Chapter 2 – Between Broken and We are Both
Or
Over the Butter Churn
Belle had never ridden in a motor vehicle before, but once she had sunk into the soft leather seat of Rumplestiltskin's large black towncar, she decided she liked it. Much less bumpy than a carriage, and not even a whiff of horses. How such a thing was propelled she wasn't quite certain, but she figured it must have something to do with automatic machinery, like the devices at the asylum. At any case, Rumplestiltskin seemed to have no trouble making it move, and keeping it properly controlled, as they glided through the darkened streets of Storybrooke, many of which were littered with debris.
Did he even feel guilty for what he'd done? She hoped so. He hadn't seemed really disappointed that Regina was still alive, so perhaps that was a good sign. Perhaps he knew he'd acted rashly, and would use more care in the future. In the meantime, she'd do her best to help him soften, help him grow more gentle, and see the benefits of a life filled with kindness rather than hate.
She reached out to rest a hand on his thigh, just wanting to touch him, but before she quite got there, her stomach growled, ruining the moment. Rumplestiltskin looked at her with a gentle smile, even as her face flushed in the shadows.
"Have you even eaten today?"
"Breakfast." If you could call the gruel they served at the asylum breakfast. They hadn't ever starved her, but the food was certainly not satisfying.
"Then I shall make you something. What do you like?"
Belle had to cast her mind back to her old life in the Enchanted Forest to find an answer. But she'd rarely paid attention to food there; just that she knew she couldn't eat too much of it because she needed to stay slim. "I'm not sure."
He sighed, and she hoped he wasn't getting too frustrated. "Can you tell me what you don't like, then?"
That, she could answer. "Peanut butter sandwiches. Every evening, that's what they gave us with tea. I don't ever want to taste one again."
"They call it supper here, Rumplestiltskin said. "And you have my word, you shall never have to eat one as long as you are with me."
Forever, Belle thought, but she kept it to herself. She tried harder to cast her mind back to life in the castle with the Dark one. She'd fixed his meals there… she must have had some foods she liked. "Fruit, perhaps? We never had fruit. Except for apples. She would bring apples." There was no need to explain who she was. At times, Belle had thought about refusing them, but there had been so little variety in her meals, the sweet fruit, bitter as the source had been, was always a welcome relief.
"I happen to be rather fond of fruit, so I do have some on hand." He slowed the car and parked it. "All right, my dear, we are home."
Rumplestiltskin's house loomed large in the darkness. It might have been red or pink, Belle couldn't quite see. He insisted on carrying the clothing bags, as awkward as it was for him to get up the steps with the burdens and his cane, but she kept her mouth firmly shut, knowing that he needed to be the gentleman here. He needed to feel like he was taking care of her.
The front door was rather lovely, heavy wood with panes of colored glass. He unlocked it and let her go first, into a cavernous hall that smelled of dust. A lovely golden light glowed from above, illuminating tables and shelves full of….
"Your collection!" she gasped, unable to keep the grin from her face.
She felt his hand against the small of her back. "Indeed, my love. I keep some treasures in the shop, others here. I've found it… comforting to have things from my old life surrounding me."
Belle ran her fingers across a table stacked with fine china. "And it all needs cleaning, just as much."
There was apology in his tone. "I tend to fall behind on that. Here, I'll show you upstairs, and you can get settled, and then I'll make us something to eat. How does that sound?"
It sounded lovely indeed, and Belle was pleased to be shown on a tour of his house. How different it was from the first tour of his castle, where she had been disgusted and compelled in equal measure. Now she was just excited. Familiar treasures, like his golden fleece, as well as unfamiliar things, including an odd little device he called a 'smoke detector' that he hung right from the ceiling, though it did not light up.
Upstairs, he showed her to a lovely bedroom decorated in yellow and blue, and she instinctively knew he would never have used it. The colors were too delicate, the white furniture too feminine. Why would he even have such a place?
When he spoke, he couldn't seem to quite meet his eyes. "Belle… there's a lot to sort out here. I know you must be dreadfully tired from your ordeal, and I want you to know that there's… there's no pressure, no expectations from me. We… things… can progress at whatever speed you're comfortable with, all right? We have time now, time for everything, don't we?"
Time for everything. Perhaps he was right. Belle was bone weary, and she was certainly not feeling her most beautiful. Her hair was greasy, her cheeks were pallid, and she hadn't had a shower in days. She glanced past him, to an open door that led to the bathroom. "You have a bathtub!" she gasped, and scurried round him to examine that newfound treasure. The little room was gorgeous, tiled in cream, with a tub so large she and Rumplestiltskin could probably fit comfortably in there together (she quickly shelved away that idea for a later time), and stacks of fluffy yellow towels.
