Here it is- the smutty epilogue you've been asking for! Unlike the rest of the story, this part is rated M, so please read with caution.

The wedding was less than a fortnight away, and Rumpelstiltskin felt vaguely nauseous every time he thought about it. It wasn't the idea of having Belle for his wife that sent him reeling- he'd dreamed of having Belle for his wife practically from the first night he'd known her- rather it was everything else involved with the wedding.

Dignitaries from all over the Enchanted Forest would be there, the guest list filling several pages of parchment. He'd already been to five fittings for his wedding clothes, and the embroidery alone had to cost more money than his entire village had ever seen. When he'd married Milah, all they'd done was jump over a broom and that had been the end of it. It had taken the cleric over an hour to walk him through the ins and outs of the upcoming ceremony.

Bae had taken to palace life like a fairy to the air, but Rumpelstiltskin was still waiting to be outed as a fraud and sent to live with the sheep. He understood sheep. It wouldn't be a bad life.

It would be a life without Belle however, and that was unbearable. For whatever reason, she'd chosen him, and all he wanted was to be worthy of her. If that meant wearing ridiculous clothes and memorizing all the various forms of address for visiting royalty, so be it.

There was one test he could do nothing to prepare for, and lately it had been keeping him up nights worrying. The wedding would be followed by a wedding night.

The mere thought of making love to Belle made him burn, then cringe. His soon-to-be wife was glorious- soft and warm and delicious. The slightest touch of her hand made him tremble. The briefest touch of her lips drove him wild. Rumpelstiltskin had never considered himself a passionate man. He'd never thought he could feel such intense desire, but Belle changed everything.

He was going to disappoint her.

Belle was a maiden, but surely she had some expectations. She'd assume that her husband would be able to please her, and this was not an area in which he'd ever excelled. Milah had been far from impressed by his clumsy fumbling, and the only wonder was that he'd managed to get her with child at all during their infrequent couplings. There'd been no one since her to improve his technique.

With a groan, he rolled over to bury his face in the pillows, relieved for once not to have Bae with him. The boy had his own room nearby, and while sleeping without him in the same room had initially been difficult, now he was grateful for it. It was much easier to fret when he didn't have to worry about waking his son.

His only hope was that she didn't know anything about the act, and considering how well-read his Belle was, that seemed unlikely. She'd be kind about her disappointment, but his stomach curdled at the thought of her being unhappy with him.

Eventually, Rumpelstiltskin became aware of a presence next to him, and he rolled onto his side, blinking in the dim light to make out Belle's outline as she propped herself against the pillows. "Oh, you're awake!" she said happily, leaning down to kiss him. "I thought you were asleep."

"Still awake," he agreed, opting not to explain why he'd been attempting to suffocate himself.

She snuggled down into the bed beside him, lying on her side so they could face each other across the pillow, her breath caressed his face. "The first guests arrive tomorrow," she reminded him as if there was any chance he could have forgotten.

"Things are going to get busy," he sighed. They were already busy with wedding plans and cleaning up from the long war. With the addition of the visiting nobles, he and Belle would be lucky to get a moment to themselves before the wedding.

Belle made a humming sound of agreement and leaned a little closer, her lips just brushing his. This at least was something he could do, and he kissed her lingeringly, trying to show her just how much he loved her, how happy he was that he was to be her husband. Just to be with her was more than he'd ever dreamed possible.

"So, I've been thinking," she began, sounding unaccountably nervous, which was out of character for his strong-minded Belle. "About the wedding."

Rumpelstiltskin's heart sank. He'd known it was too good to be true. Of course she'd changed her mind. He was only surprised that it had taken this long. "I understand," he rasped, his throat aching with the need to suppress tears. He wouldn't argue, would do nothing to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps she'd allow him to stay and see her sometimes if he made it easy for her. He could manage if only he was allowed to see her. "I agree."

"Really?" she asked, her bright smile hurting his heart, "I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it. We're both going to be so exhausted after the wedding that I'm afraid we won't be able to enjoy it. This just makes sense."

Her words took him aback. Belle didn't sound like she was calling off the wedding, but if that was the case, he had no idea what she was saying. "What are you talking about?"

She blushed. "I've been reading, and I think I know what to do. You'll tell me if I do it wrong, won't you? At least this way we'll have some time to practice."

Before he could puzzle out her meaning, Belle was in his arms, her hand sliding beneath his tunic to stroke his bare back, and Rumpelstiltskin nearly jumped off the bed as he suddenly realized what she wanted. Belle didn't want to call off the wedding. She didn't want to wait for the wedding at all.

He wrenched his mouth from hers, panic making his heart race. "Belle!" he squeaked, "Are you sure?"

"I love you," she told him, and he could hear the truth of the words in her voice. "I want to be with you. The wedding's so big that it feels like it's for everyone else, not for us. I want this to be ours."

While the wedding plans had strained his nerves to the breaking point, Rumpelstiltskin hadn't realized that Belle wasn't enjoying it, and he cursed himself for being so blind. Belle had enjoyed the simple life they'd shared with Bae in their little cottage. Of course this elaborate wedding didn't appeal to her.

