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If asked what he’d been expecting, Rumplestiltskin was unsure what his answer might have been. All he knew for certain was that it most definitely had not been this!
A few weeks previous, Belle had informed him that the fall fundraiser for the library was going to be a costume party. His lovely wife was determined to embrace the customs of their new world, and an event the week before Halloween, she had decided, demanded a nod to the trappings of the season. He’d offered to provide whatever the library needed, but she had simply rolled those beautiful blue eyes at him.
“You will not buy or magic your way out of this, Rumplestiltskin!”
He’d made an elaborate show of pretending to be offended at the mere suggestion, causing Belle to giggle and wrap her arms around his neck.
“It will be fun, Rumple.” She’d nuzzled into his hair and offered a playful nip at his ear then. “I promise.” The word promise had dripped with such suggestion he couldn’t help but agree, albeit with no little reluctance.
He’d passed that first week after in constant fear that she would present him with a pair of costumes that would destroy his fearsome reputation the moment he set foot out his door. Belle had done absolutely nothing to assuage those fears… indeed the cruel wench took delight in considering him with a barely concealed smirk at regular intervals, muttering evil taunts like the Dark Bunny. She’d finally taken pity on him, telling him that she’d chosen a costume for herself, but that it was a surprise. He’d have to work out what to wear on his own. He was unsure whether this development was better or worse, but in the end he’d decided that his magic would allow him to make a last minute choice after he’d seen what Belle would be wearing. She wasn’t completely happy with his solution, but had conceded that it was a fair compromise.
And so he found himself in the small flat above the library where Belle had asked him to meet her before the event. He’d been less than thrilled when she’d announced her intention to keep the place when she’d moved back into the pink house, but he had to admit that it had come in handy on more than one occasion. Much as those blasted Charmings insisted on barging in on them with alarming regularity, they never thought to look here, obvious though it should have been. The library flat seemed to be the only place in Storybrooke that afforded them any real guarantee of privacy… not to mention an interesting venue for the occasional role play.
Belle had greeted him at the door in her costume when he arrived, leaving him entirely speechless. She was clad in a tiny French maid’s outfit, complete with the shortest skirt he could recall seeing her - or Lacey, for that matter - wear since they’d come to this world, though the voluminous lace ruffles pouring out from beneath it covered her arse at least… barely. Not that anyone would notice, distracted as they would surely be by the length of perfect leg leading the eye down to towering heels that made his cock twitch. Those legs were encased in seamed black fishnet stockings, garters peeking out just under the lacy ruffles at the top of Belle’s thighs. When he managed to raise his gaze above her waist, he found that the bodice of the thing was every bit as enticing… black satin was laced up to a plunging neckline crowned by a floppy white bow spilling over her breasts, and he found that he wanted nothing more than to take an end of that bow between his teeth and tug it loose. A little white apron and the feather duster that his wife was twirling casually in a graceful hand were the finishing touches to the ensemble.
No, he could truly say that this had never crossed his mind when Belle announced her plans for a costume party… and so here he was, barely able to think, let alone form words. He simply stood there gaping at her, eyes raking over her with obvious hunger as she gave him her most innocent smile.
“Do you like your surprise, Rumple?”
“Wha…?” he stammered. “Yes! Yes, very much,” he finally managed.
She closed the distance between them with a smile that was considerably less innocent than it had been, brushing along the back of his hand with the feather duster. “Didn’t I promise I’d make sure you had fun?”
“That you did,” he agreed, having finally regained the power of coherent speech. He reached out to wrap a hand about her waist and tug her closer. “And I see that you’ve made sure to amuse yourself as well.” He grinned at her. “I’m not sure how many of the townspeople will get the joke, sweetheart.”
“You get it,” she murmured, eyes twinkling with amusement, “that’s enough for me.”
Among the many things he loved about Belle, the fact that they shared a rather quirky sense of humor was very near to the top of that list. So when she drew back, planting a hand on her hip and fixing him with a decided challenge in those brilliant blue eyes, he knew before the question passed her lips just how he would respond.
“Now you know what I’m wearing, Rumple, so you have no more excuses…”
He didn’t even allow her to finish before stepping back and waving a hand with an elaborate flourish. The pawnbroker was enveloped in a cloud of dense purple, and when it cleared the Dark One of the Enchanted Forest stood in his place… and it was Belle’s turn to be speechless.
