#petelle

“Peter?”  Belle was out on the balcony.  She said it was her favorite place to be at twilight, when the sky began to darken.  he quickly hid his box before going out to join her, staying closer to the door.  The height made him nervous.

“I was just… I think I might have to work tomorrow night.”  The station would be quiet, but it was a better excuse than explaining why he couldn’t even take her out to dinner.

“All night?  I was hoping I could make dinner for us.  I’ve never had someone to cook for on Valentine’s Day.”

“You want to cook?  Don’t you want to go out?”  She deserved candle light and decadent desserts.  

Belle shook her head.  “Too many people.  The only person I want to spend time with tomorrow is you, Peter.  But if you can’t…”

“I wanted to buy you flowers.  And dinner.  And books.”  Leather books with perfect spines and old pages that smelled of a hundred winters in front of a fire.

“Flowers get brown and fade and die.  They make me sad, because they’re so beautiful and then they don’t last.”  She slipped a hand into his.  “Do you want me to show you what I really want tomorrow night?”

“I don’t know if I can afford anything.”  He couldn’t quite look at her when she drew him back into the room.  It was painful to admit.  “Maybe if it’s small?”

“I wouldn’t call it small.”  He thought she’d take him to the computer, or the notebook that held her carefully written lists.  Instead her palm was pressed against his crotch, moving slowly.  “In fact it’s going to be just the right size.”

“You deserve…”

"You’ll get cold."  It wasn’t dark yet, but the sun was starting to set.  

"Sometimes the rain scares me, but sometimes I remember that it washes things away and leaves them clean."  She held out her hand to him.  Peter could see her fingers wiggle from the corner of his vision.

Peter joined her in the rain.

"You taste like the sunset."  Kisses weren’t so strange between them, though after the first time she’d touched him - tasted him in a way he hadn’t expected - there hadn’t been more than kisses.  

"You taste like cinnamon."  They’d had cocoa after their dinner.  He could taste a hint of it, and the more subtle taste that was just Belle herself.

"Peter, can I show you something?"  Belle took a step back, leaving his lips tingling.

"Anything."  Peter nodded.  And waited as Belle took off her cardigan.  And started on the buttons of her dress, revealing the darker yellow bra.  "Wait.  What are…"

"It was raining that first time, remember?  I thought my world was over, but you gave me your coat.  You protected me from the rain and made me feel safe.  But life’s not always about being safe.  Sometimes it’s important to take risks."  Her dress feel in a soggy heap to the ground, leaving her in nothing but a bra and knickers.  Slowly she turned in a circle.  "I love you, Peter.  And I want to know what it’s like to make love to you."

He shouldn’t stare.  He couldn’t look away.  Her skin was so pale, her nipples visibly puckered under the bra.  Water caressed her in places he’d only dreamed of touching. “Are you…”

"Scared?  Certain?  Yes, to both."  She took his hand and guided it to her breast.  "I want this, Peter.  Unless you don’t?"

Peter brushed his wet hair back from his face and tried to answer.  Three times he opened his mouth but the words didn’t seem to work.  Instead he nodded.  Not want her?  He couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t.

"Kiss me?"  Belle pulled him closer with his tie, her face upturned.  He did not hold back, but kissed her with everything he felt.  Before they were done he’d found the clasp at the back of her bra.  It fell to the ground as well.  

"You’re turn."  Belle loosened his tie, then the buttons on his shirt.  He might have felt strange standing in the rain wearing only his pants, but Belle had their fingers pressed together at the juncture of her thighs.  "The rain’s cold but I’m not.  You keep me warm."

"Your room would be warmer.  Softer."  He had never seen anything that reminded him more of the stories of ancient goddesses he’d read, but he didn’t want their first time to be on the hard ground of the balcony.  He wanted to show her that it could be good.

He hoped it could be good.  It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman.

"Drier?" She said with a giggle as she kissed him on the cheek.  She left the door open as she danced inside, heading for one of the bedrooms.  he'd never seen hers before, but the room of blue and gold suited her.  She picked up a towel.  "Yours, but only if you undress all the way."

Peter nodded, and took off his pants.  The wet material had done little to hide his erection, but even the thin cotton had added a little protection.  She could see all of him now.  But as he'd undressed she'd slipped out of her knickers as well, so he could see just as much.  "You're beautiful."

"I wish I could see me the way you see me."  For a moment she simply rested her head on his chest as she had dozens of times.  Her skin was cold, her hair dripping, but he would have been content to hold her, no matter how hard his erection throbbed.  But then her lips were warm against his skin.

"See this."  He touched her with the same reverence of a priest with a holy relic, his fingertips following the path of water drops down her skin.  Every inch of her was a wonder that he wanted to explore.  To show her what she meant to him.  His hand did not still, as they both watched.

"Peter, I need..."  She grew restless as he touched her thigh, her hand pulling him closer.  "Please?"  

He pulled her towards the bed, to sit on the edge before touching her again.  She was wet, and warm, and her eyes grew wide when he curled two fingers into her.  Her cheeks flushed and her back arched when he rubbed tight circles around her clit.

She gasped his name when she came.

"I didn't know."  She held his wrist, and with a tug told him to join her on the bed.  He curled up next to her and smelled the summer rain in her hair.  "Words can't describe it very well."

"No."  He closed his eyes and breathed.  Or tried to.  His skin felt as if it was on fire, a thousand tiny explosions under the skin.  He wanted, but refused to take.  Not unless Belle wanted too.

"Show me what words can't, Peter."  She did not whisper, or hide, but spread her legs and smiled up at him.  

"Belle."  He swallowed hard.  And watched her closely as he slowly entered her.  She did not flinch, and it was a relief and a comfort.  She smiled, and it meant even more.

"I..."  He's spent months telling himself that she needs a friend.  Two years before that convincing himself that they're nothing more than people in a strange sort of pen-pal book club.

"I think about kissing you.  I never have before.  Not you, of course, but I mean not anyone.  I want."  Her lips are soft on his before he can process the idea of her wanting him.  It's instinct that has him opening his mouth when she licks his lower lip.

It's two and a half years of dreaming about her that has him embarrassingly growing hard after only a few minutes.  When he tries to pull away Belle shakes her head.

"I'm not with you because I want to learn things, but because I want to be with you there's so much I want to learn.  Like this."  Her nimble fingers have his trousers undone before he can even guess what she means to do.

"Belle, what..."