Gods - I must be insane to start another story while in the middle of working on Sensitivity over on the SGU side - BUT! Here we are, staring at a smutty Rumbelle suspense thriller, that will later completely and utterly deviate from the second part of season 4 (wtf, just wtf, man?) - Eventually shifting to Spinner!Belle (I know there's a title for this, but for the life of me I cannot remember it) in future chapters. Since this story deals with incubui and succubui, be prepared for smut, smut and more smut. This one will be slower in updates as well - but I promise to make the chapters longer than Sensitivity. Please enjoy and leave me a review if you feel so inclined!

I do not own OUaT - #Rumbelle doesn't break that easily, damnit.

Chapter 1 - Through the Night

Lightning flashed in the moonless sky followed by the deafening crack of thunder, making the horse of the black cloaked figure, riding silently down the middle of the Troll Road, to rear in panic. Quiet tutting from the rider calmed the animal, returning them to the leisurely pace they had kept through the forest most of the evening. Wispy tendrils of chocolate brown hair escaped the rider's hood as ice blue eyes scanned the tree line, keeping watch for their prey. Something had been stealing the livestock from around the Dark Castle, and the rider's master saw it fit to send the girl alone on horseback as bait for whatever had been committing the thievery. No one, absolutely no one, stole from The Dark One and lived very long.

The oppressive feeling of magic closed around her, she was certain her master was close – he had never let her out of his sight unless she was properly secured in the castle. At times, she had wondered if he kept her around only because of the loneliness he surely must have felt. Over the past two months serving him, however, they had come to a comfortable living arrangement. Her master had even given her new clothes, a soft bed, allowed her books to read once she completed her chores for the day. She had been allowed to wander the grounds as well as certain parts of the castle at will. It was on one of these wanderings of the castle grounds that she had noticed some of the livestock missing. Belle had been fairly certain at the time that she had not seen a cow, nor a sow butchered in the larder recently. While her master had no misgiving about slaughtering the livestock when they ran low on meat, Belle was thankful she never had to do the preparations herself. Too gentle of heart, her master had been telling her right along.

Belle's hands trembled as she scanned the area again, looking for the flash of amber in the dark that would tell her that her master, The Dark One, was still following her along the road side, waiting for the thief to try and stop her on the road. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a flash of silver from her left, an arrow loosed from a bow, hitting her palomino in the flank. Already spooked by the weather, and the residual traces of magic lingering in the forest, the horse threw her off leaving Belle in an awkward heap of cloak and leather riding clothes as he cantered off into the night. Quick to her feet, Belle pulled the dagger she had been given to protect herself – in case of more than one attacker, the blade silent as it slid from the leather sheath on her side. She turned as another arrow loosed, the imperfection of the fletching allowing her enough time to move as the air whistled across the notch of one of the parabolic vanes, causing the loud hiss – almost as loud as the thrum of the string.

"Rumplestiltskin!" She screamed, moving off to the other side of the road, the black cloak a blessing as she hid in the growth along the road. Belle pulled in a deep breath, willing herself to stop shaking as she heard the familiar giggle from above. Relief washed over her pale face, willing the fear of being shot with an arrow to fade. She was brave in her own ways, but she certainly was not going to be idiotic by not calling for her master to let him handle whoever was firing the projectiles at her.

"Well, well, if not a thief, at least someone is trying to harm my property." Rumplestiltskin waved a golden hand, trees along the other side of the road ripping by their roots, toppling in a semi-circle, leaving Belle's assailant visible in the low light of the hooded lantern the figure carried. "Do you have any last words before you offer an act of contrition to assuage my anger, cur?" Rumplestiltskin jumped from where he stood in the tree above Belle, landing with an almost feline grace in the middle of the road. Belle finally let her held breath trickle through barely parted lips, her shaking vanishing as she felt the heat pulled from the air around her, her master's hand glowing with fire.

"No, but I have a deal for you, Dark One." The figure called back, voice steady but Belle swore she could hear the undercurrent of fear in the words. Rumplestiltskin snapped his fingers, the fire that had been gathering flickering into nothingness once more, the first drops of rain starting to fall across the forest as the storm finally caught up to them.

"You see, dearie, I might have been in the mood to deal with you had you not stolen, and attempted to murder my maid. Good help is hard to come by these days, you know." He clasped his hands behind his back then, pacing back and forth in the road way. "Besides, you have nothing that I want." Belle had seen this exchange before, usually resulting in some poor idiot offering gold, or a first born child to her master in compensation for some bauble to bring back someone's lost love, or straying spouse. Belle had learned quickly from her master's mercurial moods that occasionally a deal could be struck, depending on if the one seeking the contract understood that what they were asking for usually was impossible to gain via magic. Staying crouched in the undergrowth behind Rumplestiltskin, she waited for the response. Maybe it would be tempting enough for her master.

