WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING***WARNING
THIS IS RATED M FOR A REASON. DON'T READ IF YOU'RE NOT INTO IT. I REPEAT, THIS IS RATED M. MATURE CONTENT.
Special thanks to Rayvah and Munkinette for the support and encouragement. You guys are awesome.
Here goes nothing….
It was the most amazing sight. His son and his girlfriend – he still had a hard time to believe that Belle was really his, and that knowledge never ceased to send a shiver of pleasure down in spine – together in the kitchen of their house, cooking dinner. As far as he was concerned his and Bae´s house was also Belle's, even if she didn't live there. Taking advantage of their distraction, Anthony stood at the entrance of the kitchen, casually leaning against the door frame, searing that perfect image in his mind.
He never believed that such happiness was reserved for him. Things still feel dream-like and a bit unreal and this last three weeks of being Belle's boyfriend did nothing to dissipate that feeling, not at all. After their first intense, passionate kiss at the wedding and his sudden realization that he was not willing to let her go, things settle into a more gradual pace. Belle was not some casual fling, someone he lusted for, used and then went they separate ways. To him Belle was True Love, his happily-ever-after, and he was hers, as long as she would have him. Just the thought of losing her and enough to leave him feeling shaken and with trouble breathing. So they decided to slow things down until the time was right and that was proving to be a problem. Sex was not something he thought he would miss. He was not that experienced and, unfortunately, what he remembered more vividly about it was the awkwardness of the act itself and, afterwards, a sense of shame and embarrassment as his wife told him in no uncertain terms how inadequate he was at pleasing her. He tried, time and again, to be better. He remembered that one day, desperate and hurting, he begged her to tell him, to teach him how to please her, what to do, his voice thick with unshed tears. The sound of her shrill laughter hit him like a slap. Hell, a slap, a kick, a bullet to the fucking head would have been nicer. But no, not Vera. She was many things but nice was definitely not one of them.
After that he pretty much gave up on sex. That was, until Belle came into his life, changing things, changing him, forever. He has been alone for so long that he managed to forget what was like to want someone. But what surprised him, what scared him was how desperately he needed Belle's touch, Belle's body pressed against his, welcoming his embrace, rocking against him while he thrust, faster and harder and deeper with abandonment , the merging of body and heart and soul. He burned for her, his desire so intense that denying it, fighting against it left him trembling and strained. And there lied the problem, there lied his fear: he never desired anyone as he desire Belle, with an intense, animalistic urge he never knew he possessed. And that terrified him. Desire, longing, fear, passion, need, all mingled together, making him burn. The truth, he realized, was that he was a beast, an animal with animalistic drives and, in the few times their time together lead to more intense activities it was almost impossible to tame the beast within, to prevent himself from tearing her clothes with his bare hands, biting and clawing at the tender softness of her flesh, marking her as his. Just the thought was enough to leave him lightheaded with the surge of lust that rushed through his body. That was, until the disgust at himself grounded him. Belle wanted him, of that he was sure, but she most certainly wouldn't want that kind of animalistic, uncontrollable urges. She would want tenderness, loving caresses and slow, gentle attentions.
It was a constant source of preoccupation and stress and a part of him, the rational, mature part of him knew that he was probably overthinking and blowing things out of proportion, but the small, beaten part of his heart was afraid of failing yet again, of being unable to please the woman he love or worse, scare her off with his clumsy, ferocious need of her. He was so inexperienced it was ridiculous. She will think him ridiculous and that will most certainly destroy him.
Angrily shaking his head he berated himself. That specific train of thought lead exactly nowhere and he was an utter fool for spending time, precious time, worrying about the complete mess his love-live was while he could be enjoying himself in the company of the people he loved most in the world. With that thought in mind he decided to step in:
"That smells delicious." Anthony said, stepping away from the threshold and joining Bae and Belle at the kitchen counter. He pecked his boy on the cheek and then faced Belle, leaning in to claim her lips, his senses suddenly assaulted by the beauty, the perfection that was everything that she was. Like always he had to fight hard against the urge to deepen the kiss, against the need to mold his body to hers, his mind screaming and rebelling against the thought of not having her in his arms, just for a little while longer. Or forever. Forever would be very nice too.
"Thank you so much, good sir." Belle replied, laughing. Glancing at Bae and noticing he was not paying attention she whispered in Anthony's ear. "And you smell delicious too."
Anthony, of course, blushed furiously but the wave of love and longing the washed over him suppressed the shyness quite well.
