This is the complete prompt from Rumbelle for the Win: Rumbelle Key Party AU: Milah convinces her husband Mr. Gold to have them host a Key Party (where men place their car keys in a bowl and at the end of the evening the women randomly pick a key out of the bowl and go home with that person). Milah so happens to pick the keys of Killian Jones with whom she is already having an affair and Belle, the town's librarian, picks Mr. Gold's keys who vice versa has feelings for her. BONUS if Zelena makes an appearance and is jealous of Belle going home with Gold.
This story contains smut and fluff.
Keys
His marriage was falling apart. He knew it. She knew it.
He still wanted to work on things. He wasn't the type to give up on anything. He had never given up on anything. Never. At no time.
Rumford Gold was a success story. He had started out dirt poor, an orphan by default after his mother had died and his father had abandoned him. With no resources other than his head and his hands, he had worked his way through college, eventually earning his law degree. He'd specialized in real estate law and legal contracts. He'd returned to his home town, the place where long ago he'd settled as a ten year old with two maiden aunts, and there he had set up a modest little office. He had begun investing here and there in different properties. It hadn't happened over night, but he had done well, very well, eventually owning nearly half the land and buildings in Storybrooke, mostly in the low rent side of town.
Then things had begun to pick up. It had begun slowly with different people coming to him for loans after they had been turned down by the one and only local bank in town. He'd opened the antiquities shop as he came to understand just what these people were willing to let him have in return for cold, hard cash. The shop had allowed him to indulge in his interests in acquiring beautiful, desirable items.
One of those coming to him early on had been Zoso Rostovich. Zoso lived the high life, with a large beautiful house and land, a racy late model car, tailored clothing, a lovely wife, even lovelier girlfriends, and one very beautiful but rather spoiled daughter. Everything looked perfect from the outside. Zoso owned the Frontlands Fish Cannery that employed many of the townspeople. Unbeknownst to everyone, the cannery had fallen on hard times. The bank wasn't willing to come through with money having declared Zoso and his profligate lifestyle a poor risk. Gold had looked the man in the eye and recognized someone cut from the same cloth as himself. He had lent him the money, a rather large sum. It had paid off handsomely with an excellent return. Zoso had not only repaid the money, he had introduced Gold to The Lifestyle. Gold learned quickly and soon began dressing and dining the part he was playing. When the owners of one of the oldest, most beautiful homes in town died, Gold bought the property from the children for a song, knowing they couldn't even afford the taxes on the place. When Zoso's lovely daughter caught his eye, he courted her briefly, quickly proposed and then married the very spirited Milah Rostovich.
Things were good for a while. He had a successful business, a beautiful home, a lovely wife. If he didn't have respect from his fellow townspeople, he was at least feared by them. His life felt perfect.
It was then that he began to experience some very real satisfaction when some of the very same people, the richest folks who prided themselves on coming from long lines of superior breeding, those who had rejected him growing up, rejected him as a startup attorney, rejected him as a beginning businessman, when these very same people came to him for loans, for extensions, for special considerations.
He had come to recognize these desperate people very quickly. They would come around in their designer clothing and their designer tans and their designer hair. They would usually wait until almost closing time, slink into his shop and ask for a minute of his time. They would talk in hushed tones explaining that their situation was temporary and they just needed a "little money" before things turned around. He would listen sympathetically, establish some sort of collateral, draw up a contract, and loan them the money.
He would then watch them.
There were a few who were genuinely thankful, who would act grateful, who would begin to interact with him as someone they now respected, but most still treated him as dirt, not wanting anyone to know they owed him anything. It was for those in the latter group that he enjoyed enacting the 'failure to pay' clauses of their contracts. He soon owned more than half the town and was making strong in-roads into the high end part of town.
Then Milah had become pregnant and they'd had a child, a boy, Bayson, Bae for short. He was a healthy, happy, bright child, every parent's dream.
Everything should have been wonderful.
But it wasn't.
Milah wasn't happy. She was bored. She would tell him that he was boring, his work was boring, his life was boring. She despised staying home taking care of the house and the child. She wanted to be out partying, shopping, drinking, lounging poolside at exclusive resorts. When Bae was a year old, to appease his wife and give her more free time, Gold decided to hire a nanny, a young newlywed who was already working part-time every weekend and every Wednesday afternoon at the library, Belle Gaston. This would allow Milah to spend her time with like-minded women, playing cards and tennis, shopping and indulging in two hundred dollar lunches.
Belle, the nanny, would come to the house to care for his son and soon she began to pick up on many of the household chores, the cleaning, the cooking, the laundering and so forth, doing these jobs with a smile. On the few occasions their paths crossed, he would often hear her singing off-key as she worked. He once caught her 'dancing' with his son, holding the giggling baby in her arms while she waltzed around the room singing Be Our Guest. Gold had watched her in the shadows and stepped back before she saw him.
