Title: Two Sides of the Same
Category: Books » Twilight
Author: MadamThang
Language: English, Rating: Rated: M
Genre: Romance/General
Published: 12-09-09, Updated: 12-09-09
Words: 2,514
A/N: This was my very first attempt at fanfiction. I was quite inspired and tried to be as prosaic as possible. I was also trying my hand at lemons and was so scared! Again - no beta so please forgive errors that I haven't seen (or tell me about them and I'll fix them!). Sidenote: This was the only fanfiction story my husband ever liked...
They were two sides of the same coin, two halves of a whole, yin and yang.
She purred, he growled.
She prowled, he stalked.
She seduced, he conquered.
Each, aware of the other, respected the space between, the border line, the boundary, if you will. They moved symbiotically around one another, occasionally exchanging a knowing look, a fleeting glance, a nod of approval.
They mutually admired one another, recognized a kindred spirit, a shared love of the hunt.
And yet, they consistently remained separated by the invisible membrane which would not allow them to permeate the other's space; would not allow them to take up residence in the other's life, would not let them speak or even touch. They taunted wordlessly, week in and week out, observing, evaluating, circumventing.
Until the day when they spotted each other across the room, out of their standard milieu, out of their masterful comfort zones, thrown together in a mundane business setting. Their individual prowess at manipulating the opposite sex was shelved here amidst the pedestrian concerns of business, where all were bound by propriety and sobriety.
How to speak? How to be the selves they recognized in the presence of the other without letting their professional credentials suffer? He, Edward the powerful, and she, Bella the incisive. Together at last, however impotent, they discussed the finer points of a business transaction in which the mutual fascination with each other was undeniable.
She was pretty, there was no denying that. Her hair was long, and she wore it loose, unlike the other tightly wound females at the table. It begged to be touched, wrapped around a fist, or lazily traced as the tendrils curled possessively down over her breast and under the silk of her blouse.
Her face was precious, girlish even, but with the slightest arch of an eyebrow – fathomless. Long dark eyelashes framed her deep brown eyes, and high cheekbones were dusted with tiny little freckles that often turned peach-hued with a ready blush. Her lips were like those of a doll, perfectly pinked and pouted, fuller than most, yet unadorned with color. A shiny gloss hung there, making every male notice when she smiled, or when they parted even slightly to emit a breath or a sigh. When pursed in concentration or wrapped around the pencil she used for her sparse, intermittent notes, brain power and business acumen walked abruptly from the room.
She was unapologetically shapely. Her waist curved and invited the hand like an expensive mink coat or a fine silk. Her legs were long, rather thin actually, but took on pin-up proportions in the obviously expensive shoes she wore. Her breasts were deliciously round, pert and attentive, and the filmy quality of her blouse showed that she took care in clothing them properly with lace and satin, gently cupping them in a scandalously feminine scrap of a bra.
She was comfortable, confident, and graceful as she moved, so much so that it almost seemed every movement was orchestrated: the way she leaned across to touch something on the table, her leg lifting slightly off the floor, her blouse opening a slight bit to provide a lip-licking peek at her lingerie, the vent up the back of her skirt playfully pulling open to see a generous length of thigh.
(*)*(*)*(*)
He was beautiful and utterly inviting in his day-time habit. His clean-shaven face was in direct contrast to the serious shadow he generated by five o'clock, and the friction of his beard branded women with angrily reddened thighs from his languorous and tantalizing kisses. His tender and sensual mouth looked like it was made for suckling and his lips were impossibly red. His cherubic beauty was interrupted by a prominently masculine jaw which begged the stroke of a fingertip, and a furrowed and heavy brow gave him the seriousness of unrelenting power.
His body was long, lanky, and towered over most. His shoulders were nicely muscled and broad, and his waist tapered invitingly into tailored, close-fitting pants made of the finest wool. His sizeable feet were clad in hand-crafted leather lace-ups, and if his jacket was unbuttoned, a matching belt could be seen below the gloriously tight abdomen.
