So, truthfully, this was the first fic I ever began writing. Of course, like so many of you other dirty birdies, I got to the fade-to-black in BD and was a little incensed. And then I got inspired and wrote part of this little story. I let it stew for a while (a long, long while) as I began reading fics for the first time. I found so many wonderfully written Isle Esme scenes that I figured mine was a little pointless.
BUT there was something that always bothered me about the bruises that no fic I read seemed to deal with, so I wrote it into this story. So, basically this story is about solving a problem for me. I don't really fancy myself a lemon writer, but I wouldn't leave you hanging. The lemons are in here, and I think they're fairly…satisfying ;)
Anyway, read and I will see you on the other side. I warn you, it is longer than a standard one-shot. It covers the material from pages 81 to 108 (large parts of chapters 5 and 6) of Breaking Dawn and, I believe, conforms to canon.
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Trust Exercises
I willed myself to walk away from her, opening the bedroom doors that led directly onto the moonlit beach. I dropped my shirt on the floor as I went. Behind me, I heard the faintest gasp of her breath, any human would have missed, and her heart accelerated again. At least, I knew that the physical attraction part of this equation would not be difficult for us.
When I was standing near the water's edge, I turned and looked back to the room, searching for her. She was lifting something out of her suitcase, before scowling slightly and dropping it. Knowing the way Alice had packed for this trip, I could only assume she was looking at some of the very delicate items. I suppressed a shudder as I pictured Bella in lace and not much else.
I smiled then, as I thought how I was fantasizing about a married woman. Married. Wife. Husband. My Wife. Her Husband.
I slid off the last of the clothing I'd worn on the trip, hanging it on a low limb of a tree. I stepped slowly toward the water and walked until I was waist deep in it, savouring the feel of the sand on my feet and the gentle sensation of the current breaking around my torso.
I listened for Bella inside the house, but couldn't hear much over the lapping of the waves. I absently wondered what she was thinking, reaching out but getting only more silence. I wondered if she was feeling as apprehensive as I was. The difference, I supposed, was that she was set on this plan. I'd fought it from the first moment. She really seemed not to know her own delicacy. How infinitely breakable she was. Even by human standards, she was so obviously slight, her flimsy skin providing such little protection for the body underneath.
Like catching a snowflake on a human finger, I was so afraid that my body, my nature, the parts of myself that I couldn't control, would be too much for her. If I was even the slightest bit hasty in my actions, I could unintentionally do the one thing I hoped never to do again; hurt her.
Finally, I heard her feet padding out onto the sand. I wanted, desperately in that moment, to turn and look at her in the moonlight, but I heard her trying so hard to slow her breathing. I would not make this more difficult for us by being some sort of wicked spectator.
Instead, I looked up at the moon and listened to her. She stood for a moment near the palm tree before I heard the gentle falling drape of fabric, and more footsteps in the sand. I shivered lightly, in a rare involuntary movement. I heard her reach the shore, walking cautiously into the ocean. Her breathing was less erratic than a moment before.
As she reached me, she put her hand on mine, resting at my side on the surface of the water.
"Beautiful," she whispered. I glanced toward her face and followed her gaze up to the moon above us.
I considered for a moment. In that brief sidelong glance, I noted the way her skin looked even more translucent in this light. I tried not to notice the gentle curve of her breast or the water lapping around her ribcage. She was so small, so delicate. It frightened me more than anything ever had in either of my lives.
"It's all right," I murmured, utterly blasé. I turned slowly to really look at her, flipping my hand over to catch her fingers in my own. "But I wouldn't use the word beautiful. Not with you standing here in comparison."
It was true. She was the most devastatingly beautiful creature I'd ever seen. Not just for her face, though I couldn't believe I'd ever thought her plain, the way she looked here now. Not for her body either, though the basest human part of me was absolutely aware of that beauty too. But most of all, for the trust scrawled across her face. For a moment, I felt stronger than I ever had. She trusted that I could do this without hurting her.
She smiled gently, lifting her other hand from the surface of the water to the centre of my chest. Water rolled down my torso and again, I suppressed a shiver at the feeling. God, if her hand on my chest was doing this to me, how was this going to work. Suddenly she looked very small again.
"I promised we would try," I whispered. "If..." Oh God, if. If I hurt this small fragile...human before me. I was just too afraid to finish the thought. I simply didn't know what I would do. "If I do something wrong, if I hurt you, you must tell me at once." Better yet, don't let it get that far. Stop me now. Tell me that we're better off waiting.
She nodded, and I knew that I couldn't deny her this human experience she desired. I didn't want her denied any human experience for loving me. She stepped toward me and laid her face against my chest, her cheek just a little warmer than the ambient air.
Her logic had been flawless when she convinced me to do this.
But just purely physically, she had posited, I'll always be thirsty, more than anything else. I couldn't argue with that. The change would fundamentally alter her. I knew it wouldn't change her in any ways that would change my feelings for her. But I was also aware that she couldn't know how it would alter her feelings exactly.
Right now, physically, there's nothing I want more than you. More than food or water or oxygen. Intellectually, I have my priorities in a slightly more sensible order. But physically... she had trailed off.
My first reaction was that there was simply no way. But then she'd whispered please so delicately into my chest that the urge to give her anything she wanted had overwhelmed me. I'd promised we would try to consummate a physical relationship if she married me.
And here, with her face against my chest was Mrs. Bella Cullen. Now, as much as it terrified me, I had to hold up my end of the deal.
As if she could hear all my thoughts, she whispered to my chest "Don't be afraid. We belong together."
I knew that was true. I'd waited too many years to doubt the kismet of my meeting her. I'd been alone because she hadn't been born yet. When she stumbled into Forks High School that day, I knew that the course of my existence had shifted. I just hadn't figured out how then.
I slid my arms around her in earnest, feeling her warm body press against me now.
"Forever." I was fairly certain that 'forever' was still a nebulous concept for her, but in 100 years, I'd started to develop a sense of it. And I meant it here, with her. Forever.
