Title: Lightning
Summary: Bella hates thunderstorms. When she sneaks into her roommate's bedroom for comfort in the middle of a stormy night, she feels an electric spark that has nothing to do with the storm. Is it possible to fall in love with someone you've known since you were three? Bella and Edward are about to find out. AH.
Pairing: E&B
Rating: M, for the obvious reasons.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
POV: Bella
AN: My first real venture into AH… just for something a little different.
xx
Thunder crashes loudly and I startle awake, cowering in my bed.
I hate thunderstorms. I always have.
It's a childhood fear that I never grew out of. They're loud and obnoxious and in all honesty kind of scary. It's like mother nature is pissed and feels the need to let everyone in the vicinity feel her rage.
The sheer power of something completely out of my control scares me. I suppose some might assume that means I'm control freak. I'm not really. I just like things quiet and well-ordered. I suppose that's an apt description for me in general. I'm the shy, tentative one who never breaks the rules.
That's the antithesis to Edward. He's been my best friend since I could talk. He's never been afraid to speak his mind and has always been more of a people person than me. If it weren't for his influence, I'd probably have become a hermit long ago.
We met in preschool. I'd been sitting quietly and minding my own business, building a colossus of a block tower when Michael Newton came sweeping in and, with the kind of self-satisfied smirk only a three-year-old can have, kicked it over without a second thought.
Edward saw it tumble down and was quick to jump to my defense. Even at three he was a force to be reckoned with. His fierce green stare made Mike wither like a flower without water.
I know now that Mike was only doing it to get my attention – how else do three-year-olds declare affection? – but at the time it was devastating. Tears welled as I mourned the loss of the tallest tower I'd ever made. Edward was my avenging angel. I looked on with awe, stunned by how brave he was standing up to Mike.
Without a word he plopped down next to me in his pint-sized overalls and shiny Spiderman shoes and helped me rebuild. Together we built an even better tower. And friendship was born.
I remember it like it was yesterday but perhaps that's because I've heard the story so many times I've manufactured memories. It's one of my mom's favourites. As our teacher, she saw it all transpire. Little Mike Newton wasn't smart enough to save his bullying antics until the teacher's back was turned.
Edward has been my protector ever since.
From thunderstorms, included. It doesn't matter that I'm twenty-four and I should know better. I don't want to be alone; especially since the crash echoing through my room seems even louder than the previous one.
Pulling on my robe, I slip out of bed, my toes fumbling on the carpet for my fuzzy slippers. Finding them, I scurry out of my bedroom as quickly as my feet will carry me. A flash of lightning brightens our living room and I dash for Edward's bedroom, flinging myself onto his bed as soon as I get the door open. Thank god he didn't lock it tonight.
He jars awake, springing into a sitting position. He spares a baleful glance at whatever has had the audacity to disrupt his sleep.
"Sorry," I mutter, though I'm not really. I already feel safer with Edward next to me. I abandon my slippers over the side of his bed and tuck myself into his side.
"Whuzrong?" he mutters, half-awake.
He's aware something is off but not enough to worry too much about it. He's blinking and yawning and I wonder how he can sleep through a thunderstorm so easily.
Another clap of lightning slaps the ground, thunder quick to follow. I cower, burying my face in his shoulder. Edward, a little more awake now, realizes the answer to his own question. A knowing smile stretches across his features.
"Thunderstorm?"
I nod, only the slightest bit embarrassed. Edward knows this quirk of mine well. It's not the first time I've snuck into his bed in the middle of the night, though it is the first time since we've lived in this particular apartment.
Now that we're no longer starving students, we can afford a nicer place than the one we shared during college. Perhaps I should amend that statement – Edward's not a starving student. He's on his way to doctorhood. His salary as a resident is a fraction of what it'll be in a few years, but it's definitely better than mine. I'm a nearly starving columnist for a local paper.
If we were both careful with our paychecks, we could probably afford our own places, but we're so used to having one another around now, living apart seems daunting.
We've been roommates since we were freshman at NYU. Neither of us had ever lived without parental support. I learned to cook so we wouldn't starve and Edward learned how to do laundry and operate a vacuum so we wouldn't look like complete slobs. Together we make one completely self-sufficient adult.
