Monday, September 12, 2016

A Rumplestiltskin Lemon -- Amaranthine

Character: Rumplestiltskin

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

OC: Caitlin, somewhat shy

Inspiration: Rumple makes a rare mistake with a spell and one thing leads to another *winkwink*  Also I had a hard time writing Rumple’s character in this one, so I hope he doesn’t seem weird

You of all people know how real magic is.  Living with Rumplestiltskin has certainly opened your eyes to the darker side of it, but also to the wonders that magic can produce.  Still, despite the strange trust that envelopes you whenever you think of Rumple, you still find yourself afraid sometimes.  Not of him, but of magic in general.  It’s been the catalyst of many terrible things that has happened to you in the past.
Which is why tonight you are more than a little hesitant to be sleeping alone.
The Autumn equinox is a powerful time for magic.  The rifts between worlds get weaker at the corners, and darker things have an easier time finding their way through the veils.  Even the real world isn’t entirely exempt from the effects of it, Storybrooke least of all.  It’s that, as well as the blustering winds and ominous feel to the air, that have you sliding from your bed and walking out into the hallway.
He’s in the backroom of the shop even though it’s well after midnight.  Rumple has always had strange sleeping habits.  You suspect they’re a byproduct of being the Dark One, though you’ve never outright asked.  He often joins you in bed much later, and usually wakes up before you do.  Sometimes he doesn’t even come upstairs at all.  His leg has been bothering him more recently.
Tonight you will just join him instead.  Being alone with all your memories is unacceptable.
“Rumple?” you murmur, poking your head into the backroom of the shop.  Besides the tiny bathroom and equally tiny kitchen unit, there are no other rooms on the bottom level of the rickety old house.  You take one sweeping look at the fairly cluttered space before glancing at the curtain that separates it from the actual shop.  He must be inside.
“Cat?  What are you doing up?” his voice suddenly wanders over, just before the curtain shifts and reveals his form.  He steps inside and lets the fabric drop back into place behind him.  In his hands, he’s holding some unlabeled bottle of red liquid.  You vaguely wonder if it’s blood.
With a sigh, you step fully into the room and take a seat on the small vintage settee.  “I can’t sleep tonight.  I thought I’d watch you work?”
The question is almost tentative, as if you’re afraid that he will send you away.  The old Rumple would’ve had no remorse in doing so, back when his reputation had been slightly less stellar.  (Only slightly, really, because the people of Storybrooke still don’t trust him and you can’t entirely blame them.)
But – the man he is now is different, in ways you can’t completely explain, only feel and intrinsically understand.  Instead of sending you away, he just smiles gently and moves forward to take a seat beside you.
“No doubt the magic in the air is affecting you,” he says after a moment.  He sets the vial down on the table in front of them and leans back.  “It’s very strong tonight.”
You’re happy, at least, that you aren’t just imagining it all and getting afraid for no reason. 
You hum and shift closer to his form, laying your head on his shoulder and curling your legs over his.  He doesn’t seem to mind the intrusion into his personal space.  Your relationship with him is pretty confusing, you think.  Yet at the same time it’s startlingly clear.
“I started to remember things.  Things I don’t want to remember,” you whisper against the fabric of his steel gray dress shirt.  You don’t have to explain – he knows exactly what things you’re talking about.  He’d experienced them alongside you after all, and dealt with the repercussions himself.
So Rumple just lets out a soft sigh and wraps an arm around your shoulders, drawing you closer against him. 
“What can I do?” he asks, because consoling has never been his forte and he never knows how to react when someone needs comforting.
You laugh a little and tell him, “Just keep working and don’t worry about me.  Having you around is enough.”
The hand that’s been circling your upper back pauses.  You can practically feel his surprise that such a statement and you lift your head with challenging eyes.  Your eyebrow raises, jutting up as you catch his eye.  A small smirk plays at the corners of your mouth.
“You already know that, Rumple,” you say, slightly chastising.
He smiles a bit too and huffs minutely, as if he thinks you’re somehow teasing him.
