All I Need, an once upon a time fanfic

So, this is the first one-shot in the Tempted 'verse about rock star Gold and an older Belle. This is set in between chapters nine and ten of the original story. It takes place about two months after they get together.

Once Upon a Time is the property of Adam, Eddy, and ABC: I'm just borrowing the characters and making a few tweaks.

All I Need

They'd been dating just over two months before Belle was able to join Tristan on tour for the first time. She surprised him one night after the show. He came off stage and went to grab a towel to wipe off some of the sweat when he saw her.

'Hey,' she greeted.

By way of greeting, he grabbed her and kissed her hard, ignoring the catcalls from people around.

'Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?' he asked, smiling down at her. 'What a wonderful surprise.' He cupped her cheek tenderly. 'Missed you, babe.'

'I missed you too,' she told him.

'It's wonderful to see you.'

She smiled and kissed him again.

She spent the following week with him, experiencing his life on tour: all the travelling, the appearances, the interviews, the press, the rehearsals, the fans, and the shows. It was hectic: every minute was planned out, but she loved getting to experience his life on the road. As interesting as this week was for her, though, and as delighted as she was that praise and adulation met Tristan and the boys wherever they went, she was starting to worry that perhaps she didn't really fit in in his world.

Tristan himself had never made her feel that way, and neither had the boys or anyone involved in keeping everything running: to all of them, she was Tristan's girlfriend and she was free to go wherever she pleased back stage. People involved with the band were generally very nice: it was some of the fans that made her wonder if she really belonged.

Desperate Souls' music appealed to a large fan base, but Belle had always known that many of those fans were young women, and being with Tristan this week, she had seen that for herself. It was understandable: three handsome young men were bound to attract attention from young women, especially now that they were famous.

Belle had seen over the course of the week how these young women reacted to Tristan and the boys. She could feel the yearning adoration from them every time the boys performed, and there was almost a frenzy every time Tristan went anywhere near the fans gathered closest to the stage.

She knew Tristan would never have his head turned by those eager young fans: he'd never do that to her after what they'd gone through to be together, but no matter her faith in him, she couldn't silence the doubts about herself. Those girls were so much younger than her, so much more beautiful than her: one of them would look much better next to Tristan than she did. She loved him so much, but maybe she was holding him back. He could have so much more without her.

Gold wrapped his arm around Belle as they sat in the car on the way to the TV studio for yet another interview. It was routine at this stage: he even knew exactly what questions would be asked, so he didn't stress about them. Anyway, he was too worried about Belle to be stressed about the interview.

She'd been a little quiet these last few days. He wondered if his life on tour was a bit much for her. He was very busy: he didn't have as much time to be with her as he would have liked, but she had seemed to take it all in her stride. Perhaps she just hadn't wanted him to worry, but he was. There was something going on with her: she was unhappy about something, and he needed to know what it was so he could make it go away.

'Hey,' he whispered, smiling at her when she looked up at him: 'you ok?'

She nodded. 'I just wish I didn't have to leave tomorrow.'

So that was what it was. Well, that was a relief! He'd thought it was something about them.

'I'll be home in a little over a week,' he told her.

'I know,' she said, rubbing his chest: 'it's just that I miss you when you're gone. Now that we're finally together, I hate being apart.'

He smiled. 'I do too, babe: you've no idea how much I wish I was with you when I have to climb into an empty bed.'

She smiled. 'Me too. I don't sleep well without you.'

He smirked. 'You hardly sleep with me.'

She laughed. 'How did I know you were going to say that? Seriously though, I sleep better when you're holding me.'

'Me too,' he said. 'I love you, you know.'

She smiled again. 'I love you back.'

The interview was being filmed in front of an audience. The programme catered to young music lovers, so the audience was mostly in their late teens and twenties, and most of them were young women, Belle noticed. Suddenly she had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

'Belle, are you ok?' Ruby asked.

She smiled weakly. 'I suppose I just feel a bit intimidated by all those beautiful women,' she confided, nodding towards the crowd.

Ruby looked down at her. 'Oh, honey, you don't have anything to worry about,' she said confidently: 'Tristan never gives any of them a second look.'

Belle smiled. Ruby went with Victor every time the boys went on tour, so she ought to know. That did make Belle feel a little better, but still, her worry had never been about Tristan straying, but about her belonging.

'Thanks, Ruby,' she said now, and settled in to watch her boyfriend perform.

Part of the interview was a Q&A with fans. They got some good questions from it, but then some girl in the second row spoke.