"And I think you underestimated the gravity of the situation your little maid is about to find herself in." The fear that had been in the figures voice vanished as Belle's cry was muffled by a leather clad hand clamping down over her mouth, a dagger forced against her throat stopped her from struggling any further. Blue eyes wide with fear, she was forced to her feet, and marched out and around her master, the second figure giving wide berth in the arc they traveled back to the semi-circle of felled trees. "As you said, good help is very rare these days – especially when that help is a princess of Avonlea, whose father is offering a fortune for her return."

"As if I needed any reminding of how much I should have let the ogres rip that small little backwater to shreds. Very well, as I see you have my maid, I suppose your deal is for an exorbitant amount of gold in exchange for her life, neh, neh?" Rumplestiltskin's hands moved of their own accord, his voice becoming more malicious as he continued. "I think you've overestimated the value of good help. Take her! She's a breaker of cups, and clumsy girl who destroys more than she's worth." His hand waived dismissively. Belle's heart started to flutter faster in her chest as panic overtook her. Of course she had broken a few things as she adjusted, but she had tried all she could to make good on her end of their bargain. Tears started to form along her lower lids – how could he just allow her to be taken like that? He had said forever. Belle felt the dagger removed from her throat as the silver was pointed towards her master.

"See I told you! Coward even with all that power, after all this time – the book was right. We're going to be rich by the time we make it back to Avonlea!" Rumplestiltskin turned, hands clasped behind his back again, amber eyes turning almost black in the small amount of light still issuing forth from the hooded lantern. The second brigand tossed Belle back behind himself and the bowman then, cocky smile revealing half rotted teeth. For the second time that evening, Belle fell into a heap of cloak and leathers. "And if we kill him, well then, the entire realm will thank us! Everyone will fall before us and shower us with gold, think of it." The bowman tossed the lantern at Rumplestiltskin then, knocking an arrow as the imp swatted the object away. The brigand with the knife rushed at Rumplestiltskin, dagger held high to try and catch him in the neck.

Lithe on his feet, Rumplestiltskin caught the dagger between his fingers side stepping to allow the larger man's weight to carry him past as he took the dagger, flipping the hilt into his hand. "Neither of you were born with an over-abundance of brains, were you." Rumplestiltskin sighed as his black eyes rolled at the tedium of a "fight". He drew his sword from his side as the first man came back around trying to grab him from behind, thrusting the blade out behind him as he turned away from the arrow that was aimed for his face.

"Got to be faster than that, dearies." Rumplestiltskin giggled as he vanished in a poof of purple smoke, settling down on one of the felled trees, his sword snapping up to knock another arrow away. "That's enough of that now." A snap of fingers resonated as loud as the thunder that sounded as Belle finally worked the hood of her cloak back, regaining her feet on the rain slicked ground. She was soaking wet, upset, and dirty now. She was angry at her master for allowing her to get tossed to the ground not once, but twice, and furthermore she was hungry and tired – yearning for her bed at home with a good book and a spot of tea. Shaking her hands to try and clear the leaves and mud that had stuck to her, she picked her way back to the road, past the two idiots who were now hanging upside down some ten feet in the air, suspended by her master's magic.

"Good help is hard to come by these days?!" She asked incredulously, nearly smacking Rumplestiltskin across the face. One brow arched as his half-moon smile spread across his features, somehow making him look more sinister than she had ever seen him.

"Come now dearie, you should know by now that you were never in any real harm from these bumbling thieves." He tried to placate her anger, but could see he was getting nowhere fast. He wondered how burnt his toast would be in the morning, and whether his midday tea would be oversteeped and allowed to turn bitter in retaliation. His smile faded as Belle finally turned to look at her attackers.

"Are you really going to kill them, over a cow and a sow? There is more livestock. They might not have even been the ones who stole from you." Rumplestilkskin tsked as he steepled his fingers together, ignoring the rain as he studied Belle's face, her hair plastered to her skin by the worsening rain. He would need to take his maid home soon, lest she become ill in the late fall rainstorm.

"I might have let them live, had that been all they took." He explained, as he wiggled his fingers, a book sliding from the archer's pack, floating to his hands. "However, the livestock is the least of their worries. Someone or something took this book from my library, which means that someone has found a way into my castle, around my wards, and stole from me.

Since I can assume you had nothing to do with this, as it would nullify your agreement with me, and well, those pesky ogres would be free to return and trample your village into dust and bone, that means that my possessions are at great risk. Someone went through a lot of trouble to take this book, and give it to these pesky louses." Another snap resounded through the forest as the two hanging men disappeared, their clothing and items falling to the road as Rumplestiltskin placed an arm around Belle's shoulders. In a puff of purple smoke, he teleported them home.

