Author's note/Disclaimer:

And now, my very first The Amazing World of Gumball fan fiction. I have quite the affection for this show, and I'm surprised that it's taken me this long to write a story based off of it. Everything about it works. The art style, the humor, the characters, they are just a breath of fresh air.

Speaking of the characters, I've noticed that the Wattersons are close-knit as a family can be. It's one of the show's selling points for me; I have quite the soft spot for mushy stuff like this. What better motif to use for this story? And what better way to show off that familial bond than through Nicole and Richard Watterson?

This particular story was written a good four or so months ago. Consider it an experiment; writing in this sort of genre is something I haven't done before. It was a lot of fun to make, though, and it took me out of my comfort zone.

Do note that this IS a Rated-M story - my very first, in fact. So if you're not quite around the legal age yet, depending on where you live, you may not be permitted to even take a peek at it.

If you are, however, then happy reading!

Rekindled Flame

Richard Watterson was a man in every sense of the word. Or at least he believed he was. He was a man who, in spite of his quirks, per se, had the capacity to be strong, to be clever, and all the other qualities that his portly appearance would otherwise not show. But more importantly, he had the capacity to love.

He was a family man, plain and simple. He loved his two sons Gumball and Darwin for sharing in his enjoyment, for making him feel like time was on his side. He loved his only little girl Anais for the gift she was born with and the honor she brought to his name. And last but certainly not the least was Nicole, the woman who made him feel whole. The one whose very presence told him that life is never meant to be left alone, that there is beauty in everything in this world, big or small, if they are given more than a cursory look. He loved her and she loved him back. This was a fact that has stayed irrefutable, undeniable, the day that fate wove her hands over them.

But why did he feel so shaken? Why did he feel so unnerved? Paralyzed? Why was it that the words that dangled from his tongue evaporated before he could out them?

These questions arose in Richard's mind that night—a quiet February 14th, Valentine's Day—and demanded answers, like an infant crying for food as hunger overcame him. They arose as he entered what was supposed to be the door to his room. But when it swung fully open, it was not his room that he came across. Not the one that he recognized, that is.

Richard was stunned, unmoving and speechless, at what his eyes beheld. The carpeted floor was absolutely spotless, free of any of their belongings and without even the smallest smudge to detach from the atmosphere. Two rose-scented candles stood and glowed on the nightstands on either side of the bed – the only source of illumination in the room, slathering it with multiple shades and variations of the color red. They must have been kept alit for a while now, as their smell has wafted to every corner, entering his nose and igniting him. As for the bed itself, the white linen sheets familiar to him were replaced by a silken blanket that burned crimson. He approached it and ran his paw along the fabric to be certain, the smoothness along his fur, his skin, a confirmation.

Nicole was already lounging atop the bed, her head reclining on her knuckles and a bent right leg over her left one. A scarlet bathrobe graced her back—a wedding anniversary present, from him to her—its belt done up in a ribbon-like knot in the front, her tail slipping beneath the train. It was complimented by a pair of half-open eyes and a smile on her face. Her smile was a commanding smile, and it ordered her husband to draw closer to her.

And he did, in spite his worries.

"Surprised? It took me all day to get this set up," said the blue feline, running her palm along the cotton, slow and steady. She took a whiff of the pervasive smell, intoxicated by it. "I really hope you like it."

Richard, however, remained without words, sweat rising through his pores, snaking along his fur. How long has it been since the two of them were in a situation like this? Free from the bridles of the world, free to shower the other with affection in ways too sacred for anyone else to see? However long it may be, the memory was blurred in him. And even if it were clear, it would not change the bout of fear that has set in him.

The rotund rabbit, kneeling to the level of his wife's line of sight, took her by her hand. "I…I love it," he said through infrequent gulps. His grip on her hand was shaky, but he stilled it just briefly, for her. "W-why don't I, um…go freshen up first and we can get started?"

Before he could release her, Nicole tightened her hand around his. For how fragile she seemed, how delicate she might have appeared to the unschooled eye, she was strong—far stronger than he could ever be, in fact—so she was careful that her hold would not leave him with one hand less.

"There's no need for that, Richard. Come, hop on." She moved aside to give him room, tapping on the wrinkled spot on the silk blanket. She was eager about this.

Well, she convinced herself that she was, anyway.

At his wife's prompting and scooching to the other side, Richard began to undo his tie, the buttons of his shirt and the one button of his slacks, and set himself on the bed as he did so. Upon finishing, he discarded them by the edge, attempting and failing to keep his rapidly-thumping heart in check. The smell of roses that burned from the candles did not help with the matter whatsoever.

Nicole then proceeded to rid herself of her own layers, undoing the knot of her robe's belt. Unlike her husband, she took her time, her motions paced, delicate, betraying the strength that was characteristic of her. A moment like this came once in a blue moon, or even rarer than that considering the children under their care, so she made damn sure to make the most out of it. She made sure to savor the occasion, milk out every minute, every second, for what they're worth.