I walked out deeper into the water, pulling her with me until her collarbone started to disappear under the waves, then I sunk down next to her in the water. As much as I wanted her, I also wanted to delay this inevitability a little further, so I unwrapped my arms from around her, and leaned back in the water, drifting, still holding her hand. She leaned back too, so we were floating together, staring at the sky.
She sighed and I tensed just slightly. It drove me crazy, not knowing. Here, in the stillness, there were no thoughts at all to hear except my own. I wanted to know the exact reason she sighed. Was she cold or uncomfortable? Irritated by the delay? Changing her mind, perhaps, about this whole dangerous situation? I had to know.
"What?" I whispered. "I'm not a mind-reader, you know?" I teased and looked at her.
She laughed lightly. "I'm content. This is beautiful. You are beautiful." A spark seemed to surge through my chest and she pulled me toward her, treading water now. Water cascaded down both our necks, and I smiled thinking I knew exactly what she meant. "And you are a mind-reader. I've just got an odd mind."
Before I could protest, she wrapped her legs around my torso under the water and kissed me. Between the water rolling off me, the warmth emanating from every part of her, the moonlight, her tongue suddenly in my mouth, and her fingers tangling up in the hair at the base of my neck, this was the most sensual, erotic moment I could remember ever having experienced.
Suddenly my delaying seemed very ridiculous. I wanted her. Immediately. In every way I could want her.
When she turned her face from mine, gasping for air, I murmured against her neck, "Maybe it's time for bed, my love. It is getting late."
She turned to eye me, not entirely sure what to make of my words. When she saw the wicked glint in my eye, the curve of my grin, she smiled. "It is late indeed," she whispered. "Very late." She pressed her mouth to mine again and I walked us slowly toward land.
When we were almost completely out of the water, she shivered. The water must have been keeping her warm, but now the drops beading and evaporating off her skin were probably almost worse than being pressed against me. Just the same, I set her on her feet and grabbed the towel she'd hung over the palm tree to wrap her in it. She pulled me to her, just the towel between us, and said fiercely, her eyes glinting much like mine had only a moment earlier, "Now, dear husband... your wife,"— she knew the effect that word had on me— "would like to be taken to bed. Would you be willing to help her with that?"
"Happy to oblige," I smiled back and lifted her feet out from under her, carrying her into the house. I set her gently on the sheets of the big, white bed, where they'd been pulled back. Before I could stand upright, she was pulling me down on top of her. I cautiously placed my knee on the bed and she wiggled toward the centre of it, pushing the towel off and onto the floor.
It was perfectly silent except for the sweeping of palm fronds outside the window, the gentle lapping of the tide, and Bella's heartbeat. Her heart sped like that night in Port Angeles; like she was being pursued by some dark, violent creature. Though in this case, the dark, violent creature was me.
I must have looked a little apprehensive but she whispered "Kiss me," and things seemed to fall into place. I leaned down, kissing her gently at first, but responding as she pushed her tongue into my mouth and sucked on my lower lip. I didn't know where to put my body, afraid of hurting her. I shifted to place my knees on either side of hers and my elbows beside her shoulders, balancing my weight.
Gingerly, I lowered my body enough to graze against hers, still not sure how much pressure to exert. She wrapped her arms around my back and pulled my weight down onto her, harder than I would have expected. I hissed, low, through my teeth at the feel of her warm body against me.
"Bella," I murmured. "Bella, slow down. There's no reason to rush."
"But Edward, I need you now." She pleaded with such urgency, I very nearly did something I would regret. But instead, I began sucking a line of kisses down her neck to her collarbone, then down the line of her sternum, stopping when my face was inches from her bellybutton. On my way back up, I stopped at her left breast, lightly kissing her nipple. She moaned and pushed her body toward me, so I took her hot, tensed nipple into my mouth and sucked lightly, so carefully avoiding my teeth.
"Edward," she gasped, and I very nearly forgot the differences between us. "Please."
I couldn't help but growl, low in my throat, before I brought my face back to hers to kiss her swollen, pleading mouth again.
"Edward," she whispered between kisses and panting breaths. "Edward, touch me."
"Bella, I..." how to explain all the things I was thinking? "I don't know how to. I just can't hurt you. Forgive me."
"You won't, Edward," she said, taking my hand in hers, sliding my palm against her torso. "You know how to touch me. Trust me." With that, she slid our hands further, lower, past the dark curling hair to the warmest part of her. As softly as I could, I slid a finger against her clit, barely pressing. She grabbed my hand again and pushed me more firmly against her, gasping at what I guessed was some combination of the pleasure and the coldness of my hand.
My hand started to work a slow circle against her. She writhed and panted. The sounds she made were even harder to ignore than the sight and feel of her pink, naked body moving under me.
"Edward, please. I'm ready. I need you," she whispered. I moaned again, kissing her mouth. Maybe if I kept kissing her long enough, she'd forget this whole ridiculous thing and fall asleep.
I brought both my hands up near her face again, supporting my weight back on my elbows and kissed her, more forcefully than usual. But I knew she would figure it out. Her intelligence was one of the things I loved so much about her. I only had a moment to hope.
"Edward," she pulled her face back from me, knitting her eyebrows together in confusion. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," I leaned in to kiss her again.
"Well clearly," she scoffed.
I sighed and rolled to lie beside her now, looking up at the netting around the bed frame, the white ceiling beyond.
"Edward," she whispered, soft again. She pulled herself up onto my chest, legs still beside me. "I know, Edward. I know you're scared. But don't be confused. You'd be scared whether we were doing this here and now, or whether we were both vampires. And certainly if we were both human. No one ever said sex was easy."
She giggled a little at this and I couldn't help but smile with her. "Look," she said, still smiling. "We can do this." She moved now, to straddle my body, settling her hips down with a contented smile.
"I know I'm ready. I know you're ready," she wiggled meaningfully down my body as I gasped a little. "We're ready. We're perfect. We're golden."