"Can I sleep with you?" I ask, though I don't need to, really. I already know he's going to say yes.
He nods, lifting up the comforter so I can slip under it. I discard my robe and sink into the warmth of his bed. It's toasty under the covers where Edward's sleep-warmed body has been resting.
I cuddle against him, shivering as another crash of thunder shakes through the room, illuminating Edward's face with an eerie glow.
"You okay?" he asks, his tone brimming with concern.
"I'm fine," I mutter, closing my eyes and trying to pretend the weather outside is bright and sunshiny. "I just don't like thunderstorms. Nothing new."
He smiles. "It'll be over by morning. Try to get some sleep."
I roll my eyes though Edward can't see me do so in the dark.
"Yeah right," I mutter. Trying to sleep now is impossible. If he thinks I'm going to sleep, he doesn't know me at all.
Light flashes. I bury my head in Edward's pillows hoping to block out the crash I know is coming.
Instead of the woodsy scent I've come to associate with Edward, I inhale a familiar floral perfume. Recognition dawns and suspicion is quick to follow.
"You hooked up with Tanya again?" I accuse.
"Maybe," he says in a way that really means yes. Yeah, he might be smooth when he wants to be, but he can't lie worth a damn.
In the dimness of the room I can make out his outline. Though it's dark, I can tell he's a little ashamed of this fact. If there's anything Edward is horrible at, it's hiding his feelings from me.
"Why?" I cry. "She's a horrible, horrible person."
The dark blob that makes up Edward's silhouette shrugs.
"It was nothing, we were both just horny and desperate," he explains, as if that makes it better. "It was a one time thing. I promise."
I bite my lip, forcing myself not to shout all the nasty slurs fighting for space on the tip of my tongue. I keep my volume steady though I have to grit my teeth to do it. "She cheated on you and then she lied about it. How can you trust her?"
I might be a quiet person but there are a few things I have strong opinions about and cheating is one of them. Lying is another. When I'm passionate about something it's near impossible to keep me silent.
Tanya is permanently on my shit list for what she did to Edward.
I used to like her, really I did. I would have even said we were friends.
Edward was notorious amongst our group of friends for having terrible taste in women. Tanya seemed like a breath of fresh air after an endless parade of weird, dysfunctional women. Not only was she gorgeous, she was smart and grounded, too. It seemed like she and Edward were going to be something permanent and I was happy for him.
Less than a month before their first anniversary she confessed to me that she'd gotten drunk at her office Christmas party and "accidentally" cheated on Edward with her boss. The previous week she had received a huge promotion and an even bigger raise. The timing certainly seemed suspect.
I suppose it was guilt that made her confess, though why she chose me as her confidante, I'm not sure. No matter how close we became, I was always going to choose Edward first. I didn't hesitate to tell her what I thought of her and where she could shove her worthless apologies.
She left me to break the news to him, the evil slut. I was terrified he was going to think I was lying but he accepted my story quietly and without question. He knew me well enough to know I wouldn't lie about something so important.
I hated seeing him mourn the demise of the relationship in the weeks that followed, as if she actually deserved that much. Nevertheless, I understood his heartbreak.
Tanya had been the first person he had ever seen himself with forever and it really shook his faith in love. He wasn't quick to give his heart away. Not like I do. I fall hard and fast for guys who probably don't deserve it. I know a thing or two about mourning lost love. I must have gained five pounds eating ice cream, demonstrating how to adequately pine after a breakup.
Though it's been more than a year, I have yet to forgive Tanya for her callous behaviour. Edward has always been a little more forgiving than I have, though. My stubbornness is legendary.
Another flash of lightning and I see Edward's sheepish expression more clearly.
"I swear to you, Bella," he says, green eyes serious, "I'm not starting anything with her. I've learned my lesson. It was just a one-time, meaningless hookup."
I grumble but there isn't really anything I can do about it. Edward is an adult capable of making his own decisions, even if he makes questionable ones. How could anyone possibly hook up with an ex without there being feelings involved?
"I hope you used a condom," I mutter, obstinate. "Can you imagine dealing with her for eighteen years?"
