Our Story Begins: Rumbelle Fic
Title: Librarian
Summary: There are many things Belle learns in books and some of them are very steamy. (Prompted by sidhe_faerie)
Characters/Pairings: Rumbelle
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1,546
Despite making it clear that Belle was not to neglect her duties, Rumpelstiltskin turned a surprisingly blind eye to her reading hours, which lengthened tremendously after his gift of the library. She pretended to spend so much time in there because it was incredibly dusty, and it took forever to remove the books, clean the shelves, and then replace them. He, in turn, pretended to believe her. Though he’d claimed to want a caretaker for his “rather large estate,” the truth was that he could care less about the state of his castle. So long as she provided his tea on schedule and kept the basket at his great wheel filled with straw, he made no complaints.
Not for the fist time, Belle wondered why he had truly bargained for her, when he clearly had no real use for a maid, but she supposed that was something he’d never willingly admit.
In any case, she accepted the gift of the library like the miracle it was, and not a day went by that didn’t see her pouring over as many dusty tomes as possible. Though he’d taken great pains to dirty the room and make it look old and abandoned, Belle knew he’d created it just for her, and quickly discovered he’d filled the shelves with books from centuries past, along with the most current novels. Either he or his magic had thoughtfully organized them by genre, allowing Belle to easily flip back and forth between history, fantasy, philosophy, art, and every other literary topic known to man. She knew there were more books in this room than she could ever read in two lifetimes, but she was determined to absorb as much variety as possible.
One afternoon, nearly four months after Rumpelstiltskin had presented her with the library, Belle found herself perusing shelves toward the back of the library. There was a small nook she’d somehow overlooked earlier, and she was eager to discover what sorts of treasures she’d been missing.
Choosing several books at random, Belle flipped through the pages, noticing a common theme of courtship, romance, love, and happily-ever-afters the likes of which she knew only existed in the truest of fairytales. She smiled slightly, wondering if her master knew he’d included such frivolous novels in his gift. She had the feeling he’d simply conjured them at random, ensuring only the widest variety possible. In truth, Belle had stopped reading romance novels after becoming betrothed to Gaston, once she’d realized that True Love had no place in her life or heart. Hers would be a marriage not just of convenience, but of necessity, for his family brought troops, armor, and weapons sorely needed against the ogres. She’d accepted her role with good grace, if not happiness, knowing this marriage was the best chance her people had of survival.
In that respect, choosing to go with Rumpelstiltskin had been the simplest decision she’d ever made. She’d already been willing to bind her life to a man for the sake of her kingdom. What difference did it make if that man was Gaston or the Dark One?
Still, now that her life had so altered, perhaps there would be no harm in indulging herself with such whimsical tales? After all, she was surely never to experience such things herself, now that she was a lowly maid with no wealth or connections of her own. Besides, if she was being completely honest, the only man with whom she’d wish to share such a relationship was…well, he was completely off-limits, for one thing, and for another, he would surely not be interested in a little slip of a girl with no worldly experience. Not when he was centuries old and knew so much, had experienced so much, and would no doubt find her dull, silly, and so very, very young.
Sighing, Belle continued to glance through the books. Perhaps a surrogate romantic fantasy was precisely what she needed to take her mind off Rumpelstiltskin’s wit, vivacity, quirky humor, and - most importantly - his tight leather pants.
She was about to retire to the comfortable couch in the center of the library with her current stash, when a leather-bound book, taller than the rest, caught her eye. Curious, Belle set her other books aside to lift this one off the shelf, correctly assuming its size made for a substantially heavier tome. Despite being familiar with the Old Tongue and several of its variants, Belle did not recognize the characters forming the title. Even more intrigued than before, she placed the book on a convenient table and flipped it open to a random page.
What she saw made her cheeks immediately flush.
It apparently didn't matter that she couldn't translate the text, because there was precious little of it. The book was primarily composed of pictures. Black and white pictures, to be sure, some of which were crudely drawn, but pictures that nonetheless provided extremely vivid images.
Unable to resist, Belle flipped through page after page of the book, encountering the same theme repeatedly. The images depicted men and women in various states of undress, often completely nude, as they performed explicit...acts together.
Belle might still be a maiden in body, but she was not wholly unaware of the world. In times of peace, before the ogres came, she and her friends would often gather to watch her father's soldiers drill in the courtyard, their bare chests gleaming with sweat after a hard workout. A few of her more brazen friends whispered broken stories of exploits in haylofts and secluded nooks. Belle was curious enough about the act to research it, but as there was no man who ever captured her heart, she'd not been as excited by the prospect as she might otherwise have been. And then had come her engagement with Gaston, who had respected her virtue but insisted on stealing sloppy, wet kisses that mainly involved shoving his tongue in her mouth, leaving her feeling vaguely unclean.
