Stirring awake in the warm circle of his arms feels so good that Belle doesn't want to open her eyes.
"I know you're not asleep," Rumpelstiltskin chuckles softy and she rolls onto her side to face him. The man sighs, grateful for the opportunity to snatch his arm back and flexes his fingers. She watches him wince at the sensation of his fingers being prickled with myriad tiny needles when the blood rushes back into his digits.
"How do you know I'm not?"
"You are talking to me," he points out reasonably, "that gave you away."
She giggles and stretches with a sigh. She hasn't had the chance to wake up next to him until now – he would usually be up and about – and she is grateful for the change. Rumpelstiltskin's smile is shy and he is a bit tense - as if by staying he has crossed some boundaries and she hates to see him so uncertain. Perhaps the only reason he remains in bed was that she has mistaken his arm for a suitable replacement for a pillow. She reaches up to brush his unruly hair from his face and leans over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
"Good morning," she manages to say before he turns his head and captures her lips for a deeper kiss, groaning contently when her tongue slides into his mouth. His hand strokes along her side, resting on the curve of her hip but Belle gently pushes him away.
"I do need a bath if you wish to continue," she explains to his frowning face and he looks relieved when he grasps the nature of her rejection.
"Your wish is my command." Rumpelstiltskin snaps his fingers and a rather impressive steaming copper bath materializes next to the window.
"Really? In the bedroom?" She raises her eyebrows at the unnecessary display of magic but the man shrugs it off.
"I spared you the trouble of dressing up and going downstairs," he says smugly.
Fair enough. Belle throws her legs over the edge of the bed, trying to remember where she discarded her pins the day before. She can feel his eyes on her back as she twists and pins her hair up and walks to the tub, keeping her back straight and fighting the ridiculous urge to cover her behind. He has seen her every way possible by now, so it hardly matters.
The water is a bit hotter than the girl is used to and she closes her eyes with pleasure, leaning back against the polished metal. She can hear Rumpelstiltskin fumble in bed followed by his quick approaching steps.
"Keep your eyes closed," he warns and then she feels the water move around her as he places his leg in the tub with a splash. Belle grips the edges of the tub with her hands and draws her legs to her chest to allow him some room, but keeps her eyes obediently shut. "Alright, you can look now."
"Was it your plan from the very beginning?" Belle asks as he straightens her legs and puts her feet against his stomach.
"Perhaps," he replies cagily, stroking the protruding bones in her ankles with his thumbs. "What fun is it when I can watch but not touch?"
The feel of his hands on her skin under the water is different; more slippery and somewhat muffled by it. Where she would expect to feel the heat of his touch, now there is the added caress of swaying water.
He cradles her left foot in both hands, raising it over the water and summoning the soap out of nowhere (which is most likely true) to lather his hands. He slides his knuckles up the arch of her foot, applying just enough pressure for it not to tickle but still making her toes curl down instinctively. Belle bites her lip to keep herself from smiling at his concentrated look as he gradually works his way up to her ankle and rubs the front of her foot. She's probably cleaner than she's ever been but Belle finds she quite enjoys the feel of his clever fingers gliding on her skin, pressing, stroking and rubbing her in the most delicious way. Rumpelstiltskin repeats the process on the other foot just as thoroughly, sliding his fingers between her toes and making her giggle. The combined soothing caress of the water and his hands successfully work her towards a blissful state of contentment with not a single coherent thought, until discovering they have quite the opposite effect on him.
As Rumpelstiltskin rinses her right leg, she shifts a little in the tub, bumping the outer ridge of her left foot against something stiff and the girl blushes a violent scarlet at the realization of what exactly she has just touched. Before she can mutter an awkward apology, his hand wraps around her ankle, capturing his hardness between her sole and his stomach. She gasps as the man lowers his head and flicks his tongue against her big toe, causing her to jerk and him to groan at the accidental stroke against his shaft.
"W-what did you do that for?" Belle stutters, watching in shock as his rough pink tongue slithers between her toes. It's ticklish but at the same time guiltily enjoyable.
"Making sure you're properly clean," he sneers, covering her skin in small licks and nibbles.
