Belle's worst fears came to life. Zelena returned the next day and the following and the day after that; the girl hated every second of her presence in the castle as her visits grew longer and longer and her dresses more revealing to the point where she knew the colour of the intruder's underthings without putting any effort into it. She could not utter a word against the woman as she had been nauseatingly polite with her when Rumpelstiltskin was there but it got even worse when she began to realize that the master enjoyed that company. Despite usually being sent away when the witch was around, Belle walked in on the couple once or twice. Seeing the woman curled around her master like poisonous ivy, her sinfully red lips whispering things into his ear that made the man chuckle turned the girl's stomach sick. She knew she should feel relieved as she was left to herself, but instead of experiencing any satisfaction, Belle's mind would wonder back and replay the scene where her master's hands accidentally or purposefully caressed the luscious curves of the woman's body.
The master still took care of her, of course, but he did it briefly without giving her more time than was absolutely necessary. He no longer cared to learn how to read the tongue of the first men and Belle found she missed his complaints about "the letters being too bloody difficult and R's looking like P except for the small tricky tail on the bottom." She wasn't allowed to his chambers nor to his turret and they spent very little time together. When the collar began getting heated, sending occasional sharp jolts of pain through her limbs, she was ordered to wait and tolerate it; mistress Zelena – she demanded to be referred to that way – didn't approve of any activities unless they could no longer be delayed. It got to the point where Belle fell sick, the fever eating her alive and master had to use magic and potions on her as well as giving in and letting himself to be pleased so that the curse would back off and relieve her of pain.
But above the physical discomfort the girl couldn't stand the coldness and indifference. She was no longer talked to, which make her both angry and sad at the attention Zelena was getting; not because she wanted to be in her position, but… Well, in truth, Belle didn't know why. When the master called for her that night, she rushed to him, her heart singing with anticipation only to find that Zelena was there, smirking at her from behind her master's shoulder, as he let her toy with the ends of his hair.
"I don't need you anymore, dearie," he said gruffly without any kind of prelude and his words lashed at her, knocking the wind out of her lungs with their harshness. Zelena snorted at the confusion and pain that contorted her face and nuzzled the master's cheek with her nose affectionately. "You belong to Zelena now and I want you to obey every single command she gives you."
"That's right, sweetie," she cooed to him, draping her arms around his middle possessively only to show who was in charge here. "I am yours, my love, and you," she glanced at Belle and the girl shook seeing the woman's eyes glow unnaturally as if some demonic fire burned behind her dilated pupils and her voice turned into a hiss, "you, doll, are mine."
Zelena approached her slowly, the click of her heels muffled by the carpet. She towered over Belle, her boots and the dangerous power she radiated making the girl feel insignificant.
"On the second thought though," she murmured softly, grasping the chain and wrapping it around Belle's throat just above the band of the collar. Her other hand was tangled in her hair, pulling it down so hard Belle had to blink tears from her eyes. "I think I'll pass. I do not require a servant." She suddenly yanked on it, tightening the loop around the girl's neck; the silver bit into her skin, cutting the air off and the unborn scream died in her throat. She clawed at her neck but a barked 'no!' made her stop. She couldn't breathe or call for help, her vision swam and the only sound she heard was Zelena's victorious giggle echoing in her head.
Her chest expanded as she inhaled, her mind alert and her body sweaty and shaking, feeling too warm under the heavy blanket. She was ready to spring up and flee, but the darkness of the room was different from the one in her dream. Of course, that's all it was, just a trick of her mind playing on the subconscious fear of Zelena. Belle tried to calm down, wincing at the feel of her hair sticking to her damp skin and her legs being tangled in her own nightgown. When she had almost convinced herself there was no danger or a monster that could jump from under the bed, Belle heard a grunt. A heavy hand handed on her side, curling around her middle and effortlessly sliding her across the bed. She had little time to realize what was happening, when her back came in contact with a body. The arm, restraining her, kept her pinned against someone's torso and she froze as something hard pressed against her lower back. The man groaned at the contact and threw his leg over her thighs.
Oh no, she woke up only to find that she was in another nightmare, the one that had been haunting her for years: hands, holding her in place, and a heavy body pushing her into the mattress; it meant that master Gaston would not be satisfied with her mouth or her hand today. The man stirred again and Belle snapped out of her impediment spell. She shrieked and kicked, trying to throw him off. It was futile and silly, but it would delay the terror at least for a little while, allowing her to brace herself and shut her senses off; or, perhaps, he'd become too angry or opt for punishing her some other way instead.