Belle felt a pair of warm, strong arms wrap around her from behind. "Would you like a hot bath?"
She could smell the lovely floral scent of the soaps and creams. "More than anything."
His soft laughter rumbled in her ear. "Then you do that, my love. Take as long as you like, and some food will be waiting when you are finished." With a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, he took his leave.
Belle sat on the soft brocade coverlet of the bed. It was so soft she gasped in pleasure. After the hard cot in the asylum, this would be like sleeping on a cloud. But she couldn't just sleep in this dress. She dumped the shopping bags on the bed, and quickly sorted the clothing between that which would fit and that which would not. There really were some lovely things. However, all of them had a vague, unpleasant smell, something that reminded her of the asylum. It took her only a moment to realize that it was plastic. Everything in the asylum had been wrapped in plastic, her meals, her changes of clothes, even her soaps and such. Well, it was a large tub. She could deal with that.
She ran herself a hot bath, added some rose oil, and sank into the water, savoring the most delicious sensation she could remember feeling. Even the tub in her father's house had not been so grand, nor had she ever been left alone to enjoy a bath without an attendant maid or two to wash her hair and fuss over the shape of her body, whether she'd gained weight, and whether or not her hands were soft enough. After going to the castle, she'd developed thick callouses, and had actually found a strange satisfaction in them, a measure of freedom in spite of the fact that she'd been bound to serve the Dark One.
At the castle, she'd only had a hip bath, but she hadn't minded it, enjoying the solitude, enjoying the strange erotic charge of being naked in his home. Near the end of her stay there, she'd started to wonder….
Damn! Damn it all to hell and back again!
How could she have forgotten?
All pleasure from the bath fled as several particular memories settled into place, memories that could very well destroy the happiness that was within her grasp. Her mind spun with possibilities.
I don't have to tell him. He might not realize. I could lie.
No real solutions presented themselves, so he washed her hair and reluctantly got out of the bath, finding a bit of joy again as soon as she realized how deliciously large and fluffy the towels were. She tucked one round herself, pleased at how well it wrapped over her whole body with space to spare. She filled the tub with fresh water so she could launder the clothes he had given her. The showerhead made it wonderfully convenient to get things rinsed out, though it was a little awkward to find enough places to hang everything to dry. Still, she managed it.
When she was finished, she realized one mistake she'd made. She had washed everything, and she was now stuck wearing nothing but that towel. That… was not convenient.
If she was very quiet, she could hear dishes clinking in the kitchen, so she knew Rumplestiltskin was downstairs, probably making her tea… no, supper. She had to get used to these new words.
On bare feet, she crept out into the hallway, feeling a little like a naughty child. His bedroom was downstairs, probably convenient for the sake of his bad leg. She crouched behind the railing and waited until he'd disappeared into a back room somewhere before scurrying down the stairs into his room. It smelled of him, bay rum cologne, and was considerably less dusty than much of the rest of the place. In a large armoire, she found several pairs of men's pyjamas, cotton so smooth and fine it felt like silk. Of all the improvements Mr. Gold had over the old Rumplestiltskin, his fashion sense had to be near the top.
"Belle?"
Gasping, she dropped the garments she'd been holding and spun towards the door. He was standing there, face taut. Was he angry? Did he already know?
"I needed something to wear," she said quickly.
He seemed to have trouble keeping his eyes on hers. "Was nothing I brought you suitable?"
Ogres, she was feeling stupider by the moment. "It's all wet."
"All of it?"
"Well… it all smelled like plastic and I don't like the smell of plastic so I washed it." The words came out in a jumbled rush.
"Where?"
"In the bathtub."
A muscle twitched on his cheek. "I have a wash machine."
"A what?"
He closed his eyes and turned away, but not before she saw his smirk. "Another of the conveniences of this world. I'll show you later. In the meantime, feel free to borrow some of my clothes, whatever you'd like. If your feet are cold, there are some warm socks in the top drawer there, by the way."
Was it possible for someone to die of embarrassment? If so, she was in grave danger. But she held her head high. "Thank you, Rumple."
"You're welcome, my dear. I'll ah… leave you to it, then." He bowed out of the room and shut the door, leaving her to her own idiocy.
