Rumpelstiltskin's Hell (Rumpel/Belle; Soft R/M)
Title: "Rumpelstiltskin's Hell"
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: Soft R/M
Summary:
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
He had the answers for everything. Every one from the Prince to the Dwarves, and every village idiot in between, came to him to resolve their problems. He could conjure anything from the prettiest rose to the most wicked Demon. He could solve the common cold or cancer without batting an eye, if he was so inclined, and save the world from certain death with but an uttered oath.
He was the Dark One. All the power in Hell was at his command. Rumpelstiltskin had always liked to think he could even go toe to toe with the Devil and win. Even now, in this new world of modern horrors, he knew he could win, but he also knew he would lose his soul in the process. He was losing his soul already, he thought, as his fingers trailed over his lover's soft, brown hair, and he was letting it go.
Belle would be ashamed of the monster he had become, but yet the woman beside him wore her very same, beautiful form and was thrilled every time he beat some one into a bloody pulp or turned them into their rightful, wormy form. She thrilled in his evil as much as Belle had treasured what little goodness he'd had left. It's Lacey's face whom he caresses now, but it's Belle for whom his heart sings whenever this woman's body is close to him.
It's Belle to whom he yearns to be close, and yet she would run from what he's become. He's worse now than he had been when he'd first taken her away from her family and kingdom. Back then, he hadn't tried to be good. He hadn't wanted to be good. He'd truly believed himself to be completely evil and had been almost as proud of his wickedness as he was of his power.
Nothing had been able to stand in his way. Nothing but Belle had dared to try, and she had only succeeded in doing so because he had allowed her. He had allowed her to free Robin Hood. He had allowed her to save lives that were rightfully his. He had allowed her to awaken the man inside of him, the man whom he'd thought long dead when he'd lost his son. He'd allowed her to make him realize that he did still have some desire to be good, but that desire had been for only one reason.
Looking back now, his memory still somewhat foggy from all the years he's lived, he can't recall the exact moment when he first fell in love with her. It wasn't when she freed Robin or when she stepped in his way of killing the thief. It wasn't when she'd read to him or confessed concern that he might be killed. It wasn't when she'd told him she believed he still held the capacity for good in his dark heart or when she'd first kissed him in trying to break his curse.
It wasn't any of those moments, but then, he mused, lovingly stroking her innocent and sweet face as Lacey slumbered, perhaps it was all of them, all of them and more, all of those, little moments that revealed her true self to him. It was Belle he loved for all of those reasons and more. She was the only thing that made him still want to be good, the only being whom he still strived to please, but he was caught.
He was awash in turmoil, sin, and evil again for he couldn't be near her. He could only be near Lacey. He had the answers for every one else but none of those which mattered for himself. He'd thought finding his son had been the most important thing in the world for him, but he'd been wrong. Belle was the most important thing for him, and now, he feared he'd never her back.
The thought of never being with her again terrified him deep inside where he'd thought no fear could touch him again after discovering that she was still alive. This new fate was worse than believing her dead. At least, with death, he'd had the slim hopes that he might one day be able to resurrect her or reverse time to the point where she'd been killed and save her, thereby making himself the good hero in her eyes and winning her love forever more, but he couldn't reverse time in this realm. Resurrection was also a no-go after he'd seen what had happened to Regina and her lover.
Worst yet, there was no spell, no magic that he knew of (and he knew of all that had ever been known to mankind), that could help them now. There was no magic that could help him. Belle did not even know that she was hurting, that she was sick, that she was no longer in possession of her own body. She was asleep somewhere within the form he now caressed, completely, and blissfully, unaware of every time they made love and all the wicked he did to earn the praise coming from her rosy, plump lips.
He'd become the Dark One because he'd foolishly thought that magic could solve all of his problems. It had cost him his son, and now it had cost him his greatest treasure of all: his beloved Belle. It could return neither to him. His son might be alive and in Storybrooke, but he wanted nothing to do with him. It was magic that had taken his Belle from him and magic that would keep her slumbering and gone from him forever. It didn't solve problems, after all; it created them.
"Belle," he whispered her name as he gazed into her face. His entire heart, the deepest part of his soul, and his very being longed for her beautiful, brown eyes to open and reveal to him not Lacey's soul but her own. He yearned for her return and would gladly give his last breath to set things right for and in her. He would do anything, give his power to any one, find a way to rewrite history again, kill anybody, or let himself be killed just to see her eyes open again and know that it was Belle behind her longing gaze and not a trollop whose greatest turn on was power using her body to get him to do what she wanted him to do.
