A/N: I didn't manage to fix it last time, so let's hope I can this time :)
Lacey swallowed, blinking hard to stop the tears coming. She could deal with those later. When she was alone. Gold looked at her curiously as he slipped out of her and fastened his pants, his balance unsteady due to the pressure on his bad leg. He slipped a finger beneath her chin, raising her head so that he could catch her eyes.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently, and she licked her lips.
"I think maybe I should move out," she said, and for a moment she saw anguish in his gaze, and pain, and loss. But then the shutters flew up and his eyes were blank and dead and cold. He turned away, tucking in his shirt, his shoulders a little hunched.
"I see," he said quietly. "Can we at least talk about this?"
She bent to pull up her underwear, wriggling her hips and tugging down the dress.
"I don't see how that would help," she muttered, and his shoulders slumped further. He turned back to the table, picking up his wineglass, and took a drink. She watched him as he swallowed, feeling miserable. Feeling guilty.
"Where will you go?" he asked, and she hesitated, trying in vain to think of something.
"I don't know," she said eventually. "Guess I'll have to find somewhere, huh?"
She turned to go, but he reached for her hand, gently squeezing.
"Lacey," he whispered. "At least stay tonight. Please."
She wavered, but she had nowhere to go, no plan, and she really hadn't thought any of this through. She nodded, and he seemed to relax a little.
"I'm going to bed," he said then. "Will you come with me?"
It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, to start the agonising process of cutting him out of her life, sawing a jagged line around her heart and prising it out to leave her empty and broken. It was too painful, though, and she wanted to lie in his arms one last time, so she nodded, linking her fingers through his and following him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room. They washed and undressed in silence, climbing into bed and wrapping their arms around one another, and she laid her head against his chest and felt the rise and fall as his breathing steadied. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears trickling out of the corners as she clung to him, breathing in his scent and wishing that she was enough.
Lacey was still there in the morning when he awoke, and for a moment Gold forgot about their fight, and her pain, and the fact that she wanted to leave. For a brief, blissful moment all he could think of was the way she felt in his arms, and the way she smelt of Belle. But then she looked up at him through eyes ringed with smudged mascara, and pulled away, and he felt a sharp pain in his heart. He watched as she slipped from the bed and went to the bathroom, and after a moment or two he heard the shower being turned on. Sighing to himself, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled on his robe, walking downstairs to put a kettle on for the morning coffee. He left it brewing and made toast and eggs, putting the plates on the table just as Lacey came downstairs with her newly-washed hair dried and shining. He wanted to stroke it, to take her in his arms and hold her close, but he held back, and she took her seat in silence.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked tentatively, as she poked at the scrambled eggs without enthusiasm. Lacey shrugged.
"Not really," she said. "You done with the coffee?"
Gold poured her a cup, and she added cream and sugar, sitting back in her chair with the mug in both hands.
"You should eat," he said, although he had no appetite himself, and she merely shrugged again, so he left it.
"Do you - have plans today?" he asked, and she flicked her eyes up at him. They pierced him to the bone, clear blue and full of sadness.
"I'm still moving out, Gold," she whispered, and he felt the pain all over again.
"I see," he said quietly, setting down his fork. "Well then, perhaps I can help."
"I don't need your help," she said automatically, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Really?" he said dryly. "I own almost every piece of real estate in this town, so unless you're thinking of moving in with Regina, I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter."
Lacey opened her mouth, appearing to struggle with something, and finally nodded.
"There's an apartment above the library," he said, a fresh lance of pain stabbing him at the memories of Belle in that library, and her brief stay in the apartment. "If you like it, I'm happy to let you stay there for free."
"I don't need your charity," she said stubbornly, and he sighed.
"It's not charity," he said, his voice sharper than he intended. "The library has been empty since - look, you staying there would be a little security for the place. You could - you could be a sort of caretaker. Keep an eye on the books."
He flashed her a brief smile that didn't reach his eyes, trying to lighten the mood, and she put down her coffee cup, frowning at him.
"I'll pay rent," she said insistently. "I'm not - look, Gold, I'm not comfortable with taking any more from you, okay? I can pay the rent, I just don't have enough for a deposit right now."
He sat back in his chair a little, drumming slow fingertips against the tabletop as he watched her take another drink.
