Page 20 of Rumpelstilzchen

Rumple was in uncharted territory. Had he ever found himself genuinely interested in learning about anyone before? He couldn’t recall that he had. Humans were something to terrorise, not care for—as had been his intention when he’d first entered Boy’s cell last night. He had wanted to strike fear into the hearts of the new prisoners, yet here he was, a day later, washing the dirt from his skin over a sense of guilt at having sullied him.

It wasn’t until the damp from Boy’s pink tongue seeped through the damask of his breeches that Rumple realised their intimate position. At some point, he’d positioned his legs wide to flank Boy, who had taken it as an invitation to nuzzle at the undeniable outline of his cock through the thick fabric. Given Rumple’s encouragement last night, he couldn’t blame Boy for mistaking this genuine oversight on his part.

He should have told him to stop, but the sight of Boy’s naked flesh and trusting expression rooted Rumple to the spot.

Boy was his Heart, and by rights his to claim. Yet he couldn’t—not until he found a way to break Queen Schön’s hold on him. Rumple also needed to discover how to claim the still beating heart of a human. Reluctantly, he tore himself away and commanded his magick to fuel a fire that filled the nearby hearth.

Boy’s soft keening sound morphed into one of hurt confusion. “What do you w-want from me?” he stuttered when the spell between them was broken. Something he hadn’t done earlier when he spoke of his home. Rumple was taken by the wholesome image of Boy one day being able to speak with him in that same, unguarded way.

But his question, the same one he had asked the night before, caused Rumple to hesitate. What did he want?

He couldn’t possess Boy—not how he needed to—not yet. But Boy had asked him what he wanted.

Rumple wanted Boy on his knees. He wanted his easy subjugation, but for the first time in his existence, he wanted to earn it, not take it.

Boy’s tongue darted out once more to lick his lips, and the flicker of it sparked heat deep within Rumple that was nothing to do with the fire that had taken beside him. He couldn’t shake the memory of Boy’s soft skin. He flexed his fingers and imagined Boy’s body yielding to him.

Rumple gestured for him to approach. “Come here.”

Slowly and carefully, Boy rose to his feet. Only the smallest amount of water sloshed over the lip of the basin and onto the wooden floor. His wet skin glistened in the firelight, and when he covered his soft cock with his hands, Rumple thought it endearing. Their short time together had taught him that Boy preferred it when he had an instruction to follow, and if that’s what helped his Heart feel at ease in his presence, then that’s what Rumple would do. “Pour me a drink.”

A tray with a bottle of apple brandy and a cut glass tumbler appeared on a small table that hadn’t been there before.

Rumple could see Boy was nervous—it was in the way his knees knocked together ever so slightly when he took that first step—but he was also brave. His breaths were shallow, but he fought to keep his composure despite the bite of fear that evidently still ate away at him.

When he drew up alongside, his fingers trembled, but what caught Rumple unprepared was how Boy’s warm brown eyes flicked up to meet his for reassurance. A simple nod was all Rumple offered, yet the enormity of the gesture seared like a brand.

The space where Rumple’s Heart should have been swelled as he watched Boy do as he was told without spilling a drop.

“Kneel.” The authority in his voice sent a visible shudder through Boy’s body. He sank to his knees upon the wooden floor, and Rumple knotted a hand in his wet curls. “Are you hungry?”

Boy could only nod when Rumple’s shadows set a small platter of food before him.

Similar to the night before, it displayed some cracker bread, soft cheese, grapes, and this time hazelnuts were added. He watched Boy’s eyes rove over the treats, and he knew what he was searching for, but he wouldn’t add the fruit until Boy asked. He was a fast learner, so Rumple didn’t think it would take long.

“Do you want to eat?”

Boy's cheeks burned when his stomach growled in desperation, and he nodded again.

“Will you let me feed you?” At his words, Boy pressed his face into Rumple’s thigh and nodded against the strong muscles beneath the soft fabric like a cat or dog might have done if they could have tolerated his presence.

Rumple’s gaze was drawn to the smattering of fine freckles across Boy’s shoulders, and he traced over them with gloved fingers before his warm hand spanned his back. He felt Boy’s heartbeat quicken.

“Use your words.” He let his hand slide further down.

“Please,” Boy croaked out.

Rumple smirked, and his fingers traced a slow and torturous path from Boy’s spine to the quivering muscles of his ribs. Boy jerked, and a soft moan escaped. He was glad now, that he had lit the fire. Not for his benefit, but for Boy’s. This late into autumn, the temperature dropped quickly once the sun had set, but with the crackling heat from the logs, Rumple could indulge in Boy without risking his health.

His hand roamed further still, with a firmer touch that he knew would spark Boy’s nerves. Boy gasped, and his body tensed involuntarily. Rumple’s hands stilled, and for the longest time, he did nothing. Not until he felt the tension drain from his body did he slide his hand onto Boy’s chest. Boy tensed again. With each movement, he was learning about the boy who held his Heart, and he suspected that Boy was learning about himself too.

“Please what?” Rumple’s voice was dark and smooth like whiskey.

“Please, f-feed me.” His words were soaked in surrender, and Rumple exhaled in satisfaction.

Boy needed Rumple like he needed food. They were inevitable.

As a reward, Rumple conjured a Royal Garden strawberry and brushed the tip teasingly over Boy’s parted lips. Then he held it still. Again Boy looked to him for permission before biting the fruit off at the stem. His eyes fluttered shut as he chewed slowly to savour the taste, but Rumple knew that Boy couldn’t exist on strawberries alone, that he needed other food too.