He snickers. "I did." I can just make out him holding back a smile. "I'm not stupid. I was taught well by you, Miss Prude."
I bristle. "I'm not a prude," I say hotly. "I enjoy sex as much as the next person. I just think it's important to do it safely. That's not a bad thing."
Edward grins, so I know for sure he was trying to get a reaction out of me and got exactly what he wanted. After two decades, he knows where all my buttons are and how to press them.
"I'm teasing you. Of course I don't think you're a prude. Remember Garrett?"
I flinch at the memory. In the spring I had a relationship – or perhaps it's better described as a fling – with the lone trainer at our apartment's gym. Every time we went to bed together, Garrett was so… enthusiastic that my bedposts knocked against Edward's bedroom wall. It wasn't until I overheard Edward and our friend Emmett discussing it a week later that I realized it was happening at all.
Though Garrett is long gone, I'm still trying to live that one down. And still avoiding Garrett for that matter. I can't look him in the eyes.
"Kind of hard to forget when you and Emmett keep reminding me," I say wryly, burying my head in his pillow as another flash of lightning hits.
"I was just proving that I don't think you're a prude," Edward explains. "Totally different. I don't know who would ever think you're a prude anyway. You're way too feisty for that."
"Feisty?"
"Yeah, you know, passionate about things that you love. When you decide something, you give it your all. You're an all or nothing kind of girl."
I'm thankful for the darkness because my cheeks heat to a fiery pink. I'm glad Edward can't see, though I know it's silly. He's my best friend; he knows everything about me, even my irrational fear of thunderstorms.
"We weren't talking about me," I change the subject hastily. "We were talking about you and Tanya."
I feel Edward shift in the bed to roll onto his back. He sighs loudly. "What do you want me to say, Bella? I swear it was nothing."
"I just don't want you to get hurt," I reiterate. "I know how you felt about her… and I don't want to her to get into your head again."
"She won't," he promises. "I haven't seen her since we bumped into one another last week and I have no plans to see her ever again. You can rest easy."
I cuddle against his side, resting my head on his chest. "Okay, but if you ever date her again, I swear I won't hesitate to murder you in your sleep. For your own benefit."
"Being dead is better than dating Tanya?" he asks. I can hear his amusement.
"Yup," I give a firm nod. I know this to be true. "She's the personification of evil."
"And who exactly do you approve of, out of the girls I've dated?" His tone is knowing; he doesn't think I've ever liked anyone he's dated, which is kind of true. To be fair, I liked Tanya until she turned out to be a huge bitch.
I scramble, scanning through all of Edward's past conquests, trying to come up with a name to present him with but I can't.
I've always been even harder on Edward's dates than he is, which, if you ask me, is only reasonable. Most of them tend to be a pain in my ass when they realize I'm his best friend and a girl. Like my gender automatically makes me a threat to them.
Some people just find it impossible to believe that Edward and I can maintain a platonic relationship without romantic feelings getting in the way.
Sure, I'm not oblivious to the fact that Edward is attractive – he's got beautiful green eyes, a kickass jawline and a mass of shiny bronze hair that begs to be touched; it's actually been known to make girls cry… like when he decided to shave it all off for charity last year – but he's always just been Edward to me. I've never considered him as a candidate for more.
What all those girls don't understand is that when you've known someone for twenty years you know everything about them, even the things you'd probably rather not know... like all the quirks that make them not so endearing. Like the fact that if I didn't cook for him, he'd probably starve or that he has a bad habit of mixing up the DVDs and their cases or that he habitually leaves crumbs all over the couch.
"Leah wasn't so bad," I say, after a struggle to determine the least of all evils.
Leah was a nice person and all, but she was dull. Incredibly dull. Like so dull that it was impossible to hold a meaningful conversation with the girl without wishing there was a rope nearby to hang yourself with.
She was a psychiatrist incapable of talking about anything but her work. Thanks to her I now know more psychoanalytic processes than Freud. If I could just obtain a medical license, I'm probably equipped to open a practice.
Edward is incredulous. "Don't lie. You thought Leah was boring."
"She was!" I insist. "You thought so, too. The only reason you put up with her as long as you did was because she was incredibly hot."