Miraculously, she had succeeded at getting away, despite half-expecting her nightgown to be grabbed as he'd reach for her; Belle managed to scoot several feet away until her back connected with the cold wall and she found herself in the corner of the bed. She couldn't see him and she was too afraid to run in case he was waiting at the door; he would laugh and tease her, grasping her in a bone crushing embrace and whispering hotly in her ear what a good girl she was for coming to him so eagerly. Belle whimpered and covered her head, the rush of blood and her heart being so loudly she couldn't detect his breathing to know how far he was.
"Dearie, what is it?" a hoarse voice, not the one she expected but familiar nevertheless, made her shiver. "Are you alright?"
She sobbed dryly, her mind too numb to prompt her where she was. She saw the candle flame flickering to life and looked at the dark figure kneeling next to her. The man was definitely smaller, his long hair and leaner body even in dim light giving away that he was not master Gaston.
"What happened?" he asked worriedly but made no move to reach for her. "Did you have a nightmare?"
Belle slowly lowered her hands and nodded, her body still tight as a bowstring. Some of the tension left her when the man sighed and leaned against the headboard, the harsh lines of his profile reassuring her that the visions her brain provided indeed were just a dream.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Rumpelstiltskin asked carefully and she wetted her lips, uncertain whether she needed to speak of it or bury it in the corners of her mind. "What scared you?"
Belle shifted her eyes to his lower body to find out that the thing that had frightened her was, in fact, still there.
"Y-you," she stuttered, swallowing with difficulty and Rumple followed the direction of her stare.
"Sweet goblin," he squeaked indignantly, fumbling to cover himself and pulling the blanket up to his chin; he appeared more uncomfortable than she was. "I am sorry about… that," he said with embarrassment. "Had to bloody happen tonight," he murmured before looking around miserably. "Where did the pillows go?"
Belle shrugged but then noticed them piled up at the foot of the bed. Probably one of them managed to kick the pillows out of the way.
"Dearie, it's still early. Please try to get same sleep," Rumple said with a sigh, patting the spot to his right and rubbing his eyes with his left hand, trying to supress a yawn. "I am not going to do anything."
She couldn't come up with excuse not to and the cold from leaning against the wall began seeping through the cotton of her shirt, so she lifted the corner of the blanket, crawling under carefully so that their bodies didn't touch. Rumpelstiltskin didn't seem to mind and he slid lower against the headboard, adjusting his pillow and fluffing it up a little. Belle relaxed when she realized he wasn't going to paw at her, feeling grateful for him leaving the light on, but sleep refused to come.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, turning onto her side to look at the man.
"Mhmm? What does?" he drawled groggily, opening his eyes and meeting her eloquent stare. She looked down at his abdomen pointedly, where the blanket lay completely flat and harmless before diverting them back up to his face. "Oh. No it doesn't," he replied awkwardly which only seemed to make her more curious.
"Why does it happen?" she pressed and Rumpelstiltskin groaned, covering his face with his hands. He made a snort that turned into an exasperated moan when his arms dropped back onto the sheet. Belle bit her lip, thinking she should probably apologize but the man turned onto his side, facing her.
"It's a natural reaction that occurs in a man's body due to the cyclic changes of balance in the composition of his blood," he said calmly. "If you are really into the scientific side of it, I could find you a book," he suggested and the girl shrugged.
"Does it happen often?" she knew she was trying her master's patience but he didn't seem upset or annoyed.
"I don't know, I am usually asleep at those hours. I uh… I guess I should have warned you," he added clumsily, "but I hadn't foreseen that… erm… possibility."
Belle watched him with awe while he made his artless excuse; she could quite grasp why he was the one apologizing when she woke him up before dawn. Her eyes searched his face, trying to understand how he could look so fierce but be so timid at times. He frowned but didn't say a word when she wiggled closer, feeling the heat from his body but not quite touching it and raised her hand, slowly reaching to push aside a wisp of hair from his forehead. His hair was a bit coarse and tangled from sleep and her master's skin was warmer than hers and a little grainy. He didn't object as her fingertips gingerly traced an arch from his temple to his cheekbone, feather-light as if a simple touch could hurt him. Rumpelstiltskin drew a sigh when his lids fluttered closed and then slid her fingers over them, smiling a little as his long lashes tickled them.
The skin on his chin and cheeks felt no different from the rest of his face, making her wonder if he grew hair like she knew other men did. She followed the contour of his thin lips, barely touching the softer skin there. Belle paused at the funny sensation of the air he exhaled ghosting over her digits but then her eyes widened.