“A maid needs a master, Dearie.” He adjusted his voice to the high pitched twitter she had grown so familiar with in her months in the Dark Castle and raised a suggestive eyebrow with a decidedly wicked grin. His expression quickly turned to one of uncertainty when Belle did nothing but continue to stare at him, and his next thought came far too easily… of course she didn’t wish to be reminded of the truth of just what she had tied herself to. “Belle?” His tone was back to the lower, softer pitch of Mr. Gold. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll just…”
“No!” she shouted quickly, the moment he raised a hand to undo the transformation. She had his wrist in a vice grip before it could even twitch, let alone wave away his mistake. “Don’t, Rumple. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen you like this.”
“I know, Sweetheart,” he whispered, reaching out to stroke a finger along her cheek. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think… you certainly don’t need a reminder of the monster you married, Belle. Let me…”
“How many times do I have to tell you? You are not a monster, Rumplestiltskin. I was just…” she trailed off with an exasperated sigh, and reached up to run a delicate hand along the line of his jaw. “It’s been too many years since I saw the man I fell in love with.”
It took him a moment to register what she’d said, and when he did he found himself shaking his head, certain he’d misunderstood. “The man you… Belle, you wanted a man even then, not…” he waved a hand to indicate his current state, “… not this.”
“I wanted you, Rumple… all of you. I always have.” She must have seen the disbelief in his eyes, because she pushed on. “Don’t you think I know that I fell in love with the Dark One? I know you think it was a shock to see you like this because it’s a reminder of the darkness, but that wasn’t… Rumple, I’d forgotten how much I wanted you back then.”
“You…?” Perfect… he was back to stammering like an idiot. “I don’t… how?”
“I still don’t understand how you managed to miss it. You’re so aware of the subtleties in all of your deals, and I always felt so obvious. You must have at least noticed how much I liked those leathers.” She had lowered her eyes with a rather fetching blush as she spoke, but raised them to find him looking at her with utter confusion. “I used to watch you spin, you know. I’d watch the light play across your face, your hands on the wheel…” and here she took up one of his hands in hers, tracing her fingers over his. “I’d watch your hands on the wheel and imagine these claws tracing patterns along my skin.” Her eyes stayed on their hands until she heard his choked whisper. It was only her name, but it was enough to bring her eyes to his, and he could not deny what he saw in them… her pupils were blown wide, the desire unmistakable. “It was the Dark One I thought of when I touched myself in bed at night, not an ordinary man, Rumple. It was the Dark One I wanted to…” She lowered her eyes again. “I was never so naive as you thought. I knew very well how some men… used their servants.”
“Belle! You must know that I would never…”
Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I do,” she assured him. “I knew it then, too.” Her gaze fell back to his hand, still clasped tightly in hers. “I think that’s what allowed me to spin such vivid fantasies of… well,” she chuckled, “let’s just say that I wanted the opportunity to take care of your rather large estate.” She looked up at him from beneath thick lashes, her lower lip trapped between her teeth… and suddenly they were both laughing, back to their shared joke, with no trace of his insecurities to come between them in that moment.
If Belle truly wanted the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin decided, then the Dark One she would have. He leaned into her with a decidedly predatory gleam in his eyes, his voice once again rising in pitch.
“Obviously, I’ve failed to take full advantage of your…” and here he let his gaze fall to that tantalizing bow once again. “… skills as a care taker, Dearie.” He reached out to play with one of the trailing ends of ribbon, curling it around a finger. “I think perhaps it’s time I allow you to demonstrate the full range of your talents, my lovely little maid.”
Her breath hitched as she raised darkened eyes to his, and by all the gods she was the most spectacular woman he had ever laid eyes on. He would never understand why she wanted him, but there was no denying the obvious signs of her desire. She captured her lower lip with her teeth once more, and he could not resist the urge to displace them in favor of his own. He pulled her flush against him while her hands tangled in his hair, the claws she’d wanted to feel on her skin slipping underneath the layers of lace just above her stockings and trailing along the curve of her ass.
“Rumple.” She breathed his name against his lips, and all he wanted to do was swallow the delightful moans that followed… but he had a role to play, so he pulled back to look at her with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s a little familiar for the help, isn’t it, Dearie?”
