A/N: as a punishment for writing smutty limericks about he and dr-nicholas-rush (yes, really), mr-r-gold made me write something that he knew well and truly would squick me out. He requested a teacher/student smut fic with an underage Belle. Now, I'm aware that I sail pretty close to the wind with TLG and BFAE, but Belle and Gold do actually have a shared history and are deeply in love with one another. In this fic, Gold is a teacher, and in a position of power. Hence the squick. Therefore…
Trigger warnings for underage sex and student/teacher sex. If you have issues with either of those, do not read this fic. Most especially do not read this fic now I've warned you and THEN have a go at me about the subject matter. I realise this is OOC. I realise that Gold would not do this. This is very much an AU.
Belle made her way wearily to class, hoping she could make it before her teacher got there. She was never late in the normal course of things, but then things were hardly normal. Her father had had a bad night, the fourth in a row, and she had sat with him from two-thirty in the morning, trying to be cheerful, for his sake. He had finally slipped into something resembling a peaceful sleep around seven, and Belle, much to her present chagrin, had put her head down on her folded arms for a moment. When next she looked at the clock, it was almost nine-thirty, and the high school day had long since started. Luckily the first lesson was History, and she had a good relationship with Mr Short, who taught the class. She was confident that he would be understanding.
She yawned widely as she entered Storybrooke High through the side doors, ignoring the curious looks sent towards her by wandering staff members. Her eyes were grainy with tiredness, and she didn't feel equipped to deal with her chemistry teacher. Mr Gold was, to put it mildly, a bastard. A highly attractive bastard, to be sure, although Ruby and Emma would have stared at her incredulously if they had known of her secret, all-consuming crush on the man. This was something she had kept very much to herself, and not just because they couldn't see how delicious he was. Belle was well aware that the rest of the students in her chemistry class hated their teacher with a fiery passion, but she thought this was an unfair assessment. Yes, he was harsh. Yes, he graded ungenerously and would respond with biting sarcasm to anyone who got a question wrong, but she had learned more studying under him for the past couple of months than she had the previous three years, when she had been taught by Mr Tindall, a hapless man on the cusp of retirement who frequently slept through class and smelt suspiciously of whisky. He had left under something of a cloud at the end of the previous school year, much to Belle's relief. Any students thinking that Mr Gold's arrival would mean more of the same had been sorely disappointed.
Belle sighed as she pushed open the classroom door, hefting her bag of books on her shoulder. At least she wasn't late; Mr Gold was nowhere to be seen. Ruby's anxious face looked around, dark hair fanning out as she turned, and she gestured to a seat beside her.
"I didn't think you were going to make it," she whispered. "Where have you been? Rough night?"
"The worst," sighed Belle. "And Gold's going to flip his shit over the homework, I just know it."
"You'll be fine," said Ruby reassuringly. "It's only the second piece of work, and you did okay in the last one. He's not going to ride your ass for having an off-day."
"It was more than a bloody off-day," grumbled Belle, trying not to think about Mr Gold riding her, and failing miserably. She started pulling out books to hide her blush.
The quiet chatter of the other students died at the faint, clicking sound of Gold's cane in the corridor outside, and Belle and Ruby straightened up as he limped into the classroom.
"Settle down, all of you," he said coldly, although no one was moving around. Belle's heart sank at the look in his dark eyes when he swept them across the ranks of students. Any hope she had entertained of him not having marked the assignments died as he caught and held her gaze for a moment. He turned away, setting the battered black leather case he carried everywhere on the desk and opening it up, drawing out a sheaf of papers. Without a word he began walking around the classroom, dropping assignments onto students with a look of distaste on his features, as though they were coated in dung.
Ruby pulled an agonised face when hers landed in front of her with a large, red D minus scrawled across it. Belle sighed. Chemistry was one of Ruby's better subjects, but even she had struggled with the homework, it seemed. She waited for her own grade, but Mr Gold went on handing out papers and didn't come near her. She exchanged a curious, slightly panicky look with Ruby as he walked slowly up to the front of the classroom and turned to face them, hands folded over the gold handle of his cane. The silence in the room was deafening.