She leaned down to kiss me and lifted her body up just enough to line us up.
"Here goes," she whispered closing her eyes and biting her lower lip, as she slid herself down over me. Her warmth, wetness, the close feeling of our bodies together. My worries evaporated significantly. All I could think about was this feeling and her. Beautiful Bella. She hadn't really moved yet, just waited, settled down on me, eyes squeezed shut. I was incredibly glad to let her control the pace. Less chance of problems this way. But her eyes were still closed and I needed to know. This must be hurting her. At least I didn't smell any blood. I hadn't really considered that possibility.
"Bella, please. If this is hurting you," I couldn't think, "please stop. I can't—"
"Edward," she said sharply, cutting off my words. "Will you please stop that? I am trying to enjoy myself."
She kissed me again and slid her body up and back down against me, slowly. I closed my eyes, hissing again against my teeth. "Now, why aren't you?" she murmured near my mouth, smiling.
"You have no idea, Bella. You couldn't possibly. This is..." I considered. "You are...oh Bella," I whispered as she moved against me.
"Edward," she moaned, sliding again. "Oh, Edward. Please," she whispered. Her fingernails pressed against my skin and I knew that if we were both human, she would be leaving marks on me.
She started to roll to the side, pulling me with her. She rolled and pulled until once again, I was over her body. I waited a moment inside her, savouring this feeling, fighting the side of me that didn't want to be nearly this controlled.
She moaned as I began to move slowly against her. The warmth was almost unbearable. In a terrifyingly good way. Her eyes were unfocused and she was biting into her lower lip, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. I brushed some of her hair away from her eyes. I wouldn't have thought it possible for her to look more appealing than she always did, but the way her pupils dilated huge and black, the way her eyelashes fluttered, the way her face flushed pink all over, she was the sexiest thing I could even imagine in the wildest fantasy I'd ever had.
As I started to build a rhythm, speeding slightly, listening to her heartbeat speed too, she moaned, sounds seeming to escape from her unwillingly. My jaw was aching to latch onto something, so I reached out beside her and bit into the pillow, willing some semblance of control to return to me. The taste of the cotton pillowcase, and the ease with which it tore against my teeth reminded me why I had to be careful.
But I knew I was dangerously close to the edge. I had to know.
"Bella," I groaned, trying to phrase a question that just wouldn't come out.
"Close. So close," she knew what I was asking, her voice moving a few tones higher. "Oh god, oh god. Edward." She pulled me closer to her, her lips searching for my mouth again. I lost touch with all my senses, except the feeling of warmth surrounding me, and pleasure radiating from inside me as I moved in her.
Her body suddenly tensed and shuddered violently as she moaned. Oh god, Bella. One part of my brain screamed commands like faster and harder, while another part told me to stop before I lost control completely. But then Bella, always Bella...
"Edward," she moaned again. "Come for me, Edward. I need to hear you come. Please."
As ever, I couldn't hear her say please like that, and deny her anything she could want, so I sped up my rhythm, thrusting deeper, letting the warmth overtake me, become my only thought.
A moment later, I succumbed to my own orgasm, willing myself to be still even as shudders still racked through me.
I rolled us to our sides with my face against her chest, listening to her heart crash, so close to the surface, so fast, so dangerous. She stroked my hair gently. Slowly, her breathing normalized and I lay back on the pillow. The rational part of me figured Bella was happy, but the nagging voice couldn't help but worry. Was she hurt? For the hundredth time in 48 hours, I wished I could hear her thoughts.
But she crawled herself up towards my chest, collapsing her upper body against mine and sighing, breathing slow and deep now. I curled my arms around the warmth of her body and listened as she fell asleep just there, where I hoped she'd be forever.
I concentrated on her every breath, until I knew she was asleep. Her breathing was slow, even, deep, and her eyes would occasionally flutter the slightest bit.
It had probably been 40 minutes when she rolled away from me and moaned my name.
The sound was different than it had been earlier in the night.
"No, Edward. Stop." Her words slurred and rolled. "Wait."
If my skin hadn't been cold already, it would have gotten colder then. She kicked her feet and the covers slid away from her body. Dread sunk into the core of my body.
Her ribcage and arms had several wide reddened swathes across them. I cautiously pulled my arm out from under her neck, and for a moment, I thought I'd woken her when she started to speak again.
"Edward, wait. No, please." She was still sleeping, though there was an edge of frantic intensity I hadn't heard in her voice in a long time. At least since we'd talked about getting rid of the Seattle newborns, when she'd asked me to stay with her instead of joining the fight.
I leaned in to inspect the redness on her skin. When my face was close enough to her skin to feel warmth radiating from her like a light bulb left on too long, I could see what human eyes would not. Sure enough, under the skin, blood was just faintly starting to pool; a bruise. I'd bruised her.
I tried to trace an outline with my eyes, but the edges weren't definite yet. If she'd looked at her own skin, she might not even know she was bruising yet. But by morning, I knew they would be there, reproaching my actions, condemning my lack of restraint.
Agony, fresh and stinging, began to overwhelm me. Irrationally so. I knew Bella bruised at next to nothing. Her skin was far too thin and delicate to protect her. But nonetheless could I forgive myself for hurting her. I wanted to smooth the bruises away with my fingertips. I wanted to wake her to apologize. I wanted to take myself away from her so I couldn't hurt her again. But I knew that I couldn't remove the bruises; that waking her would only be worse; and that I couldn't leave her, not again.
So instead, I slipped off the bed, to walk in the warm evening outside, pulling the sheets gently over Bella's naked form as I went.
By the time the sun started to lighten the edge of the horizon, I had walked the island several times, checking to make certain Bella still slept. She hadn't moved enough to kick the sheets away again, so I was fairly certain she hadn't spoken much more either.
I didn't want her to know I'd ever left her side, so I crept back into bed, dropping the robe I'd wrapped around myself in a ridiculous showing of modesty; No one would be anywhere near the island for some time, and I would hear them coming before they would see me.