His body was hard everywhere, dusted with hair that glistened bronze in the sunlight, his head crowned with a bounty of the thickest, silkiest strands. His hands glided through it near constantly, showcasing nimble, exquisite fingers, perfectly groomed and capable of eliciting rapt fascination even at the business table.
He dominated. There was no doubt about that, and his height and obvious comfort with himself and others made all eyes turn to him. His voice was velvet, rubbing over psyches and eliciting fantasies, and his movements masterfully manipulated all in the surrounding environment.
*!*!*!*!*
In this, the real world, they maintained their distance, circling each other still, listening with intent curiosity for the voice of the other, gratified that looks had not been deceiving. They were equals in business as in bars, it seemed, and they felt further synchronized. They gravitated toward one another but resisted, as getting too close in this environment could topple the carefully orchestrated evening ritual they'd developed.
The curiosity, however, remained and burned like a lamp behind his eyes and narrowed hers as she observed him. They appreciated the prowess of the other, acknowledging the night-life compatibility as well as the newly discovered day-time collegiality.
Inevitably, she began to play and he commenced to hunt. In this room, with a smaller selection, they had only each other as equals. They had only each other as rivals. Could they best one another in this world as well? Could they compare notes with a glance in such a small circle of acquaintances? They both deeply appreciated the challenge at hand, but innately understood that the lesser mortals in the room might notice if and when the tension reached its peak. They ultimately refrained.
Lunch was an affair to remember. Naturally, they both possessed impeccable table manners and offered nothing but appropriate and engaging lunch time conversation, but when she laughed, he could not stop his gaze from settling upon her. He was silent for a moment, watching her eyes dance and she acknowledged his attention with a teasing grin.
A short while later over dessert, his mouth lingered a bit too long on his chocolate cheesecake, and he trapped her eyes with his while he drew the fork slowly through his lips. She watched as his tongue swept over his lower lip and then he raised an eyebrow ever so slightly in her direction.
The meeting dragged in the afternoon with lunch causing a sleepy buzz during a lecture on tactics and strategy. Both luxuriated in the sensual feeling brought on by satiety, and they dragged their eyes down each other, allowing for a lingering inspection, a challenging stare. When the lights dimmed for a PowerPoint presentation near the close, their eyes locked with taser-like energy as he ran his hand through his hair and she took her lower lip softly between her teeth.
The meeting adjourned and was deserted rapidly, and preparation for the night's activities began. The game was afoot.
*~!~*~!~*~!~*~!~*
He arrived sharply at nine o'clock, wearing khakis and a black v-neck sweater. He hadn't shaved but had showered and applied scent. He was dressed for comfort and approachability without the sacrifice of his menacing and distinctive masculinity.
She arrived at quarter past nine, wearing fitted black satin pants and a black sleeveless sweater with a mink collar. Her hair was up in an artfully arranged mess and she wore black high-heeled patent leather booties. She was dressed to snare.
They acknowledged one another as always with a mutual glance of appreciation. They were surrounded by their acquaintances, minions of a sort, who were similar but not as proficient at the art of seduction. They were small groups of three, intimate, approachable. It was an unwritten agreement that they were present to gather new flowers and tame wild young stallions, not to untangle the mysteries of the other.
Tonight the timbre of the greeting had changed. His gaze lingered just a bit longer and he took her in while she watched. He'd always catalogued her clothing when she turned to order her first drink, but today, he let her see his appreciative survey.
She, on the other hand, flipped her gaze away almost immediately, disdainfully, to ensure that she conveyed the minimal interest possible. This was, in fact, the very opposite of what her mind and body were telling her to do.
Things began in earnest with dancing. Normally, her group would take the dance floor confidently, owning the space exclusively, showcasing bodies that were primed for fantasy and wish fulfillment. Potentials would crowd them, trying to infiltrate, and then one by one, they would pair off and continue dancing with their chosen ones.
His group would wait to be approached. Someone always braved the trio after a dose of liquid courage, and they would chat and inevitably take the floor, surprising surrounding people with the unexpected delight of beautiful male bodies moving skillfully, sensually, with the unspoken promise of romance in the form of a slow dance.