"Minx." He purred, marveling on the smile she shot him while swatting his arm.
"If you guys are done making up I could use some help around here. " Bae tried –and failed –to sound annoyed. The truth was that he was beyond happy. Belle was all he had hoped for and more and the sight of his father, blushing and smiling and happy and wonderful.
"Yes. Right." Belle stammered, breaking the heated stare she was sharing with Anthony. "I will start laying the table and you guys finish here, ok?"
Anthony was shrugging of his jacket and rolling his shirtsleeves while Belle was picking up dishes and glasses. Anthony watched her move, her grace was effortless, she walked as if she was dancing. It was getting harder and harder to get his eyes off of her, to prevent himself of jumping on her. Only the certainty that she would not welcome his desperate attentions quenched his desire. Well, that and the fact that Bae was around. The presence of his boy was the best way to prevent him from embarrassing himself, even if at times it was frustrating. The word 'cock-block' spring into mind. And thank God for that.
While he was lost in thought, yet again, Bae and Belle resumed the conversation they were having when he arrived. Something about some movie they saw earlier. Of course that that conversation lead to one about who their favorite actors were. And that one lead to one about what their favorite movies were. By then they were laughing, faking outrage at the other one choices.
"You can't be serious." Bae exclaimed, disbelief tinging his words.
"Oh, but I am dead serious." Belle replied, with mock severity. "Alan Rickman is the single, most sexy man, graced with the voice of a god, in the world!." After a second of pause she added. "Well, except of your father of course."
"Whoa, too much information Belle. I really didn't need to hear that." Bae cringed.
Anthony, of course, heard the whole exchange. And blushed like a schoolgirl. I blushed more in these weeks with Belle that I had in my entire life, he thought, a content smile playing in his lips. Watching his son and his girlfriend - teasing each other; sharing tasks; the way she ruffled Bae's hair or how Bae beamed at Belle - was amazing, like a dream come true. When he started to fall in love with Belle, the thing he wanted the most was not claiming her body, the physical pleasure that such relationship might bring. It was this, right here. A family. Their house filled with light and warmth and laughter and happiness and love. That was his dream and Belle made it come true. Watching Bae and Belle, the soft glow of the lights in the dining-room surrounding them, their eyes full of laughter and love, he never felt more in peace, more a part of something bigger than him.
"Dinner is ready!" Belle called, placing the stemming, homemade lasagna on the table.
"You guys really outdid yourselves." Anthony pointed out, taking his seat.
"I'm just happy that I finally had someone to help me with the cooking." Bae put in.
"Now, now. We have an agreement. You cook and I clean."
"Well, that just because you can't cook not even to save your life."
"I'll have you know I can make a killer cup of tea. Since I have to use to stove I'm pretty sure that counts as cooking."
Belle, with a very serious expression, answered: "I'm not so sure it works that way."
For a minute they just stare at each other. Then they started to laugh, bellowing actually, tears streaming down their faces. To Anthony's eyes Belle never looked more beautiful.
Not for the first time Anthony realized that he has been going through life as if he was colorblind, surrounded by all this different shades of gray, his son a sole beacon of pure white. And now he saw color. He never knew how much he was missing until Belle came and showed it to him. He was living for the very first time.
"Not that I am complaining, mind, but to what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise diner?" Anthony asked.
"Just chance I guess." Bae said. "I ran into Belle in the market and we sort of decided to throw a diner."
"Yeah, it was pretty random." Belle concurred. "I was taking a break from the manuscript, airing a bit, and then I saw Bae and we started talking and, voilà, here we are."
"Lucky me." Anthony beamed at her, thrilling at the way she smiled at him.
"Oh, that reminds me." Bae said, around a mouthful of lasagna. "Can I sleep over at Henry's? We're planning on watching a horror movie marathon. Can I? Please?" He begged, batting his eyelashes.
"Yes you can you little clown. But only if Emma and Jonathan agree."
"Henry already talked to them. Thanks dad." Bae grinned, excited. Only then Anthony realized, with a feeling akin to dread, that he was going to be alone, completely alone, with Belle for the very first time in his house. All those secret fantasies started to loop in his mind, the various, wonderful uses they could give to the living-room sofa, to that carpet in from of the fire-place, to the kitchen counter and, the most erotic fantasy of all, to his own bed. Suddenly the room started to feel very, very hot. And, crashing into him like a tidal wave, the now familiar sense of fright came creeping in again. She doesn't want to be with an animal, with a beast, he thought, with dismay and not a little bit of disgust, but I don't believe I will be able to help myself.