'Tristan, isn't your girlfriend a lot older than you?' she asked.

The atmosphere changed instantly, partly because it had been made clear that asking anything that wasn't about the band or the music or the boys themselves would not be welcomed, and partly because the tone of the question had been rather combative.

Gold's hackles rose. He was tired of this, tired of people bringing up the fact that Belle was older than him, and what made it worse was the fact that she was here today and had undoubtedly heard that.

'Why don't we—' the interviewer began, but he cut her off.

'Why does that matter?' he asked the girl who'd asked the question. 'Why does it matter when I love her and she loves me?' The girl didn't answer and he shook his head. 'The answer is it doesn't.'

There was silence for a moment as everyone felt the awkwardness.

'Perhaps you could tell us how you three met,' the interviewer suggested, maintaining her professionalism and moving on.

'In a bar in London,' Victor said, and the tension eased as he told the story.

Belle looked into the mirror and sighed. She couldn't get that girl's question out of her mind. Did he get asked that a lot? She didn't like that people focused on the disparity in their ages instead of on his music. It wasn't right, and she knew damn well that if their ages were reversed, it wouldn't be such a big deal. It made her angry and sad by turns. She knew it now: being with her was holding him back, it was a distraction from what was really important. She had never wanted to hold him back, and she was: that wasn't good.

She needed to think, to figure this out. It would be best if she went home tonight and just had some time to work everything out. She couldn't bear the thought that he had to deal with this, with people talking about them instead of the music. It wasn't right, wasn't fair to him.

The door opened and some women came in. They were on the other side of the bank of mirrors, so Belle couldn't see them and they couldn't see her, but she recognised one of the voices.

'She's like twice his age,' the woman who'd asked that question said disdainfully.

'Well, he doesn't seem to mind,' another woman said, 'and she doesn't look twice his age.'

'She's like in her forties or something,' a third woman said.

'She looks a lot younger,' the second woman said, and Belle silently thanked her for that, though how old she looked shouldn't be coming up in connection with Tristan and his music at all.

'Well, I think it's weird,' the first woman said. 'What is she, some sort of desperate gold digger? Some crazy lady trying to hold onto her youth? She should just let him go and find someone her own age. Cougars like her give all women a bad name.'

Cougar. Belle loathed that term for older women who dated younger men. Far from being empowering, it made her sound like some kind of vicious predator and Tristan her prey, when their relationship wasn't like that at all. There was more equality and love and affection between them that existed between a lot of couples, and that girl calling her a cougar made their relationship sound sordid when it was beautiful.

'I bet I could make him forget all about her,' the girl said confidently now. 'He's gotta need more than she can give him.'

Belle stared at her reflection. Maybe that girl was right: maybe Tristan did need more than she could give him. She couldn't be with him all the time: it wasn't fair to expect him not to want someone during the nights he was on tour. She loved him so much, but how could she be enough? It would be easier for him if he could be free to find a beautiful young singer or model or movie star who would look good alongside him in a way she never would. If she loved him, maybe it was better to let him go. She couldn't bear the thought that she was holding him back, keeping him from reaching his full potential in every way.

He knew there was something wrong. They were at the venue for the show that night and Belle was quiet again, and she looked a little like she had that night they'd kissed for the first time and she ran away. Was she upset by that stupid question?

'Hey, what is it?' he asked, grabbing her hand.

'It's nothing,' she said, smiling faintly and pulling away.

But he wasn't letting her run this time: he grabbed her hand again and she looked up at him, startled.

'No: I know there's something wrong and I'm not letting you go until you tell me what it is.'

'Tristan, let me go. I'm just a little tired.' But she couldn't look at him as she said it, and she knew he knew she was lying.

'Something's been bothering you for the past few days,' he said. 'When you said you didn't want to have to leave tomorrow, I thought it was that, but it's not, is it? Tell me, Belle. Is it that girl from earlier or something else?'

She turned and stepped into his arms. He wrapped them around her immediately.

'I love you,' she whispered.

'I love you too,' he murmured, stroking her hair. 'Tell me what's upsetting you. I don't want you unhappy, Belle.'

'It's not my happiness I care about,' she told him: 'it's yours.'

'What are you talking about, Belle?' He pulled back and stared down at her.

She looked up at him. 'I've been wondering if this is really the right thing, you and me being together.'

He froze, panic beginning to set in. 'Belle…what are you talking about?'

'People ask you about me, don't they?' she asked: 'people like that girl today. I overheard her in the bathroom: she thinks us being together is weird.'

