A-N: This chapter contains M-rated material, *wink. Do not read the second part of this chapter if not interested... (Or skip the first if too interested, *wink again)

Chapter 4: Dark senses.

Rumplestiltskin:

'Regina, dear, always a pleasure.'

'It's time, Rumple.'

He smirked as he saw her tensed features and for a moment thought he would actually feel sorry for the sorrow-eyes brunette.

'For someone who has frozen just that for 28 years, you seem to be pretty certain of your assessment, dearie. Perhaps it is time you bought a watch. I have several models, we just might be able to find one to your liking.'

'Enough…'

Hoarse but determined her voice carried, rustled through the shop, making the large cuckoo's clock he had started to adjust on the wall stop its ticking.

He turned to her and chuckled, his step lighter as he felt himself slide back in his role of the 'Dark One' always so easily when he was around her. She was his greatest achievement. The way he had, slowly but surely, molded her to become what he had needed her to be. His pride had roared when he had seen her protective actions of that morning and he had known he had utterly succeeded. Having the most powerful witch of the century doing his bidding made his chest expand and any physical discomfort minor. She was his. And he knew it.

'Be careful how speak to me, dear… Who knows what may happen if I chose to…'

'They are back, Rumple… The Happy Endings. They are back. You have to face…'

He knew, saw in her eyes what she meant to say. That she had come to plead. For him to give up. The silly little girl. Had she not learned anything? Did she not know who she was dealing with? Annoyance mixed with condescending pity found its way out to his demeanor as he hissed the words in her direction.

'I don't have to face anything! She is mine, you have and will continue to make sure of that or suffer the consequences! That, and nothing else, is the deal we struck, Dearie.'

'Then, I am here to strike a new one…'

His chuckle was low and free, mocking her, he knew, with each and every one of the small amused sounds exiting his mouth.

'But, Dearie, can't you see? There is nothing left you have, that I could possibly want.'

He turned his back on her, as if she bored him. Which, in a way, she did. Her love for her son, and if he saw clearly, the woman who had given birth to him, making her weak and in a way so easy to control. It had been much more of a challenge to ply the naïve innocent Magic-hating girl into a revenge searching Evil Queen, who would cast a horrific curse. Ah well… Those had been the days…

He was surprised to hear her footsteps, quite certain she had already left, given up. But as he heard the metal find the wood, he turned.

'This time, Rumple, I would not be so sure of that, if I were you…'

Her voice was low, like thunder rumbling at a distance, it threat clear and imminent. And the flash brightened his field of vision as he caught sight of the item she had placed on the counter.

And, finding the dark brown eyes before him. He saw.

He saw it unravel in their black center and his own eyes widened.

'What have you done?'

And as she simply glanced down at the dark metal, glittering against the wood, a small smile tucking at the corners of her mouth, he knew.

That he may, finally, have lost.

…

Meanwhile across town:

Belle:

The clock chimed the hour as the door squeaked open. And as the stifled air made its way out, Belle couldn't help but breathe in the smell of the books. A smell, she had thought, she loved more than anything. But something else invading her nostrils, as she pushed herself through the small opening into the darkness, was proving her terribly wrong.

Her senses had heightened in a way she had only read about and it had not taken her long to figure out this had something to do with the vibrant Magic captured and vibrant in the metal she still held tight in her hand. She could feel it, wildly, rush through her veins, the heat of it almost scalding, yet not in an unpleasant way. She could sense it, guide her, pull her through the darkness, although she seemed to have no trouble making out shapes.

She could feel her in the sensation, feel the Magic, the wolf, merge with her blood. It found and brought alive places of her body she had never considered before. It made her pant and ache and yearn. It made her want to growl and bite, yet not in a destroying, blood-drawing way. It made her want to touch and please.

But most of all, it made her want to find.

