He was at his wheel in the Great Room when he felt the slight tingle of magic. He wasn't used to magic that wasn't his own and the slightly oily sensation left him with a feeling of nervousness deep in the pit of his stomach. He had given Belle permission to clean his own bedroom today. She had never been in there before, the room always remaining shut tight against her curious ways. Oh she had desperately wanted to see where he slept. But he had adamantly refused to allow her entry.
Why, he never could quite say. But today when she talked about needing to change his sheets and that maybe the room could be freshened up a bit, he had caved. She had this way about her. This ability to give him just a look that made him want to give her everything he had, the world even. Always he caved and then retreated to his wheel to spin the confusion away.
He hadn't counted on her encountering any magical objects in his bedroom. He thought he had made it all safe from her. Apparently not. His ever curious little maid had stumbled upon something. He supposed it was time to save her from whatever fate she had created for herself.
Without nary a thought, he found himself standing in his own bedroom, not far behind his maid. She didn't notice him for a scant few seconds and in that small amount of time he saw her studying herself in the mirror he always kept covered in the bedroom. Sometimes he felt slightly guilty that she was never allowed to look in a mirror in his castle and that most had been simply spirited away. The two larger mirrors, the one in the Great Room and this one in his bedroom, were left covered unless he needed them for communication. It was not entirely a big surprise that curiosity would get the better of her.
And then Belle's mouth turned into a little "o" of surprise and she stumbled slightly. He caught her about the waist before she could land on the ground.
"You startled me!" Belle exclaimed and her eyes met his in the mirror.
He smiled, just slightly, and leaned over her shoulder. As he spoke his breath fanned out across the crook of her neck. His eyes didn't leave hers in the mirror as he spoke. "And why, dear, are you messing around with my mirrors?" The words were low, dangerous and he felt Belle shiver slightly against him. Rather than release her, his hold on her waist grew only tighter, his hands winding tightly around her as he damned near hauled her back against him.
Her mouth opened in a gasp. "I…I don't know. I just…I don't even know what I look like anymore. And I wondered…"
"Curious, my dear little maid. Always so curious." He leaned in low, brought his chin down on her shoulder. If he spent even a moment thinking about it, he might admit to himself that this was something he liked about his Belle. They fit together properly. She was only a scant few inches shorter than he and so when she was pulled tight against him the right parts lined up. He could feel her soft bottom pressing up against him, and nearly let out a groan as he hardened with the sensation. He wondered if she could feel it through the layers of her skirt. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to or didn't.
"Is curiosity really such a bad thing?" She craned her neck to try to meet his eyes. At such close quarters she was slightly blurry. She was so close. So very very close. He couldn't remember the last time he had even been this close to a woman. The scent of her, vanilla and roses, the feel of her, the soft skin and the silky hair that tickled his nose. He wasn't sure he had ever been so close to a woman this lovely before.
"No, love. Curiosity is most certainly not a bad thing. But it can be a good thing...sometimes" He hung over her shoulder for a moment, head low, almost touching the bare spot at the crook of her neck. His hair brushed against her cheek, a soft unintended caress as he raised his eyes to watch her in the mirror.
For a moment her eyes were shut and when they opened and met his in the mirror, there was a challenge inherent in her gaze. His eyes stayed locked on hers as he lowered his mouth to that spot on her neck and just brushed his lips across it. He wanted to taste her, feel her, all of her. He had known for what seemed like forever now that he wanted her, but he didn't exactly know how much until he found himself pressed up against her back like this.
"Please Belle," he whispered. "Please tell me to stop. And I will. I swear I will."
In answer she tilted her head, just a tiny bit. His eyes opened wide in surprise. Was she actually? No…she couldn't actually be granting him access to do what he wanted to do. He stared at her, frozen in place, unable to do so much as move, breathe. Her lips turned up slightly in a shy smile and one hand came up to lightly touch his hair.
It was all the permission he needed. Belle…wanted…this. Him. She wanted him. To touch her, to kiss her, to enact some fantasy that he had. Maybe even fantasies she had. It was almost too much for him. He felt a shudder go through his body at that one small touch of hers, at the smile still on her face, at the eyes that watched him so carefully in the mirror. She could see him. His strange skin, his reptilian eyes, his wild mane of hair. And she didn't shy from him. She never had, always reaching out a hand to touch his, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug when he did something she particularly liked. He tried to ignore the fact that he found himself doing things she would like just so that she would touch him in some way, following her around like a puppy hoping for even a scrap of attention. He had placed an extra chair by the fire, had put a small couch in the Great Room so that she might consider reading there while he spun at his wheel. He hadn't intended to keep her so close, really. Had, in fact, intended to keep her locked in a dungeon except when cleaning.