'I don't care what she thinks, Belle,' he said, tightening his hold on her: 'I don't care what anyone thinks of us. Do you really think that bothers me?'

'I just don't want to hold you back,' she said quietly, worriedly.

He frowned. 'Hold me back? What are you talking about, Belle? Where on earth is this coming from?'

'They should be talking about your music, love, not asking you about me. You know that if you were older and I were younger, no one would say anything: no one would find it odd. I don't want us to be a distraction from your wonderful music. And I know you don't care what people think of us, but I see so many beautiful girls who come to your shows who would look so much better next to you than I do and I wonder if I'm holding you back. I wonder if it would be better for you if—'

'Stop,' he growled: 'stop talking right now.' He cupped her face in his hands. 'Belle, I thought we'd been over all this. I don't want some young girl to wear like an ornament on my arm because people think we look good together: I thought you knew that I don't care about the age difference.'

'I do know that: I just—'

'Then I'm sorry, but I don't understand what the problem is. If we love each other, then what does anything else matter?' He was really perplexed.

She stared at him. 'It's because I love you that, if you'd be better off without me, I would let you go.'

Tears trickled down her cheeks as he stared at her. He knew she meant that: he could see it in her eyes. It would break her heart, but she'd do it for him. The question he had was why she felt there was a chance he would be better off without her.

Ok, so she didn't want them to be a distraction from people focusing on his music, there was a way to avoid that. He'd simply stipulate that there were to be no questions about his private life in future and have people at Q&As submit their questions in advance so he could moderate them: that would fix that problem, but something told him this was about more than other people's reactions to them and them being a distraction from his music. How on earth could she think he'd be better off without her?

'You think you're not enough for me,' he said, stunned, suddenly realising what was really wrong. 'That's what this is about, isn't it?'

Her lips trembled. 'Sometimes I wonder what you see in me,' she admitted, 'and I see all these beautiful girls and I think maybe there's someone better for you than me.'

'Babe,' he whispered, pulling her closer. She was insecure. She'd been through so much with her ex that it was going to take longer than two months for her to accept that this wasn't just going to end, that he wasn't just going to leave or find someone else. He was going to spend the rest of his life with her: he just had to convince her of that.

'Ok, come with me,' he murmured, wrapping his arm around her waist and walking her down the hall.

'Where are we going?'

'We are going to have a little time to ourselves,' he told her. He pushed open the door to his dressing room, led her in, and then locked the door behind them.

'Don't you have to do sound check?' she asked.

'The boys will do it without me,' he said. 'Right now, this is where I need to be.'

Belle's heart thumped as he looked down at her, desire in his eyes.

'I want you,' he breathed, beginning to peel off her clothes, kissing her at the same time.

She hummed, her body tingling. He always made her feel this way, always made her feel wanted and loved.

'I always want you, Belle,' he said now. 'When we're apart, I dream about you, about being with you.' He kissed her again. 'If I had to make a choice between all of this and you, I'd choose you in a heartbeat, Belle, any time. You have to know how important you are to me. I'm going to do everything I can to show you. I'll happily spend every day of my life showing you, babe.'

He kissed her again, hungry, desperate kisses that had them both gasping, their hot breaths mingling. She trembled when she saw that he had his eyes open, watching her, his eyes deep, dark pools of want.

'God,' she gasped, when he broke away to kiss down her neck. His hands were caressing her now, sliding sensuously over her body in all the places he knew she loved to be touched.

'Tristan,' she sighed out as he pulled her closer.

'You think you're not enough for me, but you are, babe: you're everything to me, and I'm going to show you that I don't need or want anyone else.'

He had removed her coat, her blouse, and her bra, and then he pulled down the zip on her skirt and peeled off her stockings and panties together, kneeling down to help her out of them.

'So beautiful,' he murmured reverently, looking her up and down. 'You really think any of those girls is more beautiful than you? You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life, babe. Every woman I see, I compare to you, and no woman can hold a candle to my beautiful Belle.

'The night I met you, I knew that: I knew I'd found what I wanted, and now I have you. Why would I want anyone else? I've got my dream woman, my perfect Belle.' He ran his hand down between her breasts and swept it around to hold her by the waist, his thumb caressing the underside of her breast. He brought his other hand up to do the same, smiling when she shuddered and leaned into him.

'I know you get insecure,' he said now: 'I know that bastard really did a number on your confidence, but you're a smart, beautiful, sexy woman, Belle, and if you ever feel insecure again, I want you to tell me, so I can chase all those doubts away. Promise you'll do that?'

