A/N: Sorry again for the delay, this chapter kind of got away from me. This ch. alone is like 30 pages and nearly 14,000 words and I hope you enjoy them all. :)) Definitely an E rating for this chapter. I also did things a bot differently as most of the story (both past and present) is told from Gold's POV. Enjoy :)
He'd woken earlier than usual with a restless energy crackling through his limbs. He tried to attribute it to lack of sleep, but he knew it was something else. It was Emma, either that or his darkness was reacting to her light magic. It would have been nice to be able to pretend that was the case, but his waking thoughts were occupied by the feel of her soft lips on his, her eager hands pulling at his hair, and how perfectly her body molded to his. Clearing the thoughts from his mind he appeared in the tower, relieved to find that Emma wasn't there.
Without her there to tease and tempt him, he took full advantage of the opportunity to focus only on finding her a way home. Every moment she was here all of their futures were in jeopardy, not to mention his sanity. He lost himself in the tomes of magic; Belle had come with breakfast, which he ate and cleared away, and Emma was still nowhere in sight. This was good, he thought, reminding himself that he wanted to be alone.
Although, as time ticked on, he was discovering just how distracting her absence actually was, as his curiosity was driving him mad. What magic and mischief was she getting herself into? The idea that she was searching for his dagger entered his mind, and he left in search of her; ignoring his own good sense, drawn like a scent hound after prey. His demeanor remained casual and aloof as he appeared in her bedroom, only to find it empty and the bed made. He appeared in the main hall to find Belle polishing the dining table.
"Where is she?" The maid didn't even look up.
"I haven't seen her since dinner last night," came the curt reply. Rumpel turned to go, then stopped, spinning on his heels.
"What is it you have against her?" Belle looked up, genuinely surprised at his question.
"Nothing. I don't even know her."
"Then drop that scowl that hasn't left your face since she arrived."
He checked the tower once more, just in case she was waiting for him to leave it, but she was of course, not there. Then it occurred to him, and in a flash he was outside the castle walls.
He should've known he'd find her outside given how often she'd complained of being cooped up. It was a sunny day, but dismally cold and she was hardly dressed appropriately. Her hands lacked gloves, her skin red with the cold, and she wore a deep green velvet robe, not unlike her father's. She stood by the stream that ran through the mountains near his castle, having separated the water into two separate walls that were climbing higher and higher. She was learning quickly, perhaps a little too quickly. At this rate she might surpass him and then she would no longer require his help. The thought made him cringe; he is not yet ready to be rid of her presence here.
She must have felt his approach because she glanced over her shoulder at him, laughing hysterically. "I feel like Moses!"
"Who?" he asked, standing behind her, ignoring the twinge of excitement in his gut.
"The guy who parted…" she looked at him, "Never mind. Just a myth from my world." She turned back to the water, not dropping her hands; the break in her focus to speak with him did not affect the magic she was performing. She was indeed learning too fast.
He was close enough to catch the subtle scent of flowers as the wind blew passed them. All her long hair was pulled into a loose bun; the blonde, loose wisps of curls escaping and drifting along the nape of her neck distracted him. If he could just tear his eyes away from...
When his gaze finally focused on the magic she performed and they fell into relative silence, he thought he had won and overcome the distraction.
That was until the soft scent of flowers drifted towards him again, mixed with some mysterious other thing that he instinctively knew was her, waking a sudden hunger that ached where he thought he'd lost all taste, leaving him dizzy; stunned. That's when he realized that not only was he still capable of noticing anything feminine, but he was now completely and irrevocably focused on one particular woman. He had to catch his sudden intake of breath.
The logical half of his mind told him to turn and leave now, but the other half needed to feel – he needed to taste – just once. Mesmerized, he stared at the base of her throat where her pulse beat, where all that life and power rushed through her veins, calling out to him. He took one small step and bent his head, his mouth finding the soft flesh on her neck. He meant just to taste – just one small taste, but the surge of possession took over, and he was biting down, his teeth sinking gently into her unblemished skin, caressing it with his lips, claiming it.
A sharp gasp escaped her and his arm wrapped firm around her waist, catching her as she fell back against him. The walls of water came crashing back to the ground, her focus broken. The shame of her refusal and rejection never came, because in fact, she wasn't fighting him. She was actually absorbing him, drawing him in. The thread of light intensified, burning behind his closed eyes, threatening to consume him whole.
He released her in a wave of panic and returned to the tower in a puff of smoke. His body trembled in fear, anticipation, arousal, and confusion; he should never have left in search of her. His chest rose and fell in quick pants, slightly dizzy until he could catch his breath. Rational thought returned when the raging heat in his body began to subside; he'd just fled like a coward and left her there. He could've hurt her; she probably hated him and was on her to tell him just that. He shook his head, burying his face in his hands.
The women who raised him told him often to respect women, and he always did. He never hurt Milah while they were married, nor Cora. He'd been a bastard and broken hearts of the women he made deals with, preying on their fears and affections. But he had never been physically violent like that...never had he done such a thing to a woman, and Emma especially didn't deserve it. He knew this, but he couldn't unhear her soft gasp as his teeth bit into her skin; the barely audible moan, that strange feeling that she was accepting him – utterly and completely.
He waited for her to come charging in, naming him for the monster he is. But minutes pass, then hours. He's skipped lunch and dinner and can't bring himself out of this temporary cage. Every time he thought he'd gotten his mind absorbed enough in magic spells and ways to travel through time, he'd feel the pull. He'd catch himself staring at the seat she's occupied these past days, teasing him and barely learning a thing he taught her. Yet she was getting better; stronger.
Waiting for a battle with the Savior wasn't the only thing on his mind. He'd been experiencing a slight problem since her arrival. It wasn't anything serious, at least he hoped not. If he was honest with himself – something he wasn't particularly willing to be in this moment – he'd have to admit to being scared out of his the real reason he couldn't take Emma up on her offer, was that just the idea of it made him feel alone – deeply, painfully alone. There was no promise of more, just a moment's pleasure and then back to being strangers.
And now, his deepest, darkest fear was that somewhere in that glow of divine light he'd lost his advantage. He needed to know he could still exist as an island, with no dependency on anything or anyone. Perhaps Emma was right, perhaps it was better with no emotional entanglements, no expectation for more than they could give right here and now. Even as he thought it, he doubted the wisdom of it, but right along with the threat of loneliness, the old pain came seeping up through his mental floorboards.
He's lived for near three hundred years without physical intimacy, and as evidenced by what he just did, he lacks self-control. But he couldn't hide forever, this was after all, his castle. He appeared outside her door, only to find it slightly open. There was silence inside, so he knew she was alone. Of course she's alone; there are only three people in this castle… But rather than do the sensible thing and knock, he pushed the door open just enough to peer inside. She was sitting at the vanity, her hair down; her fingers tracing the dark edges of what could only be a bite mark.
She'd tripped a switch, somewhere deep within him. Maybe it was the unexpected challenge in her eyes reflected in the mirror. Maybe it was more the feeling that some slender thread of golden light appeared out of the darkness, flared, and in an instant, connected. The blaze of it filled his vision. His body stopped obeying conscious commands and he pushed the door open, stepping inside.
Her eyes flashed towards him in the mirror and he read the surprise in them before she stood to face him. After her initial surprise, embarrassment flashed in her eyes. He could practically feel the heat from her flushed cheeks radiating towards him as she self-consciously draped her hair to cover his mark.
"I wanted to apologize for my behavior, Miss Swan."
"There's no reason –"
"But there is – I must have frightened you, I could've hurt you much worse than that bruise."
"Do I look frightened?"
"No." What he'd seen in her eyes was strong, but fragile. He couldn't shake the feeling that if he gripped onto it too tightly, he could crush it.