When I lay back on the bed, she seemed to feel my weight and she rolled against me, snaking one arm over my chest. Her body was incredibly warm, maybe too warm, even for her, and her face showed a light sheen of perspiration. It was too hot here for her comfort. I should have realized that. I would need to see about getting air conditioning for her.
I put my arms against her overheated skin, hoping to help cool her. I continued listening to her breathe. It was getting quite light through the window now, and I could hear her breathing shifting from the slowness of deep sleep to the edge of wakefulness.
I looked again at the bruises on the arm she'd laid across me. They were dark enough to be visible even to human eyes now, though still faint. I could see the edges; the front of her arm had one dark spot which wrapped around to the back to form four distinct bruises. A hand. My hand, gripped around her upper arm. I didn't even remember holding her there, but I must have.
I knew there were a few moments where I hadn't been nearly careful enough. When she'd made her last request of the evening from me, I knew I'd forgotten, though briefly, how careful I had to be. I'd lost myself in the flame-hot warmth of her, and it had felt better than any other feeling. But that brief instant must have been when I'd hurt her.
I looked at her face, still asleep, but barely; she would wake in the next few moments, unless she slipped back into sleep. She even had a slight bruise under her eye. A fresh wave of remorse rolled over me. Had I brushed her hair away from her face and pushed just a little too hard? I couldn't remember it, but the bruise was definitely there. Not remembering just made me feel worse. Not remembering meant I was even less in control than I had thought. Even this, laying here, holding her felt too dangerous suddenly. She was just too fragile.
I heard her sigh awake. She didn't open her eyes immediately. I idly traced my fingers up and down the line of her vertebrae, feeling the minute peaks and valleys there. She tightened her hold around my neck, and rubbed against me, making it so much harder to concentrate on berating myself.
She giggled, her mood light, but I couldn't bring myself to smile, knowing she was probably in pain. As soon as she realized I wasn't laughing with her, she sat up, looking serious. I faintly hoped that she was about to yell at me, because that was precisely what I deserved for what had passed between us in the night. I deserved worse than any words she could hurl at me, worse than anything even Jacob Black could do to me. I deserved for her to leave me.
But instead of anger, she acted as though she couldn't understand what was wrong. I hadn't considered that she might not blame me for this, but now I thought that might be worse than any amount of anger. That would mean she really did have no sense of self-preservation. No righteous indignation about being hurt during something that should have been so perfect and so human.
Her forehead wrinkled up and I asked what she was thinking. Of course, I should have known that she was blaming herself, trying to determine what action of hers was to blame for my mood. She was so selfless; she would take anything onto herself. But the blame here was entirely mine to bear. She was making this harder on me. By not being hard on me. I asked how much she was hurt, and as she considered this, her brown eyes suddenly turned stormy. I thought finally she was going to be mad at me for this, but she went the entirely unreasonable route of denial, acting as though she wasn't hurt at all.
"Stop that," I asked her, sounding perhaps angrier than I should have. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the bruises, knowing that as punishment I should have to look at them forever for the pain it caused me.
"Stop what?" She sounded a little incensed now. At least that was better than her attempt at innocent confusion.
"Stop acting like I'm not a monster for having agreed to this."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Edward. Don't ever say that." Now her voice sounded pained.
"Look at yourself, Bella. Then tell me I'm not a monster." I didn't want to see the look on her face, so I kept my eyes closed.
After 2 very long heartbeats (hers, naturally), she gasped. I knew it was coming. She had seen the evidence now. Maybe I'd been too hasty thinking that she was going to run screaming from me so long ago when I had first taken her to the meadow. But I knew she was going to do it now.
And then she asked about the damn feathers. All I could think was you must be kidding me. I explained about the pillows before finally giving up and pointing to the dark bruising on her arms and torso.
Her eyes roamed over her body for a moment. She took her other hand, pressing a fingertip to one of the more violet bruises, watching her skin react to the pressure.
As she finally understood, guilt speared through me, like a shiver.
I whispered an apology, unable to tear my eyes away from the violence evidenced on her pale skin. I wanted to vomit, but my body wasn't capable of that sort of reaction, so I laid my arm over my eyes, trying to block out the image of myself losing control with her. I replayed a dozen moments in my head at once; moments where'd I'd known the right thing and what I wanted didn't match, and I hadn't done the right thing.
I shouldn't have agreed to this ridiculous, risky thing with her. I shouldn't have let our physical relationship progress to a point where she thought it wise or even possible for this to happen. I shouldn't have kissed her by her truck, after the meadow. I shouldn't have taken her to the meadow. I shouldn't have touched her—ever. I should have stayed in Alaska after that first day in Biology.
Her warm hand on my arm brought me back to Isle Esme. She was probably pulling on my arm, but the fact that I barely registered the force just proved my point.
"Edward." No. I can't look at you.
"Edward?" She waited again.
"I'm not sorry, Edward. I'm..." she paused, and I considered the words that should fit here; horrified, disgusted, alarmed. Of course, she instead chose happy, as though she could possibly be happy. And then she began to tell me she was fine, and I couldn't stand for her to deny it anymore.
I begged her not to say it, and managed to really hope for half of one second, that she wouldn't.
"But I am," she whispered.
I pleaded again, and this time she finally seemed to muster a little anger at me. She told me I was ruining this, ruining her happiness.
Too late, I thought. I ruined this sometime last night. Or maybe months ago when I agreed.
Then, again she surprised me, saying how she wished I could hear her the way I could hear everyone else. From the moment we met, I'd wished for that, but she'd always been incredibly happy I couldn't. She was the only person I'd ever known who could lie to me, protect her real feelings. I didn't think she lied to me really, but I knew she edited, and I wished like hell she wouldn't. At least today, we were equally frustrated by this one point.
We argued more, as she described that it was everything she'd wanted it to be. But then she started acting as though my anger was because perhaps I hadn't enjoyed myself, when really, it was the fact that I had enjoyed myself that was causing me so much anguish. She thought that my response reflected in some ridiculous way on her ability to turn me on. If only she knew what she did to me.