Rumpelstiltskin shook his head sadly as his long fingers caressed her slender neck and moved lower down her tender flesh. It was so ridiculously ironic that everybody should come to him for answers and help and yet none, including himself and the power of True Love, could give him what he needed most in all the world, the one thing, the only person, who, if he could only have her again for a few moments, would allow him to die happily. The end of the spell was coming. He could sense it the fiber of his being. He couldn't stop it even if he wanted to, not without Belle to believe in his capability to do good, but he also didn't want to die with only Lacey for company.
Belle would hate what he'd become, but yet, gazing down into her face, Rumpelstiltskin felt he had no other choice. If he couldn't have Belle, at least he could have Lacey wearing her body. If he couldn't have his love, at least he could still taste her sweet lips. If he couldn't have his soul mate, at least he could still make love to her body, cry her name out, and then twist Lacey's mind to believe that it was her name he spoke instead of Belle's.
"Belle." Her name broke from his lips in a whimper like the prayer of a dying man gasping for water. Her eyes fluttered open, but she wasn't there. It was still Lacey, always Lacey, and so it would be until he died. He closed his eyes. He wanted to die now!
Belle's lips curved up at him, but it was Lacey who gave her sweet smile a devious twist. "You said her name again."
"Did I?" he whimpered, forcing his eyes to open and look upon the creature in his bed. "I -- " He couldn't quite manage to apologize this time as his heart cried out for his beloved Belle.
"Sh." Lacey placed a finger against his lips. He trembled from head to toe at the touch. It should be his Belle touching him, but she'd never touch him again. He'd never have her again to hold close, to believe in him, to love him and give him the strength he'd never had before.
"Kiss me again, and I'll pretend I didn't hear." Her whispered words are meant to be seductive, but they feel to Rumpelstiltskin much more like the slamming of one cage from which he can not escape. His eyes harden; he knows what he must do. He silences his next whimper in a passionate kiss on Belle's lips, and yet again, as he makes love to Lacey, he tries once more to convince himself that because she is in Belle's body, it is the next best thing to having the woman whom he truly loves beneath him.
There's only one problem. She isn't Belle; she's Lacey. And this isn't Heaven. It's Hell.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Rating: Soft R/M
Summary:
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
He had the answers for everything. Every one from the Prince to the Dwarves, and every village idiot in between, came to him to resolve their problems. He could conjure anything from the prettiest rose to the most wicked Demon. He could solve the common cold or cancer without batting an eye, if he was so inclined, and save the world from certain death with but an uttered oath.
He was the Dark One. All the power in Hell was at his command. Rumpelstiltskin had always liked to think he could even go toe to toe with the Devil and win. Even now, in this new world of modern horrors, he knew he could win, but he also knew he would lose his soul in the process. He was losing his soul already, he thought, as his fingers trailed over his lover's soft, brown hair, and he was letting it go.
Belle would be ashamed of the monster he had become, but yet the woman beside him wore her very same, beautiful form and was thrilled every time he beat some one into a bloody pulp or turned them into their rightful, wormy form. She thrilled in his evil as much as Belle had treasured what little goodness he'd had left. It's Lacey's face whom he caresses now, but it's Belle for whom his heart sings whenever this woman's body is close to him.
It's Belle to whom he yearns to be close, and yet she would run from what he's become. He's worse now than he had been when he'd first taken her away from her family and kingdom. Back then, he hadn't tried to be good. He hadn't wanted to be good. He'd truly believed himself to be completely evil and had been almost as proud of his wickedness as he was of his power.
Nothing had been able to stand in his way. Nothing but Belle had dared to try, and she had only succeeded in doing so because he had allowed her. He had allowed her to free Robin Hood. He had allowed her to save lives that were rightfully his. He had allowed her to awaken the man inside of him, the man whom he'd thought long dead when he'd lost his son. He'd allowed her to make him realize that he did still have some desire to be good, but that desire had been for only one reason.
Looking back now, his memory still somewhat foggy from all the years he's lived, he can't recall the exact moment when he first fell in love with her. It wasn't when she freed Robin or when she stepped in his way of killing the thief. It wasn't when she'd read to him or confessed concern that he might be killed. It wasn't when she'd told him she believed he still held the capacity for good in his dark heart or when she'd first kissed him in trying to break his curse.