But he had to get nearer. He needed to keep feeling this brightness; he had to capture this wild and unearthly thing if just for a moment. He looked away from her only long enough to close the door.
"I could heal it for you – the bruise." She merely shook her head no in response. He scoffed, feeling an unreasonable amount of fear and anger surge through him.
"The truth, dearie, is that I just don't know what to make of you. While I am flattered that you seem so interested, I haven't yet excluded the possibility that you're playing a part to get something from me."
"I am trying to get something from you. I'm not playing a part, or any game; I don't intend to harm you."
"Can you prove it?"
"You know I can't." Now, Rumpel, now would be a good time to leave... But the other mad voice overrode the command, he tried to goad her, prick at her – frighten her until she gave up."I enjoyed it…" came her quiet voice.
He inclined his ear toward her, "What was that?"
"What happened – earlier, I liked it."
She liked it. She liked it? So that made it all okay? He ran his hands over his face, trying desperately to collect his racing thoughts. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like something was doing its best to strangle him.
"You…liked…you liked me hurting you?"
She blushed, bordering on ashamed as she met his gaze, "It didn't hurt. I mean, at first it kinda did, you just surprised me. But then…it felt good."
He flinched internally at the defiance in her voice. He could only stare at her as she faced him.
"What do you want, dearie?"
"I thought I'd made it pretty obvious…"
"Pretending for a moment I believe that this," in a flash his shirt was gone, and he motioned to his scaled skin, "Doesn't disgust you –"
"It doesn't."
His hand reached out, his fingers curling around her slender wrist, pulling her toward him. She came easily, and allowed him to press her back against the canopy of her bed.
"Don't lie to me…"
"I'm not."
He sighed, looking away from her knowing gaze. He seemed to be able to hold two things in his mind simultaneously: the risks of changing the past that would affect the future, and the velvet softness of her skin, the delicacy of the bones in her wrist, the fluttering pulse beneath his fingers. So he would do it then, and remain detached, and not get involved. It would be purely physical as she suggested.
He needed a tie, not even sure what he was planning. But he wanted to know more, wanted to see her open up to him again and this was the only way. He hoped she couldn't see his hand quivering as he conjured a strip of dark green silk.
He held it out to her.
"Put it on. Over your eyes."
He couldn't tell if it was panic or surprise that flashed in those eyes, but she took the fabric with little hesitation. Slipping it over her eyes, her fingers struggled with the soft silk, but finally secured a knot.
He tried to tell himself that the blindfold was just part of the game. But somewhere in the dark places of his mind he knew he was also protecting himself from a greater danger. It was those eyes of hers. Beckoning him, challenging him, begging him…seeing through him. It was his own control that was in danger. He wanted her as exposed, vulnerable, and powerless as she made him feel.
"Undress."
There were easier ways to get her naked, especially now that she was blindfolded. He could've taken the clothes off for her, or simply waved his hand and she'd be as bare as the day she was born. But he didn't, he needed her to blindfold herself, to undress herself – to make the conscious decision to be with him each step of the way.
When he looked back up at her, she had her hands behind her back, working at the zipper. Her movements only thrust her breasts further forward, and he was steadily losing the battle to keep his distance. When she finally dropped the dress onto the puddle of clothes on the floor he couldn't hold himself back any longer and in several short strides he was standing within inches of her. He stared down at her breasts; wanting to reach out and let the curve fill his hand, knowing it would fit perfectly. And though his body begged him to do it, he waited. She wasn't done yet.
"Go on..." he said.
Unable to look away, he watched as she revealed herself piece by piece, ashamed to be the one demanding she expose herself this way. At the same time, he desperately needed her to go on – to see everything.
He circled around her, his eyes consuming every curve and line of her, until he stood at her back, breathing in the scent of her. Just the slender hollows along her shoulder blades entranced him. Everything cried out to be touched and tasted...
He turned her to face him, mesmerized by the flush on her pale skin, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. By the way she so freely gave herself, to him. His eyes drifted from the tense line of her mouth to where her nipples puckered in the cool air. They were the same deep, dusky pink as her lips, and they begged to be touched, licked, and sucked.
So he would take her, then. She clearly wanted him to. He reached for her elbows, encircling her arms with his hands before letting his grip slowly slide down to capture her wrists. Pulling her hands together behind her arched her back, and pushed the beautiful softness of her breasts into the bare skin of his chest. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move. He pressed her back against the bed post, dragging her imprisoned hands above her head and using a spell to keep them there.
He expected a struggle; for her to demand he release her. But she only sighed softly and arched her hips up against him. He swallowed a groan, the raging need in his groin nearly ending the game right then and there. He managed to drag himself away, his body screaming, but his thoughts clear…Not yet.
She might be physically naked, but he needed to strip her down even further if he was to truly have her. He needed her on equal ground, where she was risking just as much as he was. He stood there just taking her in, but even with that cliff-edge and the dark beyond it calling to him, something held him back from just taking what he wanted.
The dark shades of the bruise were a stark contrast to the fairness of her pale skin, and though she wouldn't let him heal it, that's where he started. In a few short steps he was before her, nudging her face to the side and exposing that tender spot on her neck. He didn't bite her, instead kissing and dragging his tongue from edge to edge, feeling the indentations of his teeth on her skin.
Her reaction was instantaneous, her hips surging forward into his hard cock, her sharp gasp eliciting a thrill down his spine.
"Stay still," he growled, gripping her hips and she instantly stilled her movements. He felt her sharp breath on his skin, then nuzzling lower on her neck he teased her, tempting her with the threat of his bite on her skin.
He dropped his head further, unable to keep himself away from the enticing curve of her breasts. His sharp, crooked teeth skimmed along the satin of her skin; the sound of her swallowed whimper and the push of her hips gave him a triumphant thrill.
He closed his eyes and had her nipple between his lips before he could change his mind and as he switched to gently suckling the sensitive peak he had to grip her hips just to keep her from buckling beneath him. But his main concern was the taste of her, the velvety feel of her skin. It had been too long since he'd felt it, and this was smoother, more delicate skin than he'd ever tasted. It was intoxicating and created its own hunger, a hunger that began to consume him as he consumed her.
He rose up to face her, his mouth in line with hers. So close to that gorgeous mouth, those lips. He could feel her soft breath. If only he leaned forward, he would be kissing her...
"Tell me...what do you want me to do?"
"Whatever you want; I want…whatever you want." There was helplessness, a pleading, in her voice. It took a second for it to register.
Her answer was honest; that much he could tell. But the words struck a chord deep within him, something that alarmed him – scared him to death. The boundaries he set for himself as the Dark One…the tight restrictions he'd always placed on his behavior. With her few words she threatened to fracture that control. If she only knew, she would never have uttered such dangerous words.
Or was this exactly what he'd been waiting for? Was she actually able to handle it? To handle him? Could he bear to show that part of himself to anyone? His body was in motion before these thoughts even fully crystallized, and he had his hand on her throat, his breath hot in her ear.
"Do not…play with me."
Despite his firm grip he felt her chin jerk upwards in defiance. "I'm not…" she protested.
"I'll ask again…what do you want me to do?" He shifted his grip, his thumb brushing the soft skin under her ear before tightening imperceptibly. He wanted an answer.
"I told you…whatever you want." She rasped, though there was no fear in her voice.
She was relentless, and it was driving him insane. But truth be told, he simply didn't trust himself. The picture in his mind right now was simply bending her over the edge of her bed and fucking her senseless. He could feel her dampness and heat through his leather pants, but he held himself in check. He would have something of her, even if he didn't trust himself to touch her more than he already had. If he did, he wouldn't stop.
