Chapter Text
Rumplestiltskin relaxed in the spring, letting the chill of the water sink into his skin.
He couldn't get the image of Belle out of his mind.
He was a self-aware man, he knew, and he could at least admit to an attraction to her. Maybe that was one of the reasons he'd chosen her in the first place -- he thought, with a slight scoff, that he'd always had a penchant for pale, pouty brunettes. Milah, Cora...and now the help.
But wasn't it human, when he was so alone, to want someone to look at?
He wouldn't touch her, but perhaps he could still drive her from his thoughts.
He took hold of himself, uneasily casting his mind about for a suitable fantasy -- nothing tender, nothing romantic.
He had better control of his darkness now, after so many years, but he let himself think of something crueler as he tried to stroke his body to attention. It wouldn't do to think of something soft.
An image came of him of Belle, pinned beneath him on the dungeon floor, crying and pleading for him to stop as he had his fill of her, scratching his nails and teeth hard across her pretty flesh and gazing with satisfaction at the streaks of blood on his cock every time he pulled out of her. Him brutally thrusting back inside her, breathing hard, knowing he could do anything to her, could breed her if he wanted to...
Unfortunately, these thoughts left him still uneasy, and his manhood was not satisfied, only stirring slightly at the thought of him impregnating his beautiful maid.
This troubled him -- both at his lack of interest in cruelty and his evident interest in...what, siring a child with Belle?
He shook his head. This was no matter, could even be expected. He'd never been a man interested in forcing himself on a woman, and even his darkness couldn't corrupt him that far. All he had to do, then, was revise his fantasy so that Belle was a willing participant.
But there would certainly be no feelings.
No, none of that.
Just he and Belle, tangled in her bed, him fucking her efficiently and thoroughly as she ran her nails up and down his back, squeezing tight around him with need and cooing yes, Rumple, more as he reached between them to rub her clit.
At this, his cock began to harden in earnest, and he smiled smugly. He'd been right -- there was no need for romance or emotion.
He tried to forget the fact that Belle had only called him Rumple a couple of times, a light tease coupled with a shy smile and an inexplicable warmth in his stomach.
He edged away from the memory, stroking himself slowly as he built on his chosen fantasy.
He would be slow about it -- not out of kindness, but knowing that it would be more pleasurable for her if she was aroused. So he would touch her, letting her heat and slickness heighten around his fingers, and maybe even use his mouth for good measure.
Only as a gift for him, of course. If she enjoyed their coupling, she'd be more likely to let it happen again in the future.
After she was sufficiently wet and needy, he'd slowly slide into her, taking her maidenhead as quickly as possible and dulling any of her pain with a helping hand between her legs. Once she'd adjusted to him, her murmurs of discomfort deepening into gasps of want, he'd move within her in earnest, hard and fast, helping her toward her climax as his own wove toward him.
He stroked harder, feeling himself beginning to approach his cliff, and let scenario play out.
He would begin to move away, attempt to pull out of her, but she...she would shake her head, begging him to come inside her, spill himself inside her sore, satisfied cunt, into her unprotected womb that waited for him, only ever him, and his...his climax would blaze up his spine as he drove himself as deep as possible, hoping his seed would find purchase inside her...
He came, hard, the heat of his finish peaking in the cold around him, and all he could think of in several gasps of blind pleasure was Belle, snuggled against him, calling him Rumple, his hand on the swell of her stomach as he read to her, feeling more content than he ever had in his life...
He came back to himself, shivering against the aftershocks and slumping against the stone wall of the spring.
This was not good.
Resolved to put it out of his mind, he snapped his fingers, instantly transporting himself to the water's edge, dry and dressed.
He could get over this, would get over this. It was mere lust mixed with the loss of a child, the desperate way he still wished Bae were here, the desire for something to soothe his grief and give him a second chance at fatherhood.
Because there was no way he actually wanted to have a child with Belle, the stubborn, bookish, infuriating maid he'd had for all of two weeks. Things like that simply weren't real, simply didn't and wouldn't happen.
There was no way he held any feelings for her deeper than simple want and grudging tolerance. Yes, that was it.
He started up the stairs, foregoing poofing in the hopes that the physical grounding of his steps would help fully clear his mind.
Are you all right? The Castle's words made him groan internally. He really didn't need this right now. You don't usually walk around like this. The Castle paused. Or stomp, I should say.
I'm fine, Rumplestiltskin snapped back. Just a little out of sorts.