"I love you, my Belle," he said, his stomach fluttering with nerves. Maybe this was best. She could sample the goods before deciding to buy, and if his performance was truly appalling, she still had a chance for escape.

Her smile crinkled her nose, and she brushed her lips against his. "So, what do we do?"

"We do whatever you like," he stalled, "You said you'd been reading?"

Belle bit her lip, and he had to brush his tongue over the bite marks. He didn't have a choice. "Kiss me again," she whispered, and he was glad to oblige.

Kissing Belle was a joy like no other, and Rumpelstiltskin would be happy to do nothing else. He knew her mouth, knew all the places that made her sigh and press herself against him. The rest of her was a mystery to him.

Her hand strayed beneath his tunic again, and he whimpered against her lips at the feeling. It had been so very long since anyone had touched his bare skin, and this was his true love's hand upon him. The merest brush of her fingers was ecstasy, and if he didn't take care, he was going to disgrace himself.

He stroked his hand down her back, feeling her warmth through her silk chemise, and she shivered and arched into him, her kiss growing sharper. A thought nudged at the back of his mind, so strange as to be almost unbelievable. Could his touch affect Belle the way her touch affected him?

Hesitantly he tested his theory, trailing his fingertips over her bare arm, and Belle gasped against his lips. The first burgeoning traces of confidence took root within his soul. Belle enjoyed his touch.

Both of them were breathing hard, making kissing difficult, and he tore his mouth from hers, letting his lips stray down her throat. With a soft moan, she cradled his head in her hands, encouraging him to keep going, and with her making those noises, nothing but a direct order from her would get him to stop.

Rumpelstiltskin paid close attention to the sounds Belle made, making note of the places that made her catch her breath and returning to them again and again until her nails suddenly bit into his skin.

She released him at once. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she gasped, her eyes dark in the moonlight, and he shook his head.

"Do it again," he pleaded.

When she attempted to lift his tunic off over his head, he pulled back just enough to cooperate before claiming her mouth again. His hand, acting of its own volition, cupped her breast, and her nails left a trail of fire down his spine. "Too much?" he asked, terrified that he'd gone too far, and Belle arched into his hand.

"More," she demanded, and he squeezed a little harder, her warmth and softness overwhelming his senses. She felt so perfect against his hand that he couldn't get enough, exploring her with his fingertips until he found the taut bud that made her whimper when he stroked it. "More, Rumpel. Please."

Eagerly, he replaced his hand with his mouth, drinking in her soft little cries of pleasure. He was pleasing her, not disappointing her, and it was almost more than he could bear.

When Belle pushed him away, he fought her before sanity reasserted itself, and he jerked back in dismay, afraid he'd taken it too far. Instead of fleeing the bed, Belle took hold of the hem of her chemise and pulled it off over her head, leaving her gloriously bare- pale and perfect in the moonlight.

"So beautiful," he murmured, wishing he had the words to tell her how perfect she was.

She blushed at the poor compliment, and he stole another kiss, the feel of her bare body pressed against him the truest magic in the world. It was too good, too much, and he pulled away, kissing his way back to her breasts so he could lavish attention on the one he'd been neglecting.

Belle moaned and writhed in his arms, her artless reactions giving him a confidence he'd never known. Somehow he was enough for her. He pleased her.

An idea struck him, something he'd heard whispered about in the pub. He'd tried it once with Milah who'd hated it, but perhaps Belle would feel differently. "Belle, love, there's something... will you let me try something?"

"Of course," she answered with no hesitation, and he brushed his lips against hers before coaxing her to lie back, making sure she was comfortable.

He knelt beside her on the bed, wondering how he could have ever believed she was a fairy. His Belle was far more beautiful than any fairy could ever be. It didn't seem possible that she was his.

Returning his attention to her breasts, he pressed a kiss to each before kissing his way over her stomach, unable to resist the urge to nip at her skin, and she sighed at the touch, stroking his hair.

"Rumpel?" she breathed, her voice trembling, when he reached the soft nest of curls at the apex of her thighs.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, not quite able to pull away. Gently, he kissed her damp curls, inhaling deeply. Belle smelled like paradise, and he couldn't tear himself away. "Please let me, love. Please."

After an excruciatingly long moment, she parted her thighs for him, and he sighed in relief. "If you don't like it, I'll stop," he vowed, hoping he'd have the strength to keep his promise.

She buried her fingers in his hair, and he made certain to be gentle and slow as he kissed her curls, gradually working his way lower. He didn't want to frighten her or disgust her. He just wanted her. Belle was his true love, and he wanted every bit of her.

He groaned at his first taste of her, honey-sweet and pure as the rain. Beneath him, Belle tensed, and he forced himself to pause. "I'm sorry, love. Do you want me to stop?"

Her fingers curled in his hair, and her voice was strained as she said, "Don't stop."

