Part 23
She must have been quietly considering her sudden urge to touch him for longer than she thought, for he looks at her with a puzzled, ever so slightly worried expression.
"Belle?"
She gives him a reassuring smile, realizing only then that she must have been staring at him. She can't decide whether it's a good thing or not that he clearly isn't aware of what she was thinking.
Recalling his hesitant declaration of her beauty and his reluctance to accept her genuine compliments in return, she feels that this is another part of their relationship that she can begin to improve right now.
If he doesn't believe that she appreciates the way he looks as much as he loves the way she does, she'll simply have to make him see.
"I was just thinking about something," she says, looking straight at him to maximize the intended effect.
"What were you thinking about, sweetheart?" he asks quietly, not nearly as worried as she supposed he would have been earlier this evening.
If she wouldn't have been convinced before of the rightness of her plan, she certainly would be now. Her statement would have caused him concern or outright fear before, simply because he expected anything between them to turn out for worse almost by default. But now, there is little more than curiosity in his voice.
It's an incredible discovery indeed to find that progress is definitely possible - for both of them.
She makes certain to speak purposefully, wanting to make as clear to him as she can that she considers him as attractive as he does her. She herself finds it difficult to believe that anyone would find her beautiful, especially such a wonderful man.
But he has completely convinced her, and she is determined to do the same for him, to not be deterred by the insecurities which appear to have characterized their relationship so far.
"You are quite good-looking yourself, Rumple."
Harsh laughter escapes him at her bold declaration, but he closes his mouth before words of the same nature can leave it.
He just stares at her for a long while, almost frowning.
"You... you don't have to say that, sweetheart. You don't have to make me feel better about myself. I already feel better than I thought I could."
So much for her optimism. She is however not discouraged in the slightest. She supposes that it wouldn't be truly like him if he were to simply accept her praise, after all.
"I do want to make you feel better, that's true. But I'm not saying it for that reason. You see, I simply think you a very handsome man."
He shakes his head in confusion this time, as if he either thinks that he completely misunderstands her or that she has lost her mind in the span of a few rapid heartbeats.
By now, she knows quite well how to deal with that. Telling him might not have the intended result, but showing him instead...
"Don't... you don't have to... Belle, I know that you aren't lying, not on purpose, but you can't possibly mean this. I'm old and... damaged, inside and out."
Despite everything she has learned of him this evening, she is still shocked by the way he simply appears to be incapable of even considering the notion that she enjoys either his personality or his looks, let alone both of them.
It makes her only more determined to go through with this, to get through to him.
"Nobody is perfect, I suppose," she says, thinking of the few people she remembers.
The ones she met when she was on the road in the forest were not all that much better than those who held her captive in the basement of the hospital. All of those people took her places she didn't want to go, kept her there, refusing to truly talk to her, to help her.
Everyone, except for him.
"But you... you've done so much for me already," she continues. "I don't care what you look like."
He finally nods a little, relieved. Much as it pleases her that he can at least accept this at face value, it's not quite yet what she intends to achieve. Especially not because he only somewhat agrees now that she seemingly dismisses the relevancy of his appearance altogether.
"I don't care," she repeats, more firmly. "But that doesn't mean that I can't still really, really like the way you look. Because I do, Rumple. I do."
Reaching for him has become familiar, her hands finding his way back to his hair almost on their own accord.
She watches with joy and bemusement alike how he shuts his eyes, letting out deep sighs and similarly lovely sounds. At least he accepts her touch, openly and eagerly. In that sense, they have come a long way already.
"I do," she breathes again, determined to say it until he believes it, just like he now no longer fears enjoying her caresses.
Since he isn't verbally rejecting her compliments any longer, it seems that he might be nearing that point after all.
"Maybe it's something that we aren't meant to understand. Maybe it's something that's just the way it is. Something that shouldn't be questioned."
He doesn't object to that either and her fingers make their way to the back of his neck in approval. Scratching him ever so lightly with her nails, hearing him groan in response, causes a no longer entirely unfamiliar flutter deep within her.
It makes it difficult to continue speaking, to think, but that doesn't appear to be a problem either. She finds unexpected eloquence in the knowledge that he is just as mesmerized, as dumbfounded, as she is herself.
"Feel this, Rumple," she mutters, closing her own eyes to focus as much as she can on the sensations of touching him like this, of experiencing how they react to one another.
