AN: WARNING. MATURE CONTENT ALERT. This chapter contains smut, so if literary porn isn't your thing, click out now. It's nothing traumatizing, just your basic vanilla smut. Nothing else of import happens except Baelfire having an awesome time at the festival and Rumple and Belle having a great night together. Which starts with wine and ends in cuddles. For Accio-firewhiskey's prompts, 'fevered, honey, fatigue, spam, feast' and 'sorrow doing a new dance'. Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my reviewer oriental bunny, whose sweet messages really helped get this beast done. Thank you for everyone else's lovely comments too, I hope it lives up to the expectation!

"Belle was looking for you," Baelfire announced to his father. Rumplestiltskin had eventually meandered back towards the house, herding the sheep into their pen. He didn't answer his son, keeping his eyes on the livestock. Baelfire frowned at this lack of reaction.

"It sounded important," He persisted. There was a tremor in Rumplestiltskin's cheek but still he said nothing.

Baelfire sighed impatiently. "Did you two have a fight?" Rumplestiltskin glanced at him, a little surprised at the question.

"Because if you did," Baelfire continued. "She probably wanted to apologize to you this morning…"

"She has nothing to apologize for," Rumplestiltskin said without thinking. Baelfire stared at him, waiting for further explanation. He didn't get any. Rumplestiltskin latched the pen and wiped his brow.

"Well," Baelfire huffed, kicking a stone in annoyance. "When she gets back to the village, then you can talk to her."

Rumplestiltskin's head jerked up. "She went to the village alone?"

Baelfire nodded. Rumplestiltskin's brows knitted in worry. If she'd wanted to go to the village, why hadn't she asked him to—oh. He cursed his cowardice. Because he was too busy hiding from her. He was such a filthy weakling. He was half-tempted to run to the village and seek her out, but fretted that asking for her would alert her presence too much. Before he could think of a plan, Baelfire exclaimed,

"There she is, papa!"

Rumplestiltskin swiveled to see Belle ambling up towards them, a slight smile on her face. Her hood was drawn but to Rumplestiltskin's chagrin, she was wearing her fine blue cloak, the one that announced her as nobility. Baelfire trotted towards her, embracing her warmly.

"Don't go to the village alone again, Belle," Baelfire scolded her. "Papa was worried about you."

Belle's cheeks tinged pink. "I'm sorry," She said a little breathlessly. "I just wanted to—pick up something." She held up a slightly dusty bottle of wine.

"Wow, what's that?" Baelfire asked interestedly, reaching for it. Belle laughed as she swatted his hands away.

"You'll have plenty of sweets at the feast tonight," She admonished him lightly. "It's just some wine. I don't really feel up to going out and dancing with the rest of the village, so I thought I might coerce your father into sharing a bottle with me." She smiled at Rumplestiltskin.

He stared at her. What was she on about? He'd been terribly brazen last night and rather than shrinking from him, she'd brought home a bottle of wine? The faintest glimmer of hope flickered through him—that perhaps—just perhaps—his attentions weren't unwanted. He shook the thought away firmly. There was no sense in wishing in fruitless dreams.

Baelfire grinned. "That's a good idea, Belle. Papa never sleeps during the Feast of the Reul Ghorm, you can keep him company."

Rumplestiltskin glanced between the two of them uncertainly. He cleared his throat.

"All right, Bae, inside, son," He said finally. "We've a lot to get done before you leave."

XXXXXX

Baelfire loved the feast. He tried to contain his excitement, knowing how his father would worry, but he couldn't help it. There was nothing like running about the forest with his closest friends, chasing fireflies, pretending to be a ghoul. The brisk night was a perfect setting. Most of the villagers had spent the majority of the day placing torches along the forest paths and preparing the bonfires in front of the houses. Baelfire could not wait to see the forest and village all lit up in the firelight. It would be magnificent.

Baelfire also looked forward to leaving his father alone with Belle.

He was no fool. He knew from the beginning that the chances of Belle and his father falling in love were slim. He'd tried very hard not to become attached to Belle, but of course, that was impossible. Belle was pretty, kind, fun, and nurturing, the kind of woman Baelfire had always dreamed of having for a mother.

