She leads them past three doors and pushes open the fourth. "What is this, then?" he asks, keeping hold of her hand as she pulls away. She flicks on a light and steps back to his side.
"A good place for private lessons," she murmurs, carding her free hand through his hair. "Otherwise known as the break room."
"Lovely," he chuckles, looking over the threadbare couch and mismatched chairs around a paint-stained kitchen table. "Well, my dear, shall we start the less—" He stops abruptly when she tugs his hair and crushes her mouth to his.
"No time," she whispers breathlessly. "Just come here." She shifts her hand to his tie and pulls him along as she steps backwards, toward the couch. He comes at her eagerly, but she has pulled him off balance and he stumbles, his cane clattering to the floor. Her rear bumps against the arm of the sofa. She grabs his forearms and tries to support him just as he draws up a rapid coil of magic to keep from falling – the result of which is to overbalance him further. He curses and plops heavily onto the couch cushions, pulling her off the armrest to fall sideways into his lap, her legs still draped over the arm of the sofa. "Rumple!" she exclaims, all traces of seduction gone from her voice. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry –" She tries to sit up, but he wraps his arms around her waist, holding her fast.
"See, darling, this is why home is better." He nuzzles her hair.
"You're alright though?"
"Perfectly fine," he assures her, drawing one hand slowly up her ribs. From over the side of the couch, one of her shoes drops to the floor. "But I seem to remember a more comfortable couch somewhere else…" He tightens one hand on her waist and with the other tips her face to him. She lifts her head and meets his lips, kissing him deeply. He pulls back just enough to speak. "Or a very much more comfortable bed…?" He hears her chuckle and drop her other shoe.
"I promise I'll make it worth your while," she says laughingly, wrapping her arms around his neck with a grin, "if you stick around just a little longer."
"Deal," he grins, pulling her close.
He kisses her again but she pulls quickly away, swinging her legs over the armrest and slipping off his lap to sit beside him. Her back is to him. "Zipper?" she asks over her shoulder.
He leans forward to kiss her neck as he draws the zipper slowly down, exposing pale shoulder blades and the back of a bra that looks black and lacey and dangerous . As he reaches the small of her back he pauses, tracing little patterns with his fingertips. She surprises him by reaching behind her and deftly unhooking the bra before he has a chance. She slips the sleeves and straps off her arms. "I'd hoped to see that," he pouts, curling his hand around her waist and dripping kisses down her bare back as she tosses the bra away. He glances up with longing as it lands on one of the kitchen chairs. She shifts on the couch, pulling her knees under her to kneel facing him, arms demurely crossed to cover herself. The diamonds circling her neck glitter as dangerously as her eyes.
"Well if you preferred I retrieve it…"
"Don't you dare," he snarls, shrugging out of his suit jacket. She grins and leans in to him, resting both hands on his chest and kissing him eagerly. He shakes off the jacket and curves one hand at her shoulder, easing her back just enough for him to kiss down her neck. He skips over the diamonds, leaving trails of soft kisses across the swells of her breasts instead. Her breath hitches, fingers tightening on his shirt as he drops lower, dragging his bottom lip gently over her hardened peak, making her gasp. He ghosts his hands down her bare sides before bunching them in the pooling fabric of her dress. She tugs his tie loose and finds the buttons on his shirt, freeing one, two, three, before she lowers her head, kissing down his throat. He feels the sensation down through his belly, his cock twitching as he tugs the dress up her thighs. She swings one leg over his in response, dragging her hand down his chest.
"Vest," she mumbles, shifting along his leg and trying not to pull from their kisses. Her hands are clumsy and he brings his hands up with hers, slipping the buttons free with little effort. "Why are you always wearing so many clothes?" Belle complains, finally slipping the vest from his shoulders.
He doesn't want to answer, so he kisses her again, dragging his hands up her sides and cupping her breasts. She gasps into his mouth, quickly slipping the last few shirt buttons free. Her hips twitch toward him and she braces her hands on the couch on either side of his head. He puts his clever hands to work, circling each breast in turn, drawing nearer to the rosy peaks. Belle makes a small sound and he looks up at her. So beautiful, so eager… His love has her head thrown back, arms taught as she grips the back of the sofa. He feels her against his leg, hot and intimate, and still separated by too many layers of cloth. He pulls her close, kissing between her breasts before flicking his tongue to one taught nipple. She shudders, and he draws it further into his mouth, making her moan, low and needy, as he squeezes her other breast. She tilts her head and he follows, kissing up her neck and nipping gently. He finds the spot along her throat that makes her breath quicken and scrapes his teeth there, tasting her skin. She tangles one hand in his hair. "Easy, Rumple. I've still got my speech," she whispers. "Gentle. For now." He flicks his tongue to the spot he'd been worrying, inhaling sharply as she reached down to stroke him through his trousers.
"Belle…." She raises her head in response, scraping her nails against his scalp as he pulls her close for a passionate kiss. His hands dip low, ghosting across her belly,tugging her dress up, dragging his fingertips higher and higher up her thighs. She moves against him, but doesn't take her hand from him. A harder tug and he pulls back from her lips with a gasp. "Forget the speech, Belle," he pleads, eyes wide and dark and desperate. "Stay here. Fuck those people."
"I'd rather fuck you," she whispers huskily, rolling her hips against him.