"True," he smiles. "So that's the best you've got? You haven't liked anyone I've dated, ever?"
I shrug helplessly. "What can I say? You have absolutely terrible taste in women. It's a miracle you managed to befriend me, the only sane woman you've ever had a long-term relationship with, besides your mother."
"If my mother had her way, I'd marry you," Edward comments casually.
I freeze, unsure where he's going with that statement. There's never been anything romantic between Edward and I, despite misconceptions by our parents, among many others.
"Mine, too," I comment nonchalantly. "Renee's been head over heels since the moment you stepped foot in her classroom. You have no idea how many times I've had to hear about what a 'wonderful boy' you are."
Edward's lips quirk into a smirk. "Probably about as many as I've heard that you're a 'lovely girl.' I wonder how your dad would react if we hooked up? I mean I'm pretty sure he trusts me now. Do you think that would change if he thought there was something going on between us?"
He's got a point. In my dad's eyes, Edward is like my brother; someone whose purpose is to protect me from other boys and report back to him. They've been co-conspirators in scrutinizing every man I've dated since Tyler Crowley felt me up under the bleachers when I was thirteen.
I brush off Edward's imagined scenario. It seems kind of ridiculous to think about it. Edward and I have been friends for decades. Why would anything change now?
In the dark, his arm wraps tighter around me. My stomach twists. It's not an unpleasant feeling but I've never been nervous around Edward. Not like this. I shove the feeling away.
Edward isn't done speculating. "Haven't you ever wondered, after all these years as friends, what it might be like to be more?" he asks. His voice is so soft I wonder if I'm hearing him right. "Out of sheer curiosity?"
"Um, I… uh," I stutter, unsure how answer this question correctly. Every answer seems like it has the possibility to open up a can of worms that's probably best left alone. I decide the truth is the safest.
"Yes," I admit with a twinge of embarrassment, though I'm quick to qualify it. "Sometimes after a bad breakup, I wonder why I can't find someone more like you. I guess I never really realized I was making the comparison but most guys I've dated fall short. Why should I settle when I know there's someone better is out there, even if he is my best friend?"
Edward doesn't say anything, even though this revelation seems a little soul baring on my end. Maybe I'm being melodramatic.
"Do you think there's a reason why we've never found anything better?" he asks eventually.
This time I have no answer. I'm quiet and there's just the sound of the storm raging outside. My mind is too occupied to pay any attention to it now. Edward may have finally found a cure to my fear.
"I haven't thought about it," I mutter after the silence stretches to the point I feel I have to say something to fill it. "I guess I always assumed finding your soulmate took time and patience. We're not even thirty yet. Hardly time to start pondering whether we're destined to be alone."
The room grows quiet again.
"What if soulmates don't exist?" Edward questions. "What if you have to make your own destiny and find someone who fits with you and make it work?"
This conversation is getting a little too philosophical for my tastes. Edward's musings are making me consider things I don't want to talk about.
I tilt my head to face him, though I can't make out his eyes in the dark of the room.
"What brought this on? Are you having a quarter life crisis over there?"
I feel his shoulder shrug beneath me.
"It's just something I've been thinking about."
He's still quiet and unlike the Edward I know. It's a little unnerving. Usually I'm the quiet, thoughtful one.
I smooth his hair, hoping to soothe whatever is bothering him. It's one of Edward's little quirks handed down from when he was a little boy. His mother used to comfort him and his brother that way and it still works to this day.
"You've been thinking too much. Probably the first time that's ever happened," I tease, hoping to elicit a smile. It doesn't. Instead he turns to me, altogether serious. And then his lips are on mine.
Lightning crackles through the room the moment they make contact. I pull back, startled, but Edward is persistent. His lips are back on mine and I hardly recognize the boom of thunder that follows in my shock.
His lips are soft and gentle and though I've never had the desire to kiss Edward before, I don't want him to stop. He tastes sweet and minty, like toothpaste. I'm surprised by how much I enjoy it.
The fireworks that populate the kissing scenes in my favourite romance novels aren't there, though I suppose lightning is an adequate substitute. I'm not sure if the electricity I feel humming in the air is a result of him or my innate reaction to the storm.