And now here they hung, their fates in balance. Her leaning back, lightly touching him. His leaning forward, just inches from what he had wanted for what seemed like forever. Since she fought with him over his prisoner. Since she dropped that chipped cup. Since she stepped around her betrothed to look him straight in the eyes. I will go with him.
Never had so few words come to mean so much.
"Rumple?" Belle questioned, placing one hand over the hand that had bunched up into a tight fist at her hip. He immediately relaxed it and leaned just that slight bit further forward, touching his lips reverently to her neck. One arm went further around her, his hand splaying across her abdomen. When he sucked delicately at the skin there and scraped his teeth across the pulse point, Belle let out a small gasp. He worked his way up her neck, licking and suckling the sensitive skin there, and when he drew her earlobe into his mouth, running his tongue over the sensitive lobe, he felt her knees buckle and she leaned harder against him.
He kept her pinned to him as she stumbled slightly and he let her sink to the ground, following her down to kneel behind her. He tilted Belle's head in the other direction and continued his ministrations on the other side, biting down a little harder and being rewarded with watching her eyes slam shut and hearing the moan that escaped her lips.
"Oh Belle," he whispered in her ear and reached up to lightly run a hand down her neck to the soft skin just above where her chemise ended. One long finger dipped down underneath the chemise, stroking her softly. Her skin felt as soft as he thought it would, like the petals of the rose he had once given her.
He watched her in the mirror as her eyes opened and met his. She moved a hand up to the laces of her bodice and he noticed that there was a slight tremor to her small hand. Her fingers wouldn't grip the lace. Wrapping one hand around her smaller one, he stopped her. He leaned his head down, buried his nose in her hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her shoulder.
"Sorry?" Belle's voice was laced with confusion. "For what?"
He kept his head down. "I did not bring you here for this. I may be a beast, but I'm not that kind of beast."
Belle removed her hand from underneath his and reached back and tugged at his hair, forced his head off her shoulder. He met her eyes once more. "Do you see me objecting?" She shook her head rather forcefully. "Do you see me telling you to stop?"
He tilted his head to the side as she reached up once more to the laces of her bodice. He brushed her hand aside, and as she put it back down on the ground to keep herself balanced, he plucked at the laces himself. He had it only half open when he could no longer resist the temptation and stroked his hand down under her chemise once more. With the freedom the loosened bodice allowed, he was able to push the material down and release one of her breasts to cradle it in his hand.
He palmed the soft skin there, feeling the weight of it in his hand. When he lightly pinched the nipple, he felt Belle push back against him, heard the moan in the back of her throat. He had done that. To Belle. His Belle.
He traced one hand down the loosened bodice, caressing the skin through the thin chemise where the bodice had pulled away from her stomach. She felt hot beneath his touch and he could see the flush creeping up across her chest and to her neck. He wanted so very badly to flip her around, to latch his mouth onto her nipple until she lost her mind with pleasure. He wanted to plunge into her, bury himself in her heat and wetness, feel himself lost in her body. He ached…in ways he was not sure he had ever ached before.
But instead, he found himself running his hand lightly down one thigh, finding the end of her dress and dipping his hand beneath it. The skin at her knee was a little rough, tight from the way she was sitting. He moved his hand up further, tracing light patterns on the skin of her outer thigh.
"Spread your legs a little, love," he whispered in her ear, his hot breath fanning out across her neck. He put one hand on her inner thigh and was pleased to feel her shift and spread herself out a bit. He groaned as she pressed up harder against his erection. He was straining at his leather breeches, desperate to get out, desperate to feel her, only her, always her. He couldn't even say where this wanting had come from. It felt like it had always been there, just waiting to come to the surface.
He lightly stroked up in the inside of her thigh, returning to suckling at her neck, leaving small red marks as he bit down, not hard enough to mar her beautiful skin, but just enough to redden the skin temporarily.
Her skin felt like silk beneath his rough fingertips and the moans coming from her were the finest music ever produced. She was panting by the time his hand had gone high enough up her skirt to reach her center. He ran his fingers through the light amount of hair at the apex of her thighs and then pressed slightly, spreading her legs even further apart to grant him access.
He looked up from her neck and held still, waiting. He wanted to see her eyes, her whole face when he touched her. After a moment's pause, she lifted her head from where it was hanging down, hair obscuring her face. Their eyes met and he pulled her back against him, opening her even further. He could see her straining to keep the position and reached one arm tightly around her to support her against his chest. "I won't drop you. Relax."
