A/N: So, this winter, I started watching Once Upon A Time. It quickly rose to be one of my favorite fandoms, and, as happens with me and my fandoms, I started to write. This...happened, and because I love my Big very much, I'm not going to keep it to myself. I'm throwing it out into the world. I don't do this sort of thing often, so...be gentle? Thanks in advance, my ducklings.

Disclaimer: I often say about this show that if I deny it hard enough, it never happened. If it were mine, I wouldn't have to deny anything, now would I?


He had her pinned against the wall. It had just sort of happened. One moment they had been holding each other, the next, he had backed her into the wall next to their bed and was kissing her hard. Tightly wedged as she was, she could feel his body pressing into hers in all the right places.

She couldn't help the tiny whimper when his lips left hers, though she knew their absence could only be temporary. Eyes still shut, she just let herself feel as he gently removed her hat and scarf, as his fingers danced across her skin, as his thigh nudged its way between hers and pressed up into her core. Gasping, she forced her eyes to open as his hand cupped her cheek, and she met his gaze, the warm brown of his eyes overflowing with love.

"My darling Belle." He whispered her name like a prayer, awed reverence flowing over the single syllable and making her heart ache with love for him.

He pulled her gently away from the wall, just far enough to push her jacket off her shoulders and pull her shirt over her head. She reached for him then, but he pushed her hands back to her sides.

"Rumple." His name from her lips was a plea, begging to be allowed to touch, and he yearned to give her what she wanted, despite it going against his plans.

He kissed her forehead softly. "Trust me," he whispered. He knelt at her feet and reached for her shoes, the heels that made her impossibly long legs even longer and pushed her height nearly to his. She placed her hands on his shoulders for balance as he removed first one shoe, then the other. Next came her bra, and as he pulled the straps down her arms, he couldn't help leaning down and placing a gentle kiss over her heart.

She tried to hold back her moan, and it came out stifled. He looked sharply up at her. "No," he said. "Don't hold back. Let me hear you."

She groaned at the heat his words sent through her body and the rush of wetness now soaking her knickers. He moved to pull her into him, but stopped himself and reached for her skirt. Undoing the clasp and lowering the zipper, he let the garment fall to the ground. Before she could step out of it, he grasped her tights and knickers at the same time and removed them in one long pull.

With her now standing before him in all her glory, he took a moment to drink her in. She fidgeted, not uncomfortable or self-conscious—not anymore, not with him—just wishing that he would touch her or let her touch him. As if reading her mind, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her.

It was strange and wonderful and a little bit frightening, the sensation of their bodies pressed together, hers fully naked, his completely clothed. He didn't give her time to enjoy it, though. He was moving her again, and this time, he broke the kiss just as the backs of her legs hit their bed. His arms still around her, he laid her down gently on the bed.

Her heart nearly broke at the tenderness he used as he brushed his fingers against her cheek, down her neck, over her breast, across her stomach, before he straightened up and began removing his clothing.

He wasn't fast about it. He didn't rip off his clothes in desperation like she would have done. He was slow and methodical, removing his own clothes the same way he had removed Belle's; first his jacket, then his shirt, followed by his shoes and socks, then undershirt and pants, until he was standing in nothing but his boxer briefs.

She watched his every movement, hardly daring to blink lest she miss something vital. As he reached to remove his last article of clothing, she unconsciously licked her lips, and he smirked at her. Then the boxer briefs were gone and he was gently laying himself on top of her.

She groaned at the feeling of the sharp angles and planes of his wiry frame pressing into her soft curves. He covered her mouth with his, not properly kissing her, but licking and nipping at her lips. She whimpered and bucked her hips into his.

Immediately, he pulled back from her mouth and used his hands to still her hips. "Be still." His voice was quiet, but his tone was commanding.

The strip tease had left her hot and wet and longing for him, but something about the way he was acting made her want to obey him. She nodded, and he gave her a real kiss this time. "Good girl," he whispered.

With that, he began to move. Leaving her mouth, he trailed kisses down her neck until he found her pulse point, where he spent a little time nipping and licking before setting up and ever-increasing suction that was guaranteed to leave a mark for days. Her hands grasped at the bedsheets as she strained not to move.

After a few minutes, he moved on again, this time stopping at her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking, and he used his hand to rub and tease the other. He didn't stop until she was panting for breath, and then it was only to switch sides.

When he finally decided he was done, she was breathless and trembling in her effort to remain motionless, and so wet that she was sure the sheets were ruined. He began moving his mouth across her stomach, sometimes kissing, sometimes trailing his tongue along her skin, in a slow, zigzag pattern, stopping just shy of the place she needed him most.

He settled himself comfortably between her legs, gently running his hands up and down her thighs. She was shaking with her need of him now. He looked up into her beautiful blue eyes, hazy with liquid desire, and almost lost his will to carry through with what he was doing.