“Hearing you say it is somehow different,” he responds, but nonetheless he leans forward to take the vial of red liquid up again.  You shift to accommodate his movement, laying your head back against the couch as you watch him pause, then stand up.
“Where’re you going?” you wonder, tilting your head.
He glances at you with an unreadable expression.  “I’ve changed my mind.  I’ll make you a sleeping drought instead.  It will give you a dreamless sleep.”
You stare in subtle surprise as he heads back into the main room of the shop.  It’s strange, really, how open he’s become in expressing his affection for you – even if it’s in his own way.  You shouldn’t be surprised at it but sometimes you are.  He’s always had a way of taking you off guard when you least expect it.
When Rumple reappears a minute later, he’s holding a white feather in his hands.  You watch idly as he returns to your side, pulls the table closer, and sets the feather down on the surface of it.  He’s clearly been preparing to make some other magical concoction before you’d made an appearance, because his other materials are already set out on the work space. 
“Should I even ask?” you murmur, glancing at the feather with a speculative look on your face.  You know enough about symbolism to realize that white is for purity, but how does it translate to dreams?  To be honest, you’ve never had a knack for magic like Rumple does.  That’s part of the reason you love watching him work.  The other reasons you have are slightly less appropriate.  (You can’t help it if you happen to admire his graceful movements and slender hands!)
“Think of it this way: the feather sweeps the traces of negative thoughts from your head – thoughts that might have turned into nightmares.  It leaves the mind open to more positive thoughts.”  His explanation is simple and to the point and you nod.
“It sounds like your dreamcatchers,” you say, watching as he uncorks a small bottle and slowly trickles the contents of it into a cast iron cauldron. 
Rumple hums.  “Except this doesn’t catch anything, it merely replaces them for the time being.”
You raise an eyebrow, thinking back to the Magic 101 rules that Rumple had instructed you on back in the Enchanted Forest.  He had tried to draw out your natural magic, but all you succeeded in was being able to recite practically all the alchemical properties that magic has.  It wasn’t for lack of effort; you’d always been much better at weaponry than magic, and everyone has their strengths.
“The negative thoughts need to go somewhere though.  That’s standard magical application,” you say, as if you’re a student in a classroom and he’s your instructor.  Rumple chuckles, and you quip a smile. 
When he turns to you and sweeps an arm around your shoulders, his expression is strangely affectionate and it makes your heart splutter a fraction.
“Quite right, dearie.  I’m glad you remember some of the things I taught you.”
You laugh and hit him playfully on the chest, “Excuse me!  I remember everything, I just can’t actually do spell work like you.”
The corner of his mouth lifts up and he turns back to the cauldron, which is now smoking gently, like incense.  He lifts up the feather and drops it in, and the scent turns very fragrant, like an earthy forest with traces of lavender.
“The negative thoughts don’t go anywhere, exactly.  They stay right where they are,” he taps your head with a smirk.  “The spell just colors them, like a chameleon.”
You raise an eyebrow and mutter, “Huh.  That sounds safe, I think.” 
You can never be too sure with him, though you know Rumple would never intentionally hurt you.  (At least, he hasn’t yet, and you’ve been around him for quite a long time.)
“Oh it’s perfectly safe,” he says, sounding completely sure of himself.  He usually does when magic is involved.  Gesturing to the cauldron, he tells you, “Just inhale the smoke, dearie.  It should work immediately.”
“…That’s it?” you ask, a little skeptical that it’s so simple. 
He shrugs and breezily mentions, “I assume so.  I’ve never tried this spell before.”
You’re halfway to the cauldron when he speaks, and the moment the words leave his mouth, you stop and look back at him.  He’s watching you with a raised brow, as if he knows that there’s nothing dangerous about this at all despite having never tested it out previously. 
“So I’m your guinea pig?” you ask dryly, and he chuckles.
“In a manner of speaking,” he replies, and you roll your eyes at him.
“That’s not very heartening, you know.”
“Well you can always just try going back to sleep on your own, if you think you can stand the nightmares,” he replies easily, and shrugs.
