Chapter Text
“Come to bed.”
“I think you’ll find I already have.”
“Come to bed, you insufferable pedant,” Belle repeated. She sat up, one hand sinking down into the mattress behind her to support her weight, the other finding its way to Gold’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze to get his attention.
“I have something I need to do first, sweetheart.”
“I know, but it’s not what you think it is,” she purred. He huffed and snickered softly, but when she slid her hand closer to his nape to idly scratch, the sound of his laughter turned just the faintest bit strained, and she saw the muscles of his back shift under his skin. He slept shirtless. Belle appreciated that.
When she suggested they head to bed and he agreed to come up in five minutes, she hadn’t expected her Gold to bring up a stack of papers with him. She didn’t even really fully register it at first, because he’d walked into the room and put them on the dresser so he could start unbuttoning his shirt, and how was she supposed to notice anything else in the room when he did that? Big hands deftly and swiftly undoing button after button, revealing more and more skin until the shirt slid from his shoulders and fell to a chair next to the dresser. He didn’t look at her (if he had, he would have seen her ogling him over the edge of her book, biting down on her appreciative if slightly lecherous smirk) but Belle suspected he knew she was watching. Why else take off his shirt in front of her and then disappear into the adjoining bathroom to put on his pajama bottoms? Either way, she appreciated it. But then he had come back out of the bathroom and instead of launch himself at her (which Belle thought was rather the point of coming to bed) he sat cross-legged on the bed with the stack of papers in his lap, a pen in his hand, and a look on his face Belle recognized as the usual look of simultaneous amusement and disappointment he always seemed to have whenever he was faced with a student’s obvious incomprehension of anything he’d been trying to teach them all semester long.
“Don’t you have assistants to deal with that?”
“They’ve got their own deadlines at the moment,” he muttered, not even affording her a quick, acknowledging glance.
“But why do you have to do it now?” she almost whined, shutting her book and putting it aside.
“Because I tried to do it earlier, but you wouldn’t let me then, either. Remember?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you not enjoy yourself, then?”
She wasn’t playing fair and she knew it, but really now, why couldn’t he just get someone else to do it? What’s the point of being this mysteriously wealthy and intimidating figure if you’re not going to take advantage of your power in order to shirk your responsibilities and have a little fun? And alright, perhaps she’d been a little bit demanding today, when she had dragged him to the park with a promise to let him get started on those papers while she read up on the cities they planned to visit and they ended up making out like a couple of teenagers behind a tree instead, but he could have said no. He never said no.
He sighed, but as she moved to sit up and scooted down the bed a little bit to sit nearer, she could see his mouth twitch up into a grin. He always knew when she was toying with him, but that was the thing about them; this play fighting, the teasing – it was just how they liked it. And oh, sure, he would grumble and roll his eyes and pretend not to pick up on her hints, or tease her; wind her up and make her feel like she was a sexually insatiable force of nature, but that’s just how they played together. Until, of course, the game was up and they crashed into one another with unspeakable force. They were inevitable. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You know fully well I did. I don’t even mind the grass stains on my suit,” he muttered, his grin growing wider. “But I really have to start making a dent in these, love. It’s getting urgent. Just give me twenty more minutes, and I’m all yours.”
“Twenty?” she asked, indignant. “I’ll give you fifteen. Starting right now.”
“Fine, my little tyrant. Fifteen it is.”
She kissed his shoulder as if to seal the deal, and blindly reached for one of many books that had somehow gradually made it from her bookshelf at home to the nightstand next to his bed in the span of a week. Fifteen minutes of reading. Hm. She could swing that. Probably. Well, it would have helped if the book she was reading wasn’t quite so dry. Heaven knows Belle was more than an avid reader, but literature simply took a back seat with him so close and warm and half naked and her sights set on him. Belle was many things, but impatient had never been one of them – that was, until this man had kissed her on that rooftop and left her wanting more, much more, and it always came on quick and strong like a sudden gust of wind that almost knocked her off her feet. Each and every time. She’d be going about her business, and then suddenly she’d just want him, and that was the first wave, which was intense enough, but then, oh God, that second wave. That second wave of knowing she could just have him. That was something else.