The robe fell to the carpet floor in a cascade of red. The happily married leporine and feline eyed each other, ingraining every facet of them, big or small, into their minds. Richard had nothing more than a dainty pair of faultless white briefs, which in the tinges of red around him looked like a pair of swimming trunks. Nicole, on the other hand, wore her brown bra and thong. They were both smaller than his underwear, which seemed almost impossible to him, that they were of that size, so that there was more of her for him to see.

Resting his head on the pillow, Richard gazed at the ceiling. His musings ran rampant inside of him, causing him unease. He remembered what he and Nicole agreed on.

For the last month, they had planned this occasion, envisioning what it would be like. She was the one who broached the idea to him, ecstatic towards it. He knew what he said and recalled every last word; he even shared in her excitement. But only now did it occur to him that he might have been too excited. So lost in the moment that the words fled his mouth spontaneously, without thinking, without consideration for what they would lead to. And maybe she was as well.

Confident, Nicole lifted herself up and faced her husband. The smile on her face stretched even wider, and her eyes narrowed a little more.

"Alright, let's get started," she said, rubbing her hands together.

Richard, still hoping to find that semblance of reservation in her, rose up and sat with his legs tucked underneath him. His heart was the engine of a sports car, roaring and beating against his chest. A film of sweat rose once more from his pores. His racing heartbeat quickened and the sweat thickened as his wife exhibited her adamancy with each move she made.

Her hands found his waist, skirting the hem of his briefs. They rubbed his skin in small strokes—up and down, slow and steady—before moving towards the small of his back. Her arms laced around him, the distance between them nonexistent. She tilted her head up and gazed at her husband's face. In his eyes she saw fear. In his gritted teeth she saw hesitation. And as her own eyes widened and her own lips curled downward, that very fear and hesitation became hers as well.

Astonished, Nicole swayed away from him. It was the exact outcome he wanted and she did not.

"I…I'm sorry," said Nicole, wincing in shame. "I don't think I can do this." She sighed deeply. "I was so excited about us, about this"—she gestured to their near-bare selves and the red-painted room—"that I wasn't thinking it through. I was in a hurry. Now that I consider it…I'm a little scared. We haven't done this in so long."

Richard sighed. Her eyes were wide as his breath and voice trickled her cheek.

"Wait, you too?" Nicole stared at him with raised eyebrows, confused.

There was no need for them to pretend anymore.

"Uh-huh. I tried not to be, though, because I thought you wanted this so bad." His hand touched the small of her back.

Nicole's cheeks burned red as the room. She was taken aback by his gesture, his cooperation. It was his acts of selflessness such as this that endeared her and led to their matrimony. It was what she could see in him and what the unversed could not. Guilt took hold of her as the epiphany dawned in her mind. Had she thought only of herself and not of him?

"Look at us. It's like the good old days," mused Richard in a chuckle. "Remember them, Nicole? Remember our honeymoon? How I carried you to our hotel room and we did just this?"

Amused by his reminiscence, Nicole turned to face her husband and joined in his humor. The picture surfaced in her, as clear as the break of dawn, and her fears dissolved as the pieces of the picture fit together.

"Yeah, I do. You were sweating bullets from the lobby all the way to the room."

Richard laughed slightly louder, leaning on the headboard, and dwelt on the memory. He took her into his arms, holding her by the side of her head, and caressed her with the heel of his hand. He felt his heart decelerating and his perspiration thinning out.

She gazed at him and left a peck upon his lips. A smile surfaced in her face, except now it wasn't one that belonged to a person with a ravenous desire.

"Why don't we just take it easy for now?" Nicole suggested, patting the rabbit's bulging stomach.

"Sounds good," Richard whispered.

Lifting herself up, Nicole positioned herself squarely before her husband. Their eyes found each other. For a while they were entranced, swimming in the other's gaze, their hands poised on the other's waist. They were quiet, unmoving. There was no need for either of them to speak. This was all they needed. To be together, side by side, within an arm's reach.

Bravely, Richard leaned his head forward. His mouth fastened around hers, his eyes fluttering shut as the taste of strawberries fell on his tongue.

She was taken by surprise. Her eyes were wide as plates, her brow lifted until it could lift no more. This was her turn now to have her heart racing. It was unexpected.

It was wonderful.

Her eyes closing gingerly, Nicole raised her arms up around his back. She held him tightly. He was hers, and she was his. No one would dare lay a finger on either of them. No one would take this, him, away from her.

Ten seconds in, and their lips remained together. Richard did as she did and brought his hands up on her back, leveled with where her chest was. They searched, scoured, for something. Nicole was curious as to what, but did not pull away yet.

Click!

His hands were on her bra. They fiddled with the thing, unfastening the clip, and pulled both ends apart.

His confidence building, Richard wasted little time and directed his affection towards other parts of her body. He shifted from her lips to her neck to her shoulders to her chest, his mouth gliding slowly from here to there, one side to the next. His tongue brushing her flesh ensured that he was a part of her, ensured that their connection was firm.