As Bae grew, it was quite evident that the child adored Belle, clearly preferring her company over that of his own mother's. Over the first year that Belle worked for him, Gold had managed a few conversations with the quiet young woman. She usually didn't meet his eyes and spoke in a soft, hushed voice. She kept the conversations focused on his son, lauding Bae's accomplishments, praising the child's early language development, extolling his motor coordination.
Then there was that time he had come home in the middle of the afternoon for some contract papers and found the house quiet. Milah was gone - who knew where. Bae was taking his nap. Belle, he found in his plush study sitting sideways in his pricey leather desk chair with her back up against one of the upholstered arms and her shapely legs over the other arm. She was engrossed in reading one of his law books. She startled when he came in, leaping up from his chair, dumping the book on the floor, and profusely apologizing for intruding into his work space.
"Do you come in here often?" he had asked her sounding harsher than he'd intended to.
She stammered, "I . . . I . . . when Bae is having his nap, sometimes I come in here looking for something to read." She hastily picked up the book standing nervously like a school girl called to the principal's office.
He took the book from her that she had been reading. "And the best thing you could find was this book on contract law?"
"I didn't know anything about the topic so. . . I thought I'd read about it," she told him ingenuously. "I'm sorry I came into your office. I didn't touch anything else. I . . . "
He held up his hands as she rushed an apology. "It's fine. You're more than welcome to read any of the books in here.''
She seemed relieved but her hands continued to twist together anxiously. "Thank you, sir." She glanced at him and then immediately looked away.
"Have you read other law books?" he asked her curiously. Law books were not known for their biting wit, their crisp pacing or their interesting characters.
"A few sir," she whispered.
"You are welcome to come in anytime unless, of course, I have a client in here," he told her, repeating himself, intentionally softening his voice this time thinking she was an odd young woman.
He walked around her noting her nervousness. Was she nervous because he was her boss, because he was the richest man in town or . . . or was there something else? Standing this close to her he couldn't help but notice the light, sweet scent of the woman buffered by the faintest touch of baby powder.
Up until this moment, he had known she was attractive but nothing more had registered; after all, he knew many attractive women. But now standing this close to her, he could see that she was perfect, with skin like porcelain, shining cerulean blue eyes, dusty pink lips looking sweet and soft. She was wearing a cross-backed apron to keep her clothes clean; it might have looked dowdy on any other woman, but it seemed to enhance the gentle curves of her figure, the apron swelling to accommodate her breasts and her hips.
"Sir?" He heard her speak and realized that he had been staring. Hell, he'd been more than staring. He had started down the seductive road of fantasy, imaging this woman wrapping herself around him, kissing him with those soft pink lips, whispering his name as he kissed along her neck, crying out his name as he surged into her.
It was his turn to be nervous. "I . . . I . ." he stammered. "I was just here to pick up some paperwork."
"I need to check on Bae, sir. He usually wakes up about now and I like to be close by." She gave him a gentle smile and a nod and ducked out.
Shit, he thought. He'd been too long without any sexual outlet. He needed a cold shower. He needed to avoid her whenever he could. He told himself that for all his other failings he wasn't the type of man to despoil a paid employee.
Belle had nearly run to the baby's room. It wasn't actually time for Bae to wake up but she had desperately needed to get out of that room. Except for a brief encounter when she had first been hired, this was as close as she'd ever been to the man and he was even more attractive than she had remembered, than he had seemed from afar - compact, with the impression of explosive strength coiled and waiting to strike. He'd always seemed dangerous to her, very dangerous, and that impression was not lessened a whit by proximity.
But he also was incredibly attractive, seductive and . . . just plain sexy.
Belle readily acknowledged her own sex life was, at best, lackluster. Gary was an in-out, slam-bam, I-got-mine kind of lover, supremely over-confident regarding his bedroom skills, totally disregarding his partner's needs. He seemed to feel that just because the sex was with him, well that should be enough. With Gary, Belle could never see any appeal of sex; it was just another chore that she had to check off.
But with this man, this dark, intense man who radiated power, she felt things just standing next to him, things that she had never felt with Gary even when he was doing The Deed. She felt her heart pounding surely he must have heard it. She felt a throbbing between her legs and was aware of heat and moisture pooling between her thighs. Could he possibly smell her arousal? She knew her nipples had hardened. If he looked at her he could probably see them peaking against her apron. She found that her breathing had become shallow and it was hard to talk.
My stars, she thought, what would it be like if he actually turned his amorous attentions onto her. She would likely just melt into a puddle of goo and slobber on him. He was a married man, she told herself. She was a married woman. They were both off-limits. He was her employer and she certainly wasn't the type of woman to try to seduce the man who was paying her salary.
She needed to avoid him whenever she could.
. . . . But they hadn't been successful in avoiding each other.
Instead, over the next year, they increasingly sought each other out.