As if she was able to read his mind, Belle glanced his way, a strange, almost predatorily glint in her eyes. Anthony couldn't quite pin down what that look meant but there was no denial to the wave of lust rushing through him.
Bae, oblivious to this secret, charged moment, sighed loudly and said: "The lasagna was amazing and the company was great but now is time to take off. Need any help with the dishes?" He asked.
"Thank you boy but we got them. Behave. I know I am asking far too much but please, give it a try." Anthony asked tiredly, as if he was asking the sun to set on the west. You could try but it was pretty obvious you won't succeed.
"Very funny." Bar replied, dryly. "I see you guys tomorrow. He headed toward the front door, picking his jacket from the coatrack as he went, and just before he closed the door he added, slyly: "You guys have fun, ok?" And with a last, cheeky grin, he was off.
"That boy will be the death of me." Anthony said, grinning.
"You are one lucky father and you know it." Belle was approaching him, smiling softly. When she was at arm's reach, Anthony pulled her into a tight hug, whispering in her ear: "I'm one lucky father and one very lucky man." He inhaled deeply, basking in her scent, feeling her starting to tremble and sigh in his arms. This was dangerous ground so, with great reluctance, he let her go.
"Better get these dishes started." He said, lamely. For a moment he caught the look of disappointment on her face but that was quickly replaced by some other look, that same glint he saw just earlier, the one that made him think of a lioness watching her prey, biding her time. Shivers run down his spine and he felt a new surge of excitement and anticipation. Get a hold on yourself man! Focus! But it was not easy, not at all. His mind keep coming back to that one, terrifying fact: we are alone together, God have mercy .Bae wasn't in the next room or upstairs, his presence a brake that effectively stop him – them – from taking that last, final step.
"Are you going to help me out or what?" Belle asked, smiling. Her eyes were looking different, he noticed. Darker somehow.
"Of course love." He replied, making his way to the kitchen sink, grabbing a dish-rag.
They fell into a familiar, comfortable silence, the rushing of the water the only sound around them. It was easy, being with her, effortless. Peaceful, except for his now familiar fears. He was so caught up in the task at hand that he was unable so stifle a surprised yelp at the feeling of cold water splashing the front of his shirt.
"Oh my God I am so sorry. I'm such a klutz." Belle said, sounding worried, closing in on him. "Here, let me help you out of that shirt."
She started to slowly unbutton his shirt, her eyes locked with his. He felt as if he turned into stone, his mind screaming at him to do something, anything, but he was too transfixed to act. When her fingernails scrap lightly against the bare flesh of his chest he heard, as from a mile away, a whimper. His whimper. He felt himself stating to tremble, his control eroding quickly and he couldn't allow that to happen. He grabbed Belle's wrists, firmly yet gently, making her stop.
"God, Belle. You must stop, please. "His voice was low and husky.
"Why?" She asked. "Don't you want this?" Her voice was soft but questioning. Anthony tried to think of something to say, tried to come up with some excuse other than the ugly truth, but he couldn't lie, not to her.
"I'm afraid I'm going to lose control and hurt you. I never felt anything like this before and I'm terrified." He could hear his voice trembling and his eyes were stinging with unshed tears. The despair he felt was naked in his expression.
"Baby, you only hurt me if you keep me away. I trust you, I want you and I love you." She blushed at her confession. They hadn't arrived yet at the 'I love you' part but apparently her mouth had a mind of her own. She didn't need to worry though. The words were barely out of her mouth and Anthony was already saying 'I love you too', sounding breathless.
"Then why worry so much? I want to be with you, I want to make love to you. I don't want to wait anymore…. please?" And that was it, the sight of Belle flushed and out of breath, her hand again pressed against his naked chest, begging to be with him that finally threw him over the edge. He lounged forward, pinning her against the wall and claiming her lips. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her, tasting her, drinking her. His body was flushed against her, feeling the lush curves of her body pressed against his hard flesh. Belle was moaning against his mouth, her hips moving and rolling, pressing against his raging erection, making him growl. Somehow Belle managed to take his shirt off and he realized that he really wanted, no, needed, to feel her naked skin pressed against his. He started to quest after a zipper with only half his mind because, really, how was he supposed to concentrate when Belle was mewling and sighing with want, her hands roaming all over his body, scrapping with her nails trails of fire across his skin? But then, yes, he found it and pulled at it until her dress fell and pooled around her ankles. Belle gasped at the sudden sensation of cool air against hot skin. He took a small step back, admiring her utter perfection. He felt his mouth went dry at the sight of her, clad only in lacy, dark blue lingerie that enhanced, more that covered, the creamy, silky white skin of her lush body.
