Candlelight

By: RosexKnight

Belle needs a reminder, and perhaps a little courage. Rumpelstiltskin will never understand why she think she will find it with him, but somehow she does. This takes place while he is still the spinner, during the second night of her being in the village, after she flirted for the first night in Chapter Four - "A Woman's Trade"

(( WARNING: Contains Spinner!Rumple Smut ))

Spinning by candlelight was something his aunts had always told him not to do, never to do. Too much strain on the eyes. Even the best spinners could go blind. But the princess had ordered thread. And thread she would get, cost of his sight or not.

Rumpelstiltskin was not surprised by the aching that started in his eyes long after he'd sent Baelfire to bed. He was surprised, however, by the knock on the door.

His blood ran cold. He almost never got visitors. Especially so late. Almost. It had to be the guards, come for his son. Or some robber preying on an easy target. He didn't move, even to snuff out the candles. But then the knock came again, softer, a voice accompanying it saying his name, and suddenly he was on his feet, ignoring the protesting of his ankle as he flung the door open.

Belle stood before him, bathed in moonlight and dressed in a modest cloak and silk gown, probably for sleeping. He swallowed, unable to move as his eyes met hers and she gave him a smile.

She'd come back a second night. Somehow.

Her voice was soft, mindful of Bae, but also held a hint of sadness. "I didn't wake you did I? I saw the light..."

"No of...of course not, milady."

Her voice held nothing but relief. "Good...Why are you up so late?"

"Your thread. I wanted to be sure I got it all done before..."

"Don't spin my candlelight! You'll go blind. It's not worth that."

He was going to protest. To tell her it was worth it for her, or something along those lines. But there was an odd sort of tremble in her voice. A faint thing that made her eyes look even sadder. He averted his gaze, looking away out of respect, but his eyes only fell on her silk nightgown, and he decided her eyes were the safest place for his at the moment.

"Would you...would you like some more tea?"

"Oh I...I don't know. I didn't mean to intrude. Again. Sorry I...I snuck out." Belle was saying, reading the questions in his mind he dare not ask.

Running. She was running again, but tonight was different, somehow. The spinner tried to steady his voice, and failed. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course. I just..." She paused, looking beyond him searching for that thing again. That thing she always seemed to be looking for in his house. "I just needed a reminder, and perhaps a little courage."

Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head. Courage? Surely she must have been joking. Playing a trick on the peasant spinner. But her eyes held nothing to indicate it was so. Whatever courage she needed, somehow, she believed she would find it here on his doorstep. He shook his head.

"Miady, I don't-"

His words were cut short, dying in his throat as she stepped closer. Her eyes held something Rumpelstiltskin didn't recognize, and he couldn't tell if he should flee or embrace her.

"Don't normal women do this? Sneak out in the middle of the night to...to..."

Suddenly her lips were on his, and it all became clear to him. He stumbled back, his bad ankle screeching in protest. It caved, and he stumbled for a moment, but she caught him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as she brought him forward to lean on her for balance.

"This is a dream." He breathed. It wasn't a question, but she still looked as if she wanted to answer him for a moment, so he said it again, softer, terrified he would wake up. "I'm dreaming."

Her hands twitched, becoming tenser on the back of his cloak for a moment. "Do you want to be?"

Her eyes held something akin to hope, and a dream was the only explanation for it. The only explanation for anyone, let alone a princess, to come to his door and kiss him. To feel as if she...wanted him.

"No." Rumpelstiltskin decided.

"Kiss me again."

"Milady, I-"

"Belle." And when he opened his mouth to protest she silenced him with a touch, a hand that came to caress his hair. Oh gods he couldn't do this. "Just for tonight, can't we pretend like I'm simply Belle and you Rumpelstiltskin?"

But even this didn't make sense to him. Because Rumpelstiltskin was a crippled coward, and Belle a princess. They didn't fit together at all.

"Princess I don't-"

"Please..." She was clutching him now, clinging to him with all the force that was keeping her upright as his crutch. "Please don't make me be a princess tonight. Not with you. Just let me run one more time..."

Dream logic, he decided, was a strange thing. Playing on what had happened the night before, when she'd visited to flirt, saying she was running, saying she was tired of being a princess sometimes. Perhaps that had been a dream too. He'd never had a dream that felt so vivid, so real.

Who was he to fight it?

He let himself stumble back, sitting on the wooden chair she'd sat in only a day before. She followed, sitting in his lap as he guided. He brought his hand up, caressing her curls and cheek before finally following her demand and bringing his lips to hers. She made a noise that stirred something inside of him stir. Something that hadn't in ages.

