Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own Once Upon a Time...or Rumple. Damn.

So. it's that time of the year: cool air, hardcore Christmas feels, holiday inspiration-I have far too much fun with mindless holiday fluff. Believe me, this is the first of many more fluffy blurbs to come (because this time of year, extra fluff can only be good! Plus, apparently the war is on again, so it can counter the oncoming slough of angst).

Nothing says cold weather like a mug of hot chocolate, so go get one, settle down, and enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated!

Mmmm." Belle's eyes fluttered shut as her first sip of hot chocolate trickled down her throat, the warm liquid tantalizing her taste buds. Never had she tasted anything so richly satisfying—sweet, hot, yet with a darker tang that lurked in the bottom of each sip as well, molten gold in her mouth. Sighing in ecstasy, she sank into another taste, allowing the creamy liquid to slosh around her mouth before finally swallowing, extracting as much flavor as she could from a single sip. "This is heavenly," she proclaimed throatily, opening her eyes to beam at the man seated across from her.

Gold grinned at her obvious delight, the sheer amount of joy she derived from epicurean fancies never failing to amuse him. Since their first hamburger date, he had taken it upon himself to introduce her to a myriad of food and drink options, well aware that her time spent in the asylum had derived her any sort of gastronomical enjoyment.

With the arrival of the holiday season and the frigid blast that was winter in Maine, he had decided that their next venture should be in the form of the frothy brown liquid currently cradled in her hands like a lifeline. As he watched Belle take another sip, fingers curled tightly about the mug, face an expression of pure bliss, Gold decided that he should have introduced her to the beverage weeks ago seasons be damned.

"Oh, Rum," she breathed, her smile lighting up his kitchen despite the low-hanging grey clouds and cold white snow outside, "this is wonderful." Humming in appreciation, she beamed at him from across the table. Contentment lent her a sated rosy glow, her cheeks flushed and her eyes heavy-lidded in a way that served to give Gold ideas he had been forcing himself not to entertain for some months now.

"It is one of this realm's more pleasing concoctions," he admitted, taking a draught from his own mug of the stuff (albeit without the marshmallows floating on top) and savoring the rich cocoa flavor. He preferred tea himself, but he couldn't deny the occasional venture to the "sweet side," so to speak. Judging from the obvious pleasure the concoction was providing Belle, though, he found it quite likely that his supply of the beverage would increase in exponential proportions.

Belle made a soft noise of agreement before draining what remained of her cup of hot chocolate.

Needing something to occupy his hands, Gold took another sip himself, desperately trying to prevent himself from leaning across the table and seeing just how good hot chocolate would taste with a good portion of Belle mixed in. He set his cup aside slowly, forcing himself to remember that he was letting Belle set the pace in their new, tentative relationship, that honesty and patience would prevail over passion and hastiness—even though his more passionate side was currently yelling exactly the opposite in his mind's ear.

"What is it?" he queried, quirking an eyebrow as he noticed Belle looking at him with a peculiar look on her lovely face. "See something you like?" he teased, mouth twitching.

Belle giggled, lightly setting her own mug down. "Actually," she chirped, leaning forward slightly, "yes."

His grin widened. "Do hare the joke, love," he entreated, mirroring her change in posture. "Not all of us are privy to the source of your amusement."

Smirking, Belle leaned forward and rested a fingertip lightly on his mouth, reaching out to lightly trace the skin just above his lip, her finger coming away brown. "You," she declared, "have a chocolate mustache." He commented mischievously. "What do you think, love?"

Leaning back, Belle swept her gaze up and down, eyes lingering for quite a long time on his lips, the intensity of her appraising stair making him squirm slightly in his seat. "Mmm," she debated, "I don't know…" She sat for a minute longer in false deliberation, then shook her head decisively. "No, I don't think so." Her eyes darkened almost imperceptibility, shifting from their usual azure to a deeper cobalt. "We'll just have to get rid of it, then."