But nothing had prepared her for these direct and uninhibited images, nor for the sudden pooling of liquid lust between her thighs and the tightness of her lower belly.
She tried to tell herself that it was just the surprise, and that - anatomically speaking - there was nothing depicted that she hadn't already known existed. (Though she had to admit that she never would have guessed that a few of the more...creative...positions would be physically possible!) But if she was being honest, the pictures themselves were not to blame for her sudden and intense emotions.
It was that she now had a face to place on the black and white sketches.
As though in a dream, Belle found herself turning page after page, her mind drifting without permission to thoughts of acting out these scenarios. Touching, caressing, licking, kissing. Her heartbeat skipped erratically as she imagined lightly textured hands gripping her hips, sharp claws carefully refraining from marking her - unless she begged so prettily - while a pair of dry lips nipped and suckled across the shell of her ear, the juncture of her neck and shoulder, the valley between her breasts, and finally lower. Belle covered her mouth with the back of her hand to stifle the low whine that came unbidden to her lips.
Well, if nothing else, here was definite proof that Rumpelstiltskin most assuredly did not know what was in her library!
Belle knew the smart thing to do would be to close the book, place it back on the shelf, and forget all about it. If she truly wanted some escapism, she could retreat to the more familiar, and much less explicit, world of fantasy and adventure. Her silly - and quite inappropriate - crush on her master needed to be stifled, not nourished with dreams that could never come true.
But in a war between reason and curiosity, Belle knew which side would inevitably win.
So, she browsed quickly through the library, finding several large art books that would conceal her new-found treasure. She hid it at the bottom of the pile, in case she ran into Rumpelstiltskin on the way to her room. Normally, he just rolled his eyes when he saw her carrying a load of books and made some quip about how difficult it was to find good help these days, but she wanted to be prepared, just in case.
And though it was against her better judgment, Belle found herself curled in bed that evening, her nightgown around her waist, one hand flipping through the illustrations and the other between her thighs, touching herself to the thoughts of a man who, no doubt, had much better things to do than harbor feelings for his bookish maid. But when she allowed the ecstasy to overwhelm her, she whispered his name, the long syllables tripping from her lips as she reclined back amongst the pillows with a smile on her face, and the book still open across her chest.
*****
And high in his tower, Rumpelstiltskin, who could feel his name being invoked from across the world as part of the Dark One's curse, lifted his head from his potions, wondering what the devil his little maid could possibly want him for at this hour of the night....
Summary: There are many things Belle learns in books and some of them are very steamy. (Prompted by sidhe_faerie)
Characters/Pairings: Rumbelle
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1,546
Despite making it clear that Belle was not to neglect her duties, Rumpelstiltskin turned a surprisingly blind eye to her reading hours, which lengthened tremendously after his gift of the library. She pretended to spend so much time in there because it was incredibly dusty, and it took forever to remove the books, clean the shelves, and then replace them. He, in turn, pretended to believe her. Though he’d claimed to want a caretaker for his “rather large estate,” the truth was that he could care less about the state of his castle. So long as she provided his tea on schedule and kept the basket at his great wheel filled with straw, he made no complaints.
Not for the fist time, Belle wondered why he had truly bargained for her, when he clearly had no real use for a maid, but she supposed that was something he’d never willingly admit.
In any case, she accepted the gift of the library like the miracle it was, and not a day went by that didn’t see her pouring over as many dusty tomes as possible. Though he’d taken great pains to dirty the room and make it look old and abandoned, Belle knew he’d created it just for her, and quickly discovered he’d filled the shelves with books from centuries past, along with the most current novels. Either he or his magic had thoughtfully organized them by genre, allowing Belle to easily flip back and forth between history, fantasy, philosophy, art, and every other literary topic known to man. She knew there were more books in this room than she could ever read in two lifetimes, but she was determined to absorb as much variety as possible.
One afternoon, nearly four months after Rumpelstiltskin had presented her with the library, Belle found herself perusing shelves toward the back of the library. There was a small nook she’d somehow overlooked earlier, and she was eager to discover what sorts of treasures she’d been missing.
Choosing several books at random, Belle flipped through the pages, noticing a common theme of courtship, romance, love, and happily-ever-afters the likes of which she knew only existed in the truest of fairytales. She smiled slightly, wondering if her master knew he’d included such frivolous novels in his gift. She had the feeling he’d simply conjured them at random, ensuring only the widest variety possible. In truth, Belle had stopped reading romance novels after becoming betrothed to Gaston, once she’d realized that True Love had no place in her life or heart. Hers would be a marriage not just of convenience, but of necessity, for his family brought troops, armor, and weapons sorely needed against the ogres. She’d accepted her role with good grace, if not happiness, knowing this marriage was the best chance her people had of survival.
