A/N: Everybody has fantasies… even Belle. A snippet for #WankWeek… We love you BadFaery!
Warning: Explicit
He tiptoed quietly up the stairs, a luxury he did not possess only weeks ago, before he came back from Neverland. He 'd called her and told her he was sorry, urgent business would keep him late at the shop tonight. But in reality, he had closed the shop a trifle early, stopping by the dressmaker to pick up a pretty, sky blue confection he had seen earlier in the week and had put aside just for her. He 'd also stopped by her father' s shop and endured the man 's icy glare while he purchased a dainty bouquet of local wildflowers.
A reservation had been made at Storybrooke 's only supper club, it would be dinner and dancing and a night on the town for his lady tonight. He fingered the small, velvet box that had been living in his pockets for almost a week now. Tonight, tonight there would be a moment perfect enough to ask her, he was sure of it.
He slipped up the stairs with the bulky garment bag, ready to surprise her. Their bedroom door was slightly ajar, Belle 's high-heeled shoes and tights strewn carelessly on the floor. He looked about, but Gold did not understand what he was seeing or hearing. His heart tightened suddenly into a fist and all the breath left his body.
His first thought to turn and leave, his second to fight. A dark figure loomed from the shadows in the corner of their room, and Belle lay spread before him, moaning on their bed. The room was in twilight, but Belle was illuminated by the golden light of the sunset as she twisted and gasped, her own hand working furiously between her thighs while the silent onlooker stood unmoving.
He nearly went to his knees in anguish before his brain registered what he was truly seeing. He heard Belle 's sharp intake of breath and guttural groan, "Oh, Rumple, yes, there 's no need to be gentle!" Her skirt was rucked up around her waist, her blouse open, one breast lifted out of the cup of her bra. Her fingers pinched and pulled at the tight, pink bud of her nipple, rougher than Rumple would ever have dared. She rolled it between her fingers and pulled at it, her back arching up off the bed, her chestnut curls falling artlessly from her messy bun.
So Gold stands in the doorway watching her, his cock straining at the front of his trousers. He reaches down and rubs himself through the rough wool, he is so hard for her. He should interrupt her, let her know he 's standing there watching this private moment, but he can' t bring himself to. He' s mesmerized by the sheer eroticism of her dishabille. So he stands there, a voyeur in his own bedroom.
Belle' s eyes are scrunched tight, her breathing arrested, mouth open as she coils in orgasm, finally shuddering in completion. "Oh, Rum," she breathes as her muscles relax and she lay panting, her skin flushed pink, her eyes sparkling.
" You know, sweetheart… " he wanders over to stand beside her when she starts upright at the sound of his voice. Belle blushes furiously at first, her eyes darting to the dark figure still looming in the corner. He takes her hand, lifting it to his lips for a taste of her, his eyes alight with mischief and lust, and she cannot help but smile coyly at him, her eyebrows lifting in amusement.
Rumple fingers the lapels of his dragon scale coat where it hangs on the antique dress-form that usually stands in their guest room, but is now here, next to their bed. " All you had to do was ask me to wear it. "