"Well, would you consider allowing me to at least waive the deposit?" he asked coldly. "Given that you're so intent on not spending another minute in my company?"
Her mouth twitched, and she stared into her coffee cup.
"I have to do this," she said softly, and he ran a hand over his face with a weary sigh.
"Fine," he said, aware of how tired and beaten he sounded. "Let me show you around the place, see if it's to your liking."
She nodded, and he pushed back his chair and went to get changed, his breakfast almost untouched.
They walked to the library in silence, and Gold led her up the stairs to the apartment. It was still clean and neat, just as Belle had left it, with a thin layer of dust on the surfaces. She began to look around, and he stood in the centre of the small lounge with his hands on his cane, remembering the last time he had been here. He and Belle had made up, and been on a couple of dates, and she had invited him up for a drink. He had lain her down on the battered leather sofa and unfastened the buttons of her dress, kissing her all over and using his tongue on her delicate skin until she screamed his name. Afterwards, she had held him close and whispered that she loved him, that she was going to come back home. They had been happy. He swallowed, looking away and blinking rapidly as his eyes stung with tears.
Lacey came out of the bedroom, rubbing a hand up and down her arm and chewing her lip in a way that was so reminiscent of Belle that he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her. But she had thrown a wall up around herself, an invisible barrier to keep him out, and he stayed where he was. She looked across at him, her face sober.
"This was her place, wasn't it?" she asked. "Belle's place."
He hesitated, but saw no reason to lie to her.
"Yes," he said. "I could always find you somewhere else."
"It's okay." She looked around. "It's nice. Convenient. I mean it's not far to stagger when I've had a few too many, right?"
He looked at the floor. "Right."
Lacey ran a hand through her hair, casting her eyes around the room.
"Besides, she's not coming back, is she?" she said. "Not like it matters."
She held out her hand, and he dropped the keys into it.
"Rent's due on the first of every month," he said, his voice sounding hollow, and she nodded again.
"You'll get it. Thanks, Gold. For everything, I mean it."
He closed his eyes, wishing it didn't sound so final.
"Your things," he said. "Do you want me to have them sent over?"
She shook her head. "I'll come over later and get them, if that's okay. Thought I'd clean the place up a bit before I move in."
"Of course."
He was silent for a moment, and she began wandering around the lounge, picking up couch cushions and banging them to shake off the dust.
"I'll see you later, then," he added, and she nodded without looking up, so he let himself out of the front door and made his way down the stairs, feeling as though his heart would break.
He walked slowly across the road to Granny's Diner, his mind in turmoil, and limped inside, striding to the bar and ordering a whisky. Granny raised her eyebrows, a disapproving look on her face.
"Little early, isn't it?" she remarked, and he stared at her until she shrugged and poured him a measure. Gold nodded his thanks and sat staring into its depths, breathing in the scent of it as he tried to think of what to do about Lacey.
"You okay?"
David's voice made him look around, and he shrugged, but he was clearly worse at hiding his feelings than he thought, because David's eyes narrowed.
"You look terrible," he said. "Did something happen?"
"No more than usual," said Gold dryly, and took a mouthful of the whisky. It burned on the way down, and he shook his head. "I screwed up, but that's hardly anything new."
David looked curious, leaning on the bar with one elbow.
"What's up?" he asked, and Gold sighed.
"Lacey wants to move out," he said. "I'm losing her, Charming."
"I thought you two had made up," said David. "You seemed pretty close when I saw you the other day."
Gold hesitated. "She knows about Belle," he admitted. "I - said her name in my sleep. Said I loved her."
David winced. "Yeah, the wrong name never goes down well. What did you tell her?"
"Some version of the truth," said Gold wryly, gesturing with his glass. "That I love Belle, that I lost her. That she's probably not coming back."
"Well, can't you tell her how you feel?" asked David. "Explain that it's in the past, and that you want to move forward with her?"
"When I've already admitted to being in love with Belle?" said Gold, raising an eyebrow. "How would that look? She already feels as though she's some sort of rebound, that I don't really care for her."
"So, work with that," suggested David. "Tell her you had this big love and big loss, but you want to make things work with her. What do you have to lose?"