Saturday morning was one of his special times with his son. He would typically take Bae to the Preschool Story Hour at the Library. Belle had become The One to read to the little ones. Often she would have one of the children on her lap or leaning on her while she stroked their hair or patted their backs. She introduced each book like it was the best one they had ever heard, showing them the pictures, pointing out things on the pages, asking simple questions many of the little ones could answer and then praising them for their listening skills and their good answers. She often picked out books in which the children could participate with reciting repetitive phrasing or making little motions that went with the words. She was a big hit with the four-and-under crowd. Afterwards, while three-year old Bae would roam the picture book section, Gold would ask her for a recommendation for a book to read, sometimes for Bae, sometimes for himself.
On Wednesday afternoons on her way to the Library, Belle would drop Bae off at his shop and he would close up for the afternoon. He would usually take Bae to the park. Sometimes he would see her later, walking home from the Library and he would offer her a ride. She never accepted a ride. Sometimes he would offer for her to share in an ice cream treat at the diner. This she sometimes accepted.
They would talk during these times, Belle gradually becoming more comfortable around him. He had quickly seen that she was not only beautiful but was very bright, able to hold her own in discussions of politics, philosophy and public responsibilities. He realized that he enjoyed her company, not only for the intellectual stimulation she was able to provide but the sheer pleasure of being the possible recipient of one of her radiant smiles. Life would never be dull around Ms. Gaston.
Belle did find herself beginning to look forward to the times she could spend with Mr. Gold. He had seemed so cold and forbidding when she'd first met him, but she saw now that he was an intensely driven man, wanting to provide the best for his family, wanting to be the best father he could be. He was, or perhaps she should say, he could be, a kind man. She had caught him with the rental books one afternoon wherein she couldn't help but notice that he was charging a well-to-do store owner more for the rent for his apartment than he charged a hard-working widow with three children for a comparable apartment in the same building. He had smirked at her and held his finger in front of his mouth ("Shh, don't tell anyone," he had cautioned her.) He had an acerbic wit that no doubt rubbed many people the wrong way, but she heard the undertones of self-loathing that were often there and realized that this was a man who did not feel he was ever quite good enough.
She thought he was remarkable.
"Why don't we try to spice things up?" Milah suggested one evening. She had always been a sultry woman and dressed the part, wearing slinky form-fitting dresses and exotic perfume. She was being surprisingly attentive this particular evening.
"What? You mean - toys?" He wasn't sure about this: fur-lined restraints, paddles, dildos, vibrating wands? None of that appealed to him.
Milah sighed. "I can't see you ever getting into toys . . . or anything creative for that matter. No, I'm thinking of . . . expanding our personal options," she explained vaguely, kissing him on his neck.
Gold shook his head. He was glad Milah was talking about this with him but he wasn't getting what she was talking about. No clue. And he no longer found her kissing him to be arousing.
"Maybe we need to experiment with some other people," she explained finally getting to her point.
Gold sat open-mouthed. Adultery. She was talking about sleeping with. . . not sleeping with . . . fucking . . . other people.
Milah was now standing behind him, leaning over him, massaging his shoulders. She leaned down to talk into his ear, softening her voice, "Maybe we can learn something."
"Maybe we can get an infectious disease." He got up. "I don't know about this Milah. I mean, I don't even know how we'd go about . . . doing such a thing."
"Let me make the arrangements, darling. I'll invite some other like-minded couples over. The men will put their keys in a bowl and the women will pull out a set. Whoever they pull out, well, they get to go home with that man."
Gold still wasn't sure. There wasn't a woman he wanted to . . . sleep with . . . or fuck. He sat for a moment. Well maybe there was someone. But he had refused to allow himself to think about her that way.
"I'll think about it," he told Milah.
He had not gotten back with her so it was a considerable surprise when he came home late one Friday evening to find a number of cars in his driveway. As he got out of his Cadillac and walked up to the front door, he could hear raucous laughing and music. He opened the door and was greeted by a clearly tipsy Milah.
"Darling. Bae is spending the night with the Nolan's. We've all been waiting for you. Come in. You're the last man," and she reached into his pocket to pull out his car keys. She carried them with her and ceremoniously dropped them into a large bowl.
Gold saw a number of people, the women dressed in carelessly revealing styles, most two or three drinks ahead of him. He was handed a glass of whiskey and took a sip. There was a lot of nervous giggling and overly-loud laughter. Some of the men had already started to put their hands on the women in a disturbingly familiar manner. He was decidedly uncomfortable.
He looked around. In one corner was the redhead Zelena, who was making her way over to him. Her live-in boyfriend, Walsh, was talking with a shapely gorgeous brown-eyed blonde that he didn't know. Walsh called her something that sounded like "Tink." Zelena and Walsh both owed him money.
Zelena, frankly, repulsed him. She was always pawing and excessively handsie with him, always touching his arm and hair. She had been pretty blatant with her desires, letting him know that she'd be happy to exchange favors for some of the money she owed him. He didn't want her to select him; he was genuinely concerned that she might be packing a pair of handcuffs and things would end up with him in a cage somewhere off the grid. He turned to walk in another direction away from Zelena.
