More Pink

Chapter 17

Belle and Rumple have survived more than a month of separation and, although Rumple will have to return to New York, they have rejoined just in time for Thanksgiving. Belle has picked him up at the airport and on the drive back to the apartment, she begins to share an ever-growing guest list for what had initially been planned as a quiet family Thanksgiving celebration.

"There's more isn't there?" Rumple had pressed her.

Belle took a deep breath before she began. "Yes, there's more. Mary Margaret and David were going to go to his mother's, but she's not doing well and really isn't up for hosting. So Mary Margaret was thinking of having her over to their place and then she heard about me having so many others and we talked about it and I thought, what the heck, and . . . well . . . now they're coming too."

"All right." He had no particular problems with Belle's quiet friend, Mary Margaret. He didn't know the new husband or the man's mother, but what the hell? "So, what's the body count now?"

"Well, it was ten at that point," she answered.

"It was ten? It's not still ten?" he asked.

"I was complaining to Ruby about having to fit ten people, some of whom don't like each other, into the apartment and then having to serve them food. She suggested we bring them all to the restaurant and get a party room. The restaurant is already open for the holiday, it being a big event, pulling in a ton of money. Ruby could arrange the room for a minimal fee, and, she said, if she and Granny could join our party, then for no fee. Granny would even provide the turkey, dressing and gravy, if I would arrange for all the sides and the drinks."

"So, it's twelve people now?" Rumple asked. They were almost back to his apartment.

"Well, Ruby is bringing her current boyfriend, Archie, and because he doesn't have any family in the area, her previous boyfriend, James Whale."

"How democrat of her. So, fourteen?"

"Oh, I forgot Regina asked if she could come . . . ." There was a long pause and Belle added in a rush, "and bring her sister."

"Oh crap, Belle! Zelena can't come. I don't want to see Zelena again," he protested.

"But Regina pleaded with me. She didn't want to spend Thanksgiving with her mother and sister, so she told them that we had asked her over. And Zelena . . . well, you know how she can be – she insisted that she should come too."

"Shit," Rumple whispered under his breath. "Did Cora invite herself too?"

"No, apparently, she hates your fish-eating guts and forbade both of her daughters to come, so . . ." Belle sighed, "now both sisters feel they have to come to show their solidarity in their defiance of their mother. Regina did tell me that she tried to make Zelena understand how unwelcome she would be, but, you know, Zelena's kinda dense in that department."

"No, she's not," Rumple told her.

Belle considered and had to agree. "Maybe not. But I know you care about Regina and if she comes, it looks like she has to come with Zelena. Oh yeah, both of them are bringing their new boyfriends."

"Regina has a boyfriend?" This was news.

"Yes. She's really excited about him. He's a widower with a small child, an adorable little boy."

"And Zelena's bringing some one too?"

"She'll be coming with her new boyfriend. I'm guessing she wants to show you that she's totally gotten over you."

"Gee, I'm crushed." He counted. "We're up to what? Nineteen? Is that the final count?"

Belle sighed. "I got a phone call while you were on the plane."

"I'm holding my breath," he told her.

"She wasn't expecting to be in town and had made other plans."

"Who wasn't expecting to be in town?" he asked.

"Uhm," Belle was really having a tough time with this next piece of news.

"Who wasn't expecting to be in town?" he pressured her.

"Milah," Belle shared this quietly. When Rumple didn't say anything, she began to add, "Things fell through and she found out there are still some things she has to get closed out here."

"You invited my ex-wife?" he was appalled.

"Well, she's another one who kinda invited herself. You know some pushy women, Rumple," Belle turned on him.

"Yeah, this is all my fault. I do know a lot of pushy women, but it seems I also know at least one woman who has the backbone of a jellyfish."

"Should I have said absolutely not?"

"That would have worked for me," Rumple groused.

"Well," Belle said in small voice. "She really did sound pitiful."

"I'm sure she did," Rumple relented. "But, I guess with this crowd she won't be too burdensome. Maybe we can put her at the same table as Zelena."

There was a pause and Belle burst out, "Milah's bringing her boyfriend."