He knows that you always get nightmares on nights like these.  They’re usually horrid – black slimy things that reach out to you and pull you under, making you watch every murder you’ve ever participated in and every dark happenstance that’s ever happened to you as a result.  You do not want those nightmares tonight.
With a sigh, you turn back to the cauldron and mutter, “I hope this works.”
And you inhale.
Then you lean back and tilt your head.  You glance at Rumple, who’s blinking down at you curiously.
“Nothing’s happen – oh,” you murmur, putting a hand over your heart.
Rumple sits up immediately, a look of wary concern shifting over his face.  “What is it?”
You frown.  “Nothing.  I mean, I just feel a little hot, that’s all.”
To be honest, it’s getting a little hard to produce coherent thoughts as well.  The spell is clearly working, brushing through your mind, but the side effects are a little startling.  Suddenly your blood is pumping through your veins like wildfire, and your clothes feel restricted.  You’re only wearing a simple nightshirt and a robe, yet it feels like you’re encased in armor.
Rumple peers down at you with apprehension.  “Hot?  How so?”  He places a hand on your forehead and his eyes widen fractionally.  You really do feel hot, almost feverish in fact.
“…Like I need to get my clothes off, hot,” you mumble, fingers zooming in on the ties of your robe.  Rumple just stares in muted surprise.  He clearly hadn’t been expecting that.
“This isn’t supposed to be a side effect,” he muses as you pull off your robe.  He’s thinking so hard that he doesn’t even notice the fact that you’re wearing one of his shirts.  With a hum, he stands up and murmurs, “Hold on a moment, Cat.  I think I have something to fix this.”
He disappears into the shop without even noticing the way your fingers are now fumbling over the buttons of your nightshirt, desperate in their quest to remove the fabric from your burning body. 
He doesn’t notice at all, in fact, until he’s walking back through the door, holding some kind of jewelry in his hand and saying, “Put this on, it should help – “ and that’s about the time when he looks up.
His words die on his tongue and he stares at you with surprise and no small amount of faded interest that you know very well is brewing into desire.  How could it not, when you’re sitting completely naked on his settee with your arms outstretched on the back of the couch and your head tilted back.  Your chest is practically heaving, gulping in cool air as you stretch your body out with a groan.  And Rumple just stands there shell shocked and stares at you, because in all his days he’s never seen something quite like this.
“…Rumple, I think you gave me an aphrodisiac or something cause my body is so hot and you look so attractive right now,” you tell him, eyes roving over his figure in earnest.  He really does look attractive – sexy, even.  He always looks amazing in his suits and the regal air in which he holds himself does silly things to you.  Tonight even more so, because you can’t take your eyes off of him.
He opens his mouth and then closes it.  Rumple clears his throat and walks forward.
“Give me moment, Cat.  I’ll whip up a counter spell for you,” he mumbles, caught between the need to give her one right this instant and the desire to wait just a little longer.  She’s never looked so arousing to him and to be honest, he’s never gotten hard this quickly.  But his body is betraying him and his trousers are definitely a little tighter than they were a moment ago.
He sits down a little further away than before, looking a bit out of sorts as he sets the necklace on the tabletop.  He’s about to reach for some of the ingredients he’d used to make the spell when you shake your head with a groan and sit up.
“I don’t want the counter spell,” you tell him, voice slightly lower and darker than he’s ever heard it.  It’s arousing in a way it’s never been before, even during the past intimate encounters you’ve shared.  All low gravel and reckless need shooting through every sound.
“Cat - ?” he asks, but the rest of his question gets promptly cut off when you hook your leg over his waist and pull your very naked self into his lap.
Rumple just sits there and stares at you, utterly shocked at the frankly seductive way you’re acting.  You’ve never been one to initiate such things before, at least not so boldly.  But it’s more than just shocking; it’s absolutely riveting and he can’t look away even for a moment.
He can feel the heat of your body crease against him, right through the layers of his clothes.  You feel even more feverish this close and he thinks it might be affecting him too, because a sudden rush of fiery desire slips through his veins with wild abandon. 