He looked around to see if there was anyone else he knew. He didn't see Zelena's younger sister, Regina – now she was eminently do-able, but apparently, if she'd even been asked, she had opted to stay home. No doubt her fireman, what was his name? was keeping her quite content waving his big hose around.
He also saw Ashley and Thomas, a feckless young couple who also owed him money. Ashley certainly didn't appeal to him with her room temperature IQ. At the moment, Ashley was hanging on a swarthy, taller man wearing a single earring and a long leather coat. Milah was also hanging on the same man. Thomas was trying to get Zelena's attention but she had clearly brushed him off.
Another conspicuously absent couple were the delectable Mary Margaret and David Nolen – oh yes, they were the ones who were keeping Bae for the night. Honestly, Gold would have been surprised to see them at this unsavory type of soiree – they only ever seemed to have eyes for each other. A bit disappointing, Gold might have enjoyed bedding the exquisite Mary Margaret.
There was only one other couple and Gold's breath caught in his throat. He saw the man first, a big lummox of a man - Gary Gaston. Why on earth . . . ? He had never suspected anything awry in Belle's marriage - she had never indicated in any way that there were any problems in her marriage – but then she had never really talked about her personal life. Everything they had shared with each other had been about Bae . . . or books or politics or philosophy or polite topics for conversation, not personal affairs. He looked around the room intent on finding the one person he had respect and feelings for. She was standing off to one side, clearly uncomfortable with the entire outing while her bumpkin of a husband was in the process of regaling Ashley, Milah and Leather Boy with his history of athletic prowess.
Gold was even less sure of this whole affair than when Milah had first brought it up. It was licentious. It was sinful. It was wrong.
He looked over the women. All of them were beautiful and to the casual observer, all were desirable. He gave a second thought to the bored little blonde, Tink, who had apparently come in with the swarthy leather boy. She was downing tequila shots and looked like she just wanted the whole thing to be over.
And then there was Belle. . . How would he feel when she drew out the keys of one of these loser guys and went off with them to spend an evening of casual sex? How would he feel dare he think it if she drew out his keys.
Anxious to get on with things, it was Milah who called the party together. "The sooner we ladies make our choices, the sooner we're on our way to fun and games. Now ladies, we each draw for a set of keys. If you draw out your husband's, put the keys back and draw again. We certainly don't want to be going home with our own husbands." She laughed and Gold couldn't stop the surge of disgust he had for his wife. How long had he felt this way about the woman?
When all the women had pulled keys out, they went around the room, revealing the keys and the man would step forward.
Belle looked at the keys in her hands. She didn't recognize them. She was extremely uncomfortable, actually sick to her stomach. Why, why had she ever agreed to this? Gary had pressed her so, bullied her and she had caved, not wanting to go through the on-going ridicule and criticism that he was heaping on her. He'd called her a prude, a boring bitch and she knew it would certainly get worse if she continued to say, 'no.' She would have still refused if she had known the Golds were involved, but she didn't know this until this evening, when they pulled up to the grand house.
She had been so disappointed in Mr. Gold. But now here, she could see that he was as uncomfortable as she was. This was clearly all Ms. Gold's idea. Belle hoped the keys she had in her hand didn't belong to that awful Mr. Jones who'd come all in leather – she didn't get good vibes from him. Milah had shared directly with Belle and in Belle's hearing when talking with other women how truly amazing and wonderful Mr. Jones was. Her remarks left nothing to the imagination and Belle knew that Milah was having an affair with the man. How could she do that when she had Mr. Gold at home? Some of the other men were all right, but none were anyone she wanted to have sex with. The only man here she might want to have sex with was. . . Mr. Gold.
What would she do if she had pulled someone else's keys?
What would she do if she had pulled Mr. Gold's keys?
Milah went first and it had to have been rigged in some manner she had drawn keys belonging to the swarthy guy, Jones, she had been draping herself around earlier. Milah kissed the guy, rubbing herself over him like a cat in heat. They stumbled out the door together and shortly, all could hear the roar of a car as they took off.
Then it was Zelena's turn. She gave Gold a big smile, which he supposed she thought was inviting - it gave him the shivers. She held up a pair . . . he held his breath . . . Gaston's keys. Clearly disappointed, she went over to the big half-wit who obviously thought he'd hit the jackpot. He told Zelena how hot he thought she was with Belle standing right there in the room. As they walked by Gold, Zelena ran her hand across Gold's chest. "Maybe next time, darling." She stopped Gary from going out the door. "I want to see who everyone goes out with," she told him.
The pretty blonde came next and held up keys that turned out to belong to Thomas.
"Come on," she told him and grabbed him by his tie, leading him out.
Then Ashley held up the pair of keys that she had drawn and she got Zelena's beau. She had smiled shyly at him and the two then left in Walsh's Miatta.
Gold and Belle were the only two left.
"Well, so you got the little mouse," Zelena said to him. "From what I hear, you two are likely to be bored to pieces. Sure you don't want to try a foursome?"
"No, thank you," Gold said and began to usher her and Gary toward the front door. He felt relief when he was able to close the door behind Zelena.