Gold raised his eyes to the ceiling with a frustrated look.
"Everything, of course!" he snapped. "It was going well until the other night. I thought I could keep her with me. I thought I could keep her safe."
"What changed?" asked David curiously. "I mean, I don't know Lacey, but she doesn't seem the type to care too much what people think of her."
Gold's laugh held no amusement.
"Oh, she cares," he said knowingly. "She tells herself she doesn't, but she cares a great deal. Being second best isn't something she'd appreciate."
David sighed, and shifted the position of his elbows on the bar, leather jacket squeaking against the counter as he moved.
"Well, look at it this way," he said. "She must care about you, if the thought of not measuring up to Belle upsets her so much. Maybe you're not the only one with unexpressed feelings here."
Gold gave a hollow laugh, and took a mouthful of whisky, letting it burn his throat.
"What, so she loves me?" he asked dryly. "I'm afraid not, Charming. Belle loved me. For reasons I have never been able to comprehend, Belle loved me. Lacey is not Belle."
"She is," said David quietly. "She's both." He turned towards Gold, leaning in a little. "Look, remember when Snow went to you to get the forgetting potion? She didn't remember loving me, but her love returned, and true love's kiss broke the spell."
Gold's mouth twitched, and he looked down at his glass, the harsh overhead lights of the diner reflected in the whisky.
"We don't have the best track record with true love's kiss," he said quietly. "That was my fault. It would have worked if I'd let it. If I hadn't been afraid."
"It could work again," said David gently. "You just have to have faith. Faith in you and Belle, like I have faith in Snow."
Gold swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. "She's not Belle," he whispered, and David shook his head.
"She is," he said firmly. "It may be buried deep, but somewhere inside her, Belle's there. She's there and she's waiting for you to bring her out. To be the man she loves."
Gold set down his glass with more force than he intended, shaking his hair back from his face.
"I tried that!" he said fiercely. "I tried being the man Belle fell in love with. Lacey despises that man! No, fucking worse, she pities him! So I tried to be what Lacey wanted, but that didn't work either. I can't be what she wants. She can't love me."
"I think you're being too hard on yourself," said David. "She was happy with you until she found out about Belle, maybe she thinks you're holding back with her."
Gold looked away, grimacing, and David nodded slowly.
"You are holding back, aren't you?" he said knowingly. "What if the reason she feels like second best is because that's how you see her?"
Gold sighed, running a hand over his face.
"Perhaps," he admitted, feeling guilty, and David leant on the bar beside him.
"Do you love her?" he asked gently, and Gold hesitated. David nodded in understanding.
"Maybe you need to straighten out how you feel about her, and tell her," he said. "Don't hold back, Gold. Be honest with her, and tell her. At least then you'll both know where you stand."
Gold threw back the whisky, pushing himself away from the bar.
"Thank you," he said quietly, and David squeezed his shoulder.
*I hope things work out," he said, and Gold nodded, turning his back and walking from the diner.
He thought over what Charming had told him as he made his way back to the house on foot, leaving the car where it was parked. It was certainly true that his feelings for Lacey were complicated. When he looked at her he saw Belle, but she was also very much not Belle, and it was unbelievably painful to have his love so close and be unable to touch her. Rage burned in him at what Regina had done, a white-hot fire that scorched through him and devoured the last of his self-pity. Perhaps Charming was right. He had been holding back with Lacey, hoping she would somehow turn to him one day and be his Belle once more. Hoping his kiss would wake her as though he were Charming himself. He snorted under his breath in derision at the thought. He was certainly no Prince Charming. But he was Rumplestiltskin. He was the Dark One, the most powerful wielder of magic there was. There had to be a way.
He waited until she came over that evening to collect her things. She was subdued when he opened the door, closed off, her eyes red-rimmed as though she had been crying. Perhaps it was the poor night's sleep she had had. He himself felt wired and nervous, and a little light-headed, having drunk another couple of whiskies before she arrived. Anxiety clawed at him, whispering in his ear like a malevolent spirit as he watched her mount the stairs with her back to him. He followed her more slowly, and by the time he had reached her room she was already pulling clothing out of the closet and throwing it on the bed, where she had placed a suitcase.