He released one of her wrists from above her, and guided it to his bare chest. Her fingers moved against his skin, tentative at first. She surprised him again when a soft moan escaped her as she smoothed her hand over his skin, so much so that he released her other hand. They moved in tandem over the muscles of his chest, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the expression of sheer lustful enjoyment on her face. The slow explosion of desire began in his lower belly and raced through his body.
To have her touch him was like nothing else; the madness he thought was receding only came back stronger, but different this time. Not so much raging and sharp, but slow and warm. He was beginning to enjoy testing her boundaries, pushing her further and deeper. With some regret he peeled her hands away from his chest and returned it to its captivity against the post above her head.
"Did you think I would bed you tonight?" he asked. Confusion took over her features.
"I, uh, well…yes?"
He could sense her embarrassment at being exposed and on such open display. He wasn't about to tell her that in the dim firelight, all he could see were shadows. Or that instead of her naked pussy, it was all he could do to tear his gaze away from the frantic rise and fall of her sweet breasts, the sensuous curve of her mouth, the arch of her neck.
A rush of something new flooded through his chest and up the back of his neck and it brought small smile to his lips. She was waiting for him, waiting for what happened next. He felt oddly… uninhibited.
The madness that pursued him took over any remaining shred of rational thought, and he tuned all his senses to hers. She'd opened herself to him, and he had to see how far back he could push her resistance. How far would she trust him? How deep could he sink into her acceptance?
"Go on, then" he said softly, his voice rough with this new-found feeling.
She turned towards his voice, her own filled with uncertainty, "I…"
"Touch yourself," he commanded. Her cheeks flushed crimson as he watched her wrestle with the instruction, her emotions flickering over her face, one after another.
"Ex-Excuse me?" she breathed, barely above a whisper.
"I won't repeat myself, dearie." Once again, he released one of her hands. She kept it clutched close to her chest in some vain attempt to cover herself, as if realizing too late just how vulnerable she actually was. "You can end this at any time, dearie. Just say the word…"
His goal wasn't to humiliate her, but he honestly was terrified to touch her and make a fool of himself. He needed to see how she pleased herself, how she touched and how she moved so he could follow the map her fingers drew. He didn't miss the moment that her mouth set in some kind of inner resolve, and her hand made its fumbling way over her breasts into the dark shadow between her legs.
His arousal became something else entirely. That golden thread between them glowed brighter than it ever had before. This wasn't about physical release at all. It was the thrill of being really, truly present – with her – tuned into every breath and sound of the beautiful creature before him.
Her hand dipped down, hesitant at first, then more confident, those delicate fingers moving in their own, familiar dance. Damn it, he wanted it to be his hand exploring the heat, the slick wetness – to be deep inside, feeling her walls pull him in. His chest ached from holding his breath, his eyes following the hypnotic motion of her hand.
She was breathing deep now, ragged, her hips moving just slightly away from the canopy as she stroked herself. God, she was beautiful.
"Slow…go slow," he murmured, pleased when she responded, leaning back, her bashfulness forgotten, her movements slowing, relaxing, undulating.
"Please…" she whimpered.
"Please what?" he demanded between heaving breaths, his voice low and choked, held captive by the power she so effortlessly placed in his hands.
"I need…" she paused, conflicted; desperate. "My fingers…inside…" He swallowed the deep groan at the thought of filling her up, filling her with himself instead.
He took a slow, quivering breath and forced himself to answer, "Yes, go on..."
She lifted her foot to bedframe, leaving her knee bent as she spread her legs for easier access. She groaned breathlessly, her head falling back against the canopy, her body shifting restlessly with a new desperation. He knelt before her as if at an altar to worship, studying the movements of her palm as her fingers slipped in and out. How much more of this could he stand before he lost it completely?
"I'm going to come…" she cried out plaintively. No.
"Not yet. Not until I say…" he growled, cursing under his breath at the sound of her soft, frustrated cries. For all his desperation he didn't want this to be over yet. Not so soon.
His eyes drifted over her body, consumed by this writhing vision before him; the picture he'd held in his mind had been made reality. Everything about her was open, exposed for him, her small hands buried in her wet heat. The pale curve of her throat exposed with her head thrown back, so close…so tempting. He ached just to taste her.
He reached out, his fingertips sliding along the delicate line of her jaw before gripping her chin between his fingers. Her lips parted slightly at his touch, and his thumb strayed, drifting across the velvet softness of her lower lip. He would have that at least – the feel of her wet tongue against his skin.
Without her eyes to captivate him, would her mouth be the next thing to do battle with his rapidly crumbling control?
He pushed against her lips gently, rubbing his thumb back and forth along her lower lip; coaxing, requesting entry. Her lips parted under his caress, drawing him into her mouth, sucking gently, then insistently, her warm tongue swirling around the soft pad of his thumb. He felt as if the breath was being drawn out of his body as he groaned, lost to everything but the feel of her drawing him deeper, sucking harder.
"Come…" he growled, his voice low. She moaned softly against his hand, "Come for me…now," he said, stronger this time.
Her body arched towards him, into the knowing touch of her own fingers as her climax hit her in waves. It was like he'd set off a blazing firecracker; he could only absorb it, amazed at the bucking, sensuous woman before him. Her cries tugged at him, bringing his desire to a breaking point. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he buried his face against her thigh, his teeth nipping her smooth flesh. He bit down, hard. The light consumed him, surrounded him as her trembling hand fisted in his hair, clenching; her ragged panting filled his ears.
"Good girl," he whispered, gasping for breath against her damp skin. "Very good girl." She didn't pull away. He basked in her warmth until the world slowed…he had to drag himself back.
Why had he invented this particular brand of torture for himself? Why on earth did he put himself in this position that left his body screaming with need? The longer he stared at her smooth, creamy skin, the more intense the waves of heat that moved steadily through his body. He wanted more, wanted all of her – to taste all of her; everything. There was no escaping it, becoming even more tangled in the enthralling thought of her lying in bed, bare against the sheets, and sinking himself into the heat of her body and losing himself – losing himself completely.
Through the red fog of his mind he was vaguely aware that he was probably gripping her leg a little too tightly. He released her other hand and she smiled as he guided her onto the bed and watched as she sprawled out in front of him. Why did she provoke him this way? It was bad enough that her naked closeness was doing things to his senses he could barely control.
"Sit up," he said, hardly recognizing his own voice. If he wanted detachment, he'd found it. How could he sound so cold when his whole body was on fire with his need to be with her, on top of her, within her?
He nearly gasped in relief as he removed the tight confines of his leather pants. He watched her try to sit up in her world of blackness, wondering if she had any idea what was coming. For that matter, did he?
He knelt onto the bed and crawled to where she huddled, trapping her wrists and pushing her onto her back, angling her knees apart with his own until he knelt over top of her. The way she touched him affected him much too deeply, and he held her hands if only to maintain what shred of control he retained.
"Now's the time to say no, dearie..." he said into her ear, "Last chance."
There was a moment of stillness as he waited for her answer; the only sound their ragged breathing. He needed her to answer because that edge was right here...right now, and he was about to go over.
"Don't stop..." she stated, firmly, clearly; loudly. Then her hands wrenched free of his grasp and she was touching him, her hands on his chest.
His hard cock brushed against her belly, twitching at the touch of her satiny skin. She made a sound, of pleasure or protest, he didn't know. She wanted this...she asked for it, she was going to get it. With that thought he pressed a hand over her mouth, shifted his hips lower, and finding the slick, hot center of her, thrust into her with one hard push.
It was a strange sort of free-fall. He felt her scream against his hand, but didn't hear it. She was tight, gods, she was so tight…and wet and warm and beautiful. The world stopped as he registered that his cock was buried deep inside her. Her hips writhed up against him, her soft curves meeting and melding against his stomach and chest, melting against him, moving with him.
