A/N: Written in response to a prompt from tumblr.
"Gaston, try to be a bit understanding. It'll be out of here as soon as my shift's over and you'll never have to see it again, okay?" Belle's voice sounded both cajoling and desperate and it made Nick's blood boil. Whatever that stupid oaf was complaining to Belle apart surely wasn't worth making her suffer. The fingers of his right hand curled around the handle of his cane, itching to deliver some well-deserved blows to the boy's thick skull.
He saw her come out from the back seconds later and noticed that she didn't look as put together as usual. She had dark bags under her eyes and her hair was windswept and gathered at the back in a messy, lose braid, though many locks had escaped the hairdo in the course of the day. Her uniform was slightly wrinkled and altogether she seemed quite different from the very proper barista she usually was.
He beckoned her over as soon as she announced to the rest of her co-workers that she was taking her last break, trying to figure out the best way to enquire after her health without sounding like some creepy stalker from a slasher film, even though she had often encouraged him to take an interest in her personal life like she did with his.
"You seem troubled, dearie," he finally said, pretending to be studying his almost empty cup of coffee. Belle laughed, a self-deprecating little chuckle that lacked her usual enthusiasm, and leaned her head against his shoulder.
Her head. His shoulder.
Touching.
"Is it that obvious?" she joked, as if he could hear her when her hair tickled the side of his neck and his lungs were filled with her scent "I'm afraid I didn't get much sleep last night. I was forced to crash outside on the hallway and my apartment isn't really located in the safest neighbourhood in town…"
That snapped him out of his Belle-induced stupor quite effectively. For a moment he was torn between yelling at her for being bloody stupid and putting herself in danger for whatever reason she deemed worth it and playing the disinterested customer and feigning polite concern. Surely she wouldn't appreciate some overly-familiar old man prying into her business like th-
"Well, why would you do something so bloody stupid in the first place, Belle? I thought you smarter than that."
She didn't seem surprised or put out by his outburst, only slightly embarrassed at her own behaviour.
"You're right, of course," she conceded, flashing him a small smile meant to placate him but that only served to briefly focus his attention on her lips "I… well, I was walking home last night and I found this tiny little kitten trapped in a garbage container, wet and starved. I… I couldn't very well just leave it there so I took it home, but both my roommates refused to have him inside the apartment so I had to sleep with him in the corridor and feed him whatever he'd eat. They didn't even let me give him a proper bath, the poor dear. Since I worked a double shift today I couldn't drop him off at the shelter so I'm waiting till I'm off the clock to go. The kitten's at the back, in the locker rooms, and Gaston cannot stop complaining about the smell, even if it doesn't reach the front of the shop, but I can manage him for a couple more hours, no problem."
She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand before realizing she was all but snuggling close to him, apologizing as she rose to her feet, her face a fetching shade of red.
"Never mind that, Belle," he dismissed her apologies with a wave of his hand. Another smile and she was gone, faking cheerfulness to hide her rather evident exhaustion. A clap of thunder startled him out of his Belle-watching, followed by the sound of heavy rain. It was a Friday and the idea of going back to work did not much appeal to him. It was a novel thought for a man whose life had revolved around work since he could remember and it would give him an opportunity to plan the perfect way to trip that overgrown Gaston with his cane, so he took it. The utter shock in his assistant' voice as he told her to cancel the rest of his day was a thing of beauty, as were Belle's smiles for the next two hours, as if she knew he'd staid partly for her and was gratified by it.
He almost missed her going out the door, but he caught her as she said goodbye to her co-workers, dressed in a pair of rather smart jeans and a cream blouse. A lovely outfit, but paired with a rather flimsy trench coat that wouldn't do much to protect her from the pouring rain.
"I'm curious, Belle, just how do you think you're going to get to the shelter? Unless you have a carrier they won't let you into the subway or on a bus with your little charge and it's pouring out there."
She looked outside the window, crestfallen but determined.
"I'll manage. I don't think they'll much mind a cat in a box at the subway, all regulations aside." she didn't sound very hopeful but she managed a small smile, trying to pretend she wasn't worried.
"Well, I happen to have a town car ready to take me to wherever I please. I'd be happy to drop you off at the SPCA."
