Hello again Dearies!
It's kind of scary how Rumplestilskin can switch so quickly to becoming the "Beast" isn't it? One minute repentant and meek and the next cold and distant. (A personality trait partly inspired by my ex-boyfriend lol)
So, without further ado….
Chapter 8!
"I trust you slept well."
Rumpelstiltskin mumbled from his spinning wheel when Belle walked into the great hall sometime after two that afternoon.
He was hinting to soothe any residual anger that may still linger in her heart.
He would never speak of the shameful things they done in the darkness aloud; he would rather slap her with veiled innuendos and brusque comments because it was easy to kick an already wounded animal.
Because he was a coward.
Yet, she always seemed to kick back...
Belle placed a fair hand to the small of her back and rubbed lightly through the white cotton of her day dress.
"It's been so long since I've had anything softer than the ground to sleep on, I'm rather sore."
A scowl passed across his lips and he continued to spin gold.
Belle picked up a china cup, noticing it was different from the blue and white china he had before.
"What happened to the old set?" she asked holding up the new cup.
Rumpelstiltskin glanced at it and back to his thread.
"It was…..destroyed."
"Why?" she said as she studied the new pattern.
"Because," he paused, "I didn't want it anymore."
Belle continued to look at the cup.
"You seem to make a habit of destroying things you 'don't want anymore,' first a love-struck girl then a china cup."
Rumpelstiltskin's lips curled into a sneer, but he held his tongue.
She placed the cup gently on its matching saucer and picked up the silver tea pot.
She filled her cup to the brim and plopped in a lemon wedge.
"I always preferred sour over sweet."
Rumpelstiltskin stilled his wheel and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"If you've come to stick pins Belle," his voice had reverted back to a normal volume, "you're wasting your breath."
Belle turned her back and smiled as she sipped her steaming tea.
She looked around the room at all his "treasures."
The different "prizes" that made up his centuries old collection.
Once upon a time she had been a prize.
Abeautiful, living piece of his collection.
Until he broke her.
Now she was unwanted, just like that pitiful tea service.
She drug a graceful finger idly down the long dusty mahogany table and he watched her, discreetly, from his spinning wheel.
He was ruining this batch of thread trying to keep one eye on the wheel on one dire eye on Belle, but he didn't care.
Gold thread wouldn't keep him warm at night.
Gold didn't have two clear blue eyes that looked at him with so much love that almost made him weep; nor did it have two perfect lips that curled around his name so consummately that it was like a prayer.
Slowly his eyes deviated from his work, forgetting completely the motion of the thread.
Instead they were glued to the motion of Belle, swaying around the room and redness of that sublime mouth as it molded to the rim of her tea cup.
"Fuck!"
Belle whipped around, her eyes wide with alarm.
"Are you alright?!"
"I pricked my fucking finger." He snapped viciously.
She was beside him within a blink, cradling his beastly paw with utmost care.
On the tip of his marriage finger the puncture was oozing black blood.
He raised his hand to heal it magically, but to his marvel, she thrust his wounded finger into her rosebud mouth.
He was hard instantly.
She flicked the tip with her tongue and Rumpelstiltskin fought to keep himself from slamming Belle on the stone floor and taking her right then and there.
She closed her eyes and her eyelashes brushed against her cheekbones; Rumpelstiltskin let out a strangled moan as the heat of her mouth spread from the tip of his finger into the rest of his body.
He didn't attempt to hide his new, painful erection.
Her eyes weren't innocent anymore.
She pulled his finger from her mouth.
"I had never heard that word until I came to live with you..." she mused.
He smiled, weakly, and stroked her face.
He had heard Snow White heralded as "the fairest of them all" but in his eyes, darling Belle put her to shame.
She pressed his hand to her warm cheek. "I love you Rumplestiltskin."
He sighed dolefully and dropped his hand from her face.
"Why did you come back with me?"
"Why did you ask?"
She struggled to her feet and placed her hands on her narrow waist.
"I know it couldn't be from the goodness of your heart Rumple," she inched closer to him, "how can you serve something you've never had."
She looked at him accusingly, waiting for his counter insult.
As was the dance they both knew so well.
"Do not presume to know me Princess."
He stood, his stool slamming against the wall behind him, "You know nothing of my heart."
"Beause you hide it from me!"
Belle stepped closer to him and tentatively laid her hand across his chest, "You keep it locked away."
Rumpelstiltskin sighed and placed his hand over Belle's on his chest.
"You're so young and beautiful Belle, don't waste it all on an old monster like me."
Then he looked at her seriously, with all manner of tenderness fleeing from his face.
"There will never be True Love's Kiss."
Belle pressed against him and silently laid her cheek on his silk covered shoulder.
Their fingers intertwined and she looked out of the large window behind them at the snow topped peaks, thoughtfully she rested her chin on his shoulder.
"But there will be True Love."