Dreamcatcher
Chapter Two
The Library Fine
David laid the stack of dreamcatchers on the kitchen counter. After the foray with Belle, he had gone over to Regina's to meet up with Robin and Killian. Regina was over with Snow and all the children, including Henry. Robin and Killian were there waiting for him. Robin greeted him anxiously.
"How'd it go?"
"Success!"
Killian shook his head. "I don't know about this. Working with the crocodile . . . "
"He's Rumplestiltskin now, not the Dark One," David corrected him. "He's pretty sure he's got a direction to go that will help Emma and since he's the only one who's got any ideas . . . well, I'm going along with him."
Robin nodded in agreement. "It's the best choice we have."
"Yeah, well, when your choice is between no options and bad options . . . that's no choice," Killian groused.
"What are these?" Robin had noticed the stack of dreamcatchers that David had set on the counter. "Some of Emma's other dreamcatchers?"
"There were hundreds of them in her basement. We found the one Rumple wanted and we grabbed a bunch of the others just to see what they do," David explained.
Killian picked up one. "They do something?" he asked.
"I don't know. Belle took some, too."
Killian held one up. It had a violet bead and a grey bead in it.
Abruptly a picture of Henry and Violet appeared, with both of the young people dressed in Camelot garb, walking and holding hands together.
"This is something that happened when we were in Camelot." Robin said recognizing the clothing.
Bored, Killian held up another dreamcatcher. This one had a white bead and pale blue bead. "What's this one?"
It was Mary Margaret and David, both in Camelot garb. They were arguing about Lancelot and Arthur. They stopped and took each other's hands. They looked into each other's eyes. "We aren't getting anywhere with this." David said.
"There has to be a way we can work together and find out the truth," Mary Margaret told her husband.
"I agree absolutely. And . . . I have an idea," David told her. They smiled at each other.
They watched as the two concocted a plan to discover which one was telling the truth, Lancelot or Arthur, since it was obvious that they both weren't being honest.
"These appear to be some of our forgotten memories from Camelot!" David suddenly realized. "I don't remember having this discussion with Mary Margaret. If we had enough of these, we might be able to piece together what happened while we were there."
"Agreed, man," Killian said and picked up a large dreamcatcher with a black bead and a bright blue bead.
It was Gold walking into the Storybrooke Library. The man was dressed, as he almost always was, impeccably, in a black three-piece suit with a burgundy shirt and complimentary tie and pocket square. To Killian's mind the man didn't walk, he swaggered, even with that damn cane.
Killian pulled back. "This isn't Camelot."
"No, I wonder what it means. Why did Emma have this memory?" Robin asked.
They continued watching the images as they splayed across the dreamcatcher.
Gold walked up to the main desk where Miss French was sitting behind the Return Counter working at the computer. Gold had to lean over the counter to look down at her. She was dressed in her most pedestrian style, a severe white cotton blouse tucked into a full dark plaid skirt. She did wear some interesting stacked black heels with little bows on them. She had pulled her hair back into a bun. She wore no jewelry or makeup.
"Miss French," he began and laid some books on the counter.
"Mr. Gold," she greeted him, looking up from her chair. It was one of those large sturdy wooden swivel chairs with an arm on each side. Miss French glanced at the books and stood up to examine them. "These books are seriously overdue," she pronounced.
"Yeah, they are," he agreed with just a hint of a smirk.
"There's a fine," she told him.
"I'm prepared to pay it," he answered her.
"And," she continued in her sternest librarian voice, "since you're a Repeat Offender, there will be a Penalty."
"I expected as much. The usual, Miss French?" He laid his hand on the smooth polished wooden counter top and began slowly moving his fingers in small circles. He watched her intently.
Miss French stiffened. "I think the usual will be . . . " she hesitated, blinking her eyes. "the usual should be . . .uh . . .uh . . . sufficient."
He continued to rub his hand on the countertop, in circles, back and forth, over and over while Miss French began to breathe heavily, panting, closing her eyes and beginning to moan. She was holding on to the other side of the counter, holding onto it, her hands clenching at the edge. She tilted her head back, her breathing now coming fast and little sounds escaping from her. Suddenly she lurched forward and a sharp cry came from her.
"Rum!"
She nearly collapsed onto the counter.
"What was that?" David asked.
"Well, mate it looked like the crocodile worked his mojo and got his woman off just standing there in the library," Killian guessed. "Neat trick that."
"Uh, guys, this looks like it might be kinda personal," Robin was clearly uncomfortable.
"Yes it does," Killian agreed and held the dreamcatcher up again.
Miss French was pulling herself together. "Mr. Gold," she addressed him firmly. "That was not according to the rules."
Gold gave her a smirk, "Well then, I guess there will be an additional penalty?" he asked.