He was proud at the casual, almost disinterested tone of his voice, even though his heart was pounding and he could barely keep his hands from fidgeting. An honest, glowing smile spread across her face followed by a relieved sigh.
"You'd do that for me?" she asked, her hands squeezing his gloved ones in gratitude before asking him to wait while she got the rest of her things from the back. He used that time to try and regain some of his composure or else he might do something stupid with Belle so close and alone but for a mangy little cat. It was a rather curious little thing, from what he could see when Belle let him sneak a peek inside, a ball of tangled orangey fur, wet and smeared with mud. It had the strangest smell too, pungent and rancid an altogether unpleasant but even that could not diminish the little burst of joy inside him as Belle settled next to him on the back seat of the black town car. He gave directions to the driver, and proceeded to spend the rest of the ride watching Belle make cooing noises at the furry creature inside the cardboard box, her eyes warm and soft as she gazed at the drowned rat inside.
He spotted the doors of the shelter just before she stepped out of the car, gently stopping him with a hand on her arm.
"I'm afraid it seems to be closed, dearie," he pointed out, prompting her to take a closer look and let out a small little sound of dissapointment.
"Oh, no," she murmured, leaning back on the seat and closing the car door to stop the rain from coming in "What am I gonna do? I can't take him home but I can't leave him on the streets in the pouring rain either and…"
He could tell she was about to cry out of frustration, her eyes going glassy and her voice faltering slightly. She was usually so composed it was bizarre to see her undone like that. Belle should always be happy and content and smiling and he'd do anything to keep her that way.
Which, it seemed, included taking care of strays.
"I'll keep him, dearie. For the night. In the morning I can have someone take him to the shelter, maybe even with a small but substantial donation," he shrugged smiling in jest when he added "It'd be good publicity for the company."
He didn't expect Belle to carefully set the box down by her feet before launching herself into his arms, taking surprising care not to jostle his leg in her exuberance. She was warm and smelled of vanilla, like usual, and coffee, and was soft and pliant in his arms and he wanted to find a way to keep her there forever. Surely there must be some kind of deal he could make, some strings he could pull…
He reluctantly released her, taking a moment to bury his nose in her hair before she was gone from his arms, back to her proper place.
"I'm sorry. I… I don't know what got into me," she stammered, blushing adorably "I'm just so relieved."
He offered to drop her off at her apartment but she insisted on helping him set the cat up for the night and bathing him so he wouldn't be a constant assault to the senses. He eagerly agreed to her offer, wondering if he might tempt her to stay and have a casual, completely friendly dinner with him. He knew she was due to apply to numerous internships in a couple of months and surely she'd get one and leave the coffee shop. If he could manage to establish at least a superficial level of friendship with her he might be able to keep her in his life in some capacity, maybe as an acquaintance she'd have coffee with every month or so. It was a long shot but also possible and so far the only way he could cope with the idea of Belle no longer being his barista.
The doorman greeted them with a polite smile and an umbrella, and received a beaming smile from Belle in thanks, making him warm up to her immediately, which Gold chose not to feel jealous over. He got better smiles in any case. He led her into the foyer and onto the elevator swiftly, thinking that the sooner the kitten was washed the better for everyone involved. Strangely enough the kitten hadn't meowed yet or made any sort of sound at all and it was only Belle's nonchalance that assured him it was not dead.
"Quiet little thing, isn't it?"
"He, actually, and yes. I think he might be in shock, too scared to make a sound."
He made a non-committal sound at that, not really knowing how to respond. He'd never had a pet so he was unsure how animals in general behaved, choosing to trust Belle's expertise instead. As soon as he ushered her inside his home he could see her eyes light up, taking it all in and it gave him profound satisfaction to see she approved of his home. It was warm and inviting, Spartan in a few places and hopelessly cluttered in others, none of that minimalist, futuristic furniture to be seen. He preferred antiques and by the way Belle gently caressed the smooth wooden surface of a turn of the century Chinese painted cabinet he could tell she was of the same mind.
"You have a lovely home," she eventually said, trying to take her eyes off the open door that led to his study, where he kept his rather impressive collection of first editions. Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly opened and for a moment she looked too delicious for words, so real standing before him, not some dream he had conjured up.
"Thank you, dearie. Well, best get the wee one into some warm water before we both completely loose our sense of smell."