"Why is it doing it again?" she whispered and Rumpelstiltskin moved away, mumbling yet another word of apology.
"Because you were touching me," he explained and her eyebrows flew up.
"Touching can do that?" she repeated incredulously and he chuckled.
"I am afraid so, dearie," Rumple said, covering her hand with his palm. "Tell me, how does it feel when I touch you?"
Her breath hitched as she expected the man to put her hand on him there, but he just held her hand loosely in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.
"It's… it's warm," Belle said as he massaged the centre of her palm, "and tickles a little."
"Does it feel good?" he asked, gently sliding his thumb down her fingers and back up, following the lines and creases of her palm.
"It's nice," Belle managed to say before his fingers slid under the cuff of her sleeve, teasing the tender skin there. Rumpelstiltskin undid two buttons, pushing the shackles up and exposing her wrist; the girl gasped when his hot lips pressed to her pulse point.
"Master mustn't do such things," she stammered, mortified all of a sudden and he let her hand slip from his grip.
"Why?" he purred, his voice vibrating in his chest as he regarded her from half-hooded eyes.
"B-because it's shameful," she blurted out, blushing at the words she didn't dare to say. Because her hands were good for scrubbing floors and cleaning her master's shoes and not kisses as if they were something precious.
"Shameful? What if I enjoy doing something shameful like that?" he drawled but dropped his playfulness at her answer.
"Then Belle must obey."
"You believe it when I say I wouldn't hurt you," he asked anxiously, watching her face closely. "Don't you?"
The girl hesitated, because the collar would prevent her from telling her master a blunt lie but at the same time she couldn't relate to the notion of being completely safe.
"Master would not hurt Belle intentionally," she remarked and he smiled sadly.
"Fair enough," he said, the corners of his mouth drooping. "But I wouldn't do it either intentionally or by mistake."
His palm cupped her cheek and Belle grasped his hand to keep it there. The way he looked at her was unusual – not the sliding glance or those who pretended not to notice her collar or diverted their eyes instantly; not the scornful or disapproving attention she was used to getting, curiosity bordering on rudeness or the dangerous glare of someone who wanted to use her. Rumpelstiltskin regarded her calmly and the girl felt like he really was trying to see her – not what she could become if he bent her to his will or what he wanted her to be; he was putting effort into understanding her and accepting her flaws.
She could feel him twitch against her thigh, still hard, but the man didn't seem to be bothered by his state. Belle used to think that once aroused, males had to act on it immediately, seeking satisfaction single-mindedly but her master's touch was as gentle and considerate of her as ever. She knew it could change, of course, and he could decide to quit playing and just impale her on his manhood, but for now the girl didn't feel threatened; it was merely inconvenient to be poked by the protruding part of him.
She felt a thrill shoot down her spine as he lightly dragged nails along the nape of her neck, her eyes almost rolling back in her head. It was unexcitingly pleasant and she couldn't hold back a sigh as he did it again. Her stomach tightened in an odd way as he kept touching her and stroking her hair, altering between firm pressure of his fingers and teasing graze of his nails. Rumpelstiltskin's hand stopped at the neck of her nightgown, tweaking the button before popping it free from the tiny loop. His thumb stroked the hollow at the base of her throat and the girl squirmed; his touch was unsettling, making her feel too hot as if the warmth of his body seeped through her skin and spread across her in lazy waves. His fingers backed away, feeling the side of her neck and reaching up into her hair before dancing along her jawline. He quickly undid another button, moving down the row of smooth beads with surprising agility but stopped when no more than two inches of her chest had been exposed. He shifted, propping himself on his right elbow for some leverage and watched his fingertips draw invisible patterns on her bared flesh.
"W-what is master going to do?" she croaked, her voice rusty all of a sudden when the whisper of his breath caressed her skin.
"Some very, very shameful thing," he replied and his dry lips pressed to a tender spot just under her chin.
All Belle managed was a surprised oh; she whimpered when he didn't stop, marking her with a trail of chaste unhurried kisses that send a jolt of meek excitement through her. She somehow felt wicked for allowing him to continue and while her mind ordered her to stop, her body disobeyed and arched shamelessly, granting the man full access to her neck. He nibbled on her skin, his parted chapped lips carefully pinching the sensitive skin and her moan turned into a low hiss. She was overwhelmed by the stimulation and emotions that crushed down on her; Belle realized it wasn't anything out of line and if the collar called to her, she'd be more open and confident, probably too happy to be on the receiving end of such affections but at the moment it seemed like too much. The first stroke of his rough tongue made the girl jump.