When he eventually pulls back, his eyes meet mine. They're so close I can make them out in the dim light. They seem huge, the way his pupils are dilated. There's only a thin halo of silvery-green circling the black.
We're both quiet for a moment, unsure how to proceed.
Though it wasn't the best kiss I've ever had in my life (it was a little too rushed and fumbled for that), it easily pulls a spot in my top ten and that scares me. If my best friend can give me one of the best kisses of my life on pure whim, what does that say about the state of my romantic life?
I stare at him, glad it's too dark to make out the finer details of his expression. That would mean he could see mine and I'm not sure I want him to see the fuchsia that I can feel sprouting from my neck up.
I want to know what he was thinking and where that kiss came from. Why now? I have so many questions to ask that I'm not sure where to start.
"That was nice," he says eventually.
Irritation bubbles up. He kisses me, twisting me into a state of total bewilderment, and that's all he has to say? It was nice? If he thinks that's going to be the end of this, he's out his mind.
"What the hell, Edward?" I snap. "That was nice? That's all you have to say?"
A clap of thunder pounds the ground as if to emphasize my statement. I feel a kinship with mother nature for a moment. She suddenly seems a little less like a raging bitch.
"Okay, it was awesome?" he tries, the questioning note making it all too clear he's not sure what he's done wrong. How can he be so oblivious? How can he not understand the magnitude of what he's done?
"Awesome," I repeat flatly. Though that may be true, the fact it is only confuses me more.
Edward pulls me into his arms and I realize I'm shivering though I don't know why. It's warm under the covers.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're upset."
I glare at him, though he can't see it in the dark. My tone makes it plenty clear, anyway. "What tipped you off?"
"You shiver when you get mad, for one, and you're shaking like a leaf. I'm not sure why you're mad though."
He tucks his chin over my shoulder, kissing my cheek. A gesture that would usually comfort me perplexes me even more.
I guess I'm not really mad, just confused.
I don't know how to explain to him that everything feels like it's been turned on its head now. Does that even make sense? It was only a kiss, after all, not an earthquake.
When I don't offer any explanations, Edward continues, "Look, I'm not going to lie. I was curious. I've always been curious. You're beautiful… and you're my friend. I always thought I was protecting our friendship. Now I'm not so sure."
I feel like I've been dropped into an alternate universe. Edward is no longer my best friend. He's someone new, someone who I don't know everything about.
"What are you saying? That you love me? Since when?"
"Of course I love you; you're my best friend." He pauses, treading more carefully. "I'm not in love with you. I think I could be, though. Since always, really."
I take a deep breath trying to process this new information. After a moment, I think I've finally wrapped my mind around it.
I ask a question to clarify. "So you decided to kiss me to see what? If you're attracted to me?"
He shakes his head. "No. I've always been attracted to you. You're gorgeous. I know you don't believe it, but it's the truth."
"Then why?"
"I told you, I was curious."
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
Edward grins. "I think I might have."
His answers are cryptic and I'm as confused as ever.
"What about you?" he asks. I can hear the smile in his voice. "How was it for you?"
I squirm, unsure if I want to answer truthfully. Being curious is one thing, admitting how much I enjoyed it is another entirely. It could open up that can of worms I so wanted to leave alone.
"It was fine. Good."
Even if that admission is a gross understatement, it's a tiny step in the direction of the truth. I get the impression Edward knows I'm underplaying it.
"Why are you so upset, then? If we're both on the same page, what's the harm in doing a little exploring? We might discover something really great."
His words make me freeze. It's something in the word "exploring" that does it, like he's suggesting that he wants to tack "with benefits" onto our current relationship status.
If that's what he's thinking, he doesn't know me at all. I've never been the kind of person who can have meaningless, casual sex, even if it would be with someone I care about.
Edward rightly interprets my hesitation.
He hastily amends, "No, no, Bella. Not like that. I mean something real. With you and me, together. We could see if everyone is right about us? Maybe there's something here. I'm in if you are."
I pause. It takes me a moment to consider.
