Their days blurred together in a routine, but Rumpelstiltskin could not remember being happier. It was almost spring and he wished the time would just stop, hold still and let him savour those exquisite moments with his Belle. He didn't exactly remember when he started to call the girl his, but he liked it so he pretended she belonged to him; that those smiles and playful looks from beneath the lashes were for his eyes only. Not because there wasn't anybody else to smile at, but because she intended them for him.
She became bolder now that they spent more time together. He no longer had to remind her to come down for a meal – more often than not it was Belle who nearly dragged him out of the laboratory for dinner, insisting he was too thin and he could work himself into starvation if he kept skipping meals. He did not get much work done though – not when she was so close. He'd just pretend to be reading a book or he'd choose to brew some simple potion that wasn't too demanding, which allowed him to look at his girl. By now he had every small feature memorized perfectly. If he didn't know better, he'd mistake her for a siren or an ancient goddess. She was a plain mortal though but he was still eager to worship her.
Spring meant that there was more light outside. Normally Rumpelstiltskin would shut it out, drape the tall windows with curtains and let the castle drowse in shadows. He was a creature of darkness, after all, and the sunshine had no business peeking from inside. Yet Belle seemed to love it. She'd often watch the bright sky, smiling, or point out how pretty the fresh grass looked amidst the thawing snow. She insisted the windows in the lab had to be open, even if for a little while, to let the fresh air in. He gave up scowling at those remarks and acting as though the girl's high spirits did not please him. If she wanted sunshine, that's what she'd get. He could get used to brightness and the smell of swelling tree-buds.
He liked watching her work in the lab, but in truth he looked forward to the evenings. She came to the parlour every night to join him. Rumpelstiltskin would spin while Belle read. Sometimes she'd just watch him at his work quietly, or talk about her childhood, or share her ideas on magic and things she'd like to learn. Other evenings she would read to him, and he'd silence the creak of the spinning wheel in order for her not to strain her voice. When she grew more comfortable with his presence, she'd ask him questions and though he held back at first, he soon found himself speaking freely. He was more sincere than he'd been in years, and once Rumpelstiltskin got carried away enough to mention his son. He snapped his mouth shut immediately, his eyes widening with the horror of realizing what he had confessed. Never had he let anyone see that side of him or get that deep into his secrets. But Belle didn't press the matter, her own eyes understanding and full of pain for his loss. She patted his knee and somehow it was the greatest comfort he'd ever received.
Belle touched him frequently now. She no longer recoiled or cringed when their fingers brushed accidentally. She'd go as far as leaning against him slightly when he sat in the armchair and she'd take her favourite spot in front of the fireplace. She was more used to his dry humour but would swat him if he made a particularly nasty remark about someone, even if he could see her eyes sparkling with laughter. Her laugher was a thing of wonder by itself – there were so many dimensions to it, from light chuckles to deep throaty sound that could go on for a long time, leaving the girl breathless.
She bid him good night each time like she meant what she said, as if it mattered to her whether he slept well or not. Belle looked him directly in the eyes then, sometimes lingering around for longer as if she expected him to say something else back or to act. Rumpelstiltskin could not quite decipher what it was. He'd wish her sweet dreams back and she'd sigh, leaving the room.
Then Belle made a habit of kissing him on the cheek before retiring to her room. He froze the first time it happened, her lips feather-light on his skin. The girl blushed prettily but did not seem to regret what she did. Rumpelstiltskin wanked himself raw that night. He felt like her lips left a burning mark on him and he'd touch that place with his fingertips as the other hand pulled and squeezed his rigid cock. He was desperate; the urge to cum even after his third orgasm had been as strong and sharp as when he just started. His erection did not subside when he covered his fingers with his seed for the fourth time. It was as if he turned into a randy adolescent. He had to remind himself it was wrong and shameful; that such things as dignity and self-control still existed, but they were just abstract ridiculous notions compared to the fire in his loins something as little as a kiss upon his cheek started.
