A/N: In Chapter 3 of And It All Came Tumbling Down (story ID: 7916151), Gold spends some time on some heavy duty pain meds after saving the woman he loves. Unable to fully control his drug soaked mind, he is swarmed by memories and fantasies. Yes, those type of fantasies. The kind we all like to indulge in in the middle of the night. Or in the shower. Or where ever.
As it was, and is, my intention to keep Tumbling Down a T rated story, I knew I would have to cut the Adult's Only stuff and post it somewhere else for those that might like it. But when I realized I had more fantasy than anything else written for the chapter, I figure that posting the chapter with the fantasies on another sight mightn't be sufficient.
So, after some though, I decided to expand each fantasy into its own little story and post them together here under an M rating.
Some notes before we get started:
(1) These are sexual fantasies. Note the M rating. This is for a reason. Seriously, this is going to be mostly smut.
As I see it, Rumpelstiltskin/Gold is a healthy adult male. And I don't see him, in either world, picking up chicks at the bar on the weekend. Something would have to be done to release the…tension.
(2) The stories are not in any particular/chronological order. They are posted in the order I came up with them. Each of the memories is rather innocuous and, at this point, could easily be rearranged. Remember, the fantasies attached to the Enchanted Forest memories could just as easily been made up during Gold's time in Storybrooke.
(3) Unless otherwise noted, the memories/fantasies assume nothing beyond the canon in Skin Deep. All memories are of times off screen (or on, if I really feel the need to go there), and the fantasies are all in his head.
And many thanks to ShadowSongAFF and Maddsgirl75 for Betaing for me. Trust me, they both made a world of differences.
Anyway, enough of me babbling, on to the stories!
Belle was humming to herself again, swaying and dusting, alone in her own little world. Rumpelstiltskin watched from the shadows, frowning. His eyes kept returning to her hips. Watching her move made shivers of energy flow through him. It was…different than anything he had ever felt. The Dark Magic played around it; sparking and wanting to make mischief.
As she approached his hiding space, the energy grew, overgrowing his skin. It was too much for him to hold inside. With a flick of his fingers a foot stool shifted away from the wall and into her path. Her lips made a little O of surprise as she tripped and began to fall.
He was beside her in a flash. His hands came to rest on her waist. Her hands landed on his chest, her hair brushing his lips and neck. She swayed closer to him as she looked up into his face. The feeling of her warmth made sparks explode over his skin, up his arms and into his chest.
She shifted again and he watched a look of pain flash across her face. He stepped back immediately, taking away the pain of his touch, self-loathing thick on his tongue. She hopped on one foot and he realized that his prank had hurt her. His hands were instantly drawn to her elbows, guiding her to the chair. He knelt and took the ankle she was favoring between his fingers. He gently probed the delicate joint, his eyes on hers. She returned his gaze with confidence and trust, biting her lower lip when his exploration brought her pain.
Rumpelstiltskin knew the Dark Magic. Intimately. He knew it came with a price. Always. Even so, he pulled the Dark from the Magic, and let the gold energy flow from his fingers to her wound. The relief on her face is instant.
The Dark of the magic he'd spared her from burned its way down his throat and constricted his heart till he let it go. Far above them, the potion he had been working on for a month exploded. Its irreplaceable components instantly destroyed.
Her smile was worth the price…
…He leans forward to brush his lips across the exposed skin of her ankle, his eyes still on hers. Belle's breath comes out in a little gasp, her eyes drifting half closed.
He shifts to hold one delicate ankle in each hand and slips off each shoe, letting them fall to the floor. She whimpers as his fingers begin to slide further up her calves. With gentle pressure he shifts her legs apart until there's room for him to move between them. Belle doesn't resist him, shifting in the seat easily, her upper body relaxing into the back of the seat. He ends up kneeling at the edge of the chair, leaning his upper body closer to her, cocking his head to one side.
When his fingers find the soft skin at the back of her knee she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. He continues his advance, bringing his face to hers. He rubs his nose against her cheek and she nuzzles him back, turning her face to his. He holds her eyes with his as he brushes his lips across hers. When he runs his tongue along her bottom lip where it is held between her teeth, she moans, releasing the delicate flesh so he can pull it between his own. His light nibbles generate a shudder in her that runs the length of her body and passes to his where they touch.
He pulls away just far enough to find her eyes, and another shudder passes through them. With a deliberate brush of his thumbs against her skin, he flicks her skirts over her knees. Belle whimpers, but there is no fear in eyes, no hesitation in her body as she sways into him. Her hands find his neck, her fingers twining in his hair. Gently but surely she tugs his mouth back to hers. The desire in her heavy lidded eyes flares through him, bringing his lips down more strongly than he intended. The way she bows into the kiss, into him, only feeds his hunger for her.