She laughed and even bumped him on the shoulder before following him to the en suite bathroom, Nick trying to studiously avoid looking at Belle when she walked by his bed. She sighed when she saw the claw foot tub.
"So well preserved. And so big! You could easily fit two people in there."
It took everything in him, every fucking ounce of will power, not to ask her to test out her theory with him. She was so innocent, so artless, that it felt wrong and reprehensible to entertain such fantasies. And they'd lead him nowhere, only to frustrations on a cold, empty bed. Pointless.
He let her set all up in the bathroom, knowing his lame leg wouldn't let him kneel beside her and help, and decided to raid get the little bitter set up for the knight. A thin, flat tray with some newspaper would do for a litter box for the night, in the off chance the kitten might know to use it, and some shallow bowls he didn't much care for could be spared to give him some milk and food. He didn't have much to give the kitty but he spared a can of tuna for the mangy little thing, eager to see Belle's smile when she saw what he had managed to scrounge up for her little charge. He could hear her faintly coo and sometimes laugh, water splashing. It was nice, to hear her somewhere inside his home, and imagine it was her home too, that they'd just adopted a pet together and Belle was cleaning him up so they could then sit with him by the fire and think up names, knowing he'd chose whatever she loved the most.
It was a foolish, pathetic fantasy, but one hard to shake. He raided the rest of his pantry to find some smoked salmon, crab, mayonnaise and pepper. He'd whip up some smoked salmon salad with crab dressing, stating then that he'd made too much for himself and perhaps she could do him a favour and stay for dinner.
It was a solid plan, but it completely eluded him the moment he went back to his bathroom to see Belle, soaked from head to toe, holding a caramel-coloured purring ball.
"He's a feisty one," she said by way of explanation, making it very clear she had no idea her lovely cream blouse was now almost completely see-through. The fact that she was cuddling the little critter close to her chest was all that was keeping Nick from completely loosing his sanity.
"I… I see," he managed to ground out, letting his eyes study the ceramic details on the bathroom walls intently "He seems clean, at least."
Without the grime and the bad smell the kitten improved a whole lot. It was still a minuscule, scrawny thing, but his fur looked smooth and his eyes, almond-shaped and green, looked alert and clear.
"I'm guessing his a little over a month old," Belle gently rubbed a towel over the cat's orange fur, her movements slow and soothing "Which means he can eat solid food if we're lucky. He doesn't seem sick bit he won't meow, for some reason."
She looked faintly worried as she placed a tiny kiss on the kitten's head. Maybe if he scraped something one day she'd give him a kiss on the forehead. It'd be worth it.
"Come, I have a fire going in the living room and some food. Maybe after he gets dry he'll be more communicative."
She made a move to follow him out of the room but he stopped her.
"You're soaked, love," he remarked, realizing too late how it sounded "I mean… your clothes. Do you have spare clothes?"
Belle looked down at herself her eyes widening when she noticed the state of her wardrobe.
"I… I think I have some leggings that I was thinking to wear under the jeans if it got too chilly, but no top. I left my uniform inside my locker at the coffee shop," she gingerly plucked at the sopping shirt, looking for a way in which it wouldn't plaster itself against her skin.
"You can wear one of my shirts and your tights and we'll hang the rest to dry while we eat."
He was proud of his quick thinking in the face of Belle's almost-nudity, quickly selecting a white shirt he didn't much use, so he wouldn't have to wash it after she didn't need it any more. He took the tiny kitten from her and left her to change in his room while he managed to conjure up a tiny nest of towels and linens in front of the fire to pluck the wee one on. The kitten stared intently at him, head tilted to a side and eyes wide open.
"It's impolite to stare, dearie," he admonished, figuring that making small talk with the creature was better than thinking about Belle undressing in his bedroom "Specially so intently. Didn't teach you manners in the streets, I take it?"
The kitten opened his mouth, the most ridiculously adorable croak coming out of it. It was a bizarre sound for a cat to make and it took the businessman by surprise.
"Evidently not." he finally grumbled, setting a tiny saucer on the floor and filling it with milk. The kitten sniffed at it looking like it either had never seen milk before or he wasn't sure if it was good enough to eat.
"Oh, I'm sorry, is my organic milk not to your taste?"
