asked, making a face. “That’s all it takes?”“We can discuss the recipe another time, perhaps,” he said, plucking the goblet from her hand and setting it aside. “But, yes.” He sat down next to her, stroked her cheek and stole another kiss. She tasted vaguely of anise.“I’m not sure what to do,” she admitted, once they came up for air.If he was an honourable man, he would have reminded her that she didn’t have to do anything at all. Perhaps even cautioned her against it. Unfortunately for her, that part of him had not exactly been left intact by his curse.“Just, listen,” he said, instead. “Learn. Enjoy.” He hooked a fingertip beneath the neckline of her nightdress. “You could start by removing this.”With a glance down at his fingers and then a glorious bite of her lower lip, she stood. He watched carefully as she lifted the garment over her head and was spellbound by the time it dropped to the floor. She was all smooth curves and glowing skin, erect nipples and dark curls, everything accentuated by dancing firelight and shadow. Everything he had imagined and, somehow, more.“And now?” she asked, drifting close enough that her legs touched his. She nudged one leg between his knees, then the other once he made room. “And, now.” Everything felt electric with her this close, certainly his palms did as they slid up the backs of her thighs. How was he to decide where to start when he wanted to touch her everywhere at once?One thing at a time. He settled on a slow upward glide of his hands, all the way from her legs to her mid back; now she was close enough to explore with his lips.He mouthed at the underside of a perfect breast. She smelled like roses and soap and… desire. “And now,” he murmured, picking up the thread he had carelessly dropped in distraction. A possibility was taking shape in his head, carrying with it… potential. There were ways to make this memorable while still being appropriately gentle. Perhaps he might even be able to entertain a few desires of his own. “And now, sweet Belle, you have a choice to make.”That piqued her interest. “Do I?” she asked.“Mmm.” He nosed up and over to her nipple and circled his tongue around its puckered areola. “I can show you stars, or we can set our sights on something even brighter.”Her hands were roaming now too, up into his hair. “What’s brighter than the stars?” she breathed; he gave her nipple a gentle suck, and she replied with a rather ungentle tug at his locks.“A supernova.”He let that sink in and allowed her to consider. He was preoccupied, after all; he disengaged from one breast only to seek out the other.“Well,” she said, finally. “I’ve already seen the stars tonight.” Rumplestiltskin stopped, mid-kiss, to peer up at her. If her incandescent grin was anything to go by, Belle was pleased to have surprised him. No wonder she already smelled of sex--so much for sober second thought. “So, if you’re offering something more… I want that.”“Adventurous. I like it.” He had expected nothing less, but he was delighted all the same. His hands drifted down her impossibly soft skin to the fleshy muscles of her backside. “It will require a little more… patience.”“We do have the whole night ahead of us,” she reminded him, and he chuckled. “Minus one hour. Pity.” He squeezed her with both hands and she arched closer. Both of her thighs were in dangerous proximity to his crotch, suddenly. He wanted to rock against them, but there would be time enough for that. There were lofty promises to keep, still. He planted one more kiss between her breasts, then tilted his head towards the head of the bed. “Lie down.”Belle shuffled out from between the crook of his legs and clamoured up onto the bed.Once she was settled in among the pillows she asked, “here?”Never in his wildest fantasies had he imagined that she would look this resplendent, stretched out on his bed. Rumplestiltskin swallowed the lump in his throat, nodded, then crawled up next to her. With a shift of his hips he was flush against her side.His tongue sought out hers and he palmed her breasts. She moaned into his mouth as his fingertips converged on a nipple, to roll and gently tug at it. Far be it from him to do anything half-way, he repeated the motion, on the same breast and then the other. She continued to make the most addictive noises as they kissed, ones that shot straight downwards from his lips.After teasing out a few more moans his hand roved across her abdomen and over the curve of a hip to nestle between her thighs.