An ogre's festering nut, what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? Belle, standing in his bedroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel, eyes wide as she tried to logically explain washing clothes in a bathtub. It had taken every bit of self-restraint he had not to throw her on the bed right there and have his way, especially since he knew she'd likely not protest the whole endeavour. He knew she wanted him.
However, he had his pride. He had every intention of seducing Belle, but that was what it was going to be. He was going to court her, woo her, slowly and gently seduce her the way she deserved, not simply toss her down and rut like an animal. Her initiation into the art of love would be exquisite… nothing less than perfection would do. And, as he'd learned in his very long lifetime, perfection could not be rushed.
Washing clothes in a bathtub! Sure, she'd been taking a long time up there, and he'd been rather uncomfortable, wandering around his kitchen trying not to picture her naked body in the water, but he hadn't imagined that she'd been up to that, of all things.
Yes, life with Belle was going to be interesting.
Rumplestiltskin went back to the kitchen and put the water on to boil. He set out the plate of fruit he'd prepared, along with some soft bread and cheese. He briefly considered wine, then dismissed the idea, knowing that he, too, was tired, and that a glass of wine might just put him to sleep. And tonight, whatever did or did not happen, he did not intend to be the first one to visit the land of Morpheus.
It didn't take long for her to come out, looking all too adorable in his pyjamas, which, though tailored perfectly for his body, hung too loose and too long on her smaller frame. She'd tied her damp curls at the nape of her neck with one of his pocket squares, a use which would probably destroy the fine silk, but he bit his tongue at protesting. She could burn all his damned clothes if she wanted to. And then he could burn hers, and they could just stay in this house together, naked….
Rumplestiltskin quickly moved to stand behind the kitchen chair, where his lap was neatly hidden.
Mountain ogre. Shitting mountain ogre.
"Your feast awaits, my lady."
Though he meant the comment tongue in cheek, there was real delight on Belle's face as she examined the laid-out table. "Grapes!" she exclaimed, picking up a small bunch. "Oh, I haven't had these since… I don't even remember! And pears… and what are these?"
"Bananas."
"They look like yellow smiles."
Only his Belle would ever think to make such a comparison. Rumplestiltskin sat, and peeled one for her. "Try it out, love."
Belle liked the banana. And the cheese, which she declared she hadn't tasted for ages, and the particular blend of tea he'd chosen. It was both beautiful and painful to watch her eat, watch her lovely face light up at each new taste and texture, every bit of her joy reminding him of the years she'd suffered because of his cruel pride. How many times in his life had he let one moment of foolishness cause someone else untold pain? How could she still come back to him after that? He really was the luckiest bastard alive. "I love you, Belle," he said.
She slowly set down her teacup, frowning. "And I love you."
He squeezed her hand. "Good. And… and I'm glad you're here. I want very much for you to be happy."
"I'm sure I can be… with you. If…."
Though she didn't finish the sentence, he knew. If he changed his ways. He cleared his throat. "I'll do my best, darling," he said, and in that moment, he meant it, with every bit of his small and damaged heart.
Not all of the housekeeper had been drummed out of Belle in her years away, because as soon as she was done eating, she insisted upon helping him clean things up. Then, there was nothing to do but….
"Bed," Rumplestiltskin said, because one of them had to say it.
Belle nodded. Her face was very pale. "I-I don't want to sleep by myself. We don't have to-to… do anything if you don't want to, but I've been so alone for so very long and even though that bedroom upstairs you showed me is beautiful, I just can't bear the thought of being in there alone. Not tonight."
If he didn't want to? Well, he wasn't gay, and he wasn't a eunuch, and for the past forty-five minutes he'd been sitting at a table, well aware that the beloved woman not three feet from him wasn't wearing a stitch of undergarments. There was no not wanting to about it. The fact that she was naked beneath his pyjamas just added to the erotic appeal. "There's no place I'd rather have you than by my side," he murmured, gallantly pressing his lips to the back of her hand. Or on top of me. Or beneath me. Or….
Slow down, Rumple, old boy. Mountain ogre. Mountain troll. Regina fucking a mountain troll.
That took the edge off, at least for the moment. "Come on, then, love," he said, taking her trembling hand in his. "Let's go to bed."
The more time she spent in Rumplestiltskin's bedroom, the more Belle knew it was where she wanted to spend forever. Everything, from the dusty rose wallpaper, to the soft gold coverlet, just felt more like home than any place she'd ever been before. She sat on that bed, nervously threading the sheets through her fingers while she waited for him to change into his nightclothes. She still didn't know if he planned to make love to her tonight or not. She still didn't know if she wanted him to. The food had given her energy, to be sure, but the emotions of the day were heavy upon her, and she still hadn't decided how to tell him the biggest thing. Or if she was going to tell him at all.