She simply stared at him for a moment, full lips parted, before those lovely blue eyes sharpened and she barked a breathless laugh. “Said the man groping his maid.” She regarded him with a delightfully sinful smirk. “I suppose you’d prefer Master?”
It was a struggle to keep his response from coming out on a groan. “I believe Master will do,” he allowed.
“Mmmm… well, I’m afraid it’ll have to do later,” she announced, shifting abruptly. “We should already be downstairs.” She moved to pull away from him, but he held her in place with hands firmly at her hips.
“But, sweetheart,” he began, dropping his voice into it’s normal register, “don’t you want to finish this before I change?”
“Change? Oh no, you’ll do no such thing! This is perfect, Rumple.” She had that determined set to her jaw.
“Belle,” he sighed, “it may be perfect for you, but I doubt the good citizens of Storybrooke wish to spend the evening with the Dark One.”
She offered him a serene smile. “It seems perfectly in keeping with the customs of Halloween,” she began in her most reasonable tone, “… and besides, you can’t tell me that you won’t enjoy the opportunity to terrorize the guests?” She tilted her head expectantly and he rewarded her with a slow grin.
“Well, you did promise it would be fun.” He raised his eyebrows in a gesture that was every bit the imp she had first met in her father’s war room.
She ran her hands over the rich brocade of his waistcoat. “You get to troll the town as the Dark One of the Enchanted Forest for the evening and then take advantage of your innocent little maid.” She lowered her head and looked up at him through her lashes. “Anyone would think I’d planned this evening just for you.”
“Well,” he chuckled, “when you put it that way…” He snapped his fingers and they were enveloped in another cloud of purple smoke that cleared to find them suddenly standing in the middle of the Storybrooke library behind a small group of Charmings, with Rumple’s arm wrapped about Belle’s waist and the Dark One’s high pitched giggle in her ears.
David spun around, hand going to his hip to seek out the hilt of the sword he was not wearing with his dog costume, and the look on his face at the sight of Rumple was enough to have Belle biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. David’s hand was scraping along his flank, still grasping for the absent sword, when Rumplestiltskin spoke.
“Fleas, Dearie?”
“Wha…? No!” the prince snapped, jerking his arm up and crossing it with the other over his chest. “Gold, what were you thinking coming here like that?” Rumplestiltskin simply raised an eloquent eyebrow and looked pointedly at the large fuzzy ear that fell across David’s eyes when he tilted his head. The prince rarely caught on quickly, but this time he was well aware of the sorcerer’s point. “Yeah, well it was Snow’s idea,” he muttered, looking over to his wife who was clad in a fitted black catsuit complete with tail and kitten ears attached to the headband tucked into her hair. She, and the savior standing next to her, were gaping at Rumplestiltskin with identical shocked expressions.
“It seems we’ve both dressed to please our wives this evening.” Rumple smirked and tightened his hold on Belle’s waist, tugging her closer and turning to nuzzle briefly into the chestnut curls tumbling down from the high ponytail she’d gathered them into.
All three Charmings shifted their focus to the petite librarian tucked against his side, but it was Emma who spoke.
“You really asked for him like…” she waved her arm in Rumple’s direction, “that?”
Rumple made an elaborate show of being offended while Belle arched an exasperated eyebrow, her mouth turning down in a frown of distinct disapproval. To her credit, Emma raised her hands in a gesture of surrender almost immediately, and Belle allowed her frown to shift into her sweetest smile, the one she reserved for those who truly annoyed her.
“Much as I love Rumple’s suits, I do miss the leather in this realm.” She regarded her husband with obvious appreciation, causing both the savior and her mother to become very interested in something over by the circulation desk. The prince, for his part, had finally noticed Belle’s costume and was very focused on not showing any appreciation at all in the presence of her husband… particularly in his current form.
“It’s just…” It was Snow White who spoke while looking towards the ceiling. “most of the people here have… well, unpleasant associations with the Dark One, and it might not be…”
‘The associations aren’t pleasant in any form, Dearie,” Rumple interrupted with a dismissive flutter of the hand not currently splayed out along Belle’s hip, “so I may as well please my wife.”
“Grandpa?” Rumple turned to find Henry next to Belle, tilting his head to one side as he regarded his grandfather with frank appraisal. “Cool!” he announced. Belle beamed at him, then shot his mother and grandmother another pointed look.