Belle sneezed as they appeared in the Dark Castle, the doors into the main hall opening before them as Rumplestiltskin made his way towards his spinning wheel. Belle moved quickly to the fireplace, trying to warm up, but she knew she would need to strip out of the soaked leathers before she would truly feel warm again. Her face turned as the sound of a book being tossed on the large table in the center of the room echoed in the quiet hall. The familiar creak of his spinning wheel followed, barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

"Go change, dearie." He ordered, not turning away from his spinning, or rather, his turning of the wheel. He had yet to feed any straw in the wheel, as Belle recognized the behavior. He would be lost in thought for hours on end, and then would be screaming for tea and tarts of some sort once he was done. Belle took a few steps towards the door that would lead her to her "room", hesitating as she reached to push the door open.

"Rumplestiltskin?" She asked, as the creaking of the wheel stopped. "Thank you, I mean, for not allowing me to get hurt this evening." She felt a blush rise in her cheeks as he turned to regard her with those abnormally large amber eyes of his. He let that half-moon smile creep across his features once more, as he shooed her on.

"I'm not tired of you yet. Go change and get some rest, dear." He turned back to his spinning, the wheel turning once more. Belle smiled to herself, touching her cheek and feeling the warmth of her blush. She finally opened the door and made her way to her room. It would be so nice to feel dry and comfortable in her bed she decided. Rumplestiltskin looked back to the door way once more, his hand immobile above the wheel, one brow arched in confusion. He had more to ponder this evening that he had originally thought.

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Belle sighed to herself in contentment as she opened the door to her room, albeit it was more of a cell, and found the fireplace had been returned to her. Over three weeks ago, her master had taken the warmth away, for breaking a vial of a potion he had been working on for several nights straight. She had been relieved at the time that he hadn't taken the payment out of her flesh. Of course more blankets had found their way to the soft bed over the nights the fireplace had been missing. Belle figured she must have done a good job this evening to get the small comfort back.

Stripping away the soaked traveling leathers, her feet protesting the cold stone, she moved to the corner of the room where a toilette had been set up. A wash basin, with a pitcher sat cold, as she grabbed for her shift, pulling it over her head. Belle rested the pitcher in front of the fire, and waited for the water to warm up, as she busied herself with shaking the leathers, trying to get some of the water out of them, before she carefully spread them out by the fire to dry. She would need to spot treat some of the mud in the morning, when it had caked and would be easy to brush off with a stiff bristled brush. She took her riding boots and turned them upside down, setting them to the side of the fire on a special stand, hoping they'd dry overnight, otherwise her trip down to the stables in the morning to feed the pigs, cows, chickens, and horses would be rather treacherous. She only had the silk slippers she had worn the night her master had made his deal otherwise.

Tentatively, Belle touched the pitcher, making sure the water was warm now, but not hot enough to scald her. The temperature was just right. Belle took a towel out from under the toilette and set it down on the floor for her to kneel on. Lifting the pitcher, she poured the warm water into the wash basin, and then moved the delicate dish to the floor beside her. She took a bottle of rose water from the shelf the towel had come from, and dashed a few drops into the basin. A smaller soft cloth found its way into the water next. Content that it was finally bath time, she drew the shift up over her head and tossed the light fabric aside to the bed.

Hands dipping into water, Belle wrung the small cloth out, and started with her face, working the rose scented water down her neck, behind her ears, and across her shoulders before the cloth started getting cold. She dipped back into the warmed rose water, continuing down her arms, savoring the feel of warmth returning to cold sore limbs. Belle's breath hitched at the roughness of the cloth over her chest, across her belly. Her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to conjure up the face of her betrothed, trying to imagine having been married to him. Gaston had been superficial and less intelligent than she felt would have been tolerable, and the fact that her small fantasy was quickly becoming golden in her mind's eye raised a blush along her cheeks, the rush of blood quickly spreading down her neck and chest.

Another dip into the basin, and the arrival of the rough cloth over the curve of her hip brought more images of long golden fingers splaying across her skin. She made quick work of her most intimate area, and continued on to her legs, shaking her head at the silly notion of a man like her master ever touching a girl like her. Belle forced her eyes open, finishing her bath. The shift was pulled over her head as fast as possible to hide her nakedness. She had no right to think of her master like that, even if he practically seethed sexual confidence in his very existence.

Belle was not shy in the matters of men and women. She had been taught about what to expect her wedding night. Talks of the like had been saved for wedding nights for many a woman, but her own maid had been close in age and her conquests many. Belle had learned eagerly, committing to memory the many secrets the girl had shared. Ways to pleasure her to be husband that would hurt much less than the impending wedding night, ways to pleasure herself, should that same husband not be as concerned with her own pleasure.

And yet, Belle still blushed when she thought of her lessons. Still a maiden, that much had to be kept intact to make a strategic marriage work. And a maiden she would remain, as long as she was kept in the employ of her master. The deal had been forever. Frustrated, Belle fell back on the bed, pulling the heavy wool covers over her head as she groaned at the thought of never knowing another's touch. She had seen the serving girls in the castle, envied them their ability to love, even briefly, who they chose, not forced into a political arrangement.