"So, you have your papers," he said quietly. "May I express my displeasure with the quality of this work? The general standard was appalling. Barely a third of you received a passing grade. Quite what you have been learning in the years before I arrived here eludes me."
Belle chewed her lip, wondering if she should draw herself to his attention. Curiosity over her grade won out, and she lifted her hand in the air somewhat nervously. Gold swung his eyes to her.
"Yes, Miss French?" he asked coldly, and Belle hesitated.
"Sir, you haven't - I mean, my assignment…" she faltered, and his mouth twitched.
"Ah, yes," he said, his voice soft, and somehow sinister. "See me after class, Miss French. My office."
He turned away, and Belle felt her stomach lurch at his evident disappointment. Ruby squeezed her hand sympathetically, but she found it hard to concentrate for the remainder of the class, despite knowing what it would mean when she came to do the next assignment. Sure enough, Gold gave them another lengthy piece of work to do, causing a few of the braver students to groan.
"Spare me your self-pity, Mr Nolan!" snapped Gold, glaring at one of the boys and causing him to sink lower in his seat. "If your dreadful grades won't motivate you to study for this class, perhaps I ought to start handing out detentions!"
That shut the class up, and they sat in silence as they copied down the assignment from the whiteboard. Belle sighed, rubbing her eyes. It looked as though she'd be working late into the night again.
"You may go," said Gold quietly, and the scrape of chairs was loud. Gold made his way from the classroom, not looking at any of them, and the noise level increased substantially.
"That bastard!" complained David Nolan, shoving his books into his bag with a bad grace. "Would it have killed him to ease up on us for a week? I have a ton of other stuff to do besides this - crap!" He threw his chemistry book down on the desk with a disgruntled look.
"Well, maybe you should have done the work, instead of winging it," remarked his girlfriend Mary, twitching a dark eyebrow at him, her own paper bearing a healthy C-plus. He pulled an amused face at her, and took her hand as they left the classroom, Mary shooting Belle a sympathetic look as she went. Belle started putting her books back in her bag, hoping that Gold wouldn't keep her long. She still had to prepare for her English class, and she had planned to spend most of the lunch hour in the library to finish off the work.
"I'll see you later?" said Ruby, shooting her a supportive smile. "Want to study tonight? I could come over, bring dinner."
"That would be fantastic," said Belle gratefully. "I'll see you after school, Rubes."
Ruby gave her a quick hug, whispered 'Don't let the bastard get to you', and ran off to lunch. Belle dragged her feet, the last to leave the classroom. Her stomach had been doing cartwheels ever since Mr Gold had turned his gaze on her with a fire she had not seen in him before. Was her paper really that bad? She had seen some of the grades that others had gotten. There wasn't anything lower than an F, right? Unless he'd made up some new grade that meant that not only did you fail, but you also gave up any right to freedom and were condemned to a life of servitude in the school, cleaning toilets and refilling the vending machines.
Feeling gloomy, she turned into the corridor where Gold kept his office. She had never been in there before, and was feeling anxious. Why the hell hadn't she done the work for this stupid paper? She should have known how he'd react. Fretting, and nervously bouncing up and down on her toes, she knocked on his door.
"Come in."
Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, and closed it behind her, pushing it shut with her rear and leaning against it. Mr Gold was seated behind his desk, scribbling something.
"A moment, Miss French," he said dismissively, and Belle took the opportunity to look around his office. It was neat and clean, the room ringed with shelves holding a vast array of books. Belle was surprised to see that only one wall contained chemistry texts, the remainder being books on physics and mathematics, psychology, and an entire shelf of novels. She turned her head, trying the read the titles on the spines.
"Are you here to go through my entire library, Miss French?" Mr Gold's dry tone made her jump, and she turned to face him. He was sitting back in his chair, his pen placed on the papers in front of him. He had removed his jacket, and was clad in his suit pants and a black silk shirt, a waistcoat over the top of it. She had never seen him without the perfect armour of his three-piece suit before, and the sight of his silk-clad arms made her feel somewhat light-headed.