Secretly they admired one another. She was lithe and graceful, and invariably suggestive. He was sexual, predatory, and occasionally playful. Her group was practiced and skilled and elitist, as was his.
Dances ended and groups reconvened to dissect the possibilities. Tonight, martinis arrived, uninvited at her table. The blond dimpled beauty at his table nodded their way. The dark haired pixie at her table nodded in return.
It appeared, at least for those two that the wait was over. During the next dance, the deal was sealed as dark haired pixie curled herself around blond beauty and his unadulterated lust was rewarded as they left together.
Still, she had one companion, as did he. The night moved forward, conversations buzzed, and each table had two heads huddled together in cool strategizing. Dancing got a little more complicated. Two dancing were easier to infiltrate than three, and she found herself dancing unexpectedly with more than one suitor at a time.
He found that waiting was no longer an option and so he circulated with his proverbial wingman, prowling for the next juicy tidbit of opportunity.
His song came on and she knew he would dance with any available body. She too selected someone for proximity's sake and they locked eyes for a second over their supposed partners. She was unguarded and regretted it instantly. With unanticipated vigor and obvious intention, he bumped into her and his wingman faked a fall into her friend. Both ignored the fill-ins and turned to each other - their obviously better choices - and the spurned dance partners left the floor, trying to hide their shame.
The wingman and remaining friend playfully coupled and left immediately, and she turned toward him completely, solidifying their new status. He moved closer, dancing into her personal space, his height causing him to loom over her.
She felt a rush at his nearness and looked up into his eyes, closer now than ever before. She thought of Christmas, the scent of evergreens and balsam, of crisp winter air and the freedom of still silence.
He looked down at her and felt the warmth of hot chocolate, the comfort of a raging fire, and the quiet embrace of tranquility.
And then there were two.
She felt impossibly desirable and reveled in the feeling that her already undeniable femininity was enhanced just by being close to him. He surrounded her like a lion, lazily swishing his tail, silently and powerfully warning all others that she was now his.
He felt invigorated with her gaze, sparks shooting through his entire body, prickles of energy making his skin tighten, his hands itching to touch her, and when she reached her fingers up to trace his lips, he imprisoned it in his, depriving her of his mouth, lazily kissing each of her fingertips.
"Bella," he said, looking down at her as she allowed herself to be led.
"Edward," she said, surrendering to the undeniable dark promise in his eyes.
He cradled her against him, tucked under his arm as they walked to his car. They didn't speak as they drove, his hand warmly enfolding hers. She let her eyes rest upon him, sliding over the details of his face as he guided them through the night, and at every opportunity, he turned and drank her in. They arrived and he opened her car door, extended his hand, and swept her into the cocoon of his body.
His house was modern, darkly paneled, and smelled of leather and vanilla. The comfort was immediate and complete while they touched, moved, breathed. Their carefully constructed façade of clothes and propriety disappeared.
There was no question about what they were doing. There was no conversation or small talk to ease the tension. They lived for the tension. They rocketed through the stratosphere of tension and let it propel them to touch, kiss, embrace and fall.
He was truly masterful, and she played him like a Stradivarius. Hands fitted to the other, shaping themselves around curves and hardness, exploring softness and darkness. Lips were fire as they ravaged the forest of his body and his tongue was a marauder as it brought her world crashing down around her.
And then there was one.
*#*#*#*#*
He hovered, poised above her, and she writhed, the snake to his charmer, daring him to take her. He touched her thighs, pushing them apart, kneeling between them. He cradled her hips in his hands, lifting her to meet him, curling himself around her, sealing them together, locking their bodies.
She enveloped him, the promise of her body answering any lingering doubts. His suckling mouth, a wish fulfilled. Her pouty pink lips, a haven. His nimble fingers, a catalyst of pleasure. Her rounded breasts, a sensual gift.
They moved together, lost in the world they'd sought but only now found.
He growled, she hissed.
He thrust, she bucked.
They sighed. Together.
Curled in sleep, their bodies connected, she burrowed into him, and his answering embrace solidified the merging of their worlds.