Each sigh and moan that his kisses drew out of her lungs filled the air. The temperature was at an all-time high by the time he arrived past his wife's waist. She still sighed, but her moaning turned into slight screaming. His kissing only fanned the flame that blazed in her until it was a wildfire; unstoppable. Beyond the point of no return. The rest of Elmore might have heard them, cringing wherever they sat or stood as they painted their own interpretation in their minds, but she didn't give a damn in the slightest.

And neither did he.

As the feral feline she knew she was, Nicole took hold of the hem of his briefs and clutched it tightly. She yanked it down until his knees caught it. At her urging, he shifted in place, moving his legs forward, towards her, so that she could have her way. So that he would be rid of the last of his layers.

Hurriedly, Richard did the same. The strap of her thong was within his grasp. Only here, she did not need any prompting. She knew what was about to follow and positioned herself accordingly, the thong brushing against her legs as it was pulled out.

But Richard did not stop there. There were a few more parts of her that were yet to be filled with his desire, his passion, that were yet to feel his affection. And he was already there, so he went to work right away, on her toes and the soles of her feet, finishing in a matter of seconds.

The briefs were still in Nicole's possession, while the thong was still in Richard's. Casting the briefs aside, she laid back down on the bed. Her chest heaved, standing firmly and staying that way, as she braced herself.

Reeling for a second, Richard swallowed as he took in detail after detail. To say that his wife was beautiful, it would not do her justice. She would shame the most fragrant of flowers, the finest of paintings, without much effort. Every day, he'd cast his eyes on her. And each time, she'd take his breath away. Now, he was almost suffocating. Remnants of his hesitation manifested through his rigid body, through his tightening grip around her undergarment.

It seemed strange—and frightening—how one night held immense weight for him. How one night would be the very gauge of his masculinity…

But there was no turning back. This was their moment of truth. This much he knew, and he wasn't going to go back on his word.

Discarding his wife's thong, Richard mounted her and began. Once again, their faces were within reach of each other. Their breaths left their mouths in an uneven interval. Like the breeze of the springtime wind, they caressed the other's cheeks. The more she felt it, the more forceful the animal in her pounded.

Further and further Richard pushed himself. By the second, Nicole grew tense from his affection. Their screams rang across the room, across the house, out the window and all over Elmore.

Warmth coursed throughout their bodies as the portly rabbit steadied himself, his movements, and the doubts in his mind were warded off. What started as a pain began to transform as it disseminated all over. At first it was instantaneous, catching them off-guard, with no room for anticipation, to adjust. But each waking second, the pain had turned into bliss. Powerful.

The sensation was strong and only grew stronger the more he pushed, the more she gained her fill of him. But it was at its strongest between their legs. Traces of pain lingered amidst the sensation, though they were minuscule. Still and all, it mattered to neither of them. The good, the bad and everything in between, they accepted it without hesitation, without questioning.

"Ah! Richard!" yelled Nicole, throwing her head back and her lower extremities upward.

"Yeah?" asked Richard in return with a shout as loud as hers, keeping her pinned by her wrists.

All he needed from her were two words:

"Keep going!"

The hours wore on, and the night sky was soon studded with the pale white moon and an array of stars performing their dances around it. Richard and Nicole were still united by the spaces between their legs. His pushes grew rabid, and she reciprocated his gestures. The euphoria built in him—in the both of them. He was drawing from a strength he never knew he had. A strength born from an immovable will, summoned only under a condition such as this.

And at last, he shuddered in his poise. Screaming at the height of his lungs, Richard threw his head back as he expelled himself into his wife. The rush of it was just as sudden as the initial thrust, except it had more of a…punch, shall we say…behind it. In one, two, three bursts it flowed. This was Nicole's favorite part, and she had to make an effort not to get overly excited, not to act like too much of a child.

Seconds later, Richard and Nicole Watterson laid on the bed, eyes fixed on the other. The last hour or three had left them drained beyond belief. She smiled. He smiled. That was all that their remaining strength permitted them to do. He had long since dislodged from her and fought to stay awake. For her, it was no problem. Even when it seemed that he called the shots, in the end she was always tougher-built.

"Like the good old days huh, honey?" asked Richard quietly, a tender yet fragile smile upon his face.

"Oh, yeah," whispered Nicole. Again she reminisced on their honeymoon, on the first time they've done this. Everything was so vivid to her. They were young back then—young and foolish, wild and free. Free to make their affection known. They were young once more.

The fatigue swelled in Richard, ensnaring him, and at last he succumbed to the temptation, his eyes shutting delicately. His smile stayed on him. Nicole always found him endearing like this. That night was no different.

Caressing his forehead and then his cheek with the back of her fingers, Nicole gave her husband yet another peck on his lips. "Sleep tight, my love."

From head to toe, they felt each other in full. From head to toe, the two of them were one. A cat and a rabbit. A husband and his wife. Their love was vast, pure and unconditional. In body, in heart, in soul and in spirit, they were one.

Now and forever.

I may write a full-fledged story based on the show depending on how well this one turns out. I do have a few transcripts saved, and it may be a nice change of pace from focusing on Yin Yang Yo! If you're keen on seeing my other stories, by the way, they're based off of that show.

As usual, reviews are much appreciated and welcome. And thank you for your readership. Signing out.

- CRMartin