Despite my earlier hesitation, I'm surprised to find that the idea of Edward and I isn't repulsive at all. In fact, I think I could like it very much. As I've already admitted to myself, Edward is ten times the man most of the guys I've dated have been.
I know him better than anyone. Though there's bad that comes with that, there's so much more good. This could turn into something amazing if I have the courage to take a leap of faith. The way he made me feel with that kiss is worth investigating.
I refuse to think about the alternative… that this could lead to the destruction of our friendship. I have to believe that Edward and I would recognize before it got to that point and put an end to it before our friendship was lost.
"Okay," I say, my tone soft.
Edward's grin is huge, his smile present in the kiss he presses to my cheek.
"So what does this mean?" I ask, unsure how to approach our newly redefined relationship.
We've been friends for so long that it seems downright strange to see Edward as someone other than my best friend. It's going to take some adjusting to see him in a different light.
Luckily, Edward seems to have a better idea than I do where to go from here.
"It means that you're going to be sleeping here a little more often and that when you do, I can do this."
He presses his lips against mine again and I can feel his happiness. It sends warmth shooting through me, knowing that I'm the reason for his contentment.
This time I'm prepared for his kiss and I welcome it, allowing myself to sink into the sensation and enjoy it. I'm surprised how easy it is; there's no worries or doubts and it's a lot easier than I anticipated to see him as someone other than Edward, my friend.
This is so much better than the first kiss. There's more intention, less uncertainty and it's obvious we're both feeling it. Now that we've outlined a ground rule or two, I feel a little better about letting myself revel in it.
He really is a good kisser.
I'd heard as much from various girlfriends over the years but there's something to the old "seeing is believing" adage. Experiencing it first hand really does make all the difference.
I don't want to think about him with other girls now, though. I'm surprised by how quickly that familiar possessiveness of what's mine springs up. I've never cared before, beyond wanting him to have someone who deserves him.
Minutes pass before he pulls away. When he finally does, he says, "I think I finally found a way to rid you of your fear of thunderstorms."
I realize that he's right. I haven't thought about the storm brewing outside at all. I can hear the splashing of rain on the windows but I've been focused on an electric storm of a different kind. The rhythmic patter of rain actually makes me feel safe and cozy, like it's just the two of us alone in the world.
I smile. "You might be on to something."
"Come to me for a cure, anytime," he offers. His smile is both sweet and sexy.
He's hovering over me now, so close that I can see him even in the darkness. His thumb skims my cheek.
"I hope you know how beautiful you are to me right now," he says, his lips meeting mine for the third time.
Already, the way he kisses is starting to feel familiar. I recognize the way he draws my bottom lip between his, sucking gently before brushing his tongue over it. It feels good and I have one of those surreal moments where I realize that in a month or two this might be something as common to me as breathing.
I shiver. This is a part of Edward I've never had the chance to experience before. It's thrilling, like discovering the contents of a locked room in a house I've lived in for decades. I want to know what other secrets he's keeping.
His hand finds the hem of my tank top. Testing my willingness, he carefully dips his fingers beneath it. I don't flinch away. Now that I've decided I'm okay with this, I'm in one hundred percent.
His hand is warm and sure, seeking skin that needs to be caressed. His lips never leave mine as he allows his hand to drift, exploring under the cover of darkness. I let mine do the same, snaking underneath his loose grey tee. His skin is smooth and warm, just like his hands. There's something thrilling about doing this in almost complete darkness.
I'm amazed by how much of Edward remains for me to discover. I was certain I knew him as well as I ever could. I would never have predicted he could make me feel the way I am now: wound up and desperate for something more.
I tug his shirt over his head, dragging my lips from his to allow for complete removal. He's only wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants now. I know he hates wearing boxers to bed.
He seems surprised I'm the one to initiate more, though I'm not sure why. As he pointed out, I'm an all or nothing kind of girl and I've made up my mind that this is going to be an "all" situation. Maybe it's because he's used to being the outspoken one who goes for what he wants and a part of him hasn't yet processed that there's a side of me beyond his shy best friend.
It's strange how our roles have reversed. Now I'm the one who's made up my mind while he's floundering in uncertainty. His fingers dance along the hem of my shirt as if he's unsure if he really wants it to be gone or not.