'I promise,' she breathed, looking down at him on his knees before her: 'I promise, Tristan.'

He really was wonderful. He seemed to understand that all of these negative feelings had been left over from Greg and that it might take a little time for her to be over them completely.

'I'm sorry,' she said now. 'You've been nothing but patient with me and I know you love me. I suppose I sometimes still let the voice of Greg's wife get to me. I don't mean to, but I suppose she's harder to shake than I thought.'

He nodded. 'Don't apologise, babe: I understand. I get how he made you feel, and I get that it's going to take time for you to let go of that. We've only been together two months: I know that's not enough time to get over what he did to you.'

He stood up now and cradled her face in his hands. 'But if there's anything, anything I can do to make you feel good, babe, just tell me and I'll do it. All I want is to make you happy.'

'You do,' she told him. 'Tristan, you make me so happy. I never dreamed happiness like this existed.'

'Neither did I,' he agreed, and he kissed her sensuously.

He was an incredible kisser: she always turned into a puddle of mush at his kisses and this time was no exception. He knew exactly how to touch her too, his hands stroking and caressing all the places that stimulated her. There was a spot at the back of her thigh, just below her arse, that, when he stroked it just right made her tremble and pant, and him smile, pleased with himself.

Her whole body quivering, Belle just clung to him and gave herself up to the pleasure he made her feel. He'd been so intent on learning what she liked, on pleasing her. He'd told her that she deserved to be worshipped, and that was certainly what he did: everything he did was intended to bring her pleasure. Unlike other men, his first priority was her satisfaction, and satisfying her satisfied him.

He wouldn't worship her like this if she wasn't important to him: he wouldn't take the time to show her how much he desired her if he didn't. She really did make him happy: she really did satisfy him. She knew she did by the way he'd react to her, the way he'd growl and pull her closer whenever she did something he liked, the way he looked at her, the way he was always so happy to be with her. She knew he wanted her, knew deep down that she was enough for him, and she resolved to stop letting what other people thought get to her. He wanted her: she made him happy, and that was all she needed to know. Nothing else mattered: no one else's opinion mattered. He was hers and she wasn't going to give him up.

Gold hummed approvingly when she pulled his t-shirt up and he raised his arms, pulling his mouth away from hers long enough to let her pull it off him. He was leaning in to kiss her again, but she evaded him and started dropping wet little kisses across his chest, her hands stroking him.

For a moment, he just let her have her way, the feel of her mouth and tongue, and her hands caressing him, like heaven, but then he remembered why they were here: because she was feeling insecure, and he caught her arms, holding her away from him.

'I thought I'd take a shower before the show,' he said: 'feel like joining me?'

She smiled and nodded, helping him out of the rest of his clothes.

'Give me your hand,' he said, once he was completely naked, and she did, catching her breath as he wrapped it around his length, which jolted at her touch.

'Feel that?' he asked, voice breathy. She nodded. 'Nobody else does this to me but you, babe,' he told her, leaning in, his breath hot against her lips, as he came close enough to kiss. 'You are all I want, all I need, my perfect, exquisite, beautiful Belle.'

She surged up, kissing him, and he hissed as she squeezed him gently.

'Shower: now,' he growled, pushing her backwards.

He led her into the small bathroom and turned on the shower. He drew her into his arms then, kissing her, and then she followed him into the shower stall, mouth watering at the way the water was running in rivulets down his body.

God, he was gorgeous, so sexy, and she could hardly believe he was hers as he ducked his head under the water and brought his hands up to smooth it back off his face. She smiled at the thought that, out of all the women he could have here, she was the one he'd chosen. This must be a fantasy of so many women who came to his shows, to be picked from the crowd and brought back to his dressing room, and she was living it.

He smiled at her and she threw her arms around his neck, rising up on her toes to kiss him. She ran her hands over his wet body with relish. He was hers, hers and no one else's.

He stared into her lust-filled eyes. He could get lost forever in those pools of blue and he loved the fire he saw burning in them now.

'Goddess,' he whispered.

She smiled and kissed him fervently.

'Rock god,' she breathed against his lips, smiling as he smiled. 'Every girl who comes to your shows wants this, you know, wants you to take her back to your dressing room and have your way with her.'

'Only one girl I'm interested in, babe,' he told her, his hands sliding over her arse.

'And who might that be?' she asked, arching her back and gasping as his hands caressed her.

He smiled. 'She's got brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, and an accent you wouldn't soon forget. Her name's Belle.'

