Part 2 of 3
It was a rare afternoon that Christopher Gold came home early from the pawnshop, but today was Halloween and tonight the streets would be filled with little ghosts and goblins in search of candy. On his way back to the old Victorian manse he shared with Bae, he'd stopped at Dark Star Pharmacy for trick or treat supplies. Already the fall and Halloween sweets were marked down to half price. At the checkout, he'd frowned in displeasure at the massive barrels of Christmas and Hanukkah candy displayed throughout the store. Gold was all for commerce and he loved a good deal, but by the gods—it wasn't even Thanksgiving yet.
He was setting out the carved jack-o'-lanterns and pouring a hodgepodge of chocolate bars into a large bowl when the doorbell rang. Gold snapped open his pocket watch as he hobbled to the door; trick or treat didn't begin for another two hours. Perhaps Bae had forgotten his key. But when he opened the door, he was surprised to see Belle French standing on the porch.
"Trick or treat," she greeted with a sunny smile. She was wearing a trench coat and tottering on a pair of towering high heels. A black canvas bag emblazoned with the words "I Cannot Live Without Books" was hooked over one shoulder.
"Miss French." Perplexed by her arrival, he smirked. "We don't start distributing candy until 6 o' clock in this neighborhood."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Gold," Belle said, and dipped her knees in a tiny curtsey. The autumn wind was sharp and cold and she crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. Curious blue eyes danced past his to rove around the hallway.
"Are our library books overdue?" He continued his cool appraisal of the lovely librarian, her chestnut curls whipping in the wind and her eyes bright with secrets.
"No." Belle giggled, an enchanting sound, and pulled a child's sweatshirt out of her bag. "Braeden left this at the library yesterday evening. The temperature is dropping and I figured he needed it back right away."
"Yes, I don't know how he'll manage," Gold said wryly, rolling his eyes as he accepted the green hoodie. "He only has twenty-five other zippered sweatshirts. I'm going bloody broke with all the Amazon deliveries to my house each week."
"I see," Belle said, looking at him expectantly.
"Was there something else?" he asked. His mask began to falter, and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. Should he invite her in for coffee?
"No." She threw him another bright smile and spun around, beginning her descent down the porch steps.
"Wait!" he called, not wanting her to leave quite yet.
"Yes?" she asked eagerly, coming to stand on the porch once more.
"Thank you for bringing this back," he said, biting back a grin as he dangled the sweatshirt in front of her face. "Good evening."
"Actually," she said, boldly stepping across the threshold and into the foyer, "there is something else." Her abrupt entrance into his home caused him to stumble back a bit, and he stared at her in confusion.
Belle untied the sash on her raincoat, allowing it to fall to the side as she unbuttoned the trench with deft fingers. Slowly, she allowed the coat to fall open, revealing a midnight black negligee. Black fishnet stockings ended just above her knees, where they were fastened with black silk garters leading up her creamy white thighs. They disappeared under the lace of the gown, and she fingered the hem of her lingerie. Gold's mouth went dry at the sight of her exquisite curves.
Belle hurtled herself into his arms. He dropped Bae's sweatshirt and caught her, staggering back under the force of her assault, but he wasn't complaining as their mouths smashed together in a searing, needy kiss. Belle traced his lips with her soft, wet tongue and he struck out wildly, stabbing the front door closed with his cane. The thick, leaded glass rattled as their bodies pressed against it and he moaned as Belle wound her hands into his hair and tugged him down in a desperate clash of tongues and teeth.
"Why – what are you doing here now?" he asked raggedly, his lips traveling down the side of her neck. "I thought we agreed to meet tonight after the damn trick or treaters are gone and Bae goes to bed."
"I couldn't wait," she murmured, peppering kisses along his jawline. "Missed you so much last night." Her warm breath in his ear made him shiver and he whimpered as she sucked his earlobe into her hot mouth. Gold's eyes fluttered closed as she cupped his groin, his body already straining against his suit pants.
Undone, he groaned in surrender. "We have just a little while before Bae's home to change into his costume," he warned as she attacked the buttons on his shirt.
"I'll be quick," Belle whispered seductively, yanking his shirttails from his trousers and dropping to her knees to begin unbuckling his belt. Gold sighed as he relaxed into her touch, reveling in the feel of her small, warm hands on his feverish skin.
The sharp, piercing ring of the house phone interrupted their impromptu tryst.
Holding his half-undone trousers by one hand, he picked up the antique receiver in the foyer and answered. "Hello?"
