… and they really just can't help themselves. Here's another almost but not quite M rated part.
Part 7
Rumplestiltskin makes a soft noise of protest when Belle moves her hands away from his chest, but that changes quickly when they find their way underneath his shirt.
He goes so still that Belle fears that she has gone too far or that she has done something wrong after all, but then he shudders and growls in a way that can't possibly be mistaken for anything but raw desire.
Before she knows it, her eager fingers have crept further underneath his silks, finding trembling muscles and only slightly rough skin beneath her fingertips. More than happy to explore, she caresses his stomach, leaving the Dark One to quiver with delight in her arms, gasping her name.
There would be nothing left of the fear which he can inspire in people, nothing whatsoever, if they were to see him like this. But that will never happen, if only because Belle wouldn't allow it. Rumplestiltskin is hers and hers alone. She'll have no one intruding on this, to see how she apparently can make him feel. This is theirs, and only more special for it.
He covers her hands with his own through the silk fabric, as if to guide her or pull her away. Belle stills in reaction, not certain what he is trying to tell her. But then he squeezes gently in encouragement, and she continues immediately, his hands remaining atop hers.
"I just want to be sure," Rumplestiltskin mutters, the sentence ending in a contented sigh when her hands are sliding over his skin once more.
Belle doesn't know what he is talking about, not until she notices that he does nothing but resting his hands on hers, going where she brings them. She wouldn't have believed that he's only doing this to make sure that this is truly real, that those hands are hers and so much more than his own dream or fantasy, if it weren't for the fact that he is much more intent on holding her hands than guiding them.
Continuing her exploration, she slides her hands upwards, grateful that the loose material of his shirt allows her for so much movement. Her curious fingers find a small nub and she smiles with joy and undeniable pride when Rumplestiltskin makes another one of those delightfully desperate noises as she tentatively touches it.
She locates a similar spot quickly and soon her touches are no longer light and careful. She caresses and even scratches him less and less gently when the increased roughness has him grunting her name and pleading for more.
Belle becomes quite breathless herself when she notices that she experiences something seemingly similar to him. Initially, the way her chest rubbed against his back was merely a coincidence, nothing but a means of getting closer to him so she could reach new parts of him.
But now she finds that this accidental friction creates the same sensations as his hands did when he touched her in the kitchen. Wanting to experience as much of this delightful feeling as she can, she firmly and purposefully pushes herself against Rumplestiltskin's backside.
He becomes only more vocal at the increased contact, which leads to the unexpected conclusion that his voice too adds to the desire that is washing over her. Kissing his neck with more vigor, a previously unknown part of her wonders just how much she can do like this - or rather, how much she can undo.
Maneuvering until she can peek over his shoulder, Belle glances down his body. Her breath falters for a few seconds when she takes in the part of him that made itself felt when he was pressed so wonderfully tightly against her in the kitchen. Belle might not be able to actually see it, but the distinctive bulge in his leathers is unmistakable.
Even if she wouldn't have been lectured on the inappropriateness of situations like these for as long as she could remember, Belle would have been reluctant to actually reach out for him. Much as she'd like to touch him, all of him, she is quite at a loss.
The few things she was taught in this regard tell her that all this needs to happen in the marriage bed, in the dark. Her physical presence and her quietness - her compliance, her surrender - would be all that would be required of her. If anything, any behavior beyond that would be frowned upon and disapproved of in the very least.
Yet, here they are, on a couch in the main hall of the Dark Castle, the evening scarcely begun. The man she is with is not her husband and she is as far from being a passive, dutiful wife as she could possibly be. It's different than everything she thought possible, condoned by everyone she once knew, but Belle wouldn't want to change the slightest detail about it.
She still doesn't have a clue what she is actually doing, whether she should be doing this at all. But it feels good and Rumplestiltskin is so very close to her, openly expressing his approval of anything she does, and there's no way that she's going to stop.
Between his incoherent words of pleasure and unmistakable urges for more, the decision to relocate one of her hands to his knee is an easy one to make
Her other hand continuing to roam his chest, she forces herself to breathe when she finds his tight leathers warm with the heat of his body. She supposes that she might as well be touching his bare skin, the solid but thin material doing very little of shielding his upper leg from her.
Although she hasn't quite forgotten about the apparent epicenter of his arousal, it's not a deliberate choice to slide her hand upwards, caressing a trembling thigh. It's more his sudden quietness and the seemingly helpless jerks of his body which leave her no option but to venture upwards, finding that the slightest scratch of nails on his inner thigh has him arching off the couch.