Rumple gave up. "Of course, she is. You know this is the same man who was responsible for the end of my marriage. Who, against my better judgement, I've been working with for the past nearly six weeks, who I was looking forward to being apart from, even if it were for a little while. Now, I'm going to have to spend a holiday, that I had hoped I would be able to spend with my girlfriend, my lovely, delicious overly-generous, too-nice-for-her-own-good girlfriend, with the ponce."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know what to say. Milah was hysterical when she called."

"Milah is always hysterical. Especially when she wants something. Everything is a crisis with that woman," he explained to Belle. "She's like my mother, Belle. She can turn it on and off as it suits her."

"Oh, I almost forgot, Leroy and Astrid are coming too," she mentioned the former building maintenance man and his new wife. Belle had always gotten along with the grumpy maintenance man and she adored his flippery little wife, who was now pregnant. She'd gotten closer to him when he'd stepped in to take over her father's florist's shop.

He took several deep calming breaths. "So, I'm celebrating Thanksgiving with my girlfriend, her father, my son and his girlfriend, my best friend, my disgusting father, my agent, her boyfriend and his son, my agent's crazy-ass sister – who is my ex-girlfriend - and her current boyfriend, two of my girlfriend's best friends, with one of their grandmothers, that girlfriend's boyfriend and her ex-boyfriend, the other girlfriend's husband and her husband's mother, my ex-wife and her boyfriend and my maintenance man and his wife. Delightful, just delightful. The only thing that could possibly make this more uncomfortable would be if my mother was coming."

Belle didn't say anything. They had arrived back at the parking garage and she pulled the car into a space and got out.

Rumple was watching her. She hadn't said anything when he had thrown his mother into the mix. She was rushing about, not making eye contact with him, opening the trunk and getting out his bags. She closed the truck not looking at him.

"Belle," he caught her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Belle, tell me, please, assure me, that my mother is not coming."

Belle looked up at him and he could see there were tears threatening to spill over. "She called and, well, she's kept up her end with my dad. He's really in a great place and they're taking good care of him and when she started talking about being all alone . . ."

"You caved," he accused her. "She slithered right into your good graces and you caved. You invited her, didn't you?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry. I knew you'd be mad."

"Mad! Mad doesn't begin to cover how I feel."

"You're mad at me. I'll call and tell her she can't come," Belle said.

"No, no. That won't work."

Belle sniffed and turned to walk back to the apartment. He caught her and turned her around. "I'm not mad at you. Please, please understand this." He closed his eyes a moment and took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. He began slowly and softly, "Of course, you said 'yes' to all those people. It's who you are. You're kind and generous and understanding. You wouldn't be you if you didn't say 'yes' to them." He closed his eyes again for a moment before continuing. "I'm mad at them because they took advantage of your good nature. And," he paused another moment, "I'm mad at myself because I'm a selfish bastard who was really just looking forward to having you most of the weekend to myself."

"Oh, Rumple," she flung her arms around his neck. "It'll just be for one day and they'll all go home."

"Yes, then I can have you all to myself." He sighed. "What are we doing about food for this crowd? I know you said Granny was doing the turkey but what about the rest of the food?"

"I've asked everyone to bring their favorite side. I didn't make any assignments so it will all be potluck. Should be fun." She gave him one of her brilliant smiles and picked up one of his smaller bags. She began to walk up the stairs to the apartment.

He watched her walk away from him and shook his head. Fun!? Yeah, this sounded like fun. Potluck indeed. This had all the makings of a major disaster.

He picked up the heavier case and walked behind his little maid, caretaker, model, love of his life. He reminded himself that they had a couple of hours before nightfall and the Day of Life in Hell would begin.

They had gotten to his apartment door. It had been almost six weeks and during that time he had been easily and absolutely faithful to this woman, except for the occasional foray (which he didn't count) into self-abuse when she had been a featured player in his mind.

He leaned into her, speaking into her ear. "I've been thinking, as much as I enjoyed phone sex with you, actually being with you, is sooo much better. I've been contemplating all the different ways I want to enjoy you. Shall we start in the bedroom?" he asked.

She blushed and nodded. "I got on birth control while you in New York, so we don't have use the . . . thingys."

"I guess the money I spent on a carton of them was wasted then . . . although," he said thoughtfully, "there is a thing we could do when it would probably be a good idea for me to wear a . . . thingy."

Belle's mind worked it out . . . "Euue . . . well . . . I guess. That's never been good for me, though," she told him.

"Later, we'll talk about being adventuresome, later," he promised her.

