A/N: You seemed to like the first part, so I thought I should really write their date. Gold didn't get to have an orgasm yet, after all, and the poor boy worked hard. I'm a kind author...


Belle caught her breath as she lifted her hand and pressed the buzzer for Gold's apartment, straightening the wide blue skirt of her dress. He lived in an exclusive neighbourhood, and she had felt a little out of place as she had walked through the complex. It was not far from the university, but she was pleased that she had decided to take a cab; her feet were already uncomfortable in the high heels she had chosen. She usually had no problem walking in heels, but these ones were particularly narrow, with pointed toes. The upside was that they looked fabulous. The downside was that she would probably be hobbling by the end of the evening if Gold chose to walk any great distance. Given the fact that he had a cane, she supposed that was unlikely.

There was a loud buzz, and she pushed at the door, walking into a foyer which was all dark wood and concealed lighting. An elevator stood off to the left, and Belle gave the concierge a tremulous smile as she made her way towards it. She took a moment to compose herself in the elevator, already feeling out of her depth. It had been that way in his office; she had gone in there thinking she had the upper hand, and to some extent he had taken over. Not that she minded that, but it took some getting used to. The elevator stopped all too soon, and she took a deep breath and got out, clutching her purse to her chest protectively.

Gold's apartment was number 6, and she hesitated outside the innocuous pale grey door before knocking. It was a moment before he answered, a moment in which her heart rate increased and her breath quickened, and she wondered what the hell was wrong with her. She had never been this nervous on a date! She took a deep breath as the door opened, to reveal Professor Gold looking immaculate in a black suit, teamed with a dark red silk shirt and black tie. She raised her eyes to his face, meeting his eyes, and he smiled.

"Miss French," he said pleasantly. "You look stunning. Please, come in."

He held open the door, and she walked in slowly, looking around herself. The apartment was modern, its walls a cool grey, minimalist furniture and black leather couches placed before a large flat screen TV. There were also bookshelves crammed with books, Belle was pleased to see. Standing lamps gave off a muted light, and soft, classical music was playing in the background. She relaxed a little.

"You have a lovely apartment," she said awkwardly, and he smiled, watching her. He gestured towards another door.

"I took the liberty of ordering in, if you've no objection," he said, and Belle almost sagged with relief, her feet already complaining about the amount of time she had been vertical.

"Not at all." She allowed him to take her coat, his fingertips brushing her shoulders and making her shiver, and then followed him through to a dining room with a long, mahogany table and crystal light fittings. Her food was already waiting for her: a salad of red and green endive, pear, blue cheese and caramelised walnuts, and he sat across from her, smiling as she dug in with a will. It was delicious: light and fresh, the richness of the cheese complementing the bitter leaves, ripe slices of pear and the earthy sweetness of the walnuts and balsamic dressing. He poured them each a glass of very cold, very dry white wine, and Belle rolled her eyes in pleasure at the range of flavours on her tongue.

"You didn't make this, then?" she asked, and he smirked.

"This, I did, but the main course, I must confess, did not come from my hands. I trust you're not a vegetarian, Miss French?"

"I'll eat anything," she said truthfully. "By and large. I never met a food I couldn't eat, let's put it that way. What about you?"

He hesitated, and shrugged. "Well, I'm not too keen on Marmite," he admitted, and she giggled.

"That's the British Vegemite, huh? I think there's very little danger of being ambushed by that over here, Mr Gold." She grinned as she said it, and he smiled at her, his eyes gleaming in the light from the lamps. She took another mouthful of wine, letting the sharp, citrusy flavours coat her tongue. He watched her do it, his eyes suddenly intense, and she remembered the feeling of his mouth on her, his tongue tasting her, seeking out the very core of her and bringing her pleasure. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks, and sat back, pushing her plate away.

"I'm finished," she said meekly, and he stood up immediately, clearing away the empty plates and carrying them out of the room. Belle took a deep breath, wishing that Ruby was home so she could text her for a little confidence boost.

Gold soon returned, two plates in hand, from which delicious smells were emanating. Belle raised her head and sniffed deeply, making him chuckle, and she beamed as he placed the dish in front of her. A thick piece of white fish - halibut, she thought - sat atop a small amount of linguine in a light seafood broth, and her mouth watered as she picked up her fork.

"So, what's your story?" she asked, spearing a mussel. "Whereabouts in Scotland are you from?"