Permission granted, Rumpelstiltskin kissed her again, trying to learn this place as well as he'd learned her mouth. Her noises were muffled and frantic, and he felt like he'd combust just from hearing her.

Emboldened, he licked a little deeper, and Belle cried out, her fingers yanking on his hair as her entire body convulsed, and he froze, terrified. "Belle?"

She didn't answer him, and he moved to lean over her, praying that he hadn't hurt her. Her eyes were closed, her face flushed, and he smoothed her hair back carefully, relieved when she blinked up at him. "Belle, I'm sorry."

Her brow furrowed at his words, then her face relaxed into a blissful smile. "Magic," she purred, and he started when she tugged him down for a languid kiss, nestling happily against him.

He'd pleased her, Rumpelstiltskin realized in shock. He hadn't hurt her. He'd pleased her.

"There's more, isn't there?" she asked shyly when their lips parted, nibbling her lower lip as she looked up at him. "The books made it sound like there was more."

He nodded dumbly before he managed to find his voice. "We... we don't have to," he promised. He was still awestruck that he'd managed to satisfy her. If she wanted to stop, he'd have no complaints and no regrets.

"But I want to," she said, her soft hand caressing his chest, and he groaned, his body straining to be closer to her.

"Anything you want," he agreed, moving to shuck off his sleeping trousers.

Her sharp intake of breath made him freeze, and he looked down to see her staring at him, her eyes wide. "Belle?"

Rumpelstiltskin watched in disbelief as she reached out to brush her fingers over him, and he couldn't suppress his tortured groan as his Belle caressed him. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, taking her hand away and making him want to cry. "Does that hurt?"

It was the most blissful kind of agony. Shaking his head, he tried to explain, "You remember what it felt like when I... kissed you?" He nodded at her lower body, and she blushed as she nodded. "That's what it feels like for me."

He hoped he was right, hoped that Belle had felt even a tiny bit of the pleasure her touch gave him. "Oh," she exclaimed, her eyes shining with understanding. Her face brightened. "Do you want me to kiss you? There?"

Rumpelstiltskin nearly bit through his tongue at her innocent offer. "Some other time?" he managed to squeak, and she nodded.

She wrapped her arms around him as he came to rest on top of her, and he prayed to any god who was listening that he wouldn't humiliate himself or hurt her. "It... it might hurt at first," he cautioned. Milah hadn't been a maiden when she came to their wedding bed, so he'd never had to worry about such things before. If in his clumsiness he hurt Belle, Rumpelstiltskin wasn't sure he'd ever be able to forgive himself.

"I know," she answered calmly, not a trace of fear in her expression. "I want this."

He brushed his lips against hers as he took himself in hand, carefully pressing against the entrance to her body. Belle met his gaze and held it, her lips parting on a soundless sigh when he eased just the head in. "Oh."

"Stop?" he asked anxiously, and she smiled as she shook her head.

"More," she replied, and he pushed his hips forward, concentrating on being slow and gentle, trying desperately not to notice the way her body felt around him. She stroked his back like he was the one in need of comfort even as her face tightened. "Don't stop," she told him before he could ask, and he obeyed, slowly sheathing himself inside of her.

"Belle," he rasped, unable to think of anything else to say, and she smiled at him tremulously, her eyes bright.

"Rumpelstiltskin," she breathed, and he gasped as he pushed against her, finding himself in her to the hilt. "My husband."

"Belle. My wife," he murmured. They were as close together as two people could be, and the wedding was a mere formality. In this moment, they were husband and wife. This was their wedding night.

She clung to him, and he didn't move a muscle, waiting for her to signal that she was ready. It had never felt like this with Milah, never felt like he was touching her heart and soul as well as her body, and with Belle in his arms, it seemed impossible that any darkness could ever intrude on them. True Love didn't happen to people like him, but somehow it had, and Rumpelstiltskin didn't understand how he'd managed to survive so long without it.

After an eternity, she sighed and arched against him, and he could no longer withstand his body's needs. With a low groan, he started to thrust gently, struggling to do nothing too hard or too fast. "Oh, Rumpel..." she breathed, and he captured her mouth, trying to pour every bit of love he felt for her into his kiss.

It was too perfect. Even his slow rhythm was too intense, and he managed only a scant handful of thrusts more before he felt his climax starting to wash over him. He caught Belle close, burying his face against her throat as he shuddered and groaned in shameful pleasure.

When he could think again, Belle was stroking his back, her lips moving against his hair. "I'm sorry, love."

"For what?" she asked with complete sincerity, "That was wonderful, Rumpel."

He wanted to promise that it would be better next time but bit the words back, not wanting to call attention to his lacking performance. He'd made love to his Belle, and she'd enjoyed it. He hadn't disappointed her. They had years in which to refine things, but for now, he finally felt like he could breathe freely. All of Belle's ideas were brilliant, but anticipating their wedding night was the best one she'd ever had. "I love you, my Belle."

"Love you too," she murmured, snuggling closer to him with a yawn. He kissed her forehead and settled in to dream of their future.