"Would you mind driving me back when I'm done?" she asked, not looking at him as she folded skirts and tops. "Don't wanna drag this thing through town, you know? If you can't, it's cool. I'll call a cab."
Gold was silent, watching as she placed the folded items in her case, one by one. So little to mark her time there. So few things to take as she left his life. He took a breath, words jumbling inside his head as he tried to organise his thoughts.
"Lacey," he said quietly. "I - I want to talk to you. About - about us."
Lacey shot him a brief look, picking up a little dress and folding it quickly before dropping it in the case.
"Us?" she asked flatly. "There is no us, I'm moving out. Are you saying you want to date, or something? That you want to meet up for a quick bang once a week?" She snorted, turning back to her pile of clothing and folding another dress. "Sorry Gold, not interested. I mean, you're good, don't get me wrong, but…"
"That's not what I'm saying!" he said sharply. "Would you please look at me?"
Sighing, she stuffed the dress into the case and turned to face him, her jaw working a little.
"If you want the apartment, it's yours," he said. "I won't stop you going."
"Good," she said.
"But you're here, now," he added. "I - I don't know why you felt you had to leave, but I want to try and fix whatever it is that's broken. If you'll let me."
"There's nothing to fix," she said impatiently, rolling her eyes. "I don't even know why you care!"
"Because I don't want to see you hurt," he said. "And I don't - I don't want you to go."
"It's been decided," she said bluntly, and he felt as though she'd punched him, Belle's words bubbling out of her as though it were their first meeting. He felt just as in awe of her now as he had been then, and far less able to hide it. He tried to get to the heart of what he thought might be wrong. Why she wanted to leave.
"You were upset yesterday," he said. "When - when I told you about Belle."
She winced at the name, folding her arms around herself protectively and flicking her hair back as she looked over at him.
"Not every day the guy you're sleeping with tells you he's in love with someone else," she muttered, and he swallowed hard.
"Look, it's not what you think," he said gently. "I can't - it's hard for me to explain. My feelings for Belle, and my feelings for you are…"
He hesitated, and she watched him with narrowed eyes as he struggled to put it into words, lifting a hand and letting it fall against his leg with a soft slap.
"It's complicated," he finished lamely, and Lacey curled her lip, turning back to her packing.
"Guys always say it's fucking complicated," she said. "When in reality it's simple; they're being dicks. Not like I didn't expect it at some point. Every guy I've ever met has been a dick. Stands to reason you would be too."
She began stuffing clothes into the case without folding them, clearly eager to be away from him, and he tried to think of something else to say to keep her there.
"Please stay, Lacey," he whispered, and she straightened up with a sigh.
"Look, Gold, I'm sorry I asked you anything," she said. "Your past is your past, and it's none of my business."
"I don't want to live in the past," he said quietly. "I want to move forward. With you."
She looked up, surprised, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Yeah?" she asked. "What about Belle? You just gonna toss me aside if she comes back? Because I'm telling you now, Gold, if you think for one moment…"
"Lacey, what do you feel for me?" he interrupted, and for a moment she stood there with her mouth open, staring at him.
"What?" she asked blankly, and he took a step forward, making her eyes widen.
"For me," he said, his voice a low whisper, and he pressed a hand to his heart. "What do you feel for me?"
She licked her lips, suddenly nervous, her eyelids fluttering.
"Why?" she asked. "Why does it matter, it's not like it changes anything."
He hesitated, taking a breath, trying to be brave, to open his heart, to offer himself to her.
"Because I care for you," he said gently. "I care for you a great deal. I wondered - I wondered if you cared for me, too."
She looked up at him from beneath thick lashes, throwing aside the little skirt in her hands and putting her fists on her hips.
"You care for me?" she snapped. "What does that even mean? You care enough to want to see me every day, or you'd care if I got hit by a truck?"
"I care about you!" he said sharply. "I don't want you to leave, I want you here, with me! Now answer the question, what do you feel for me?"
"I don't know!" she shouted, stamping her foot in frustration. "I guess I like you, okay? You're nice, and you're kind, and I'm - I'm not used to that!"
"I don't understand why that's a bad thing," he began, and she shook her head vehemently.
"Because I know you're still in love with Belle, you idiot!" she said insistently. "I know you think of her when you're with me, and that she was some perfect fucking princess, and I'm just some trashy slut you feel sorry for, and I - I can't stand it, Gold!"