To find and merge as the links she was clinging onto…

Ruby:

She had roared the lonely roar of silence as she had covered the mirror she had seen the glimpse in. The image of her making her crumble and want to whine like a pathetic little puppy instead of howl like the wolf she was supposed to become now. Hot tears had turned cold on her cheeks as she sat, the redness of the cloak flowing around her. And yet she refused to use the damn thing to wipe them away with. Damn it, she would refuse to breathe now, if she could. But the wolf was fighting its battle, she could feel it rage inside, the feelings so strong and her instinct telling her to act on them. Her senses dazzling and confusing her, her mind playing tricks on her as the she inhaled the smell and had to clench her jaws together in order not to growl, clutch her hands into fabric-filled fists in order not to touch and fight the urge to find some release of this fire she knew would never be extinguished, bite her lip not to utter the moan born out of this throbbing desire that would never be sated.

She had tried. As Red. As Ruby even, not knowing where her monthly 'urges' had come from and thinking it had something to do with her cycle… Yeah, hell. It had something to do with a cycle alright. But she hated this. Hated to be this weak. Hated, even, the images forcing itself up on her as she closed her eyes, the lips, the fingers, touching, exploring, finding… God fuck, finding…

Her hand, just for a moment, lost its grip on the red, as her lips did in the moan they'd held captive.

But it felt like such a betrayal, to the trust in those light, innocent eyes, to the friendship they had built. To think, this way, about her, crave to feel, at least, her own fingers stroking, touching, entering, rubbing… Anything that would make the tension explode, if only for that fucking second, in the contractions her body was aching for so much.

But she knew she wouldn't be able to control the images, as the imagined scent already grew stronger. She knew, that at least, this betrayal would not be the ultimate one… The one of her nightmares. The one where she was her own nightmare. She crawled back into the corner, afraid of her own feelings and yet relishing the sensation of the books against her back. Because she associated them with her, with the woman now, with the wolf running through her veins, dazzling her mind and senses just that impossible bit more than usual.

As her lip escaped the grasp of her teeth, a deep, roaring moan rumbled through her abdomen and her hand slid, carefully, still sort of hesitant, towards it. The silky fabric of the cloak that could protect her from changing, yet not from these heightened, tormented sensations, grazed the skin of her forearm and she shivered in the stifled air, feeling it instead as a lover's touch.

'Belle…'

The whisper echoed through the library. Louder than the chime of its tower which had only moments before scared the shit out of her. The sound of the name however, hoarse and raw and filled with desire, made her growl and tremble.

'Belle…'

Thanking who ever the fuck would listen that her waitress outfit had a skirt, Ruby gave into her body's begging. Spreading her legs she pressed her nails against her inner thigh and scratched, slowly, upto her center, biting her lip once more as the images overwhelmed her.

Soft lips pecked at the nape of her neck, so gently it felt like a butterfly touch and yet it was stronger than anything she had ever felt. Hands slid from behind, spreading fingers over her ribs until curling up, covering the shape of her breasts, heaving in her struggle to get enough air. It rippled through her, almost ripped her apart, the scream of the name always on the tip of her tongue as teeth sunk into her shoulder.

'Belle!'

'Belle!'

It was a sob, fighting its way out as well as a tear, when the fingers of her left hand found the nipple, aching, straining against the fabric. Because she knew it was only in her mind, but even in a fantasy, Belle was more real to her than any of the people she had shared her body with. Even in her mind, this was not just about the pleasing of her body, sating the wolf.

Turning her head, laying the back of it against Belle's shoulder, she was surprised of the strength the other woman showed. How could she hold her up, hold up the power of the wolf? Why did the light eyes not look at her in fear but in a shining, wanting confidence? In the emotion she did not dare to hope for, but felt, so so strongly, course to her veins for the other woman? The wolf howled as Belle's fingers expertly stroked her nipple, the other hand slowly making its way to her abdomen, tormenting and slowly following the path to bucking hips. And then, when Belle leant in and in a swift, practiced movement, claimed lips as her prize, everything exploded.

'Oh…'

She sucked in her lower lip, wishing she could taste Belle's on it, catch the scent that hovered around her and bottle it… Drink it in the unbearable thirst overpowering her. Sliding her hand, flat, over the soaked fabric of her underwear, she shivered and felt her hips move, involuntarily, forward to the touch. She knew what she needed to at least try to control this overwhelming desire and the last of her hesitance ended as she pressed her palm against herself, feeling her body beg for release.

She could not give her heart what it ached for, what it needed so desperately. But this, this she could do. This, what her body was screaming for, she could, sort of, control.