"Beautiful." He was able to whisper, his voice thin, before he gather her in his arms and, despite his bed leg, carry her, placing her on top of the dining room table. The need to just rip of her panties and bury himself in her, all the way to the hilt in one single thrust, was almost overwhelming. Seeing her sprawled on the table, wearing close to nothing, looking lovingly at him, waiting for him to join her, was almost more than he could take. He step forward, her legs parting to cradle him between her thighs, and started to kiss her, slowly. He needed to move slowly or else he would lose it. He kiss her eyes, her lips, her jaw, her neck, feather-light kisses and gentle, languid caresses, barely touching her at all. He could feel her muscle tremble beneath his fingertips; the hotness, sweetness of her breath against the skin of his neck; her own hands traveling across his back, his chest, moving up and cradling the nape of his neck, grabbing fistfuls of his hair; the hotness of her core pressed tight against the fabric of his pants, aligned with his strained erection. The desire was so great, the physical, emotional closeness so alien to him, so unlike anything he had ever felt or dreamed of that he felt close to climaxing right there and then. Just the knowledge that he would die of pure mortification prevented it from happening. He was so focused at exploring and ravishing every inch of uncovered, delicious flesh, he almost jumped out of his own skin when Belle's small hand cupped his length trough his trousers. His hips bucked involuntarily against her hand and he bite down on her neck to stifle his hoarse cry.
"Belle ,..love,… if you don't stop that I will be over before I even start." He managed to say through gritted teeth.
"But I want to touch you." She pouted, and Dear Lord, the thought of those full lips wrapped around his cock came unbidden into his mind. He moved then, lightning fast, and pushed her down, her back flat against the table.
"Me first." He demanded against the skin of her collarbone, between hot, wet kisses. He was still much too aware of his inexperience but now, with his blood rushing through his body, Belle willing and wanting, things seemed somehow easier. He was inexperienced but, at the same time, he was eager, oh so eager to please. As he travel lower and lower across Belle's body he focused on her reactions, paying special attention to the spots that make her sigh or moan or cry out in pleasure. Somewhere along the way he managed to get rid of her lacy bra and, with a sense of ecstasy, took one pink nipple into his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue, pulling at it with his teeth. Belle hand shot to the back of his head, holding him in place, moaning with abandon. The creaminess of her skin, the slightly salty taste of her was driving him mad. Not able to wait any longer he continued his way downwards, letting his nails scarp across her ribcage, making her tremble. The air was heavy with the scent of her arousal and he was helpless to stop from tracing the flat of his tongue along her dripping entrance, tasting her completely for the very first time. Their moans mingled together, Belle hips bucking into his willing mouth.
"Oh, God baby. Don't stop." She half-cried, half-sobbed.
As if he would be able to stop, as if he would want to stop. Ever. He lapped at her, lost in her exquisite taste, his whole world shrinking and contracting until nothing more mattered, nothing more existed besides her. He tried to pace himself, he did, truly, but he couldn't. He started to increase his pace, tongue, lips and teeth exploring her with desperation. He sensed that Belle was approaching the edge, her body starting to tense, her hips bucking uncontrollably, and, without slowing his pace, he plunged on finger into her wetness, thrusting at rhythm with the flickers of his tongue. He was acting purely on instinct, Belle's pleasure his sole goal in life. He added a second finger, then a third, going faster and faster as her cries grow louder and louder. He started to feel her inner walls contracting and relaxing and, with one final scream, Belle climaxed, trembling and shaking, her walls clamped tightly across his fingers. But now, as Belle slowly recover from her orgasm, his own need started to demand, quite insistently, to be quenched. He get rid of his pants, feeling a little embarrassed and self-conscious at being naked in front of Belle, although the look she gave him seemed quite appraising. He aligned with her entrance, the length of his cock sliding in her juices. He waited, tense, for her permission, needing her approval. Belle just smiled brilliantly at him, her eyes shiny and glazed. That was all he needed. With a smooth motion he buried himself in her, his control slipping, reeling, spinning away. He was so dreadfully close, he did the only thing he could think off: placed his whole weight on his bad leg, using the white-hot jolt of pain that run through him to help him regain his grip on himself. He remained motionless, buried deep within Belle, his head thrown back, his eyes shut tight.