They had made it through the door of the apartment, closing it behind themselves. He pushed his luggage to one side and pulled Belle against him, putting her between himself and the wall. With his hands around her waist he lowered his mouth to hers and was duly rewarded with her eagerly returning his kiss. He nudged her mouth open, tasting her for the first time in too many months and she was even sweeter than he'd remembered. He could hear the tinkling harpsichord music, rising, lifting him up as he kissed her – and her sweet vanilla and roses scent – and the colors, pink and white and silver all beginning to fade into lavender as she made small sounds against his mouth. He began to lift up her skirts, bunching them up and around her waist. She slipped her hands inside his jacket and began to pull it down from his shoulders. He stopped a moment to shrug it off and let it hit the floor.

"God, I've missed you," he muttered, one of his hands sliding up her smooth bare thigh finding out quickly that what he had thought were stockings were socks. This gave him direct access to her little panties and he let his hand rest on her hip for a moment while he gave full attention to pressing kisses along her neck, delighting in feeling her shiver as her own arousal grew. Slowly he allowed his fingers to hook the waistband of her undies and tug them down from her waist. Belle was panting and her pupils had dilated. He planted one more quick kiss on her lips and then focused more on his ultimate goal, bending over, dropping himself to kiss her chest, then her stomach. He was on his knees in front of her, his damaged knee screaming, but he ignored it. He went under her voluminous skirts, drinking in her sweet fragrance.

Now exactly where he wanted to be, he was able to pull her panties down her legs, reveling in the wetness he'd found. She stepped out of them and he promptly put one of her legs over his shoulder. With her skirts now falling over his head he was in a sensuous world of shadows and lights, scents and tinkling musical melodies, lost in his own unique world of sensory collisions. He began slowly, kissing her silky, soft thighs. He could feel one of her hands on his shoulder and the other was on his head. She was holding onto him for balance. He softly breathed on her most delicate skin and he heard her moan. Using his tongue, he began to flick back and forth along her cleft, quickly feeling her own little nub harden.

Belle had not expected this, this abrupt love-making, her own quick response, but it had been so long, too long without each other and she couldn't bring herself to tell him to slow down or wait or stop until they got to the bedroom. He was working magic with his tongue, his fingers, always so gentle but so persistent. He'd always seemed to understand her body, better than she did herself. He would bring her right to brink and then would back away, once to insert two fingers into her sopping channel, hooking them just, just right. She heard herself begin to beg him not to stop, please don't stop. And, finally, finally, he didn't, placing his mouth right over her sensitized clit and teasing it over and over and over with his tongue. She screamed into her first orgasm, nearly collapsing onto him, her muscles softening and sagging.

Rumple began to slowly pull himself upright, still placing kisses along her body as he stood straighter and straighter next to her, pulling her up with him as he rose. He reached down to unzip his pants, not bothering to release his belt but rather to just pull out his swollen cock, so hard it was nearly flat to his stomach. He moved his hands to her bottom to lift her up and then dropped her slowly onto himself, pressing her back to the door.

It was exactly what she needed and, feeling herself so penetrated, so thoroughly impaled, was enough to send her over the edge again. He supported her as she clung to him, nearly mindless with the pleasure waves that still thrumbed through her. Then he began his own thrusts, always answered by little whimpers as her soft body absorbed his strong, male energies, her back pressed hard against the sturdy door. He was too far along to last very long and Belle's enthusiastic response to his love-making, coupled with the reception her very wet and very tight body had given him, pushed him over the edge in minutes. He felt himself lose it and he released himself in several long, very satisfying sprays. Belle looked at him at that moment and smiled and he knew she had felt him deep inside her own body. He kissed her again, this time slow and gently.

The two hung on to each other for a few moments, both of them panting and sweating.

"I thought we were going to the bedroom," Belle managed to get out.

"We will," he agreed. "I just couldn't wait. I've missed you so much. And you looked so damn good and smelled so good and . . . I couldn't wait."

She ducked her head, "I'm glad. That was . . . different."

"What say we plan on a little something in every room of the apartment this weekend?" he asked, guiding her back to the bedroom, his bedroom.

"Every room?" she asked.

"Well, maybe twice in my bathroom. That soaker tub with the side jets has a lot of possibilities."

Belle laughed. "I guess we have a lot of time to make up for," she agreed.