He kept his face calm and neutral the following night, praying there was no way Belle could ever find out about what happened in his bedroom. He chose to sit away from the fireplace and away from her, but she read to him as if she didn't notice his reluctance to approach her. When her voice grew sleepy and tired, she got up and pressed another kiss to his cheek, more firm and confident, before walking out. The temptation to turn his head and capture her lips with his was strong, but Rumpelstiltskin resisted. The kiss did not have to mean anything, really. It could just be a friendly gesture or an expression of gratitude she felt. Perhaps that's what she did back home to her father before going to bed. The idea that Belle associated him with her parent made him wince. He was ages older than her but his feelings had been far from chaste and paternal. He'd much sooner have the girl find him disgusting.
It was another sunny day and Belle sat at the table in his laboratory, making faces at the water glass. Rumpelstiltskin caught himself admiring the way the sun's rays reflected off her hair, making the curls auburn and shiny. She wore it loose today, even though her hair grew much longer. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to feel the soft texture with his fingers, to caress the strands and push them off her face. He longed to do even more than that, but instead he turned away and began arranging the jars on the shelf. When he frowned holding a bottle with particularly nasty contents and trying to figure out what those were, Belle called out his name, her voice trembling with excitement.
He turned to find her looking over the glass of water wide-eyed. Over the top rim, hanging in the air were tiny spheres of water. It lasted a couple of seconds only and then they fell back into the glass with a faint bloop, but Belle's face shone with such pride at that small achievement that Rumpelstiltskin could not help it; his own lips curled into a smile while the girl beamed at him.
"Did you see it? Did you see it?!" she exclaimed happily.
"You did it, dearie," he replied softly. "Congratulations." In truth, he felt quite proud too. It wasn't spectacular and there was still a long way to go but that was a good start.
Her joyous laugher still rang in his ears when Belle threw her arms around his neck, apparently unable to contain her mirth, trying to reminding herself it was real by touching his solid body. She finally accomplished it.
Her merriness was contagious and Rumpelstiltskin picked her up on a whim, spinning her around, the skirts of her dress rustling and swirling around them.
"I truly did it," she whispered, breathless when he put her down on the floor and ducked her head down for a kiss.
It was slow and clumsy at first, Belle trying to recall how to kiss him. He knew what she was doing was dictated by the heat of the moment, her pure success making her share her happiness in any way possible. He let himself enjoy it for a little while before carefully pushing her away.
"Belle, you don't want do it," he said gently, as if he was reasoning with a silly child, at the same time capturing her wrists and unhooking her arms from his neck. He knew it was the right thing and he gritted his teeth, trying to keep his body away instead of leaning into her touch.
She looked up at him, her smile gone. Her eyes were clear and held no regret, only determination.
"Be quiet, Rumpelstiltskin," she said sternly. "No one decides for me, not even you."
This time she had to stand on her toes to kiss him, pressing herself against him. The kiss was more demanding, her daring tongue invading his mouth and seeking out every sensitive place to make him sigh. He may be the Dark One but he was a man as well, he could never fight her, not when she was offering her lips to him so generously. His hand went into her hair and he moaned, feeling the softness of it. That's where she belonged, in his arms, sighing and wriggling against him in pleasure; that's what he'd been dreaming about for so painfully long.
The bliss was interrupted by a pull of magic against his back. Somebody crossed the line of his grounds. Rumpelstiltskin pulled away. Whoever it was, he'd get rid of the fool and come back to Belle, while she wanted him, while he believed it wasn't some accident.
"Stay here," he whispered, pulling away. She looked up at him, not quite registering the words. Her lips were moist and parted, a darker shade of pink than usual. He moaned and stole another quick kiss from her.
"There's someone approaching the castle. I'll see to it."
He walked away and as soon as Belle and the sunshine from the tower were behind him, his mood darkened. The intruder had better have an important business to interrupt them.