Welcome to PAD's flashish fic.

Stephenie Meyer owns everything Twilighty.

I just like giving her characters less character.


Watching You 9


I don't think his hands, or mine for that matter, will need to coax the now erect part of his anatomy. A construction engineer would be proud to use his vertical device as a precise measuring instrument.

As he moves to remove his opened leather jacket, I shake my head signaling I want it left on. However, given my level of excitement, my surprisingly nimble fingers are able to negotiate the opening of his oxford shirt buttons with a patient ease.

Once I absorb his mouth-watering, more than half-naked form, I use one French manicured finger on his textbook chest to guide him downward, prostrate against the padded vinyl covering. I now smirk, assessing how perpendicular that part of his anatomy actually is, and although he technically has control over it, he doesn't have control over me.

And it shows. It shows in the uncertainty of his gorgeous green eyes, and in the clenching and unclenching of his nervous hands, and in the circling of his excited tongue moistening his eager lips.

I feel bold, yet bad, and I know I have to reassure him. Still fully clothed, I carefully swing my right leg across his awaiting part, mindful not to touch it , and I straddle his waist and carefully situate myself on top of his Madison Avenue abs.

Clad in jeans myself, if I were to rock against one of his muscled bumps, I might not need his pole to help me vault upward and off into my own oblivion. But seeing as though said pole is already stuck in the upright position and against the bar of my back end, it would just be wrong not to take full advantage of the opportunity for more.

I inch my upper half forward and this time gently kiss Edward, conveying that I care not to hurt him and that this can be civil as well as meaningful. I also sweetly run my lips over his five o'clock remains, which are remaining even more because it's now after ten.

His whiskers, struggling to make their presence known, feel good abrading themselves against me, and his lips are pleasantly soft and not too thick or thin. Goldilocks would be pleased—pleased with more than just his lips.

I work my way down his neck, brushing my nose against it while giving slight kisses. When I reach his chest—oh, that fine chest—I push open his shirt and suck one nipple and then the other as I curl my tongue and bite gingerly at his provoked flesh.

"Bella."

He says it as if he's struggling for air, struggling for sanity, or just plain struggling.

As I move over one can of his six-pack, I feather slight nail-brushings over the contours of his stomach. He shudders, squirms, wiggles, and writhes.

Ooh, I'll have to remember this for later—Edward's extremely ticklish.

My tongue finds his innie, and I can't resist. I have to lick. Every part I've tasted so far has been so good. And this part is no exception. As I dip my tip into his inkwell, he doesn't disappoint.

"Oh God, please stop teasing me!"

That's what I wanted to hear—I have him where I want him.

I purposely slide my covered crotch backward and over his anxious cock. Immediately his hands find their way to my waist to hold me there. His eyes are squeezed shut, and he looks like he's in pain. But he's not; he's trying to hang on, hang on to any thread of composure.

He loosens his grip, letting me know I can continue, and so I do. Over his thighs and to his knees, I'm now resting just below them.

Positioning myself, I lean forward placing my hands atop his quads. I lick my lips and pull the small container of Binaca out of my jacket pocket. His eyes go wide as I pull off the cap and spray two shots into my mouth.

I just have to say the words.

"You know you want it, and I know mine tastes better…so get ready for what you've been waiting for.


A/N:

Touché, Bella, or is it check?

How do you think Edward's going to react?

Review me your thoughts.


Thank you to my beta, Chayasara, for accepting not only my characters' flaws but mine as well.


Thank you for reading.

PAD