His hands must have slid off hers at one point, for she sees him digging his fingers into the couch at his side from the corners of his eyes. She takes it as a sign that he no longer needs to remind himself that this is really happening, that he is fully convinced at last that he isn't dreaming after all.
Being wrapped all around Rumplestiltskin, both of her hands all over him and her face pressed against his neck and hair, Belle is completely carried away by his nearness. This is probably what it was like for him when they were in the kitchen, when he was behind her and touched her just about anywhere, his mouth never wandering from her neck and shoulders.
That moment had ended far too quickly and abruptly for her liking. Recalling how her own eagerness had startled him, she reminds herself to be careful and not to do anything rash, much as his labored breathing and sounds of enjoyment might cause such actions.
Belle brings her focus back to his neck for the time being, her hands drawing subconscious circles on his thigh and stomach, attempting to calm herself a little. She wants to be somewhat aware of what she is doing, of what she is making both of them feel. This is near impossible to achieve with the ever increasing heat within her, demanding more and more of her attention.
Just touching his neck proves once more to be completely addicting and distracting in itself. She finds a spot where his pulse is palpable and where the slightest flicker of her tongue leaves him utterly breathless. Naturally, Belle takes full advantage of her latest discovery, wanting to give him as much pleasure as she can.
She ends up suckling lightly on the small patch of skin, carefully using her teeth as well upon remembering how strongly he reacted to that before. It turns out that the impact hasn't decreased in the slightest. He throws his head back, almost hitting hers as he does so, and hisses something that bears vague similarities to her name.
Her hand on his leg appears to be having a life of its own, slowly but surely wandering to where both of them intuitively need it to be. Belle is however still focused on finding out just how wild she can drive him by touching his neck, oblivious to the quite different reason for the way he is currently all but thrashing against her.
"Stop."
The roughly muttered word only registers when his hand covers her own once again, yanking it away. With considerably more force than before, he's effectively trapping her, preventing her progress when she was mere inches away from...
Belle gasps in realization of what just almost happened. Her shock is caused more by her own unawareness of her advancement than by the fact that she was just seconds from touching him there, but it's obvious that the same doesn't go for him.
By then it's a huge disadvantage that she can't see his face, but moving so that she at least can look him in the eyes seems like a bad idea. Rumplestiltskin sits eerily still, almost as if frozen, her arms still around him. He reminds her of a terrified animal, one which will bolt at the slightest disturbance, never to be seen again.
"What's wrong?" she asks as quietly as she can when the sudden, heavy silence between them lengthens. "Shouldn't I have..."
Tempting as it might be to ask him what she has done wrong, Belle senses that she has done no such thing. It seems completely ridiculous, given how little she knows of all this, but it was obvious to her that he very much enjoyed what they were doing. After all, he literally stated that he needed more, whatever that means exactly.
A harsh chuckle is the least thing she expects in response, but it appears that he is actually laughing, sounding almost pained while doing so.
"There's nothing wrong, dearest."
"Then why did you..."
She frowns in confusion, not understanding his reaction at all.
"It was perfect, Belle. You were... are. Too perfect."
"What do you mean?"
His reply isn't enlightening at all. It has something to do with her almost touching the part of him that was all but bursting out of his leathers, at least she is certain of that, but Belle can't see how that can possibly be a bad thing. Not with him grunting in pleasure at her touches, not with her moaning at the wonderfulness of it all.
"I don't want to terrify you."
Her first reaction is to tell him that there is no way that he can terrify her, not with this at least, but she swallows back that answer when she takes in his bowed head, the way he hides his face behind the curtain of his hair.
His response more an apology than anything else, it becomes clear to her that he is the one who is scared. Despite everything they have shared so far, he is still afraid that she'll reject him, that she doesn't want to experience this with him.
Belle can think of no words which might persuade him that she doesn't care what he looks or sounds like - that she wants him, despite not understanding or being familiar with that urge - so she opts to show him instead.
Removing her hand from where it lies now idle on the relatively safety of his knee, she embraces him again, putting her arms loosely around his shoulders and resting her forehead lightly against his neck.
"Is this all right?" she asks, having some notion by now of what their desire can drive them to. It's accompanied by the determination not to rush blindly into such territory again - at least not so very soon – if only because there is no telling at all what might happen and it seems more likely than not at this point that they end up misunderstanding one another.