Still, Baelfire had given his father and Belle a great deal of scrutiny. As of late…just perhaps, there could be a chance.

He could tell his father was enamored. Rumplestiltskin had never smiled, never laughed as he did now. Despite his initial nervousness, he was perfectly at ease with her—something about her gentility and serene nature relaxed him.

Belle however, was a different story. Baelfire knew that a pretty maiden like Belle could have any man she wanted. Most of the ballads and stories he loved involved the princess falling in love with a knight, or a handsome prince, or a daring farm boy. Meek spinners didn't have a place in the old tales. Still, Baelfire fiercely believed that his father deserved a princess. But that was for naught if the princess didn't love him back…

However, Belle seemed to have a fondness for his father. At first, Baelfire had thought it was just a passing tenderness for someone who'd given her shelter. But courtesy and kindness did not extend to the way she looked at him now, eyes shining, lips slightly parted, as they ate a quiet dinner together. She visibly brightened whenever Rumplestiltskin spoke and she seemed to delight in hearing his laughter. Baelfire noticed her flush when their fingers brushed as she served them a savory lamb stew.

Maybe, just maybe, Belle didn't want a prince. Maybe Belle could understand what made Baelfire's father so special and love him the way Gruoch never could. Baelfire wasn't naïve to the fate of his mother; he'd heard the rumors and gossip about his parents' marriage. Belle had asked him about his mother once, and he'd skirted the question, afraid the story would paint his parents in a poor light. He never faulted his mother for leaving him, because he believed that heartbreak was enough to destroy even the strongest of souls.

The Feast of the Reul Ghorm was the perfect chance for Belle and Rumplestiltskin to be alone together. When the sun set, Baelfire knew where his first stop would be—the Reul Ghorm's glen, to leave her a small offering and ask for her blessing. Maybe her magic would bring his father and Belle together.

"All right, Bae," Rumplestiltskin said as Belle cleared the supper dishes. "You remember what I told you."

"Yes, papa," Baelfire tried not to roll his eyes. "The same thing as last year! Stay close to the group, stay on the lit path, don't wander off by myself, if I see wolves to run home."

"Good," Rumplestiltskin said firmly. "And you're to return right at dawn. Not a moment later."

"Yes, papa," Baelfire nodded obediently. Belle finished wiping down the table and retrieved a wool cloak from the back room. She placed it around Baelfire's shoulders.

"Bundle up," She advised, stroking his cheek lovingly. "It will get cool in the woods at night." Baelfire grinned at her and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Laughing, she tousled his dark hair and stood, leading Baelfire to the doorway.

"Bye Belle, bye papa," Baelfire waved cheerfully. "Love you both! See you at dawn!" He tramped out into the dying light, following the hoots and hollers of the other children.

XXXXXX

A soft, warm smile spread across Belle's face at Baelfire's farewell. It had been an offhand goodbye, but Belle had heard him say he loved her. That this sweet, kind boy felt that kind of affection towards her nearly brought her to tears. It made her long, once again, to be a part of this family, this quiet, safe place that she loved.

She glanced at Rumplestiltskin, whose eyes were fixed upon his son's disappearing form. She bit her lip nervously, wishing Ciorstag had given her a little more advice on what to do. She wanted to be with him, wanted to show him how she felt but when her thoughts tried to stray farther, she became embarrassed and shy. She hoped Ciorstag was right about the wine.

"What now?" Belle asked Rumplestiltskin with a smile. She watched him gaze at her anxiously. She rather hoped he wouldn't bring up last night's kiss, or worse, apologize for it. But apparently, Rumplestiltskin didn't quite have the nerve to do so. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Well," He scratched the back of his neck. "I usually—if it's warm—start a bonfire outside the house. Watch the sunset."

"Drink some wine?" Belle invited, gesturing towards the dusty bottle, still patiently sitting on the table.

Rumplestiltskin tilted his head. "I suppose so…although, I've never had company before."

"Ah," Belle's eyes sparkled. "Would you feel up to breaking that tradition?"

He cracked a smile. "I think I could be amenable to that."