"I'm afraid so. I can't afford to be lenient with you. If I let you get away with something one time, I'm sure you won't hesitate to try it again," she told him, a faint smile appearing on her face all the while she was shaking her head in mock dismay.
He walked around to the back of the counter and put his arms around an unresisting Miss French. He whispered in her ear, "It's after closing time, do we need to lock the front door?" and then he smelt her hair, breathing her scent in.
"I'll take care of it," she told him breathlessly.
"Allow me," he told her and held his hand up, obviously using magic, to shut and then latch the door. The Open sign flipped over to Closed. He followed up by turning off most of the lights in the facility. He then pulled her into him, her back to his front. One hand impudently reached up to caress a breast and the other dropped down to her stomach. She leaned back into him and he busied himself kissing along her neck, sometimes kissing, sometimes licking, sometimes just using his lips to pull the salt off of her skin, savoring her unique personal flavor.
In short order, Miss French was quickly moaning, one hand resting on top of his hand that was alternately exploring the softness of her breast and tweaking her hardened nipple through her blouse and her bra. Soon her other hand reached up and back to grasp him as she could by the neck, her fingers entwining in his hair. He pulled her taut against himself and held her as still as he could, his hand now under her skirts. Soon enough she was making little noises and her hand was curling in his hair. And then she was crying out his name again, her body jerking in his hands.
"This is definitely really personal stuff," Robin said.
"Is this a memory, a dream, a fantasy?" David asked.
"Who cares? I'm betting he gets her off one more time before she lets him bang her," Killian said.
Mr. Gold was holding Miss French upright, whispering sweet things in her ear, letting her know how beautiful she was, how much he appreciated her responsiveness.
He turned her around and kissed her directly on the mouth. Miss French clung to him but seemed to be slipping down, her knees buckling, her grasp on his suit jacket failing her. When he released her, her head fell back. He lifted her and set her on the high counter, unfastening her shoes and dropping them on the floor. He then reached up under her skirts and dragged her panties down her legs. He stopped a moment to inhale the sweet scent of her arousal then tucked the lacy underthings into his jacket pocket. Then he sat down in her heavy wooden chair which put him on eye level with her hips. With excruciating slowness, he caressed her smooth, silken legs, grazing her with his nails, running his hands up from her ankles to her knees, then pulling her knees apart. . . and holding them apart. His eyes locked with hers a moment, her breath catching in her throat, her teeth biting her lower lip. Then he lifted her skirt and he rolled the chair forward to bury his head between her legs.
Miss French leaned back on the counter supporting her weight on her arms which she had set behind herself. Her head was back and her eyes were closed as she gave herself over to his attentions. When she began making the now familiar little sounds, Mr. Gold pulled away.
"Nooo," she told him. "Please don't stop. Please, I was so close."
"I need to be very sure that all is forgiven. That I will be credited with paying my fine and all my penalties," he told her softly.
"Yes, yes, yes! Please, don't stop," she was near crying.
"Oh, you can ask more prettily than that," he told her, pulling his head out from under her skirts, placing his hands on the tops of her thighs bunching the voluminous materials of her skirt.
"Nooo," she protested. "I really, really want you to continue. Don't get me so close and then stop. Please."
He slowly kissed the inside of her knee then turned his eyes up to hers. "Shall we make a deal?" he asked, his eyes glinting.
"Yes, yes, whatever you want," she told him, panting.
"Whatever? Whatever I want?" He shook his head. "Did no one ever tell you to be careful making open-ended deals?" He chuckled and kissed her other leg, licking his way a little higher up on her thigh. "I might make some outrageous request from you," he warned her.
"Yes, yes, whatever," she pleaded with him
"Why don't you unbutton your blouse," he directed her and watched as Belle frantically unbuttoned the little cotton blouse she wore. "Now take it off," he told her. She immediately complied, the blouse dropping on the counter top next to her.
He kissed her a little higher up on her thigh. "Now, unfasten your skirt and pull it over your head."
Miss French reached down and unbuttoned her skirt, unzipped it and pulled it over her head, also laying it on the counter next to her.
"Now take off your bra."
Miss French complied, removing a little beige lace number and revealing pert breasts, the nipples swollen and visibly standing out.
"And take down your hair.
Miss French did as she had been told, shaking out the shining chestnut locks so that ringlets fell around her shoulders.
"That is one nice little piece of cheesecake," Killian observed. If he'd been wearing a hat, he would've tipped it to Miss French. "Whatever does she see in him?"
"Well, he can pull orgasms out of her like bunnies out of a magician's hat. A lotta women like that," David told him.
"Yeah, and he's rich," Robin also told him.
"He dresses well, too," David continued.
"He's also really smart. Belle would certainly like that," Robin added.