I wanted to gather all of her closer to me, to have her read my mind. I had never imagined she would think that I was rejecting her, that I hadn't felt immense physical pleasure and a new closeness with her that hadn't been before. I really was horrible to make her think that. She finally looked at me when I hadn't said anything for a moment.
"It seems that I have more to apologize for." I frowned at her, trying to phrase this neatly. "I didn't dream that you would construe the way I feel about what I did to you to mean that last night wasn't, well, the best night of my existence. But I don't want to think of it that way. Not when you were..." I wasn't sure how to finish, but she started smiling at me again.
"Really? The best ever?" She sounded like a child on Christmas morning.
I couldn't resist touching her now, holding her face gently. I told her about my conversations with Carlisle leading up to last night, trying to even hint at how much she meant to me. She couldn't ever know just how much she had changed me. Meeting her had shifted the poles of my earth. Nothing could ever continue as it had been.
Then I told her about my brothers. About how, for them, sex was wonderful; a close second to human blood. Perhaps my years of abstinence from human blood had fundamentally perverted my taste, but being with her last night, I couldn't place it second on any list. It was the greatest thing I had ever experienced, better even than tasting her blood had been. Though admittedly, the circumstances under which I'd tasted her were so far from ideal that it coloured my opinion. But last night had still been more.
I had read so many thoughts from the couples I called my family, and I just knew that my relationship with Bella was more. Deeper, warmer, brighter, perhaps because she was human. Because we had overcome so much to be together.
"It was more," she said, her eyes burning warm brown in the sunlight. "It was everything."
But that didn't make it right. I told her so, arguing, but she grew more angry and sad as she spoke. I hadn't intended that. It did us no good to be unhappy on our honeymoon. Just because we couldn't spend it like most couples, didn't mean we couldn't enjoy ourselves.
I would have to watch her healing bruises for days, in place of the chastisement that she would never give me. More importantly, I would just have to ensure that she wouldn't be hurt any more. That was simple enough. Physically, we would just go back to where we had been before the wedding. Certainly, it would be more difficult, knowing what I was missing, but the sickening twist inside me at thinking how I had hurt her, well, that was plenty of motivation.
"You're right," I admitted to her. "The past is the past and I can't do anything to change it. There's no sense in letting my mood sour this time for you. I'll do whatever I can to make you happy now."
Her face held a question which she started to ask, but her stomach had other plans. There I went again, ignoring her human needs for myself.
I rose, figuring the sooner we got away from the scene of the crime, so to speak, the simpler it would be.
She asked me about Esme's pillows and I tried not to sound too bitter, but I really couldn't believe how selfish and negligent I'd been.
And then she got out of the bed perfectly naked and, save for the ever-darkening bruises, perfectly angelic. She immediately took my gasp of shock as some sort of rejection.
When she began examining herself in the mirror, I really hoped she would turn around and take a swing at me. I'd have to stop her or else she would undoubtedly break her hand, but I wanted her indignation anyway.
It never came, but she did groan and complain about the feathers in her hair, of all things. I helped her, pulling feathers out of her hair until she grew frustrated with the process and asked if I wanted to help her in the shower instead. This was going to be difficult.
Every 17-year-old instinct in me screamed that wet, naked Bella had proven to be nothing but wonderful, and that I should take any opportunity I could get to relish the feeling again. My predatorial instincts were similarly stimulated by the thought. But this was my beautiful wife. My breakable, beautiful, fragile human wife.
I turned and nearly fled to the kitchen to make breakfast for her. I wasn't strong enough to endure very much of her seduction routine, so I hid away like a child, even knowing that she would probably blame herself for this mess I'd made. I just couldn't win.
After breakfast, she thanked me and leaned in the kiss me gently.
I responded immediately to her warm mouth against mine before I remembered that I would have to be extra cautious now. I certainly didn't want to tease her since I could not follow through now. I felt, already, like a failure as her husband. She sensed my hesitation and pulled back, her eyes already narrowed.
"You aren't going to touch me again while we're here, are you?"
I knew what she meant, but I couldn't help myself, pressing a palm against her cheek. Of course I would touch her, but I couldn't risk hurting her again. Once was too many times.
"You know that's not what I meant."
"I know, and you're right. I will not make love with you until you've been changed. I will never hurt you again." I felt absolute shame that I couldn't be the husband she deserved. One who could make love to her passionately without risking her very life.
I knew she wouldn't be easy to sway, but my plan was simple. I would keep her occupied such that she'd be too busy and tired to think about what we weren't doing. Besides, I really did want her to have as many human experiences as she could.
For example, after she was changed, she wouldn't be able to swim with the porpoises the way she did the next day. They always knew we were dangerous. If I stayed away from the water though, she was able to swim close with them, touching their smooth, wet backs. We laughed together when I described how terrible most sea life tasted. Most fish were too small, and sharks were awful, cold-blooded as they were. I didn't have the heart to tell her that porpoises were not so bad. At least they were warm blooded mammals.
For the first few days, the plan seemed to work. We explored the island. I cooked elaborate meals. She must have been expending enormous amounts of energy because she ate and slept more than usual. I was grateful for it.
But on some level, I knew it wouldn't last forever. Finally, one night, her tactics changed.
First, she came flouncing out of the bathroom in this ridiculous, fiendish, black lace...thing, and asked what I thought.
Through gritted teeth, I'd responded that she looked beautiful, as always, but mentally I couldn't help adding that she looked so provocative, I could hardly stand it.
Then, she brought out the big guns. She offered the one thing that had much chance of changing my mind.
She would go to Dartmouth for a semester. As a human. "Eighteen, nineteen. It's really not such a big difference," she'd said, echoing exactly what I'd been telling her nearly since she found out I was immortal. "It's not like I'm going to get crow's feet in the next year."
"You would wait," I all but whispered. "You would stay human."