The kitten croaked again before resignedly starting to lap at the offering. Belle chose that moment to enter, bare-foot and dressed in black leggings and his white shirt. It was a good fit for a dress, specially with the way she'd rolled up the cuffs a bit. Her hair was curly and lose, almost dry from the rain and the bath, with some wet curls still clinging to her neck. She smiled at the sight of the little kitten drinking before directing his attention to him.
"You're sure it's okay for me to stay for dinner? I don't want to impose." she bit her lip, a sure sign she was truly afraid of being a nuisance, but caved in when he simply passed her a plate with food. Since she seemed so concerned for the ball of fluff they'd eat by the fire on the floor, leaning against a big sofa and taking advantage of the lush cream rug there. He rather liked the informal, cosy setting and the closeness that it guaranteed him. The kitten was between them, eyeing their plates and then his dish of milk, an expression very much like a frown settling across his face.
"I think he might not be very pleased with us," Belle scratched his tiny back, causing the wee one to arch into her touch, purring before giving Nick another pointed look "Or maybe just you."
The businessman rolled his eyes and pushed a bowl filled with tuna in front of the critter, expecting it to devour the fish. Instead it thoroughly sniffed it, like with the milk, before leaving it alone.
"You're a mangy mutt from the streets, scrawny and starved, how come you're so picky?"
Belle seemed to find it adorable that he argued with the thing, chuckling and giving him tender little smiles that were sheer torture and heaven. The kitten seemed to take advantage of his distraction to pounce on his smoked salmon, happily covering it entirely with cat hair before munching on it. Nick stared in disbelief refusing to contemplate the thought that he'd just been bested by a two-month-old fur-ball.
"Oh, Caramel, no!" Belle realized to late what the little one had done, trying to pry it away from an already ruined dish.
"Don't bother, dearie. The thing can have it. Wasn't really hungry anyway." he tried to shrug the incident off, noticing with some dismay that she seemed to have named the creature. It'd break her heart to be parted from it, he was beginning to realize.
"You hardly eat during the day, I'm betting this is your one serious meal," she nudged him out of the way to go to the kitchen and, moments later, he could hear the sound of something sizzling over the fire. It made him melt, watching her walk around his house like it was hers to, feeling comfortable enough to cook without asking, and having private little moments by the fire.
"You're forgiven." he muttered to the kitten, who was looking at him like that had been his plan all along. He wiggled his fingers in front of the kit's face, suppressing a smile when he swung a paw at them. He was truly not as mangy as he kept saying, and almost uncannily self-aware. The wee one purred, rubbing his side against the back of his hand, almost politely asking for a petting.
"You'll be gone in the morning, kit. Better remember it."
When Belle returned with an impromptu mushroom and cheese omelette Caramel made no move to touch it, letting Nick have it. He went over to Belle's side, croaking in that peculiar way he had and kneading her lap, making sure it was soft and comfy before curling up and going to sleep.
"Should he be making those noises?"
"Oh, some kittens meow funny, or he may have never meowed before so he doesn't know the proper way to do it. When he gets checked out they'll see if he has any problems."
Belle wiggled around, trying to find a comfortable position with Caramel still on her lap. Nick could see she was exhausted and wound up, the stress of the day catching up to her.
"Would you care for some tea to warm you up before you go?"
It was a pathetic attempt at keeping her with him for a moment longer, but he was beyond caring about things like that. She smiled, eyes closed.
"I could use something with a little more kick, to tell you the truth."
Her voice, raspy with sleep, made her sound like something right out of his deepest fantasies, and she looked the part too, snuggled next to him by the fire, eyes closed and a contented look on her face.
"I'll see what I can conjure up."
His wet bar contained mostly whisky and bourbon, and he recalled Belle saying she didn't much like either. He kept most of the wine stored safely in the basement of the building and it'd be a hassle to call for some to be brought up so he was quite pleased when he found, on his fridge, a pitcher of berry sangria, a remnant from the last party he'd thrown. He'd had it made because the wife of the investor he'd been trying to lure loved it, even though it was really not to his taste. He carried the pitcher with him along with a half-full bottle of Johnnie Walker, a whisky tumbler, a wine glass and a bowl full of berries as a form of dessert.
"I believe this is berry sangria. Oh, don't make that face, it's not for me. It's the only thing other than whisky I have, so take it or leave it."