"Glasgow," he said. "I moved to the US twenty four years ago. It seems longer, somehow." He took a drink, watching her twirl pasta around her fork, and cut into his fish. Belle chewed and swallowed, gesturing with her fork, a glint in her eye.

"Did you know that half the university thinks you and Dr Rush are related?"

Gold frowned, not wanting to think about Rush, about the fact that there were more than two of them in this – whatever it was.

"As far as I'm aware we're not," he said, with a shrug. "Though you're not the first to comment on it. Some of my students believe that my father had a penchant for rougher types."

Belle giggled. "Yeah, I heard that rumour. A few of the girls in my class have bets on when and where he met Rush's mother. At the moment the theory is some dive bar, but occasionally it changes to a seedy hotel that charges by the hour." She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling, and Gold snorted with amusement.

"The thing is, they could easily be right," he admitted. "My father worked away from home a lot, and my parents split up when I was very young. For all I know he was shagging half of Scotland."

Belle took a drink, shrugging. "Well, if it's true, I say lucky for me." She grinned at him, and he returned her smile, although right at this moment in time he was wishing that Rush would get sucked into one of his fucking black holes. He pushed the other man from his mind. This was his time, and he was determined to make the most of it.

There was little conversation as they ate, and Belle forgot to be nervous as she dug into the food. The portion was small, but rich, and she was pleasantly satisfied when she had finished.

"That was a wonderful dinner," she said warmly, and he smiled at her, taking his last forkful. Belle stretched and sighed.

"I'm really hoping we can leave dessert until later," she added, and his eyebrow quirked with interest.

"As you wish, Miss French," he said quietly, and she gave him a level look.

"You can call me Belle," she said. "You spread me out on your desk and went down on me. I'm pretty sure that first name terms are a given in that situation."

He chuckled deeply, taking a swig of wine, and she raised an eyebrow at him, dangling her almost-empty glass between thumb and forefinger.

"So? What's your name? Are you going to make me guess?"

He eyed her steadily, setting his glass down.

"No," he said abruptly. "You never would, anyway. You can call me Rum."

"Unusual. Okay," she nodded. "Were you conceived after a Cuba Libre bender, or something?"

Gold laughed briefly, getting up to clear away the plates. "I think not. It's short for Rumford. A family name." He grimaced, clearly not happy about the fact, and Belle sat back in her chair, running her eyes over him as she finished her wine.

"It suits you," she said eventually. "It's kind of old-fashioned, but it's uncommon, too."

He grinned, raising his glass a little. "Well, I suppose that's rather like me."

She smiled, meeting his gaze and holding it. "I like it. I kind of like calling you Gold, though. Professor Gold if I'm feeling a little kinky."

He watched her, his fingers gently stroking the stem of his wineglass, and she felt a shiver go through her as she imagined how it might feel to have him run his hands over the naked skin of her back, of her breasts. She took another drink, draining her glass, and he reached for the bottle to offer her another. Belle shook her head.

"No, thank you, I'm fine." She hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject of going to bed with him. She found that the thought excited her, far more than she had anticipated. There was a tug of need deep in her belly, a pulling and tightening as her body signalled its desire for him. He was still watching her, his eyes dark and glittering, and she felt her lips part, wanting to kiss him.

"May I offer you tea?" he asked, his voice somehow rougher, his accent slightly thicker, and she bit her lip, noticing his pupils widen, his breathing quicken a little.

"Maybe later," she said, putting down her glass. "Why don't you kiss me instead?"

He sat still for a moment, his eyes flicking over her, then he smiled briefly and stepped back, the scrape of his chair surprisingly loud in the tense quiet of the dining room. He walked slowly around the table, and Belle could feel her heart rate increase as he drew nearer, her breathing becoming heavier as she caught his scent, as she felt the first kiss of his warmth on her skin. He pulled out her chair, and she stood up, still breathing hard. The feel of his fingers folding gently over her shoulders made her start, and she sucked in air as he bent close, his breath tickling her ear and making her shiver.

"Would you follow me, Miss French?" he murmured, and slid his hands down her arms, one of them curling around her waist and leading her with him out of the dining room.

Belle followed him in a daze, her body suffused with desire, wetness already forming between her legs. She hoped he wouldn't make her wait too long before he touched her; she might just scream at him if so.