Braced above her, he stopped for just a moment, watching the emotions as they flickered over her face, sincerely wishing that he could see what was going on in those beautiful eyes. But alas, that would have to wait for another time. Casting a spell over the room, he removed his hand from her mouth, wanting to relish every moan of his name, every plea that fell from her lips. She finally stilled, her chest heaving with every breath, her bottom lip held tensely between her teeth.
He leaned down, his lips near her ear, his heart in his mouth, "Wrap your legs around me." Her knees slid up his sides and wound more snugly around his hips.
The shifting angle of her body drove him deeper and he just about stopped breathing. Never had just being inside a woman felt this good. She fit him perfectly, in every way. He pulled out of her slightly, then pushed his hips forward again, sliding deep into her welcoming warmth. Slow, go slow, damn it! He chided himself, fighting the red haze. But she was arching up, drawing him in, moaning in that soft sexy way, and his careful thrusts were soon lost in that dark, animal need to take her, hard.
The free-fall started again, and while he feared that he was being too rough, she clung to him, taking every pounding thrust, absorbing his aggression, turning it into something else entirely. When he felt her inner muscles spasming around him he kept going, conscious of her orgasm, but unable to stop himself, reveling in her cries of pleasure.
He carried on, in a desperate fever. With this wanton creature beneath him, the very object of his obsession – surely now he could find some relief. He could release all this pent up tension and energy that had been driving him mad. But the further and harder he chased it, the more elusive it became. He was aroused beyond words, his dick as hard as it had ever been, but he just couldn't come.
He slowed, stopping only when he was certain she'd found her own release; defeated. The darkness sat like a weight on his chest, and it was all he could do to muster the energy to carefully pull out of her and roll onto his side, burying his face in his hands.
What the hell was wrong with him? Emma's silence was now the loudest sound he'd ever heard, she who he couldn't silence no matter what. He rolled away from her, angry, mortified, confused, and achingly bitter.
At first she just lay where he'd left her, but she slowly came to life, moving stiffly, reaching her hand out blindly. What for he wasn't certain, but he interlaced his fingers behind his head and propped himself on the pillows, intrigued. Some sadistic part of his mind took pleasure in watching her, still blind, her hands reaching out to find his legs. She was still so damn beautiful, her hair in tousled waves around her shoulders. It took everything in him not to reach up and tangle his fingers in it.
She worked her way up his body, pausing when her hands reached the tops of his thighs, so close to where he wanted her touch. His confusion only increased when she finally settled, her body sprawled between his legs. But still, she hesitated. His jaw clenched.
"There's something I want to do for you,"
"And what exactly is that?" he demanded sharply.
She took a deep breath, and she wrapped her hands around him, holding the base of his cock in her gentle grip. His head fall back, eyes screwed shut at the sudden pleasure. The warmth of her breath brushed across the head of his cock like a heated column of air rising to cut through the chilly air. Her lips, mere inches from the hardened length of him, slowly advanced...to taste, to feel, caressing the very essence of him.
And then her mouth was on him, right at the base, underneath, and she started licking and sucking her way up. Sparkling spots of white heat played across the insides of his eyelids as hot, slick heat engulfing him. He could hear himself groaning, but couldn't stop, lost in the sensations as her mouth found its gentle way up to the tip and swirled her tongue...oh god, that tongue. He gripped the sheets in his fists as she took him into her mouth.
"God's Emma! What…?"
It was as if the air had been drawn right out of his lungs. His entire universe shrank to the feel of every cell and nerve in his cock – every fiber of sinew and muscle and skin. Every vein was now a network of steely tendrils for her tongue to explore and trace. She did so eagerly with an easy confidence despite her blindness. Speeding up her pace, her tongue worked his cock in earnest as she moved it up and down from the head to the base. But he wanted to see...he had to watch her, and with some effort he opened his eyes.
Her lips transfixed him as his cock disappeared between them; not her hair, not even her smile...it was those succulent, firm, and lush lips, and her delightfully seductive tongue. Her hair hung like a curtain, tickling his thighs as she blindly made insistent love to him with her mouth.
Everything about her movements was earnest and honest, and when she took him deeper, it was with such obvious pleasure that she did it, he began to feel himself coming undone. He searched and felt, but there was no duty in her movements, no reluctance in her touch. The pleasure just spun higher and tighter, and where he thought he'd taken from her, he could only feel her giving. All his tightly bound control and guarded walls were crumbling at the seams, and with it came the fear...
He gasped, her hands roamed over his thighs up to the taut muscles of his stomach, pressing against him as if to read every thought, every flex of his body. She was with him, totally, completely with him, and he felt himself falling towards the edge. She took him as deep as she could, her tongue repeating that delicious friction until he was arching off the bed, hips grinding into her mouth, desperate to climb to the top of that peak and go over.
"I've never felt anything so…" good, intense, overpowering, terrifying…? His hands gathered in the heavy strands of her hair, caught up in the silk of her blindfold. She easily could have removed it, but she kept it on, he could only guess as to why.
Moans, soft and incoherent, slipped from her lips, and in them, he heard what he longed for, her verbal acceptance, the vocal pledge to be his, no matter what. It shook him to his core and as he felt her body begin to quiver. He let go of all that he had kept hidden, let it go all for her, this one person who could shake the control he was so relentlessly protective of. He sighed, letting himself rest against her, drawing strength from her presence.
And this time, he didn't have to chase it. She led him right to the edge with a knowing and possessiveness he didn't quite understand, swearing and panting and wobbling on the edge before falling over it into the warmth of her light, without sound and without breath. Everything in him exploded into her, emptying, draining away the pain and dark and waiting. He just let her have it all, allowed her to take it from him, and she held him tight as he fell, senseless with relief and release. And he was not alone.
She rolled to his side, nuzzling and curling against him. He brought the blanket over them, and sent a fireball to the dwindling fireplace to heat up the room. Time passed, minutes, possibly hours; he didn't know.
All he knew was that she was still in his arms, clutched against his chest, trembling. The tendrils of rational thought wound their way through his clouded mind. Gently, they took hold as his breathing returned to normal, feeling as though he was back in his body. He wondered how it could be. How could he have gone this long? All these lifetimes he's walked the earth; how could he lived so long and not known or understood how it was supposed to be?
He tried to blink, his eyes stinging from emotions he could scarcely place. She didn't judge his performance or mock his difficulty, she just took control and brought him to release in a way he'd never imagined. What had been a dark, winding maze, was now a vast, wide-open space with a huge sky and no horizon. Emma had opened a whole new world to him. He didn't think she even knew what she'd done.
Plunging headfirst down that path of madness, he finally uncovered what he'd been missing…her total acceptance, her unconditional giving.
The door was open, like a man set free from a prison he considered all the things he ached to do. He could finally give himself permission to explore and discover and indulge in the treasure pressed along the length of his body. He breathed her in deeply, closing his eyes.
Careful not to disturb her, he lifted a hand and touched the heavy silk of her hair, running it slowly through his fingers. Why had he kept himself from such simple pleasures as this? How could he have thought it a danger? Well, he was in a new kind of danger now, not a physical one, but an emotional one.
His fingers stumbled over the knot of actual silk at the back of her head. She still had that damned blindfold on. With a gentle tug he slipped it up over her head and off.
"It's okay...you can open your eyes," he said quietly. He stared, mesmerized by the soft lashes that drifted against her flushed cheeks. She blinked, as if waking, and it was like watching a butterfly unfurl its wings for the first time, fluttering, hesitant, unsure. She looked up at him.
Everything that transpired before vanished and it was as if he saw her for the first time. Those deep green eyes, so open and beautiful. She was studying him, though shyly, scanning his face for clues about what had just happened between them. But he couldn't think, he could only stare back, transfixed. He'd known, really, since he first saw her, that she was different. This one was his. And the longer she stayed the truer it felt. Perhaps that was why he was so desperate to keep her here.