Fifteen minutes. Well. Perhaps not? She kept the book in her hand, with her thumb between the pages for a makeshift bookmark, and reached out with her other hand to trace his spine with a single fingertip – from the small of his back sliding slowly up, leaving goosebumps.
“Belle,” he warned, voice low and textured; the exact opposite of the deterrent it was meant to be.
“You know,” she started with a small, theatrical sigh, “I always liked it when I came into your office and you were working on something. Grading papers or whatever it was you were doing. Because you’d look up, and you’d smile, and you’d tell me to have a seat, but then you’d take a minute to finish up, and I could just watch you work.”
Nothing but the sound of his pen scratching against the paper. Her hand at his nape, now, Belle drew circles on the skin.
“Did you ever notice me staring while you were doing that?”
“Can’t say I did.”
“Well. I couldn’t look away,” she continued, tangling her fingers in his soft hair. “You looked so focused, you know? Stern. Strict. I loved watching you strike out entire paragraphs. Know what my favorite part was?”
“Can’t imagine.”
“When you’d finished, and you put down your pen, and you looked up at me and for a second there, you still had that sort of angry, critical, intense look on your face. That look just... did something to me.”
She couldn’t hear his pen move against the paper anymore. She had him hooked. Now to reel him in. She released his hair, pulled her hand back and opened her book again to glue her eyes to the page, knowing fully well she wasn’t going to read a single word.
“I wanted you to look at me like that and pull me up from that chair to bend me over your desk.”
Check. The stack of papers and his pen fell to the floor and then he was on her – one hand encircling her wrist, the other snatching away her book and placing it open and face down on the night stand (didn’t want her to lose her place – how very considerate of him) but then his hands were at her hips, and his fingers sank into the flesh as he pulled her further down the bed. Her heart beating loudly in her chest, Belle wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down so she could breathe in the scent of him and let it drive her over the brink with lust, but she couldn’t. Because before she could move, he had both her wrists caught in one of his hands, gently but firmly pushed into the mattress above her head. The other hand creeped up her leg, sliding up between her thighs and she grinned and refused to part them, because she liked to be a little contrary sometimes. She loved the look in his eyes when he caught on that she was very much planning on being just the tiniest bit devious, that she was in the mood to tease and be challenged in return. So when he laughed – low and dark and dangerous – and tried to push his hand further up between her thighs, Belle giggled and pressed them even closer together. Keeping him there. Trapping him. Making sure he couldn’t pull back, challenging him to try and move closer to where, really, they both wanted that hand to be.
“So, this is what you want, then?”
She grinned, quirked an eyebrow and gave him a slow, exaggerated nod. Big softie acting like it was a rhetorical question and he wasn’t seriously making sure. Even with that crooked smirk, that gruff voice and those dark, meaningful eyes making her squirm under his intense stare, he wasn’t about to let her forget that she was in control and could call him to heel like a faithful dog any time she wanted, and fuck, he was perfect. She lost the game when he leaned down and grazed his teeth against her neck; she gasped and his hand slid up and right where she needed it, a shock to her system, making her buck towards him and breathe in sharp between her teeth. He chuckled again and pulled away from her neck, giving her an amused look, but he was clearly affected by the shameless state of her; his lips slightly parted and his eyes glazed over with lust.
“Already, hm?”
“Touching you does that to me,” she breathed with a little shrug and a smirk.
“Does it, now?”
“Mm. Anywhere. If I touch you anywhere, it feels electric,” she murmured. And it’s only ever been that way with you. But she didn’t voice that. She knew that if she did, he would soften, lose that fire in his eyes and the edge to his voice and melt into her. He would release her wrists and gently wrap his arms around her instead. Which was wonderful, really, when he did that. She adored his softness. But good God she liked where this was heading, and she wasn’t about to derail that train, so with a faint husky quality to her voice and a smirk pulling her lips crooked, she added, “Professor.”
Well that seemed to have surprised him, with his eyebrows raised and incredulous laughter bursting from his lips for just a brief moment until he fell silent and stared her right down, his hand perfectly still between her thighs even as she tried to move her hips to either find some friction or spur him on. His gorgeous dark eyes like an endless source of warmth pinned her in place even more effectively than his hands did, and when he licked his lips, Belle couldn’t help but buck up against him again.