He led her through the lounge, opening a door to the right and ushering her inside. Belle took a long look around his bedroom. It was tastefully decorated, as with the rest of the apartment, the lighting muted and warm, the bed huge and immaculately made with dark grey cotton sheets. Belle felt him turn her slowly to face him, his hands gentle on her waist, and she laid her palms against his firm chest, looking at her fingernails, so she wouldn't have to meet his eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, and she nodded, still not looking at him. He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head up, and she swallowed hard as she looked deep into his eyes.

"Kiss me," she whispered, and he bent his head to hers, his lips soft and warm, his touch gentle. She moaned as his tongue parted her lips, tasting her, and he pulled her closer, his arms sliding around her. She breathed in his scent, his musk and spice and the woody scent of his cologne, and pressed herself against him, wanting to feel every bit of him. He kissed along her cheek, down her neck, his teeth sinking gently into her and making her gasp, before he trailed his lips up to her ear.

"What would you like me to do?" he asked softly, his hands sliding down over her rear and cupping it, squeezing her. "I could keep kissing you, Belle." His teeth tugged at her earlobe, making her moan. "I could peel off your clothes and lie you down on the bed and taste you, just like I did earlier today."

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, a dull throbbing between her legs. God, how she wanted him! His hands slid back up her body, thumbs slipping across her hardened nipples through the thin material of her dress, and he bit down again, bringing a groan forth from her.

"I could slip my tongue inside you," he whispered, his thumbs stroking her, fingers cupping her. "I could push my fingers right up inside you and lick you until you come, little Belle. You know I can do it." He pulled back, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes dark and hungry, his breathing ragged. "Do you want me to?" he went on, his voice almost a croon. "Do you want me to make you scream, Belle? Or do you want me to fuck you, long and slow? Whatever you want, my sweet."

Belle was almost incoherent, unable to do anything but cling to him and rub her pelvis against his. She could feel the hardness of him, the firm press of his length against her groin, and she desperately tried to wrest back control of the situation. Pulling out of his grip, she sank to her knees, unzipping his pants and reaching inside, and put her lips around his swollen cock before he could react.

Gold moaned aloud as he felt her, as the soft wetness of her mouth closed around him and her hands gripped his thighs. He had not expected that; he had wanted to drive her wild once more, just as he had that lunchtime. A tiny part of his brain considered asking her to stop, but it felt so fucking good he couldn't bring himself to. His hands sank into her hair, his jaw tight with concentration as he tried to focus on keeping his cool and not coming in her mouth. He wanted to come inside her, alright, but not like this. Not the first time. She was moving back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm, and that was almost enough in itself to make him lose his mind, but then she flicked her large blue eyes upwards, the spark of mischief in them, and he almost came apart right then. He squeezed her shoulders hurriedly.

"Belle!" he said warningly, and she took the hint, letting him slip from her mouth and getting to her feet. He pulled her close, his tongue pushing into her mouth, and she clung to him, kicking off her shoes and pulling open his jacket. He cursed his stupidity in wearing cufflinks, but taking the bloody things off provided a way to slow things down a little, which was what he wanted. He placed them on the dresser, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it over the back of a chair. She was gazing at him hungrily as he turned back, and she reached for him, pulling him close and kissing him as his fingers felt for the zipper of her dress.

"Turn around," he whispered, and she twisted obediently, offering him her back. He swept her hair to the side with a gentle hand, kissing down her neck as he pulled the zipper slowly down, the dark blue material of the dress parting to reveal her creamy skin. He shuddered with desire as he touched her, his fingers sliding over the softness of her, pushing the dress off her shoulders and down her arms, reaching around to cup her breasts through the thin lace of her bra. Her dress bunched at her waist, and he pushed it further with his hands, making it slide over her hips and hit the floor at her feet. She was revealed to him, black lace underwear clinging to her curves, and he unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor.

He slid his hands back down to her hips, turning her back to face him. His eyes roved over her, the taut mounds of her breasts and the deep pink of her hardened nipples, the slight curve of her belly, the gentle hint of her ribs beneath milky skin. Belle began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers trembling slightly as she did so. He let her unfasten it all the way, sliding her hands inside and over his smooth, warm skin, his jaw tightening slightly at her touch, at the feather-light brush of her fingers. She tugged at the shirt, pulling it from his shoulders, and he let it fall, drawing her against him and feeling her skin against his, his mouth finding hers in a deep, slow kiss.