"Sorry," she said hurriedly, hoping she wouldn't start blushing. Sunlight was filtering through the window, shining on the brown hair that brushed his shoulders and fell around his face. She could see where his hair was greying, silver strands gleaming in the sun, and her belly clenched a little.
"You - asked me to come to your office, Mr Gold," she added, wishing he'd just get it over with, whatever he wanted.
"Indeed I did." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Please, Miss French, have a seat."
His voice was delicious, when it wasn't filled with rage. She loved his accent, somewhat softened from years in the US, as her own was. When he was teaching, when he was involved in a discussion of the subject he loved, his voice flowed over her like warm, liquid chocolate, making her want to listen to him forever. Now, however, it was cold, impassive. It scared her.
"You noticed that I didn't give you back your assignment," he said calmly. "Frankly, I was so disappointed in your obvious lack of preparation that I wanted to speak to you about it."
Belle hung her head. As she suspected. He dug in he pile of papers on his desk, pulling one out and slapping it on the polished wood Belle felt her insides squirm as she looked at the scrawls of red adorning the front page. She looked in vain for a grade.
"I didn't grade it," he said, voicing her thoughts. "Hence our discussion today. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Belle shrugged, feeling terrible, and his eyes narrowed.
"This is a hard class," he said evenly. "Whatever your previous teacher was like, and I assure you I've heard the rumours, I will insist on teaching you the material needed to pass, rather than letting you coast and then fail. I speak quickly, I ask you questions, and I expect you to answer. I also expect you to come to my class having done the required reading. I expect you to fully commit to your preparation and do your best in whatever work I choose to assign. In return I will make you a better student, do you understand?"
"I…" Belle tried to answer, but he talked over her.
"This – garbage," he threw her essay back at her. "Is fit only for being put through a shredder and ending up at the bottom of a hamster cage."
"I know," admitted Belle, and he looked surprised.
"Then why the bloody hell did you insult my intelligence by handing it in?" he demanded. "This was a complete waste of your time, and, therefore of mine."
"I had to hand in something!" she pleaded. "I know it was terrible, and I'm sorry! I just - I - no, I don't have an excuse." She looked down.
He was frowning at her, tapping his pen on the papers.
"You're a highly intelligent girl, Miss French," he said severely. "All your other teachers sing your praises. I know lack of ability when I see it. I don't see it in you. I believe that you are more than capable of producing excellent work, which means that, in my class, you have chosen not to. Why is that, I wonder?"
Belle remained silent, trying not to fidget. His eyes raked her, looking her over as though he would somehow find the answers to her unsatisfactory performance in the cut of her shirt, the drape of her short skirt, the gleaming mahogany curls of her hair.
"Am I doing something wrong, as a teacher?" he asked then. "Are you finding it difficult to follow me in class, perhaps? Is it the accent?"
"Oh no!" she said hastily. "I love your accent, it makes me…" She cut off, blushing, and looked at her hands, fingers twisting around one another. The silence stretched and grew between them, and she felt the need to break it.
"I find you a little - distracting," she said softly, and looked up. He was watching her with a curious expression.
"Distracting," he echoed, and she shrugged uncomfortably.
"I mean, I like looking at you, and listening to you, and sometimes I get so caught up in doing that, that I don't take in a word you've said," she explained, getting cross at herself for her ridiculous schoolgirl crush. "Can you not be so - so…" She waved a hand up and down his form, and Gold looked puzzled.
"So what?" he asked, and Belle rolled her eyes.
"I have a bloody crush on you, okay?" she snapped. "Whenever you're talking about chemistry I'm thinking about what it might be like to have your hands on me and you kissing me and obviously I don't get anything done because I'm too busy thinking about what you might look like naked, and..." She clapped a hand to her mouth in horror, eyes wide with disbelief over what she had let slip.
A twitch of Gold's eyebrow was the only indication that what she had said had surprised him, but she supposed that for him that was the equivalent of a major reaction. The corners of his lips curved upwards briefly, and she looked at her hands again, her stomach churning with humiliation. A quick glance upwards showed that he was still watching her, but there was something different about his gaze, his eyes appearing darker, an intensity hanging in the air around him that had not previously been there. He steepled his fingers, watching her over the top of them, his elbows resting on the desk in front of him.