“Legs apart,” he whispered, once his thumb brushed against her curls. When she quickly complied he planted a kiss on her shoulder. “Thank you.” He slid his fingers between her lips and drawled her name, trying very hard to hide his astonishment. “You do want me.”She nodded rapidly and breathed a “yes”. His fingers slid easily now, and he moved them up and up, coaxing her fluids all over. “Yes, yes you do,” he continued, framing her clit with two fingers and rolling it gently between his knuckles. Belle threw her head back against the pillows, a far cry from being repulsed by his little drift into imp. He used every part of his fingers--knuckles and pads and tips, stroking and ghosting and circling. He followed her as she bucked and rolled. Oh, she was making this easy for him, almost too easy, and he was very interested to see how she would handle what was coming next. Everything was about to hinge on her.“Are you almost there?” Judging from the tension building in her muscles she was, and she confirmed it with a nod.He stole his fingers away, and once she registered their absence she mewled in protest.“Then hold on to it.” She tried to replace his hand with hers, but he grabbed her wrist and pinned it just in time. “Shh. That’s it.” He peppered her neck with kisses and small nibbles until she relaxed under his lips. Propping himself up on his elbow he breathed a, “well done.”“Rumplestiltskin.” Hearing every syllable of his name from her lips, between ragged breaths, sent a thrill up his spine.“Good things come to those who wait. If they can wait.” He stroked her cheek. “Can you wait for me, Belle?”“I think so.” Her eyes fluttered open again, they were alight- with fascination and desire, if he wasn’t mistaken. “For a supernova.”He clucked his tongue. “Now is not the time for uncertainty.” “I can,” she said. “I will, just--touch me.”“Demanding, demanding.” There was the start of a protest when he shifted his weight; he snatched it from her with another kiss, an assurance that he wasn’t going anywhere. Just downward. He settled between her legs, finding much to enjoy about his new vantage point. Her delicate inner lips, for instance; just as delectable and inviting as the ones on her face. The swollen bundle of nerves peeking demurely from beneath its hood at their apex. All of her, so close and beautiful and awaiting his touch.He could have--should have!--been dreaming. But if it wasn’t real, he didn’t care. She'd scream for him either way.“Belle,” he asked, loving the way her name rolled off his tongue as he stroked her clit with his thumb. “How do you feel about my fingers--” he paused, then slid the thumb down--“inside here?”“Intrigued,” she sighed, to his utter delight. One. He’d start with one. He moved his re-moistened thumb back up to her clit, then sucked on the index finger of his opposite hand.“What were you doing, before I found you wandering my halls?” He ventured in to the first knuckle once, twice…“Thinking about you,” she moaned, and he slid all the way in. “Oh--”“I feel as if there’s something you aren’t telling me.” He pumped the finger gently, watching it disappear into her again and again as he stroked her with the other hand. “Was it a passing thought? Or something more?”Belle squirmed deliciously against the pillows. “I was thinking about you taking what you want from me.”Rumplestiltskin hummed. Fascinating. “Then I’d say you got exactly what you wanted.”“Not… not quite.”“Oh, is there something else you want, my sweet?” Her inner muscles squeezed in from all sides. “Something that I’m not letting you have?” She was getting close again, he could feel it. “Do you know me to be cruel?”Belle whimpered. “No. No you’re not,” she babbled. “You’re… no. You’re not.”When he withdrew his hands this time she nearly sobbed with want and slammed both fists against the bed.“I sometimes think that it might be argued,” he said drolly, once she’d recovered. Two fingers this time, he decided; he held them up for her to see before he eased them inside her. “But, I can be kind.” He crooked his fingers and rocked his wrist. “And generous.” All roses were edible and he wasn’t about to let this one go to waste. Letting his jaw go slack, he wrapped his lips around her clit. It was incredible, the feel of her and her taste and the way she voiced her pleasure at every flick of his tongue, every messy suck. He was helpless but to grind into the mattress even as he tried to devour her whole. Rumplestiltskin poured everything he had into bringing her to her peak; every trick, every tidbit gleaned from experience; every urge he’d ever had since she came into his life. When she tumbled over the edge, she screamed and her muscles pulsed as strongly as if he was holding a heart in his hand.“Was that magic?” she asked, the very moment she had her breath back. Her voice was shaky and hoarse and he couldn’t help but feel extremely chuffed.“Just me.” He scooted back up to her side. “And you.”“Rumple. Oh, gods, Rumple, that was--” She stopped herself abruptly and shot him an anxious glance. “Is… is it alright if I call you that?”