I take initiative, placing his hands firmly on the garment, encouraging him to remove it. With my reassurance, he swiftly discards it over the side of the bed. I don't wear underwear to bed either, so I'm in the same state of undress that he is, wearing nothing but a pair of cotton shorts.
Edward's voice is rough, a delicious tenor rising up through the darkness. "Bella…" he hums, "I have to check… Are you sure?"
Deciding that actions speak louder than words, I pull him down on top of me, forcing his body to meet mine. I waste no time, dropping his lips to mine in another kiss.
I can feel how aroused he is and it amazes me that he's so worked up already. We've hardly begun and it's dark so he's hardly had much visual stimulation. But there's no denying it; he's pressed against my thigh, settled into the heated space between our bodies.
It takes me a moment to recognize that I'm feeling the same way. I can feel the dampness between my legs, where my body has made clear that I want him just as much. It's strange how normal this feels. I expected fumbling awkwardness, like most first times with someone new. But it's not. This feels good and right, like we belong together.
"Bella?" Edward pulls away. "I need you to tell me you want this."
I keep in a frustrated growl.
I know he wants to be sure but there's really no need to ask. Can't he feel how desperately I'm kissing him back? How is it not obvious how much I want him?
"I want this. Now shut up and kiss me."
My lips are going to be raw and bruised in the morning but I don't care. It feels good now.
He takes my words to heart, kissing me with intensity, his lips and tongue and teeth conspiring to make me feel drugged. I'm floating somewhere on a cloud of hormone-fueled bliss.
Edward's warm, wet tongue trails down my neck, exploring skin as he makes his way to my chest. I'm prepared for the sensation of his hot mouth closing around a nipple – his blind maneuvering in the dark makes his destination clear – but that doesn't stop the strangled gasp from escaping, nor does it prevent me from arcing beneath him. He doesn't seem to mind when I grasp a fistful of his hair, either.
Wanting to return the favour, I spread my legs wider so he can settle more comfortably between them and let my hands trail down his back. I've been told I'm quite flexible but he's at an angle that makes reaching for his erection awkward if not impossible. So I settle for cupping a firm handful of his ass.
I get a better reaction than I could have hoped for. He groans my name and grinds his hips into mine. The friction of our bodies moving together feels incredible. I want to know what it feels like without the layers of clothing between us and I tell him so, hooking my thumbs in the waist of his pajama pants.
He doesn't protest when I shove them down and hastily kicks them off the rest of the way. I use the opportunity to cast my shorts aside and then we're both completely bare.
Though our eyes have adjusted somewhat, it's dark enough that we can't make one another out clearly. I get the impression that the loss of that one crucial sense is exciting for both of us. The newness of us, combined with the thrill of the unknown is exhilarating.
He's back on top of me within a few seconds, his hardness straining against my equally desperate body. His fingers – long and practiced – are added into the mix and it takes a physical effort to contain myself from wanton thrusting.
"Jesus, Bella," he groans in surprise, "you're so goddamn wet."
I echo his groan and pant that I'm ready for him.
"Please," I beg.
"Are you, baby?" The term of endearment is new and electrifying as is the way he says it. His voice is deep and raw in a way that must be reserved for moments like this.
"I need… I need…" I trail off, unsure what exactly it is that I need. But it's something, and I'm pretty sure whatever it is, Edward can give it to me and knows exactly what it is.
"Shh," he soothes, "you're almost there, aren't you, baby?"
He's right. I can feel myself being drawn closer and closer to the eye of the hurricane brewing inside me.
It's the "baby" that pushes me beyond the point of no return. Honey and sweetie are acceptable terms of endearment for a friend. Baby is different. It defines this unexplored place.
I shake and shudder as he wrings out every last ounce of sensation.
I slump back into the sheets, breathless. He settles on top of me, scattering kisses across my face. I can feel him still hard and straining against my leg. Though I appreciate his selflessness, I want to do something to return the favour, even if I am a little shaky right now.
Hauling myself up to my knees, I maneuver myself over him, ignoring his protests.
"Bella? What are you doing?"
I don't dignify that with a response. I think it's pretty damn obvious what I'm doing.
