Title : A Blanket for your thoughts

Rating : NC-17

Words : 2,827
Summary: Rumplestiltskin doesn't think of creating heating for his castle. Well, his new housekeeper Belle, has more than enough of it.

Prompt : Chilly castle. Frightened Belle. Comfort by thedarkonesdearie

Author's note : for the Rumbelle secret Santa event 2014

She really didn't liked the dark, the unseen shadows and the cold corridors. As a child she had often found herself staying awake all night, with a little burning candle close to her bed, to make her feel safe. Sometimes during those nights she would even try to fight the unseen monsters in the closets and the weird haunting spirits under her bed. As the years passed she learned that not everything was as terrifying as it seemed, sometimes it was even good not having the blinding lights of candles illuminating the room when one was having a headache or feeling tired; but right now as she was moving in the dark, with no way of knowing where she was walking to, and the obliterating cold of stone walls around her, were awakening those long buried fears to surface.

Her steps were heard upon the tiles of the floor. Quick and swift, she wasn't quite running yet, but as soon as she would reach the next room she'd feel better. She opened the door, without knocking.

"Rumplestiltskin !" her voice booming in the room. The dark one looked up from over his book, his glasses upon his angular nose reflecting the candle light. He sat up straight and put down the quill he had been holding. Slowly, he locked his amber eyes with hers, his brows furrowing in clear annoyance.

"Why are you shouting everyone awake, dearie ? I don't like to be disturbed." She took a few steps forward, bolding herself.

"There isn't anyone beside you and me in this castle, Rumplestiltskin," she said, putting her hands upon her hips, a scolding expression adorning her delicate features; "Do you never think of heating your castle with fireplaces, Rumplestiltskin ? One could die of cold in here."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest : "I beg your pardon ?" his amber eyes were slightly changing colours. She felt herself flushing slightly under his gaze. Rumplestiltskin stayed intimidating even if his posture showed he was quite at ease. She took a deep breath to give herself some courage :

"If my room isn't at least heated by fireplace in the upcoming hour, I am not cleaning a single inch of this castle again." The surprise on the dark one's face almost made her laugh, but she stayed composed as Rumplestiltskin took off his glasses and smirked mockingly.

"Do you even know how much power it requires to heat an entire castle miss Belle ?" He stood up and planted his feet in front of her, his gaze had changed to golden, she bit her lip, the dark one continued : "a great amount and…"

"I will have nothing of your excuses Rumplestiltskin," she broke him off, "I am freezing my toes off in my room, which makes me unable to sleep. So please, I require a fireplace." His gaze upon her made her shiver, "Or I'll sleep in your room, since you don't seem to require sleep at all." In a swift movement she turned herself around and walked away. She took the lit chandelier on a little stand next to the door and exited the room.

He blinked once, twice, his mouth almost gaped open in surprise; the meaning of her last sentence hitting him hard. He found himself unconsciously fidgeting with his fingers. What by the gods' names had she meant by that ? Sleeping ? In his bed ? His chest strangely ached at the thought. He had to shake his head. His thoughts not quite venturing there yet, just a lingering want buried deep inside of him. He clenched his fist, trying to even forget his mind went there, to that subject. That little housekeeper was quite loud and bold. In a way he liked it, her impertinence stirred excitement and wonder.

He sat down at his desk again, leaning toward his book while putting the glasses upon his nose. It was an ancient Norn book he had been trying to translate for a few days now. There was wondrous magic buried in the sheets of paper. Also a secret and a rumour of powerful creatures granting any wish in exchange of a price often too high to pay. He had been trying to grasp the language, sets of symbols made with straight lines and black ink. His ability at languages had helped him to translate the first two sentences already, the rest and numerous other pages were still unknown to him.

And thus his castle was too cold ?

Feeling startled he almost dropped his quill at the image of his housekeeper stopping his train of thoughts. He shook his head and narrowed his eyes as if to wave the image away. Why was he thinking of her ? Why now ? He'd get that girl a fireplace if she so freely desired it. Why was he still bothering his mind about the subject ? He groaned, shaking his head again, going back to his book.