It didn't take long to start the blaze. Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin had already prepared a pile of firewood for just that purpose, so it was only a matter of arranging the wood and setting it aflame. Once it was burning properly, Belle dragged over two heavy stones for them to sit on. She also brought a few books.

They hadn't had a proper reading lesson in a while, so they very contentedly started a new book, Belle patiently guiding him, one finger running along the page.

"A s-soldier's a man," Rumplestiltskin slowly read. "O, man's life's but a spam…"

Belle couldn't help but giggle. "Span," She corrected gently.

"Damn it," Rumplestiltskin grumbled. "Damn 'n's and 'm's look the same…"

"You're still doing really well," Belle told him honestly. "I'm proud of you. I think you'll be reading faster than me, soon."

"I doubt that," Rumplestiltskin snorted, closing the book. The two sat in silence, watching the evening turn to a pale blue twilight. Belle sighed a little, deciding to uncork the bottle of wine. She poured a plentiful amount into two wooden cups, handing the first to Rumplestiltskin. He accepted it with a small smile, taking a heavy drink.

Belle tasted it. She'd never been much of a wine drinker—or any kind of drinker, to begin with. But to her surprise, Ciorstag's wine was sweet and rich, with the barest hint of strawberries tickling her tongue. She finished her first cup quickly and poured herself another.

"Do you like it?" She asked hopefully. Rumplestiltskin inclined his head in acknowledgement, so Belle poured him a second cupful. Ciorstag was right; the wine did seem to relax her. She felt its headiness sink into her bones, loosening her muscles and fuzzing her brain rather nicely.

In the distance, they watched more bonfires being lit. Belle heard the light strains of merry music beginning to swarm the village and spread throughout the countryside. She smiled at the figures, dancing to the music, taking another light sip of wine.

"Do you ever join them?" She gestured with her cup towards the circle of people, singing along with the music.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "I told you, I'm not much of a dancer," He glanced at his leg wryly.

"Not even to watch?" Belle asked as he took a long sip.

He shook his head again. "I wouldn't want to ruin their fun with my presence," He said softly, sorrow doing a new dance across his features. Belle thought of Ciorstag's words, how the village had never forgiven him.

Deciding, she stood, placing her cup down. She smiled at Rumplestiltskin, offering her hand. "Stand up."

Blinking at her, he obeyed.

"Could I have this dance sir," Belle asked grandly, giving him an extravagant curtsy.

Rumplestiltskin let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a cough and a laugh. "Belle—I can't…" He said helplessly, hand gripping his staff.

"Nonsense," Belle declared. She gave him another bright smile, lifting his right palm towards hers. She touched her hand to his, and he lowered his head in a light bow while she did the same. Listening to the far off music, she twirled around him, her feet kicking in the familiar steps of one of her favorite dances. Rumplestiltskin began to laugh as she continued to dance around his still form, skirts twirling about. He extended his arm and she took it, spinning out away from him, humming along with the music.

She spun towards him, and he caught her with both arms. She felt her heart began to pound, although for the first time, (perhaps due to the wine) she was no longer unsure and fearful. Belle gazed at him, lightly touching his chest with her fingertips.

His arms, still around her from the one-sided dance, remained paused on her figure. "You are a marvel," He murmured in wonder.

Belle wetted her lips to speak. "Rumplestiltskin," She whispered. She noticed the pressure of his fingers on her forearms increase the barest fraction. Before she could finish her statement a cold gust of wind whipped about the two, causing her to shiver in his grasp. He dropped his arms and her heart sank.

"We—we should go inside," Rumplestiltskin said, turning away from her. Belle sighed but followed suit, picking up the bottle and their cups while he kicked dirt to staunch the fire.

They entered the house. The embers at the hearth were still glowing from dinner, and Belle gratefully stoked them, as the house was getting chilly in the night air. She knelt, glancing at the contents of the bottle.

"There's enough for two more cups," She offered.

Rumplestiltskin hesitated. "Aren't you tired?" He asked nervously.

"Not a bit," Belle affirmed cheerfully. "Bae said you never sleep during the Feast. I promised to keep you company, didn't I?" She beckoned for him to join her.