“Of course it is,” he replied, shaking his head in wonderment. After everything, that was what worried her? Belle breathed a sigh of relief and her smile--her glorious, warm, sated smile--pierced straight through his dark heart.“That was phenomenal.” Leaning in, she planted a soft kiss on his lips and then hooked one leg across his. “Rumple.” He watched intently as she pushed up to straddle him, fascinated by her boldness. She arranged her knees gingerly against scaled leather and softly declared, “I want to touch you.” He stifled a sigh, and she continued, running a finger over the tight laces of his waistcoat. “I want to see you.”“That can be arranged.” His trousers were more than uncomfortably tight, after all. Belle fished out a knot and picked at it. It did not cooperate. She looked down at him with raised eyebrows.“How do you manage to do this yourself? It must take forever!”“Ah, well,” he admitted. “There are some things I use magic for.” With a snap of his fingers, his layers sublimated away.Her eyes widened, and she did nothing but blink for a few very long seconds.“It’s not as bad as all that,” he finally remarked. “Surely.”Belle came back to herself with a start. “Sorry! No, that isn’t it, I just, I haven’t--” It may have been dark, but she was definitely blushing. “May I touch you?”“Yes. Oh, yes,” he hissed as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. Rumplestiltskin pledged right then and there to make an offering to whichever god was patron to explorers as she did just that with his cock. “Don’t feel like you need to be delicate,” he offered, between gritted teeth. “There aren’t any punishments for… pluck.”“Then whatever is the dungeon for?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow, and he nearly ate his words that very second.One day, such things could be negotiated. For the time being, he decided to make due with a rough kiss.“I would have never let you leave, was that its purpose,” he said, once he had released her lower lip from between his teeth.It may have taken a stroke or two, but soon he was groaning with each pass of her palm over the head. She was doing almost too well for how wrought-up he was, and it forced him to consider his options.He could just let it happen, come all over her hand as he’d done with his. Or perhaps try his luck with her mouth. But he’d gone to all the trouble of having her drink the potion and it seemed a shame to waste it.Rumplestiltskin stilled her hand with his, earning a questioning look. He guided her hand off of him and sat up. Sliding his legs from beneath her hips, he dropped his knees to the sides and pulled his feet in close, crossing one ankle over the other. She squinted at him in confusion, and he realized that it might look a little strange, but if she could trust the process… Then she would be close enough to really savour, and he would have a chance of lasting- hopefully even long enough to demonstrate the benefits of this kind of lovemak--Of allowing the Dark One fuck her.“Come here."She inched closer on her knees, and he thought hard about how to describe what he wanted from her. “Bring your legs around my hips. On my lap.” Perhaps this was ambitious for a first time, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. She obliged him, laughing a little as she steadied herself on his shoulders and eased her pelvis over his. “That’s it.” With one hand he clutched at her hip while he reached between them with the other. The head of his cock met with her silky heat and he tugged greedily at her hip. She took a deep breath and held it while she slid down, ever so slowly.This had never been a stipulation of their deal, but now he couldn’t believe that he’d ever managed to summon the restraint. Belle released her breath with a gasp. “Breathe,” he urged, massaging his thumbs against her hips. “Breathe with me.” She sipped in a breath, long and deep, and the tension in her face lessened considerably with their shared exhale. “There’s pleasure here, too.”“I believe that,” she replied, shifting her weight between her knees experimentally. “Show me.”“Wrap your legs around me first,” he said, “and I’ll prove it to you.”It took a little doing, but with the first rock of his hips against hers he knew he’d made the right decision.“Rumple,” she moaned, and he was excited anew as she mimicked the motion with her own hips. Rumplestiltskin had never been so happy to be forced to take his time. He held on tight, cherishing every sound that escaped her lips, every twist of pleasure that overtook her beautiful face as they moved against each other. She was too good for him and definitely too good to be riding him like a champion, but here she was. “I’m going to--” she started, her words breaking into a strangled cry as he ground up into her.