She was pretty relieved when she arrived at the kitchen. It was lighter and brighter here. Also warmer because she had used the oven earlier today for making dinner. She still felt on edge, not sure if her boldness toward Rumplestiltskin would bring her ill fortune or improvements. She had difficulties to grasp the man. Sometimes he looked peaceful and caring, sometimes he was anger and frustration. He was difficult to understand and very unpredictable to converse with. But she seemed to do just fine. Spending an eternity together with him, at least until her death, didn't seem so burdensome to her anymore; she only had to remind him of manners used in current civilization. And that was already a very interesting task and a source of amusement on itself. A smile appeared upon her lips. Rumplestilskin was an adventure that made her forget how much she missed home and he was always open to her requests of changes. He seemed quite relaxed today, if not preoccupied with research. She shivered, remembering the change of colour in the amber eyes. She liked that look upon his face. He almost seemed human in those moments.

Belle approached the food storage. She had planned upon making bread; the recipe she had intended to use required the dough to rest for a whole night before being baked. It wouldn't take long to make. With determination and energy she put herself to work.

He was in his bedroom looking at the books he had shelved there. The translation had been completed. Now he needed to find indications and locations for sacred trees, Norns being known to be bound to them. He sighed annoyed upon closing the sixth book, it didn't contain a single mention of a location or reference to the creatures. Perhaps a break was in order, he'd been researching for almost two days in a row. Even the dark one needed to wind off from time to time. Perhaps going down to the living room and spin, would transport his mind to some renewed rest.

A humming voice prevented him from walking down the stairs. Unwillingly attracted by the sound he turned himself and went in the direction of the kitchen; drawn by the voice as a cat would be by the smell of food. He stopped in front of the door, concentrating his magic upon the wood. A reflection in a cloud of smoke appeared upon the oak; at the other side there was she, kneading a dough energetically. Her soft voice was making a melody of clear notes and vibrations; creating a song that captivated his senses, rocking his mind into wonder. Belle often sang, he'd cut off his hand before he'd ever tell her, but he liked it. He liked it so much. Her songs always reminded him of happier times and joyful memories. Those memories often contained Bae and the spinsters he grew up with. They always made him smile inside of him, even if it was only for a brief moment, he'd find himself feeling at peace.

He waved the cloud away, taking off in a direction that was even further away from the living room: Her room, still cold and dark. With a flick of his hand the wall bended to take the form of a fireplace, the wood appeared already burning; illuminating the room with soft light and crackling sounds. Another few changes and he went back to his room in a puff of purple smoke, satisfied by his work and burying inside of him the wonder if Belle would like the gift he had given her.

The dough was done, she happily placed it in a bowl at the corner of the table; placing a towel above it to let it rest. Her hands were washed in another bowl of water and dried on her apron. She loved being successful in what she made and the dough seemed to be just as it should be, hopefully it tasted as good as it looked. Maybe this time Rumplestiltskin would even try to eat a piece of it, since the man normally didn't require any sort of substance to survive.

She took the bowl of dirty water and emptied it in the sink. After the clean-up of several other surfaces she felt the exhaustion hitting her. A last glance at the now clean kitchen gave her the silent approval to leave the room. The chandelier in hand, she walked swiftly toward her room, wanting to meet her bed as soon as she could.

Upon arrival her eyes widened in surprise, a beautiful fireplace was in front of her bed now and a rug was adorning the floor, next to that there was an extra blanket placed upon the foot of her bed. She deposited the chandelier on the floor. The first thing she did was taking off her shoes. The feeling of the rug brushing the underside her feet; Rumplestiltskin had given her what she wanted and more. Laughter of happiness escaped her lips. She approached her bed. A gasp, she recognised the blanket from somewhere; it was something he had woven himself, she had seen him working on it. The golden thread made it seem luxurious and beautiful. She climbed upon her bed while taking the piece of fabric in hand. She whispered a quiet thank you before enveloping herself in what she would call a newfound source of warmth.

Rumplestiltskin bared his teeth upon seeing he was once again unsuccessful. Those bloody creatures were way too good at hiding themselves. He closed the book he was holding. An aching of anger came over him. Why was everything so difficult ? The door opened and he prevented himself from throwing the book toward the interrupter of his thoughts, knowing it could only be one specific person, he was glad he had retained himself from doing it.