"So hot… so tight…" He managed to whisper, his voice thick with desire.
Belle started to squirm beneath him, wriggling her hips. He growled low in his throat and started to thrust, slow and deep. The feeling was unbelievable. He willed himself to keep it slow, sweet, but it was so very hard to hold on. Belle was moaning his name, urging him, telling him how good he felt within her, driving him crazy. He kept pressure on his bad leg, trying to last as long as he could, wanting to bring Belle over the edge one more time. She thrust with him, matching his pace.
"God…faster…Please baby…harder…" She panted, between moans and little cries of pleasure. And, really, how was he supposed to deny such request? Anthony changed his position slightly, bending forward a little to get a better grip on her tights and snapped his hips forward, going deeper and faster, making her cry out, beg, curse, claw at him.
"Yes…please…faster….oh baby….oh GOD!"
He thrust harder still, his climax approaching rapidly, and, using that not-quite instinct, not-quite intuition that seemed to have been guiding his actions, he hooked one of her legs on his shoulder, changing the angle of his thrust. He watched, bewildered, as Belle back arched away from the table, her mouth opened in a silent cry, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Her orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, her pulsing body pushing him over the edge of pleasure and he was unable to do anything but scream, a wordless, ragged cry that drowned Belle's own. He was vaguely aware that Belle sat up on the table, legs hooked tightly around his waist and hug him, fiercely. He hugged her back, his lips blindly looking for hers. He felt her breasts pressed against his chest, he sensed more than heard, her moans vibrate through his whole body when she caught her own taste in his tongue. He was still buried deep within her, his cock still hard. Gathering his strength, he picked Belle up and, half-walked, half-stumble across the dining room until he collapsed on the couch, Belle straddling him. She leaned back careful not to let his length slide off of her and started to pet his hair, playing with the gray strands. Anthony's hands were placed at her hips, keeping her close.
"See, baby? You had nothing to worry about." She whispered, leaning closer and trailing kisses across his jaw. "I want all of you. The rough and the soft. I want you to fuck me on the dining room table and I want to ride you within an inch of your live on the couch." He could feel her hot breath against his ear, making him shiver, his cock twitching inside her. He grabbed forcefully at her hips, grinding her against him, making her smile against his hot skin. She started to move slowly, raising and lowering her body, twisting her hips in the most maddening way, taking him deeper and deeper. Her eyes were locked with his, her hands trailed across him, her fingernails scrapping his nipples, making him shudder. He couldn't look away, his own hands moved nonstop, cupping her breasts, tracing her ribcage, grabbing her behind. Belle pace was rising, her hand now placed on his shoulders for balanced and he just couldn't look away from the beauty in front of her. Seeing her lost in pleasure, head thrown back, little mewling sound escaping from her, moving and moving on top of him, seeking her pleasure, he was enveloped by a feeling of rightness. This was the way it was supposed to be, to feel. He snapped his own hips upward, increasing the friction, wanting to go deeper, to lose himself inside of her. He could feel Belle getting closer, her moves losing rhythm, her cries growing stronger. He kept thrusting, grabbing her hips and pushing them down, again and again and again. Her inner walls convulsed around his cock, making him gasp, his own release close. And then Belle cried out loud, digging her fingers in his shoulders, leaning forward and biting, hard, on his neck, sucking, marking him. His orgasm came then, with blinding force, wave after wave crashing into him, making him cry, his mind screaming at him that Belle was a lioness, a warrior princess an amazon and he loved her his fierce warrior his love his Belle.
When he could think again, he opened his eyes to see Belle, smiling, petting his air again. He tried to say what was on his mind, how amazing and unbelievable he was feeling but there were no words to describe it. He settled with:
"I love you."
"I love you too." Belle was beaming now, her eyes shiny and still dazed from pleasure. Tracing one finger across his neck she added: "Guess I left you with quite a love-bite."
"I'm yours to do as you please." He answered her, meaning every word.
"Oh is that right? I'm going to hold you to that. You see, I'm quite insatiable. And you just played yourself right into my hands. How….delightful."
At first he was flabbergasted but, as the meaning of her words sink in, he found himself mirroring her own devilish grin.
"Temptress." He purred, making her shiver. "I guess we should proceed to the bedroom then. That is, if you're willing?" He inquired, placing one hot kiss on the column of her neck.
"Oh, I'm willing, I'm very willing indeed."