Rated: M
Pairings: Gold/Belle
Disclaimer: It could not be less mine. Once Upon a Time belongs to Adam Horowitz and Eddy Kitsis, ABC and Disney. This disclaimer applies for the whole story.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Rum Gold, a renowned chocolatier is reluctantly on his way to the Culinary's Guild's Jubilee, dreading to meet again with the woman who tried to destroy his imperium and broke his heart two years ago. Meanwhile, Belle French is terrified by the prospect of facing the man she loves so deeply but was forced to give up.
AU/No curse.
Genre: Romance/Drama
Author's note: the story is inspired on the following prompt:
Belle works for the chocolate factory. She is send to the small town of Storybrooke to steal the recipes of the most famous Chocolatier, Mr. Gold. Seduce the secluded and shy man must not be a problem, but, is the man or too much chocolate becoming and aphrodisiac?
This was originally posted on 'Rumbelle Daily Prompt' on Tumblr. I took a few liberties with the plot-line.
Chapter 1
The drive to Avonlea was spend in tense silence. Dove drove the car soundlessly and effortlessly over roads that became increasingly more drivable as they reached the heart of the industrial area.
From the moment they had left the factory and drove into Salem's Woods, Gold had busied himself with a seemingly endless stack of paperwork, scribbling away furiously, refusing to look up and meet the eyes of his companions.
Jefforson Hatter stared out of the window, taking in his surroundings, his trademark good humor fading in the face of the sea of grayness and steel that seemed to swallow them as they neared the city of Avonlea. He barely could make out the houses they passed through the heavy fog that had descended on the streets and obscured his view.
Every now and then the harsh, cold light of a street lamp cleared up some of the vapor and illuminated the filthy, deserted streets. A black, sticky sludge clung to every surface, soiling the buildings and pavement.
It was only four o' clock in the afternoon, but it was already darkening like evening was falling.
When they had left Hamelin that morning the sun had shone brightly, coloring the sky blue and casting a golden glow on the red, orange and ochre leaves of the autumn trees. Driving through this desolate city, Jefferson felt like the very happiness was being sucked out of him.
Eventually they reached the inner city of Avonlea were most of the manufactures were located and Jefferson watched in a state of terrified awe how endless high buildings, almost scraping the sky, followed each other in rapid order. Most of the buildings were connected to each other by a system of tunnels and through the massive windows he watched people in uniform trudge through them, their shoulders slumped and their head bowed, fatigue radiating from their postures.
He realized this must be the employees of the many large factories, returning from working their shifts at the assembly line.
Because of the bright light in the tunnels he could see them despite the fog and he noticed their identical, shapeless uniforms made out of a stark, grey material and the way their heads were covered by some kind of helmet.
The whole atmosphere of the city was suffocating and smothering and involuntarily his thoughts drifted back to Belle French as he remembered her. Happy and vibrant with thick, shining chestnut curls and sparkling blue eyes. It was incomprehensible that a girl who'd grown up in such a stark, parched environment had been so full of live and color herself.
But of course in the end that had all been a lie, a smoke-screen pulled up by a cunning, ruthless trickster. Avonlea was right were she belonged: a place as cold and devoid of feeling as the woman herself.
Still, he couldn't stop himself from sighing as he twisted his hat around in his hands. "What an awful place to live is this."
In the front of the car Dove made an affirmative noise, but when Gold finally looked up from the file in his hands Jefferson was struck by the look of both pain and fury in his eyes.
"Yes… well, all the more reason to get this over with as quickly as possible."
His tone was icy and his hands balled into such tight fists that his knuckles were turning white and not for the first time Jefferson wondered if coming to Avonlea had been such wise plan after all.
Her shoulders ached and her feet were killing her. Another long, gruesome day at the factory had finally come to an end and the relief she felt at finally returning home was tempered by the knowledge than in another twelve hours a new ten-hour shift awaited her.
For a few moments Belle dwelled in the still unfurnished shop she had just entered and ran her hands over the workbench. Perhaps in a month's time she would finally be able to open up and realize her lifelong dream of reopening her mother sweet store.
It all depended on the outcome of the Culinary Guild's Jubilee that was to start on the next day.
Her dream was about to come true and yet she couldn't muster the happiness or the enthusiasm to rejoice in it.
It had come at far too high a price.
Making her way to the spiral staircase at the end of the shop, Belle turned off the lights before climbing the stairs up to the one room apartment she'd lived in since her return from Hamelin.
Taking off her protective poncho and stepping out of her heavy work booths she remembered with a regretful smile the dresses and heels she had favored during her apprenticeship with Gold. Her beloved wardrobe was now safely tucked away and pulled out only on special occasions because the grueling shifts at the factory left little use for fine clothing.
From her purse she pulled a brown paper back that contained tonight's dinner. Even after two years she still hadn't gotten used to the greasy, tasteless drab that passed as food in Avonlea and she often wondered if it had become even worse in her absence or that she noticed it more now because he had taught her what food was supposed to taste like and how much joy a well chosen palate of flavors could bring.
Sitting down at the table she nibbled listlessly at the food, trowing most of it away as her stomach rebelled against the artificial supplements that made up most of her dinner.
Then she changed into a fresh pair of pajamas and leaned against the window frame for a few moments, gazing outside. Through the thick fog she could barely make out more than the closest sky-scrapers. In the far distance a horn blew, signaling beginning of the night shift and she closed her eyes, trying to picture the woods of Hamelin, the bright light of the moon and the million stars that twinkled against a velvet, dark blue sky.
If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost smell the fresh air and the crisp of the first frost, but the memory slipped away just as fleetingly and when she opened her eyes, she was once again looking at polluted pavements and stained buildings.