Growling, she pushed aside the wet silk to find the slickness she knew would be hiding behind it, moaning in pleasure as the tip of her finger slid inside the all-too-ready entrance.

Belle:

She halted and felt her lips part as the sound reached her at the same time the visual did. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought the other woman would or at the very least should be able to hear it exit her chest and find its way in her direction. Where she now knew, finally knew, it belonged. She watched, frozen yet heated, as the beautiful woman parted her legs, seemingly as to…

Could it? Really?

She blushed fiercely as she heard her name again, intent now clear in wild but, in a way also, sad eyes. And as they closed, in hands… In fingernails, scraping skin. In breathtaking touches of urge and need. In a voice, hoarse and raw, repeating time and time her name. She wanted to move, but found herself instead rooted to the spot, hidden in shadows as her free hand found the wood of a bookshelf to keep her steady. She quivered, this time the movement was fine enough to call it that, a soft vibration in need, in liquid desire as she watched Ruby press her hand against the place she, herself, felt burn. The metal in her hand was scolding hot, but never in a million years, would she dream of letting go. All she could do, to not fall, was hold on.

And then, as she heard her name escape red lips once more, she smiled at the irony of her own thought. Because she had already fallen… And by no means was that anything she regretted.

The gorgeous woman clad in red shook, in the want Belle no longer wished to contain. It enveloped her, absorbed her whole as she saw fingers move past fabric and against… inside…

She lost all train of conscious thought as she, mesmerized, watched the rhythmic movement. The slow, yet steady pace mirroring the pounding she felt between her legs. Her hand slid off the wood and clasped the fabric of her dress before, without thinking, out of sheer and utter need, it found its way down to apply a much desired pressure. The inside of her skirt felt cool against her inner thighs and the silent gasp freeing itself from her lips coincided with the rustle of cloth, making her look up.

A mirror, not unlike the one she had seen only moments before in a basement, was revealed as the cotton sheet, effectively hiding it, slithered of its surface. It showed her the woman from a different angel, the steady circular movement of fingers now increasing in speed as soft moans started to escape chapped lips, the way the long slender one of the other slowly, so tantalizingly slow, pushed its way inside and remained there, all in double focus.

But the mirror showed more…

Belle almost screamed out as she saw it, not sure if it was due to the pleasure ripping her apart as she, in increasing pace, rubbed her center through the fabric of her dress, or due to the shock the vision provided.

For suddenly, in the mirror image, the pleasing fingers, 2 of one hand in a rapid rhythmic massage pressed against the raw bundle of nerves and 2 of the other now continuing a slow but determined stroke of pounding, wet walls… Suddenly those fingers became hers…

As she saw the image of herself lean over the beautiful woman, who now, again, breathe out her name in a way that made Belle's heart stop, she felt the wetness between her legs surge with impossible intensity. Biting down her own moan she listen to the quiet begging becoming more frantic as the movement of fingers, imaged as well as real, did so too.

'Belle, yes. Oh please yes, don't stop, don't… Fuck, just please don't stop… I… Oh Belle…'

Ruby:

'Belle, yes. Oh please yes, don't stop, don't… Fuck, just please don't stop… I… Oh Belle…'

Never in her life had it felt more real to her. She could feel the grazes, sense the touches, feel the pants of breath against her shoulder as Belle, tormenting, slow, was pushing 2 fingers inside of her and arced them up. She muttered, begged, pleaded for the outburst she knew would follow the fucking amazing tension that was building up in her muscles. Belle's teeth gently found her nipple as the fingers worked their magic, faster as faster pumping in and out as the ones of her other hand had found her clit and rubbed it in the same, perfect pace.

She felt her body arc up as her walls clasped around her fingers, the desire reaching the peak she so desperately needed to find. Her breath stopped and she moaned and growled as her body held the delicious sensation for several long seconds. Walls tight, frozen in their throb, the nub under her fingers swollen and tight in its beg for release.

And then, it all broke free. And while she drowned in the ebb and flow, in the waves of pleasure her body rode, something else did as well.

And the wolf howled, climax merging with the pain, of its lonely, aching heart.

TBC