"Master," she begged, uncertain how she could put in words and placed a hand against his chest, making him stop abruptly.
"Did I hurt you?" his voice was thick and his heart thudded against his ribs like a caged bird trying to escape. Was he impatient or as nervous and confused as she?
"No, it just feels funny," she said clumsily, feeling stupid as soon as her lips formed those words. Because it was wonderful and a bit intimidating; what if he desired more? What if he wouldn't?
"Was I… too forceful?" he asked airily but his racing heart gave away his pretence.
"No, it's just…" her fingers crumpled the fabric of his nightshirt and she tried to smooth it out apologetically when her mind was completely blank and provided no accurate words for explaining herself. "It's new," she said shyly as the man dropped back against the pillows with a soft uttered ah. "But good new," she reassured him although she saw he wasn't even slightly convinced. She felt guilty for making him stop and annoyed she didn't just go with it.
"Sorry," she blurted, biting her tongue in case she said anything beyond that and only made things worse.
"Would it be easier if you were in charge? If we did only what you wanted to do?"
Belle shrugged, the idea of her deciding things for the master almost preposterous. He sighed when he took note of her hesitation.
"Sleep?" he offered tentatively for the second time that night but she took a deep breath.
"No." She froze in horror as she expected the magic to punish her for disobedience or her master to snap at her; the man however arched an eyebrow at her and put his arm behind his head, eyes crinkling with a hint of amusement.
"No? What do you suggest then?"
"This," the girl replied simply, reaching for the cords that held his shirt together.
"Dearie, we don't have to do it. I am fine with sleep." His hold on her hand wasn't strong and she pulled her wrist free.
"No. But as most of the time there is no choice at all, can't it be Belle's decision tonight?"
It was illogical, something she couldn't explain to herself but when her cool hands returned into the opening of his shirt, the man didn't object. She caressed him through the fabric, but the material crumbled and got in the way, but it still was… titillating. Belle felt the heat and the quickened rush of blood and strange excitement as her fingers lingered on his skin, tracing the protruding collarbones. Did it feel good for him to be touched or did he just tolerate her? She knew what exactly she had to do to please her master but she began suspecting there could be other ways too. He squeezed his lips tight as her hand slid down the middle of his stomach and the notion that she could leave him vulnerable and wanting with something as simple as that made her feel a little dizzy. It was a strange sort of power, the one he could turn against her but she believed that if he hadn't attempted to do anything this far, he wasn't going to. After all, the girl could take up on his offer but the little imp on her shoulder made her proceed.
His body was gawky; sharp angles and protruding bones, even if she knew it was deceptive. There was magic in him and even if the tenth of bits and pieces of rumours she had heard was true, great and terrifying magic. It had to be true for the echo of the gossip to travel across the lands.
The thin shirt gave away that even under it, the skin was bumpy and rough like sandpaper; as far as she could tell, the fine scales on his face moulded into larger ones. His breathing was labored, resonating in her ears together with the hiss off her hands sliding over his nightshirt. The rim of her hand accidentally nudged his manhood and he made a strained noise while her mouth went suddenly dry. Did she really want to do it? Was it even wise to try her luck like this?
Her fingers moved of their own accord, making the decision before her mind allowed any more doubts. Her palm slid down his thigh and below his knee, clasping the fabric in her fist and bringing it up slowly. Belle shot a glimpse at her master's face and his eyes, despite the panic, looked hopeful, but the man quickly dropped his head back onto the pillow, screwing his eyes shut. His face contorted when hips were exposed; the expression that could be interpreted both as ashamed or midly irritated at her deliberation.
Releasing the bundled up fabric, the girl glanced down at his crotch; her master looked… ordinary almost disappointingly so. Not that she expected something shockingly unusual, but thinking of him as a man, similar to others even with his uncommon looks was just… quirky. She couldn't bring herself to touch him there directly and her fingertips followed the tension building in the muscle in his leg, nothing that where her own skin was covered in soft fuzz, her master's body remained hairless, covered in coarse bumps and ridges. Did the roughness imply less sensitivity or was it quite the opposite? She moved her hand up in a half-arc, carefully avoiding his mandood in favour of stroking his quivering stomach as he involuntarily bucked up, seeking more touch.