He paused for one more moment before finally joining her, awkwardly stretching out his bad leg so he didn't put any weight on it. Belle poured the rest of the wine into their cups and toasted him with a warm smile.

They sat in companionable silence, listening to the crickets sing though the open window, and the fire crackle merrily. Belle savored her wine contentedly, before Rumplestiltskin finally spoke, breaking her out of her dreamy reverie.

"Why did you go to the village this morning?"

Belle sipped thoughtfully, concentrating on the light taste of strawberries and the lovely streams of relaxation that seemed to flow through her veins. "I went to see Ciorstag," She revealed.

Rumplestiltskin froze. "C-Ciorstag," He stammered, thinking in terror the thousands of things Ciorstag could've told Belle. "Why did you go to her?"

Belle considered the question. "I wanted her advice," She said finally. "And she gave me it, as well as the wine we're enjoying."

"I—I see," Rumplestiltskin looked about ready to down his drink and hide in the back room for the rest of the night, no matter what Belle said about keeping him company. "Advice…advice about what?"

Belle's cheeks reddened. She took a final swallow of her wine, emboldening her nerve.

"I wanted to know," She stated clearly. "What I could do to get you to kiss me again."

XXXXXX

A log from the fire shifted, causing sparks to fly up between the two. Belle barely noticed the noise, eyes fixed upon the spinner. Rumplestiltskin was not aware of it either, too busy wondering if he'd heard wrong—or if he was dreaming. Perhaps he was drunk…but he'd only had a few cups of mild wine, certainly not enough to warrant hallucinations…

Belle was looking at him, waiting for a response.

He could only manage out, "You—you asked her…?"

Belle's smile could have lit up the room. "More or less. She said—that you wouldn't kiss me again, because you would have some silly idea in your head that I didn't want you."

Rumplestiltskin could only stare at her.

She reached towards him, taking his hand. "But I do," She said softly. "I do want you." She leaned towards him, her other hand coming to rest at the side of his face.

At this, Rumplestiltskin regained some semblance of sanity. "Belle—no," He averted her touch but couldn't seem to manage the willpower to draw his hand away. "I'm…I'm not at all right for you, love."

"Yes, you are," Belle said stubbornly.

"I'm old enough to be your father," He tried to bark out a laugh but only ended up sounding like he had a bad cough.

"That doesn't matter to me." She began to caress his weathered hand with her thumb.

She was making a mistake. Desperately, Rumplestiltskin gripped her hand earnestly. "Belle, love, you're young, beautiful, and clever. There are better men for you…younger, braver, richer…men who deserve your attentions and affections."

"I don't want them." She drew her hand up towards his face again. This time, he couldn't bear to stop her. She was closer to him; he could feel the warmth of her body and the soft brush of her breath against his face.

"You deserve a knight in shining armor, as those old ballads say," He whispered, leaning his forehead against hers, trying one more time to convince her to come to her senses.

"I had a knight in shining armor," Belle whispered back. "I want you."

At this, Rumplestiltskin had no choice but to close his eyes as she kissed him.

XXXXX

Belle had been kissed before. At sixteen, Gaston had given her a short, awkward kiss at the announcement of her engagement. It had been brief, wet, and altogether dull. At eighteen, he'd given her a deeper kiss in the library, which she'd accepted only due to curiosity. She remembered feeling greatly disappointed. In every romance she'd ever read, true love's kiss had been described as something incredible, wonderful—something indescribable. Gaston's kiss in the library had been better than her first, but it was still not what she'd hoped for. There were no sparks of desire, no longing; she did not feel as though she'd been lifted into the clouds.

She'd begun to believe that her books were wrong.

But when her lips touched Rumplestiltskin's, she realized that the love stories were right.

His lips were soft and firm and he tasted of wood smoke and honey. He kissed her gently enough, but it still seemed to send her senses reeling and her heart racing.

She paused the kiss for half a moment to gauge his reaction, pressing her forehead to his. His eyes were still closed as she pulled away lightly and she couldn't help her smile.