His hands continued up her legs, skimming over the delicate skin of the outside of her thighs. When his tongue slips passed her lips, she sighs, giving him fill access to her mouth. He groans as his tongue sweeps though her mouth, possessing it as he longs to possess her. His erection presses hard against the inside of his leather pants, straining towards her. When his hands reach her cotton covered derriere, he pulls her hips forward until the heat of her is pressed against his throbbing length. Even through the leather he can feel her. And it makes him shutter.
His tongue retreats from her mouth as he fights to regain some control of his raging body. He feels her smile against his lips as she follows his receding tongue with her own. A groan accompanies his shutter, and it is only Belle's mouth, Belle's hands, and Belle's body that keeps him from collapsing to the floor in a pool of lust. Or floating away on a cloud of bliss. He wraps his arms around her to hold himself up, or anchor himself down, shifting one hand to the small of her back and bring the other up to press his arm against her spine, his hand cupping the back of her head.
Unable to contain himself as her kiss grows ever bolder, he pulls his lips from hers to press his face to the side of her neck. His fight to control his breath and his body becomes infinitely harder when she lifts her legs and wraps them around his waist.
"Belle," he whispers against her skin, his teeth nipping gently at the delicate flesh at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Her throaty groan and languid arch into his body doesn't help him calm his blood. He can't help his own moan, "Please."
"What do you want of me?" she asks, her breathy whisper pulling at both his heart and his lust.
He pulls back from her, catching her eyes and waiting for the haze of lust to clear a little before he answers. "Everything."
He watches her face, looking for disgust, or dark victory, but finds only maidenly indecision and her own growing desire. He feels her take a shaky breath as her hand slides from his neck to press against his chest, above his heart, "You have it."
The words crash through him, forcing his eyes closed. His head falls back on his shoulders as he sways closer to her, pressing his body to hers, as if to prove to himself that she is still in his arms. He has never felt anything as powerful as this moment. He longs to savor it, to taste it, to hold it. To capture it and put it on the shelves with all of his other prize possessions. It would out shine them all.
But Belle's lips brush against the column of his throat, and all thoughts of anything but this moment are shattered. His lips find hers in a demanding kiss. She has sealed her fate; there is no turning back now. But judging by the feel of her hand knotted in his hair, she no more wants to turn back than he does.
The hand at the small of her back plays along the upper band of her undergarments as it makes its way around to her belly. He plays a moment with her navel, dipping his finger in and out to the rhythm of his probing tongue. Her hand pressed against his chest clenches in the silk of his shirt.
He smiles into the kiss before sliding his lips across her jaw and down her neck. Belle bows for him, leaning back and giving him access to her. Her soft moans, no longer muffled by his kiss, fill the room.
The hand on her belly quests higher, pushing her dress up, exposing more of her lower body to the air of the room. He pulls back to stare down at her, taking in the view of her lower body glowing in the candle light. He needs more.
His hand spans her ribs, and he hopes she can't feel how badly he is trembling. With his other hand he pulls at the laces that hold the top of her dress closed. With a shy smile, she brushes his hand away and deftly undoes the mess he has made of them before pulling them free of their eyelets.
His eyes half lidded, he watches her, his free hand joining the other to press into her warm side. He can feel her tremble as she shifts to free her shirt from beneath her. With a practiced movement she pulls the dress over her head, leaving her bare except for the white cotton that covered her from waist to upper thigh.
He only catches a glimpse of her bare breasts before she covers them with her arms. His eyes searches her face, looking to catch her eyes, but she keeps her chin down. Her cheeks are flaming, embarrassment clear on her pretty features. He has never thought her more beautiful.
Leaning forward, he nuzzles her until he can brush a kiss across her lips. She leans towards him, her hands still crossed across her chest.
He pulls away but she still refuses to meet his eyes. But she remains as she is, nearly naked with her legs wrapped around his waist. She is so beautiful to him. It was all he can do to keep his hands on her ribs and not move them up to cup her breasts under her arms. But he can't force her. Not now, not when they have come so far.
He brushes his lips across her cheek and whispers in her ear, "Lower your arms for me, my beauty. Let me look at you."
She lets out a little whimper, a shudder passing through her from where his lips continued to press against her skin. It runs up his arms, to clench at his heart. Rubbing his thumbs against the sensitive skin a mere inch below her breast, he waits. But his need for her forces a plea from his lips, "Please."
"I would, but…" she says, turning her head to look up though her eyelashes at him. Her hesitation cuts at him. He braces himself for her rejection, her scorn, her gloating condescension that she manipulated the mighty beast enough to bring him to his knees and beg, only to leave him hard and longing. "You're still fully dressed. It hardly seems fair."
It takes him a moment to comprehend her words, and then he feels a foolish smile spread across his face. "No, I suppose it's not. But life isn't fair, my dear."
She pouts a little, but her eyes sparkle up at him. His smile grows. He has seen her play this game before. Before he can decide on his next move, she leans forward and brushes the soft tops of her breast against his shirt. All thought leaves his body along with his breath in a sharp, shuddering sigh.