"Please, Rumple." The words were whispered, almost broken, and he knew he had her right where he wanted her. She would do anything, promise anything, just to get him to touch her.

"All you had to do was ask." With his murmured words, he bowed his head and spread her gently.

The first touch of his tongue to her clit was electric. Try as she might to restrain herself, she couldn't help her hips jumping as that first, long-anticipated stroke jolted through her. He smirked, pleased that he could make her react like that.

He kept her hips pinned as his tongue danced across the tight bundle of nerves. His touch remained light and irregular, keeping her alight with sensation, but pushing her nowhere near the edge. He could feel her stomach expanding and contracting as she sobbed for breath, and knew she was trying to regain her equilibrium. Just as she began to settle, he changed tactic and pushed his tongue inside her.

She groaned loudly as the strong muscle swept into her body, pushing and probing, gently and briefly, before he withdrew again. She whined her disapproval as he abandoned her, but moaned his name as he thrust two fingers inside her and returned his mouth to her clit.

He finally settled into an even, regular pattern of stroking and pressing, curling his fingers at the top of each thrust, finding the place that made her cry out with pleasure every time he hit it. Giving in to her breathless begging, he sped up his motions, feeling her body growing continuously tenser underneath him, until, very suddenly, her back bowed upward and she screamed his name as her internal muscles clamped down tightly around his fingers, over and over, and her body trembled with the force of her pleasure.

He nursed her gently through her orgasm until her muscles ceased their quivering and she collapsed, boneless, back onto the bed. Pulling back from her, he wiped the evidence of what he'd done from his face and licked his fingers clean. He wasn't doing it for her benefit; she was still too far gone to notice. He just could never get enough of her in any form.

That done, he settled himself next to her to await her recovery.

The first thing she registered when she came back to herself was the warm weight against her side. She smiled as she took stock of things; he had tucked her head under his chin, draped his arm across her ribcage, and was holding her so close that she could feel the movement of his every breath. She could also feel his hard length pressing against her thigh, and it warmed her heart. He was desperate to have her; he had to be, but he still waited patiently for her to be ready for him.

Not one to let such gentlemanly behavior to go unrewarded, she reached out and took him in her hand, stroking him firmly and slowly. He gasped harshly at her first touch, and then groaned, pushing into her hand. She was a little surprised that he was letting her do this, given how controlling he had been all night, but she wasn't going to complain.

As if reading her thoughts, he reached down and grabbed her hand, stilling its movement, and then placing it gently by her side. Silently, he reasserted his control over the situation, and she let him. She knew that if he did something she wasn't comfortable with, all she had to do was let him know, and that would be the end of it. However, he generally only took total control for a particular reason, and, without exception, it had always led to her being completely pleased with the results.

He shifted slightly, so he could easily murmur into her ear. "Are you ready, Belle?"

She shivered at the sin in his voice. "I'm always ready for you."

Smiling, he rose above her and pushed into her in one long, slow thrust. She gasped and groaned as he filled her; she was still a little swollen and tender, and he was by no means a small man. When he was fully seared within her, he dropped his head to the crook of her neck, she placed her hands just beneath his shoulder blades, and they just lay there for a moment, intimately in each other's presence. And then he began to move.

She whimpered and moaned in pleasure as he moved within her, his thrusts long and powerful. He breathlessly murmured her name over and over, and she felt more than heard his voice as it vibrated along her skin.

As his motions sped up, she could feel the coil of warmth and tension building once more in the pit of her stomach. His name fell from her lips in a breathless sigh, and, unable to resist the urge, he covered her mouth with his, kissing her long and hard.

His fingers found her clit, and he began rubbing and stroking it vigorously. She broke away from his lips, gasping, and he moved back to the place where her neck and shoulder met and began feasting on her skin, nipping and sucking and licking.

For a while, there was no sound in the room but that of skin meeting skin and her gentle gasps whenever he did something particularly wicked with his mouth. Then he shifted the angle and was hitting inside her just right and the tension in her belly was pushed to the breaking point and she screamed his name as every muscle in her body once more tightened and clenched and shook.

Even as she rode out her second orgasm, he picked up the pace and power of his thrusts. She could see in his expression, could feel in the tremble of his limbs, how close he was, so she removed one of her hands from his back and used it to cup his face. In a heartbreakingly gentle voice, she said, "Come for me, Rumple," and, because he couldn't deny her anything, with one final, deep thrust, he spilled everything he had inside of her.

As every last bit of tension left his body, he collapsed on top of her. She relished the delicious pressure of his body boneless atop her, and stroked her hands up and down his back as his breath slowly evened out. When he was mostly recovered, he rolled them over, his shaft slipping out of her as he did so.

He reached down and pulled the blankets up over them, then wrapped his arms around her tightly. She settled with her ear resting over his heart, one of her hands lying gently on his chest. She felt his chest rumble as he spoke, and couldn't help smiling as she replied.

"I love you, Belle."

"I love you, too, Rumplestiltskin."