She broke off, blinking hard, and there were tears in her eyes. Her words pierced him like arrows, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself for what had happened to her, for how he could hurt her so, so much, without even meaning to.
"Lacey…" he whispered, reaching for her, and she shook him off.
"I can't be second-best any more!" she went on, her voice shaking a little. "I've been a disappointment all my fucking life, and I can't do it with you, do you understand? I can't stay here when I'm in love with you and you're thinking of her."
Her words hit him, a blow to the heart that left him almost breathless.
"You - you love me?" he whispered incredulously.
Lacey gaped at him, a blush rising in her cheeks, and her mouth opened and closed a couple of times as she tried to speak. She whirled away from him, busying herself with the packing, stuffing the clothes into her case in her haste to be gone. His heart was thumping, a spark of hope kindled in him. Perhaps something of Belle remained. Perhaps he could bring her back to him. He reached for her with a shaking hand that closed on her shoulder and made her flinch.
"Lacey," he breathed. "Please. Please look at me."
She turned slowly, eyes on the floor, and he waited as she lifted her head to look him in the eye. Her eyes were the clear blue of a winter sky, ringed with dark lashes and bright with pain. He reached up to touch her cheek, forefinger stroking over the softness of her skin and making her breath hitch. She swallowed, seeming to draw herself up.
"I had no idea," he breathed, and she shrugged.
"If it makes you feel any better, it was a shock to me too," she muttered. "Doesn't change anything."
"Of course it does."
He kept stroking her, his fingers dancing along her jawline and running through her hair, as though it would soothe her. As though it would keep her there with him. She leaned into his touch, her lower lip trembling a little, then pulled back, jerking her head away.
"I meant what I said," she said stubbornly. "I can't stay here. Not when you feel nothing for me."
"How can you say that?" he asked gently. "Of course I have feelings for you."
"Yeah, I know," she said witheringly. "You care. Great. Just what every girl wants to hear."
She made to turn away, but stopped at his touch on her arm. Sighing deeply, she looked up at him again, her expression one of weary resentment.
"I want to try to show you how I feel," he said then, wishing that he could put it into words. Wishing that he was certain of his feelings, and could reassure her properly. Wishing he wasn't so fucking useless. Lacey pursed her lips, and he could almost feel her mind working as she ran her eyes up and down his body, her gaze burning him. Hesitantly, he reached up to cup her cheek once more, and this time she didn't pull away. She licked her lips, the tip of her pink tongue flicking out to moisten them and leave a glistening sheen of saliva.
"Okay, Gold," she said quietly. "You want me, right? You think it'll change anything, if we have sex? You think that'll fix things?"
"I'm not asking for that," he said patiently.
"Yeah?" She shook her hair back and lifted her chin, seeming to warm to her role, to the part she was playing. The mask she wore. "Well, maybe I am. One last time, how about it?"
"I don't want one last time," he insisted. "I want to fix what we have, Lacey. Please, just let me try."
She looked him over, a smirk on her lips and a gleam in her eyes. But there was sadness there too, and pain, and loss, and a terrible desolation that she tried to hide behind sooty lashes and painted lids and a twist of her soft mouth. He wished he knew what to say to make her feel better.
"Okay," she said, and her voice had lowered, gone throaty. "Let's try."
She lunged at him, kissing him fiercely, her hands pushing the jacket from his shoulders and down his arms. Eyes gone wide at her eagerness, he shrugged it off, throwing it behind him without looking and hoping that it hit the chair rather than the floor. Lacey bit down into his lower lip, grabbing at his tie and picking at the knot, and he caught her wrists in his hand, his fingers wrapping around them firmly as he pulled his mouth from hers.
"No, no, don't do that," he said gently, and she fell back on her heels, frowning. He brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, running his thumb over her lower lip, already deep pink and swollen from the pressure of his mouth.
"I want to show you something," he whispered, and the hand turned to cup her cheek. "Let me do this, sweetheart. Let me - let me try to show you how I feel."