His soft lips are torturously slow and by the time he bracelets her ankle with kisses, Belle is squirming impatiently. She's too cautious about hurting him and instead of pressing her foot against his cock, rubs it over the shaft lightly, grinning as it throbs under her ministrations.
"Come here." His voice is thick with desire and he quickly pulls her forward and around, holding her flush against him. His breath is hot and moist against her temple as he presses a brief kiss to it. His engorged cock is sandwiched between their bodies, pressing against her lower back uncomfortably and Belle expects his hands to dive between her legs, bringing her off quickly and insistently before he asks for the same in return. Rumpelstiltskin however picks up the bar of soap and works it to a fine foam. He places his palms under her small breasts, unhurriedly covering her skin in lather and avoiding any suggestive touching.
Belle arches against him, turning her head and seeking his lips as he slowly glides his hands over her chest, collarbones and upper arms. She is covered in soapy stains, her darkened nipples providing a contrast against the white of her skin and the foam. She aches, her belly pulsing with need for the right touch, for a determined dab of his fingers against her sensitive slit. Rumpelstiltskin cups water in his hands, washing off the soap just as meticulously as he lathered her up.
The girl's patience runs short and she reaches behind with her hand, cupping the back of his head and craning her neck to coax him into an insistent kiss, putting into it every ounce of his desire and eagerness. Belle whimpers as his thumbs finally circle her nipples, his hands roughly kneading her breasts.
She tightens her hand in his hair, feeling like she could reach her peak from this alone – from the teasing strokes of his tongue invading her mouth and the slippery dance of his palms on her chest. Belle grasps his right hand and guides it under water, pressing it flat against her crotch. His fingers spread her delicately, pushing at her entrance, but the water washes off most of her arousal. Rumpelstiltskin covers her mound, the surge of magic turning his fingertips cold for a second. Suddenly, her perception of touch is heightened; each wiggle and stroke of his fingers is enhanced. She enjoys his touch, magic or not, but she wishes she was able to feel him in turn. Belle turns around to kiss him before she stands up to step out of the tub.
"Bed?" she offers, stretching her arm out.
"Yes. But turn around." Well, isn't that a ridiculous request while she is standing there naked as a newborn, dripping water on thick carpet.
"Not a chance." Belle would cross her arms but considering her nudity, the gesture would fail to prove her point.
If she didn't know better, she would believe he was blushing – or as close to it as he gets. Rumpelstiltskin grips the edges of the tub, pulling himself upwards under her blunt stare. She doesn't know why he is always so ashamed of himself; granted, he is not particularly handsome by common standards but there is a hidden strength in his lean body that is pleasing to the eye. Even now he hunches a little as if to show as little of himself as possible and she almost feels bad for his discomfort. Almost, because she doesn't see his face; the girl cannot divert her eyes from his cock, thick and hard, swaying a little from the impact of his movement. Mesmerized, she leans forwards a little and licks a drop of water from his taut stomach.
"Belle!" he exclaims, shocked and embarrassed as his prick twitches and lightly smacks the side of her face. She almost giggles but bites her lip to spare his ego. She gently wraps her fingers around the base of his shaft, pulling down to expose the head of his cock.
"W-what are you…" the man trails off as a warm puff of her breath makes him shiver in anticipation. He wants her to do it but also dreads it.
"Just let me," she says and then her lips kiss the tip lightly as she takes a small lick across the glans.
"Belle…" He chokes on her name as if it pains him and grips onto her shoulders for balance. She opens her mouth wider, sealing her lips around her crown as simultaneously her hand moves up. He tastes like water and clean skin and she swirls her tongue around the spongy head as she strokes him with her hand. She sucks a little, applying more pressure with her fingers and the sounds he makes excites her even more than the sudden splash of his taste on her tongue.
Belle tries to take more of him in, bobbing her head on his shaft but keeping her fist wrapped around him to prevent herself from going too deep too fast and gagging. His cock throbs in her hand, impossibly hard and hot in her grip. She flicks her tongue around the head, pushing it into the small slit on top and groaning at the salty bitterness of him.
"Belle, I cannot… stop," he pleads, softly shoving her away.
