Belle sighed into Hamish's kiss as she straddled him on his couch. He was an incredible kisser and she moaned her pleasure to him as his hands ran up and down her sides and back, making their way beneath her undershirt as she arched into his touch. But then he stilled completely and it took her a moment to remember why, which was ridiculous because it was the sole reason she had gone this long without allowing him to touch her the way they both wanted him to. But the mess that was her back was not going to be easy to explain.
She might as well get it all over with now, since he was now aware, so she moved off of him and pulled off her undershirt before turning to face away from him so he could see the scars on her back. She could hear him gasp slightly and she could understand why - she had seen in the mirror every day what he was seeing now.
When she had finally been returned to herself in Storybrooke and begun a proper relationship with Rumplestiltskin, her back had been one of the first parts of herself she looked at - to see if the scars had carried over from Fairytale Land. They had.
The lines from the whip were thinner, criss-crossing over her back, the welts left by the weights on the scourges were larger and rounder. The clerics that had done this to her had called her a demon's whore. Clerics who had known her since she was a child had called her terrible names and done horrific things to her simply because she dared to come home after being in the employ of a man they all feared.
Her father had been out hunting when she returned to her childhood home, and she had been surprised beyond belief when, instead of being welcomed, she was grabbed painfully and hauled up to one of the castle's highest towers. She had actually felt the magical barrier when they shoved her through the door, so it didn't surprise her that Rumple never came for her, no matter how much she screamed. And she had screamed.
They, there were three of them, all in brown cleric's robes, shackled her wrists above her head in manacles attached to the wall across from the door. They shackled her ankles with cuffs attached to the floor that pulled her legs apart. When one of the men came towards her with a knife she had shied away, but he had only cut her dress off of her, followed by her shift. Mortifying as that was it was better than cutting her skin.
On top of being embarrassed by her nakedness, Belle had been incredibly cold - none of the windows had coverings and the wind that high up was cold in any season. But she could have dealt with that. Then the real pain started. Belle still couldn't fathom the hatred of the men who abused her. They feared Rumplestiltskin so much that they were willing to take it out on her flesh, simply because she wouldn't be able to fight back. They brought out the whips and she could still remember the sharp stings falling on her skin. And then the scourges with the heavy thumps falling on her back followed by a burning sensation as the feel of the lashing took over. She had cried out through it all.
But the brand had been the worst. She had heard the door to the tower room burst open, but it was too late. The hot iron was pressed to the middle of her back and she had screamed at the heat and nearly passed out from the smell of burning flesh. She later learned that the brand had been in the shape of a spider - marking her as traitorous and treacherous as well as sinful. And then the metal had been ripped away from her and someone was struggling with the shackles and then she was in her father's arms, shaking and sobbing harder than she could ever remember crying in her life as he cradled her bleeding and burned body in his large arms, trying not to touch her back.
He had carried her back to her childhood room and tucked her into her bed. She still couldn't understand what had happened, but she was exhausted from the trauma and she fell asleep, believing herself to be safe once again within her Papa's protection.
She had been wrong. He'd had a bag packed for her and sent her away from him the next morning. He couldn't stand by and watch her be tortured, abused, she was his daughter after all. But she was tainted, he said, tainted by the monster she had chosen to go with. Chosen, as if this were all her fault. He couldn't have the evil that must now reside inside her among his people. She was no longer safe. She had to leave. And so she had. Only to soon after be remanded into Regina's custody.
It wasn't good when she was thankful for only being tortured for less than a day and then locked up rather than enduring more physical punishment. But Regina seemed to want her intact for something. And there wasn't much that Belle would thank the Dark Curse for, but the 28 years of only semi-awareness seemed to have allowed her mind to heal from the experience with the clerics. She still carried the pain of it with her, and she was wary of anything too hot being near her, but she knew from reading that she was a great deal better adjusted than she should have hoped to be.
She still had awful memories of abandonment and isolation from being in the ward under the Storybrooke hospital, but knowing those memories were largely false made them easier to deal with.
Rumplestiltskin had been near inconsolable with grief when he first saw the marks, horrified that he was to blame and convinced he should have been able to hear her even if someone had used magic to muffle the air around the tower from his powers. They had cried together, holding each other for the better part of a day and night, falling asleep twined together, exhausted.