She accepted the glass he poured for her, making a delicious little noise of appreciation when the sangria touched her lips.
"This is rather good." she praised, downing the drink in one long gulp that had him hard instantly. It didn't help that her tongue darted to lick the rim of the glass.
"And that is rather impressive." he replied, adjusting his position so she couldn't tell how really impressed he was. He poured her another glass before downing his own drink and reaching for the bottle of whiskey.
"I'll have you know that I'm a woman of many hidden talents."
There was a playful lilt to her voice and a certain spark in her eyes that disarmed him. By the light of the fire, wearing his shirt and little else she looked completely at home, his to keep and enjoy as much as he felt he was hers. It was truly beyond pathetic, to feel so much for someone who would never even know it, but he was old enough to know he'd never feel for anyone else the way he felt for her, and he was not going to walk away from it. Better to have something than to have nothing.
They talked of everything and nothing, discovering new topics they'd never approached and continuing old conversations with ease. Under the pretence of wanting to pet Caramel, who was still curled up on Belle's lap he inched closer to her till he could ran his fingers through the kitten's now dry fur with ease. At one point she started stroking the wee one too and so their fingers would brush together from time to time. Caramel purred loudly in appreciation, covering the sounds Gold's heart was making as it stuttered in vibrant staccato against his ribcage. He didn't much believe in karma but it was beginning to look like the good deed he had done was being rewarded. Maybe he'd make sure the little fur-ball went to a good home, with no grabby kids to bother him and people who could afford smoked salmon. He certainly deserved it.
When he polished off his whiskey he helped her finished the rest of the sangria, fearing that if he stopped drinking or moved to grab another bottle the spell would be broken and she'd realize how late it was and go. His fingers were not very steady as they picked around the bowl for something he liked. She slapped his hand away, her mouth still full of liquid and an affronted look on her face.
"Swallow before speaking, dearie." he teased her, wondering what the Hell he was doing outright flirting with her. How much had he drunk anyway?
"Stop eating only the raspberries. They are my favourite too but you don't see me fishing them out."
"you're just jealous you didn't think about it first."
She laughed, disturbing poor little Caramel who jumped out of her lap and trotted away in the general direction of the laundry room, apparently too good to deal with drunken humans.
"Oh, you've made him angry." Nick's voice acquired a sing-song-y quality, almost taunting. Belle hit him in the chest lightly.
"All because of you, you awful man!"
She threw a couple of blue berries at him, laughing when he spilled some sangria on his neck and shirt as he tried to duck.
"I hope you don't much like that shirt, dearie." she mocked him, grabbing a raspberry and showing it to him proudly before popping it into her mouth. His eyes followed the movements of her jaw and throat as she chewed and swallowed, completely disregarding the bits of berry and alcohol running down his neck.
"No, seriously Nick, it's gonna stain unless you take care of it." Belle now looked worried, or thoughtful, biting her lip and staring at the mess she'd accidentally caused. He was about to assure her he didn't much care for the shirt when she leaned forward, her hands perching on his shoulders to balance herself as her lips closed around a bit of fruit at the base of his throat, swallowing before running her tongue across the skin there to remove the remains of the sticky sangria.
"Belle?" he choked out, frozen in place "What are you doing?"
She hesitated before drawing back enough to stare at him directly.
"Something either very brave or very foolish." she whispered, her eyes searching his expression to try and discover which one was it. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Nick moved, slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt.
"I think one of the berries got into my shirt." he said by way of an explanation, almost groaning in relief when Belle took it as her cue to return her mouth to its rightful place against his skin. He moaned when she sucked the next bit of berry into her mouth, gently biting down on his skin to admonish him for wiggling, like he could ever stay still when Belle was all but straddling him. She cleaned his neck thoroughly, mixing slow, languid strokes of her tongue with playful nibbles. But every once in a while she'd clamp her mouth shut a round a bit of flesh and suck till he was sure he'd come just from that gesture alone. It was such a dominant, aggressive move that he was rather surprised he liked it. He didn't, as a rule, enjoy submission in any aspect of his life. His early adulthood and marriage had taught him that vulnerability lead to abuse and derision so he had come to believe it was never a good idea to put himself in that position with anyone at all.