Reluctantly, she takes her mouth off him; there is a small string of clear precum connecting his cock with her pink lips and Rumpelstiltskin makes an undignified whimper and quickly brushes it away with his thumb, bending down to hungrily suck on her bottom lip. He is good at multitasking because he effectively drives her mad with want with just his kisses as he gets out of the tub, cupping her rear and pressing her flush against his body.
He maneuvers her back to bed without so much as breaking the kiss or looking where they are going; Belle simply lies down, supported by his strong arms, when she can feel the mattress hit the back of her knees. The sheet clings to her wet back unpleasantly but she pays little mind to it, engrossed in the feel of his arms around her, his passionate kisses and the raw need for her.
His cock nudges the inner side of her hip and she raises her legs, hooking them up behind him. He breaks the kiss to look down and align them, resting his forehead against hers ashe carefully sinks in. He is so gentle, so considerate that her heart aches with tenderness and she can feel the tears tingle in her eyes; she blinks them away furiously, not wanting to agitate him with an uncalled emotional outburst. Belle tries to concentrate on the sweet feel of being stretched, on how his breath hitches when his full length is buried in her, how tense the muscles of his back are when he begins to move. She holds him close, her arms and legs around him tight, but still wishes she could be closer.
She digs her heels into the small of his back, gasping when he snaps his hips forward sharply and hits that sweet spot deep inside that makes her toes curl in pleasure. "Harder," she begs and he obliges, grunting as he slams into her forcefully. She digs her nails into his back as Rumpelstiltskin's teeth sink into her shoulder, his tongue laving her skin and tracing the circle of uneven marks he left. She clenches around him, trying to keep him inside but knowing it will be over soon. Belle presses a hand between their bodies and the man raises over her, supporting his weight on his straightened arms as he watches her pinch and roll her clit between her fingers as he drives himself inside her most roughly.
The pleasure is sharp and exquisite and he follows her as soon as her body begins to spasm, an added wetness between her legs and his strained moan indicating he has also reached his peak. Rumpelstiltskin rolls them both over to the side and the girl hooks her leg over him, wanting to keep him inside for as long as possible.
"We should get up," he prompts, drawing lazy circles on her back. "We've got work to do."
"And what is it?" Belle sighs and burrows her hand in the crook of his neck. "Do we really have to do something?" she mumbles and he smiles at the movement of her lips as they tickle his skin.
"As a matter of fact, we do. I've got a potion to brew and I do not trust you to be alone for too long," he explains. "You could either get yourself in trouble or cause trouble, which are equally unacceptable."
She humphs scoffingly but doesn't move.
"I love you," she whispers and hugs him tighter.
"I…" he could pretend he hasn't heard her of course or say it back but his tongue is glued to his pallet. He loves her, of course he does – there is tangible proof of that after all – but he cannot bring himself to say it. It's so simple, just three small words; there is nothing magical or special in them, but they fill him with dread. Love is a weakness, he used to say, loves makes you sick with the burden of responsibility. Whether it's confusion from where the feeling is coming from or the novelty of having someone, his lips refuse those short but complicated words. When the silence stretches, he begins to panic. Belle wants him to say it and his stomach lurches. He cannot, cannot say them. What if she leaves if he doesn't? What if he utters them and they sound forced and fake and she leaves anyways? His heart is racing and he swallows heavily. He's a master of twisting words, that's what he is famous for; since when has a common sentence presented an obstacle to the eloquent Dark One?
"I…" he tries again, but she puts a finger to his lips, cutting his off and to his own disgust, he feels relieved.
"It's alright. I know."
She gives him a peck and gets out of bed. She is so kind and understanding, accepting him for the flawed shallow creature he is. Belle smiles but there is pain in her eyes; the hurt she attempts to hide but doesn't quite succeed and he feels like a complete bastard. Just three words, not quite a lie but not quite the truth for him either, but he could have avoided the damage - or caused an even bigger disappointment.
He dresses with magic and reaches for her hand, giving her small palm a squeeze as he leads her along the twisting corridor to his turret. Rumpelstiltskin wants to tell her everything will be alright, surely he will remember her – their past – and soon and everything will make sense again. He hopes the potion will work and silently vows that he will do whatever it takes to never be the reason for her hurting again.