The Spinner looked over at his wife. Milah was beautiful, to be sure, but the way she looked at him made him nauseous.
"Well? Are you going to go and get the gowns for me?"
He smiled for a moment, and nodded.
"Of course, Milah."
"After all. Cowardly men aren't good for much else."
"Milah I-"
"Just do it Rumplestiltskin."
He sighed, and walked out the door. As he walked down the dirt path, he thought about the marriage. Milah hadn't really wanted to marry him, to be sure, but to be the wife of a spinner was about her only option at her station. She had been reaching the age where she'd be an old maid when they were wed. She reminded him every single day of how unlucky she was to have to marry the village coward. She held their child, but didn't care about the boy. She was miserable, though not as miserable as her husband. Rumplestiltskin pondered this as he went along the road. He was lonely, he was without love. He was hated by his wife, she abused him with her words day by day. He was weary of her cruelties. Taking the last few steps to the dressmaker's shop, he pulled a flask from a pouch at his side, and downed it. He would need alcohol for this. His left fist knocked against the door three times.
"Who is it?"
"Rumplestiltskin," he said, his head swimming from the liquor. The door opened to reveal the seamstress- a beautiful young woman, only twenty two, with bright blue eyes that lit up as she saw him.
"What brings you to my shop at such a late hour?" she asked, smiling at him.
"My wife's gowns."
"Would you come inside for a moment?"
Rumplestiltskin stepped inside, and sat down on the bed. The girl brought the gowns over to him, and sat beside him.
"There, the whole order filled."
"And ah…what about something for me?"
The girl smirked a little out of the side of her mouth, not the cruel smirks Milah gave, but a teasing smirk that made him want to blush.
"Oh, what can I do for you, Mister Spinner?"
He smiled, the alcohol erasing his conscience as it always did.
"I think you know, my dear Belle."
He pulled her to him, pressing his lips against hers eagerly. She whimpered gently, as their lips and tongues tangled in a passionate kiss. Rumplestiltskin made quick work of her blouse, pulling it over her head and releasing her tender breasts to his view. His hands went gently over the swells, teasing the nipples between his fingers. He moved his head down and took her into his mouth, his tongue running over the nipple and sucking, her whimpers soft as her hands played in his hair.
"Oh…oh Rumple…"
She's the only one who calls him that, the only one who gives him anything resembling love. He pushes his lips against hers once more, pressing her into the bed. Her skirt is gone, and the goddess is revealed before him, her body pale and soft, and he pulls his own garments off. He wants her, here, now, and she wants him. He kisses her again, this time his body pressing against hers, skin to skin. She spreads her legs, and he guides himself into her. She lets out a gentle moan as he fills her, and moves beneath him eagerly. He pulls out and thrusts back in, the rocking motion moving both to ecstasy, her moans filling the small house, and his own grunts quietly in sync. Her nails dig into his back, and he goes to suckle her throat. It's right now, that he forgets everything else, his wife, his home, his cowardliness. He groans and spills himself into her, as she cries out once more. He collapses on top of her, just taking in the feeling of a woman who isn't ashamed to have him.
"Gods, Belle. You are wonderful," he whispers.
"Thank you, Rumple…"
He pulls out from her, and puts his clothes back on.
"Ah…you'll need your wife's gowns…" she says, quietly. He nods, remembering the home he has to return to.
"I'll be back next week, Belle," he murmurs as he takes the gowns from her.
He makes the long walk back to the life which makes him hate himself.