He should stop and pull away.  He’s not certain if you’re under the influence of the spell or have full control over yourself – but when you suddenly shift closer and rub your hips against his groin, all Rumple can do is clench his jaw and grapple you closer, slumping back against the couch without a care.
“Cat, you should stop,” he mumbles, but doesn’t make a move to halt the way your hips are rutting against his.  His eyes drift up to the ceiling for a split second before he drags them back to your form.  He can’t bring himself to look away from you.
“I can’t stop, Rumple,” you pant, dragging your hands over his chest and starting to unbutton his dress shirt.  The moment the top few are undone, you dive forward and press kisses over the revealed flesh, groaning as you cup his neck and fumble with the rest of the buttons with your free hand.
He’s near to breathless beneath you, hard and hot against you, when you moan, “I need you inside me right now.  I’m going crazy!  I can’t think of anything but having you inside me – “
Before you’re even finished talking, he surges forward and presses a hard kiss against your mouth, hands shifting up your bare back.  You moan again.  The sound gets muffled against him.  He swallows it up and pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, tongue tracing over it as his hands spin down to your rear.  The way he heaves you closer against his erection makes you breathe out sharply and kiss him back with a wild power that leaves you shaking right down to your core.
“Take this off, please Rumple, I need it off – oh God, yes!” you cry, you mind going a million miles a minute.  But you can’t help it, God you really can’t, because his fingers are suddenly pressing down against your clit and it feels so good that you can’t breathe.
You buck your hips against his fingers like it’s the only thing worth doing, ever.
“Cat, you look…I’ve never seen you look so – “
“Sexy?” you supply, voice merging with a moan that makes Rumple shiver visibly. 
He chuckles but nods, and murmurs darkly, “Yes.  You look extremely sexy.”
You smirk and lean back to rip the rest of his shirt off.  In retrospect, you’re sure you’ll be fairly mortified with the way you’re acting.  But your body is literally on fire and the only thing that seems to quell it is having him touch you. 
In any case, Rumple doesn’t seem to mind too much.  You’re sure he’ll chide you on the fact that his shirt is now missing several buttons – but you somehow doubt that he’ll really mean it.  Not with the way he’s looking at you now, all smoky eyed and full of desire.  It’s funny, because you’ve never seen him look so sexy either.  It’s as if something has been unlocked within you.  A certain need that, before, had been grounded.  Now it’s free and overpowering in its potency.
You shove the edges of his shirt to the side, revealing the defined skin of his chest and running your fingers over it.  It’s too much effort to remove the fabric entirely, not when your mind is buzzing with electricity.  You need more and you’ll go insane if he’s not inside you as soon as physically possible.  So you’re naturally at the button of his trousers before you can give it any more thought. 
Rumple doesn’t stop you.  Any feeble attempts he’d made at doing so before are gone now.  He’s never been overly good at self control, and it isn’t as if you’re acting very different from your usual self (sans the seductress capabilities, he supposes).  In any case, he has a feeling that this kind of thing can only be cured one way, and even if he’s wrong he doesn’t think he could stop you now even if he wanted to.
And he doesn’t want to at all.
You’ve got his trousers undone in a matter of seconds.  When you wrap your fingers around his length, he has to fight back a groan.  You’re being utterly shameless in a way he’s never witnessed.  Usually you’re much shyer than this; it takes you a while to work up the courage to touch him the way you want.  But tonight there’s no such hesitancy and Rumple has to admit that it’s startlingly arousing.
“You’re so hard,” you hear yourself murmur with a moan, looking down at his cock as you pump it through your fingers.  Your thumb brushes over the tip and he sighs out, swallowing tightly.  It’s such a compelling sight that he has to look away for a minute to gather his control. 
“Cat,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering briefly when your other hand joins in.  Your touch is so certain that he has to tell himself not to give into it yet.  He desperately wants to despite it being a little soon for such things.  Perhaps he’d also inhaled a whiff of that incense too, because he’s never felt so out of control.