"What is it dearie ? Isn't your blanket and fireplace enough ?" he snapped irritated by the intrusion. Belle peered from the doorway, making her way quickly inside. He narrowed his eyes. There was clearly something bothering his housekeeper. It was in the way she carried tension in her shoulders and body. But right now she seemed to relax as she put down the candle she'd been holding upon a table. He followed her with his eyes. She had his blanket around her shoulders, underneath: a white sleeping robe that was quite loose. His irritation shifting toward himself, suppressing the curiosity of whether or not she was wearing something else underneath that delicate piece of loose clothing.

"I came to thank you for your gifts Rumplestiltskin," She said as she turned herself toward him.

"What are you not saying dearie ?" he broke her off. She tensed, but she realised it was a tone of concern that had followed his question and not one of anger.

"Is it possible I stay here for the night ?" she dared, "I won't move or say a word, I promise. It's just…" she inhaled deeply : "I am a bit afraid of the dark."

She bit her lip and her blue pleading eyes made contact with his. He felt a shiver going through him; as a jolt of tension making itself a way to his heart. And for a brief moment, his pulse quickened. Her eyes boring a feeling of warmth to his soul. He almost found himself gasping for air.

"If you wish to stay," he broke his amber gaze from her as his voice croaked, he looked at the bookshelf trying to feel in control of himself again, "Then you may. But don't speak a word I am doing some important research."

Her smile almost made his heart explode, relief washed over her face and sparks of happiness appeared in her eyes. She approached his bed and with a swift movement she pushed the covers away. He couldn't help but observe how she tucked herself in, the blanket still around her shoulders. She was taking the side he usually took when he slept, even if that didn't happen often, the unconscious gesture made his heart race again.

"You know Rumplestilskin, you may disagree with me but you are a generous man," she sighed in relief as she buried her face in his pillow. "There are moments where I wonder what makes you look so sad sometimes."

He didn't reply, her words sinking into his being as a flame of hurt and remembrance licked his soul. He didn't say anything for a few moments, the silence closing the wound that had been opened again "I am no man," he whispered before he turned himself toward his bookshelf again.

"That's what you think, I tend to disagree" her sleepy voice made the hairs on his neck stand up. "Good night Rumplestiltskin," he heard her smile, "thank you for letting me stay." And she drifted away to a peaceful sleep.

It was her hand, her hand caressing his chest, setting him on fire. Her hand, her mouth, kissing him, his senses lost in the sensations of her body pressed against his. He crawled on top her, his hands in her hair cupping the base of her neck. He lapped at the given mouth, tasting her upon his tongue. She moaned against his lips, her blue eyes filled with lust and want. He rubbed himself against her thigh. The gasp that escaped her broke their kiss. He locked his gaze with hers. She trembled and shivered, silently begging to be kissed again as he rubbed his erection even more against her. His hands yanked her sleeping robe up. The wetness of her core and the musk smell of her folds pouring madness into his head. As his fingers circled her bundle of nerves, she dug her nails in his chest, a whimper escaping her lips. She breathed his name as she took him in hand. He growled in her neck as he massaged the base of her skull in his hand. She breathed his name again as her hand started to move upon him. First slow, then faster, harder. He groaned into her ears as the wet sounds of his fingers against her folds were mixing with her gasps. He felt her trembling underneath him, her body jolting in pleasure, her hand still moving upon him. His own liberation close. Her cries and movements against his hand transporting him into another whirlwind of pleasure. Her body tensed and he bit the flesh on the underside her ear, which made her body twitch in release. She screamed his name as she convulsed against him. He took himself in hand, one stroke was enough to push him over the edge, her voice moaning in approval.

He raised himself in horror, as if fire had burned his skin away. Next to him, she was sleeping. A restful smile upon her delicate features. Her body warm and the bed smelling of her hair. He felt himself almost wanting to throw up. His body only half-awake, yet bursting with adrenaline. He had to get out of this bed. He pushed the covers away and used his magic to transport himself toward the living room. He desperately walked toward his spinning wheel, his painful trapped erection almost making him wince in pain. As he sat down, trying to compose himself again, he briefly considered relieving the tension, but with a shudder he shook his head, disgusted by this urge. He inhaled and exhaled, calming down the panic. He glanced at his spinning wheel. Yes, spinning, spinning would help. He slowly put his hand upon the wheel and made it turn. He readjusted his sitting position and took the thread in another hand, trying to get lost in the familiar movement of his hand working the straw. Soon his mind drifted away, lost in the concentration of his working hands. Keeping the questions about the feelings he harboured for his housekeeper at bay.

The end