"Yes," he replies, already sounding calmer than a minute ago. "Just... just give me a moment, please."
His breathing is still labored, so much quicker and deeper than usual, and so is her own. The silence no longer unbearable, they remain comfortably close to one another, gradually regaining full control over their own bodies.
Rumplestiltskin slumps back against her, all earlier tension having left him, and Belle happily leans against the back of the seat to accommodate him. Sprawled on the couch together, she doesn't dare look down his body again to assess the state of him. Instead, she rests her head against his shoulder and focuses on their breathing, finding it almost synchronized.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asks at length, more vulnerable than she has ever heard him.
Going away from him is the last thing she wants, especially now. She considers her answer carefully however, aware that he isn't just offering to go away from her right now.
Belle has known him long enough to see that he is basically giving her an opportunity to get away, to flee for a while - if not forever. As if it's a bad thing that she just drove him all but wild with desire, in her innocent enthusiasm initiating something that neither of them is quite prepared for.
"No," she firmly says, tightening her hold on him. "All I'd like is for you to warn me a bit sooner and less abruptly the next time that something... happens."
"I shall do that," he replies, his awed and relieved tone indicating that he is very much aware of the implication that she most definitely wants there to be a next time.
"Hold me?" she asks softly, her embrace from behind no longer providing the comfort she longs for the most.
"Of course," he mutters, immediately enveloping her in his arms and pulling her lovingly to his chest, with none of the uneasiness that such a gesture would have characterized just a few days ago.
Belle cuddles against him, finding that they fit perfectly together this way as well. Rumplestiltskin seems relaxed once more, as if he has entirely recovered from whatever it was exactly that she evoked within him. She doesn't allow herself to wonder if she can rekindle that fire - or rather, how quickly - just yet, just like she decides that it's probably best not to linger on his scent now that it differs subtly from before, yet more headier and him.
She could have happily stayed in his gentle embrace for a long time, but just when her eyes begin to flutter closed, she becomes aware of something on his skin which wasn't there before. Moving back slightly, temporarily ignoring his rumble of protest, she spots some sort of mark on his skin at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder.
"What is it?" he asks, the familiar weariness making its way back to his tone already, as if he only expects her to find out something to dislike about him after all.
"There's something on your skin," she says, hoping to convey her sincere curiosity instead of the disapproval he anticipates. "One spot is darker than the rest."
She runs her fingers over it, if only not to giggle at his cross-eyed stare when he attempts to look at his own skin, seemingly having forgotten about the magic that doubtlessly enables him to see that spot in a much easier manner.
"It's like a mark," she muses out loud, wondering how it could have gotten there.
Her fingers are joined by his, the accidental contact causing a pleasant tingle. Belle withdraws her hand to enable him better access, hoping that he can give a reassuring explanation.
"This is the spot where you... kissed me, isn't it?"
"I suppose it is, yes," she says, realization dawning. Color rises to her cheeks, knowing that she did a whole lot more than kissing. Already the memory is quite vague, the sheer excitement of it all drowning out the various details. She is certain however that she used her tongue and even her teeth as well, all of which apparently resulted in... this. "Do you think that I... did that?"
"I'm quite sure, dearest," Rumplestiltskin replies, his uncertainty disappearing as quickly as it arose, being replaced by the thoroughly pleased tone that is one of the many things of him which she loves so dearly. "I shall wear it with pride. You're very welcome to make another one in case you want to be sure."
"I'd love to," she says, lowering her gaze intuitively but aware that her cheeks don't flush all that much this time. Maybe she's slightly getting used to talking about these things after all.
Whereas she greatly appreciates all the touches they shared so far, caressing him with her lips, teeth and tongue combined was particularly pleasant, something which she would indeed gladly repeat in the near future.
"Better not now, though," he says, sounding both determined and regretful.
"Small steps," she mutters, understanding what he is telling her, what he has been saying both with and without words from the moment she came back.
"Precisely," he agrees, gently bringing her face to his silk-clad chest and lovingly stroking her by now very messy curls.
She happily snuggles against him, his words reminding her that a way to happiness can be found no matter how unlikely and impossible their love may seem, as long as they are careful and honest with one another.
Utterly content and comfortable in Rumplestiltskin's arms, she stares into the fire, letting the flames in the hearth add to the most pleasant glow inside of her.