He drew in a deep breath at the thought and became increasingly conscious of her naked body pressed against his. He still throbbed where her lips and tongue made love to him. His gaze drifted down from her eyes to her gently parted lips. He'd bitten her, stripped her naked and fucked her, but never kissed her. The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him.
"I haven't even kissed you," he said, breathless. She giggled, beaming up at him.
Right now, as he tilted her chin up and brushed his lips against hers for the first time, he couldn't care less about propriety or the oddness of their progression. Her lips were soft and yielding; welcoming, but not passive; she drank as deep of him as he did of her. A surge of excitement rippled through him, as her tongue flicked out to meet his in a slow and thorough exploration.
From the first touch it wasn't enough. The barest of tastes and he needed more, so much more. He pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue seeking out hers in darting strokes. He thought he'd already found the missing piece, but this...this was a whole new thing he hadn't even known he was without. With each lull, resting, breathing hard, he placed soft kisses along her nose, her cheeks, chin, and even her eyelids – allowing himself access to everything he'd denied himself before.
This was the true madness. Sinking into deep, tropically warm waters, feeling the tugging of an incoming wave and being lifted with it, riding it, the excitement just building and frothing and crashing, spilling effortlessly out into calm shallows. Then the same madness, pulling at him, drawing him back into the deep only for it to happen all over again. This wasn't kissing. This was a drug, an electric sea, and he was more than willing to drown himself in it, his fingers tangled in the silkiness of her hair.
Then the wave would catch them back up, and the devouring, hungry need would be back, driving them, limbs tangling, tongues delving, even higher and even hungrier for more. Nothing in his whole life had prepared him for this.
What sort of cruel magic was this? Had the universe known how desperately he needed her that it tore the very fabric of space and time to bring them together, only to make him send her back? Or was she supposed to stay? He did need her, though, he's always needed someone tenacious, someone that he couldn't wear out or bring down – someone strong enough to withstand the depressive radiation that emanates from him. And tenacious she definitely was – perhaps the one person who could weather the storms of this curse, his insecurity, neediness, fear and doubts.
And now he could lean over her and kiss her properly. The waves just kept coming, and he was starting to wonder if he would ever tire of the feel of her lips. Her body arched up against him and he didn't stop himself relishing the warmth of her skin, the way she moved, wanting more. Her nails scratched over the expanse of his back, her fingers tangled loosely in his hair. The silky feel of her bare skin against his kept him in a low thrum of arousal despite the fact he'd so recently climaxed. He wanted her, again. Not just yet, but he wanted her.
When his hand settled on her hip she took it and slid it down between her legs. She pressed up against him, whimpering, showing him she needed it. She was hot and moist and his head began to throb. She put his hand where she wanted it and showed him how to touch her and then put her mouth against his neck. She inflamed him with soft moans as her hips lifted against his hand with fine, strong urgings of her thigh muscles.
His hand behind her shoulders reached up grabbed her wrist and held it, holding her down. He kept his hand pressed in place and let her work, wanting her to do it herself, and she did. She ground her pussy up against him; her head nestled close to his shoulder.
"Oh Yes!" She spit the word like it was something filthy, "Yes, Rumpelstiltskin, just like that!" her fingers in his hair tightened, and brought his mouth to hers in a searing kiss.
His fingers were caught wet heat of her arousal, and despite his best efforts to drown himself in the chorus of her pleasure, his thoughts slowly started to surface. Unwanted, unbidden thoughts of self-doubt, insecurity, suspicion – the cruel voices of Cora and Milah – all waged war with the exhilaration of discovery, the deep in-breath of freedom. They had lingered at the edges of his mind, but his doubts were steadily pressing in, forcing out the light.
Another thought struck him with a sick churning in his stomach. Was this just some kinky fling for her? Did she even give a damn so long as she had her fun? He looked away for the briefest moment…but she'd said she cared. She most definitely did, and he hadn't been imagining things when she'd had her mouth on him; the way she'd touched him, her trembling afterwards. Surely that had been more than just some sort of game to her?
As if sensing his growing detachment she dragged her lips away from his, leaning back, putting a little space between their bodies. He tried to concentrate on the smooth warmth of her legs still entwined between his and not the question in her eyes. He watched as she slowly scanned the room.
When her eyes came back to his, they were guarded and unreadable. Here we go, he thought. This was the part where it all came to pieces and turned out to be what it was...a dream, or worse – a joke. He felt himself drawing back, detaching, retreating from her as he watched her examine her surroundings, avoiding his gaze. She stroked absently at the sheets, the light receded and the lovers became strangers again.
He didn't really know what was going on anymore. His entire being lay in tatters, his mind a total mess. He closed his eyes and just concentrated on breathing. They'd sort this thing out. They'd talk and they'd figure out what they both wanted. Then he could explain...tell her that it was different for him. This time was different. Completely and utterly unlike anything he'd ever thought possible.
Fully awake now, he paced the length of his office, how could he explain it to her? In this world they'd barely talked about anything let alone relationships or feelings. Of course that was assuming he even knew what his feelings were. He closed his eyes and just pictured her; he'd had her, been inside her, for god's sake. He thought back to the moment he'd marked her, the sounds of her moaning, the damp, salt-sweet taste of her. In that moment she'd been his. He wanted that again. More than anything he wanted that.
Stop, just...stop. Gasping at the images that flooded past his closed eyes, he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and took several shuddering breaths. This was madness. It wasn't real. None of it was real – at least not to him.
He wanted her...wanted her so badly; like nothing else he'd ever wanted. Thank god he wasn't with her, because he wouldn't be able to stop himself and he'd be on her and in her and fucking her and...
He grabbed his coat and locked his shop. It was the middle of the night, and once more, he left in search of Emma. He had no plan and no idea what he planned to say. When he saw her car in the station parking lot, he crossed the street, surprised to find it unlocked.
He strode with purpose into the station, his intent and focus unclear. He stopped in the office doorway, transfixed to the sight of her with her feet on the desk, hand slipped inside her jeans, gasping his name in pleasure.
Emma woke with a gasp, her blood pounding in her ears. She lifted her head from her arms, disoriented as she took in the items on her desk. The station was dark save for the dim light in the corner of her office. With a heavy sigh, Emma leaned back in her chair, slipping her fingers down to the warm, silky mess between her thighs. She was shocked at how wet he still made her, even if it was just in her dreams.
She was consumed with an overall feeling of warmth that spread soothingly throughout her tired limbs. She hadn't stopped thinking of him, she dreamed of him every time she closed her eyes. She allowed the memories to flood her, reveling in the sizzling heat flooding through her middle, and immediately images of his body bucking into her flashed like a movie playing on a screen in front of her eyes. This was insanity, but it didn't stop her.
She wasn't lying, she thought once she returned whatever spell she'd been under would be broken, that she would return to her normal feelings for him. But she couldn't deny her feelings, nor could she deny the woman he unleashed – a powerful savior in full command of her own destiny, with an almost unwavering confidence; a woman who craved his touch constantly, who got aroused at the most inopportune times at just the memory of his touch. But then she would smile, because she had never felt so alive, so free to explore her sexuality, so desired – so completely loved.
Someone cleared their throat and Emma instantly feared she was about to be caught by her father with her legs wide and her hand down her pants. To her relief, it was only Gold.
"Hey…" she said in clear surprise, sitting up.
"Don't stop on my account, dearie." He said with a salacious smile. She rolled her eyes, promptly removing her hand from her pants. Had she summoned him in her mind somehow?
"It's the middle of the night, Gold. What are you doing here?"
He took a seat on the opposite side of her desk, smoothing his tie, "We need to talk."
"About what?"