Turning up on her side and tossing the covers back from her head, she finally snuffed the candles that had been lighting the room. She could hear the rain on the high window of her room, the constant pelt a welcome addition to the crackle of the fireplace. Warmth and comfort soon led her to sleep, content in the knowledge that she would not ever have to marry into a loveless marriage at the whims of another.

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Lightning continually splayed across the sky, the storm gathering momentum off the coast. The rain came down in heavy sheets on the window panes, hidden from view by the large drapes over every window in the Great Hall. Rumplestiltskin had yet to spin this evening, his hand continually turning the wheel, as the wheels in his mind turned at great speed. Someone had broken into his castle, and he could think of only one person with the backbone needed to steal the book that still lay untouched on the massive oak table. Regina – The Evil Queen. The book itself was meaningless, a simple register of families in a specific part of the country, a certain human spinner among the many entries, one of the last traces of the man Ruplestiltskin had once been.

What cause did Regina have to take such a book, and more importantly, why would she be interested in his life over two centuries ago. Every other person in that book was dead, with the exception of Baelfire – or so Rumplestiltskin hoped. Every year he held out the small hope that his son still lived, and they would one day be reunited, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. The more pressing issue was how Regina had come to take the book in the first place. If she could take that record, which had been securely stored in his library for two centuries, then what else might she have taken or plotted to take.

Hand leaving the wheel, Rumplestiltskin rose from his stool, taking the stairs to his library two at a time up the tower's interior. Long fingers caressed the first row of books he came to as amber eyes scanned the contents of the shelf. A quick mental inventory complete, nothing was missing from that shelf. He continued his search, walking counter clockwise around the room, until one finger slipped into an empty space on the bookshelf. The register had sat in that location, the shelf right next to the rather grand window he had a fondness of looking out of. Had it not been for the storm, he wouldn't have noticed the marks on the window until day time again. Someone had pried one of the panes loose enough to fit a hand through and turn the lock that kept the windows closed. Not Regina's style – but a simple thief with the right push would have been able to make the climb and gather the book with little trouble. Rumplestiltskin had never thought of warding this window – if he wasn't in this room, then he was downstairs in the Great Hall, it would have been impossible to complete the theft without him hearing.

Learning from his mistake, Rumplestiltskin quickly warded the window with the same enchantments that he warded the rest of the windows with. Only he or Belle could now open this window without losing a hand. Enough of a deterrent for most thieves not to try a second time. This wouldn't be enough, however, the rest of the castle needed to be checked for any other lapses in his defenses. If he couldn't protect his property, couldn't keep hold over what was his…well, he had learned that lesson a long time ago.

Slowly he descended the stairs, his fingers tracing the line of stone as he made his way back to the Great Hall to begin his inspection. He would look for dust at the same time. It would give him something to complain about to the girl in the morning that hopefully would distract her from sabotaging his breakfast in retaliation for his comments earlier this evening. He rather hoped the gesture of the fireplace in her room would also make her reconsider.

Tried as he could, he was unable to find even the most remote speck of dust in the Great Hall as his mental inspection continued. He hadn't been lying when he had called her good help. None of his prior caretakers had done their job in a satisfactory capacity. Then again, none of his previous caretakers had come of their own free will, nor had they been princesses beforehand. Rumplestiltskin steepled his fingers together under his chin, grinning at the memory of his favorite chipped cup. Skinning children, indeed.

His inspection of the kitchen yielded no broken wards, and nary a piece of silver out of place in the cupboards. Feeling mischievous, he took the sugar bowl from its place on the shelf, setting it in the middle of the center island, tipping its contents all over. His half-moon grin returned as he left the mess for the morning. The girl would scold him in the process, but that was always the exciting part. She wasn't scared of him, and the more he did to try and irritate her, the more focused on doing an exceptional job at her tasks she became. And he rather liked the challenge of trying to make her mad. The closest he had come yet was this evening on the road. Her eyes had not been ice in that moment, but fire and anger, directed at him, yes, but captivating all the same.

He continued on in each room, finding some object to move out of place as he catalogued his possessions, making note of anything looking disturbed. With someone cleaning the place, he couldn't expect everything to be right as he had left it last. He had found no major discrepancies, which eased his worry. The book had been the sole object taken, other than the livestock, which had been part of ruse, if logic held true. Returning to the Great Hall, Rumplestiltskin turned the old register right side up, and leafed through several of the pages until he found what was actually missing.

"Now what could you be planning to do with that, Dearie…" the sinister growl rose from his chest, his teeth gritted in anger. There was only one thing Rumplestiltskin could think of for the item taken, one possible reason she would have for taking one of the last remaining remnants of his former life. And he'd be damned before he let her get away with it.

Lips pulled back from his teeth, he vanished, teleporting himself to the Queen's castle. The storm hadn't yet arrived in this part of the continent, but by the looks of the dark clouds rolling in behind him, all hell was about to break loose. Purpose driven walk taking him right up to the gates of the castle, he blew the pitiful wood barricade of out his way, continuing inside. Guards started to yell from within the castle, but he paid them no mind. It was about time he had a small talk with his former student.