"Belle." Hamish's whisper brought her back to the present. "What happened? Who did this to ye?" He was growling and Belle knew he would have gone after the men who did it in an instant if there was any hope of catching them. But there was no such hope and now she had to try to explain the scars to a man who knew nothing about even as much as the existence of the Enchanted Forest.
"It was - uh - a long time ago." She tried to think of a way to explain it. "You know I was married before. Well, I grew up in a very . . . religious and traditional society. My father was an important man. No one in the community approved of my husband, when I started seeing him - thought he was evil. I moved in with him for a while, but we had a fight and I left, went back home. Only . . . some of the other men there . . . they weren't too happy about it. Said I was tainted." She was glad she was facing away from Hamish, so he wouldn't see her tears, though she was sure he could hear them in her voice. "They wanted to . . . cleanse me, they said. The spider," she pointed to the middle of her back, "It's a brand. It was meant to - to seal in the evil so it wouldn't seep out."
"Yer father le' them di this ti ye?" Hamish sounded furious and his accent was even thicker than it normally was.
She shook her head. "He wasn't there. When he came back he pulled them off of me, brought me home."
"He shouldhae killed 'em fer touchin' ye."
Belle hung her head and shrugged her shoulders. "He didn't like seeing me hurt. But he didn't disagree. He sent me away the next day."
Hamish snarled as he leaped off of the sofa, pacing back and forth furiously. "I'll kill 'im meself then."
Belle turned to look at him and held her hands out to him. "Hamish. Hamish!" He stopped pacing to look at her. "Come back and sit down, please."
He returned to the sofa and she curled into his side. His arms wrapped around her and he held her tight. She could feel him trembling still.
"I'm alright now. They don't even hurt anymore."
He hissed as his arms tightened. "They shouldnae fuckin' be there at all. Ye've never hurt anyone. Of all people ye shouldnae ever ever be hurt. I sweat ti ye that ye'll never be hurt again. No' if I hae anything ti say about it. And if I ever come across yer da, I'll no' be responsible for the injuries he'll suffer."
She clutched him tighter. "I know you'll protect me, Hamish."
"Och, precious lass, I'll no' ever stop."
Belle moved back a bit so she could look into his face and press her forehead against his. He was crying. For her. Her heart wrenched that he felt strongly enough for her to cry over injuries she had sustained so very long ago and through no fault of his. She brought her hands up to cup his face and brush the few tears away. "Thank you." She brought her mouth to his softly.
What was meant to be a chaste kiss quickly turned more heated as he licked desperately at her lips, begging for entrance. When she granted it he groaned and indulged in invading her mouth for a moment before pulling back violently.
"Fuck! Sorry lass."
She shook her head. "It's good. Help me forget." She fused her mouth to his again and somehow managed to squirm out of the skirt and knickers she had been wearing and straddle his lap without disconnecting their lips. She proceeded to unhook her bra and fling it behind her before locking her arms around his neck and sinking further into the kiss.
He pulled away from her for a moment to pull his shirt over his head before hauling her back against him, her breasts now pressed against his chest. They both moaned at the skin-on-skin contact and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as possible.
It was her turn to pull back slightly so she could work on undoing his jeans and he groaned as she brushed against the stiffness of his cock. With only minimal fumbling they managed to divest him of his jeans and his boxers and then he was kissing her again as he reached into the drawer of the small table beside the sofa and pulled out a small foil packet. He opened it and slid the condom on quickly and then she was sinking onto him and they both groaned at the sensation.
It was quick, neither of them were going to last long as she rocked down onto him and he strained up into her, they were both high strung as it was. Hamish clutched her to him tightly as he all but devoured her mouth and Belle whimpered as she rocked down against him faster and harder. She yelped into his mouth as her body clenched hard around him with her orgasm and he followed quickly after her, groaning deeply.
He kissed her lightly as they both relaxed and when he slipped from her body he pulled the condom off and flung it into the bin. He continued to nuzzle at her neck and press kisses to her face as he lay properly on the couch, allowing her to drape herself over him, and covered them both with a blanket.
"I love you, Hamish Macbeth." she whispered as she kissed his chest and settled her head against him.
"Aye. And I love you Belle. I always will." They could talk about this new development in the morning. For now they were both emotionally exhausted. He felt her smile against his skin and he pressed his lips to her hair, hugging her to him as he let himself follow her into sleep.