Belle moaned gently as his tongue pressed into her mouth, longing for him to touch her, but keen to let him take the lead, for now. He felt incredible against her, the skin of his chest smooth and lightly tanned, his muscles small and compact. She ran her hands up his back and over his shoulders, feeling him shiver as her hands dug into the softness of his hair, and he pulled his mouth free, his breathing hard, forehead pressed to hers.

"Bed?" he asked roughly, and she nodded furiously.

"I have protection," she added, and he shook his head.

"No need. I bought some today. Go and lie down."

He let her go, and she backed away from him, turning to the bed and climbing onto it, still in her black lace panties. She lay back, propped up on her elbows, watching as he unfastened his belt and took off his pants. His limp was more pronounced without his cane, unsurprisingly, but he got to the bed without incident, crawling up beside her and taking her in his arms once more. His hand stroked slowly down her body, slipping into the hollow of her waist and then up over the smooth curve of her hip. He twisted his hand, pushing his fingertips underneath the waistband of her panties, and Belle gasped as his fingers slipped in between her legs.

Gold groaned at the feel of her. She was soaking, her juices coating his palm, hot and wet and slippery to the touch. It was almost too much for him, and he withdrew his hand, pulling her panties down over her hips with unseemly haste. He flicked his gaze up to meet Belle's, her eyes dark with lust, her breath coming in pants, and slid himself down the bed, pushing her legs apart and putting his mouth to her.

Belle rose up with a cry as his tongue swept through her centre, her heightened state of arousal almost at its peak. He slid his hands up her body to squeeze her breasts as he pushed his tongue inside her, drawing it out to circle her clit, then let his hands slip down over her belly and onto her inner thighs. He pushed her legs a little further apart, his tongue teasing her, slipping a forefinger inside. She ground against him, wanting more of him, wanting all of him, and he pushed another finger into her, the pad of his thumb grazing her clit, alternating with flicks of his tongue. Her fingers twisted in his hair, her hips thrusting in time with his movements, and she came with a shout, bucking against him, her entire body shaking. He groaned in appreciation, tongue swirling all around her once more, and kissed his way up her still-twitching body. She stroked his hair, wriggling in pleasure as he reached her breasts.

Gold drew a nipple into his mouth, suckling at it as his fingers stroked her gently between the legs. She was still jerking a little, little noises of pleasure coming from her, and he smiled against her skin, pleased with his work. Letting her breast slip from his mouth, he pushed himself up on his elbows, and she reached for him, her lips pushing his apart, moaning as she tasted herself on him. He slipped a finger inside her again, her flesh like wet silk.

"Oh, Belle!" he breathed. "So beautiful. Such a sweet, tight little cunt. I want you, Belle."

"Good," she murmured. "Get your pants off before I bloody explode."

He smirked, tugging off his underwear, and reached over her to pull a condom from the nightstand. She took it from him, tearing the packet and rolling it on, and the feel of her hands on his cock made him clench his jaw. He moved to lie between her legs, pressing up against her, and brushed her hair back from her face as he looked down on her. She was stunning, her sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks, her lips plump and moist, the scent of her own arousal still on her mouth from his kisses. He dimly recalled the first time he had seen her, the first time she had walked into his classroom and smiled at him, and his heart had thumped a little harder in his chest. This was it, then. This was when he crossed the line and fucked a student. If this was to be his downfall, he wanted to make the most of it.

He moved his hips a little, positioning himself, and reached down between them to guide himself in. She was wonderfully tight, her flesh gripping him hard, and he groaned as he pushed up inside her, her heat scalding him.

"Fuck!" he swore, and Belle lifted her knees, allowing him deeper, until he was all the way inside her. He slid his hands back up her body to cup her face, kissing her as he began to move, his pelvis grinding against her.

"Shit!" gasped Belle. "That feels - oh, God, that's amazing! I don't think I can - fuck!" She moved against him, quickening the pace, and he quickly began calculating the molar mass in a random set of chemical compounds to distract himself. Her fingers dug into his spine, her head pushed back, her chest heaving. He could feel her body stiffening beneath him, her muscles tensing, and she suddenly held her breath, her hips still working against his. She broke with a cry, the tension leaving her, her walls clamping down on him hard, and Gold slowed his movements a little as she rode it out, sweat beading on her forehead and her upper lip. He flicked his tongue out to taste her salt, pushing her lips apart with his and kissing her deeply, and Belle moaned and writhed beneath him, until her tremors had passed and she let out a contented purr.