Maybe it might be best if they slept, and waited.
Rumplestiltskin came out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of grey pajamas identical in style to her blue ones. She laughed, and he smiled. "A matched pair, are we?"
"It looks that way." He set aside his cane and sat on the bed beside her. "I do have to say, though, you do bring a certain appeal to those garments that I never did."
He was so close, and he smelled so beautiful, of musk and man and his bay rum, she felt the heat through her whole body, from the tips of her toes to the tips of her breasts to the tips of her fingers. Surely, she was blushing, but she didn't care. As if compelled by magic, she reached up to take his face between her palms, bringing him to her for a kiss. Fairies, he tasted as good as he smelled, and his lips were so perfect, moved so beautifully, she might have died happy right then and there. But she wanted more. She rose to her knees and turned, climbing onto his lap, wrapping her legs round his hips, taking control of their embrace for the first time. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, pulling her flush against him, letting her feel, for the first time, the hard flesh between them.
At the first brush, Belle flinched, but tried to ignore the treasonous thoughts rising up, and just focus on kissing the man she loved. But then he rocked them both, pressing his erection more firmly into the notch of her body.
"I love you so much," he murmured, as he trailed moist kisses down her neck. Slowly, carefully, he lifted her from his lap and helped her stretch across the bed, lying down beside her. "Tonight is about you, my love. The only thing I want, the only thing I care about, is that you feel pleasure. If there's something you wish, only tell me and you will have it. I know the first time can be frightening, but I promise that I will do my best not to hurt you, and if there's something you don't like, or you're not comfortable with in any way, just tell me and I will cease immediately." He brushed his lips against hers. "I want this to be perfect for you, Belle."
Tears stung the back of her eyes. Damn it, why now, of all times, did he have to turn from a sinfully sexy, but selfish bastard into a sinfully sexy, totally considerate human being? How could she deceive him, when he was being so wonderful to her…?
With graceful fingers, he flicked open the first few buttons of her pyjama shirt, then leaned down to run his tongue along her exposed collarbone. The sensation shot all the way through her, to her hardened nipples, to the growing heat at her core. This was what it was supposed to feel like? Oh! He captured her mouth with his, and rested a palm on her breast, and she thought she might fly apart right out of her body.
It felt so good, but no! "No!" she cried, as she rolled away from him, right onto the floor, landing in an undignified heap on the rug.
She heard his gasp of alarm. "Belle?"
Quickly, she sat and looked over the edge of the bed, to see Rumplestiltskin's horrified face. "I'm all right." She scrambled back up, being sure to sit as far away from him as she could. "But we can't do this. It's not right."
"Fuck." The word was softly spoken, but she heard it, and she didn't blame him. For her to have lead him this far, then to pull back was downright nasty. She may not be a hardened courtesan, but she understood something of the courtesies of the mating ritual.
"I'm sorry," she said, and watched as he pushed himself into a sitting position, back against the headboard, knees drawn up.
He looked at her with wary eyes. "What's going on, Belle?" Though there was no anger in his tone, there was also no room for refusal.
She grabbed a pillow to hold against herself, another barrier between them. "I haven't been honest with you. I thought I could just… do it and not tell you, but that's not right, and I can't start our life together with a lie... it would destroy whatever happiness we could have."
He said nothing, but arched a brow, obviously waiting for her to continue.
"After I left your castle… before Regina had me abducted, I spent some time in a little town. There was a young man there, no more than a boy, really, and he was about to go off and join the army. He was afraid he would die fighting, and he didn't want to die without ever having lain with a woman."
Rumplestiltskin's eyes grew very hard. "So he took advantage of you?"
"No, not at all. I… I was willing." She looked down at the coverlet, unable to meet his gaze as she confessed this part of her tale. "You see, I was very angry with you for throwing my love back at me. And I've always been one to believe that I'm in control of my own fate, so I decided I would be in control of my virginity as well. So we spent several nights together."
"And that was that?"
Still unable to look, Belle nodded. "He went off to the army, and I was abducted. I don't know what happened to him." Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. "I don't even remember his name."
She felt firm fingertips on her chin, urging her to look upward. "Yet you were in love with him?" He was leaning across the bed, reaching out to her, eyes searching her face.