You lean forward with a chuckle and press your lips against his cheek, his jaw, his chin.  Your nose brushes his as your mouth lowers against his, and against it you whisper, “I really need you now, Rumple.  I don’t want to wait.”
He laughs a little because you sound so demanding and it’s really so very different from your usual sexual encounters.
“Oh?  You need me right now?” he asks, sounding a little mischievous.  You notice, of course, and narrow your eyes at him with a frown.
“Let me rephrase that,” you mutter, voice low and burring with desire.  “I’m going to take you right now.”
He’s about to respond when you guide his cock against your wet folds and rub him just barely over your entrance.  Whatever answer he’d been planning to say dies completely at that little move of yours, and Rumple can only grasp onto you tightly as he blinks down at your hands. 
He looks like he still wants to say something so you decide to cut him off completely with a kiss.  Your mouth burns his with no small amount of passion and, coupled with the way you’re moving your very wet core over his length, Rumple can’t even come up with a coherent thought.  Of course, when you sink down on him moments later, coherency seems like such a silly useless thing anyway.
He groans out just a little as you rock forward, slowly taking him inside you inch by inch.  It’s a glorious feeling that you doubt you’ll ever get tired of.  You can feel yourself smiling against his cheek, where you press another soft kiss.  Rumple’s grip on you only tightens.  Before you even have a pace set, he starts guiding your movements with almost impatient hands, as if he can’t help but drag you down on top of him. 
The buzz of your arousal thunders through your head as you start moving your body over his.  The world is shady and smoky, like a mask has been drawn over everything except him and your own stark, wild need.  It’s almost frightening in its potency, that raw ache that splinters through you – but every shift of your hips dulls it down somewhat, until the power is softer and more contained.
This is exactly what you needed.
You kiss him as you move forward, hips thrusting against his with an almost savage passion.  Rumple doesn’t seem to mind.  If anything, he appears all the crazier and matches your need with his own.  The temptations whisper at you darkly and you can’t stop.
With a moan, you slip your hands over his skin and down his chest, tracing the soft ridges of his stomach.  The messy kiss shatters with a burst of clouded arousal and you tip yourself back, bracing your hands on his shoulders and bouncing on his lap feverishly.
“Rumple,” you murmur.  Your voice catches against the torrent of stark need.  Every time you arch forward and feel him fill you up, it’s like your entire world sparkles and shimmers.  And every time you feel him slide away, a hole tears through your chest.
You’ve never felt so empowered or so driven.  It’s as if your entire mind is bent on lust and you can’t think of anything else.
“That’s right, dearie,” he murmurs, pitching forward to kiss your shoulder.  He moves his lips up your neck and tightens his hold on your ass, squeezing it with every thrust. 
Your breasts bounce as you surrender to the depths of this fiery passion, uncaring about the sight you make or the fact that you’d normally be blushing bright red over it.  All you can think about is the way he fills you up, the way he grips at your ass like he’s trying to make you go even faster, the way he suddenly pulls back to focus his attention of your chest.
The breathy moan that slips passed your throat make his cock twitch inside you.  It’s a beautiful sound – almost whiny.  He chuckles against your breast, mouth moving to pull a nipple into his mouth, and he thinks he might actually come right then and there when you moan again and cry out his name.
The spell must have made you hyper sensitive because you’re not usually this responsive to his ministrations.  Every twist of his tongue and harsh suck makes you keen and clutch his head harder.  You pull him against you, loving every moment as he lavishes attention on your breasts and rolls your other nipple between his fingers.  He’s not being gentle with you tonight but for some reason, it makes you ache all the more for him and he seems to know it.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that this is something you need in order to break whatever spell he accidentally placed on you.  But to be honest, what he’s mostly feeling is how much he needs this too – how desperately aroused you’re making him and how he feels like he’s seconds away from finishing.
He can’t have that.  He wants to take your edge away completely, give you the most fulfilling sex you’ve ever experienced and make sure you’re utterly sated by the end of it.  It’s a strange thing, this selfless feeling, but he clings to it anyway even though it goes slightly against his nature.