"Is it Bae?" Belle whispered, concern and compassion reflected in her eyes. "Everything alright?"
He nodded and smiled, telling her with a look that there were no emergencies, at least not at the moment. With a contented smile, Belle gently pushed Gold back against the Georgian wingback chair beside the telephone table, and he plopped down without thinking.
"Is it okay with her mother?" Gold's eyes closed in concentration, a feeble attempt to ignore the delicious things Belle was doing to his body while he chatted with his son.
Belle divested him of his shoes and trousers, and leaned between his spread legs to nuzzle his inner thighs. The silk of his boxer-briefs was growing hot against his crotch, and he began to perspire with the effort of focusing on his conversation.
"Let me talk to Mrs. Nolan, please," Gold said, gasping as Belle began to stroke him through the fabric. He shot her a warning look, and Belle covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
"… as long as it's fine with you, Mary Margaret," Gold told Emma's mother, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration as Belle crawled up his body to massage his shoulders and kiss his neck. "Yes, just send Bae home tomorrow after breakfast. I'll be home all evening if any need arises."
Gold dropped the receiver into the cradle haphazardly, crying out in relief that the awkward conversation was over.
"My needs are arising," Belle breathed, running her soft hands over his chest before guiding him to his feet.
"Naughty girl," he said, cupping her breasts. Her nipples were standing out against her thin silk teddy, perfect pebbles begging to be plucked and rolled between his fingertips.
"How long?" she murmured into his mouth, fitting her curves against his hollows.
"All night," he said, his sigh strangled as she slipped her hands down and around his waist, rubbing lightly over his hips, and kneading his buttocks. "Bae's been invited to spend the night at Emma Nolan's next door. On their couch, of course. That means you can spend the night here. All night. Not on the couch."
"That's excellent news," she said with a wicked grin. Tugging gently on his loosened tie, she led him up the stairs to his bedroom.
They'd been carrying on a secret affair since the beginning of October. Gold hoped they would go public eventually, but not until they discussed their relationship with Braeden. And that assumed it was all right with Belle—they hadn't discussed taking their liaison beyond the bedroom.
Not that he would blame Belle for wanting to remain incognito. With both of their less-than-pristine reputations, the town pariah and the quirky librarian were the last couple anyone would expect. Gold had parted ways with his wife and Bae's mother, Milah, soon after Braeden's first birthday. He'd caught her in bed with a door-to-door insurance salesman, and they had run off together and never returned. The betrayal had hardened his heart, and in the years since, he had earned a reputation as the town monster, an unforgiving man, ruthless in his business dealings and eschewing personal relationships beyond the one he shared with Bae.
Belle had a questionable reputation as well. The tiny hamlet of Storybrooke had a closed-minded, unspoken rule that all women over the age of twenty-five should be married; living life as a single woman simply wasn't done. At age thirty-one, Belle had been single for several years past the mandatory married age. In fact, she had evaded the standards of their small-minded society for so long that people called her the black widow.
Rumors even circulated among the children that Belle's former fiancé—who made the decision to move to Paris—had actually been murdered by the bookish beauty. A few even whispered that as revenge for breaking her heart, Belle had buried her former lover's remains in the floor of the library. He didn't know why Belle had stayed in Storybrooke long as she had, but he was grateful.
Perverse bastard that Gold was, for him the intrigue surrounding Miss French only added to her appeal. Not that he believed a word of the talk, but it kept other eligible bachelors at a distance. Content to admire her from afar, he never dared to hope that his fascination with her could develop into a real relationship—until this past October 1st. While searching for a costume for Bae, he'd come across the petite librarian at the traveling Halloween shop that visited Storybrooke every autumn. As he wavered between the Captain America and Ironman outfits for his son, Belle had suggested he consider the Tenth Doctor instead.
"Why?" he asked, puzzled.
Belle stepped closer. "Well, don't little boys want to be like their fathers?"
"How so?" Gold asked, his nostrils flaring as the delicate scent of her honeysuckle perfume wafted toward him.
Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Gold tried to tear his gaze away from her perfect rosebud mouth.
"Because the Tenth Doctor is intelligent, snarky, and devilishly handsome with a knee-buckling accent," she said. "Rather like someone else I know."
"Something wrong with your eyesight, dearie?" he'd snapped. Gold loathed game-playing.
"No," she said, daring to edge near enough to run a gentle finger down the side of his cheek. "I see you quite clearly."
Gold stared at Belle in disbelief.
"There is one difference, though," she said.