At that moment, I decided my first instinct when we met had been exactly right. She was a demon sent from my own personal hell to torment me. The torment was just so much more appealing than I'd expected from hell.
"Why are you doing this to me?" I whined. "Isn't it hard enough without all this?" I snatched at the lace around her hips. Controlling myself was damn near impossible, but with her adding all this additional pressure, I felt certain I was going to explode.
Truly, she was only offering a few more months. To an immortal, that was like the blink of an eye, the snap of fingers. I knew she would still demand to be changed eventually; she was beyond convincing on the subject of her soul. And truthfully, at this point the only thing that could convince me not to change her would be if she asked me not to. I was too selfish. I needed her for eternity.
And though I'd once thought I would do anything to have her stay human longer, could I really let her risk her safety? Knowing she would stay human longer with this caveat to our relationship—a caveat that was, frankly, every teenage male's fantasy come to life—was just another nail in the coffin of my control. But the thought of watching broken bones heal, or a hurried change because I lost control? It made me feel a physical sickness.
So no. I could not allow it. In no uncertain terms, I told her I wasn't open to deals.
She slept soundly until 2:26, when she started to move ever so slightly. It had started with just the occasional whimper and twitch of her feet. Then the whimpers grew a little more sustained and she breathed my name. Her feet stilled, but then she'd pressed her hips against my side once, twice. She began gently undulating in her sleep, whispering my name and I could only assume the sort of dream she was having. I tried, valiantly I think, not to let it arouse me. Wasted effort. Between the helpless whimpers, the lingerie (care of my soon-to-be-dead,-when-I-got-my-hands-on-her sister), and the impossible way I loved her, I just couldn't stop my body from reacting to her. But I told myself that my body wasn't in charge here, I was. Like every other 17-year-old male who's ever told himself that, I would soon prove that this wasn't true at all.
When she gasped awake, I was immediately on alert.
But she started crying, and I felt my failures as a husband flood back into my consciousness. She explained that she was upset because she'd wanted her dream to be real, before throwing herself onto me and pressing her needy mouth against mine.
I'd pushed her away again, regret filling me instantly. She begged and I begged right back.
"I can't, Bella. I can't." I just needed the ache in my chest to go away, and then it would be easier to rebuff her. Well, and I supposed it would be easier to if my body wasn't so blatantly betraying my wishes. My chest wasn't the only place aching for her.
But she breathed out "Please" and I felt lost, just letting myself kiss her back, just for a few moments. I knew it was going against my plan to keep from teasing her, but I couldn't stop.
I finally forced myself away by picturing her bruised skin, and the grimace she'd worn when she saw herself in the mirror. I couldn't handle that again.
"I just can't...Bella, seeing those bruises, the way I marked you...I just can't hurt you that way again."
She stopped crying then, but the hurt in her eyes was worse than her tears. She turned, still sitting up in the bed, to face away from me, and sighed.
Her resignation cemented the feelings in me; failure, remorse, guilt, and predominantly inadequacy. I couldn't hurt her again, but I also couldn't help but remember that I'd said those words to her before and had obviously been unable to keep my promises.
I'd promised to keep her safe before James interrupted our baseball game.
After, at the hospital, I'd promised to stay with her as long as it made her happy, and then I went and left her in the care of adolescent werewolves. That promise was worse because I'd broken it so wholly as to destroy her trust in me.
I'd promised to keep her safe from Victoria and then she was nearly killed again.
I'd promised, though not out loud perhaps, that I would love her enough to protect her from heartbreak, but her anguish over Jacob Black's departure had denied me that one.
In fact, it seemed the only promise I'd made and kept was the one to 'try.'
I was a deplorable creature. Truly. A thousand promises and the only one I'd kept was the one that was at least half about my pleasure over all else.
"Jacob," she whispered. The place where my heart had once beat ached fiercely. Her voice was anguished. Was she realizing her mistake now? That would be exactly what I deserved. "It was Jacob." Her voice was still soft.
She raised her head suddenly, addressing me now. "Edward. It was Jacob. Not you." There was a new fire in her eyes that hadn't been there moments ago. I still didn't know what she meant.
"The bruises." She pointed to her upper arms where the bruises had been wrapped around in a clear grip. "It was Jacob. At the wedding. It wasn't you."
"Bella, don't. Please. It's bad enough that I hurt you, but you making excuses for me is almost worse."
"No, Edward, listen. Remember. Jacob. He asked about the honeymoon, and when I told him I could have my honeymoon like any other bride, he was so angry, and he grabbed me, here," she pointed to her arms again. "It hurt. I don't know how I didn't remember it until now. It wasn't you."
And I remembered well. Jacob hadn't said anything that wasn't true. He'd called it a sick joke, the very idea that we would make love, and it would have been, if it hadn't also been entirely serious. I'd stepped in, hearing the way his thoughts were screaming with anger, but I'd also been afraid to get too close in case it triggered him to phase with Bella still in his grasp. I should have known better than to trust a young werewolf with my wife.
When he left, I'd been so focused on thoughts about the treaty, and on trying not to let it all ruin Bella's night, that it had been nearly pushed out of my mind by the time we got to Isle Esme.
Suddenly I felt lighter, knowing I hadn't done as much damage as I thought. As though she sensed my change in mood, she placed a hand against my chest.
"You didn't hurt me, Edward. I knew I would have remembered feeling pain. I knew it. God, Edward, please. Please," she implored. "This changes everything, and you know it."
She was right, as usual. With that thought, my control entirely disappeared.
"Bella. We still have to be careful. But god, I want you so much, Bella." I kissed her firmly. "So much."
"Oh, thank god," she mumbled before kissing me fully and pressing her body back against mine.
As I ran my hands down her sides, I was nearly overcome with elation at the sweet revenge I was about to exact. Without any warning at all, I shredded the black negligee Bella wore before she could even blink. The silly thing tortured me first. It deserved it.
Spurred on perhaps by my small show of aggression, Bella moaned into my mouth and arched her back.