You’ve always had that effect on him.
With a burst of sudden strength, Rumple stops your hectic thrusts, gives your breast one last hard suck, and pulls away.  You blink down at him through the haze of lust and are about to ask why he’s halted your movements when he takes you off guard once more.  Suddenly he’s spinning you around, hooking his arm around your waist and lowering you onto the couch beside his body.  And you’re frowning over at him like he’s just told you the worst news ever.
He chuckles at your expression and squeezes your thigh.  “Spread your legs for me, dearie,” he murmurs to you, and it’s like the world instantly brightens.
You grin happily and do so, unable to be embarrassed about your brashness.  The promise of more sex seems to make everything better and he feels another strong wave of arousal thunder through him at the crass way you’re acting.  It’s so out of the ordinary that he finds he can’t get enough of it.
“Rumple, hurry up,” you whine, thighs parting wide for him.  He takes a brief moment to look at you, unsure if he’s ever seen you this needy.  Your cunt is absolutely glistening and he thinks he reaches out to trace a knuckle over your wet folds.
The shiver that rolls through you at his unexpected touch makes him ache.
“I want you to fill me up,” you complain, and he smirks.
“Do you now?” he wonders, and slowly pushes a finger into you, as far as he can.  The whimper you give him is devastating on his self control.  He adds another because he wants to hear more.
“Faster…go faster…” you pant, rocking your hips into his hand with abandon.
He lets you, unable to bring himself to halt your movements.  You look absolutely stimulated and it doesn’t appear as if you can help yourself.  You’re on auto-pilot, letting your body move on its own as you lose yourself to fantasy and spell work.
He leans down between your legs and kisses your cunt, giving it a little suck as he tastes you.  The way you immediately moan and buck your hips into his face makes him growl with barely contained arousal and go in for more.  Before he knows what he’s even doing, he’s licking and sucking at you as his fingers delve into your entrance and guide you toward your finish.
And what a finish it is.  You buck into him like you’re possessed, riding his fingers as if you absolutely can’t get enough of him.  His cock is rock hard as he unravels you.  He’d like nothing more than to ram himself inside you and fuck you until you’re bruised and motionless – but he waits.  He’s a patient man.  He waits until you’re almost screaming his name from the force of your orgasm, waits until he feels your inner walls spasm around his fingers, waits until you’re half gone from the lust – and only then does he pull away and nestle himself between your legs.
When he pushes his cock inside you again, the high of your orgasm returns at full force and you nearly sob at the perfect way he fills you.  It seems that this spell hasn’t only affected you tonight, because normally Rumple is a little gentler with you.  But it’s as if some dark part of him as returned and he can’t sequester it away anymore.  He doesn’t even try to.
His hips bruise you as he thrusts into you, setting a relentless pace that leaves you drowning into the couch.  You stare up at him in a daze as another orgasm threatens to burn you into pieces and can’t possibly stop the moans from filling the room.
“Rumple…fuck yes, fuck – oh God – “
Has he ever been this aroused?  He doesn’t think so.  He feels himself slipping, feels his finish pounding through him as if he’s standing on the very edge of a precipice looking down.  You heave beneath him, trying to buck into his hips and only just managing it.  He’s in complete control, now more than ever.  He can’t think of a time when he’s ever wanted sex so badly.
“Rumple!” you cry, feeling a second wind as another orgasm rips through your.  You spasm, hips wriggling against him as your head tips back. 
The sight of you losing yourself with such abandon is probably what does it for him, though to be honest it’s hard to say.  It could also be the tight, controlled thrusts or the controlling power he enforces upon you as he tips you over the edge.  It could be any of those things or something else entirely, but whatever it is, it’s certainly potent enough to make him groan and spill himself inside you.
The heat of his finish burns right through you and leaves you a gasping mess.  You pant and watch him as he comes.  He’s never been more attractive than he is now as he fills you up.
“God…” you whisper, throat dry.  Suddenly you feel as if you’ve run a marathon without a drop of water.