"Gods, Belle," he groans, wild at hearing her sweet, beautiful voice gone deep with lust and saying such filthy things. He looks at her in love and wonder, every fiber of his being burning as she rises to her knees and busies herself with his belt. He draws one hand up between her legs, feeling her quiver. He tips his head back, burying one hand in her hair to bring her close for a passionate kiss. His other hand continues its path up, tracing his finger along the waist of what feels like a very interesting lacy concoction. She finally frees his belt without breaking their kiss and he takes his hand from her hair to tug his trousers down. He hooks his thumb in the waist the interfering lace and slowly pulls it down. She shifts off his lap, kneeling over his leg and wiggling her hips in a delicious way that's either meant to help or excite. Possibly both. "I wanted to see these, too," he whispers as she stands briefly.
"Mmm, later," she purrs. What remains of her dress is falling around her hips, leaving his view obscured as she bends and slips one leg free. But she does look wonderfully debauched he thinks as she straddles him, brushing her curls against his hardness and driving all coherent thoughts from his mind. His hands find her waist, fingers digging in as she reaches between them. She takes hold of him, guiding him against her hot, slick folds. He twitches toward her. "Belle," he pleads, voice barely above a whisper. She continues the small motions, bringing her other hand to his cheek. Suddenly, she sinks onto him, drawing a low moan from his lips as he fills her. She is still just for a moment before rolling her hips. He lifts in response, grabbing her bottom to push even deeper into her. She gasps in his ear, still the most delicious sound no matter how many times he hears it.
She slides along his length as they quicken the pace, gradually finding a rhythm that leaves them both panting. Belle braces her arms on the back of the sofa, cradling his face in her hands, her breath coming quick and shallow. She presses closer, chest to chest, belly to belly, pressing her lips to his. He feels his release building. He braces one foot against the floor, meeting her thrusts and making her cry out. He can tell she is close too, her every breath laced with small, desperate sounds. His fingers dig in where they grab her hip, her ass, urging her on. Let him leave marks here, he thinks with a growl, pushing harder into her. She keens and he clutches her to him. So close now. A few moments more and she cries out, her muscles clenching around him as she throws her head back, lost in rapture. He watches her as long as he can, but his own pleasure is not far behind and he screws his eyes shut. His hands clutch desperately at her, across her back, her waist, her trembling thighs, until his whole body shudders. He moans into her mouth, seeking her lips for a shaky, sloppy kiss, shuddering once more before going still. She lifts one hand to tentatively touch the hair at his temple, both of them breathless.
"Love you," she whispers, lifting on shaking legs just enough to ease him out of her. Her head drops, cheek pressed against his shoulder as he lets his head loll back against the sofa. He lifts one hand just enough to trace nonsensical patterns up and down her spine. For a few moments they are still, breath slowing, bodies cooling.
Belle gives a contented sigh. "You know what?" she asks into his neck.
"What, love?" He lifts his hand to stroke her hair.
"I don't remember a word of that speech I'm supposed to be giving."
Rumpelstiltskin laughs. "I think it goes 'Thank you for coming, everyone please leave immediately because I have to go home and have several more mind-blowing orgasms.'"
"Something like that, I'm sure," Belle smirks, raising up to kiss him, soft and gentle. She lifts from him and glances down between them. "Oh, we are a fright," she says. His shirt is splayed open across his chest, his trousers and boxers pooled at his feet. She still straddles him, the black underwear dangling off one ankle, the probably-ruined dress wrinkling around her middle. "And a bit sticky." she adds.
"Up!" he orders, gently pushing her off. She stands and he flicks his hand, encasing them both in purple mist. It swirls away a moment later and she looks down at herself. The now pristine dress gives no sign of the recent rumpling it had endured. Another glance tells her he's fixed his attire in a similar fashion.
"Thank you," she says, stepping around the edge of the sofa to retrieve her heels. "Did you get your cane?"
"Over there." He points. She slips into the heels and fetches the cane from under the table. When she straightens, it's clear that he has been staring. Belle smirks, sauntering over and offering him her free hand to pull him up from the couch.
"Behave," she warns, handing him the cane. He braces his hands on it and grins smugly.
"Don't I always?"
"Hmm." She makes a doubtful sound, straightening his tie. "There. Presentable."
"Only presentable?" She takes the arm he offers and he magics the door open for them.
"No, you do look very handsome tonight." She lifts up on her toes to kiss his cheek.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," he smiles. They round a corner and enter the gallery again. "Now go!" He smacks her bottom, making her jump. "Give your speech."
She twirls away, wagging a finger at him with a laugh. "I said behave! Honestly." She lifts her head, waving at someone across the room. "Ruby!" she calls, hurrying over. "Did you get everything for the welcome?"
Half an hour later, the coatcheck girl flips through a magazine in the now-empty lobby. Suddenly, she springs to her feet at the unmistakable sound cane against the marble floors. She is still pawing through the rack of coats behind the library check out counter when she hears a woman's laugh accompanying it. She looks up, wide-eyed, as Mr. Gold steps into the lobby with the beautiful Storybrook librarian on his arm.
"Sir!" the girl exclaims, going back to the rack. "Your coat is here somewhere…" She glances up, trying not to stare as Belle strokes his arm, looking up at Gold with a sly smile.
"Don't bother, dearie." He doesn't break stride, only waves his hand, making both coats appear on their shoulders in a swirl of purple. Belle giggles and tugs his arm, pulling them toward the door. "And tell your father I'll be by for the rent tomorrow…" He pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at the coatcheck girl with a wicked grin. "Afternoon."