She smiled, satisfied. 'Good to know.'

'It's true, you know,' he said quietly: 'I don't see any other woman but you.'

She smiled again. 'I know. I realised I need to trust in you and me and not pay attention to what anyone else says about us. Those girls in the crowd might want you, but they don't know you like I do. They see a hot, young rock star, but I see more than that: I see my friend, my confidant, my lover, the man who picked my heart up off the floor and helped me put it back together. I see the man I love more than anything in the world. That's why I'm here with you and they're not. You see that I see that: you see that I'm different from them, that I see all of you, and that's why you love me, why you want me.'

He smiled at her and nodded. 'So, does that mean I'm not going to hear any more talk about letting me go because it's better for me?' he asked.

She nodded. 'You're mine,' she said, 'and I won't give you up.'

She held her breath at the way his eyes darkened when she said that. They did that whenever she was very forthright, and she'd come to understand that he absolutely loved that part of her.

'Say that again,' he commanded, leaning in close, his hands squeezing her arse.

She fought for breath. She had to get control of her voice to say what he wanted to hear. He wanted her strong: he wanted her powerful, wanted her to know her own mind and speak it, and, God, she adored him for that.

Cupping his cheeks, she looked into his eyes.

'You are mine, and I will not give you up,' she told him determinedly.

'That's my Belle,' he breathed, and kissed her soundly.

He picked her up then, pushing her against the shower wall. She smiled, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

He adjusted his hold so he could line them up, and she gasped as she felt the head of him against her entrance. She rolled her hips to bring him in deeper, and he was finally sheathed inside her.

He let her adjust to the sensation for a moment and then he began to move, every thrust of his hips pushing her against the wall.

Belle tried to find something to hold on to that would allow her to meet his thrusts more effectively. She wanted to make it as good for him as he was making it for her and she grabbed the top of the shower stall, using that to get more purchase so she could lift up and slide down to meet him.

'Fuck!' he panted, burying his face against her neck as his hips moved.

'So good,' Belle sighed, kissing his hair.

She twisted her hips then and Gold squeezed her arse and drove back into her hard.

'Ahh!' she cried out, feeling herself start to shake. 'Oh, that's it, Tristan: more, please.'

They'd never done it this rough before, but if she wanted it, he wouldn't deny her.

'Harder?' he asked.

'Yes!'

'Say it,' he commanded.

She shuddered in his arms.

'Harder, Tristan: fuck me harder, please!'

Growling, he gave her what she wanted. She spoke like that only rarely. He swore all the time, but Belle only did it when she was really desperate during sex. Hearing it now, he knew she really wanted her release, and he was happy to provide it.

'Is this what you want?' he whispered, moving at a frantic and bruising pace now.

'Yes!' she cried, head falling back and breath coming in pants.

'How does it feel, hmm, knowing that you're the only one who gets to do this with me? I know what those girls want: I can see it in their eyes, but you're the one I'm thinking of. The moment I leave, I can hardly wait to get home again, to you, to this. My goddess, my perfect Belle.'

She whimpered, face flushed, eyes glazed over. She was moving so desperately against him, not caring that they were in a dressing room, doing it in the shower. She was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his life, and she was his.

'God, I can't hold on,' he panted, losing control of his thrusts. 'It's never been so good as it is with you.'

'With you too,' she agreed, panting in his ear. 'Never felt so alive. Mmph, so close… Come with me,' she pleaded.

'Already there, babe,' he growled, unable to stop it now.

Neither could she and they came together, clinging to each other, bodies heaving and jerking, breaths hot and heavy.

'Oh, yes,' Belle sighed out after a long moment, completely sated: 'that was just what I needed.'

He raised his head from her shoulder and smiled drowsily at her.

'Mmm: me too. I'm actually not sure I'll be able to move for a while.'

She smiled. 'Have I worn you out?'

He chuckled. 'Oh, in the best way. I meant what I said, you know: it's never been like this with anyone else.'

She stroked his cheek. 'For me either. I love you.' And she leaned down to kiss him.

As he was kissing her back, pouring all his love and devotion into it, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she need never worry that she was holding him back or that some younger woman could give him anything more than she could. She loved him more than anything and he loved her the same way. She knew from the way he responded to her that she was the only one he wanted. Desire and emotion like this simply couldn't be faked. He was hers as surely as she was his, and she wouldn't let what anyone thought get to her again.

And there we go. Hope you liked that :) the next Tempted one shot will be a Christmas story: Gold takes Belle home to meet his mothers for Christmas. Thanks for reading :)