“It comes with a price,” he panted, cradling the back of her head with both hands. “Kiss me.”Her lips slammed into his and he held her there, against his face and right on the edge of ecstasy. When she shattered around him he realized two things with sudden clarity: one, that he was the luckiest bastard on the face of the Earth and two, that he was going to come in her, hard.He wrenched his lips from hers and tossed his head back. Words came tumbling out of his mouth, along with her name and various affectionate ones that she probably didn’t know he had for her, until now. He had promised her an orgasm of cosmic proportions, but he hadn’t necessarily expected one for himself.“How is it that you feel that good, Belle?” he wheezed, pressing his forehead to hers. She beamed at him and reality fell on him like a quarry's worth of granite. He was breathing her breath, he had made her scream and clench and smile like that. Belle’s eyes were wide open. She was seeing him; steadfastly seeing him. There was not even a hint of hesitation, nary a flinch. Only undisguised affection.And there it was; the tumble overboard into waters the same blue as her eyes, where desire to drown was far stronger than the one to draw breath… Oh no. Oh no no no. He couldn’t do this. Not again.Leaning back abruptly, he fixed his eyes on the shadows collected in the vaulted ceiling.It had all been laid out before him. It would have been plain to see if he hadn’t willingly blinded himself. And now it was too late to turn back.“Are you all right?” Belle asked, quietly.Rumplestiltskin breathed a sigh, willing iron on himself before he met her gaze again. “Yes.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “I have a potion to finish. It’s unstable,” he added, as her face fell. It was a decent enough excuse, since it happened to be true. He extricated himself, taking no care to avoid a wet mess on the bed covers. That was the least of his worries.“Did I do something wrong?” Rumplestiltskin laid a gentle kiss on her cheek, a weak apology for provoking the disappointment in her voice. “You were--are--perfect. Stay here, if you wish. Rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”Belle laid the tea tray on the table, and Rumplestiltskin had his fingers tented as he always did, waiting. She had spent the morning waiting, too. At first, for an explanation for his sudden departure the night before; then simply for an acknowledgement that anything had happened between them at all. Was it ridiculous to expect such a thing? So many hours had passed; she was beyond idle wondering and well into self-doubt.Rumplestiltskin had been in his laboratory when she’d bid him good morning, in the middle of bottling something tar-like and vile. He hadn’t seemed unhappy at the interruption, but he hadn’t exactly lit up, either. And then he’d asked her how she’d slept, in the most infuriatingly neutral tone.Belle didn’t know what to think.Perhaps it truly had been the potion. Or perhaps it had all been a dream. Perhaps she was supposed to behave as if it had been. Perhaps nothing had changed.“Do you need me for anything else?” she asked, tipping the teapot upward right before she overfilled his cup. Then, tentatively, she added, “Rumple?”He had been gazing studiously down at his fingers, but the sobriquet earned her a look and half a smile. “No, that’s all for now, Belle,” he said, reaching for the sugar bowl. “Thank you.”Belle nodded repeatedly, hoping that the motion might disguise the blinking back of tears. The rhythmic clink of the tiny spoon echoed in her ears.He had promised pleasure, and she'd gotten it in spades.Rumplestiltskin was a touch sticky about deals. It was very possible that he considered that one fulfilled in full.If that was the case, if she expected more she was bound to be disappointed.She might have forgotten that the teapot was still in her hand, but her wrist hadn’t. The double tap of his spoon against the cup’s brim brought her back to her body and the muscles in her arm protested all at once. She steered the teapot back to its place on the tray and released her grip. Mid-shake of the offended hand, Rumplestiltskin took it in his.“Actually,” he said, “I’d like your help with something, after this. Bundle up.”Belle stared at her hand, enveloped in his, then at him. “Outside?”“Yes, outside,” he replied, so nonchalantly that she wondered if she was imagining that his thumb was stroking hers. “If you’d care to join me?”She most certainly did.The day was another bitterly cold one, but her fur-lined red cloak kept her toasty enough. The blizzard had left deep, packed drifts that made walking difficult, even in boots, but the sun was out and the sky was clear. Belle waited as bidden at the foot of a massive oak tree, watching nervously as Rumplestiltskin navigated the lower branches and then disappeared behind the great trunk. They hadn’t spoken of anything of significance, yet. But they had spoken, and their banter felt as natural as it ever had.The distinctive snap of old wood breaking rang out. Belle almost cried out in alarm but his hand appeared round the trunk, unscathed and outstretched.