His hands leave her sides just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside. When his hands return to her waist, he feels her shift, her knees brushing against his naked flanks. Her skin is so warm against his that it sends another shudder of delight through him. She reaches one hand out to run it from his neck to his navel.
"Please," he whispers again, the plea dragged from his lips on a ragged sigh. But he doesn't know if he's begging for her to keep touching him or drop her other arm so that he can feast on the sight of her breasts. Or both. Oh, yes, both.
She plays the back of her fingers up his chest, pulling a ragged sigh from him. The light touch so hot against his skin. When her hand reaches his neck, she cups his jaw and gently pulls him down toward her. As their lips meet, she presses her body to his, both arms going around his neck.
As much as he longs to see her beauty, this is so much better. Of their own accord, his arms wrap around her, holding her closer to him. She fits so well, too well against him. The piece he didn't want to admit was missing.
Instinct he can no longer deny demands that he rock his hips against hers. Her shocked, sharp sound of pleasure makes him do it again. And again. And again.
When he pulls back to stare down at her flushed face, her ohs and sighs fill the room with each thrust of his hips.
"That's right, my dear," he whispers. "Ride it. Ride me."
She moves against him, slowly at first, just a little. But soon she's rolling her body against him, working her sex against him through the cotton and leather while rubbing her breasts against his chest. It takes all of his control and a little magic to keep himself from finding his pleasure before she finds hers.
He watches as her head falls back and her body quivers. Her moans are loud and incoherent...and the most wonderful thing he's ever heard. He forces his body to slow and then still and holds her as she comes apart in his arms, then slowly pulls herself together again.
"That was…" she says, her voice thick and shaky, "That was…"
He smiles and ghosts a kiss across her lips before licking and nipping at her neck. He knows what he wants next, what he needs next, but doesn't know how to go about it without scaring her. So when he feels her fingers on the fastening of his pants the pleasure that sweeps through him is almost his undoing.
"You're still wearing too much," she mutters as she works to release him.
"So are you." He replies, his face still buried in her neck. He doubts he would survive looking at her right now.
He pulls back from her enough not only to give her access to his pants, but also so he can run one finger along the seam of her sex through the cotton. He finds it wet, soaked through with her desire. The feel of it pushes him over the edge. Careful not to catch her skin or soft hair with his sharp fingernail, he wraps his finger from the inside of one leg seam to the other. With a quick tug, he rips the fabric apart, removing the barrier to her sex.
He barely notices her fingers hesitate in their work as his own finger quests and finds her slick opening. He moans and she shivers as his finger slides deep into her. It is quickly followed by a second and a third, as he works to ease her open. He knows as soon as he is in her, he won't have any control left.
She's quivering in his arms again, her hands resting on his chest, when he pulls his fingers from her to finish undoing his pants. He can't hold back a sigh as he is released from the confines of the leather.
"Belle," he whispers, forcing himself to pull back and look into her face, "Oh, Belle, tell me to stop and I will."
Her eyes flutter open, confusion clear on her face, "Why…why would I want you to stop?"
"Because," his answers, brushing his lips over hers, "I'm a beas-"
The rest of the word is stolen from him as she uses her legs to pull him back to her. He slides along the seam of her sex, not entering her, but sliding along her damp heat.
"Take me, Rumpelstiltskin," she says, licking at his lips and winding her arms around his neck, "Make me yours."
Unable to resist her, he shifts his hands to cup her bottom, slipping under what is left of her undergarments. He slides into her, slow and steady, only pausing when he feels the barrier of her maidenhead. He forces himself to remain still, every muscle in his body tense, until she gives him a hesitant nod. He shifts out a little before moving a little farther in. Only to pause again and wait for her to adjust. Over and over he moves against her, with more control than he ever thought he had, until he was seated fully in her.
He can feel his whole body tremble as he holds himself there for a long movement, wondering in the sensation of being in her. Being whole for the first time.
She shifts, rubbing herself against him again, and all control he had vanishes. He takes her with long, hard thrusts, glorying in the noise of passion it pulls for her. They mingle with his, filling the air between them. The feeling of her nails in his scalp drives him on. It is her release that brings his pleasure in wave of heat that scours his soul. The feeling of her body convulsing around him sends him flying apart. He screams her name until he cannot breathe.
When he finally comes back to himself again, he is leaning into her, pressing her into the seat. She is playing with his hair, murmuring contented sounds. He is too sated, too content, to be embarrassed over the fact that he took her from his knees, on a chair, in his study instead of properly on a bed.
Slowly, he realizes that he'll never be able to effectively study in this room again. At least not with this chair here. No, he thinks with a manic giggle, this chair would have to go.
Besides, he's wanted a chair in his room for a while anyway. And this one is perfect.