Are you upset because Belle saw you in the bath?
He froze. Belle had seen him? Had seen him...pleasuring himself?
I didn't know she had, he said softly.
It was an accident, the Castle said. I thought you were gone and she could use...
But its words were drowned out by his own panicked thoughts.
Had Belle seen him? Heard him? He couldn't remember if he'd said her name.
Had she realized he was thinking of her? Recoiled in disgust? In amusement, that a man like him would ever think to have a chance with her?
A scared, sour feeling settled in his gut. It reminded him of the weak, sad man he'd been long ago, and he hated it.
Hated himself.
He reached the kitchen, where Belle -- also looking freshly bathed -- was just starting to gather the ingredients for their supper. She greeted him, calm and neutral, but didn't look him in the eye.
Of course she wouldn't. Surely she thought less of him now -- a pathetic, ugly thing.
He cleared his throat, and his next words came out thoughtlessly.
"Had a nice, long day of work, Belle? Cooking, cleaning, watching me bathe?"
It was her turn to freeze, and the sour feeling in his stomach twisted into a mean sort of satisfaction.
"I didn't mean to..."
It was me, said the Castle. I didn't know you were there, and I told her she could bathe in the spring.
Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "I'm not sure why you're defending her. After all, you may have led her down there, but you didn't make her stand and watch."
Belle looked stricken. "I'm so sorry, I was surprised--"
"Ah, yes, surprised by the monster? His ugliness? Catching him in a private moment of, what, loneliness? I don't need your disgust or your pity."
Belle's face softened in confusion. "I don't understand...loneliness? I only saw you bathing, and then I left."
He scoffed, pleased to feel the darkness settling over him, protecting him like it always did.
"Oh, right, I've forgotten that you're only a maid in more ways than one. Probably a bit of a shock to see a man satisfying himself so, hmm? Probably could barely conceive of it. You wouldn't know what that feels like -- surely you've only ever kept your hands safely at your sides so your cunt could stay nice and tight for your handsome husband." He giggled shrilly, knowing how she disliked it. "Bit of a waste now, I'd say, seeing as how you're stuck with me forever."
Belle flushed, her face red with anger, embarrassment, and something he couldn't identify. "I told you, I saw you bathing and I only watched you bathe for a minute. Nothing else." She paused, as if trying to gather her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I am. I was just curious--"
She's right, supplied the Castle. Leave her alone.
And it was this that pushed him over the edge.
"Leave her alone? Leave her alone?" he cried. "I've given her everything she could need, and a few things she could only want. All I ask in return is a little privacy, a little respect, and my own home turns against me. Stay out of this."
He turned to Belle, his anger and humiliation pulsing through him not unlike his earlier desire.
"As for you, my dear, I'd take care to keep your nose and your curiosity where they belong." He sneered. "Though I suppose you've always been that way, always been a bit odd. Maybe that's why nobody wanted you, nobody cared that you left -- other than your father and, of course, that brainless fiancee of yours. And once he'd had his own curiosity satisfied a few times, he'd probably have shunned and ignored you just like everyone else."
Belle shook her head defiantly, shaking, but he could see tears gathering behind her eyes. Something inside him told him to stop, but he pushed it away and smiled nastily.
"I guess you could say that, maybe, I did you a favor. Despite all those books you read and your talk of making your own fate, maybe playing maid to a monster was the best someone like you was ever going to get."
He stepped back, trying to catch his breath.
"Now then, what have you planned for dinner?"
Belle stared at him for a long moment, and a couple of tears spilled over her lashes. The humiliation in him bloomed into something nearer to shame as he watched them trace down her cheek, watched her still herself and take a breath.
"You can make your own dinner," she whispered. "The Castle is right. Leave me alone."
Then she turned, almost running in her haste to leave, and he could hear a choked sob escape her as she disappeared into the hall.
He stood, unsure of what to do, and turned toward the nearest wall to get the Castle's attention.
Well, I don't know what she expects from--
I don't want to speak to you right now, said the Castle, and Rumplestiltskin could feel its disapproval emanating from every corner of the room. You were far too harsh with her. Too cruel. You need to make amends.
"Well," he said aloud, trying for sarcasm, but his voice seemed so much smaller than usual. "How do you suppose I fix it, then?"
You'll have to figure that out yourself.
And the Castle fell silent, leaving Rumplestiltskin with his empty darkness, his growing shame, and the smallest spark of regret.