Your body aches, but it’s such a delicious kind of ache that it just makes you feel boneless.  You slip down into the couch with a deep, satisfied sigh.  Above you, Rumple sighs too, his voice curving over a chuckle that sounds half exasperated, half pleased.
“Feel better?” he wonders shakily, feeling just as exhausted as you.
“Mmm…” you moan, then open your arms up expectantly.  The corner of his mouth tilts up at your silent demand.
“I think we should move upstairs, dearie.  I’m too old to sleep on a couch,” he tells you, and you moan again.  This time because the thought of moving is wildly unappealing.
“Come on,” he says, patting your thigh with a chuckle.  It takes tremendous effort to sit up.  How you even manage to walk up the stairs goes beyond you.
All you know is that once you’re in bed and snuggled up to Rumple, sleep drags you down so deeply that you don’t even dream at all.  There are no nightmares tonight; just memories of you and him and everything in between.

Extended Ending

You wake up in a blur, as if the world is just a haze of mismatched color.  It gives you a bit of a headache.  You almost feel like you’re hung over.  On top of that, you’re so sore that every time you move, you cringe.
“Oh my God,” you groan into the pillow.  Why are you so sore?  You can’t quite remember.  You’re still half asleep and would like to stay that way.  The other person in the room doesn’t seem to care though, and the sound of muffled chuckling makes you frown.
You sit up to tell Rumple off, but as you do the sheets fall away and you realize how extremely naked you are.  As in, not a shred of clothing.  A blush heats your face as you connect the dots. 
The memories don’t take long to spiral through you after that, and your blush intensifies to a deep red.
“Oh my God,” you mutter again, this time because suddenly you can remember everything.  Every brash word you’d said, every lustful crazed movement – and it’s so out of character for you that you don’t even know what to say.
Rumple does though, as usual.
“You’ve been sleeping for hours.  I finally thought I should make sure you were still alive,” he says from the doorway.  You turn to glower at him and grab the sheets, pulling them back over you. 
As you fall back into bed and bury your blushing face into the pillows, you mutter, “How kind of you.”
He chuckles again, as if he is endlessly amused with you. 
“Are you alright?” he asks after a moment of silence.  “…I could whip you up a headache cure if you’d like.”
The suggestion makes you glare at him.  “No.  No more of your spells.  I don’t trust you anymore.”
Rumple has the decency to look at least a little guilty.  (A little being the keyword.)  “Suit yourself,” he shrugs, and smirks at you, “But don’t say you didn’t enjoy yourself last night, dearie.”  His smirk widens when you hide your face in the blankets.
“Just go make me breakfast,” you mumble, not wanting to get up with him standing watching you like a hawk.  You hear him scoff at you.
“It’s lunchtime.  You slept the whole morning and most of the afternoon.”
The news make you jolt up again with shocked eyes.  A quick glance at the clock tells you he’s right – it’s nearly two thirty.  You really did sleep the entire day away.
You groan and lay back down.  “This is your entire fault.  I can’t believe I acted like some savage whore.” 
The memories are still cycling through you and with each new one, your embarrassment grows. 
But Rumple just hums and slowly says, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Cat.  To be honest, I’m not sure why we’ve never done that before.”
There’s something in his voice that makes you pause.  It’s almost as if he’s planning on delving headfirst into learning more aphrodisiac magic.  You narrow your eyes at him and say, “Don’t even think about it, Rumple.”
But he just winks at you and turns away, chuckling at your blushing face.  He’s definitely going to keep this particular spell for future use, once he convinces you of course.  Somehow he doubts it will take much persuasion.
You sigh and grumble to yourself as he disappears. 



  1. This so just made my day!! Rumple is pretty amazing and he has that darkness to him that just draws you in.

  2. Absolutely brilliant, I am totally okay with this so long as it has nothing to do with Belle. Keep on writing, I need to keep on checking for updates since I missed this and the other two you did recently, tricky Rumple!

  3. Whaaa!! So amazing, you are a great writer!! Perhaps you could do a Peter Pan next!! >.<