Closing the curtains, she made her way to the corner of her room were her bed was and before she climbed in she briefly grazed her fingers over the locket lying on her nightstand.
"Good night, Rum… sweet dreams."
Once in bed she curled up into a ball and pulled the covers over her head, closing her eyes as tightly as she could, desperately wanting to escape to the place were her dreams and memories of happier times dwelled.
Memories of scent and flavor, of fresh air and sunlight, of color and of warmth.
Of arms enveloping her and holding her close.
She woke up to the scent of sandalwood, chocolate and something ineffable musky and masculine that she associated immediately with him.
She was lying on her side, his body pressed against her back, his arms protectively around her waist, holding her close, their feet intwined, his head resting on top of hers.
She felt him stir behind her, groaning softly as he was waking up and she stretched against him, pressing herself closer.
He growled in her ear, his lips ghosting over her jaw and neck, until she turned her head and captured his lips with her own. They kissed for a while, leisurely at first and when she pulled back for a moment the soft look of wonder and admiration in his eyes made her heart ache.
Reaching out, she grasped the back of his head and pulled him down for another kiss that quickly turned more heated and passionate, until the touch of his fingers, tracing slow, tantalizing patterns across her belly and breasts became too much and she moaned into his mouth, moving to roll over.
He stopped her attempt with a gentle hand on her hip, his lips returning to the spot behind her ear, kissing and licking her there until she signed.
His hand slid to her thigh and he carefully moved her leg a little to create more room for him. Suddenly she caught on to what he was up to and she gasped in pleasure, heat flooding her as she felt his hard length against her backside.
"Like this, sweetheart?" The low rumble of his voice in her ear was both a suggestion and a question and she nodded eagerly, wriggling her hips against him.
"Oh yes…" Her soft words ended in a prolonged moan as he slipped inside her, his hands resuming their teasing touches.
Still huddled underneath the warm duvets, wrapped up in their own little cocoon, she felt safe, cared for and incredibly desired like this. This position didn't allow her much space to move, except for arching into every one of his slow thrusts, especially when his fingers found her most intimate place.
As he stroked and fondled her, bringing her higher and higher, while he continued to taste the tender skin of her neck, she almost sobbed with the sweet torture of it and eventually clenching around him, feeling his movements behind her growing more erratic until he followed her over the edge.
He held and stroked her for a long time afterwards, slowly bringing her down from her peak, still gently bathing her neck and shoulder with kisses.
Eventually she did turn around and sprawled over his chest, brushing his hair away from his sweaty forehead and stroking his face, her heart almost bursting with love for him.
"You're so wonderful," she told him seriously, running her hands through his hair. "You are so, so amazing."
His arms wrapped around her once again and he gazed up at her as if he still couldn't believe she was real. Then he threaded his fingers through her mass of curls and pulled her head down.
"My beautiful Belle," he murmured softly against her lips before claiming them with his own.
"I cannot believe you're starting this all over again," the big, square-jawed man grumbled angrily as he continued to pry at the lock of a container cargo on a dark and desolate storage area.
"We're almost there… everything is brought into motion," a woman dressed in a black cloak answered. "This time we will succeed."
"That's what you said last time," the man replied derisively. "Meanwhile Rum Gold is still the most acclaimed chocolatier in all the lands and that little twit is only months away from opening up her own shop.
"Gold has been out of business for over a year because of our interference," the woman reminded him. "His return is just a temporarily fluke. We will destroy him this time. And the girl along with him."
Finally the lock gave away and the man opened the door to the container, holding up a flashlight to create some light.
"Cosy," he commented sarcastically.
"I'll take your word for it," the woman replied with a small laugh, her milky white, empty eyes turning towards him.
"This is were will finally settle our business with Gold for once and for all."
The hotel he'd booked for his stay in Avonlea was advertised to be the finest of the city and his room among the best the hotel had to offer.
In truth the room was cold and sparsely furnished. The bed was hard and uncomfortable, the grayish sheets stark and unyielding.
Sitting down at the edge of the bed, Rum Gold buried his face in his hands and took a few deep breaths to dissipate the nauseating feeling of homesickness that washed over him and the almost irresistible urge to put his traveler's cloak back on and return to Hamelin straight away.
As much as he dreaded the upcoming event, he was determined to see it through, to finally face the demons of the last twenty-five years and the last two years in particular before he went mad from the heartache of it all.
After this trip he would be able to but it all behind him, to put her behind him and concentrate solely on his son and on his factory.
Once the Jubilee was over and he'd had the fill of his revenge against the woman who had single-handedly tried to destroy his factory and managed to ruin him in the process, he would finally feel less cheated, less torn. He would finally be able to let go.
He would take from her what she had taken from him, just as irrevocably and painfully.
Rising from foot end of the bed with some difficulty, he opened the suitcase lying behind him and took out a small, blue-patterned porcelain cup. Clutching it in his hand he leaned heavily on the cane in his other and made his way to the small table in front of the window, placing the cup in the middle.
Across the rim a noticeable chip was missing and he ran his finger carefully across it, the sharp edges cutting into his skin.
Suppressing the memories of her laughter and the warm feel of her body, he focussed on what the cup really showed him: sharp edges and the ability to cut and mar. Because no matter how beautiful and whole it may once have been, it was now utterly broken and useless.
He'd come to Avonlea to finish his business with Belle French once and for all.
Author's note:
This story has a bit of Steampunk feel to it. While I was writing it, I pinned a lot of relevant pictures on my Pinterest account to keep inspired. (Tons of absolutely beautiful dresses and outfits for Belle) When the first part of the story became ready for posting I thought it would be fun to share those pictures. So on my Pinterest account I release a board along with every new chapter that shows the pictures that go with the story.
Look for 'Miss Puppet' on Pinterest or on Tumblr to find the link.
