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He was not sure exactly what it was that he’d been expecting when he set out to rescue her. In truth, he hadn’t been sure he wanted to risk so much for a woman he didn’t even really like. She was beautiful, yes, and for that alone quite a prize. But she was also extremely odd - bookish and obstinate. The woman had actually thought to consider herself his equal, which was bad enough. Though her primary shortcoming had been her stubborn refusal to swoon over his many chivalrous accomplishments. Aside from the blow to his pride, he had honestly not felt much disappointment when the Dark One had taken her in payment for his service to her father. He had long decided that Belle might prove to be more trouble than her beauty was worth. But she was to have been his, and his honor demanded that he act.
On his journey to the Dark Castle, Gaston imagined any number of challenges, each more daunting than the last. For all that he had let his limited imagination run away from him on this quest to save his headstrong damsel, the particular scene he found himself confronted with had not occurred to him. Indeed, he found himself at quite a loss as to how it might have occurred to anyone.
When Gaston reached the fiend’s castle, he had breached the front gate easily enough and even stormed through the front doors without challenge. Then he began to think that this was too easy, and had stood looking about the entry hall warily, trying to ferret out whatever trap the demon might have laid for intruders. Had he not paused to get his bearings before charging up the stone staircase, he would not have heard the low moans coming from behind a set of double doors to his right.
Torture? Perhaps that was why he had yet to encounter his lady’s tormentor.
He drew his sword and pushed open the heavy doors, but stopped dead in his tracks before he could advance more than one or two steps into the room. He found himself looking into a great hall with tall arched windows. The late morning sun fell across a line of pedestals that extended the length of the room along each wall and held all manner of curiosities. There was a spinning wheel prominent in a corner, but the hall was dominated by a large polished wooden table at it’s center. The imposing table would have drawn his attention itself even without the shameless display on top of it, but as it was he found he could take in little else save the atrocity before him.
The woman who was to have been his bride was perched on the edge of the polished wooden surface without a stitch of clothing. Her legs were parted, the demon who had stolen her standing between them as bare as the girl. Milky thighs were wrapped around green-gold flanks and the fiend’s hands were at her hips, holding her in place as he rocked against her. Her arms draped over his shoulders, hands tangled in the unruly waves of the creature’s hair. They stared at one another, all heaving breaths and urgent moans.
It took the knight a moment to register exactly what he was watching, and when he did, two thoughts tumbled into his mind… She must be under a powerful spell indeed to seem so wiling to submit to the beast. And magic or no, she was tainted. He would do his best to return the girl to her home, for no one deserved such a fate as this, but he would not honor their engagement now that the imp had bedded her. It was one thing to accept her hand when she was an odd little thing that would need to learn her place, but now she was the Dark One’s whore as well. No one could expect him to lie in such filth, regardless of her beauty.
Gaston steeled himself and moved to approach them, sword at the ready.
“I am Sir Gaston, and I command you to…”
Before he could utter another word, he was thrown against the far wall with enough force to take the breath from his lungs, his heavy sword clattering to the floor. Manacles appeared in the stone work, snaking around his wrists and ankles before clicking solidly into place.
The imp spoke without taking his eyes or hands off the girl before him.
“Manners, Dearie! Can’t have you interrupting before we get to the best part, now can we?”
Gaston drew a breath to demand his release, but realized that the fiend had taken his voice.
Belle spared a brief glance at the wall, but her attention was quickly reclaimed when the demon rocked into her again with a hard thrust. She gave a little yelp of pleasure, and her eyes locked onto the creature’s once more. Those eyes looked dark as a storm, their usual bright shade clouded with… could it truly be passion?
The tip of the Dark One’s nose traced along the side of hers and across the curve of her lips as he spoke to her in a whisper.
“I intended to take my time with you, Love, but given our present circumstances that might be a bit…” and here he wrinkled his nose “… unseemly.” He giggled at this and nuzzled along her jaw, murmuring into the chestnut curls that fell along the line of her neck. “Next time.”
And then his eyes were on hers once again and his hips thrust towards her with more urgency.
“Or would you like me to stop?”
The brazen thing shook her head and groaned, forcing out two words in a low and needy growl that - God’s forgive him - went straight to his groin in spite of his disgust.
“So close.”
At that, the demon produced a throaty chuckle that Gaston was certain he would hear in his nightmares forever and slammed into her, claws digging into her pale flesh as he drug her hips forward to meet him. He pushed into her fast and hard, holding his face to hers. Noses brushing. Lips just shy of touching, so close he looked to be breathing in her soft cries.
Several hard thrusts and her head fell back, her body arching forward into him. The creature wasted no time in bringing his mouth to her throat, nipping at the tender flesh and marking her as his before running his tongue over the bruise and along the length of her neck. He licked a trail through the sweat glistening along her collar bone before his teeth closed on her shoulder. She cried out suddenly, a sharp guttural sound, and clung to him as her entire body shuddered. The knight wondered guiltily if he might ever have seen her tremble so in their marriage bed, but shook away the thought before it could take hold of him. The demon managed a few more harsh thrusts before bucking into her and growling into her shoulder. And then it was done.
