A/N: Where the first chapter could have been considered romantic, humorous, and just hinting at naughty things, this chapter could not. This is pretty much pure, unabated smut: you're welcome.

Gold's hand was clasped around her wrist, just hard enough to be assertive without feeling as if she couldn't get away if she wanted to.

She could run away, and he wouldn't stop her.

So it was lucky for him that she really, really didn't want to. He was looking at her like she had wanted him to for months: like all he wanted to do was rip her clothes off and eat her alive.

Which was a plan she was completely on board with.

He dragged her through the house, up the stairs and into the bedroom. His bedroom.

The one she planned to call hers from now on, if tonight ended well.

That was the last lucid thought she had for a while, because right then he spun her around, and used her momentum to throw her backwards onto the bed. She squealed as her back hit the mattress, and scooted backwards as he came to join her, looming over her with a wicked grin.

She barely had time to catch her breath before he was kissing her, slower than before, taking the time to languidly explore her mouth as his hands went to work sliding under her skirt, fingers mapping every inch of her skin.

He broke away and grinned down at her, as he gripped the hem of her dress, encouraging her to lift her arms so he could pull it up over her head.

She refused to just lie there passively: she reached up and started to undo his tie, sliding it out from his collar and pulling him down to her with it. He kissed her smiling mouth for a moment, before pulling back to help her with the buttons on his shirt.

He threw the offending garment across the room, and was right back on top of her, his bare skin flush against hers. She cried out as his lips reached her throat, trailing a line of sharp, nibbling kisses up the column of her neck to her jawbone.

When he moved up and looked down at her, she felt heat rising in her cheeks. It had taken her this long to realise that, aside from her bra and panties, she was now completely naked before him.

For a moment, she had the urge to somehow cover herself, but she supressed it and looked boldly up at him. She'd started this, and she knew she'd be forever disappointed if he didn't damn well finish it.

The embarrassment went away when she saw the way he was looking at her. His eyes scanned every inch of her body, and it felt almost as physical as when his hands had done the same.

She'd never felt so sexy as in that moment.

"Now," he said, breaking their silence, "Pretty as this is, I don't think we'll be needing it." He gestured to her bra, and she nodded enthusiastically, reaching behind to unfasten it and throwing it to join the rest of their discarded clothing.

They shared a wide, almost conspiratorial grin, and Belle had to giggle. He had never looked so happy in all the time she'd known him.

Then his hands went back to work, clever fingers running little circles over her breasts, hardening the nipples, the small pain of his fingernails on her flesh only intensifying the sensation.

Her eyes squeezed closed, and she felt him move down her body, fingers leaving trails of fire over her ribs and belly as he went.

He slid one finger down over the wetness at her centre, and she moaned and bucked into him. "So," he murmured, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers across her skin as he settled between her legs, "I don't think these serve much purpose, either, do they love?"

She shook her head, eyes meeting his as he pulled her knickers down over her legs, the material whispering across the backs of her knees and over her feet.

She was laid completely bare before him, and she'd never felt so good.

Then, all coherent thought died as he went to work on her dripping core, tongue sliding through the moisture and lapping at her clit, her whole body set alight. He explored every bare inch of her aching flesh, his movements sharp and fast, darting in to taste her and each time finding a new way to make her cry out and buck into his mouth.

She could feel the pressure in her centre coiling, ready to release and explode. Her fingers found the back of his head, wove into his soft hair and held him right there, right where she needed him, every nerve focused on the movement of his lips and tongue and – oh, God! – teeth.

She was so close, so close, just one more touch and –

He looked up, mouth glistening, and just smiled.

Bastard!

Belle looked like she was ready to brain him with something, and Gold's smile just widened.

He'd had a hunch she'd enjoy that. He'd never been happier to be proven right.

He let her calm down for a moment, her head falling back against the pillows, before he decided to be cruel for just a moment. He ran one long finger right down her centre; right down to where he knew she needed him the most.

He teased at her opening, dipping his fingertip inside enough to make her moan, but not nearly enough to make her happy.

He worked his way back up her body, taking time to admire the expanse of creamy, perfect skin, to remind himself that she was here, wanton and wet and willing, just for him. All for him.

"Alright, love?"

He smirked at her, trying to ignore his own growing desperation.

He'd been getting hard since the moment he saw that damnable little red dress, and now it was getting almost unbearable. But he swore to ignore it: if he was going to break all of is careful, uncharacteristically self-sacrificing rules, he was at least going to make it good for her, too.