"You know what…"
She swallowed thickly the rising torrent of emotion, both fearful and excited at what he had to say. He could just be here to tell her that he's choosing Belle, but then, he could also be here to say that he was choosing her.
"So, talk…" she managed to say, reclining back in her seat.
"After you left my shop last night I fell asleep, and I had a very vivid dream."
"Did you?" she asked, sarcasm lacing her words.
"Indeed, then this morning I told Belle I was staying home and had several morevery vivid dreams…" he continued as if he hadn't heard her. Then he lifted gaze to her, "I believe the dream catcher worked like a charm, it just stored your memories in my subconscious."
For a moment she didn't speak, but when he didn't elaborate, she asked, "What did you see?"
"Us…in my bed at my castle, talking about Belle." He stated simply, tapping his cane against the floor.
"The night I told you I could love you…" she clarified, and he nodded.
"Yes…and then before that, when it started, when we…or rather, when I…"
"Is that all you saw?" she asked, knowing how unsettled it made him that he bit her. He apologized profusely for it in the days that followed.
"So far, yes."
Just because he remembered didn't mean she was about to get what she wanted. It would be true to the pattern of her life, to be given the gift of something so incredible, only to have ripped away again.
"So what now?" she asked.
"I don't know; I don't know how I feel or what to think…" his voice trailed off, his confused expression focusing intently on the ground. Emma nodded at that, slowly rising from her chair and making her way to the door.
"I'll be right back."
She made her way to the bathroom, swearing that she wouldn't cry. She told him at the start of this that if he didn't want her, than she would let him go. And she would, if Belle was who he truly loved and wanted, she wouldn't stand in the way of that. But she wasn't about to let him see her get emotional over him. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to cool the crimson from her cheeks. She was an adult, she could do this – it wouldn't be the first time she'd been rejected. When she stepped back into the station he was standing in her way, approaching her slowly.
"You didn't give me the chance to finish…" The uncertainty and sadness was gone from his eyes and before her was a man in full command – the man who knows what he wants and gets it. Her back hit the cell bars as he trapped her body with his. "I have a fairly good idea of what I want…"
She hoped futilely that he couldn't see what was in her heart and mind at that moment because Lord knows it scared her to death. He provoked such a volatile reaction in her. Even she couldn't understand the depth of emotion she felt for him. She only knew it was stronger than anything she had ever felt.
"Are you hungry for me, Emma?" He asked, searching her eyes for the answer, that wicked smirk tugging at his lips, "Have you spent your nights dreaming about us?"
His voice was a rich baritone that floated through the air and hummed through her veins. The scent of his skin was dizzying stealing the breath from her lungs, rendering her speechless as she locked eyes with him. It was woven through the very fabric of her being, this lingering, insatiable hunger that twisted her dreams into dark sensual journeys she never wanted to awaken from.
"You know I have," She replied huskily, unable to stop the catch in her voice. She wanted him, hadn't stopped wanting him. Her nights had been spent dreaming of the things they had done, what she did for him, and to him – and vice-versa. She shivered, remembering the nights she had touched her pussy, rubbing herself frantically as the thoughts of him filled her mind. Her body would buck silently in the bed, remembering his length jammed into her.
"Are you as hungry for me as I am for you?" The power of his perusal was palpable, sweeping over body as he brought her hand to his mouth, sucking the fingers she'd used to touch herself with. He closed his eyes, sighing and moaning as if he'd tasted the nectar of heaven. She sucked air sharply into her lungs at the images he provoked in her mind. She felt the answering clench of her pussy and knew he felt it too. Liquid heat coursed through her as their eyes locked.
"The feel of being inside you; your legs wrapped around me…they aren't my memories – not yet. Every dream is of touching you, of seeing your lips parted in ecstasy after I've brought you to orgasm, or wrapped around my cock doing that exquisite thing with your mouth…"
Emma's breath caught in her throat at his whispered words, her pussy clenching and grasping did nothing to soothe the ache or help clear her mind enough to speak. The rush of heat streaking down her body left her thunderstruck.
"I need to hear you coming, Emma. I need to hear you panting with the strength of your orgasm – to feel your body quivering as you cling to me for dear life – and I need to know it's because of me. Tell me you want that Emma, tell me about the need pulsing through you right now… Tell me."
She couldn't possibly speak. The way he had softly whispered in her ear had only put to words what her body already knew, that she did need him, her body knew what it wanted and only he could stop this aching desire coursing through her system, and even then, only for a moment.
It had been all she could do to act normally around Henry and her parents. Ever since that night, she had felt like a different woman, a woman with secrets, secrets that aroused a restlessness that niggled at her constantly. Hearing that desire within Gold's voice and his racing heartbeat, feeling his desire being driven hard inside her was what awakened the lover within herself.
"Yes….I need you…I need you." She closed her eyes, clearing the lust induced fog of her mind and regaining her control. Her fingers slipped the suit jacket over his shoulders, removing the arm bands and cuff links and all the ridiculous pieces to his suit. She unbuttoned the dress shirt, slowly, not breaking his gaze, their lips nearly touching. She reminded herself that technically for him, this was their first time all over again. Her hands went to unbuckle his belt, when his hand caught her wrist in a gentle grip.
"No, Emma, let me pleasure you first…please."
He bent down and kissed her, capturing her mouth before she could do more than draw in a breath. It was hot; it was hard, and better than she remembered. She'd almost forgotten the way he licked and nipped at her lips, coaxing her tongue into play by stroking it with his own. She groaned into his mouth, even as he pulled his lips from hers. He grinned like the Cheshire cat, shirtless and sexy, and determined to drive her senseless.
Emma moaned again as his mouth captured her breast, alternately sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak. Her grip tightened his hair, holding him in place. She was lost in the determined way he devoured her breasts, first one, then the other, switching back and forth between them with little groans of pleasure of his own. The contrast of cool air and warm breath, of damp tongue and dry hands, laving and caressing her flesh, forced her eyes closed in pleasure. Within a remarkably short time he had her chest heaving, panting in and out.
When he abandoned her breasts just as abruptly as he had abandoned her mouth, she groaned in disappointment. She realized as he pulled the jeans down her legs that she never buttoned her pants up after he caught her. The jeans were added to the pile of their combined clothing,
He didn't lay her down on the cot like she thought he would. Instead, the most powerful man in all the realms knelt between her legs; mortification, not just pleasure, heated her cheeks as he took a long look at her most private parts. A fear she had never even considered blossomed deep in her abdomen. What if Gold wasn't the same as Rumple? Without his memories that he loved her, it didn't mean the same to him that it did to her. This was just Emma offering her body to a veritable stranger.
Emma didn't stop him draping her knee over his shoulder, trusting that he wouldn't hurt her. Her head fell back against the bars as his tongue swept along the length of her pussy. His long slender fingers probed into her, slowly stretching her, moving around, finding her clit with his soft lips. Her hips jerked and twitched, rocking gently with the unbearable pleasure of his knowing mouth. How she must look – standing naked with her back against the cell bars, a man kneeling between her legs.
She didn't want to be anyone's slave, not that she ever considered herself a slave to him. She was far too stubborn and independent, but just to feel what it was like to be so vulnerable with someone, to be so at his mercy brought a sense of both security and danger. She no longer felt like a mother or daughter; no longer felt like a sheriff or a Savior. With her hands gripping the bars above her head she felt incredibly vulnerable, terribly sexual. The effect on her was dizzying.
Her legs began to tremble again with an excitement she couldn't explain, and her stomach seemed to turn to liquid within her body. She was responding to him, or rather, her body was, just as it had always done, grinding her pussy against his hand, against his mouth, moving to increase the contact with the fingers that slid along her most intimate flesh.
