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Beast hugs her and kisses her forehead.

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She hugs him back. "I love you," she murmurs.

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"I love you too," he says into her hair. It's the truest thing in the world.

Bed? Bed. Big comfortable bed. Beast is just going to flop down and snuggle into it, loving the cuddly softness of the blankets and the way fresh jolts of pain follow every movement.
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Belle snuggles right up to him. She's not nervous about snuggling.

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How about snuggling with fewer clothes? Because it is past time he got out of these trousers.

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She is also quite accustomed to him being unclothed.

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And kisses? Kisses are also fine, are they not?

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They are!

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Kisses, snuggling, Beast being unclothed. All good things. Nothing alarming there.

And he loves her. He loves her so much. She's a thunderstorm, a rosebush, beautiful and dangerous.
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Belle could get very, very used to being loved like this, to sinking into his mindscape and watching-feeling it all rush past her in a waterfall of affection.

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He can feel it when she does, and it makes him want to curl up around her and do his best likeness of a purr.

Like so.
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"I love you," he mumbles into her shoulder. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

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"I love you too," she sighs happily.

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Snugglesnugglesnuggllllllllllllle.

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He giggles, and kisses her again.

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Kisses, kisses, kisses!

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Kisses kisses kisses snuggles kisses cuddles kisses nuzzles kisses.

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This could go on for a while, couldn't it?

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It could!

There is also the matter of hands.

He has those now. Without fur or claws or inhuman crushing strength.
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He does. He does have hands.

What ever shall he do with them?
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He has some notions!

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Will he be sharing them with his blushing bride?

(There is blushing. There's considerable blushing.)
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"I love you blushing," he says, and kisses her, and - although he is quite sure she saw it already - suggests a notion.

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