Bestiality
By: 1000th Ghost
That first night, she had slept in the guest room. She had opened the door, given him nothing but a smile, gone inside, and that was the end of it, apparently.
It was terribly maddening.
He hadn't exactly expected her to sleep in his bed that night...well, no, truth be told, in the many, many times he had envisioned that "Huzzah! She was in fact alive and back and with him!" they promptly tore off each others' clothes, attacked every inch of each others' bodies with their lips, and she would... Well, this was his fantasy, so she would never, ever leave his bed, and they would never, ever do another activity. And since he had lived with only a fantasy of her for so very, very long, his demented brain reasoned that this was the logical thing that should have happened.
But as he lay in his own bed - his depressingly Belle-less bed - it dawned on him that his fantasy was not logical at all because this was not a harlot or a whore or even really a woman. This was Belle, and she could not satisfy his hunger because she was not aware of the concept of hungers that needed satisfying.
Oh, dear.
He was particularly kind to her the next day. He would have been anyway, of course - this was his Belle, and she deserved nothing but the upmost kindness after the way he had treated her in his fairytale world castle and after her seemingly endless imprisonment in the asylum. She flitted around smiling prettily up at him with those big, blue, and he had never realized before just how innocent eyes and stepped right into her old role as his housekeeper. He readily let her (the place did need a good dusting), and when he offered (partially jokingly) to cook her something, she laughed gaily and wrinkled her nose at him and said thank you but would he stop being such a silly.
So she made him his meals and tidied up his knickknacks and folded his clothes, and, blast it, had nothing changed? Yes, one thing had changed, and that was that she said, "I love you," at least a dozen times before lunch. And each time she said it, it sent a thrill rushing through him, but that thrill settled in his loins, and it would discourage him all over again.
It wasn't as if his love for her rested on it. Certainly not; his love for her was, as she had put it, layered, and he had thoroughly analyzed every one of those layers during the time she had been missing. But one of those layers was that he wanted to hear her scream his name as she trembled beneath him, and something had to be done about it.
She was bending over to adjust something or another (he could care less what when her rear end was presented so nicely to his gaze), but she straightened up and turned around when she heard the telltale thump of his cane on the floor.
"Hey." He smiled.
She smiled back. "Hello. I love you."
He had to close his eyes for half a second. He briefly wondered if those three words from those lips directed at him would ever stop having this momentous effect.
"And I love you, Belle." There was a good, healthy distance between them, and he dared to ask the first question. "Have you ever loved anyone but me?"
"Well, no." She shrugged. "I was supposed to love Gaston, I guess, but I didn't. There was no one else but you."
He had expected as much. "Did you and Gaston ever..." No, no, there must be a better way to put this. "Have you ever been...intimate...physically intimate...with anyone?"
"Oh, of course!"
His eyes nearly doubled in size. He had not expected that.
"I kissed you at your spinning wheel to break the curse, and we kissed in the woods by the well!" She blushed, she actually blushed, from just two kisses!
And when he thought back to the kiss they had shared in the forest yesterday, he recalled something that had escaped him when it had actually occurred thanks to the insistent distraction between his legs. It had been a passionate kiss, yes, full of desire, but then it had just ended, and she had smiled and curled her head against his chest like a child.
Because that was all she knew. Kissing. Everyone knew about kissing - it was the happily ever after that concluded storybooks. To her, that was the extent of it. A kiss meant completion and happiness and love and all that could ever come of desire.
How would she know of anything else? In the fairytale world, a girl of her stature wouldn't have learnt anything until her wedding night, and in this world, when a bombardment of scandalous television programs and lewd song lyrics would have informed her whether she wanted them to or not, she had been completely cut off from humanity in a dark cell.
"You know, sweetheart, there are other ways to physically express love than just kissing." He put emphasis on the "just", hoping to give her a hint that kissing was the very beginning of a long list of things to try.
Instead, she said, "Then why on earth were you so worked up about me kissing you at your spinning wheel?! If true love's kiss broke the curse, and you didn't want the curse to be broken, why didn't you just do something else?"
Heaven help him. He could write a book titled "What I Should Have Done", and what she just suggested would be chapter one.
"Because-" He shifted his weight and leaned against his cane. "-these other things are more-" The distance between them was a bit on the obnoxious side, wasn't it? He took a few steps toward her, and her eyes widened, and it was as if the air around them had changed.
"M-more?"
Well, it was an adequate word.
"More, Belle. They're more."
She stared at him warily and took a step back.
"No need to be scared, darling." Was there need to be scared? He was Rumplestiltskin. He was a monster. He was a Beast.
But he loved her more than life itself, and, no, she did not need to be scared.
"I-I would like to...demonstrate...enlighten you...can I show you? Only-only if you want me to."
"Okay."
There was such trust in her smile that it nearly broke his heart.
"Okay." It came out as a relieved sigh. "I'm glad."
He finally closed the distance between them, took her hand, and began to lead her out of the room.
"Where are we going?" she asked with the same curiosity she approached everything with.
"My bedroom," he replied, and it took him aback how thick his voice sounded. Dear, sweet Belle; did she know what she had gotten herself into?
"Oh, we can't just do it in the parlor?"
He smirked, a not-so-very-decent scene flashing into his head, and she asked no more questions until they were standing next to his bed, and his hands started unbuttoning the back of her blue dress.