“Hand me the sickle,” he barked, and Belle waited in silence until he added a mostly sincere, “please”.She shook her head and laughed before trudging over to the far side of the tree.“I never thought I’d see you climb a tree.” She retrieved the small golden blade from the basket on her arm and handed it up to him. “Yes, well.” He took hold of the handle with care, then pulled himself back up by way of another branch. “Some things must be done by hand.”He climbed away a little, far enough that she could no longer discern what he was doing through the tangle of branches. It shouldn’t have made her nervous. He was surely going to be fine if he fell; he wasn’t up that high even without considering dark magic. Still, she was relieved when he passed the sickle back and clamoured back down.“Did you find any?” she asked. He reached inside his cloak in place of an answer and pulled out a sizable bundle of mistletoe.Belle clasped her hands together in delight. “You must be happy!”He raised his eyebrows and smiled mysteriously before tucking the foliage away. The moisture from his breath had started to freeze in his wild curls, making the strands around his face look like silver wires.“Let’s have a look in your basket,” he said. Belle shifted it off of her elbow so that he could inspect its contents. “Do you think we have enough greenery?”Belle hummed, considering. They’d certainly collected enough that it was feeling heavy on her arm; they had cedar, fir, pinecones and many sprigs of holly. All in all it was a respectable haul, definitely enough to bring some much needed cheer to the castle. She already had a few ideas about the arrangements she might make.“I think so,” she said. He nodded in agreement and she heaved the basket back on her arm.Or at least, she tried. As soon as the handles landed in the crook of her elbow they vanished, reappearing in Rumplestiltskin’s hands.“We’d best get back,” he said. “I feel as if the wind is picking up.” As if punctuating his statement a breeze cut through the air. It whipped through her cloak, leaving her to frantically clutch at the edges with exposed fingers.“I think that’s a good idea,” she agreed through chattering teeth.Rumplestiltskin frowned. “Cold, are we?” He set the basket down in the snow and took her hands in his. How hands were so unnaturally warm she didn’t know; he was always warm--warm everywhere, as she now knew--even if his reptilian appearance suggested otherwise. “You should have brought mittens. Did I not tell you to dress warmly?”“I don’t have any,” she said, burrowing her freezing fingers into his palms. He raised an eyebrow. “And now you do.” And there they were, manifesting as a thick, fur lined layer between his skin and hers. Cold as she was, she couldn’t bring herself to be upset about the loss of contact. He hadn’t yet stolen his hands back, after all.“Thank you.” He was right, the weather was changing, quickly; it always did, in the mountains. They needed to make some headway on their return to the castle, or she was risking frostnip at the very least. But she couldn’t bring herself to part with his hands or with the moment. The wind had once again stilled, and he was standing still with her. “What is it now?” he asked quietly.It felt silly. She was probably imagining the little pull between them, flitting about the air like snowflakes stirred up by the wind. It was no more real than the one that had enticed her from her bed. Minds were tricky. She didn’t want to scare him off with flights of fancy, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too.“I feel like something’s changing,” she said. It was the only thing she could come up with, and even saying that felt risky. “Don’t you?”He blinked, then stared away into the distance. A few very long seconds passed.“It’s almost a new year,” he mused. “Perhaps it’s time for a new deal.”Belle’s swallowed. Hope sprang into her chest.“I’m sure we can come up with one.”“I feel as if you have something in mind already.”“Just an opening request,” she replied, chancing a smile. “Kiss me.”Belle half-expected a retreat, but Rumplestiltskin leaned in, carefully, as if she were a flighty doe; as if they hadn’t just shared the most intimate embraces just hours before. She squeezed his hands through her mittens. “Something has changed,” he murmured, a fingerbreadth from her lips. The air between them was charged, alive. Suddenly, she knew what it was. “It’s real,” she breathed. He bobbed his head slightly and closed the gap between them.Their lips touched and the wind picked up, howling around them with a force so tremendous that it almost felt…
Like magic.