"Of course not!" The thought hadn't ever crossed her mind. She'd tried to pretend the boy was Rumplestiltskin, but of course that hadn't worked a bit. When she looked at him, she realized he seemed remarkably calm. "How angry are you?"
He almost smiled. "To tell you the truth, Belle, I'm not sure what you're expecting me to be angry about. He didn't hurt you, so I can't be angry at him, and you didn't love him, so I can't be angry at you."
"But… but I'm not a virgin."
Rumplestiltskin leaned back against the headboard once again, and rested his arms atop his drawn-up knees. "Neither am I."
Why was he trying to make jokes? "Rumple, be serious!"
"I assure you, darling, I am quite serious. You know I have a son… whom I conceived with my wife. After I lost her and became the Dark One, there were several other women… generally manipulations, deals, that sort of thing, never with emotions attached. Although, when I was young, before I met the woman who was to be my wife, there was this dairymaid in the village. I don't remember her name, but she had the biggest…." He stopped, eyes gleaming.
Belle, still scarcely able to believe she was hearing what she was hearing, decided to play along. "Bosom, right?" She tried not to look down at her own chest, which was respectable, but by no means impressive.
Now he looked downright mirthful. "I was going to say ass, actually. It was like pushing against a pair of jelly sacks."
"Her ass," Belle echoed, mind spinning.
"She was bent over the butter churn."
"The butter churn."
"Does that horrify you?" He was smiling gently, and she wasn't sure if she was supposed to be horrified or not. She was simply confused. How, precisely, did that work? And what the hell was he trying to do?
"I'm not sure what you're trying to say here, Rumple."
"Simply this." He took her hand and tugged, until she scooted across the bed and sat on her knees right in front of him. "When I married, I was put out to find out my wife wasn't a virgin, my adventure with the dairymaid notwithstanding. Then Milha asked me what I thought was so bloody important about my prick that it would fundamentally change who she was as a woman. And I didn't have an answer for her." He looked as unguarded, as genuine, as she'd ever seen him, and it turned Belle's heart right over.
"I think Gaston thought his… prick" (even saying the word made her blush) "was that important," she said. "Before our betrothal, he insisted that the midwife from his village examine me, to make sure my maidenhead was still intact."
Rumplestiltskin laughed, and urged her closer still. "There might be some satisfaction for those who only lie with their first and forever love, but alas, you and I are beyond that possibility. And I promise you, sweet Belle, we shall find happiness nonetheless. And… satisfaction." With those words, he began to unbutton her pyjama shirt again, the cool air sensuous against her already-overheated skin.
The relief surging through her overpowered the eroticism, but only for a moment. Belle gasped as the heat began once again, that slow, luxurious swirl of feeling that seemed to pool and linger in all the parts of her body she'd been long trained to protect. "So you don't mind," she whispered, needing to hear it one more time, just for confirmation.
"Well, my darling, I'm hoping I compare favorably to your other experience, but in theory… no, I don't mind." Rumplestiltskin pushed the shirt from her shoulders, leaving her upper half bare. It was rather fascinating to watch his face as he looked at her breasts for the first time… not the slobbery, fearful greed of the army boy, but a lovely mixture of… adoration, hunger, the sort of absolute certain confidence of a man who was with the woman he loved and who loved him back.
She giggled. "That shouldn't be hard at all. It was a dreadful disappointment… awkward and uncomfortable, and all I could do was think about you, and how it was nothing like I imagined you would be. And hope it would be over quickly. Which it was."
Rumplestiltskin unbuttoned his own shirt, and tossed it away, revealing smooth, well-preserved muscles. "And how did you imagine I would be, if I took you to my bed?"
Belle could feel the blush rise, right over her exposed breasts and everywhere else. "Sort of like the way you were when you were spinning, or did magic… confident… masterful…."
"Masterful?" He threw his head back and laughed, a high, strange sound that almost reminded her of the Dark One from the castle, which only served to arouse her further. "That's setting the bar rather high, isn't it?"
Belle gathered her courage and flashed him what she hoped was a very sexy smile. "I think you can manage it." She pushed the heavy coverlet off the bed and stretched out, reaching up for him. "Care to give it a try?"
"Hell, yes," he growled, and then he was on top of her, kissing and caressing. His hands were masterfully quick, as he tugged her pants off, then his own, and she was pleased to see that he, too, was wearing nothing beneath them. By the fairies, it felt so good to be naked with him, gasping, twining her hands in his long hair as he nibbled his way down her chest, then finally, finally closing his mouth over one aching nipple.