Emma couldn't even speak. As far gone as she was, she could feel every nuance of Rumpel's mouth between her legs, almost feel the expressions on his face as his tongue slipped and slid over her clit. She felt his dizzying hunger and appreciation of her as he actually seemed to worship her pussy and by extension her whole body. He reached up, gripping her hips in his hands; she had never felt so much like a goddess; beautiful, radiant, and alive.
As good as his mouth felt, she'd been aching for this for weeks, and she had no intentions of rushing, or being rushed. She released the bar, combing her fingers through the silk of his hair.
"You can stop; I don't want to come yet…not this way."
He covered her with his mouth. A long, open-mouth kiss. As long as her breathless sigh. Oh, the taste of her. How could he have never tasted her like this before?
His tongue slid, gentle and slow, lapping at the wet of her entrance, slow, slow up to the nub of her clit. Rolling it slow under his flattened tongue, her whole body jumped at the pressure on that one small area. He held himself still, holding her hips, waiting, breathing hard. Waiting for that little desperate moan – for the roll of her hips against his mouth. And then she'd said those words…
Gold couldn't breathe, drunk off the heady taste of her. He didn't want to stop, but he was all out of words as he stood on unsteady legs. He couldn't go back, couldn't go forward; he could only hold himself there, his lips touching hers with the barest of caresses. Waiting, chest heaving.
Her hands moved, hesitant, but they found their way onto his bare stomach. He nearly jumped at her touch, his whole body tense, still somehow waiting for the shove. Waiting for her to push against him, push him away and reveal that this had indeed been nothing but a cruel joke.
But her hands made their way slowly up his stomach instead, smoothing over his chest, raising goosebumps wherever they touched his skin. He sucked a breath in through his teeth. Her fingers slid up his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. Oh yes. Closer was good. Oh god, yes.
"How would you like to make some new memories?" she breathed against his lips, her body flush against.
"Yes, very much so, please…"
With a groan he flattened himself against her, pressing her into the cell bars with his body. He wanted her to feel how hard he was for her. Wanted her to know what she did to him. He wasn't kissing her gently anymore. He was devouring her mouth, his tongue seeking out hers, searching for her. She drew him in, her fingers tightening in his hair, arching her hips up against him. She was so soft and felt so good. And she hadn't pushed him away. The relief that flooded through him was being replaced by the rising fever. He needed her, now.
He didn't dare stop kissing her for a second as he laid her on the cot, unable to silence the part his brain thinking that she might just escape him if he did. That he'd open his eyes and she'd melt like a dream and be gone. He wasn't letting her go this time.
He wrestled with the belt and the fastenings on his trousers, gasping against her mouth when he finally freed himself. Sliding her higher up the cot, he trapped her body beneath his, and her smooth legs came up around his waist. She looked positively smug, and it thrilled him to know that she was with him and loved this as much as he did. What words couldn't say, action could, and he was pleased to see her little smile waver as he held her gaze, letting her know with one look all that he intended to do with her...to her. He couldn't wait. He needed to have her.
His lips found the soft peak of her breast, the nipple tightening and pebbling under the steady swirl of his tongue. He suckled gently at first, then harder, his lips and tongue insistent, drawing a keening wail of pleasure from her. Her body arched beneath him, firmly trapped by his arms and legs, but he knew she would fight him even harder if he dared to stop. Hungrily, he licked, kissed, and nibbled his way over to the other waiting breast, his appetite for the salt-sweet taste of her only growing. He held her firmly, losing himself in the feel of her, the taste of her.
He reluctantly dragged his mouth from her breast, conscious that she was growing too sensitive, and trailed his kisses up her neck instead. His mouth seemed constantly drawn to that sweet spot on her neck. He paused, his lips and teeth just barely grazing the spot where he first marked her – where the thread of light first penetrated through his darkness and lit up his internal sky. The bruise was gone now, and only the slightest indentations of his teeth could be seen.
"I've never bitten anyone else, you know," he whispered, his fingers tracing the marks. He felt her soft intake of breath. "I was overcome; I just needed to taste you...feel you. To know you'd be thinking about me every day." He let his mouth settle against her skin, absorbing the rapid throb of her pulse.
"I know…" came her breathless reply.
He pulled back and looked down at her, filled with a new lightness, his voice mock-serious. "You have thought about me every day, haven't you?"
She just groaned in response, their eyes locked, her body straining against him in frustration and need, and he chuckled.
"What?" he asked, his tone playful. "Is there something you want, dearie?"
"Yes!" she cried, her eyes flashing wider, glaring at him.
"And what's that then?"
"You know exactly what!" She continued to struggle against him despite her helpless position.
"This?" he asked, nibbling delicately along her neck.
"No!"
"Then tell me..."
"Bastard," she moaned, "Please Gold..."
"Please what?" He watched her, fascinated by the flush in her cheeks, the dilation of her pupils, the wild, fluttering desire that transformed his demure, responsible Savior into a wanton.
"Please...fuck me." She whispered the words so quietly he had to strain to hear her, but they still hit him in the gut, nearly sending him right over the edge. And oh god, did he want to – to fuck her and never stop. He flattened the length of his cock against the downy curve of her belly, closing his eyes as the sensation tore at his control.
"You want this, hm?" he taunted her gently, grinding his erection slowly against her stomach, his voice as unsteady as his restraint. She nodded, her movements becoming more frantic, her eyes glassy with need, and eyelids fluttering as she struggled to focus.
He wasn't teasing though, when he kissed her. He didn't hold back, letting his lips slide over hers, his tongue seeking out the sweet recesses of her mouth. Her tongue danced with his, drawing him in, pulling him deeper.
When he finally drew back, she whimpered at him in protest, the look in her eyes vulnerable and accusing. How dare he stop, was that it? This time around, he took special pleasure in looking long and deep into her eyes. He denied himself the simple pleasure of seeing her arousal, frustration, and pleading; her struggle for control before they glossed over in absolute pleasure. By the time he was done with her she'd be begging him for mercy, just the thought of it made his cock twitch. He wanted to hear it...hear that breathy voice of hers pleading with him – to stop, to never stop, to fuck her, to fuck her harder...
He took hold of her chin firmly, tilting it up until she looked him in the eye.
"No complaints, just do as I say, Emma."
She stared back at him, eyes wide. He watched the tip of her tongue dart out as she unconsciously licked her lips, and he knew his answering grin was a wicked one.
Pushing into her was like coming home. Nothing had ever felt so right. Her legs tightened around his hips as he thrust up into her, his restraint in pieces. For a blinding moment he was completely lost in the tight heat of her body. He just held her there, the weight of her wrapped around his waist only pushing him deeper inside. With a long, slow thrust of his tongue he deepened the kiss, the insistent flex of his hips mirroring his steady assault on her mouth. She moaned into his kiss, clutching at him inside and out, and he found he couldn't go slow. His next thrust was hard and deep and quick, and again, and again...
"I've missed you…" she whimpered against his lips. The words weighted with her emotions gripped his heart, and if he didn't know better he might think there were tears in her eyes.
The sweet friction sharpened, and he knew he was about to lose it completely. Stop...you must stop, said the logic. He groaned a deep mental 'No', but knew it spoke the truth. They were skin to skin, nothing between them. He slowed, though the wrestling match with his body was intense. How could he stop something that felt so perfect?
And he did stop, leaning into her, panting, face buried against her neck. He let his lips graze the soft skin under her ear, scraped lightly with his teeth. Slowly, gently, he pulled back from her, when he spoke again, it was in a whisper, each word punctuated by a gentle brush of his lips on hers.
"I'm sorry...sorry..." He breathed her in, intoxicated, frustrated to the point of pain. He felt her wriggle against him in protest. She hadn't wanted it to end any more than he had. "I know, I know...but we need to use protection..."