In that respect, choosing to go with Rumpelstiltskin had been the simplest decision she’d ever made. She’d already been willing to bind her life to a man for the sake of her kingdom. What difference did it make if that man was Gaston or the Dark One?
Still, now that her life had so altered, perhaps there would be no harm in indulging herself with such whimsical tales? After all, she was surely never to experience such things herself, now that she was a lowly maid with no wealth or connections of her own. Besides, if she was being completely honest, the only man with whom she’d wish to share such a relationship was…well, he was completely off-limits, for one thing, and for another, he would surely not be interested in a little slip of a girl with no worldly experience. Not when he was centuries old and knew so much, had experienced so much, and would no doubt find her dull, silly, and so very, very young.
Sighing, Belle continued to glance through the books. Perhaps a surrogate romantic fantasy was precisely what she needed to take her mind off Rumpelstiltskin’s wit, vivacity, quirky humor, and - most importantly - his tight leather pants.
She was about to retire to the comfortable couch in the center of the library with her current stash, when a leather-bound book, taller than the rest, caught her eye. Curious, Belle set her other books aside to lift this one off the shelf, correctly assuming its size made for a substantially heavier tome. Despite being familiar with the Old Tongue and several of its variants, Belle did not recognize the characters forming the title. Even more intrigued than before, she placed the book on a convenient table and flipped it open to a random page.
What she saw made her cheeks immediately flush.
It apparently didn't matter that she couldn't translate the text, because there was precious little of it. The book was primarily composed of pictures. Black and white pictures, to be sure, some of which were crudely drawn, but pictures that nonetheless provided extremely vivid images.
Unable to resist, Belle flipped through page after page of the book, encountering the same theme repeatedly. The images depicted men and women in various states of undress, often completely nude, as they performed explicit...acts together.
Belle might still be a maiden in body, but she was not wholly unaware of the world. In times of peace, before the ogres came, she and her friends would often gather to watch her father's soldiers drill in the courtyard, their bare chests gleaming with sweat after a hard workout. A few of her more brazen friends whispered broken stories of exploits in haylofts and secluded nooks. Belle was curious enough about the act to research it, but as there was no man who ever captured her heart, she'd not been as excited by the prospect as she might otherwise have been. And then had come her engagement with Gaston, who had respected her virtue but insisted on stealing sloppy, wet kisses that mainly involved shoving his tongue in her mouth, leaving her feeling vaguely unclean.
But nothing had prepared her for these direct and uninhibited images, nor for the sudden pooling of liquid lust between her thighs and the tightness of her lower belly.
She tried to tell herself that it was just the surprise, and that - anatomically speaking - there was nothing depicted that she hadn't already known existed. (Though she had to admit that she never would have guessed that a few of the more...creative...positions would be physically possible!) But if she was being honest, the pictures themselves were not to blame for her sudden and intense emotions.
It was that she now had a face to place on the black and white sketches.
As though in a dream, Belle found herself turning page after page, her mind drifting without permission to thoughts of acting out these scenarios. Touching, caressing, licking, kissing. Her heartbeat skipped erratically as she imagined lightly textured hands gripping her hips, sharp claws carefully refraining from marking her - unless she begged so prettily - while a pair of dry lips nipped and suckled across the shell of her ear, the juncture of her neck and shoulder, the valley between her breasts, and finally lower. Belle covered her mouth with the back of her hand to stifle the low whine that came unbidden to her lips.
Well, if nothing else, here was definite proof that Rumpelstiltskin most assuredly did not know what was in her library!
Belle knew the smart thing to do would be to close the book, place it back on the shelf, and forget all about it. If she truly wanted some escapism, she could retreat to the more familiar, and much less explicit, world of fantasy and adventure. Her silly - and quite inappropriate - crush on her master needed to be stifled, not nourished with dreams that could never come true.
But in a war between reason and curiosity, Belle knew which side would inevitably win.
So, she browsed quickly through the library, finding several large art books that would conceal her new-found treasure. She hid it at the bottom of the pile, in case she ran into Rumpelstiltskin on the way to her room. Normally, he just rolled his eyes when he saw her carrying a load of books and made some quip about how difficult it was to find good help these days, but she wanted to be prepared, just in case.
And though it was against her better judgment, Belle found herself curled in bed that evening, her nightgown around her waist, one hand flipping through the illustrations and the other between her thighs, touching herself to the thoughts of a man who, no doubt, had much better things to do than harbor feelings for his bookish maid. But when she allowed the ecstasy to overwhelm her, she whispered his name, the long syllables tripping from her lips as she reclined back amongst the pillows with a smile on her face, and the book still open across her chest.
*****
And high in his tower, Rumpelstiltskin, who could feel his name being invoked from across the world as part of the Dark One's curse, lifted his head from his potions, wondering what the devil his little maid could possibly want him for at this hour of the night....