"What am I to do with you?" he mused, almost to himself. He was threading his long fingers together, in and out, a tiny, whispery noise of skin against skin, and Belle felt her heart thump, tension rising within her. Slowly, he pushed his chair back, placing his hands carefully on the desk and pushing himself to his feet with elaborate care. She felt her breathing quicken as he drew himself up to his full height, looking down at her.
"Stand up, Miss French," he said softly, and Belle bit her lip nervously, opening and closing her hands a couple of times, unsure what he was doing.
"Stand up, Miss French," he repeated, a little more sternly, and she got to her feet on legs that were a little unsteady. He walked slowly towards her, running his eyes up and down her body, taking in the neat, fitted white shirt, the short black skirt that flared out over her legs, the long socks that came up over her knees and hugged her pale, slender thighs. Belle kept her gaze on the floor, and started as he slipped a gentle finger under her chin, raising her head to face him. She blinked rapidly, the fire in his eyes almost too much for her to bear, but he simply smiled.
"Beautiful," he whispered, and his thumb stroked across the pink fullness of her lower lip, his fingers fanning out across her smooth cheek. Belle could smell cologne on his fingers, sandalwood and ambergris, a hint of tobacco and sweet musk. It made her belly clench with desire for him, for the touch of his hands on her body. She could feel her heart beating, a throbbing sensation that seemed to spread down through her body until it reached her groin, a strong, rhythmic pulse. Gold smiled, a thin, wicked little grin, as though he knew exactly what she was feeling.
"Would you like me to kiss you?" he asked, and Belle licked her lips nervously with the tip of her tongue. His eyes darted to and fro, following its quick sweep with the intensity of a raptor.
"Yes," she whispered, and shuddered with pleasure as he used his hands to cup her face. He bent his head a little, his hair brushing her cheeks, his lips pressing against hers. Belle's eyes fluttered closed, marvelling at the soft feel of his mouth, gasping as his tongue gently parted her lips. He tasted of tea and rich, bitter chocolate, along with something sweet that she couldn't define. Having his tongue in her mouth was delicious, and she let out a tiny moan as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down her body to pull her to him at the waist.
Belle let out a breath as she pressed against him. It was her first real kiss; sure, she had had a few lip-bumps with guys, but nothing serious. Nothing that made her feel like this. In all of her sixteen years, she had never felt such burning intensity from being touched by another. She could feel Gold's body through his shirt, so different to hers, the hard planes of his chest flattening her breasts. She could feel the uncomfortable press of his belt buckle against her belly, and beneath it… She gasped into his mouth, her eyes flying open as she realised what was pushing up against her. Gold let her pull away a little, his fingers loose on her hips.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his accent thick, his voice rough. Belle nodded, leaning in to kiss him again, before he could think, before he could decide that this wasn't a good idea. His mouth met hers hungrily, his saliva wetting her lips, making them slippery, making her want to slide her hands beneath that fine silk he wore and touch his bare skin. His hands moved slowly up her body, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, and Belle drew her breath in sharply as he cupped her, gently squeezing. He smiled against her, pulling back a little to kiss along her jaw and down her neck. Belle moaned, clutching at him as his tongue swirled over her pulse point, making her writhe and shiver, making her see stars.
"How is that?" he whispered, his voice a low growl that vibrated through her, sinking into her body and settling between her legs. "Is that enough, Belle?"
She shook her head furiously, her fingers threading through his soft hair, holding him there, her body undulating against him. He sank his teeth into her, rubbing his thumbs across her hardened nipples through the shirt. She whimpered, wanting more from him, wanting him to touch her where she was hot and liquid and twitching with need. His hands slid down her body, moving over her hips as he kissed and nipped his way up her neck to her ear, his teeth gently tugging at the soft lobe.
"Turn around," he breathed. "Put your hands on the desk."