Belle felt the spurt of sensation all the way through her torso right to the place where she was getting hotter and wetter. As much as she wanted to just lose herself, that part of her brain that always thought too much was taking over, and she began cataloguing things, bit by bit. She didn't feel nervous or guilty, like she had with the boy, and there was nothing awkward in the way Rumplestiltskin touched her… it was like his hands and mouth just knew precisely what would feel best, where would bring her the most pleasure. Her nipples. A little spot at the side of her neck. Even the crook of her elbow. Everything sent surges of liquid heat through her body, each touch more lovely than the last, drawing it all in to some sort of glowing point….
Right down there. Right where he hadn't touched her. She wanted, needed something so bad it was starting to hurt, but his beautiful hands kept skimming over her body, every place but there.
A dreadful thought swirled through her mind. What if this was why some women didn't like sex? What if this painful frustration was inevitable? She'd felt it a bit that other time, but when the boy had put his manhood inside of her, she'd thought it would be relieved. She'd been disappointed; but it had hurt, and the whole thing had been over so quickly, every time, it hadn't made a lick of difference. She forced the unpleasant thoughts away. She loved Rumplestiltskin, and if this made him happy, well, she would enjoy what she could of it and do her best to bring him pleasure. She steeled herself and closed her eyes.
"Belle…."
"I love you, Rumple," she murmured.
He gave her a small shake. "Belle, look at me."
She did, right into his darkened eyes.
"Stay with me, Belle. What's happening, here?"
"I don't know what I need," she said, before she could stop herself. "I… everything feels… I don't know… I need something, but…."
To her surprise, he smiled gently and kissed her again. "Please trust me my love, I know just what you need. Just relax and stay with me, here."
Belle kept her eyes open, locked with his, as the hand on her hip moved slowly down between her legs, right where her entire world seemed to be throbbing. His fingers, unerringly, masterfully, found exactly the right spots and began to move, pushing the heat even higher, that feeling so strong she thought it might tear her apart. She whimpered.
"Stay with me, Belle. Just focus on what you're feeling."
As if she could think about anything else. Was this natural? Was this even possible, this powerful, pressing heat coiling beneath his hand, drawing every part of herself there, in shards of ice and fire, from her toes upwards, down her spine, even the tips of her fingers.
"Rumple… Rumple…."
And then….
Oh.
There it was, bursting, swirling, lifting her right off the bed and out of her own mind, everything she'd ever thought, wanted, or felt, splintering her body and soul into ecstatic shreds, leaving her a puddle of boneless joy.
It might have been a lifetime before her mind felt whole again, and she remembered who she was and where she was and why she was lying, naked, wet, and trembling, in the arms of the man she loved who might very well be a monster. "You really are a sorcerer," she murmured. "That must have been magic."
He laughed, and kissed her sweaty forehead. "Actually, my darling, that's one of the few things I can do that requires absolutely no supernatural skill."
"So you say." She drew him closer, feeling the hard flesh of his erection against her hip. "That was most definitely masterful, though. And I don't believe we're finished."
"No, we are not." Rumplestiltskin grabbed a pillow, lifted her hips, and fitted it beneath her.
"What's that for?"
"It'll feel better. Trust me."
After what he'd just done for her, Belle was certainly willing to do that, and when he entered her, thick and hard, the feeling was so exquisite, she didn't know how she could ever doubt him. Acting on instinct, she wrapped her legs about his waist, and by his grunt of satisfaction, she decided she'd done the right thing. He began to move, and it began again, not as hot or crazy, but there nonetheless, and before she knew it, she was going back over the edge, crying out and clinging to him, and feeling him shudder as he, too, reached his peak. The boy had left her body before spilling his seed, and Belle had been too embarrassed to ask why, but she was glad to hug her beloved closer as he emptied right into her body. Even that rush of wet heat was pleasure, and she held him as tightly as she could, savoring every bit of it.
After that second burst, she really was too exhausted to move. She closed her eyes. She didn't open them again until she felt Rumplestiltskin's hand on her thigh, and she realized, to her humiliation, that he was cleaning her with a warm cloth.
"Hush," he said, before she could protest. "This will make you more comfortable."
Belle had to admit, the idea of going to sleep with his seed on her thighs didn't seem pleasant, so she kept silent. Soon, he was back in bed beside her, arms around her, and she could finally do what she'd once thought she'd never be able to do, fall asleep snuggled against her lover's chest.