He quiets when my mouth encloses around him. I'm not sure if he's overwhelmed or just not sure what to say. I don't care either way. I want to do this for him. After the orgasm he just gave me, it's the least I can do. And to think, we haven't even made it to the sex yet.
As it turns out, I don't have as much willpower as I think I do. I last only a couple of minutes before I'm desperate to have him inside. I'm still soaked from his previous efforts and the hazy pangs of lust are back.
Despite a whimper at the loss of contact, he doesn't seem to mind when he recognizes what I'm doing. I fumble through his nightstand for a condom, relieved it only takes a few seconds to find one. He takes it from me and together we get it situated. The moment it's on, I lift myself over him, sheathing him inside of me with a firm stroke.
It feels so good; I can't help my vocal reaction.
It's only faintly surreal that it's Edward, the man I've known since I was three years old, who is making me feel this way.
"Fuck," he curses, his fingertips digging into my hips in a way that might be painful if it didn't feel so good.
Together we settle into a rhythm that has him on the edge within minutes.
I can feel him trying to hold back for my sake but I'm having none of it. It's only fair that he gets his turn. I've already had mine. I press him down to the bed, making use of every dirty trick I've learned over the years. He gasps and his hips pulsate beneath me when he can hold on no longer. I continue to rock with him until he stills.
Lightning flashes in the background and for the first time in a while I'm aware of the storm. It gives me a glorious split-second view of Edward beneath me, his face crumpled with pleasure. Pride surges, knowing that it's my doing.
I don't even mind that I didn't get off. I'm certain there will be another time and probably another after that and another the next day and the day after that.
"Give me a minute," he pants, as he discards the condom. "We're gonna do that again but this time we're going to do it right."
I grin and cuddle into his side. We're both sweaty and sated.
I've never felt as close to him as I do in this moment. It's a different closeness than what I'm used to but it's definitely something I could get accustomed to.
"It felt pretty right to me."
Though I can't see it, I know he's rolling his eyes. Competitive Edward has joined the party.
"Bella, you didn't come," he states as if this is some horrid misfortune.
I kiss his chest. "Next time."
"Every time from now on," he stresses and it's my turn to roll my eyes.
"Really? Every single time? Do you think you're some kind of sex god or something?"
I love how confident he is that there's going to be a next time. I want there to be and knowing he does too is thrilling. The transition from friends to more has been so effortless it's making me wonder why I ever had doubts. Why wasn't this an obvious choice for us the moment puberty struck?
His smug grin is in his voice. "Damn close."
I think I just might have to agree.
Joking with him like this is so easy. It's like we've managed to retain the best parts of our friendship; like how we tease one another but with this new added dimension.
"Someone's feeling confident in their bedroom skills," I tease.
He shakes his head. "Just my ability to be your undoing. You forget I know everything about you. It's going to be a piece of cake."
"You know I enjoyed that, right?" I question, wanting him to know in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. Especially not for a measly orgasm.
His hand tangles in my hair, pulling me into a soft kiss. "I hoped so. That doesn't mean it's not going to be even better next time."
"I'm counting on it," I murmur against his lips.
He yawns loudly and I decide I've kept him up long enough for one night. It's past three in the morning and he's been up comforting me for over an hour. I think he deserves some sleep. I have every intention of having him fulfill his promise in the morning.
"Sleep," I say, pulling him down so he's cradled on my chest.
Predictably, he protests but we both know I'm the more stubborn one. Eventually he quiets, another yawn making it clear he's too tired to put up much of a fight.
Edward's always been the early riser, the one who's up before the sun, while I prefer to sleep into the very last moment possible. There's few things I hate more than waking up before my alarm.
I have a feeling this morning I'm going to have a wake up call of a different variety if Edward has any say. I won't even complain if he wakes me up early.
I just hope things remain as simple as they've been under the cover of darkness. The thought of us being awkward around one another in the light of day is appalling.
As I follow him into sleep, my last thoughts are of the storm that's softened to next to nothing. I don't know if I'll be able to hate them any longer. They'll remind me of tonight.
xx
EDIT: This story is now being written as a multi-chapter. Expect it to start posting regularly soon :)