In the process of reaching for a napkin to do just that, Gold froze as her words hit him, trying to tell himself that she did not mean the statement in the same context his mind wanted to interpret it. The pair had been on quite a few official "dates"—and at least as many unofficial— since the incident in the mine, but other than the occasional chaste brush of the lips or a gentle hug little had happened in the way of furthering their physical intimacy.

Overjoyed that Belle trusted him, that she still saw something in the monster, Gold put the desires for anything more in the dark recesses of his mind, simply grateful for anything Belle was willing to give. He still woke up most mornings in blatant disbelief that so perfect a creature would ever love him.

However, he was a man, and a man in true love who had been denied said love's presence for far too long. Despite all promises to himself on the contrary, he wanted nothing more than to take Belle into his arms, claim her as his own, memorize every inch of her body.

Now, sitting here in his warm kitchen with snow cascading to the ground outside and Belle sitting before him, all creamy skin and chocolate curls, the overwhelming desire to damn the careful boundaries he had erected for her swamped him, nearly overwhelming him, the careful dam he had erected around his pent-up desires threatening to crumble.

Belle rose from her chair, smiling a soft smile, a light layer of mischief gleaming in her bright eyes. "No," she instructed, gathering the hand that still rested on the folded napkin in her own. "Don't." She moved to stand beside him and leaned down, brushing the fingers of her free hand through the soft strands of hair that framed his face. "Let me."

Shocked into silence, unable to believe that Belle had actually moved so close, was standing before him with her fingers in his hair and her lips a hair's breadth from his, Gold sat stock still, trembling slightly as his darling beauty flicked her pink tongue out and ran it lightly along his upper lip.

She took her time, swiping her tongue from left to right in long, careful strokes, intent on claiming every last bit of chocolate gathered there. "Mmm," she said, withdrawing slightly to meet his stunned gaze, "delicious."

Gold could stand it no longer, boundaries or no. In a single, fluid movement, he leaned forward and captured her in his arms, drawing her to sit in his lap and claiming her mouth as his own. His hands rose to cradle her neck and face, pressing her mouth as close to his as possible, while her arms snaked about his shoulders, drawing their bodies tightly together.

He nibbled her lower lip, swiping his tongue lightly across it as he withdrew his teeth. Taking advantage of her slight gasp, he swept into her mouth, intent on learning every corner and crevice. He had waited so long for this, for her to allow him to prove he loved her, to make up for time lost and false denials. He carded his hands through her hair, the dark curls feather-soft to his touch.

Belle moaned into his mouth, a low sound of such satisfaction that he could hardly believe he was the one responsible. She returned his affections her own tongue tracing his lips before delving into his waiting mouth, intent on memorizing him even as he had her.

They lost themselves in each other, touching and tasting and savoring sensations that they had long denied themselves out of propriety and uncertainty, fingers caressing and mouths melding in the most sensual of movements.

Finally the need to breathe forced them apart, and Gold reluctantly withdrew from his Belle, both parties short of breath and flushed. Gently, he cupped a hand around the back of her neck, bringing their foreheads together, noses nearly touching. "That was…" he breathed, for once at a loss for words.

Belle grinned and pecked him lightly on the nose, running her fingers through his hair. "Agreed," she murmured, meeting his eyes with a heavy-lidded gaze.

A hint of mischief returned to him, and he smirked, ghosting his lips over hers. "So, Belle," he asked lowly, "what do you think of hot chocolate?"

She gave a low, throaty laugh and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. "It's delicious," she declared, lips moving against his as she spoke, "but not quite my favorite."

"Oh?" he queried, moving his mouth down to her neck to suck lightly at the junction of her neck and shoulder, "And what would that be?"

She gave him a look so full of impish delight that there could be no denying his personality had rubbed off on her. "Well," she murmured, drawing his head up so it was level with hers once more, "I'd have to say that would be you, Rumplestiltskin." Laughing at his growing smirk, she promptly pulled him back in for another taste.