Rumplestiltskin lies in the dark and wonders what woke him. He engages a touch of magic, checking the protections on the house by reflex. They are whole and undamaged. So, then what..? Then it comes again, a soft knock at his bedroom door.

"Rumplestiltskin?" Belle whispers. "Are you awake?" He sits up in his massive four poster, and just for a moment considers walking to the door. But he is wearing his usual sleeping attire, which is nothing, so he clears his throat and ensures the blankets cover his lap.

"Yes, Belle," he replies. She steps slowly around the door, and he has to work hard to stay rational. She's wearing a virginal white nightdress that falls to the floor but fails to hide her curves, and her chestnut hair gleams in the light from the hall behind her. His mouth waters. "Is something wrong?"

She shuffles her bare feet and looks down. "I... I... I had a nightmare, and I didn't want to be alone." She finishes in a rush, then looks up to meet his eyes in the dark. "Can I stay in here with you tonight?" She is so innocent, so vulnerable, how can he say no, even when his libido is snarling like a hungry beast.

"Of course," he says soothingly. "But, ah..." For once the eloquence of the silver tongued imp fails him. "Just turn your back for a moment, all right?" He watches her frown, then blush adorably before she turns away to face the hall. Rumplestiltskin leans down and gropes for the boxers he abandoned before he fell asleep, and yanks them on in record time, all the while wondering if she'll peek, and wondering if he'd mind at all. "You can come in now," he tells her as he covers himself again. She turns back, nods, and crosses the plush carpet. He slides across the massive bed and lifts the blankets for her. Belle climbs into his bed, and to save himself from ravishing her right then and there he rolls onto his side, facing away from her.

The noises she makes as she makes herself comfortable are a sweet torment, and when she finally quiets, he speaks. "Goodnight, Belle."

"Goodnight, Rumplestiltskin," she breathes into the dark. Her breathing slows and evens out, but it is a long time before he can fall asleep. She won't give him the specifics of what the Queen did to her whilst she was a captive; he assumes its so he won't break his promise and splatter Regina all over the walls of her house. But Belle, his Belle... is different now. She's still warm and caring and gentle – but she's damaged, too. He can see it in the way she moves, the way she looks around a room before she enters, the way she hugs herself and frowns when she thinks he isn't watching. So he'll chain his lust until she's ready for the bed, until she offers herself to him, to the beast. He smiles, and finally drifts off to sleep.