AN: anyway here's a gross sex chapter because I love these two.

nsfw; violence, sex, mentions of rape and abuse


He wants to be, for lack of a better term, her Prince Charming. Wants to be stronger for her, braver for her. She should have a deity of love and the least he can do is be his best self around her.

She's never asked for a knight in shining armour, in fact she's said she's spurned the love of many, but he can't help feeling unworthy. She deserves better.

He acts the part around her, always. He kisses her hand and holds her gently and never makes a move until she does. He knows they aren't off to the purest start (she's laying, unwed and undressed, beside him), but he wants to act, as much as a devil can, like their relationship is holy.

She is unimpressed with his efforts. Acting the part isn't enough. Glamor's an easy charm, a few seconds and he's perfect. Blond hair and blue eyes and bright smile. He dresses himself in silver armor. His skin is human. He is the man she should love. He holds his arms out as she enters the room and holds his breath as she looks him up and down.

She hates it. He can see it in her eyes. Contempt and disgust and "Is… is that you?" He nods, reaching a hand out to her. She pushes it away angrily. "Stop it", she practically spits the words.

He doesn't understand, normally she has such high expectations, wants everything from him, wants the world. "Don't you like it? Lacey, sweetpea, shh, I want to be beautiful for you, don't you want that?"

"You know I don't" Her words are hard. "I want you, darling". She pulls him close but won't look up at him, just staring down at the floor.

"You have me. But you deserve the best possible version of me"

"I have the best possible version of you" she whined. They kneel on the cold stone floor and her wandering hand is soft to his new, human cheeks. "I want my dark one, not some doe-eyed prince. Honey, I love all of you, not just, you know, the good parts or the pretty parts"

As the glamor fades, her smile returns, but there is still a look of betrayal in her eyes. "I'm sorry", he murmurs, and she nods, tiredly. "I should have known better". He promises not to bring it up again. She kisses him softly, and he understands.


She's happier than she ever could have believed with him, wrapped up in his furs and leathers and dark magic. All her life morality and righteousness had come before her, and suddenly in front of her was someone who put her above everything, who'd give her the whole universe strewn about at her feet.

He puts so much effort into trying to be gentle, trying to be good and kind for her. He holds her patiently or kisses her like silent rainfall, pulling away if he ever lets himself grow to… dark. And as incredible as being with him is already, she wishes he wouldn't hold back, wishes he'd love her like rage and passion and power. She figures he'll see it eventually, give her what they both want.

Of course if being a light-filled lover is what truly makes him happy then so it'll stay, she wants so desperately to please him.


Before long, all the kingdoms in all the worlds hear of the young maiden, stolen away by the beast to be his bride. Knights and princes and all of the most valiant men come to rescue her , most hoping to win the lovely Lacey's hand for their act

The first few he pays no mind to, makes them into roses to give to his love as presents. They sit in vases around the castle, reminders. Soon, though, they become more frequent and more… angering. Rumplestiltskin is a jealous man and just the idea of one of these little princes running off with what is his disgusts him to his core. Perhaps if he was more rational, he would have seen how unreasonable such an idea was, that she would never, not in all her life, give a second to her handsome heros, but for a genius, he wasn't all that smart.

He's careful about when and where he kills them, hurts them, tortures them. He loves their screams but he figures his little Lacey won't. She deserves better. No matter the situation it's all he can think about: She deserves better.

He's cutting up a lovely young man, Sir Robert, when he hears footsteps behind him. He swallows, dread replacing his blood. Of course he knows who it is.

"Lace, I…" She stares at him, and in the dark he can't read like he wishes he could.

Her voice is quiet when she finally breaks the silence. "So you really are as dark as they say", and he feels his heart become sand. He turns back to the man. Needing someone else to blame and now without anything to lose, he continues his flaying.

"Darker dearie. Much darker" he mutters. It doesn't matter now, all he has left is rage. He must have lost her, he thinks. How could she forgive this? It's disgusting. He is disgusting. She deserves better.

Then he feels her arms slink over his shoulders and her warm bosom push against his back. He's confused, but really, he shouldn't be. It's not as though she's some maiden clad in white, happy in some ivory tower. Her breath is warm in his ear as she whispers to him. "Oh magic man, did you think I'd be upset? I told you, I love all of you. I knew what to expect when I fell for the dark one." She continues, her voice saturated with sin and succulence and love "And I mean, this man was trying to steal what belongs to you, it's only right that you protect me. Sweet, I-"

He pulls her to him and kisses her, unable to want anything but to touch her. He feels her smile against his lips and realizes all at once how closed-off and afraid he's been. He's angry now that he knows just what he's been missing out on.