They ordered in, Belle wrapping a thick robe around herself to get the door, leaving Rumple still in the bathtub. She brought back some pizza and beer and joined him again in the tub.

"Tell me, is New York as bad as you thought it was going to be?"

He had pulled her up against himself, so that she was sitting, her back to his front, between his legs. The position gave him wonderful access to her most sensitive areas. She leaned back into him while they both ate a couple of slices of pizza and savored their beer.

"Actually, no," he told her. "What's different is that I have you, talking to you nearly every night. It keeps the noise down."

"Really? I'm helping?"

"Yes. You . . ." he struggled to explain. "You make things . . . more pink, more soft. I would call you every time I would start to get overwhelmed and you would make me feel all calm again." He began kissing along her neck. "And how has your college prep stuff been going."

"Looking good," she shivered. "I'm completely set up, ready to go. They let me start on the internship and I've already knocked out most of my hours. And, I've got things paid for and I should be able to get through with one course during their short mid-winter semester and three this next spring semester and my last two in the first summer session. When will you be back for good?"

He was up to her ear, lightly tracing it with his tongue. "I don't know. It is coming along. Killian asked for two songs and I was able to give him seven."

She turned to look at him. "How on earth did you have seven songs in you?"

"Some were songs that I had written since you started working for me," he confessed. "Well," he corrected, "they all were songs that I had written since you started working for me."

"I had no idea," she, as always, was amazed at the depth of the man's talent.

"Hey, I watched a rehearsal of the play and the songs I had on hand seemed to fit really well and Killian thought so, too. The cast seemed to like them."

"Is this play any good?" Belle asked him.

Rumple considered before answering. "It's hard to know. Ultimately the public makes that decision, but . . . I think . . . yes, it is. I don't like Killian. I never will, but he does have some real talent as a playwright and a director." He kissed Belle's nose. "Don't you dare ever tell him or Milah that I said that."

"Of course not," and she leaned in to kiss him on the mouth.

"Turn around," he ordered.

Belle giggled and did as he requested, ending up sitting on his lap with her knees on either side of his hips. He gently lifted her and slid into her. When she attempted to rock back and forth, he held her still.

"Let's just enjoy this closeness," he told her.

"But . . . but . . ." Belle was feeling delightfully stretched and full and wanting more. "I want to move."

"When I say," he told her, focusing on kissing her, her mouth opening to his and his hand buried in her hair to hold her still.

Belle could never quite get enough of his kisses, deep and penetrating, very nearly as arousing as actual sex with the man. He would murmur against her mouth, letting her know how sweet she tasted, how beautiful she sounded.

"I like it when you make all those little sounds," he said.

"Thank you, but I want to move," she protested. This sitting quietly, all the while feeling full and stretched, but with no further stimulation, was nearly unbearable.

Belle held on to him, to his shoulders, her fingers nearly clawing at him. Her head went back and she might have gone into the water except for his support. She recognized this was Tantric Sex, close, slow contact. She felt him lifting her head so that she was now looking directly into his eyes, steadily, continuously gazing.

He began slowly, making a series of short thrusts followed by a single deep push, impaling her completely. He continued with short thrusts followed by deep pushes, the short movements decreasing in number while the deep pushes increased.

When it began, it was barely noticeable, a faint flicker, coiling, tightening, clenching and then slowly, slowly uncoiling, beginning as a small wave, but building into bigger and bigger, stronger and stronger waves and she heard them both, crying out, nearly screaming with the long, long powerful release that swept them both away.

She dropped her head on his shoulder, tears flowing freely.

"Intense," was all he said.

"Very," she agreed. Then she looked at him, bleary-eyed and relaxed. "I still love you," she told him.

He pulled her in for a gentle kiss. "That's good to hear, because I still love you, too."

Thanks to: Guest (Chapter 12 – flavour/menu card) – thx – these stories are set in Asheville, NC, which is a serious foodie town, so food will figure in my stories. Plus, I'm permanently on a steroid due to an immune disorder, so I'm always hungry and writing about food helps me sublimate my cravings.

Also thanks to those who never fail to send me an encouraging word: Wondermorena, arynwy, Erik'sTrueAngel, Grace5231973 and jewel415.

NEXT: The Thanksgiving Day dinner begins (alcohol is involved).