That plan that went completely out the window when she reached down and cupped him through his pants. He looked down in shock, wondering if she even knew what she was doing.

The pleased little smile on her face answered his question. "Oh, Belle, what have you been reading?"

"Stories that are more like instruction manuals," she replied, and he realised he must have said that last question out loud. Oops.

She started rubbing, stimulating nerves that were already on high alert, "Now," she leaned up to his ear, "We don't need these; do we?"

Her fingers had started working on his belt, but they were shaking and ineffective. He reached down to help her, and within a minute they had cast aside his belt and trousers, and he was right back where he needed to be.

With his cock pressing against her hot, wet opening, and her eyes bright and fixed on his, and every inch of his bare skin pressed against a part of her soft, warm body.

He could have stayed there for eternity, if she wasn't squirming impatiently and trying to wriggle down to force him inside of her.

He pushed up inside her in one long, smooth stroke, taking it slowly so she could adjust to the feeling. Her eyes widened, and she let out a little gasp of pain as he sheathed himself entirely in her warm, wet heat.

He wanted to start immediately, the pressure built to such a degree that all he wanted, needed, in the universe was to pound into her, as hard and as fast as he could, and bring her off with his name on her lips.

Next time.

Now, she was looking at him with a vulnerability that was almost fear. She had been nothing but bold, even brazen, all evening, but in the end she was still a young girl, and he was so much older than her, and this was how it had to be.

So he went slowly, pulling out a little before pushing back in, smiling when, this time, her gasp seemed to be more pleasure than pain.

He built a rhythm, slow and deep, and revelled in the slide of her wetness against his cock, the way she began to swoon and moan with every thrust. She was so close already, her arms came to limply grasp his shoulders, her legs wrapping around his waist of their own accord to afford him a deeper, harder angle.

She was so hot, so tight, and he'd been so worked up since the moment he saw her. He grit his teeth, knowing he wouldn't last long but desperate to see her come first, to feel her walls contract around him and watch her fall apart.

He wanted to hear her scream.

So he picked up the pace, just a little, and snaked one hand down between them to flick and rub at her swollen clit in time with his movements. He loved the way her back arched, her hips bucking to meet his cock and his fingers with every thrust. The look on her face was uncontrolled, lost in the sensation, mouth open and eyes screwed shut.

He leaned down and kissed her, unable to stop himself: she was so beautiful, and he'd missed her so much, and this was so much better than any dream of her he'd ever had.

She kissed him back fiercely, one hand moving from his shoulder to hold the back of his head, keeping her lips locked against his.

She was breathing hard when they broke away, and he couldn't help himself. "I love you." He murmured, kissing every inch of her face, and he felt the moment when she came.

Her scream echoed through the room, and he felt her slick walls wrench his cock, the sensation too powerful for his wavering control. He came hard inside her, his thrusts erratic, rhythm lost as he fell into sensation, thought a thing of the past.

Finally, he collapsed on top of her and used his last bit of strength to manoeuvre them so he wasn't crushing her, so she was curled into the curve of his body, and pull the sheet over to cover them.

They lay there for a moment, silent. Belle could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and it raised the hairs there, sending a muted prickle of pleasure down her spine. His arms wrapped around her middle, holding her against him, and she never wanted to be anywhere else.

"Well, that definitely worked." She muttered, almost to herself, after a minute.

"What did?" he asked, his words rumbled against her hair.

"Seducing you." She smiled, and turned her head so she could see him properly.

"Yes," he laughed, looking down at the pair of them, entangled naked in his bed, "I'd say it did."

"I probably should have done it sooner," she mused, "We wasted months edging around each other."

"I was not edging."

She gave him a look, one eyebrow raised, and dissolved into giggles. He looked so absurd, hair crazy and rumpled, still sweaty from their activities, trying to look dignified and affronted. "You were acting like I was made of glass."

"Mmm," he gave up on dignity, and nuzzled into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple, "I thought it would be inappropriate to accost an innocent young woman in my own home."

"Our home." She corrected, "And I don't think innocent applies anymore, do you?" she raised an eyebrow, and he conceded the point, "Anyway, I love you, so it's not inappropriate." She added.

"No, but it does make you certifiably insane." She could feel his smile against the back of her head, and it matched her own.

"Perhaps. But I'm happier this way."