Belle shivered at his words, moving slowly on the balls of her feet, presenting him with her back. She missed the feel of him against her, but then his hand swept her hair to the side and he was kissing the back of her neck, and she groaned from the sensations, shudders running through her body as she bent forwards, placing the flat of her hands on his desk. She could feel his hands sliding over her rear, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the floor at her feet. He let out a deep, rumbling groan at the sight of her, her small, pert rear and the white cotton panties she was wearing. The feel of his fingers on the skin of her thighs was intoxicating, and she gasped as he slid one around her hips, reaching down the front of her panties. She knew she was wet, had been so for some time, and he groaned at the feel of her, fingers sliding in between her slick folds. Belle let out a cry as he touched her, nails scratching at the surface of the desk as her hands clenched involuntarily.
"God, you feel good!" he whispered, and began rubbing her in slow circles, his other hand siding back up to cup her breast. Belle pushed back against his hand, rocking her pelvis, trying to reach that blissful state that was just out of reach. When he pulled back she almost yowled in annoyance, but he was gone only for a moment, fingertips hooking over the waistband of her panties and pulling them down. She felt them brush against her calves as they hit the floor, and she stepped out of them, hearing the clink of his belt, the muted harshness of his zipper being drawn down. Her heart was pounding, her cheeks flushed, and his hands slid over her hips, sliding around between her legs, brushing against her nether lips.
"Spread your legs, my sweet," he said softly, and she obeyed, biting her lip as he touched her, as he stepped closer, so that he was pressed up against her. The smooth wool of his suit pants was soft against the skin of her buttocks, the metal belt-buckle cold and hard until he moved it aside, and then she felt him, pressing in between her legs, rubbing along her wet folds.
"Oh!" she breathed, as one of his hands moved to hold himself, to rub his length against her. It felt different to his fingers, smooth and hard and hot, and she bucked her hips against him as he settled into a rhythm, hitting the tiny bud of her clit with every pass, making her moan and writhe and dig her nails into the polished wood of the desk. She could feel tension building in her body, her muscles tightening, her arms shaking with the effort of holding herself up, of keeping herself there while he thrust and slipped and slid against her, never entering her. Blood was pounding in her ears, the flush spreading from her face and down her neck, sweat beading on her forehead, her breath coming in pants. A moan was pulled from her as she neared release.
"That's it, Belle!" he whispered. "Let it come, sweetheart."
Light burst behind Belle's eyes as she came with a loud wail, her hips bucking against him, and she fell forwards onto the desk as her body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing through her. He had pulled back when she came, but she felt his fingers there again, dipping into her to feel her muscles twitch as she jerked. The feel of a part of him inside her was incredible, and she felt the loss as he withdrew them, stepping back from her and stroking her hair gently.
"Good girl," he said roughly, his accent thick. "Very good girl. Can you stand?"
She pushed herself upright on arms that wobbled, and turned to face him, her eyes heavy-lidded and sleepy, her cheeks burning. He bent to kiss her, his mouth soft against her swollen lips, and his hand reached down between her legs, gently stroking against her tender flesh and pulling another moan from her. Breaking the kiss, he lifted glistening fingers to his mouth, slipping them inside and tasting her creamy fluid with a low noise of enjoyment, his eyes closing momentarily. Belle watched him, trying to catch her breath, her heart still thumping hard in her chest. His tongue licked the last of her flavour from his hand, and then he was reaching for her, fingers sliding into her hair, spreading the scent of her pleasure. She could taste her arousal on his lips when he kissed her, finding it strange, but not entirely unpleasant. Nevertheless, she was relieved when he pulled back, his eyes running over her face.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, and she nodded.
"I think so," she confirmed. "That was – I've never felt anything like that before."
"Hmm." He brushed a curl of hair back from her face, his thumb sliding across her lower lip, pulling it down and gently slipping the thumb inside the soft wetness of her mouth. Belle ran her tongue over it, tasting her own salt and musk. Experimentally, she sucked on his thumb, and he growled in pleasure, pushing her back against the table so that she could feel the hard length of him pressed against her belly. He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her skin, the scent of him surrounding her.
"I want to fuck you, little Belle," he whispered. "I want to slide right up inside that sweet little cunt of yours and fuck you until you scream."