Then she spun around and demanded, "What are you doing?!"
He blinked. "Taking your clothes off." Well, that didn't sound crass at all. He mentally slapped himself.
She gasped, appalled, and brought her hands protectively to her throat. "D-don't be ridiculous! I'm-" She paused. "I'm a princess!"
"It's alright-" his arms outstretched to try again.
"No, no, it is not 'alright', it is not at all proper or appropriate or..."
He decided to try a different approach. "Do you want to see me with my clothes off?"
Well, that left her absolutely speechless. She turned several shades of red and then muttered something unintelligible that sounded vaguely in the affirmative.
"It's good for you to want to. I want you to want to." His voice was sounding dangerously like Rumplestiltskin. "I want you to want me."
"I...it's just that...I love you - all of you - so much, so I want to see all of you. Does that make sense?"
"Yes, Belle, that makes perfect sense." He raised his hands cautiously, and when she made no move to stop them, grasped her hands and put them back by her sides. "And that's exactly how I feel too."
"Oh." She considered this for only a moment before turning around and even moving her hair out of the way for him.
His breath hitched as his fingers undid button, button, button, and then they were halfway down her back, and there was no bra strap, she wasn't wearing a bra, well, how could she?, she knew nothing but corsets and petticoats, she wasn't wearing a bra, and he slid the dress off her shoulders, and she wasn't wearing panties either, and bless this little angel and her lack of modern knowledge!
She turned to face him, and he subconsciously moved closer to her, and the Beast wanted to take over and throw her on the bed and claim her.
But he simply murmured, "You're beautiful," and touched only her hand.
She looked uncomfortable, and he wished that she could see herself through his eyes, how absolutely flawless and lifesaving and scrumptious she was. But she wasn't going to do that, he knew, and the best thing to do was to make her unable to think about anything but him and what he was capable of.
He gestured to the bed, and when she didn't move, he spoke, "Won't you lay down?" and she hopped up on the bed, looking for all the world like when she used to hop up and sit on his table. He wondered if her breasts had bounced so delightfully during the motion then. He had been too preoccupied with convincing himself that he didn't love her to notice.
Suddenly overcome with just how stupid he had been and how much time had already been wasted, he reached out and cupped her right breast. Her eyes snapped to his, but she didn't rebuke him. She didn't do anything, really, and he felt that she was at a great disadvantage. Here his heart was threatening to explode out of his chest, never mind what his cock wanted to do, and she didn't even have the foggiest idea what she was missing.
"Lie back," he told her gruffly, and she positioned herself prettily amongst the pillows.
His hand went back to her breast, and she looked curious more than anything else, and then his thumb brushed against her nipple, erect from the cold, and she jolted as though she had been minorly electrocuted. He repeated the ministration, and he lowered his head and brought his lips to her other nipple.
Her breath came in short, little gasps, and he wanted to tell her that it was okay, she didn't have to fight it, but he didn't dare take his mouth from her.
"Oh! Rumple," she finally cried, and her hips bucked involuntarily against him, and he brought his free hand to her core, and she flat out moaned.
He didn't know if she would approve of using magic, but then again, she didn't know what any of this was, and he wanted her to experience as much pleasure as possible, so he sent a wave of power straight to her sensitive nub.
"Ah - ah! - ahh!" her exclamations got higher and higher, and his hands and mouth kept working the three areas, and then she practically sobbed, "I-I don't understand!" and he abruptly stopped everything.
He crushed her in a gathered hug and told his erection to please SHUT UP, the girl obviously needed some comforting.
"Did you want me to stop?" he asked soothingly, stroking her hair, and she said, "No-"
"No?"
"Um, no, but maybe it's better that you did. I think I was going to break."
He chuckled lightly. "You want to be broken, my dear."
She shook her head, confused. "I don't understa-"
"Did it feel good?" he interrupted.
She nodded.
"Do you trust me?"
She nodded again, and he wondered how on earth a crippled, evil imp of a Beast had managed to acquire the love of a Beauty.
"Then let me break you."
He kissed her - she was comfortable with kissing - and magiced his clothes away rather than bothering to stop. But Belle stopped and reached down and wrapped her hand around him - her impeccable curiosity! - and, without him even having to tell her, began to stroke the length up and down.
"It's very big. And hard," she said innocently, and he would have laughed at how unintentionally dirty she sounded if he hadn't been about to lose his mind. "Isn't it difficult to walk around with it?"
This time he did laugh and then said softly, "It only does that when I'm around you." Then he groaned her name, and she tightened her grip.
"Do you like this?" she asked, still innocently, but maybe he liked her innocence.
"I love it." He kissed her. "And I love you."
Then again, stealing her innocence did not sound like a bad idea at all. It sounded positively beastly.
They sat next to each other in a booth at Granny's. Each had a hamburger in front of them. Then their hands accidentally touched, and their eyes met, and in the heated beat between them all insanity of librarians and their library apartments were vaporized.
"Come home with me."
It was something between a question and a demand.
She nodded. "And keep house. You can't keep the place dusted for the life of you."
The hamburgers were forgotten, and she looked as though she wanted to attack him on the spot, and he couldn't have agreed more, so he poofed them home in a cloud of purple smoke.
For only she could ever learn to love a Beast.
The End