But it felt utterly right to just sit back, tilt his head to a side and let Belle do whatever she wished to him. He but back a moan when her fingers dug into his hair, nails scraping against his sensitive scalp as she finish lapping at the last of the sangria on his neck. She quickly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, prompting silently to shrug it off before tugging at his under-shirt with something akin to desperation.
"You're so layered," she muttered softly into his ear, smiling against the side of his neck when he chuckled throatily, completely surprised by her comment. He helped her get the shirt off, loving the way she lounged at him the moment his torso was bared. He was not, by any means, an athletic man but he had kept fit over the years, partly out of habit and partly to compensate for his limp, should the need to use physical force ever arise- like when obnoxious little coffee house patrons harassed busy baristas. There were some scars too, from before he'd gone into business and built the life he now lived, and they weren't exactly pretty. The one he was dreading, though, was the one on his knee.
Belle traced her fingertips across his collarbone and ribcage, feather-light touches that had him panting without realizing it.
"You're killing me, love," he whined, struggling not to fidget too much as her hands moved lower, caressing the smooth planes of his stomach where he had a faded knife scar he'd gotten in a football match. She made a soft noise almost like a whimper when she saw it, a frown crossing her face "It's an old wound, Belle, didn't even hurt that much whe-"
He bit his tongue to stifle a moan when she lowered her head to place a gentle, moist kiss over the mark, blowing on the faint wet spot she'd created until he had to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to keep himself from coming. She was so beautiful and so wonderful that if she kept that up he was not going to last much longer. And he hadn't even kissed her yet.
That was unacceptable.
"Come 'ere," he muttered lowly, urging her up so he could press his lips against hers. At first it was something chaste, even sweet, a confirmation of what was happening. Then she tilted her head the slightest bit and it was heaven, wet, warm, perfect heaven. He barely had to coax her mouth open with his tongue, her own immediately seeking it out, prompting him to clutch her closer till he had a lapful of Belle. He became almost punishing, seeking to devour her whole, to take enough of her to keep as his own when she finally left. But no matter how forceful or desperate he became she met him with the same sort of eagerness, hands fisting on his hair or raking down his back, trying to be everywhere at once.
"So warm," she sighed into his mouth as she splayed both hands on his back, her caresses slowing down and becoming gentle again.
"Only for you," he replied, fumbling with the buttons of the shirt she was wearing till he remembered it was his and simply tore it open, relishing the ripping sound it made and Belle's bark of laughter.
"This is not a good day for your wardrobe," she teased as his lips left hers to travel down her neck, seeking to leave on her the same marks she'd left on him. She was exquisitely sensitive, keening and whimpering at the slightest touch of his teeth or mouth on her skin and wiggling on his lap, torturing him.
"I'm in love with your neck," his voice was full of awe and reverence as he kneaded her nape and in between her shoulders skilfully "And with the sounds you make."
The last bit was said in a teasing growl before he pounced on her, knocking them both onto the plush rug. He felt her hands on his belt but was too absorbed in trying to get his own fingers to work the clasp of her bra to pay much attention, only complying with her when she tugged his pants down with her feet. They rolled over till she was on top, Nick finally kicking his pants off without looking away from her breasts. There was a certain blush in her face and a nervous fidget that told of her shyness to have him simply looking at her so but she made no move to cover herself, even allowing him to flip her hair to the back so she'd be completely uncovered.
"What are you looking at so intently?" she finally asked, biting her lip. His hands travelled up her hips to settle somewhere beneath her breasts, fingers warm and caressing.
"You."
It must have been the right thing to say because in the next second Nick's hands were full of Belle's breast, the woman herself ducking low to kiss him. It felt like she was taking everything with that kiss, giving something to him in return. She suddenly took his hands from her breasts and for a moment his blood froze, fearing he'd done something wrong. He felt quickly appeased when she placed his hands around her hips, dipping his thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and gesturing for him to pull them off, which he did immediately. He felt her everywhere then, their legs tangled, her hair falling across his chest and only their hips separated by thin layers of clothing. The alcohol in his system made him strangely sensitive to every single inch of her skin pressed against his, making him feel deliriously out of control, uninhibited and unworried about tomorrow.
"You still have your socks on," she protested, rubbing the soles of her feet against them.
"Well, I'm not very fond of your panties, but you don't hear me complaining about them." he bit her lip gently before laving the injury with his tongue in a placating gesture.