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Regina toyed with the braid of hair she had taken from Rumplestiltskin's book, her eyes narrowed as she weighed the options in her mind. Black hair braided with gray streaked brown, and deep chocolate, it had to be the last thing he had of his little family, that strumpet wife and idiot child of his. What Regina couldn't decide was why the monster had kept it all these years. Surely it was a trifle; something that he knew could be used against him eventually.

Rising from her sitting table, black skirts swishing, she crossed the room to a cauldron boiling already in a noxious purple brew. A hair from each strand in the braid, and she would be able to bottle one of the few things that could keep the imp from interfering with her plans. He had offered her the curse, helped her learn, come when she needed assistance, but his usefulness was coming to an end. Regina had never actually wanted him along for the ride when she enacted the curse, he would muck up her happy ending. Hand poised over the cauldron, hairs held between her fingers, she hesitated. He had given her the curse to use with as she willed, but the feeling of someone watching her stayed her hand.

"You know dearie," came the malicious voice in the dark, before the imp himself walked out of the shadows, hands steeple together as he took slow deliberate steps towards her. "If you really wanted to be rid of me, you wouldn't have stolen from me. Besides, you've cast that wrong." The imp giggled as he took a seat on the fainting couch, legs crossing, and hands behind his head. His smile was vicious, and his eyes spoke murder as Regina turned to look at him.

"If you had been a better teacher then maybe it would have turned out better." Regina threw back at him, tossing the braid in his lap. "Take your stupid trinket and be gone. I have more important things to do than suffer your laughing at me." She stormed back to her sitting table, the frown on her face becoming more evident, even as her high heels tapped out her annoyance at him. She took her seat and ripped the pins from her hair, letting the black silk tumble down her bare back, the dress open to almost scandalous depths, ending in a vee above the swell of her behind. Rumplestiltskin's eyes trailed appreciatively down to the point of the dress. His manic mood taking over, he stood from the couch, walking up behind her, black nails pulling the hair away from her neck. Regina held back the look of disgust that she was feeling.

"Tut, tut. You above all people know what happens to those that steal from me. Besides, the failings are your own. You're a lack-wit girl who lets ambition cloud her judgment, and the memory of twoo luv blinds you to what you could be." Rumplestiltskin leaned down, so that his next words would have maximum impact, the triumphant grin on his face as he could practically feel the hatred radiating out of her. "Of course, you always did let mommy-dearest take everything away from you, didn't you pet…" Rumplestiltskin took the hairs she still had in her hand and tucked them into his waistcoat, giggling as he moved to the window, hands behind his back, clasped together as he regarded the incoming storm. Regina stood then, throwing the first thing that came to hand at his retreating back.

"And you will always be a coward!" She screamed at him, as the bauble incinerated before hitting him. He let out another high pitched giggle as he turned. Regina pulled at the heat in the air, the fireball growing in her hand as the room went ice cold. Every bit of heat was channeling into the magic, her emotions fueling the inferno brighter.

"Oh you have no idea, pet. Enjoy your misery." His eyes were black as he disappeared in the cloud of gold, points of glittering light fading as Regina tossed the fireball after his retreating form, knowing it wouldn't connect, but feeling better that she had at least stood up to him and his malicious intentions this time. She resolved that the next time he came to see her, that she'd have something truly horrible laying in wait for him. He had long ago outlived his usefulness.

Secure in the knowledge he was gone; Regina walked to the cauldron, and dropped a single hair into the pot, watching as the liquid turned a bright golden shade. She smiled to herself, as she moved around the spell, whispering the incantation that would rid her of her former teacher, and her strongest adversary. The thieves had done their job well – Rumplestiltskin believed she was trying to manifest a spell to strip him of his power – she was certain of it – what use was hair with a purple potion if not to try and steal someone's power?

A face began to materialize in the potion, the liquid changing, growing, turning more humanoid as it went. Finally, a golden Belle stepped out of the cauldron, little puddles of gold fluid running down her body to the stone floors. As the liquid dried, the enchantment fleshed out, turning more lifelike by the second, until a perfect replica of Belle stood before her.

"I take it you've made your plan already?" Regina asked, the replica nodding once. "Good. Now go do your job succubus."

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Belle sat in the kitchen, book open on her lap, humming to herself as she stirred the beef stew she was making, occasionally moving the contents of the pot so that it didn't burn. After the encounter with the thieves in the woods, and the storm that still hadn't cleared up, she decided that a hearty beef stew would be just the thing to cheer her master up. He had returned in the middle of the night, footsteps echoing through the entire castle, mad, angry footsteps. The shouting at the walls didn't help either. Where ever he had gone that evening had made him extremely angry. Angry enough that his breakfast had sat untouched since morning, and she hadn't been called to gather anything for him at all this day.