He heard her disappointed sigh, felt her arch of disagreement. But when he looked up and met her eyes, there was a smile dancing on her lips as she looked up at him through lowered eyelashes.
"Gold, are you saying you don't want our lovechild?" she asked him, teasing; breathless.
He didn't know what had struck him silent – the beauty of her just looking up at him, lips swollen from his kisses, her hair tumbled softly around her face. Or the fact she was talking about having his child, even if it was only theoretical. The flush of heat came straight up from his belly and he just hovered, gaping at her, unable to string words together.
"I've been on the pill ever since I gave birth to Henry, we're safe." He watched her as she settled herself back on the cot, gorgeous and naked and with that secretive little smile still on her face.
"You are so beautiful, Emma…" She stared up at him, lips parted, eyes dark and shining. He just let himself look at her, taking it all in once more, his gaze drifting down her body from the soft curves of her breasts to the gentle slope of her belly and the blonde hair below. He had finally tasted all of her and now he wanted nothing more than to savor her.
"I like it when you say my name…" she breathed. Some distant part of his mind registered her words and made the connection.
"There's power in a name…" he murmured. Did she feel it? Was that why she was becoming his? Belonging to him more with each caresses, each touch? Kneeling onto the bed he quickly had her arms above her head, straddling her legs and pinning her beneath him. He flexed his hips, sliding his erection down and underneath her, enjoying the slick friction of her along the length of his cock. God, she was so wet…and impatient.
"I fought it, but deep down…" Her hips were grinding against him with increasing frustration, begging him with her body.
"Deep down what?" The hunger to be inside her was building again, and teasing her was beginning to be a game he was having difficulty playing. "Tell me, Emma…"
"I'm yours…" She shivered at that, a low humming moan in her throat, her eyes closing momentarily as she arched against him. "I think…I've always been yours…"
He smiled, pulling her captive hands to his chest, angling his hips so the tip of his cock rubbed against her clit instead, denying her one pleasure, but giving her another. She reacted like she'd had an electric shock, moaning and whimpering; her frantic sounds only encouraged him to do it again, slow, teasing. He wanted her focus; to be in no doubt of whom she was with right now. So maybe he was still a bit of a bastard.
He bent in to nip at her neck, "Say it again…" punctuating his words with harmless little nibbles. She had to blink and swallow before she found her voice, her breath hitching with every touch of teeth to skin.
"I'm yours…"
He flexed his hips in a slow grind against her, a low growl in his throat when she tightened her knees around his hips with a breathless whimper.
"Good girl…"
He released her arms, the images in his mind took hold and he burned to feel her the way he wanted to.
"Turn over," he instructed. A broad smile formed on her lips, eagerly rolling onto her stomach without hesitation. She slid up to a kneeling position, the roundness of her sweet, swaying bottom nearly brushing up against his aching erection. If only she knew how gorgeous she looked; how enticing. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to plunge himself into her right then.
She bent down under him as he moved up behind her on his knees, bracing himself above her. His erection slid tantalizingly against the smooth, soft skin of her inner thighs, a hint of slick wetness when he pressed closer. She was so warm, her face pressed into the pillow, moaning for him. He'd barely even touched her and she was already moaning in pleasure. He took in a slow, deep breath.
Leaning back to balance his weight, he gripped her wrists in his hands, bringing them around until her hands rested together at the small of her back. He wasn't trying to restrain her, but now she was completely at his mercy, all her vulnerable places open and exposed to him. Had he created this for himself, this fulfilment of his desires? No, he only needed Emma's name to make her the Savior – the breaker of his curse. There was no magic powerful enough to make someone love another person.
The thrill of it washed over him; she was well and truly his, by no magic or spell. He drifted, floating in that warm sea again, his desire a languid thing to be savored, sipped. Her body was his to explore, and he would, he had every intention of mapping out her body all over again, tracing every curve – just not right now.
Holding her wrists he slid his arm around her waist, pressing the tip of his cock against her slick entrance. He pulled her back towards him, penetrating only a short way into that dark heat before pulling back. She whimpered into the pillow, struggling against his hold. He knelt over her, chest heaving with the effort it took not to just take what he wanted. She had to be ready.
"So impatient, love…" he teased, but he was far gone as she was.
The taut line of her belly filled his hand as he dragged her back against his throbbing cock, absorbing every choked whimper that shook her. He lifted her arms up and away from her back so he could smooth his hand along the graceful curve of her spine, Her slow, sobbing breaths told him what he needed to know.
With aching relief he plunged into her, deep, hard, ramming his cock into her welcoming heat. He let the thrill wash through him as she screamed her pleasure into the pillow; staking his claim, taking possession. The bright thread of light burst behind his eyes, competing with the red haze of need. The rest became a blur.
"Oh, Gold…yes…" she was breathless, mindless, meeting his every thrust.
He took her over and over, freely, without restraint. With each thrust she absorbed his ferocity, accepted the intensity of his onslaught. Nothing existed except the tight heat that surrounded him, the delicate wrists he gripped in each hand, the sweep of blonde curls over her shoulders. Her body bent and bowed and flowed with his. They pushed each other higher, up that tensioning spiral of pleasure.
He wanted her to come with him, wanted to feel her clench around him again in orgasm as he fell over the edge with her. Keeping her wrists held tight, he slid his hand along her hip, smoothing along the sweet indent of her waist. Lower and down under her belly, and his fingers were sliding into the wet folds at her center, finding the little pleasure nub and swirling, circling, stroking.
"Say my name…Em-ma."
"Rumpelstiltskin…" Her cries grew sharper, and she tightened around his thrusting cock, writhing back against him when her orgasm hit.
He was so close to the edge, the tightness pulling in from his whole body, the tension building and building and when she spasmed around him he lost his grip on her wrists. He grabbed her hips, pushing into her harder, deeper as the pleasure began to rise, began to flow and explode. He heard his rough groans mingling with her breathy cries, felt her trembling and shaking beneath him as he collapsed on top of her.
As he stopped moving within her, terrified that he had taken more then she meant to give, he began to withdraw, frantically afraid that his hunger, his need had robbed him of what he needed so much. But she whimpered at his movement, and pulled him back to her, keeping him on top of her.
Her head rested on the pillow, and all he could focus on was the pale smooth skin of her shoulder. As the last surges of his orgasm ebbed, he knew he had to taste her again. Letting his lips brush against her skin, he scraped gently with his teeth before biting down, his arm encircling her waist, pressing her against him. He felt her arch, heard the whimper and her satisfied sigh.
Something completed for him, it all came full circle, reaching a fullness he hadn't known could be. A swell of emotion rose through his chest and he found himself gripping her harder, tight to him, loath to let her go. He rolled onto his side, dragging her with him until she was draped across his heaving chest. She laid still, her cheek pressed to his chest, as if intent on listening to the gradual slowing of his racing heart.
He stared down at her bent head, at her hand draped across his stomach. Even with her warm body pressed against him as evidence, there was some part of him that still doubted her existence. Perfection was something he'd always held in suspicion, but he couldn't deny what he'd felt. He was only half of the equation, though.
She hadn't moved since he pulled her over top of him. He knew she was still awake, but he couldn't see her expression, and it worried him. Not her reaction to the roughness of the sex, but the intensity of it. His intensity. He sighed, letting his fingers comb through her long hair. His eyes caught sight of the security camera that started all this and the world stopped.
"Emma, is that camera still recording?" she moaned softly, angling her head to see what he was talking about.
"Oops," she murmured sleepily against his skin, "Guess I'll have to destroy another tape."
They laughed, releasing all the pent up emotion. There would be much to discuss and figure out, but right now, he closed his eyes and relished the peace and joy of the moment.
A/N: Again, I hope you enjoyed it. I hope it wasn't too long. Feel free to comment and let me know! :)))