Belle shivered, the crudeness of his words shooting through her, making her abdomen clench and pull. She nodded, and a twisted smile lifted one corner of his mouth as he turned away from her and reached in the drawer of his desk. Belle closed her eyes, leaning heavily on the desk, listening to the rustle and squeak of plastic being torn. Dimly, she was aware of him putting on a condom, and then she felt him take her hand, pull her with him on her wobbly legs to his chair. He sat down, drawing her to him so that she straddled him, her long, pale legs sliding along his outer thighs, her breasts pushing against his chest. He reached between her legs once more, stroking her, spreading her juices, and she felt the hard, blunt head of him sliding through her folds. She bit her lip as he brushed over her clit, her eyes closing at the pleasure of it, and then he shifted slightly, pushing against the tender opening below.
She watched his face as he pushed slowly inside her, the way his eyes closed and his jaw clenched and tightened, the way a muscle twitched in his cheek and he let out a rumbling gasp as he slid all the way in. He felt incredible, stretching her, filling her, and she clung onto his shoulders, taking a few shallow, panting breaths as she adjusted to this new sensation.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, and she nodded, focusing on the knot of his tie. For some strange reason, the fact that he was fully dressed apart from where he was buried within her made her want to laugh. He slid a finger beneath her chin, gently raising her head.
"Look at me, Belle," he whispered, and she lifted her eyes, meeting his, staring into their dark depths. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her a little closer, and he began a slow, rhythmic rocking motion, still staring at her, his free hand cupping her cheek as he thrust in and out of her. Belle let her lips part, enjoying the feel of him moving inside her, of the way she gripped him tightly and the friction caused by her fluids and the dark curls of his hair rubbing up against her.
"That's good," she breathed, and he smiled, kissing her gently, his tongue sliding into her mouth, his hand sinking into her hair and pulling her closer as they rocked together.
Belle could feel the tension building in him, the same, strange tightening of the muscles that she had experienced, his body working itself up into a frenzy. His jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck straining as his movements quickened, and he reached down between them, to the wet heat where their bodies joined, his fingertip finding the hard pearl of her clit and rubbing circles around it. Belle moaned, increasing the pace of their movements, sensations building and growing within her until it felt as though she would burst. Her second climax made her want to weep, and she threw her head back with a cry as it broke through her, a wave of pleasure blinding her. Dimly, she was aware of his hand moving, of his grip tightening on her hips and rocking her faster and faster.
Gold came with a shout, and she felt him pulse inside her, his head rolling back, eyes closed, panting for breath. She had never seen him lose control before, and the sheer joy on his face when he opened his eyes and looked at her was riveting. He kissed her hungrily, hands cupping her face, tongue sweeping her mouth to catch every last taste of her, and she kissed him back as she felt him soften within her and slip from her body. His lips pulled at hers as he ended the kiss, and he relaxed back in the chair with a grunt of contentment. Belle let her head fall forwards onto his shoulder, and he slipped his arms around her as they rested for a moment.
"Are you alright?" he asked again, and she nodded, although it was a lie. The cold light of day was making itself felt, and she was starting to fret. She pulled out of his arms, sliding from his lap to look around for her underwear.
"I should go," she said, not looking at him. "I have class soon, and I didn't eat lunch yet." She pulled on her panties, zipped up her skirt and smoothed the front of her shirt as best she could. Her entire body seemed to be thrumming with pleasure and mixed emotions, and she brushed her hair out of her face with hands that shook.
"Belle." His voice was soft, a gentle caress that she had never heard before. She didn't want it. She didn't want to hear that this had been a bad idea, that he shouldn't have touched her, that it was a moment of weakness, that it would be best if they didn't speak of this again.
"I have to go," she muttered, and grabbed her books, pushing out of his office and making her way along the corridor on legs that threatened to collapse beneath her.
Gold fastened his pants with a sigh, running hands over his face, inhaling the sweetness of her scent. She had been utter heaven in his arms, their bodies fitting together perfectly, a wonderful closeness between them. Whatever he had done to make her bolt, he would have to undo. He had no intention of letting her think that any of this was her fault. The blame was his entirely; he had well and truly crossed every line, and he doubted there was enough penance in the world to redeem him.
A/N: please don't kill me.