Belle leaned into him, capturing his lips again. His hands came to her face, cradling her cheeks tenderly. She ran her tongue along his lower lip and experimentally teased it. She felt him inhale sharply and suddenly he was kissing her deeply, almost frantically, one arm pulling her against his chest, wrapping itself around her waist. Their teeth clanked together as he awkwardly tried to match his lips to her small mouth. She giggled, giving him a quick kiss on his nose before returning to his lips.

When their tongues met, Belle heard him make a strange little noise, somewhere between a groan and a gasp. She decided she liked the sound, and began to explore his mouth, loving the taste of him. Gaston's kisses had never been this appealing or this delicious for that matter. She was nearly on his lap, determined to seek out every taste of smoke and honey she could find, twisting her fingers in his hair. His hair was softer than she'd imagined.

This was better than the wine and far more intoxicating. She hummed against him contentedly, the kiss slowing down. He tentatively took control of the kiss, slowly entwining his fingers in her dark curls, his tongue stroking against her own, his hands sliding up and down her sides. She was beginning to feel dizzy, the mixing sensations overwhelming and consuming her.

They broke apart, each breathing heavily. Belle had somehow ended up completely on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck. She laughed again, gazing into Rumplestiltskin's fevered eyes. She was beginning to understand the dark, headiness in his brown eyes. He wanted her. He desired her. The realization made her stomach flutter and something warm coil in her abdomen. She kissed him again, trailing town to his jaw. Her lips found his pulse-point and she felt his heartbeat leap at her touch and his breath quicken.

Encouraged, she continued down his neck, flicking her tongue out occasionally to taste the salty sheen of his skin. When she nibbled his earlobe, she felt him jerk, and he pulled away from her.

"Belle," Rumplestiltskin's voice was coming out in short, heavy breaths and he was astutely looking down, away from her. "We—we should stop…"

"I don't want to stop," Belle said boldly.

"Yes—but—we should," He said rather desperately, his fingers running through her hair, as if to distract himself. Belle frowned.

"I disagree," She returned, going back to tasting his neck. She paused in her ministrations. "Unless—unless you don't want me…"

He laughed hoarsely. "Don't want you? It's—because I want you, sweet. But—we should—we should wait…" She shifted on his lap, feeling something warm and hard—oh. Belle flushed, pleased to feel this physical proof.

She watched him, her eyes filled with tenderness. She raised her hand to his cheek, her fingers ghosting over his lips. He impulsively caught her hand, kissing her fingertips. She felt the delightful heat spread into her belly and she knew with wondrous and impassioned realization, that she desired him, loved him, wanted him.

"I don't want to wait," Belle said softly and it seemed her words undid him. He melted into her, their kisses becoming more and more fervent.

XXXXX

Rumplestiltskin knew he should stop. He didn't deserve to feel her sweet lips, her fingers carding his hair, and he certainly did not warrant the captivated heat in her blue eyes. But she was pressing harder against him, moaning into his mouth, the sensation of her hot kisses against his neck making his senses sing. She tasted like strawberries and rain, sweet and fresh and perfect. He craved her like oxygen and it was shorting out his mind, taking away all reason.

Somehow, they ended up sprawled on the ground, the blankets she usually slept on providing a soft barrier against the hard floor. He was half on top of her, her hands running up and down his back and digging into his skin when he cautiously nipped her lower lip. She was arching against him, and it was all he could do to keep from rutting against her like an animal. He was losing control quickly.

He broke away from her, gasping. "Belle, we should—" But apparently Belle had grown tired of his weak protests, using the front of his shirt to pull him back down towards her welcoming mouth.

He froze when her hands slipped under his shirt, touching his chest, stroking, grazing him with her nails. He groaned into her chestnut hair. He was so very out of his depth. He wanted so badly to please her, to make her feel every blessed thing he was feeling.

The only other woman he'd ever been with had been his wife. In the early years of their marriage, he'd bent over backwards trying to make her happy, giving her gentle caresses and kisses, whispering sweet endearments in her ear. He'd even gone to Ciorstag—as mortifying as that was—to ask how to pleasure his wife. It hadn't made much of a difference. No matter the encounter, Gruoch had remained stock-still, fists clenched, eyes tightly closed. She'd rebuffed him when he tried anything else.