"Dearie," he groaned and she froze, her hunch prompting the girl a command would follow. She had allowed herself too many liberties; her master grew tired of this game and wished his relief. "Please," he said too quietly and she couldn't believe what she heard. Rumple's tongue darted out to moisturize his cracked lips and although his voice carried more confidently, he still seemed to beg instead of order. "Lower, Belle, please…"
She hesitated for a heartbeat but still no pain from disobeying her master came; it wasn't his intent to make her do it and the thrill of excitement shot down her spine at the realization it was still her choice. Her hand closed around him, feeling the flesh, hard as an iron bar, covered by softer delicate skin. Her master made a choked noise, biting onto the index finger of his left hand to prevent himself from eliciting whimpers and whines from his throat. Her face getting more and more heated, Belle looked down at her hand. It was shorter than master Gaston's, enabling her to cover it fully with two hands placed one above the other, but plumper too, so that the tips of her fingers, wrapped about it, didn't meet her palm.
She moved her hand up slowly, feeling the skin shift from root to the tip under her manipulation, gasping at the twitch she felt in response. She did the same thing in the opposite direction and Rumpelstiltskin's hand came to rest on the small of her back. He didn't try to grab for her or do anything to suggest she should change what she was doing, so Belle settled for measured long tugs and pulls. His hand rotated a little and she felt little sparks of pleasure vibrate through her, filling her with a deliciously subtle tickling sensation. He strengthened the touch of magic, letting in flow into her body steadily and Belle yelped at the stinging that bit onto her skin around her collar and shackles.
"What is it? Did I hurt you?" he asked quickly for the second time this night, making her giggle nervously at the déjà vu feeling.
"No, it's just…" her free hand flew to her collar, raising it up and pulling it away from her neck and his eyes narrowed.
"My fault. I didn't anticipate my magic contradicting the fairy's," he mumbled with a sigh and she just blinked at him, puzzled at how concerned he sound for her sake, when all she expected him to care about was… Her right hand made a little twist and his breath hitched again, almost making her smile at how effortlessly she made him moan. Rumple's fingers twisted in the sheets and his hips began jerking upwards into her grip; it seemed beyond him to remain still. She tried to accustom to his pace, increasing the tempo as his thrusts became needy and erratic. He snarled and she held her hand still, watching him erupt onto her hand, the hot fluid landing on her skin and polluting his own.
Belle waited for the tremors to subside before she released him, wiping her hand off on her nightshirt discreetly to get rid of the wet stickiness. He wrapped his hand around her waist, coaxing her down as he turned onto his side to rest his forehead against hers. His skin was clammy but it didn't bother her as much as his need for closeness and touch.
"Do you…" he began, his hand sliding along her side and she shivered more of an instinct than a conscious thing.
"No, master," she whispered, too aware he asked to be… well, polite and considerate rather than actually willing to spend time touching her in attempt to prove he was still interested after he was spent. The girl knew men liked women to pretend they enjoyed their touch; although, if she thought of it, her master's affections were overwhelmingly confusing, yet it was not an indication he cared about her comfort.
"Ah, you prefer the Dark One to be indebted to you, hmm? You sly thing," he tapped his finger on her nose but her eyes widened with dread.
"Belle didn't meant it like that, Belle is sor…"
"It was a joke, dearie," he huffed, sitting up to wave his hands over himself to fix the rumpled clothing.
Luckily, he was in good enough of a mood not to keep a grudge and pulled the blanket over them, perfectly satisfied and not trying to grab her into an embrace. The man's breathing became shallow and even rather quickly, but a quarter an hour after he fell asleep, he reached for her again. Belle scooted away from his arms, looking at the man closely to determine if he was pretending to be asleep but finding that his face was too serene to pass it for fake sleep. His mouth was slacked and he somehow appeared vulnerable, making an unfamiliar tenderness coil in her chest. The girl dismissed the ridiculous notion as soon as it crossed her mind. There was no tenderness or feelings towards her master; she was simply grateful he didn't force her to do things she might not welcome.
Belle raised herself up on her elbow, studying his face more intently. What if?
Gently not to startle him awake, she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. She straightened to look at his face, but nothing happened except for the man scrunching his nose up as her hair swept his face.
She dropped her head back onto the pillow, several minutes passing in silence before he stirred and draped his body around hers. Pushing him away would be useless and she judt stayed still, willing her body not to go into paniced shivering; the even puffs of air on the base of her neck eventually calmed her down. Maybe, if she thought of it and tried to rationalize, she'd find that it was actually pleasant. She saw it as an invasion of her personal space, a threat, but perhaps it was the opposite – a gesture of protection, trying to fend them from the rest of the world. Yes, if she viewed it like that, the embrace might seem peaceful. The sleep took hold of her softly, being warm and protected in the cocoon of her master's arms serving as a charm against bad dreams for the rest of the night.