She blinked a few times, uncertainty on her face, and he tried to give her a reassuring smile. He took a step back from her, releasing her wrists, and then held out his hand for her to take. She slid her palm across his, her hand warm and smooth, and her curled his fingers around it, gently pulling her with him out of her room and along the landing to his. The room was dark and cool, the curtains already drawn, and he turned on the lamps, their soft, warm glow blooming outwards and throwing shadows around the room. He moved to close the door, and Lacey stood there a little awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. He removed his cufflinks, setting them on the dresser, and tugged open the knot of his tie, pulling at the length of dark blue silk until it came undone, and laying it over the back of the chair. She watched him unbutton his shirt, oddly guarded and reticent, and he shrugged it off and sent it to join the tie before stepping up to her.
He was nervous, and the only thing that was allowing him to hide it was the feeling that she was every bit as nervous. It was a comfort, a reminder of what had been, a reminder of his first time with Belle and how they had both felt, their insecurity and anxiety. His hands had shook as he undressed her, her touch hesitant and delicate on his skin as they shed their layers, as they revealed themselves. She had been pale and perfect, a vision of loveliness laid down on his bed, and he had felt awkward and old and ugly, embarrassed by his thin frame and his greying hair and his ruined leg. But Belle had smiled up at him as though she saw something wonderful, and had kissed the knotted scar tissue and the lumps of badly healed bone. He had kissed her back, pressing his lips to every inch of her skin, and the first cries of pleasure he had drawn from her had been like music.
Lacey's eyes were wide as he stroked his hands gently over her curves, her expression uncertain. Her dress was small and tight, and he had to pull it over her head, which left her hair tousled and her cheeks a little flushed, and he smiled at her, reaching up to cradle her face in his hands. She was breathing hard as he bent his head to her, and let out a tiny moan as their lips met, as his mouth pressed down on hers. She ran her hands up his naked back, her fingertips sending shivers through him, and he parted her lips with his tongue, gently sliding inside her mouth to taste her. She pushed herself against him, her skin warm and soft, and he slid his hands down her arms and around her back to unhook her bra, pulling it from her and reaching down to cup her rear and squeeze. Lacey moaned into his mouth, and he pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her throat as he pushed her underwear down over her hips, the little thong falling around her ankles and leaving her naked except for her bright blue heels. She kicked them off, sinking down onto her heels, and he cupped her cheeks again, pressing a kiss to her forehead and making her swallow hard.
"On the bed," he whispered, and she took a step back, moving to crawl on the bed on hands and knees. He watched her, the sweet curves of her slender body, the way her muscles moved beneath her skin and the tiny dimples at the top of her thighs. She was on her knees, looking back over her shoulder at him with her hair falling around her face, and he shook his head, turning his finger in a circle.
"Lie back," he said, and she turned around, lying on her back and wriggling a little to make herself more comfortable. He unbuckled his belt and took off the rest of his clothes, crawling onto the bed to join her. She reached up, running her fingers through his hair, a troubled expression on her face, and he pushed himself up on his elbows, lifting a brow.
"What is it?" he asked gently, and she shook her head.
"I'm gonna miss you, Gold," she whispered, and it felt as though something had stabbed him in the chest, a sharp, tearing pain that left him breathless.
He wanted to say something, to tell her she was wrong, that it needn't be the end, but then she kissed him, swallowing down the words that had formed in his throat, his assurance that this needn't be goodbye. Her lips were soft and warm, moist with her saliva, and he lost himself in the kiss for a moment, his free hand stroking over her breast and squeezing. Lacey pushed against him with a tiny noise of pleasure, and he pulled his mouth away to trail kisses down her neck to her breast, his tongue flicking out and making her twitch as he ran it across her nipple. Her skin smelt of vanilla, a heady sweetness that excited him, and he longed to move further down the bed and push his head between her thighs, where she would smell of her own musk, of warmth and love and Belle.
He sucked at her, swirling his tongue in a circle around her nipple, and Lacey gasped and pushed her hands through his hair, her nails scraping against him and making him shiver. She was breathing heavily as he kissed his way down over her belly, the muscles of her abdomen clenching at his touch, and he moved lower, until his head was between her pale thighs and he could smell her fragrance. She was flawlessly beautiful to look at, the hair removed by wax to leave the skin smooth and as soft as brushed silk, the dusky pink of her sex revealed to him. Moisture gleamed in the cleft between her thighs, and he pressed his lips to her, making her moan, a brief dab of fluid on his lower lip. Slowly, he slid his tongue out to touch her, trailing it between the soft folds of flesh, and Lacey cried out, fingers tightening in his hair.