“If you’re done with your critique of our costumes…” she began, but was interrupted by the arrival of the blue fairy.
The bothersome little insect was looking even more sanctimonious than usual, if that were possible. She was clad in a traditional full length nun’s habit complete with veil, an elaborate cross draped about her neck. “Do you really think either of them is appropriate?” Her tone was irritatingly smug, her gaze pointedly sweeping over Belle before turning to a glare as she shifted her focus to Rumplestiltskin.
“Don’t believe anyone asked for your opinion, Dearie,” Rumplestiltskin twittered, “but since we’re sharing, I’ll just say that what your costume choice lacks in creativity, it makes up for in…” He paused to regard her with distaste. “… piety.”
“As I was saying,” Belle began, before the fairy could attempt a reply, “I really do need to circulate a bit.” She glanced at Rumple, the question evident in her eyes, but he simply waved her off with a flourish.
“Run along, sweetheart. I’m sure I can manage to entertain myself.”
And that he did. Each time Belle sought him out over the course of the evening, she found him taunting someone foolish enough to engage him or slow enough to get caught in his sights. Once she heard him trilling “Look like you’ve seen a ghost, Dearie.” to one of the dwarves over by the elevator.
Midway through the evening, she caught part of a tense conversation between Rumple and her father on her way back from showing Dr. Whale were to find the few books she had on the subject of lycanthropy.
“I suppose you picked out that…” Moe was red in the face and sputtering. “… that scrap of fabric for her?”
“No,” Rumple sneered, “not even a hint before tonight.” Then he went on with a suggestive smirk, not surprisingly unable to resist the opportunity. “… only a promise that she’d make sure I enjoyed myself.”
Well, it served him right. She may have agreed to forgive him, but she certainly hadn’t forgotten what he’d tried to do to her. And Rumple… well, given his feelings about her father, he was being positively angelic.
Belle caught him staring once or twice when he wasn’t toying with anyone, looking at her from across the room with such love she could hardly catch her breath or a blatant hunger that left her weak. She kept expecting him to slip up behind her, startle her in some way… it was one of his favorite games when they were in the Dark Castle, but he left her be to work the room and see to her hostess duties.
She did plenty of staring herself when he wasn’t looking. How was it that no one but her could see how beautiful he’d been? She certainly found him handsome here in Storybrooke, and there was no denying that he cut quite a figure in the impeccable suits Mr. Gold favored… but there was just something about her Rumplestiltskin. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed the imp until he was there in front of her again, and she found herself flushing hot at the thought of finally being able to have him like this.
After a couple of hours playing the dutiful hostess and accepting several sizable donations that she was certain her husband had… inspired, she slipped back into the stacks to replace several books that people had left laying about over the course of the evening. Away from the crowd, she allowed her thoughts to turn to just how she might convince Rumple that the Dark One should make more frequent appearances. She’d have to be very explicit in sharing a few of her more frequent fantasies from her time in the Dark Castle to convince him to do this again… maybe he could even find that table from the great hall. Rumple believed that most of her kinks had come from Lacey, and Lacey had supplied a few including Rumple’s favorite, but his demure little caretaker would surely have surprised him in that regard if he’d only given her the chance. It occurred to her as she tugged over a step ladder to tuck the last of the books onto a high shelf that she hadn’t been too specific earlier, but he had still managed to catch on to her hints at her very favorite fantasy from her time in the Dark Castle… and she couldn’t wait to be taken by her master when the last of the library patrons had cleared out.
“Careful, Dearie!” Rumple suddenly chirped from just behind her. “You’re clumsy on ladders, you know.”
She turned her head to look down at him over her shoulder. “But you’re here now.” She smiled. “I’m sure you’ll catch me if I fall.”
“I’m a busy man, Dearie.” He moved closer, a hand slipping out to encircle her ankle. “I don’t have time to stand about waiting to catch clumsy little maids…” and here he trailed the hand up her calf and along her thigh, the tip of one claw finally brushing over bare skin just above her stocking. “… no matter how fetching they may be.”
Belle had no idea how he managed to combine the Dark One’s lilt with the growl that those last few words came out on, but he was definitely going to have to keep doing that! Her knees threatened to give way, and all she wanted was to hear that voice in her ear while he fucked her. She was well aware that the library was still full of people, but they were far back in the stacks. She doubted anyone would come looking for Rumplestiltskin and didn’t care in any case. It seemed her husband was thinking along similar lines, because he suddenly grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down from the ladder and back against him.