Her chores had gone quickly after she had discovered that he had moved items around in each room she was allowed in. She had quickly moved everything back to its proper place, and continued with her rounds of the castle. She had been done by noon, and by then Belle was bored again. Without her master sending her to do this and that, she had improvised and spent the afternoon cutting vegetables from the root cellar, and cutting a flank steak from a recently slaughtered cow into bite sized chunks. The smell was simply sinful, the spices and wine blending together in the air made her mouth water.

The kitchen's swinging door opened then, as her master poked his head in, his eyes closed, his nose turned in the air as he took a deep smell, lips curling into a content easy smile. Belle closed her book, after slipping a small paper inside to mark her place. She turned a moment, and set the story on the island counter top behind her, and then returned to her stirring. Her master finally came all the way into the kitchen, a spoon from the counter in his hand, fully intending on stealing a bite before it was done. Belle smacked his hand with her own spoon and stared at him.

"Since you're no longer in the middle of a temper-tantrum, you can wait till it's done. It's your own fault for skipping breakfast and lunch, moping in your workshop." Belle returned the spoon to the pot, and lifted out a morsel of beef, bringing it close to her mouth so she could gently blow on it before checking to see if it was done properly. She had no intention of eating the bite, breaking the bit apart would tell her if it had cooked through or not.

Rumplestiltskin's face was one of shock, much like when her father had called him a beast, the night he had taken her from her home. A giggle rose from his chest as he leaned against the counter, watching her rosy lips pucker to blow air across the morsel on the wooden spoon she commanded like a sword. His knuckles actually hurt. Belle turned to see those amber eyes watching her, her own eyes turning downwards as to not look him in the eye for too long. She could already feel the blush spreading across her cheeks, and in the moment of her inattention, her master had leaned forward and taken the bit of meat from her cooking spoon with just his tongue. Belle watched as he chewed the meat, his face making her believe it was the most succulent thing he had ever tasted. His amber eyes regarded her the entire time.

Belle felt the blush deepen at his close proximity, and the way he was looking at her right then. She tried to breathe normally, but her breaths were getting stuck as she watched his tongue dart from between his lips, licking away all traces of the broth the stew chunk left behind. His giggle and rapid hand movements shook her from the fantasy playing out in her mind, and Belle cleared her throat as she turned back to the pot.

"So I assume that the stew is satisfactory?" She asked, looking over at the brick oven in the corner where two loafs of bread were baking to go with the hearty stew this evening. Rumplestiltskin leaned back against the center island behind her, watching her closely as she stirred again, careful not to completely turn the vegetables into mush, but just enough for the base to not burn on the bottom of the large cast iron pot. He placed one of his feet on the lowest rung of the stool where she was sitting, and picked up the book she had been reading when he had entered the room. Flipping through a few pages, he let the question hang in the air. "Master?" Belle asked hesitantly, her eyes still on the stew.

"Yes, Belle, the stew is very satisfactory." He spoke quietly, as he flipped to where she had marked in the book. Belle's eyes fluttered closed as he continued where she had left off. "The daughter, however, would not consent to this, and said, "Father, if we have the mortar without having the pestle as well, we shall have to get the pestle, so you had much better say nothing about it." But he would not obey her…" Belle's eyes snapped opened as he slammed the book closed and tossed it back on the island. "This story is boring." He said simply as he continued to stand behind her. Belle shook her head, a smile crossing her lips.

"Maybe, but it is a good story nonetheless. Full of clever riddles and love, and fighting for something that is truly worth it! Those are the best kinds of stories, don't you agree, Master?" She asked him, her spoon dipping out another morsel of meat, as she turned to let him taste, her smile still on her face as she held her hand under the spoon to catch any of the broth that spilled over. Rumplestiltskin's eyebrow rose nearly to his hair line as he leaned forward and took the bite, enjoying the spices and wine that danced over his taste buds. Seductive little minx was trying to win him over with food. As he chewed, he pondered her question, he much preferred stories that didn't have a happy ending, they were more realistic and the way the world really worked. One look at the hope behind those blue eyes and he found himself nodding in agreement. He couldn't bring himself to speak the lie past his lips, so he let his gestures do the lying for him.

"A scarier tale, mayhaps." He finally said, tapping his chin with his index finger. He knew he had books somewhere in the castle with stories that could make even the Dark One's blood run cold. And he was fairly certain his blood already ran cold in his veins, even if certain body parts conspired against him to prove him wrong. "With ghosts and evils that go bump in the night," he added. It was Belle's turn to raise an eyebrow at his words. She turned back to the stove, and then moved the pot off the burner, putting the iron cover over the hole to the fire within the belly of the stove. She moved off the stool, and went to pull the bread from the over. It was about time to pull it as well, the golden crust starting to darken a bit, just how he liked the bread. He moved to help her, knowing how clumsy the girl was at times. He wasn't taking a risk with the delicious smells that had him in a semi-decent mood this evening.