This left Belle and Gold alone in an empty house.
"Ms. Gaston," he began. "This was all Milah's idea. I'm not sure that I . . ."
"I'm not good enough for you?" she interrupted him asking. Oh no, what if. . . what if he didn't want her? She could understand it if he didn't want to do the whole sex thing, but not to even want to spend time with her?
"Oh no, oh god, no," he said quickly. "It's just that I never wanted. . . I mean. . . this was all Milah's idea," he ended lamely.
Belle looked at him. The man seemed miserable. "Would you have been happier if one of the other women had gotten your keys?" she asked in a low tone.
"No. . . if anyone were to get my keys . . . I'm glad it was you."
"Really?" she asked hopefully. Thank goodness.
"Really. Ms. Gaston, listen, we don't have to do anything." He poured himself a second whisky and offered her one. She took it and had a sip, making a face.
"Gary thought it would be a good idea for us to swing with other couples. He says he's bored with me."
"How could a man get bored with you?" he asked without thinking. "You're perfect."
She smiled and took another sip. "I'm not very . . . I'm not very good at sex, according to Gary. He is disappointed in me. . . because I don't. . . I don't enjoy it."
Gold looked her up and down. She was dressed in a simple gold dress with sky-high strappy gold sandals. The dress was too short, revealing too much leg, and too low cut, revealing too much of her sweet tender cleavage. What kind of man would want his wife to go out in such a revealing dress? He took another sip of his whiskey. "Usually when a woman doesn't enjoy sex, it's because she has a clumsy partner," he told her.
Belle sighed. "Gary thinks he's god's gift to women. So if either of us has a problem, it has to be me."
Gold put his glass down and walked over to Belle. Lightly, he traced his fingers up her arm and then, slowly, he traced his thumb along her lips. She shivered but didn't pull away. "Why don't you finish the drink and we can talk."
Belle dutifully took sip after sip of the potent liquor. She began to smile more and more with each sip. Gold guided her into his office with its books and its comfortable sofa and had her sit down next to him. In the dim light of this room her skin seemed to glow a soft white.
"Before we got married, he had promised me that I would never have to work, that he would provide everything I could possibly want. I believed him. He was the high school football hero and I . . . I was the nerdy brain. I thought I was so fortunate that he had ever noticed me."
Gold listened quietly to her story, occasionally allowing his hand to drift over one of her arms.
"I had wanted to go to college but my dad couldn't afford to send me. I had scholarship money but it wouldn't have been enough. Turned out that Gary's job didn't really pay that much. When I told him about me wanting to go to college he went ballistic and yelled that he didn't want me running up any more debts and forbade me to borrow the money. That's when I started working for you. What you're paying me, well some of it is going toward my hope-to-go-to-college fund."
"Only some of it?" Gold asked. He had become enchanted by the changing color of her eyes which was shifting in the intensity of the blue.
"Well. . . Gary takes a lot of it and. . . he . . . " Belle sighed. "He says that he needs to have some fun after working hard all day and that I'm so unpleasant and impossible to live with, so he takes it and goes out drinking. . . and . . . ." Belle closed her eyes. When she opened them, Gold could see that tears had formed and were threatening to overflow.
"He's seeing other women?" Gold asked her.
"Yeah, well, you know what it's like to live with someone who's cheating on you, what with Milah and that Killian Jones character she was all over this evening."
"What?!" He knew Milah wasn't happy but he hadn't suspected she was having an affair.
Belle had paled. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry. You didn't know! It's. . . I thought that you . . . I mean. . . she was so obvious with it around me . . . I'm so sorry." Her hand had come up to touch his cheek. "I can't imagine what she sees in Killian, especially when she has someone like you at home."
Milah cheating on him. Well now a lot of things made sense. Her long absences, the strange smell which she had told him was her new perfume, the new pieces of jewelry she would sometimes wear, hell, there were flowers that had appeared which she'd assured him that she had sent herself . . . to brighten things up.
How could he have been so stupid?
"It would seem, Ms. Gaston, that we are both in unhappy marriages," he said to her.
"It would seem so," she told him, her eyes meeting his. "Mr. Gold. If you aren't comfortable with us doing anything. . . "
"Please, call me Rum," he told her.
"Rum, if you don't want to . . ."
"Ms. Gaston," he interrupted.
"Call me Belle, please," she asked him.
"Belle. I have to confess. I have thought about you, like this, in my office, just you and me. Are you . . . are you all right with me . . . touching you?" he asked.
Looking into the man's soft whiskey-brown eyes, listening to his quiet seductive voice, Belle realized that she had indeed turned to goo.
Let the slobbering commence.
She managed the merest hint of a nod and a whispered, "Yes."