“Don’t you have any books to tuck away on the lower shelves?” She could feel his lips curling into a grin against the back of her neck. “I do so love to watch you work, little maid.”
“I’m afraid that was the last of them,” she sighed.
“No more books then.” His hands skimmed along the length of her bare arms to grasp her wrists, the tip of his nose tracing over the shell of an ear as he leaned closer before going on in a taunting whisper. “I suppose I’ll just have to find something else for you to do.” He released his hold on her and took a step back, just enough to allow her to turn to face him.
Belle was more than prepared to play the part of the innocent little maid, but was brought up short when she saw the way he was looking at her. The Dark One’s eyes had hidden so much of the man behind them in the Enchanted Forest, she’d never managed to catch more than a glimpse here and there before he realized he’d let his guard down and quickly corrected his mistake. She’d always wondered how expressive they might have been if he’d truly allowed it, and tonight her Rumplestiltskin was unguarded, open to her in a way that she’d never dared to hope for all those years ago. It was utterly breathtaking.
She simply gazed at him for a long moment, eventually pulling her eyes away from his to appreciate the way that high open collar drew attention to his exposed throat and the limited, but oh so tempting expanse of skin that disappeared beneath brocade and golden silk.
She did her best to look and sound innocent when she finally spoke. “What would you have me turn my attention to now, Rumplestiltskin?”
“Well, now there’s an interesting question.” He advanced on her, forcing her back until she was pressed against the bookcases behind her and he was so close that she could feel the heat from his body. The look in his eyes had turned distinctly predatory. He reached out to take hold of an end of the ribbon that lay across her breast, and she gasped as he grinned and gave it a tug, loosening the bow that held her bodice tight. With the bow undone, he turned his attention to slipping a claw inside the lacings, slowly drawing the ribbon out of each eyelet with maddening patience and allowing it to caress his hand before falling to lay against her increasingly bare skin.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Answering your question, Dearie,” he drawled, his attention focused on the ribbon slipping through his fingers. “You’re a smart girl… surely you must know what I have in mind.”
“Tell me anyway?” It was barely audible, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
“Very well.” Rumplestiltskin shifted his attention from his task, gaze leaving her breasts to fix on wide, blue eyes. “I think it’s time for my pretty little maid to turn her attention to her master’s cock.”
She pressed even further back into the bookcase in a desperate attempt to keep her legs underneath her and managed to force a single word out with a breathless moan. “Please.” She would have liked to manage some half-hearted attempt at a protest to prolong the seduction, but she simply wanted him too much to delay any longer.
“So eager!” He trilled a hoarse, satisfied giggle and leaned into her, reaching up to trace his thumb along the curve of her lips. “And such a pretty mouth. I’m sure we can put it to good use.” He waved a hand with an elaborate flourish and was suddenly holding a plump cushion, watching as she registered what was in his hand with a soft oh! and sucking in a harsh breath as her teeth closed over her lower lip in the familiar gesture that never failed to drive him to distraction.
Once again, he stepped back, leaving just enough distance between them to drop the cushion at his feet, then regarded her with an expectant lift of his eyebrows. Her gaze fell to the small square of velvet, and she felt her skin burn hot as she raised her eyes back up to lock onto Rumplestiltskin’s before lowering herself onto it. He held her gaze until she was on the floor, and then his eyes left hers to take in the sight of her on her knees in front of him. She was well aware of the picture she made kneeling at her master’s feet… bodice unlaced, breasts exposed and flushed with heat, nipples stretched into tight little peaks betraying her arousal, lips parted in anticipation as she stared at the obvious bulge in his leathers. He made a sound deep in the back of his throat and loosened his laces with a snap of his fingers, but left her to peel back the supple leather and draw out his hard length herself.