"Fuck, Gold!" she whispered. "Damn, you're good at that, you bastard!"
He grinned, and began to sweep his tongue through her folds, the tip of his tongue circling her clit, the flat of it scraping against her. She tasted just as she ever had, salty and delicious, and he buried his nose in the wet petals of her flesh, breathing her in and wishing he could make it right. She was moving her hips, rocking against him, and he licked her in a steady rhythm, feeling her tensing, feeling her near her peak. Belle had always loved it when he did this for her. The first time she had been astonished, but eager to experience something new, having read vague references in some of the more salacious texts in his library. He smiled to himself as he remembered how beautifully she had blushed when he told her what he was going to do, and how the soft pink stain of that blush had spread down onto her chest as he kissed his way down between her legs.
Lacey gasped as he flicked at her with the tip of his tongue, her thighs gripping the sides of his head. He pulled his mind away from Belle, away from what he had shared with her and back to Lacey. He knew what he felt for Belle. He knew he loved Belle. It was Lacey that he needed to concentrate on tonight. He swept his tongue over her flesh, her body undulating beneath him, her fingers twisting in his hair as her moans increased in pitch, and she arched her back with a cry as she came, her hips jerking, hot fluids bathing his tongue as he groaned in pleasure. He stroked the sensitive flesh with his tongue, swallowing every last drop of her bliss, and she twitched in his arms as his tongue touched her, tiny moans still coming from her.
Eventually she stilled, her breath hard and heavy, and he began kissing his way up her body, running his tongue over the plane of her stomach and nibbling along the sweeping curve of her ribs. Her hands stroked through his hair, her body limp and lazy from her orgasm, and he growled under his breath as his cock pressed against her thigh, as he neared his goal. He was achingly hard, the taste of her still in his mouth, making him tingle with desire for her, and he kissed her breasts and up over her chest to her neck. Lacey moaned as he suckled at the point where her pulse throbbed, hot and heavy, and the moan became a cry of pleasure as he bit down.
He slipped a hand between them, down into the heat and wetness at the apex of her thighs, and gently stroked her, making her moan again. She was soaking, wet with his saliva and her own juices, warm and slippery and ready for him, and he slowly pushed two fingers inside her, making her arch her back with a low hum of pleasure. His thumb rubbed at her clit, and she pushed her head back, eyes closed and mouth opened, her deep pink lips glistening as she moaned. Gods, she was beautiful! His breath hardened as he watched her, his fingers slowly sliding in and out of her, his thumb circling, and he shifted his position slightly so that his cock was pressed against his hand, the wet heat spreading along its length as he worked her. She was already close, her second orgasm easier to attain, and she came again with a series of low moans, her head bouncing against the pillows.
Smirking to himself, he withdrew his fingers and positioned himself at her entrance, running his hands up her body to push through her hair as he looked down on her. Lacey's eyelids flickered open and she gazed up at him sleepily, a lazy smile on her face.
"That was incredible," she murmured. "Was that what you wanted to show me?"
He stroked her hair back, the dark curls damp with perspiration and her own fluids from the touch of his fingers.
"Not quite," he whispered, and canted his hips, pressing his forehead to hers as he began pushing smoothly inside her.
Lacey moaned again, sliding her hands down his naked back to rest her fingertips in the groove of his spine. She lifted her knees a little, allowing him to push deeper, and he sank into her with a groan, her breath warm and sweet on his face. He began to move his hips in a slow circle, grinding against her as he kissed along her jaw and down her throat, and Lacey cried out as his tongue found her pulse point again, as he licked at the reddish patch of skin where he had bitten her. She felt incredible in his arms, warm and soft and tight around him, and he pushed up on his elbows and gazed down at her, his heart filling with happiness as he looked at her flushed cheeks and parted lips, at the way her eyes flicked up and held him tight in their gaze. In this moment, there was no uncertainty, no defensiveness, no hiding from him. Her mask was stripped away, and she was just there, and his. She was Belle, and she was Lacey, and it was hard to tell where one left off and the other began. Belle had Lacey's fire, her spirit and her courage, albeit quieter and more restrained. Lacey had Belle's intelligence, her vulnerability and need for love, hidden as they were behind the walls of hard drinking and foul-mouthed bravado. The woman in his arms was both, and he realised with sudden clarity that he loved both, these sides of her he had grown to know and cherish. He loved her, completely and utterly.