Belle smiled at him, as he stepped in to help her with the large paddle like tool that helped remove items from the oven without getting delicate limbs in the way. He masterfully pulled both loaves out, moving the wooden implement to the rack already set on the center island, letting both pans comes to rest there. They'd cool for a few minutes until the bread was ready to be turned out and sliced. His mouth was watering at the prospect of oven fresh bread and a bowl of stew.

"Now Master…" Belle began, smiling at him. "I believe this is what you brought me here to do. I shall bring your dinner shortly." Her voice was firm as she held a hand towards the kitchen door that would take him back to the Grand Hall. He raised a finger in protest, and then though better with the glint of mischief in her blue eyes. It was entirely possible she would dump a whole chunk of salt in his stew. A grin spreading across his face, the words that had started on his lips died and he turned, retiring to the Great Hall to wait.

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Rumplestiltskin paced back and forth by the book cases, waiting for his dinner to be brought forth from the kitchen. Silly girl was taking her time, making him wait for more of that mouth watering stew and fresh baked bread. He had already chosen a book for her, scarier tales for the storm still thundering over them outside. He had decided the storm was magical in origin. In his almost three centuries of life, he had never seen a rain storm last this long, or batter the realm as much as this one was. There had been heavy rain falls in the past, but none came close to the amount of water this storm was dumping on the land. With the way the windows were steaming from the heat of the castle, he supposed it was lucky that the air wasn't yet cool enough to turn the down pour into snow.

Moving to the window, Rumplestiltskin looked at the angry sky. A hand on the window pane, he turned towards the kitchen. This damned storm was going to turn into snow before the night was over, and the livestock would suffer in the elements. Grabbing an old walking stick from where it leaned on the book case, he pushed through the door of the kitchen again.

"Belle, I need your help." He said simply, pulling a rather large silver key from his waistcoat. "Take this key, and head downstairs and open the wooden door that opens to the pasture and stables, wait there to help me corral any stubborn sheep." Belle nodded once, grabbing her cloak from a peg on the wall near the stairs to the bottom floor of the castle. She knew it really wasn't the bottom floor. The castle had a dungeon she had never found the entrance to, but she knew it was there. She wrapped herself up tightly, as she heard the servant's door off the kitchen open, and then blow back shut against the pounding rain.

She descended quickly taking a torch off the wall and lighting it in a brazier as she passed by. Fitting the silver key to the lock, she turned it twice, knowing the first turn simply deactivated the charm on the door, the second turn actually unlocking it. She grabbed the iron loop and pulled the door open, trying to find him in the rain. She couldn't see him, but she could hear the gentle click of his tongue as he drove the herd of sheep towards the castle, the cows obediently moving along as well. Belle stepped back out of the door as they started to herd into the open room. She stepped to the stair case, knowing they'd travel up it towards warmth if allowed. A few chickens ran around the stomp of hooves on the stone floor, as the last cow filed in. Rumplestiltskin leaned his head in the door way, his hair matted to his face, even with his cloak pulled up.

"Belle, close the door while I go back for the horses. There's some straw in the back corner that is unfit for spinning, lay it out as best as possible, if you would please." Belle moved to do what he had asked; her hands pulling at the bales of straw she found bundled in the corner. He had lied; this straw was as good as any he had her fetch for spinning. Realization set in as she scattered the golden plant along the stone floor, a smile spreading across her face. This was straw he kept for spinning and he was using it to make the herd animals more comfortable. He did have a soft side after all, and she was keen to know that side of him even more now.

She started breaking apart another bale, scattering as best she could, as one of the goats playfully butted her in the side. The goat was a juvenile, so the hit hadn't hurt at all, just startled her. The cows were already picking up pieces of straw from the floor, their mouths moving, chewing over and over. She loved that they had livestock at the castle. She hadn't been allowed in the stables at her father's home, and she had never been allowed to the pasture to see the sheep, goats and other assorted animals the castle had kept. That Rumplestiltskin cared that the livestock were out of the storm, whether to minimize loss of the herd, or because he truly cared about the animals, well, that was noble of him, and even if it was just him protecting his "possessions" she decided that he couldn't be as evil as he thought himself to be. Belle turned to the sound of the opening door watching as he led all four horses into the store room, closing the door behind them, and locking and warding it once again.

He was completely soaked, water running down his leather in rivulets, puddling on the floor. He nodded once, noticing that she had spread out enough of the straw to cover the floor sufficiently enough to be easy to shovel out once the snow passed. He had felt the rain shift while he had walked the pasture back to the stables to bring the horses. It had beat down on him as he had made his way back to the castle, his breath misting in the air. It was sleeting now, and it wouldn't be long until the temperature dropped a bit more and turned the down pour into a snow storm.