But Belle was not Gruoch. She had never once looked at him with disdain or dull apathy, returning his kisses, ignoring him every time he tried to halt their proceedings. She cared for him. She desired him, as impossible as it was. And with every kiss, with every touch, he was finding it harder to fight her.

"Gods, Belle," He hissed against her skin and she gave him that beautiful smile, the one she reserved especially for him, tinted with mischief and warmth. He began to return the favor, kissing her pale throat, licking and nipping down to her collarbone. He felt her shiver against his body.

She stopped him for a moment, reaching towards the laces of her dress. Rumplestiltskin watched, transfixed as she slowly unlaced the front, the cloth easily falling away, pulling aside her light shift, and revealing round and perfect breasts. Her cheeks tinged pink, but her expression was adoring and amorous. She bit her lip invitingly.

Rumplestiltskin raised a trembling hand to touch but faltered, afraid to touch with his rough and clumsy fingers. With a sweet laugh, she took his hand, pressing it to palm her breast. He exhaled sharply, hands curling around her. He watched her eyes flutter at his touch. Hesitantly, he kissed her throat, grazing it lightly with his teeth. He cupped her breast, squeezing gently and Belle moaned, arching towards him. Sighing with relief, he lowered his head to kiss her breast the same way he had her neck, worrying her nipple with his teeth, carefully listening for any signs of displeasure or discomfort. She gave none, except another one of her beautiful breathy little moans, fingers tugging on his hair.

He pressed more open-mouthed kisses to the valley of her breasts, performing a similar treatment to the other. He laved this nipple with his tongue, shivering as it pebbled. He slowly trailed down to her white belly, leaving hot kisses to each exposed bit of flesh, loving how she shuddered against his mouth and pulled at his hair.

Belle was pulling on his shirt—why was she—he realized that she wanted him to take it off. Swallowing hard he sat up, and obeyed her direction. Her eyes brightened as he shoved it off of, nervously avoiding her gaze. She sat up towards him, placing her hand on his chest, letting her fingers dance across, lightly sliding through the sparse hair. She traced swirls and circles up and down, watching with heat as he shook at her touch. She kissed again, arms encircling his back and he melted into her.

XXXXX

Belle rocked her hips against him and he gasped, gripping her harder, his kisses becoming more impassioned. His lips were against her breasts again and she cried out, feeling as though electricity had shot through her veins. She wanted him closer, as close as possible, but her skirts were getting in the way. Impatiently, she unbuttoned the rest of her dress, sliding out of it and pushing it away from her. She was left only in a white shift, practically transparent.

Rumplestiltskin's eyes seem to range from awe to ravenous hunger, and Belle blushed. She had never undressed in front of a man and although his eyes far from shamed her, she was still nervous. Still, thoughts of propriety had fled from her mind long ago.

They still seemed to plague Rumplestiltskin however, because he swallowed hard. "Belle," He said hoarsely. "We…it's not…"

"It's all right," She whispered, pulling him towards her. "I want to. Please." Perhaps it was wrong. But all Belle could think was that she needed to be with the one she loved.

He licked his lips, eyes flicking away from her. He looked terribly unsure and it made Belle's heart swell with love for him.

"I want to be with you," She said quietly. "I do. Please."

XXXXXX

At first, Rumplestiltskin was at a loss for what to do next. He was literally throbbing for her, wanted nothing more than to lose himself within her. He'd never desired a woman so ardently before. But more than anything else, he wanted to bring her to heights of pleasure, wanted her to choke his name. He just wasn't completely sure how to go about it.

A fleeting memory of something Ciorstag had told him long ago flew through his mind. Hesitantly, he brought his trembling fingers to her legs, sliding her skirts aside to touch the soft skin beneath. He drew his fingers upwards as he brushed his lips against hers. When he reached her inner thighs, he stopped.

He stared at her, waiting for her permission. She gave him a tiny, imperceptible nod, her blue eyes shining with both trust and nervousness. He would not, could not let her down.

Carefully, he stroked her, the tips of his fingers barely grazing over her curls, slowly moving lower. She watched him with scorching intent, and Rumplestiltskin nearly groaned aloud when he felt the dampness of her folds. She truly did desire him and the thought was enflaming. He pressed deeper, searching for her core.