And she did, her eyes never wavering from his. Finally, with her almost imperceptible nod, he pressed a finger into her, stroking lightly along the slick folds. He gasped and his arm tightened almost painfully around her. She was wet. It should not have surprised him considering all that had just happened, and yet it did. He had not been with many women over his three centuries of living, could not, in fact, really remember the last time as it had been so long ago, but those few who he had been with had never quite seemed pleased with the encounters. They wanted more…more than his poor damaged leg could give, more than just he himself could give, wanting the magic to please them more than wanting him to please them. So he had resorted to magic, sometimes not even touching his would-be lover, instead sending her over the edge with tendrils of magic that left her sated and him still wanting.
But Belle was wet from just his touch and his mouth on her neck alone and as he stroked her lightly, in awe of how she responded to his touch, she moaned and shifted and her hips bucked slightly in rhythm with his fingers.
He dipped one finger inside her and felt her clench around the digit. He could well imagine her clenching around him if he ever dared that. It didn't seem possible but the thought made him even more hard. He pressed up against her as he continued his ministrations.
He alternately circled her clitoris, not quite touching exactly where he knew she wanted him to, and dipped his fingers inside her, thrusting one and then two in and out of her. He felt her begin to tremble and her legs slipped even wider.
And then finally, he circled back around and rubbed one slick finger over her clit. She came undone in his arms. Her gasping moan louder than he expected, her body trembling in his arms, she finally slumped back against him, nearly boneless.
He was panting himself, his eyes shut, one hand slowly stroking the hair that was plastered to the side of her face. He wasn't prepared when her hand reached back and touched the bulge in his leather pants. Letting out a small hiss, he jerked backward a few inches.
"Oh," Belle said. "I'm sorry. I just thought…"
He let out a small laugh. "That you would reciprocate?" His voice was hoarser than he expected. He felt like he had to force each word out. She nodded and he sighed. Belle wanted to give him pleasure. He didn't let himself think too much on it, instead acting on instinct. If he thought too much he would back away, run from the room, be unable to face her again. And so instead, he reached down and undid the fastenings for his breeches, finally freeing his cock from the tight constraint. An audible groan escaped him once freed. He had never quite realized how confining leather was until this moment.
He never even saw Belle reach around behind her again and didn't know she did until her hand, that lovely slightly callused tiny hand, wrapped around his cock. He thrust forward just once, that's all it took, and he lost it, spilling himself in her hand after just one small touch.
Burying his face in her shoulder, he felt a wave of shame rush through him. He'd blush if his skin could change color like that. He had lost it like a teenager. One touch from a beautiful woman and his body couldn't handle it. "Gods, Belle," he whispered. "I meant that to last a little longer."
Belle smiled, boldly meeting his eyes as she finally released him. Without thinking about it much, he sent a small puff of magic out to clean her hand of the sticky substance. She resituated her dress, pushing the material down over her thighs to let it pool at her feet. Pushing herself off the floor, she stood on shaky legs and then turned to Rumplestiltskin, holding out one hand to him.
He didn't even know how she could look on him, sitting on the floor with his wild hair plastered to his face, sweat pooling in the v of his shirt, his pants still undone. He could see himself in the mirror and it was certainly not a pretty sight. She still looked as clear and innocent as the new day. He looked like the monster he knew he was. The one he knew he was even more so now for taking advantage of her in such a way. It wouldn't be long before she realized what he had done.
Without meeting her eyes, he waved a hand, fixing his clothes. He'd pay for the magic later, if he hadn't paid for it already. He'd pay for it, no doubt, when Belle left him. He couldn't expect her to stay, not after this. And he wouldn't go after her when she fled. He'd send a note maybe, to where ever she ended up, telling her that her lands were safe, that the ogres would never return so long as he lived. He didn't want her to worry about such things.
It took him a moment to realize she was still standing over him with her hand held out. When he finally looked up at her, met her eyes and not just her eyes in the mirror, she had her head tilted to the side slightly, her lips pursed. Her eyebrows rose just slightly and he finally allowed himself to reach out, to put his hand in hers.
She tugged on him and he found himself standing, using her hand as leverage to rise. He looked away from her, tried to turn his back on her, but her hand in his simply tightened around his, drawing him back toward her. He stayed, still as a statue, staring down at the ground, waiting for her to make the next move. Release him and walk out, never to be seen again. It was all he deserved for doing what he had just done.
"Rumplestiltskin?" Her voice was soft and drew his eyes back up to her. She was close, closer than he expected. She took one more step toward him, put one hand on his weathered cheek, and stood up on her toes. Softly, ever so gently, she pressed her lips to his. It was a sweet, simple kiss and his eyes had only just started to drift shut when it ended.
He stared at her out of dazed eyes, watching her face break out into a brilliant smile. "We can take longer next time." And then she was gone, leaving him to stare after her, leaving him to realize that she was not leaving him, leaving him to realize that there would be a next time. His mouth tilted up in a small smile. She would never stop surprising him, his Belle. And he suddenly realized how much he liked surprises.