He gave her a trace of a smile and just trailed his fingers up and down her arms and then, very, very slowly, he allowed one hand to stop on the side of her breast. He pressed inward and slid his hand over so that he was cupping her. Her eyes were locked with his. His thumb was positioned so that it was set on the edge of her low cut neckline. Very, very gently, he used his thumb to pull down the top of the dress revealing even more of her creamy breast. He leaned in and kissed her, then moved his fingers up to the straps of the dress and pulled them down. He lifted his head so that he could look at her when he slipped the top of her dress down, revealing her plump little breasts. Using both hands he caressed her, teasing the nipples with his thumbs, pleased that the little nubs had immediately hardened with his slight touch. Unable to resist, he lifted one breast to his mouth, suckling on the nipple, all the while caressing, gently massaging the other breast.
Belle felt dizzy. Barely, she managed to gasp out, "I've had thoughts about you," she confessed.
Thoughts – hardly. This was the man who had figured prominently in her most fevered fantasies. The man who could make her run hot and cold just standing next to her. This was the man she had imagined kissing her, touching her, taking her.
And he was being so gentle, taking his time, so not like Gary whose idea of foreplay was "Hey babe, you up?" Gold's mouth on her breast, his tongue and teeth teasing her nipple, was extraordinarily stimulating and she didn't want him to stop. When he did stop, she moaned but soon was purring under his touch again when he simply switched his attentions to the other breast. When he finally pulled back, he stopped only a moment and then he kissed her, kissed her directly on the mouth, just pressing his lips to hers.
"You taste delicious," he told her, pulling back for a brief moment.
He then kissed her again.
It started slowly, at first their lips just pressing together, but then as her mouth softened under his, she opened to him and he angled his mouth cautiously letting his tongue slip over the inside of her lips and then slipping in to further explore her. Tentatively, she allowed her own tongue to follow his and was rewarded when she heard him groan. Gary had never kissed her like this.
Somehow Belle managed to put her hands on the man's jacket, unbuttoning it, pushing it off his shoulders. He shrugged out of the coat and continued kissing her while she worked to unbutton his vest. That too came off. Then she went after his tie, unknotting it and pulling it through the collar. Then his shirt was unbuttoned and pulled off. His mouth had left hers and she began to kiss his neck, down his chest, licking him, circling her tongue around his own hardened male nipples. He tasted pretty delicious himself.
"Let's get you out of this," he tugged at her dress and Belle lifted her body so that between them, they could pull it off, pulling it down her body. She wore a pair of golden lacy panties beneath the dress. Along with the golden colored sandals, this was all she wore. She sat on the sofa and in front of her, he dropped to his knees between her legs. He began to kiss along her body, kissing down to her stomach and down to the top of the panties.
"Oh, I don't know about this," she told him, suddenly pulling back. Gary had never tried anything like this (he'd told her that she was just "too yucky down there.") and she was frightened. What if he didn't like her? What if she was "too yucky?"
"I won't hurt you," he promised. "I'll go slowly. You'll like it. Tell me to stop if it gets too much." And he started kissing her again, all along the panty line. He notched his fingers on the edge of the panties and slowly pulled them down, revealing her most intimate area to him. He maneuvered his body and her legs so that he could bring the panties down her legs and then off, but then he held on to the scrap of underwear, bringing it to his nose to inhale her feminine scent. "Delicious," she heard him murmur as she closed her eyes against the intimacy of his action. Still kneeling between her legs he ran his hands up her smooth and silky skin. He began to kiss her on the insides of her knees and now, very, very slowly he began to work his way up. By the time he got to the tops of her thighs, to the juncture of her legs, that place they came together, she was mewling but was still very tense. He shifted her position so that one of her legs went over his shoulder, opening her to his gaze.
"I don't want to disappoint you if nothing happens," she managed to gasp out.
"My sweet girl. I can promise you. Something's going to happen." And she caught the trace of a smile as he bent to kiss her again, this time more intent on his goal. He whispered soothing words to her as he moved in closer and closer and she could feel his breath on her most secret, most delicate place. Then he touched her with his fingers, moving them around and around, then up and down on the side, not quite touching but constantly rubbing near her rapidly distending clit. Once he used her burgeoning moisture to lubricate his finger and gently slid it into her.
It took him only a little time to get her to a panting, thrashing mess, begging him, crying out for . . . something. He thought she was close enough and aroused enough to manage direct stimulation and set his mouth on her clit at the same time he slipped a second finger into her.
Belle screamed, a most unladylike, un-librarian, un-nanny loud scream as her body imploded, all sensation gathering between her legs at the point he was kissing. She jerked and spasmed, losing all semblance of control as he continued to use his tongue to provide her pressure, to provide her pleasure and to satisfy himself. She fell back as the throbbing sensation slowly faded, her body softening, relaxing to a near boneless state. He gave her a little time to recover and then, "Let's get more comfortable," he told her and helped her to her shaky feet. Belle felt vulnerable wearing only her golden sandals while Gold was still wearing his pants and shoes. He wrapped his arms around her and guided her purposely into the guest bedroom (he certainly wasn't going to have her in the bed he and Milah shared). He set her on the large bed that dominated the center of the room.