With a flick of his wrist, Rumplestiltskin was clothed in fitted leather breeches and a silk shirt open to the waist. Another twitch of a finger and Belle was draped in a similar shirt of golden silk that covered her to mid-thigh but opened enough at the throat to display the flushed skin just above her breasts. She seemed to register her state of dress and - well past blushing - simply rolled her eyes at him. He giggled and stepped back, lowering himself into the chair situated at the head of the table. Grinning crookedly and raising his eyebrows, he offered her his hand. She took it and slipped off the table onto still shaking legs, allowing him to pull her down to sit across his lap and drape an arm casually across her knees.
“It seems we have a bit of a problem, Dearie.” She regarded him with interest, but did not speak. “What to do with your little lap dog?” he wondered in a lilting tone. The creature wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I really can’t allow any pets in the castle.”
To Gaston’s surprise, the little harlot actually laughed and then turned her head to regard him. Had she no modesty left to her at all?
“Can’t we just send him back? It was a nice gesture.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” the demon pouted, a claw absently tracing circles along her exposed thigh.
“I thought you’d had your fun for the afternoon.” Belle teased.
By all the Gods! The world must have turned mad with this brazen girl teasing a pouting demon before his eyes.
The creature spoke. “Oh no, Dearie.” His voice dropped in pitch once again and his hand disappeared up under the silk draped carelessly along Belle’s leg only to claw back down from hip to bare thigh. “I’m just getting started.”
To anyone else, this would be a threat. But to the woman on his lap it was obviously a filthy promise. Gaston saw the golden silk flutter with the shiver that ran along her spine and watched the shameless vixen shift herself on the imp’s lap just enough to elicit a low groan of approval.
This was most certainly not the demure and maidenly young woman who had been betrothed to him. The demon had corrupted her, turned her into a wanton. He began to doubt that magic was involved at all in her submission to the beast’s perversions. She seemed to have her wits about her well enough. Gaston fumbled about for some explanation of this unlikely turn. Perhaps she was driven mad. How else to explain her behavior? After all, what sane woman would choose this demon over him?
The fiend was staring at him with cold appraisal from dark, reptilian eyes.
“I don’t suppose we have to decide the lad’s fate right this minute,” he decided. “We could always keep him in the dungeon for a bit… a little vacation from all that tedious chivalry.”
Once again, the knight made to speak, to protest this disrespect, but he found that he still had no voice available to him.
Belle rolled her eyes again, absently combing her fingers through the hair at the back of the creature’s neck.
“I thought you had rules against pets,” she reminded him archly.
Rumplestiltskin heaved a dramatic sigh.
“So I did.” His eyes turned serious as he looked at her. “You understand, if I let him go he’ll carry tales of your… corruption to your father and your village.”
“And you understand that there wasn’t a man in that war room convinced that all you wanted was a caretaker for your rather large…” she cleared her throat and arched an eyebrow “… estate.”
This startled the imp into a disturbing high-pitched giggle. He stood abruptly, lifting Belle in his arms as he went and depositing her on her feet before him as his mirth subsided.
“Tell me what you wish, My Lady, and it shall be done.”
“Escort him outside the castle walls and give him leave to go.”
The demon snapped his fingers and the shackles disappeared. A wave of his hand, and the knight found himself standing with the fiend just outside the castle walls.
“Run along, Dearie.” His tone was light, but it carried an unmistakable undercurrent of menace.
Gaston drew himself to his full height and did his best to seem imposing. When he made to speak, he found that his voice had been returned to him.
“You haven’t heard the end of this, Demon. When her father hears what’s become of her, we will return with holy men to purify her soul and cleanse your evil from her flesh.”
The darkness that flooded the creature’s gaze at this declaration sent him reeling back a step.
“I think not,” the demon spat.
And with a snap of his fingers, Sir Gaston found himself enveloped in a cloud of foul purple smoke.
Rumplestiltskin bent to pick up the single perfect rose that now lay where the knight had stood - nothing that couldn’t be undone later if Belle became upset - and returned to the castle.
He found Belle once again perched upon the table in the great hall.
“What did you do to him?” she asked.
“Just what you asked, Dearie.” His eyes were wide and innocent as they could ever manage to be.
“Hmmmm.” She eyed him suspiciously. “You didn’t turn him into a dog?”
“No. I did not.”
“No snails?”
He placed a hand over his heart and moved toward her. “I give you my word.”
“And what are you holding behind your back? A tiny knight encased in amber, perhaps?”
“Nothing of the kind,” he assured her, drawing the rose from behind him and presenting it to her with a flourish. “Merely a token of affection, if you’ll have it.”
Belle smiled, plucked the rose from his hand. “Why, thank you.” She brought it to her nose to inhale the scent and then leaned forward to place a kiss upon his cheek. He noticed that she had loosened his shirt just enough to offer a better view of her breasts, and reached out to spread the collar a little wider as she absently twirled the flower’s stem in her fingers.
“I didn’t think you’d let me get away with this,” he muttered, fingering the silk.
“Mmmmm… well, at that point, I reckoned any attempt to affect modesty would just be silly.” She laid the rose aside and brought her hands to rest on his shoulders. “And besides, you were making a point.”
His hands went to her waist. “Was I?”
“Yes, you were.” She smiled and stroked a thumb along his jawline.
“You surprised me, Belle.”
“I surprised myself,” she admitted, lowering her gaze and nibbling at her lower lip before bringing her eyes back up to his. “You know, I have been enslaved to the Dark One after all. Perhaps I just can’t help but pick up a few bad habits.”
He pulled her closer, sliding her forward over the polished wood and leering suggestively. “I certainly hope so, Dearie.”