"Maybe you should."
It was a dare and, to make it more clear, Belle straightened up before manouvering her torso so her hands could reach his socks, peeling them off slowly before turning to look at him intently. Her eyes were very blue as they beheld him, looking somehow like a kind mistress waiting to see if her faithful servant would follow her orders. She didn't protest when he set her down on the rug and tugged her underwear slowly down her legs, making sure the lace caressed the skin of her legs. He kissed her then, carefully easing himself off of her till he was once again beneath her, pressing her close to him as she busied herself with his boxers. It was only when she teasingly repeated his own actions that he realized she could see his scar. He jerked away, pushing her backwards without meaning to.
"Nick?" her voice sounded small and tentative and he hated himself for making it so. He reflexively covered the scar tissue of his knee with his hands, looking away from her as he did so.
"I… I'm sorry."
There was a tense minute of silence between them and Nick wanted to kill himself for ruining the best thing that had ever happened to him. He would never again get a chance with Belle, and he was pretty sure there would be no "staying friends" after this, and-
He first felt both her hands gently take hold of his calf, her thumbs stroking his skin softly. Next thing he knew her lips were pressed against the mess of mangled skin and muscle above. One kiss became too and then three, each one covering a different part of the scar.
"I'd like to hear how it happened," her voice was pitched low but calm "One day, when you're ready."
He smiled, a tremulous gesture that looked close to tears.
"I'd like that."
She moved to straddle him once more, a small moan escaping her when she settled on his naked lap, letting him feel how wet she was. He kissed her fiercely, apologizing and thanking in the same breath, his hands ghosting over her back before moving to her front to cup her breasts again, his thumbs teasing her nipples softly at first but with increasing pressure as she started sighing and whimpering against his mouth. He wanted to do everything at once, to duck and taste the pebbled skin, to lay her down and eat her out, to kiss her and lick all over, but above it all he wanted to be inside her, were he belonged, if only just for the night.
"Belle," he rasped, dragging his tongue over her collarbone "I need… I need…"
"Yes, yes," she sounded both soothing and desperate, snaking a hand between them to grasp his erection and guide it to her entrance "Please…"
He didn't know if she was the one to sink down or he was the one to thrust his hips up, or maybe both, but suddenly he was enveloped in her, and it was perfect. She was hot and tight and altogether perfect and for a moment all he did was take it all in, feeling no need to move, concentrating instead on the small sensations she produced. His face was buried in her hair, the scent of vanilla all around him, his chest pressed tightly against hers and his hands stroking up and down her spine, feeling the was she tensed and relaxed, caught in the same in-between he was. Finally she started rocking against him, small, unhurried movements meant to explore and see what felt good and what better. He followed her example, ears and eyes trained on her to gauge her reactions as she changed angle, depth and speed as much as their position would allow. After a while their movements started to synchronise, developing a delicious rhythm between them. As they grew used to a pace they both liked they allowed themselves to become distracted by hands and lips, seeking to enhance the experience as much as possible.
He discovered she rather liked to hear him talk, sweet nothings about how he saw her and how she made him feel and she seemed to quickly catch onto the fact that raking her nails down his back would elicit a shuddering, delightful moan and sometimes a growl, which he'd try to muffle by gently biting her neck. It soon became pretty clear, by the way she ground her hips harder against his, that she loved his teeth on her skin.
Somewhere between the biting and the whispering they picked up the rhythm, a pleasant urgency settling over both as they sought to drive the other over the edge. Extremely aware of the fact that he was very close to coming undone Nick snuck a hand between their bodies, his fingers expertly seeking out her clit amongst the wetness and heat. When he finally found it she made an adorable noise of surprise before grabbing fistfuls of his hair, pulling so she could look at him, eyes wild as he smirked and deftly took a hold of the bundle of nerves with his thumb and forefinger and pinched.
She yanked on his hair hard as she came, the gesture triggering his own release. It took all of his efforts to keep a steady pace, using every bit of his willpower to try and prolong the experience as much as he could, concentrating on watching her ride her climax. Belle was a beautiful thing to see come undone, strangely vulnerable and fragile like he had never seen her before. It made him wrapped himself around her when it was all over, stroking her hair and murmuring soothing things into her ear as she drifted off in front of the fire.