He then sat on the edge of the bed and removed his socks and shoes himself, kicking them across the room in his haste to disrobe for the woman. She reached for his belt. He allowed her to unfasten the belt and pull it through the loops. She then unfastened his pants and helped slide them down his legs. He was left clad only in his boxers. Belle was fascinated by the distention evident in the man's boxers and she bashfully put her hand on him.
He happily allowed her timid exploration of his body. Her shy touch, eager but untutored, pleased and pleasured him more than any other woman had ever done. She would often glance at his face to see if she was pleasing him.
"You're doing fine," he encouraged her. She knelt and determinedly pulled on the band of the boxers, taking them off his hips and down his body.
"I'm rather nervous," she confessed. "You're so much. . . larger than Gary."
Gold was surprised, given Gary's overall size. Apparently there was a fair amount of compensation going on with the guy. At the same time, he couldn't help but be flattered.
He was stunned by Belle's next move which was to drop her mouth to him. She began to kiss him along his length, down and up again, culminating in taking him into her mouth. Belle was intrigued with the taste of the man, musky and spicy, pleasant not that stale locker room smell that Gary often sported. She focused on exploring his unique texture with her tongue. He entwined his fingers in her hair and she continued, sucking and twirling her tongue around him, enjoying his occasional moans. He abruptly pulled her off.
"That's enough," he said roughly and pushed her back. "Belle, I need to get a condom." Where the hell did he have a condom?
"I'm on the pill."
He had the briefest moment of debate. He was concerned – what if either one of them had unwittingly picked up some nasty disease from their unfaithful partners but lust and not being quite sure where he might have some condoms won over. He returned to her and gathered her into his arms, lying mostly on top of her.
"You sure you want to do this . . . with me?" he asked.
"More than anything, more than anyone else," she told him.
That was all the invitation he needed. He pulled himself on top of her body and holding onto her shoulders, he lined himself up and began to push himself in. He could tell she was having difficulties accommodating him and stopped a moment to allow her to adjust. When he set his hand so that it was on top of her now overly sensitive clit and began to move, she surprised them both by orgasming suddenly, hard and fast, her spasms pulling him deeper inside.
She held on to him. "I wasn't expecting that," she managed to tell him. He had removed his hand and was kissing her along her neck, her cheeks, coming back to her silken mouth.
"You okay?" he had to ask.
"Better than okay," she managed to tell him and cantered her hips up to meet his. He still had a couple of inches to go before he would be fully encased so he slowly began to thrust, determinedly making ground. When he finally was entirely sheathed, he began to move faster, pounding up against her over and over and over. This time, he felt her beginning to build. He felt her nails go into his shoulders. Her legs were wrapped around him and she began to shatter, her inner muscles clenching around him, pushing him over the edge. He felt himself spurting into her, long, deep, satisfying releases of his seed. He collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily.
They remained attached for a while. He was in a daze and it took a moment for him to feel her hands on his shoulders, patting him, holding him. He managed to pull up. "I don't want to leave you," he told her. She just smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his chin.
He lay back down on top of her. Belle held onto him. She had never felt more cherished than she felt with this man. He was remarkable . . . kind . . . caring. What was wrong with Milah that she didn't want this man? She realized that he had dozed off. She put her hand on his hair, relishing their closeness.
She must have dozed off.
She awoke with her entire body throbbing with pleasure – He had brought her off while she was still asleep! Her eyes had flown open. "Wha? Ohh!" she caught his glance, he was smiling at her, apparently quite pleased with himself. She was lying on her back and he was on his side, his hand between her legs.
"Sweet girl," he ordered her. "Turn over onto your stomach." As she complied, trusting this man, he then had her get up onto her knees, resting her shoulders and upper body on the bed while she raised her bottom. He positioned himself kneeling behind her and this time his entry was smoother, immediately impaling her up to the hilt. She gasped and he stopped, not wanting to cause her any discomfort and recognizing that she might need a moment to get adjusted. He kept one hand on her haunches, rubbing her, cooing soft nonsense words to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how desirable. Slowly he began to thrust. He then gently snaked his other hand around her hips, holding his hand so that her delicate mound was forced into him with each push of his body. The double stimulation was intense and she began to shiver and shake. The pleasure began to build steadily and without abatement. When it hit, she heard her own voice, keening, crying out, long and loud echoing the waves of ecstasy that washed over her.
And then it happened again.
Gold managed to ride out the first wave, holding himself in check with near grim determination but when the woman began to spasm around him again he lost it, pouring himself into her with a force so great that he began to black out, collapsing on top of her, barely able to roll to one side so that he didn't crush her. She crawled into his arms, trembling. He realized he was shaking too and clung to her as she snuggled against him. They both fell into a deep sleep, clinging to each other, exhausted and satiated.
There was dawn peeking through the window when Belle flickered her eyes open. She took a moment to realize where she was and who she was with. They were still holding on to each other, both lying on their sides, her back to his front. As soon as she stirred, he squinted his eyes open.