"Baelfire." She breathed against his lips as he moved against hers.

"He won't wake." Rumple's assured. "The boy sleeps like a rock."

Any other words she might have had evaporated as he closed his mouth around hers again. Belle was inexperienced, he could tell, but learned quickly, and soon their lips were dancing as if they'd kissed like this all their lives. He ran his tongue over her lips is a cautious motion, but she was soon doing the same to him and it made his bones tremble. Gods she tasted so good. Sweet yet tart. He couldn't remember anything that tasted better.

"Your leg..." Came her voice again, filled with genuine concern as his lips moved from hers to her neck to see if her skin tasted as good as her lips.

"Doesn't hurt. Any pain will be worth it for you."

Belle shivered on his lap as he whispered the words against her skin. Her hands flitted around, not sure where to go. They finally settled in his hair. Caressing, scratching, massaging, making his entire being tremble. He made a soft noise of encouragement and she continued, one of her hands finding its way to play with the hair at the back of his neck.

Her silk night dress was soft under his touch, but the spinner wanted to feel her under his fingertips. More than anything. But suddenly his fear kicked in, and he cursed himself for being a coward even in his dreams. His hands stilled on her back and his body became rigid.

"Rumpelstiltskin?"

He'd never been able to please Milah as she wanted. And now Belle was in his lap and deserved so, so much more than whatever meagerness he could give her. Her very touch made him tremble like a boy. He was going to make a fool of himself. She would leave and-

"Rumple..."

The pet name snapped him out of his daze and he found the princess looking at him, cradling his face in her hands. Her eyes held concern and suddenly he was the one doing the clinging, burying his face in the crook of her neck as her hands moved over his back in an attempt to soothe him.

"What's the matter my spinner? What did I do?"

"You picked a poor partner." He choked. Her spinner. No, it wasn't inaccurate. He was all but plotting to move to Avonlea like she suggested if things turned sour. "I'm no good at this, Belle."

That giggle erupted from her again, perhaps a bit too loud and she cupped her hand over her mouth to stifle it. It didn't stop her from continuing to laugh though, as if he'd said something completely silly. Somehow the sight of her smile left him breathless.

When she composed herself her face was flushed, and she couldn't meet his eyes despite their position. Even if they stayed like that, she on his lap and his hands safely on her waist he'd be content. Happy, even.

"I wouldn't know if you were good or bad. I uh...don't have anything to compare it to."

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes widened. She was inexperienced. She was still only a maiden. His mouth moved wordlessly for a moment before suddenly speaking. "You...You're...Why then are you...?" He stammered, and Belle listened ever so patiently. "Milady I can't-"

"Belle." She corrected firmly, in a tone of a princess. Then it softened, turned almost sad. "You...can't?"

He realized that was the wrong thing to say. She was taking it the wrong way. He was muffing it all up. The spinner reminded himself to breathe as he traced patters on her back with his fingertips.

"I shouldn't." He corrected after a time. And she seemed to relax. "You deserve so much more than a night in a bed of straw with a cripple. I'm unworthy of you, mil- Belle. Unworthy to be the one who...Who you give your..."

She cut him off with a kiss, and he was suddenly powerless to do anything but feel her lips on his, her body under his hands. Anything she was willing to let him feel he wanted, and needed to make her feel good in return.

"It is mine to give to who I wish." She explained, her voice cracking slightly with fear. "I...I understand if you do not want me. I only thought, perhaps, I could have a night of just being Belle. Like last night."

This time it was him who did the laughing, and he pulled her closer. "Woman you must be mad to think I don't want you."

"Then you have me."

He groaned as he found her lips again, his hands becoming desperate, finding their way under her night dress and making her shiver. His hands, coarse and calloused like sandpaper, we're making this princess with skin as soft as a rose petal shiver for him. Yes this was an odd dream, but so, so good.

"By the fire." He rasped breathlessly, body already trembling. "There's a pallet of blankets and wool and straw. My bed."

Belle understood immediately, and carefully lifted herself from his lap. He watched as she went to the fireplace and sat on the pallet, smiling softly before laying down and looking at him. A question was in her eyes, but he didn't have time to ask what it was before she lifted a hand to beckon him to her, and he was powerless to do anything but follow.

Somehow, she was smiling up at him, and in the candlelight she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever saw. Good thing he hadn't gone blind yet.

Their lips met once again, this time slower. Fleeting. His tongue explored her mouth leisurely, finding spots that made her make the most wonderful noises as she layed under him. His hands were slow, but deliberate. Memorizing every curve of her body, slipping under her silk gown to cup her breasts properly. And then she made a whimpering noise and he was lost. He deepened the kiss, swallowing her sweet noises and meeting them with noises of his own. It took him another moment to realize her hands were exploring as well, sliding up his sides under his rough shirt to caress his lean frame. Her fingers hit a bruise but he didn't care because her hands were on him willingly, seeking him out as her tongue did.