Killian glowered at the two other men. "All right, I get it."
And their attention returned to the dreamcatcher.
"Very nice," Mr. Gold complimented her and moved back to continue his efforts with his tongue and lips, kissing her in her most sensitive places, licking, sucking and finally, joining his fingers to the effort, slipping two of them into her wet, ready passage while he clamped down on her sensitized clit.
Miss French who had been moaning and thrashing about as she could, suddenly went very still and then it appeared as if she convulsed, her entire body shaking while she screamed, "Rum, Rum, Ruuuuummmm!"
She collapsed onto his shoulders.
He managed to stand and wrapped his arms around her.
"That was pretty impressive," Robin had to admit.
"Three times in what, fifteen, twenty minutes? Yeah. I'm impressed," David agreed.
"Well, he had to use magic for that first one," Killian told them. "Do you think he's gonna boink her right there in the library?"
"Should we be watching this?" David had to ask.
"It does seem . . . intrusive," Robin agreed.
"Didn't you say that Belle took some of these back with her to the crocodile?" Killian asked. "For all we know, they could be watching any of us having our way with our women. Do you think Gold would have the moral fiber to stop watching, even if Belle walked away?"
"Well," Robin vacillated.
Killian continued, "Have to admit, I'm not looking forward to seeing the crocodile's antiquated arse, much less his shriveled junk. But I am willing to bet that he can only get it up once."
"You're on," David told him. "I'd be willing to take that bet. Twenty dollars?"
"How about a hundred?" Killian upped the bet.
"Done," said David.
Mr. Gold stood a moment to pull Miss French off the counter and sat back down in the wooden chair pulling her onto his lap. He stopped a moment to unfasten his belt and unzip his pants and then settled Miss French down onto his lap. He had her thread her legs through the arms of the chair. She was facing him. He quickly lifted her up to lower her down onto his very ready cock. Belle shuddered at the abrupt possession, her eyes fluttering. He kissed her softly while she clung to him.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
She managed to nod. "I just wasn't expecting anything so quick," she said. She smiled at him, "I'm all right."
Miss French then began to kiss his face and his neck while she busied herself unknotting his tie, pulling it off and unbuttoning his vest and shirt, so she could run her hands over his chest. He directed her to hold onto the arms of the chair and then he began to canter his hips up and down. The motion of his body caused the chair to swivel around and around. It began to roll across the floor slowly turning round. Miss French found herself holding onto the arms of the chair to keep herself level and to hold on as the chair began moving. Gold reached around to take her first by the waist and then his hands dropped to clamp down on to her hips. He continued lifting himself, moving more and more rapidly, relishing her hot, wet reception.
"Rum," she said weakly and her body trembled. She fell into him as he pushed up a few more times, then moaned and tensed, and he poured himself into her.
He held her, wrapping his arms around her, rocking her and whispering nonsense sounds to her.
"Well, damn, he's gotten her off five times now," Killian muttered. "But who's counting?"
"Apparently you are," Robin observed.
"Why don't I help you get dressed my sweetheart and we'll go back to the house?" he asked her.
"Give me a moment," she asked him, her voice soft and quick. She was still nestled on his lap, lying on his chest.
"Give me a moment and I'll be ready for you again," he warned her. "Especially if you keep wiggling around like you're doing."
Killian sat upright, "There is no way he's going to get it up again that quickly!"
David shook his head, "No telling. But I think I'm going to want to invest in one of those library chairs. That looked like fun. I'm going home to return to the wife," he announced. "I'll put you on the honor system here. Let me know if he does it twice."
"I think I want one of those chairs too," Robin shared. "And I'm going to go ahead with David and pick up Regina, Henry and Roland. You're on your own here. Make sure the show is over before we get back."
"Well, fine then," Killian told the other two men. He sat in Regina's kitchen still holding the dreamcatcher.
It wasn't fair. It was obvious that Rumple was amplifying his efforts with magic, but, damn, the man did have some moves.
He held up the dreamcatcher and watched.
Miss French was still collapsed onto Gold. He was petting her and occasionally planting small kisses on her. He continued to murmur soft comforting words to her and she slowly seemed to regain possession of her faculties.
"I'm sorry. I may have drifted off," she told him sitting up.
"You were wonderful," he reassured her. He put his hands on both sides of her face and kissed her, his mouth gently prying hers open and his hands slipping to the back of her head to hold her in place. Her arms came up around him. They parted and he slowly smiled at her. Miss French dropped her eyes apparently reading his intent.