He began to move again, ridding his mind of calculations, able to concentrate on the scent and feel of her. She was salt and sweet honey in his mouth, the smooth softness of silk against his skin, the scent of roses and vanilla. He hadn't anticipated how incredible she would feel beneath him, how addictive. If this was what Rush had tasted, he couldn't imagine why the man would ever agree to share her. She was lifting her knees again, almost up to her chest, letting him push inside her, letting him feel every bit of her. His hands cupped her face, fingers threading through her hair, his thrusts long and slow. He was close, he could feel it. He pulled out almost all the way, sliding back inside her, hitting that sweet spot between her legs that made her gasp and let her head roll back.

"Oh, God!" she moaned, stiffening, and he smiled into her neck, breathing in the heady scent of her.

"You feel amazing!" he breathed. "You feel so good to fuck, my little Belle."

She whimpered, clinging to him, her nails scoring his back and making him see stars.

"Please!" she gasped, and he slowed his pace a little, enjoying her yowl of frustration.

"Please what, sweetheart?" he whispered. "Do you want to come again?"

She nodded, unable to speak, and he quickened his pace again, feeling his own climax approaching.

"God, that's so fucking good!" he gasped. "Belle, I can't hold this, I can't!"

She looked up at him, chewing her lip, her eyes bright with lust.

"Come inside me," she whispered, and he let himself fall.

He came hard, white light bursting in his head, shouting as he pulsed inside her. She reached her own climax again from the feel of it, clenching around him and pulling him in, her nails raking furrows in his shoulders that were going to make him wince later on. She was writhing beneath him, her hips bucking, little moans falling from her mouth as her movements slowed and stopped. He took a few minutes to compose himself, his face pushed into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, trying to steady his breath as he inhaled her, a thin sheen of perspiration between their bodies. Eventually, he pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at her. She was gazing up at him with drowsy eyes, a warm, satisfied grin on her face.

"That," she murmured. "Was fucking incredible, Professor Gold. Why the hell didn't we do this earlier?"

Because I never would have thought you were interested, and I didn't want to be fired, he thought. Aloud he said: "Well, I suppose we have some lost time to make up."

"Mmm." She stretched languorously, her breasts rubbing deliciously against his chest. "I think my brains fell out, by the way. That's really not going to help when it comes to finals."

"Hm." He was amused. "If it's any consolation, mine blew out of the back of my skull, so I imagine the curriculum won't be too taxing from this point on."

Belle giggled, biting her lip as she looked up at him. She reached up, stroking his hair back from his face, and suddenly looked a little unsure.

"You don't regret it, do you?" she asked. "I know you think it's a risk, but I won't tell anyone, I swear. Not even Ruby. I'd never get you in trouble."

"Regret it?" He shook his head with a faint smile. "Belle, that was the single most erotic moment of my entire, miserable life. The Dean could strip me naked and run me around the football field before kicking me out permanently and I would still call this the best rule I've ever broken."

She looked pleased, kissing him, and settled back in the bed, wriggling a little to get comfortable. She shivered a little, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Cold?"

"Kind of. Sleepy, mainly."

He moved out of her slowly, standing up and limping to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he returned, he was pleased to see that she had gotten beneath the covers, and he crawled in beside her, spooning up against her back and pulling her close. Belle sighed contentedly, relaxing in his arms, and he kissed her shoulder as she drifted into sleep.


She was gone when he awoke, a scribbled note thanking him, and explaining that she had to get back before her roommate returned and started asking awkward questions. She had made him coffee, and he smiled as he sipped it, remembering the scent of her pleasure, the sweetness of her mouth, the softness of her beneath him.

He didn't usually go into the university on a Saturday, but that day he thought he'd make an exception. Passing by Dr Rush's office, he had a thought, and ducked into his own office for a yellow sticky note. Scrawling a quick line on it, he slipped back outside and stuck it on Rush's door. Three times, was all the note said, with his initials beneath. He smirked to himself, walking down to the lab to check his supplies for Monday's classes.

It was perhaps two hours later when he made his way back to his office, and found a note on his own door.

Not a bad effort, it said. But quantity is not necessarily an indication of quality.

Gold frowned. Arrogant little shit. It appeared he wasn't backing off. So be it.


A/N: I've decided I'm enjoying this verse.