“You’ve done enough touching for now, Ms. French,” he growled. And some part of her would surely be ashamed for being that turned on by their little role play (is it still role play when at one point, it had been a reality?) if anyone were ever to find out, but this was just him and her alone – their perfect, dirty, beautiful secret – and with his fingers finally inside her and his dark stare burning hot on her face, there was not a single coherent thought left in her mind. Just him.
He teased and and pulled her strings one by one for God knows how long, and she writhed and moaned and pleaded for more, because that was exactly the person she was with him – shameless and eager and unstoppable. His one hand was hot between her thighs, the other still pinned her wrists, and his mouth was at her ear murmuring encouragements and nipping at all her sensitive spots, until she came hard with her teeth sinking into his shoulder and his little hiss of pain muffled in the crook of her neck.
Out of breath, sweating, Belle opened her eyes to find her lover gazing down at her, his eyes a deep black in the soft bedroom lamplight, traveling over her face as if he were looking for something. Slowly, he loosened the grip on her wrists, but she didn’t really think to move at all; her arms simply relaxed and stayed there, up over her head.
“Alright?”
She nodded and murmured a soft, “Fantastic,” making him smile. As he moved up over her to brush his lips against one wrist and then the other, Belle noticed a red, indented mark on his shoulder and gasped softly at the sight. She didn’t break the skin or anything, and she really hadn’t bitten that hard, but she hadn’t realized and, God, the things he brought out in her were just... To think she had that in her all this time. Just waiting for the right person to come along and open the floodgates.
“I’m sorry about that, lover,” she murmured, brushing a fingertip over the shallow imprint of her teeth. He hummed low in his throat and mumbled, “No matter. I’ve had my rabies shot.”
“Oh ha ha ha,” she said, trying very hard to approach his well-practiced deadpan delivery, but the laughter hiding in her chest threatened to bubble up regardless; audible just under the surface of her voice. He didn’t scoff when she called him ‘lover’ anymore. It hadn’t taken that long for him to adjust to it, all things considered. Good. It suited him, because that was exactly what he was. Who he was.
“I think I rather liked it, anyway. Ferocious.”
Did he now? That was good to know. He tugged the hem of the oversized t-shirt she used as a nightgown back down her thighs, but then slid his arms around her, rolled over and pulled her on top of him with a devious smirk. She squealed in surprise.
“Don’t you have papers to grade? I thought it was ‘getting urgent’?” she purred, moving to sit up and straddle his thighs.
“Yes, well, I’ve had a chance to reconsider my priorities.”
“So you’re coming to bed?” she asked, an eyebrow raised and a smug grin on her face. His hands slid up her thighs a little bit, fingertips disappearing just under the hem of her shirt. She pushed her palms into his chest and leaned on him, at which he produced an exaggerated oomph, prompting her to roll her eyes. He laughed at her reaction but it was affectionate, not cruel, and she smiled right back.
“Mm. I’ll do it on the way to the airport and toss them out the window somewhere near campus if I have to.”
“Good. Your fifteen minutes are up, anyway,” she teased.
“But I barely got five minutes of grading done before-” he started and trailed off, confusion clearly legible in his face; deep lines in his forehead, his eyes narrowed. She giggled and slid her hands further down his chest, letting her fingertips ghost over his stomach. God, Belle loved it when she had him stumped. She saw him swallow and his tongue flick out against his lips, and then the tension in his face melted away to make place for a look of sudden realization, and, “Oh.” Finally.
“Fifteen minutes until you were all mine, remember? How you used those fifteen minutes was all up to you,” Belle lilted, hooking her fingers just below his waistband, leaning the weight of her upper body on his hips that way.
“You’re a clever little terror, aren’t you?”
She nodded, grinning like mad until he took her wrists and swept her arms out from under her, making her come crashing down to his chest with a little squeal and a giggle. Their fingers interlaced and her lips against the skin of his neck, his pulse fluttering underneath, she shifted her legs and hips to cover him completely and felt him hard against her thigh.
“You love it, really.”
“Always.”