Her eyes rose to his again only when she held his rigid cock in her hand. Those strange eyes that had always fascinated her so were even more beautiful to her now when they were filled with such obvious desire. She watched them as she leaned forward and took him into her mouth, swirled her tongue around the head of his cock before sliding her lips down along the shaft… watched them grow impossibly darker and flutter closed when she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked him further into her mouth, then pulled back to the very tip. He plunged a hand into her hair, fingers weaving through the curls that fell about her face to lift them out of the way as he opened his eyes to watch his cock slide between her lips again, watch her hand move to wrap around the base and chase her mouth back up to the head. His mouth went slack when she abruptly sucked him back in and he felt more than heard her soft hum of pleasure. She was just pressing the flat of her tongue to the underside of his shaft…
“Oh no! I did not need to see that!” He raised hooded eyes to find Emma Swan standing at the end of the bookcases, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and examining the ceiling before turning her back to them… but failing to walk away and leave them to finish their game.
Belle had not been inclined to stop for a minor interruption, but finally admitted defeat when Rumplestiltskin heaved a pained sigh and growled, ‘What is so important that it can’t wait this time, MIss Swan?” She withdrew her mouth from him with deliberate languor, releasing him with an audible pop that caused the savior to groan and drop her head into her hands with her eyes screwed shut.
“Mom said she left Neal’s stuffed dragon here when you watched him this morning?” Emma choked out. “She wants to get it back before we leave. It…” she was stammering now, eyes open but firmly fixed on her feet this time. “she says it’s impossible to get him to sleep without it.”
Belle sat back on her heels with an exasperated sigh. “Honestly, that couldn’t have waited until we were finished here?”
“Who knows how long it takes you two once you get going!” Emma had started to turn around but abruptly reversed the movement when she noticed that Belle had made no move to rise from her place at Rumplestiltskin’s feet, even though a resigned flourish had righted their clothing. “I hear stories, you know,” she accused, voice rising with agitation. She gestured at them as best she could from behind her back. “Sneezy is permanently traumatized after that thing out behind the Rabbit Hole.” Rumplestiltskin snorted, prompting the embarrassed blonde to raise her eyes to the ceiling again and snap, “Not helping!” The sounds coming from the floor made it perfectly clear that Belle was struggling not to laugh. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” She clapped a hand over her eyes. “Will you just tell me where the damn dragon is so I can get out of here and try to pretend that I never saw…” She flailed an arm out behind her back. “… that?”
“It’s in my office, on the desk,” Belle said, each word dripping with irritation, “which you could have figured out for yourself if you’d taken a minute to think about it and looked in there instead of running to…”
“Thanks, all I needed to know.” And she was gone, hand still in place across her eyes as she disappeared around the corner of a bookshelf.
Belle looked after her for a moment, finally rolling her eyes and turning back to see that Rumplestiltskin had extended a hand to help her to her feet. With one last glare after the departed Emma Swan, Belle placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up to stand in front of him, her gaze dropping wistfully to his leathers and her lips arranging themselves into a pout.
“Oh, don’t worry, little maid,“ he twittered. “You’ll get the chance to finish what you started.” He abruptly turned her around and stepped forward, obliging her to reach out and brace herself against the bookshelf. “But in the meantime…” She felt his teeth close on the side of her neck as his hands disappeared under her skirt to tug her knickers down. “I think perhaps a more expedient solution is required.”
“Gods yes!” she groaned, shifting to move her legs apart. He reached down, hand slipping between them, and drew a finger through her folds, growling into her ear when he found that she was still dripping wet. “Please, Rumple.” Her throaty plea was all he needed. He was free with a snap of his fingers, his cock sliding into her as he grasped her hips and pulled her back hard against him. “Yes!” she hissed. “Hard, Rumple… fuck me hard.” He slammed into her, needy little yelps escaping her with every thrust, both of them too far gone to last long at all.
“Touch yourself, sweetheart.” He forced it out through clenched teeth, hands still at her hips dragging her back onto him with each push inside her. The first brush of her fingers was enough to leave her screaming his name, her muscles clenching around him, milking his cock while he groaned against the back of her neck.
When he managed to catch his breath he shifted to lean back against the shelves, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her with him so that she was leaning back against his chest, head dropped onto his shoulder. She turned her head to press lazy kisses to the side of his neck.
“Well,” she panted, “that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’s a start.”
Rumplestiltskin breathed a high pitched giggle into the tangle of curls at the crown of her head. “Mouthy little maid,” he grumbled. “Don’t think I’m finished with you, Dearie.”
Belle forced herself to move so that she could turn and wrap her arms around his waist. She pressed herself against him, nuzzling at his throat. “Oh, I’m counting on that,” she assured him. “I’m expecting a very long night.”