When his fingers found the small bud of nerves, he felt her flinch beneath him, and quickly realized how sensitive she was. He backed off for a moment, fingers exploring her depths, then returning to circle her core without touching directly. This time, she moaned, arching into him. He continued his motions, seeking out what made her cry out, cautiously sliding two fingers into her, biting his lip at her tight heat.

She was panting and her fingers were raking down his chest, the pain a welcome distraction from his pounding erection. He realized he'd been putting a great deal of weight on his bad leg without even noticing—he would pay for that come morning.

Focusing, with two fingers, he began to circle her core once again, ever so slightly stroking against her. This time, she jerked against him, keening like a cat, a flood of moisture beginning to drench his fingers. She kissed him hard, savagely biting his lower lip, as he paused on her core. She bucked into his hand, crying out, a noise that Rumplestiltskin knew he would hear in his dreams forever. He crooked his fingers within her and she shuddered violently, giving another beautiful cry, sobbing out her pleasure.

He removed his hand from her, kissing her passionately. She smiled at him dazedly, her hands reaching towards the laces of his breeches.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed again. "We don't have to—"

She pressed her fingers against his lips. "I told you. I want to." His mouth dry, he nodded and began to remove his breeches, watching Belle out of the corner of his eye. She was removing her shift and was gloriously naked, all smooth curves and pale skin. She was so incredibly beautiful Rumplestiltskin couldn't breathe, his mental faculties completely gone. She smiled at him shyly and her arms reached out. He fell into her embrace clumsily and she giggled as she pressed light kisses to his chest.

XXXXX

He pushed into her too eagerly and Belle gasped at the unfamiliar pain. He froze immediately, eyes afraid.

"I'm okay," She whispered, tenderly brushing a strand of brown hair from his face. "Don't stop."

Rumplestiltskin broached her more carefully, stopping whenever he saw pain on her face, giving her tiny sipping kisses whenever her brow wrinkled. Belle concentrated on the contoured angles of his chest, the gold flecks in his eyes as she struggled to accommodate him. She kissed him deeply. After all of her worries, all this time, he was with her. She wrapped her legs around his calves, focusing on simply breathing, listening to his rapid heartbeat.

"Am I hurting you?" He whispered agitatedly.

Belle shook her head, smiling happily. The pain hadn't lasted long and the thought that she was giving her most intimate self to this man, the man she loved, comforted and soothed her. The tension began to leave her and she began to relax into him, rocking against him.

He followed suit, moving slowly within her, his strokes easy and gentle. She gave kissed the sides of his throat, nipping and sucking.

All at once, Belle gasped, a sliver of pleasure shooting within her like lightning. Rumplestiltskin looked at her with alarm and moved to withdraw. She wrapped her legs around his waist to stop him, pulling him deep within her. This time, Rumplestiltskin let out a choked gasp.

"Keep going," Belle whispered into his ear. "Harder…"

He increased the pace of his rhythm, encouraged by her sobbing breaths and delighted moans. She ran her hands up and down his back, her feet kneading little circles into his lower back. She sunk her teeth into his clavicle and he shouted hoarsely, his thrusts becoming deeper and more demanding. All at once, he jerked erratically and she felt a sudden rush of heat within her. She wrapped his arms around him lovingly, pressing kisses to his jaw-line.

For a moment, they lay there, tangled in each others' arms, his face buried in her hair. Then Rumplestiltskin grabbed one of the blankets near the hearth and wrapped it around the two of them. Belle snuggled into him, pillowing her head against his chest and closing her eyes.

"Are you cold?" He asked her worriedly.

"No," She sighed dreamily.

"Are you in pain?"

She shook her head sleepily.

"You're sure…you're sure you're okay?"

Belle opened on eye. "I'm perfect," She murmured. "I'm happy. I…I love you."

He was suddenly very still but to Belle's fatigued mind, it didn't seem to matter. She closed her eyes again, feeling sated and safe in her lovers' arms, and fell asleep.

Rumplestiltskin, however, did not sleep a wink.