Rumplestiltskin took stock of the animals. Even if they were snowed in for several weeks, he had enough straw, oats and corn to feed them all. That the herd would be thinned slightly as he and Belle ate would keep them fed for a month, if this blasted storm dropped that much on them. He was worried that it would. Fall was rapidly becoming Winter, and this storm felt magic in nature. Whomever was summoning it, meant for it to be a snow storm. Belle was still moving, filling up feed sacks with oats for the horses, scattering corn for the chickens, even setting to work in the corner, fashioning some of the straw into nest for the hens. They'd lay eggs again soon – the ones in the coop would be frozen with the snow, and could be gathered later, the chill would keep them fresh at least, provided none of them were housing chicks yet.

Belle frowned as she worked on the nests, and Rumplestiltskin decided she had come to the same conclusion – there might be baby chicks in the coop that would freeze to death as the temperature dropped. One look at the tears starting to spill silently down her cheeks had Rumplestiltskin back out the enchanted door with a basket, heading to the coop.

After several chicks had been returned to the mother hens, and the eggs that were not yet budding into little chickens stowed away in the upstairs kitchen, Belle had moved the stew pot back over the fire of the stove, warming it back up. It had taken them over an hour and a half to get the animals fed and housed out of the elements. While her master had gone to change out of his clothing, she had fussed at him to not let it sit on the wooden floors lest the water ruin the wax she had recently redone in his rooms, she did what she could to salvage the meal. Filling two bowls full of the stew, and bringing an entire loaf of bread along with butter she had churned the other day, she backed through the swinging kitchen door into the Great Hall.

The fireplace was burning brightly, and instead of his usual place at the wheel, or at the head of the table, Rumplestiltskin sat in the wing backed chair in front of the fire place, poking absentmindedly at the logs. Belle carried the tray of food to the small table that sat between the chairs at the fireplace, taking the poker from him, and handing him a bowl of stew instead. He released the poker, gladly accepting the bowl, the spoon already resting in the blessed food. Rumplstiltskin was still cold from the rain, now snow threatening to bury his castle for months.

By the time he had returned from the chicken coop, nearly five inches of fluffy white covered the ground, and looks outside the window showed no signs of it letting up soon. He watched as Belle threw another log on the fire, using the poker to shake the ashes of the incinerated logs to the floor. When the fire had died down in the morning, she would clean them out, and start the process all over again. The book he had chosen earlier sat on his knee as he spooned the stew to his mouth, relishing the warmth it offered to his still chilled body.

Fire attended to, Belle took a seat in the other chair, pulling both her legs up under her and spreading her skirt out before she took the other bowl of stew from the serving tray, tasting her hard work herself. His amber eyes followed the spoon as it disappeared between her lips, a blissful smile spreading across her face as she teasingly slow pulled the silver from her mouth, her tongue just barely following the movement out, before sliding back between her lips, savoring the meal. Rumplestiltskin wasn't feeling very cold any more. If she continued to eat like that he was likely to make an unwelcome advance on her. He cleared his throat as he returned to his own food, his mind turning over and over like a mad man. Did she even realize how ravishing she made the simple act of eating look? She surely was doing this on purpose. He could find no other explanation. And somewhere in the back of his mind, the monster in him was whispering to him to take her. She was being very clear that she wanted to be taken, but the man in him, the man that had won out in sheltering the animals, in heading back out in the elements to potentially save the chicks bullied the monster back into its cage.

Belle was a very young woman, and there was absolutely no way that she understood that what she was doing was so infuriatingly seductive. She was innocent, and he didn't have the right to corrupt her, any more than he already had by stealing her away from her family. And if she were ever to find out that she visited him nightly in his dreams, she would be appalled. He was ugly, a monster, The Dark One. No one could ever love him – not even his own son. Thoughts bitter, he continued to eat, but the meal had lost the magic it held just minutes before. The stew was simply nourishment, nothing special. There was no way she could have known it was one of his favorite meals – he had never requested it from her experimentation in the kitchen. It was circumstance, plain and simple.

Setting the dish aside, he plucked a slice of bread from the tray and buttered it, the corner of his mouth twitching involuntarily into a half smile as he realized she had reheated the bread, and the butter was oh so deliciously melting into every little crevice. Had he been thinking, he would have asked her to bring the honey pot out as well – that would have made it even better. Taking a bite, he then knew why she hadn't – she had put honey in the dough before baking. Silly girl didn't know the fire she was playing with.

"Do you like it?" Her voice shattered the silence, and Rumplestiltskin looked to her, nodding slowly as he chewed. It was divine. Maybe had had at one point mentioned to her that he liked honeyed bread, or maybe she had just assumed after having made the bread for long enough to know he always requested the honey after their meals. "Good, I'm glad!" Belle replied with a smile. Infuriatingly seductive little minx.

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Sometimes I think Rumple purposely likes being smexy in my head as I write - otherwise he's cunning and infuriatingly fond of leather no matter what time of year. Let me know how you like it! - Like I mentioned before, this one will be updated slower than Sensitivity as Sensitivity is my main focus now. Expect updates every two weeks, instead of every Friday/Saturday unless I get a drivin' need to have more Rumbelle smut. Who am I kidding, Rumbelle smut is the best. - Sedation