It wasn't any of those moments, but then, he mused, lovingly stroking her innocent and sweet face as Lacey slumbered, perhaps it was all of them, all of them and more, all of those, little moments that revealed her true self to him. It was Belle he loved for all of those reasons and more. She was the only thing that made him still want to be good, the only being whom he still strived to please, but he was caught.
He was awash in turmoil, sin, and evil again for he couldn't be near her. He could only be near Lacey. He had the answers for every one else but none of those which mattered for himself. He'd thought finding his son had been the most important thing in the world for him, but he'd been wrong. Belle was the most important thing for him, and now, he feared he'd never her back.
The thought of never being with her again terrified him deep inside where he'd thought no fear could touch him again after discovering that she was still alive. This new fate was worse than believing her dead. At least, with death, he'd had the slim hopes that he might one day be able to resurrect her or reverse time to the point where she'd been killed and save her, thereby making himself the good hero in her eyes and winning her love forever more, but he couldn't reverse time in this realm. Resurrection was also a no-go after he'd seen what had happened to Regina and her lover.
Worst yet, there was no spell, no magic that he knew of (and he knew of all that had ever been known to mankind), that could help them now. There was no magic that could help him. Belle did not even know that she was hurting, that she was sick, that she was no longer in possession of her own body. She was asleep somewhere within the form he now caressed, completely, and blissfully, unaware of every time they made love and all the wicked he did to earn the praise coming from her rosy, plump lips.
He'd become the Dark One because he'd foolishly thought that magic could solve all of his problems. It had cost him his son, and now it had cost him his greatest treasure of all: his beloved Belle. It could return neither to him. His son might be alive and in Storybrooke, but he wanted nothing to do with him. It was magic that had taken his Belle from him and magic that would keep her slumbering and gone from him forever. It didn't solve problems, after all; it created them.
"Belle," he whispered her name as he gazed into her face. His entire heart, the deepest part of his soul, and his very being longed for her beautiful, brown eyes to open and reveal to him not Lacey's soul but her own. He yearned for her return and would gladly give his last breath to set things right for and in her. He would do anything, give his power to any one, find a way to rewrite history again, kill anybody, or let himself be killed just to see her eyes open again and know that it was Belle behind her longing gaze and not a trollop whose greatest turn on was power using her body to get him to do what she wanted him to do.
Rumpelstiltskin shook his head sadly as his long fingers caressed her slender neck and moved lower down her tender flesh. It was so ridiculously ironic that everybody should come to him for answers and help and yet none, including himself and the power of True Love, could give him what he needed most in all the world, the one thing, the only person, who, if he could only have her again for a few moments, would allow him to die happily. The end of the spell was coming. He could sense it the fiber of his being. He couldn't stop it even if he wanted to, not without Belle to believe in his capability to do good, but he also didn't want to die with only Lacey for company.
Belle would hate what he'd become, but yet, gazing down into her face, Rumpelstiltskin felt he had no other choice. If he couldn't have Belle, at least he could have Lacey wearing her body. If he couldn't have his love, at least he could still taste her sweet lips. If he couldn't have his soul mate, at least he could still make love to her body, cry her name out, and then twist Lacey's mind to believe that it was her name he spoke instead of Belle's.
"Belle." Her name broke from his lips in a whimper like the prayer of a dying man gasping for water. Her eyes fluttered open, but she wasn't there. It was still Lacey, always Lacey, and so it would be until he died. He closed his eyes. He wanted to die now!
Belle's lips curved up at him, but it was Lacey who gave her sweet smile a devious twist. "You said her name again."
"Did I?" he whimpered, forcing his eyes to open and look upon the creature in his bed. "I -- " He couldn't quite manage to apologize this time as his heart cried out for his beloved Belle.
"Sh." Lacey placed a finger against his lips. He trembled from head to toe at the touch. It should be his Belle touching him, but she'd never touch him again. He'd never have her again to hold close, to believe in him, to love him and give him the strength he'd never had before.
"Kiss me again, and I'll pretend I didn't hear." Her whispered words are meant to be seductive, but they feel to Rumpelstiltskin much more like the slamming of one cage from which he can not escape. His eyes harden; he knows what he must do. He silences his next whimper in a passionate kiss on Belle's lips, and yet again, as he makes love to Lacey, he tries once more to convince himself that because she is in Belle's body, it is the next best thing to having the woman whom he truly loves beneath him.
There's only one problem. She isn't Belle; she's Lacey. And this isn't Heaven. It's Hell.
The End