Chapter Text
Three hundred years on, the Others mostly left Rumplestiltskin to his own devices. More often than not, he sensed their presence in his gut-wrenching loneliness or the loathing that flooded him whenever he looked in the mirror. Then he dealt for the Maid, and the whole bleeding lot of them encamped themselves in the Great Hall.
The Others hungered for her in ways that drove Rumplestiltskin to distraction. Zoso rhapsodized about the blueness of her eyes and the creaminess of her skin. Nimue wanted to know the color of her nipples. When the Maid bent over the dust a shelf, the boar threw itself to the ground and writhed with piggish glee.
Rumplestiltskin hated how they simpered over her. The Maid could not draw breath without sending the Others into a frenzy of lewd comments and – almost worst – declarations of undying loyalty. But if Rumplestiltskin thought he would find peace by leaving the Dark Castle to deal elsewhere, he was sorely mistaken.
The Others threw a fit when Rumplestiltskin took them to Camelot.
“Belle, Belle, Belle, Belle!” chanted the hunched old woman who’d taken the dagger after Nimue. “Sweet Belle. Good Belle.”
The pig ran in circles, butting against Zoso and the wraithlike creature who never spoke but managed to communicate disquietingly detailed thoughts through eye contact alone.
“Our Belle misses us,” sighed Nimue. “And we miss her.”
“She means us, by the way,” growled the hulking man who’d taken the dagger sometime between the wraith and Zoso. “Nobody ever misses you, Rumple Bumple.”
Time passes
Rumplestiltskin lay abed and tried desperately to ignore his aching erection. Whenever he wanked – and, to date, the longest he’d held out was five hours and thirteen minutes – the Others knew that he was thinking about Belle.
And they would whisper the filthiest, basest suggestions to him.
“Belle has such a pretty pink tongue,” the hunched old woman would cackle. “Imagine that pretty pink tongue tracing its way up your shaft.”
The hulking man’s laugh would send vibrations shooting through Rumplestiltskin. “She could take your bollocks in her mouth and hum. A woman does that to a man, and it hits him in places he didn’t know he had.”
“Do you wonder what it’d be like to bury your face between her thighs?” Nimue would murmur silkily. “Belle must taste divine.”
Rumplestiltskin’s balls ached, and he had no idea why. Belle’s hand had brushed against him when she handed him his afternoon tea; he’d dismissed himself and masturbated furiously in a nearby broom closet while the wraithlike creature watched him creepily. That’d been less than three hours ago. How could he be so aroused again so quickly?
A cheer went up in his bedchamber as Rumplestiltskin gave in and took himself in hand. He managed to cum within moments even as the boar rutted against his favorite pillow.
More time passes
“I know why he hates us,” Zoso said.
“It’s so obvious,” Nimue agreed.
“I sussed out the reason the night she moved into the castle,” the old woman declared.
From the hulking man Rumplestiltskin heard only laughter. Damn them all. He rushed from his tower lookout, eager to be seated at his spinning wheel by the time Belle returned to him. For she had returned to him, even after he’d released her from her contract!
Zoso waited by the wheel, and when Belle entered the Great Hall, he almost looked sad. “You hate us because we are you,” he said. “We haven’t said a thing you haven’t felt or thought before us. We know you, Rumplestiltskin, and we speak your truths.”
“And your greatest truth,” Nimue continued, appearing beside her successor, “is that you are despicable, Rumplestiltskin. You are a monster. A beast.”
“Belle will never love you,” the hunched old woman spat, “and if she knew how you felt about her, she’d dash her own heart and throw herself into the fire.”
The Others left him then. Moments later, when Belle kissed Rumplestiltskin, he threw her love for him to the floor and ground it under his boot heel. He cursed her and frightened her and he cast her out. And he had no one to blame but himself.
Thirty-odd years later
“I would like to make a request,” Rumplestiltskin said quietly. “Hear me out, please.”
The Others tittered. “We’re listening,” Nimue replied cautiously.
“I would like you all to respect my privacy –”
The hulking man bellowed. “He doesn’t want us to watch them anymore!”
“Of course I bloody don’t want you watching while I make love to Belle!” snarled Rumplestiltskin. “And don’t you dare act as if watching’s all you do.” He pointed accusingly at the hunched old woman. “Your suggestions are both unwelcome and physically impossible.”
The hunched old woman huffed. “Really, Rumplestiltskin, if you’d only take up yoga! You’d be amazed what positions you could manage.”
Rumplestiltskin rounded on the boar. “I cannot – finish – when you begin to rut against Zoso’s leg!”
“You know, I’d appreciate if that’d stop, too,” Zoso admitted. “But I don’t see why this means we have to make ourselves scarce.”
“We love her too,” Nimue sighed. “We are you, after all.”
Rumplestiltskin shook his head. “No, you’re not. Not any more. I’m a changed man. For Belle’s sake, for my boy’s.”
The wraithlike creature smirked, and its expression planted in Rumplestiltskin a seed of worrying doubt.
“Rumple? Did you say something?” The door to the bedroom opened, and a creamy bare leg appeared, stretching suggestively while its owner remained hidden.
“No, my darling Belle,” Rumplestiltskin replied. “It’s just you and me.”
“For now,” Nimue muttered before disappearing.
The Others followed suit. But Zoso wanted the last word.
“You always have a choice,” he told Rumplestiltskin. “And you always make the wrong ones. Especially where Belle is concerned.”
Belle saw Rumplestiltskin’s smile flicker as she stepped into the room, dressed in a daring pale pink camisole. Her hands went to her breasts to cover her puckered nipples.
“Oh, gods, it’s too much, isn’t it?” Belle loved the new world’s fashion but still struggled against feeling immodest.
Rumplestiltskin banished his demons and focused his attention on his true love. “You’re beautiful, Belle. I can’t believe you’re mine.”
Belle’s beaming expression stole his breath. His cock throbbed for her. “And you’re mine. We belong together, Rumple.”
For now, echoed Nimue’s admonishment as Rumplestiltskin made love to Belle that night. For now.