The realisation hit him hard, and for a moment he was breathless, frozen in her embrace. Lacey looked up at him curiously, her fingers gently stroking his back, sliding up to his shoulders.
"What's the matter?" she whispered, and he shook his head, shifting his position so that he could brush her hair back from her face. He stared down at her, at the pure beauty of her face in his cupped hands, her eyes wide and dark with desire and strength and - yes - with love. He could see it, burning there inside her, glowing like an ember in the depths of her soul.
"I love you," he whispered. "I love you, Lacey."
Her breath hitched, her mouth dropping open a little, and she swallowed hard, one hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. She nodded.
"I - I love you too," she said softly. Her fingers caressed his skin, her thumb running across his lip, and he bent his head to hers, their lips pressing together as he thrust inside her once more.
He felt the magic before he saw it, a heavy pulse of energy blooming outwards from their lips and taking her curse with it. She gasped, stiffening in his arms, and he watched with desperate agony as he waited to see what would follow. Her eyes were closed, her breath heaving in her chest, and then she was calm. He waited, by turns hopeful and desperately anxious, and then she opened her eyes and looked up at him.
"Rumple?" she whispered, and his face crumpled as tears stung his eyes.
"Oh, Belle!" he said brokenly. "My Belle!"
She shook her head, fingers trembling as they touched his face, as though she couldn't believe he was real.
"I'm sorry!" he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry, Belle! I didn't know how to fix it. I didn't know how to bring you back to me!"
"You kept me safe," she said softly. "You kept me close, Rumple, and you loved me."
"Yes." He pressed his forehead to hers. "I love you, Belle. I love you so, so much!"
He pulled back, barely able to believe that she was back with him. She was blinking rapidly, tears leaking from her eyes, and he brushed them away with his thumbs, his own tears streaming down his face as he kissed her. She opened her mouth to him, a tiny moan escaping her, and he let his tongue stroke against hers, groaning into her mouth as she lifted her hips and pushed against him. He was still inside her, still hard within her, and he began to move, thrusting into her and making her moan into his mouth. Belle let her hands slip down to his shoulders, fingertips digging into his skin, lifting her knees higher and wrapping her legs around his back to keep him there. He quickened his pace a little, sensations rising through his body in rippling waves, his hands shaking as they stroked her cheeks, fingers heavy with her scent. She was moving against him, slick with sweat and burning his skin with her own, her breath coming in pants as he ran his tongue up the length of her throat and over her chin. He could feel her tensing, her body tightening, and she threw her head back with a cry as she came, clenching around him, her nails scoring his back and fresh tears squeezed from her eyes. Stars burst behind his eyelids as he followed her over the edge, and he whispered her name over and over, spurting deep inside her as she held him close.
They lay still, trying to catch their breath, wrapped around one another, and he rested his forehead against hers with a shuddering sigh as she stroked his hair, her fingers carding through it. It felt wonderful, and he closed his eyes and lost himself in the warmth of her touch, the softness of her skin, the familiarity of her scent.
"I don't understand what happened," she said softly. "The last thing I remember - as me, I mean - was it Regina?"
"Yes." He pushed his face into the hollow between her neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply, and her hands stilled.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know." He pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at her, and she gave him a tremulous smile, reaching up to touch his face. He kissed her fingertips.
"True love's kiss," she mused. "It wouldn't work before, because I - Lacey - didn't love you, and you didn't love her."
"No," he agreed. "But I grew to. I grew to love a different part of you, that's all."
"I understand." She stroked his hair back from his face, the soft strands falling between her fingers. "She's still in here, you know. Still a part of me."
"Should I be worried?" he asked, amused, and she let out a giggle.
"I think you shouldn't think about going to work for a day or two," she whispered, with a gleam in her eyes. "We have plans for you, Mr Gold."
A/N: I promised to fix it, and I did!