I knew I would have to be particularly cautious now. The last few days had built into some combination of extended foreplay and pure torture. She really was like a drug for me, as I had once described to her; denying myself made this experience sweeter, but it had also made me impatient.
I forced myself to draw it out, teasing her. I played my fingers across every inch of skin I could reach without separating our mouths. I kissed down her neck to her collarbone, her ear, her shoulder. I wrapped my hands carefully to grip her hips as I pushed her knees apart with my own.
Then softly, I let my hand slip between her legs, feeling exactly how the last few days had built a sense of intense need in her too. She writhed and groaned, pressing herself closer to my hand.
I watched her face and noted every bodily twitch, trying to respond to her. I pushed my fingers inside her, testing her reactions carefully, moderating the pressure I used. When she was steadily panting and lifting her hips against me, I knew she was getting close. Finally, I curled my fingers inside her and suddenly felt the muscles of her body snap to attention as she spasmed around my hand. Her heart skipped one beat and her face twisted almost like she was in pain before relaxing completely into a softly satisfied smile.
I'd never felt so accomplished in my existence. Conquering my bloodlust and learning to be around humans, getting my first undergrad degree, going to med school, overcoming my renewed bloodlust when I met Bella, convincing her to marry me. None of it was as wonderful a feeling as bringing my wife to orgasm. I positively thrilled at the thought.
"Edward, I just want you to know, you have absolutely every right to look as smug as you do right now. That...you...god!" I knew exactly what she meant and I grinned at her in triumph.
Her heart had slowed slightly, not quite back to rest, but enough, evidently. She lifted herself up, wrapping her arms around my neck and pushing my back against the bed now. She began to drop kisses down my neck, warm and soft and feather-light, though probably not to her. She tasted my collarbone, nipping and sucking a path onto my chest and then inching toward my bellybutton.
Though my body had been well aware of her for some time now, it seemed that every inch closer she got to my abdomen, I felt harder and more desperate for her. When her mouth reached the edge of the pyjama pants I wore, she lifted herself up slightly and pulled them down my legs in one fluid movement.
I knew it was irrational, but I couldn't help the tiny moment of self-consciousness I felt as she appraised me, but as always, Bella anticipated what I was thinking and took a pre-emptive strike.
"God, Edward, you're so perfect. I mean, I know, I know, you say it's camouflage, but it's not working to camouflage you at all. You're clearly too perfect, but yet here we are, with you laid out for me."
All I could manage was an appreciative "mmm."
Her eyebrows pulled together for just a moment as she began to speak.
"Edward, I want to try something, but I need you to do me a few favours first."
"Anything, love. You know that."
"Well, first," she grasped my left wrist in her small hands and pushed it towards my head. "These, need to go up here." With her hand on top of mine, guiding, she wrapped my fingers around the headboard. She followed suit with my right hand. "Keep them there. I don't care what you have to do, just keep them there." I liked this more assertive Bella. She was clearly feeling more comfortable, and for that I was equally grateful and nervous.
"Second, I need you to not talk me out of this." I shook my head in confusion, feeling a little bewildered since I didn't even know what she was up to yet. "Promise me?"
"Well," I paused, considering. I'd already given in to the desire for her. I wondered what she could do now that she thought would make me waver, but I also knew there were still plenty of limits to our relationship that I couldn't let slip. "I suppose that depends, love. I can't guarantee anything if I don't know what you're planning."
She stopped to think, perhaps forming phrases in her head first. "I want to taste you. Please."
I twitched. Like, there. I didn't breathe, and neither did she, watching my reaction.
"Bella, you don't have to-"
"Edward, I want to. Please don't tell me I don't have to because I know that. I know I wouldn't ever have to because you'd be too much of a gentleman to ask. But I'm new to this stuff too. I mean," she paused and her face turned impossibly red. "I'm curious, I guess." She pressed her palms against her eyelids, as if blocking me from her sight would ease her embarrassment.
My heart jumped at the feeling of this moment between us. And as terrified as I was to let her do this, I understood what she meant. We were exploring new terrain together, and for most teenagers, this would be a natural step.
Really, it seemed she had already considered the most dangerous part of this; if I could keep my hands to myself, it would probably be ok. I took a shaky breath and formed my response cautiously. "Ok."
She sighed heavily in relief.
"But Bella, seriously, if I say stop—"
"I'll stop immediately. A little faith, Edward. You're my husband, and I get it. I get you."
"Of course you do, sorry. I'm just..." Nervous? Wrong word. Apprehensive? Not strong enough. Fucking terrified? Yep. "A little scared, I guess."
"Remember what I said the other day, Edward? New territory is always scary, human vampire status notwithstanding." She paused, before her eyes took on a devilish twinkle. Breathily, she began. "Now, close your eye for me. Right now."
I humoured her, still a little hesitant about this whole thing, but unwilling to deny her.
"Edward, keep them closed, but I want you to think about me. Tell me what I looked like coming towards you in my wedding dress. Think about the look on my face. What did I look like?"
My impeccable memory still couldn't do her justice, and I knew it, but I tried to describe.
"You were...radiant. You were flushing just a little and," I paused as I felt her lean in and kiss my hipbone.
"And?" she murmured against my skin.
"And I couldn't believe," her lips moved an inch to the right, then up, then down, tracing a path closer and closer. It was all I could do to find the words I did. "That you were actually there for me. That you could possib-" She tentatively kissed the head of me and I hissed involuntarily. Then I felt her tongue snake out and lick the underside from base to tip before she moved back slightly.
I felt her breath warm over me as she spoke. "Keep talking, Edward."
Oh god. Vixen. Seductress. Wicked creature. My fucking wife. I was the luckiest bastard to ever walk the earth.
"Uh...That you could possibly be mine." She slowly lowered her mouth and I felt her surround just the tip of me. "I was reminded of just how lucky I've been." She began to move her mouth up and down around me, slowly. Her mouth was fire-hot and wet and slick and velvet and soft and the best thing in the world except maybe making love to her.
