Baguette
Belle purred as she draped her leg over Beast's thigh, her hair a tangled mess at the back of her head, and her body almost boneless from her husband's thorough lovemaking. His claws tickled her hip as he held her around the waist, his back propped up by a mass of pillows and the ornate headboard of their bed. Belle's fingers got lost in his fur, sensually running them through it until she felt his chest and abdomen rumbling with a satisfied growl.
It had never mattered that the Enchantress' curse wasn't lifted, that she had lied to Beast. In the past, there were days he would lament about the way he used to look; he would urge Belle to leave and find someone better, someone she could venture out with and see the world.
But Belle had never wanted adventure, in the end. She wanted connection—with someone, anyone. For someone to see her, and know her.
And she had found that with Beast. He saw her and loved her as she was, and as she would always be.
How could Belle not do the same for Beast, especially on those days when he would mourn his appearance?
She would snatch his face down to hers, forming her lips over his. She would lick the fangs of his underbite, stroke along his horns with her fingertips, and roam her hands over the massive expanse of his fur.
The first time, Beast had been utterly bewildered by her boldness, at a complete loss for words. But as she led him to the bedroom, undressing for him, she saw his eyes wander and linger over her form—she saw him forgetting his insecurities.
And when she fearlessly lowered herself onto him, tossing her head back with a wanton moan, she felt those insecurities leaving him entirely—replaced with desire and need. He had watched her, awed, keeping his hands on her hips—mindful of his claws (later on, she would tell him not to). Belle had ground her hips on him, keeping him buried within her as his massive furry hands explored her body.
And then the moment came, and their pleasure peaked, sending them crashing into each other like waves. They cried out together (Beast had roared, and it sent an erotic thrill through Belle), and she collapsed on top of him.
It had been their first time sharing flesh, sharing a bed.
Panting and slightly damp from sweat, Belle had climbed up Beast's body to kiss him tenderly, "I love you, darling. As you are."
Beast's qualms about his appearance soon faded after that first time, and now they laid comfortably in their bed—hair and fur more than a little mussed from their rigorous sex. The bed would need replacing some time soon—their fourth one. Belle smiled at this fact, burying her face into Beast's chest. Her leg rubbed his thigh and groin, lightly jostling his soaked, softening cock. Beast squeezed her to his side as he reached for his pipe from the side table, and soon the air was filled with the comforting scent of the smoke.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked curiously before taking a long drag. He exhaled, and his underbite fangs caused the smoke to come out the sides of his mouth in fragrant, purple-gray swirls.
Belle un-buried her face from his chest and smiled up at Beast, reaching to cup his cheek, "How far we've come, my dearest."