Acceptance isn't all that's there in her ocean eyes, there's reverence too. She look at him, not for the first time but maybe for the most notable, like he's a deity. His heart skips a beat.

She holds his hand and splays her fingers over his chest, gasping intermittently, as he beats the man to death. Blood stains her long dark skirts. She doesn't mind.

"Take me?" There it is, her pleading voice. He smirks at her, bloodied hands running up and down her heaving torso. Her rescuers last breaths are a chorus, urging him onward.

"Beg for it", he whispers, and she does, arms around his neck, eyelids hooded with lust, leaning on him because her legs are weak and shaking. He adores the effect he has on her. After about of minute of biting her skin and teasing her heart, of her mewling words of want, he whisks them onto his bed (he's sure she'd love fucking right there in the dungeon, in the blood, but another time) and pulls her right against him. He isn't polite or gentle that night, allowing himself to ravish her, to ravage, to love her. He rips her clothing to shreds, makes her cry out as he has her. Slipping in and out of her, grasping her, leaving bruises and bite marks. She whispers the whole time about how perfect he is, how strong and powerful, about how he can do anything to anyone and she'll stand by him, loving and loyal. He loves Lacey stroking his cock, but not nearly as much as his ego.


He makes it official, with a ring and everything. He even gets down on one knee. She laughs and nods and he picks her up and buries his head against her neck. In a puff of smoke she's in a red dress (white wouldn't really be fitting), all gossamer and lace, nearly translucent and so luxurious, dragging long on the ground. She expects he's dolled her up for some ceremony to ease his heart, so he can hear her promise him forever in a kinder context than the first time. In a way, she was right. It's more about what he calls her wedding gift, though, than some sanctimonious vows. When she looks behind him, across the room, Rum kissing her cheek and shoulder and neck, she sees a sack, struggling as though someone was inside.

"Sweetheart, what…" With a wave of his hand the burlap falls away to reveal a figure all too familiar to Lacey.

Gaston is gagged, hands and legs tied, and she can practically feel Rumplestiltskin's grin as his hand finds it's way past the slit in her skirt that ran up her left leg. "Do you like your present?" He whispers in her ear, and she just moans in return, letting his fingers push her thighs apart and slip inside of her. "What kind of lover would I be if I couldn't give you your vengeance, my sweet bride?" She's mewling now, as his free hand holds some invisible rope, pulling her past abuser toward them slowly. She leans back against him as his fingers toy with her, lips humming against her skin. He lifts his head, eyes narrowing as he gazes at the man now a mere few feet from them. He spits at him, holding Lacey tighter against him now. "Look you pathetic man, Lace's my little wife now" She loves his possessiveness, it makes her feel butterflies and wasps in her stomach. She turns her head around and pushes her lips to his, whimpering into his mouth as he plays with her flower-bud. This is perfect. This is everything she can imagine.

"Here's a spell I'm sure you'll love darling" and she feels magic spill over them. "For every bit of pleasure you feel, he'd feel pain." She nods frantically, so close, before he pulls his hand out from her dress. She gasps at the loss of his fingers, but figures it won't be a long wait for their replacement.

Behind them now is an enormous pillow and they fall backward, relaxing into their wedding night. Rumplestiltskin pulls blood out of the air and paints patterns on his bride's flushed cheeks. Her head falls back on his shoulder in bliss. He's so glad he can make her so happy. There's fear in the little knight's eyes, and it's intoxicating.

With a bit of magic the gag is gone and he loves the affect the poor man's screams and pleas have an his sweetpea. She's squirming in his lap, backside against him making him, somehow, even harder.

He spreads her legs and soon he's buried in her, holding her tight in his lap. He's slower than usual, savoring the build up as pain steadily grows within her ex-betrothed. She's so warm and wet and desperate. She's so soft and sadistic. Words flow helplessly from her lips; "I love you, I need you, oh my magic man, my husband, my love" He smirks, satisfied, as he watches the life drain from the husk before them.

"Please, stop", he coughs up blood.

"Did you stop when she begged you?" His words came out more emotional than he'd meant, and her breath quickens and her eyes flutter shut.

One of his hands now is splayed over her neck and collarbone, pulling her against him and choking her gently. He loves feeling her gasp. She's almost there and he knows it. He growls wedding vows in her ear and kisses down her jaw as she sobs pieces of them back to him. He releases in her moments before she finally falls over her precipice, his arms tight around her and the dead man's screams hanging in the air and drowning out her own.

Their wedding night continues for hours. He is… violent with her, in the most loving and tender way possible. She loves it, comes most loudly when he's monstrous to her, when he devours her whole. She submits to him luxuriously, happily, wantonly. By the time the two drift to sleep, she is sanguine and sated.