"You changed everything, Bella. Everything." She moaned then, and the vibrations seemed to shoot through my whole body. I felt the wood of the bed frame splinter and give way under my fingertips.
"Look at me now, Edward," she said, kissing up the side of my shaft. I didn't feel like I could open my eyes. The sensation was already so much to concentrate on. Just keeping my fingers dug deep into the broken wood of the headboard was enough. But I knew it was what she wanted, so I opened my eyes, still training them on the ceiling.
One thing at a time.
Of course, the problem was that now that my eyes were open, I had to actually look at her.
I think she was waiting for me. Her mouth clearly still hovered near me, but she wasn't actually touching me.
I looked down at her.
Just in time to see her take me back into her mouth fully.
So fucking hot. And that 'bedroom eyes' thing, staring right at me, all doe- eyed and beautiful and sweet. Christ.
"God, Bella. Shit. Ungh. I'm sorry."
"Mmm, I love it when you get all 21st century with the language." She was planting wet kisses on me, pulsing her tongue out occasionally to taste me.
"What are you...oh god...uh, talking about?" My eyes rolled back in my head.
"I like hearing you lose control. You never swear."
"Sorry."
"Edward," she admonished, clearly wanting my full attention. I looked back to her. She licked me again. "It's fucking hot."
"Oh fuck, Bella. Please. I can't...Shit. Please, please," I implored. "Please, come up here and make love to me."
She moaned once, her mouth still against my head so I felt the vibrations course through me. Slowly, she made her way up my body, pressing wet, sucking kisses onto my skin. She was so warm. Each kiss seemed to bloom outward from the heat of her.
I vividly remembered that first day in the meadow when she'd touched, really touched my skin, tracing circles on my forearm. I knew now that I'd been right to think that her touch was the only heaven I would ever need. What's so great about clouds and harps and angels? They had nothing on Bella.
When she'd made it back up to kiss my face, she touched her hands tentatively to my arms, sliding her fingers up to pull apart my grasp on the headboard. I'm not sure she noticed that it was broken. I had to concentrate to release my grip without doing something too rash.
With agonizing slowness, I brought my hands back down, one at a time to palm her sides. A shiver ran through her as I touched her skin again. She was so soft, and I could swear every time I touched her, it felt like gentle sparks between us, a low hum of electricity.
She sat back up a little bit, still holding my hands, and now looking down on me from above.
"Edward, I love you so much. Thank you."
"I deserve no thanks for anything, love. It's all you. I love you with every part of me."
She smirked. "Well, I'm certainly happiest that you love me with this part," she said as she drew our hands up to tap my forehead. "And with this part," she lowered our hands to feather across my left chest where my heart once beat. "And don't you dare say anything about it, just because it doesn't beat anymore." I smiled back at her.
"But right now," she said breathily. "There's one very particular part of you that…well, I think it loves me, but I want to see just how much it loves me." The quirked smile she gave me was perhaps the naughtiest look I'd ever seen on her beautiful face. If I didn't know better, in that moment I could have sworn that she was the vampire, a stunning succubus, and I was her enthusiastic prey.
I rolled us over, pinning her to the bed. "You're going to be the death of me, I swear it. God, I love you."
"I love you too," she paused. She looked down to where my hips pressed against hers. "Edward, I want you to watch my face, ok? Don't take your eyes off mine until I say, ok?"
I nodded, and I might have whimpered a little at the thought.
She reached down and I felt her guiding me to where I needed to be. I pushed forward slowly, feeling the intense warmth begin to surround me. I'd felt, through the thoughts of countless others, that sex was largely about friction, pressure. But being with Bella, while I was certainly aware of the silky tight grip around me, the strongest sensation was the heat, like flames except I never, ever wanted them to go away.
"Jesus, Bella," I stared into her eyes, the dark brown colour like liquid velvet, as I slowly formed a rhythm, thrusting gently against her. She smouldered; for all she had complained about my ability to dazzle her, I was certain at that moment that I was the one under her spell.
"God, Edward. You're so…ungh, I love you." She wrapped her leg higher on my body, against my waist, and I grasped the underside of her knee, caressing the soft skin with my fingertips as I hitched her leg higher. Her moaning grew near incoherent, and I was utterly ecstatic. Nothing had ever felt so good. Not even human blood.
"More, Edward. Faster. It's ok. Please," Bella cried. "Edward, look down now, shit. You've got to see us like this."
I lowered my eyes, curling slightly to see where my body pushed inside of hers. My first thought was that it was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen, her body opened to me like that, taking pleasure from something that felt ubelievably good to me too.
My second thought was how guilty I should feel about my first thought. What if it was hurting her, to stretch her like that? It was erotic and scary and wonderful to watch, and I suddenly felt I had to voice some of that to her.
"Fuck. Bella, you're so beautiful. Everywhere. Mmm, Am I hurting—"
"It feels so good. Oh my god, Edward, I'm right there, please. More."
"Christ, oh Bella." I sped up just slightly before I began to feel her muscles contract and pulse around me. It was soft and fluttering and just enough that I finally let a little of my control slip, and I came in a flash of stars inside my eyelids, my body stilling above her.
I rolled us to our sides as she came down. She wrapped herself around me, curling up as her breath evened.
"Thank you Edward. Thank you for finding it in you to trust us. I know how hard it is for you, and you have to know that it means the world to me."
"Thank you for pushing me. You make me strong. You're everything. I meant it when I told you that you were my life. And now…god, my wife, my mate. Everything, Bella. You're everything."
****
Too much cheese there at the end?
So, the bruises theory isn't actually in SM's canon per se, but I think it fits in, and it always seemed like the missing loose end for me. Do you think it's a great idea? Or an awful one? Am I out of my mind and ruining everything by putting something like that into an otherwise canon story? Tell me in a review! I adore each and every review I get. Seriously, they mean the world to me.
If you liked this, check out my other fics, and please, please, please let me know what you think whether you love it or hate it.