"So it wasn't a dream," he muttered and pulled her closer.
Belle planted little kisses along his arm, her backside spooning into his front. "Rum," she began, not exactly sure what she wanted to say.
"Yes, love?" he answered, still half-asleep, not quite aware of what he was saying.
Belle heard the word and froze. "Rum," she began again.
This time he answered by kissing her ear lobe.
"What are we going to do?" she asked him.
He took a deep breath, not wanting to move away from the comfortable heat he was sharing with his little part-time librarian, part-time nanny partner.
"I'm through with Milah," he told her. "Our marriage has been over a while. I've been kidding myself that I could hold it together, that I should hold it together. I've already put much of my money and property into Bae's name, so the divorce won't cost me as much as it might have. But . . ." he was looking down at her now, "what are you going to do?"
"I . . . I don't think Gary and I are right for each other," she managed to whisper. "But I don't want you to think that you . . . that we . . . I don't want you to feel that you have to do anything for me."
She actually heard him chuckle. It was a sweet sound and unexpected. "Belle, I'm not going to rush you, I'm not going to pressure you, but I realized sometime last night that I've been falling in love with you over the past year. I know I'm a lot older than you and I'm not the easiest person to be around but I'd like to show you that I can offer you a lot - good company, college if you want it, a secure future . . . love."
"Certainly a lot more talented bed partner," she added smiling up at him. "Why don't we get through these next couple of days and see what happens then?"
"I'm willing to do that," he answered her.
Milah did not even ask who Gold had ended up with at the Key Party. As ever, wrapped up in her own needs, she seemed excessively pleased with herself. She was however genuinely surprised when the divorce papers were served. "What the hell are these?" she came roaring into his shop dropping the papers on the counter next to the register.
Blandly, he put on his reading glasses and picked them up, rapidly scanning them, "I believe, yes, yes, I'm quite sure. These are divorce papers, my dear," he told her handing them back to her.
"You don't have any grounds," she screamed at him.
"Actually I do, dearie," and he reached in the drawer behind the counter and pulled out several glossy color prints. "These chronicle your illicit liaisons with a Mr. Killian Jones. I also have witnesses that have made statements regarding seeing you and Mr. Jones checking into the Storybrooke Inn. Milah, you might have thought to go to some place a little more off-road with your tawdry romance. If you read on, you'll see where you will get a handsome allowance every month if you agree to this divorce uncontested. Otherwise my dear," and he gave her a feral smile, "should you stay with me and try to fight this, I will cut off every one of your credit cards, take your car, and do everything I can to reduce you to a state of penury. Curious how long your Mr. Jones will hang around at that juncture. And I will assure you that my next offer of financial support will not be nearly so generous." And he turned his attention back to his receipts. "Oh, and should you decide to take your ire out on any of my breakable merchandise, the costs will be deducted from your first check."
Milah stood fuming but finally, gathering her dignity she flounced toward the door. "You think I don't know about you and little Miss Belle, don't you? I know that you two have been carrying on behind my back. I'm going to make sure that Gary Gaston knows that you're the one that's been poking his wife."
"Mr. Gaston has his own concerns to worry about Milah. I don't think you'll find it advisable to stir that particular pot," he told her. He didn't share that he had helped Belle gather similar information on her husband regarding his numerous illicit affairs. Belle was not asking for alimony, just an ending to the marriage. He didn't tell Milah that he had raised Belle's salary and was renting her a little apartment above the library for a tenth of its value so that she could move away from Gary. He and Belle had agreed that they would not see each other outside of their daily routines until the divorces were final.
He knew he had backed both Milah and Gary into corners. Gary, he had no concerns about managing. The man was an idiot. Milah, well, he knew she could be treacherous but he didn't think she was stupid. She would take the deal that gave her the most money.
It was six months before both divorces were final. Every day during that time, Belle French, who had retaken her maiden name, received a red rose from an 'anonymous' admirer. On the day the divorces were final, Gold showed up carrying more than a dozen roses to Ms. French's door. She had to grin when she opened the door. She threw her arms around him, "Darling."
They shared a kiss, shy at first but deepening quickly, crushing the roses between them. Belle recovered first.
"Let me put these into water," she told him, trying to salvage the flowers.
"I wanted to take you out for supper, a small celebratory meal, nothing fancy," he told her.
"That sounds wonderful," she answered him from her small kitchen where she was filling up a vase with water.
"You don't mind being seen with me?" he asked, unsure of himself with this vibrant young woman.
"Of course not," she answered him brightly. "Why ever would I mind?" and she returned to him to stand on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
"You wouldn't consider moving in with me?" he asked hopefully.
She laughed, a sweet laugh, not Milah's bitter laugh. "Perhaps, at some point."
He put his arm around her as they left her little apartment, "Soon?" he sounded like an eager schoolboy.
"Soon," she promised.
"How about marrying me?"
"Perhaps, at some point," she answered, still laughing.
"Soon?"
"Soon," she promised and he felt bathed in her pleasant, accepting laughter.