Nick woke up with his knee screaming in protest. He immediately could tell why: he was sleeping on the floor, an Afghan draped over his body and the rug keeping him relatively warm. The fire had died out during the night but apart from his knee he felt wonderfully relaxed and content. There was a strange taste in his mouth, like some type of fruit, like…
Berries. Berry sangria. A drunk Belle. Sex.
Oh, no.
He scrambled into a seating position, knowing that without his cane his knee would refuse to support his weight. He fumbled for his discarded boxers and his shirt, trying frantically to think if he could salvage the situation. He had had sex with Belle while she was drunk, and had woken up alone. She must have snuck out, ashamed and betrayed and there was no amount of apologizing that would make any of this right.
"Hi there, sleeping beauty," her voice reached his ears before he saw her. In her underwear and wearing his white shirt she looked more like one of his fantasies than a real person. Maybe he was still asleep. She was carrying two Starbucks cups, a transparent want filled with tea and another that looked like his usual order, and a paper bag and her hair looked adorably tousled.
"I… I hope you don't mind but, ah, your man came in an hour ago wanting to know if he could get anything for you and I managed to get him to make a coffee run for me. He's really nice and helpful and you should totally raise his salary for not looking down my shirt at any point in our conversation."
She plopped down next to him and handed him his cup of coffee, taking a sip of her own tea and making a happy little noise as it warmed her. He took a gulp of his drink, trying to make sense of everything and figure out the best way to start apologizing for everything.
"I'm so sorry, Belle," he finally blurted out, unable to look at her in the eyes. He missed the colour draining from her face, a distressed sort of look settling on her features "So sorry. I shouldn't have done it, I know that. You were drunk and I took advantage of that and I can't ever make that right. Is just that I've wanted you for so long and I can't believe I've muddled things up beyond repair…"
One of her hands covered his mouth, effectively shutting him up. He dared to look at her then, seeing relief and happiness and a strange sort of softness about her that soothed him immediately.
"I wasn't drunk, Nick. I can hold my liquor, thank you very much. I have male friends that are very jealous of me for that," she paused, biting her lip and smiling "I actually thought you might have been a little tipsy, in retrospective, and that you regretted what happened yesterday. Do you regret it, Nick?" he shook his head, her hand still preventing him to talk so he licked her palm for emphasis "Oh, good. That's a relief. I don't have to hunt for my jeans and make a hasty retreat, then."
She took her hand off her mouth and snuggled up against his side, prompting him to put an arm around her shoulders and lean his cheek against the crown of his head.
"So you're staying, then? I mean, we could watch a movie or two, maybe have lunch."
Instead of Belle's voice his suggestion was answered with a rather unnerving croak. Something warm and small shimmied its way between them, rubbing against Belle first and Nick second.
"Hello there, Caramel," Belle cooed, stroking his furry back and giggling when the cat started purring "I guess we should get him to the shelter, actually."
The kitten turned his head to look at Nick, his almond-shaped eyes seeming to remind him that he owed last night all to him.
'I brought Belle into your home, human,' he seemed to be saying 'You owe me big.'
And the wee thing was right, of course. Gold owed him and he hated being in someone's debt.
"I don't know, dearie, he's a bit too small for the shelter. He might catch something from the older cats and even if he got adopted quickly he might go to a horrible family. Perhaps… perhaps he could stay, for a little while. Get strong and healthy and then I'll see about getting him a good home. A home with smoked salmon."
Belle bit her lip, trying to hid her smile.
"Oh, I see. Of course, he is very little. You're right."
She seemed to imply that she believed he meant to keep the cat, which was utterly ridiculous. He was giving the kitten more time because he wanted to settle their debt, but it was certainly not his intention to adopt the little runt.
"Perhaps… perhaps I could help you with him," Belle sounded extremely unsure and tentative, but also hopeful "Maybe come over some time, play with him, take him to the vet for his shots… that kind of thing."
He pulled her closer, smiling against the crown of her hair.
"Sounds perfect. He clearly adores you," he paused, watching Caramel paw at the straw of Belle's tea before gnawing at it with tiny baby teeth "Maybe you should even stay over tonight. So that he isn't scared, I mean."
Her kiss was unexpected but welcomed, tasting of tea and vanilla.
"I'd like that." she whispered against his lips before he crushed her to him, silencing her for a good while.