"What's that?" he asked, detaching his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
"Ten likes blondes." She fingered a russet curl. "I have brown hair."
Was she coming on to him, the Scourge of Storybrooke? Then again, he was the only other unmarried person over the age of twenty-five living within a fifty-mile radius. Her choices were limited.
Their banter had led to a coffee date, and before long, Gold and Belle were inseparable. Out of deference to Bae and respect for Belle, however, their love affair had been confined to overnight hours only.
Belle would sneak over to spend time with him most nights once Braeden was asleep. Later, after they made love, she would tiptoe out the back door, through the pumpkin field behind the Gold residence, and down the hill to her own house. Each night, she borrowed one of Gold's white button-down shirts for the short walk home. Belle said she loved to have his scent surrounding and comforting her all night long. He never wore those shirts, anyway, preferring darker colors, and buttoning little Belle into the too-large garment had become a foolish romantic routine that he adored.
Now, as they entered the master bedroom, Belle peeled off her negligée and the silk pooled at her feet in a whisper. She pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed with a gleam in her eyes, and he could see that his sweet temptress was determined to take full advantage of these precious stolen hours.
xoxo
Content in the circle of Gold's arms, Belle slept for a few minutes until guilt prodded her awake. She stared down at the man she loved. His eyes were closed, the furrows and lines in his face relaxed in sleep. He was a good man, a fair man—despite what people claimed—and he loved his little boy.
Another wave of guilt crashed over her. Last night at the library she had advised Braeden to confess the truth about his feelings, but she hadn't done the same. Here she was, crazy about the man in her arms, and she hadn't said a word. She'd tried to show him with her body how much she cared, but deep down she knew she was being a coward. Actions were important, but a person needed to hear that they were loved and valued. Do the brave thing, Belle.
"Christy, when are you going to tell Braeden about us?" Belle ventured, propping her elbows up on his bare chest.
Putting the burden on him, Belle? Ok, that's one way to go about it.
"Did you want me to?" he asked, opening eyes as steady and sharp as lasers.
She hid her face in his neck, flushing with embarrassment as a horrible thought crossed her mind: "Are you ashamed of me?"
"Belle, no! Of course not." Gold sat up to face her, lifting her chin with his fingers. "Sweetheart, look at me. How could you think that?"
She took a deep breath. "Well, with the exception of today, we only see each other at night. I didn't know if maybe...my reputation…." Belle trailed off, furious with herself for reminding Gold of why a relationship with her was a bad idea.
The lies cycling through the Storybrooke rumor mill didn't sting too badly—she was used to censure—but it wasn't fair to drag him down to her level. But she had fallen hard and fast, and she didn't want to let him go. She'd become downright selfish where this man was concerned. Yes, she would take whatever part of his life he was willing to give.
"No." He pressed a kiss to her open palm. "First of all, I'm the last person who should question another's reputation. Second, I planned on discussing this with you later tonight, but then this naughty minx showed up at my door and trapped me in my bed in broad daylight. And third," he began. "Oh, damn."
"What's wrong?" Belle cringed. Was he going to break things off with her?
"I can't think with you naked and gorgeous in my bed, covered in nothing but a thin, white sheet," he said huskily. Gold's pupils darkened as he bent his head to her breast, suckling her nipple through the shroud.
Belle covered her relief with a mock pout. "Should I leave, then? Oh!" The combined friction of his clever mouth and the soft sheet rubbing against her aroused body was driving every thought out of her head. "Should I steal another of your white shirts and….mmmmm, that's good…traipse back across the pumpkin patch….oh!"
"Not a chance," he murmured, dragging his mouth away from her breast to lick a scorching path from her chest to her collarbone. Gold flung the sheet over both their heads and reversed direction, kissing his way down Belle's stomach. Then with a wicked laugh that made her heart stutter, he buried his head between her legs.
The doorbell rang and the vague shouts and squeals of youngsters filtered through the windows.
"Shouldn't you get that?" Belle asked weakly as he nuzzled her sensitive inner thighs with his stubbled cheeks.
"Blasted trick or treaters," he complained, and the muffled sound of his voice under the sheet made her laugh in delight; his frustrated glower was positively adorable. "Let them wait!" he barked from beneath the cover.
"Yes," she agreed on a moan, tugging on his hair to spur him on as the doorbell chimed a second and third time.
She still hadn't confessed that she loved him, but with Gold intent on devouring her, Belle was too far gone to care.
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The conclusion will be posted this afternoon/evening.