Part of him wanted to stop. To protest. He went rigid under her touch for a moment. Because she didn't need to do that. He should be pleasing her. She wouldn't want him once...

But he could hear her response in his ears "Hush my spinner. I want you."

Her words broke him, and his hands grew bolder on her, cupping her breast, teasing her nipple with his thumb before going to pay homage to the other breast. His lips moved on hers, then along her jaw and neck, licking, nibbling, anything to make her continue to squirm and make those delicious noises. She had to cup a hand over her mouth to muffle the moan when his mouth closed around her nipple. Her hands wavered then, but desperately tried to continue to please him, caress him, hold him. Gods she was glorious.

His fingers drifted lower on her, tentative, scared, until they were stroking her thigh and she moaned breathlessly when they found the apex and stroked her folds with a feather-light touch.

She was wet for him. This amazing woman was wet for him and he very nearly embarrassed himself with that simple realization.

Their moans mixed together as they kissed to muffle the sounds. Belle's nails raked down his back as he stroked her, curling his fingers. Her walls were tight around him, and she very nearly cried out when he added a second finger and found a spot that made her hips buck.

"Wait." She choked, and he froze. Her breaths were ragged gasps, letting her chest in a lovely way. She shook her head, her swollen lips curving into a smile. "Too close. Not yet. Not without you."

The spinner groaned again, crashing his lips to hers, her cheek, her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, anything they could reach as she helped him out of his rough clothes. Suddenly he was naked above the princess - his princess - and she was looking over his bruised and battered body in the candlelight and smiling.

"You're more handsome than you think, you know." She said.

Her hands wandered down her chest to his member, stroking it with feather-soft touches as if trying to memorize it. Too much. It was too much. He caught her wrist to stop him, and she looked up at him with a worried expression.

"Not without you."

Belle nodded, beckoning him back to her with open arms. Rumpelstiltskin covered her with his body, pressing their foreheads together. She was trembling just as much as he was.

"I'll cause you as little pain as I can." He promised with a shaky breath. His member brushed her heat and both were suddenly clinging to each other.

"I trust you, Rumpelstiltskin."

Softly, he kissed his name from her lips as he positioned himself and entered her. She moaned into his lips and whimpered as he pulled back to enter her again, working his way inside inch by inch. His head swam. She was tight. Impossibly tight. He never remembered Milah being this tight. But there was something more. A weight to it all that made him focus on going slow. On pleasing her as he moved his tongue in time with his movements.

Suddenly she felt her maidenhood, and held her tighter. She made a noise of encouragement and in one fluid motion he entered her fully. Their sounds once again mixed on their lips as Belle spoke, already answering his questions.

"I'm fine. There was almost no pain. You feel so good, Rumple please don't stop."

"Never." He rasped.

And then he was moving, and she was clinging to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck to muffle her moans and whimpers and oh yes there don't stop my spinner please. It was her words that let him last so long, and his body was practically shaking with anticipation. It was only when she clung harder, wrapped her legs around him that he realized how close they both were. His lips found her ear, whispering sweet nothings. Telling her how beautiful and perfect she was and oh he never wanted this to end.

His words set her over the edge, and her body shuddered against him. Warm walls clenched around him and he nearly sobbed as he burst into stardust with her. When they had ridden it out, and she was no longer shaking he turned on his back, bringing her to lay with him by the fire as he smelled her hair and held her, letting every bit of her fill his senses before exhaustion took him and he slept soundly for the first time in years.

It was first light when he woke up. She felt too cold, even by the dwindling fire. The dream came back to him, and he sighed with a mixture of emotions to rise and clean himself before Bae woke up.

He was naked, and that explained why he'd felt so cold, but he's also been covered up by a blanket in the middle of the night. Why had he gone to bed naked...?

It wasn't until he heard the sounds from outside that it hit him. Someone was getting on a horse. Someone with a soft voice that calmed him easily. He could almost see the horse kneeling to let the petite rider on, and then there was the sounds of hooves on the ground, fading into the distant. Rumpelstiltskin layed motionless for a few moments before reaching his arm out to where she had slept beside him. It was still warm.

It had not been a dream. Princess Belle had come to him. Had wanted him. And he'd given himself. He should have been afraid. Afraid of someone finding out. Of being punished. But, somehow, in his bed by the fire, hand on the spot she'd slept the previous night, he couldn't muster it.