Gold rose up from the chair, holding her against him. Miss French wrapped her legs around him allowing him to carry her. He stopped in front of her work desk and lowered her. Miss French dropped her legs so that she was standing up. Gold planted one more kiss on her nose and turned her around, ignoring Miss French's half-hearted protests. He reached down and swept away papers and pencils and the other office paraphernalia that was on the work desk and gently pushing her down so that she was lying face-down across her own desk. His hands were on her hips. This time he dropped his pants and there was a brief moment of full frontal.
Killian swore, "Damn it to hell, the freakin' lunch box has landed!" This couldn't be all Rumplestiltskin – the man had to have augmented himself - both his equipment and his stamina.
But there was still his technique . . . well damn.
Gold was actively servicing a moaning Miss French, pushing against her lovely bum, taking his time to work himself into her. It was a snugger fit from this angle and he had no wish to create any discomfort. From this vantage he was able to reach down and around to stimulate the tender flesh between her legs and she quickly responded.
Killian realized he'd lost count of how many times Gold had brought French over the top . . . more than he'd ever done with Emma in one session . . . or Milah, for that matter. He and Gold had both had over three hundred years to work on their skills (although, Killian had to excuse himself, most of his time had been spent in Neverland and fair and willing women were few to none in that cursed realm.) Of course, Rumple had been covered with green scales during that time, which had to have impacted on him picking up women – but he did have that magic allure thing going for him.
Shit, though, there was no getting around it. No matter how many excuses, how many explanations, how much he rationalized. Whatever Rumple might have been before, here and now, Rumple was better in the sack than he was.
The Pawn Shop – Early the Next Day
It was morning. David and Killian had dropped by the Pawn Shop. Gold looked up from his usual place behind the counter when they came in, ringing his little shop bell.
"Still working on things," he told David shortly.
"I know, we just came by to drop off some of these dreamcatchers," David explained.
Gold froze for the briefest of moments. "Yes. We were able to access memories on these, many memories from Camelot. Belle figured out that the color of the beads indicates the persons involved in the memory."
"We pretty much got that too," David told him. "I pulled out those that were for Snow and me, those that were for Regina and Robin and then Killian got the ones for himself and Emma. I think these are yours and Belle's." David handed Gold some dreamcatchers with black and bright blue beads.
"Thank you. And I've got yours all sorted out," he motioned to one of the counter tops that held neat stacks of the different groupings of dreamcatchers.
"Listen Gold. I . . . we really appreciate your help with all this. What's happening with Emma is really making us re-think how the Dark Curse affects a person and . . . well, I think we may owe you . . . uh . . . an apology."
Gold stood quietly. "Thank you," he finally said.
"Where's Miss Belle?" Killian asked. "Usually she's here dusting and flitting around and stuff."
"She's over in the library today. She really wants to get it up and running properly," Gold told them and winced. "I just remembered. I've got a book out and I'm pretty sure it's overdue."
David swallowed so abruptly that he choked and Killian had to pound him on his back.
"Are you all right?" Gold asked the man.
"Yeah," David managed to nod, still coughing.
"He was just wondering if Belle was going to have you pay a fine for being late," Killian said.
"I would think so," Gold told them. "She's very strict about that type of thing." And he watched with some amusement as Killian led a still coughing David out the shop.
The Diner - Early the Next Day
"Well Belle, I don't understand. How did all those shelving units tip over? It's not like we had an earthquake or anything," Leroy was shaking his head.
Mrs. Gold had come into the diner and had asked for his assistance in re-ordering the library. Apparently there had been an incident and a shelving unit had tipped over which began a domino effect and several units had gone down.
Belle blushed. "I was . . . uh . . . re-shelving some books and I . . . I got distracted and, well, one thing led to another and . . . can you just help me get the shelf units put back up, please?"
Killian had been in the booth just across from Leroy. He muttered under his breath, "Re-shelving. So that's what they're calling it now."
Belle turned to look at him, having overheard the remark.
"Killian?"
He looked at her. "Was Gold helping you – re-shelve those books?" he had to ask.
She gave him a brilliant smile. "Why yes, he was. He was late with returning a book and I had him help out to pay off a penalty."
"Doesn't sound like it worked out too well," Killian said sourly into his coffee, "if you ended up trashing the library."
"The re-shelving didn't go so well, but . . . well, everything else was very satisfying."
Killian watched her leave with Leroy.
Yeah, Gold was definitely better in the sack than he was.
It sucked.
A.N. I want to thank everyone for their remarkably kind and enthusiastic reviews. This was as far as I had intended to take this (I'm working on a more serious story for the Winter Hiatus, really I am); however, several of you have suggested additional things that might be explored with these dreamcatchers (thank you) – most often Belle and Rumple viewing events and fantasies from their past – I don't know – I'll have to see if the mood strikes. Writing smut turns out to be one of the more challenging writing tasks I've ever attempted and I find it incredibly stressful (and I write to relieve stress not create it). We'll see. Thx -twyla