She slides one of her hands down his neck. She has touched him like this before, but the beat of his heart is significantly quicker than it was earlier when she places her hand above it.
"I think you're handsome," she says again, the declaration only met by a quiet grunt this time, one of a kind she is fairly certain has nothing to do with objection. "And I'm not saying that to make you feel better, although it would make me very glad if it would."
He reaches for her as well, stepping yet closer to her as he settles both his hands on her waist. His touch is more decisive than before and whereas his earlier caresses have comforted and reassured her, there is something so much more in the way he now moves his fingers and palms over her.
"If anything, it makes me feel better. Because you are beautiful, and you are mine."
There is the sound of labored breath, but she wouldn't be able to tell whether it's caused by him or by herself, or perhaps by both of them.
"I'm yours, Rumple. Will you be mine?"
He nods sharply, tightening his hold on her ever so slightly. She shifts until the front of her gown brushes the outer one of all the layers he is still wearing. He adjusts his embrace as she does so, immediately accommodating her increased nearness.
"I'm yours," he rasps, hoarse and more certain than ever before. "I've always been yours, and I always will be."
His hands go around her sides, settling on the small of her back, his fingers splayed wide over the material of her nightgown. There's something particularly wonderful about the way he pulls her against him, protective yet almost... possessive, something so very enchanting about the way the warmth of his palms seeps through her clothing.
There is only a few inches of space left between their faces. Although it's hardly the first time either that this has happened throughout the course of the evening, there's definitely something new in this as well.
"That's settled then," she breathes, feeling that no more words are needed now that they are together like this, the promise in their eyes so much more clear than any words could ever be.
Taking one hand from her back, he cradles her cheek, brushing his thumb along her jaw in a feather-light touch. He licks his lip and whether it was the intended effect or not - probably not, judging by everything she has learned of him tonight - her gaze is drawn towards the gesture... to the lips that have soothed her with words.
She wants him to use his mouth again, but this time not for talking... and not necessarily to soothe her.
This time, she isn't disgusted in the slightest when she thinks back on the sort-of kiss that he bestowed upon her a few nights ago. This time, there is none of the slight reluctance and mild curiosity when she considered kissing him before. This time, she doesn't think of the effect that a mere brush of lips might have on her memory, on regaining the life that once was hers.
This time, she wants to kiss him.
Her eyes are focused on his lips, and so is the rest of her body. There is no hesitance when she leans in to him, decreasing the distance between them yet more. They are breathing the same, hot air between them, but it couldn't be any less stifling.
Their noses are bumping awkwardly against one another, but she finds nothing but joy in their shared clumsiness. She supposes that she'll always love this, their still uncertain but so very real togetherness, but she especially does so now that her eyes flutter closed and her heartbeat is becoming almost erratic, now that their mouths are so close to one another and it'll be only a matter of seconds before their lips will meet.
"Belle, what..."
She hushes him, almost swallowing his questioning words, taking his surprise and turning it into hopeful wonder.
She's aware of the smallest of sensations, in a way she wasn't even when her world was limited to her cell in the basement. She doesn't miss a single detail of the sounds he's making, from his rough breathing to the noise he makes when it dawns on him what she's going to do, something between a gasp and a groan.
She reacts in kind, a longing moan escaping her. Despite being wholly focused on him, the irony doesn't escape her attention of feeling like this about the man who terrified her just a few days ago by doing exactly this. It makes her only more determined to make an end to the rift that was forced between them after her memories were taken, to re-claim as much as she can of what was stolen from her... to make this right.
Her closed eyes prevent her from looking at him, from seeing all the emotions play out on his face, almost as if it were a book. But much as she'd like to watch him, there's something stronger than herself that keeps her eyes firmly shut.
Besides, she feels as if she doesn't have to actually see him in order to know how he reacts to her.
The scent of him is yet more enjoyable now that she can't see him. It appears to be all around her, seemingly stronger than before, but this too has become exciting rather than calming. The tickle of his hair against her face makes her only more eager to move towards him.
All of it makes her feel warmer than she has ever been before, but she's shivering in a way she never wants to stop doing.
When there remains only a hairbreadth between them, when she is only the briefest moment away from reaching his lips with her own, convinced that she's going to experience what it'll be like to actually, properly kiss him... there's a sudden barrier between them.