LOOKS BAD ON PAPER CHAPTER 10 - NOT YOUR AVERAGE LEMON

A/N it's been a while. Sorry for that. Next few chapters will probably update more regularly. Where were we? Bella was going home with Edward. He was going to be a gentleman (but none of you wanted that to happen, heh).

*.*.*

What can I do? - A

I sighed in relief as I saw Alice's response to my 'S.O.S.' text light up my phone screen. I was freaking out a little, and Alice was my lifeline. It was rather difficult to discreetly text her back, however, as I was currently sitting right next to Edward, in his car, on our way to his place, to do ohmygod what am I doing? I clearly needed Best Friend Guidance, and I tried to type a quick message that conveyed my distress.

Freaking out. W chef in car, to his place. Also - no clean panties. What do I do? -B

Edward glanced my way, and it was painfully obvious that he'd seen me text, but he said nothing. I was making this car ride extraordinarily uncomfortable. I was sure he would have said something, started a friendly conversation, but I was so focused on questioning my own actions - would I sleep with him? Should I? Was I making the right decision? Was I going crazy? I just kept fidgeting and staring out the window, sitting in the comfortable Volvo seat as if it was a bed of nails.

He just seemed so confident - a far cry from the almost shy man who introduced me to his daughter earlier tonight - as if he had all the answers in the world, and knew exactly what he wanted.

Maybe that was the problem, and I was just the immature twenty-year-old who was playing a game I didn't know the rules to.

I let out a sigh.

"Are you all right, Bella?" His voice interrupted my thoughts and I startled; trying to think of something sensible to respond, but he continued, "Should I take you home? You don't seem at ease, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

Sure, just add gentlemanly and sweet to the list of good things about this man. "Sorry, I know I'm acting weird. I'm too caught up in my own thoughts. I'm not … used to this, you know? I don't really know what I'm doing, or if it's what I should be doing and… Ugh. I'm just driving myself insane," I trailed off. Ah, if only I had two separate corporal identities hashing out my thoughts in my head like that Fifty Shades nimwit, maybe I'd get somewhere.

I could see the corner of his mouth lift up in a half-smile. "Well, there's nothing wrong with thinking, unless it's driving you mad. Maybe you should go with what you feel if that helps?"

Hmmm, analyzing my feelings. No, wait, not analyzing, just feeling. I felt a whole lot of wanting to bury my hands in his hair and finding out what our bodies would feel like when pressed together naked.

And was it hot in this car?

My phone buzzed with Alice's reply and I took advantage of the distraction to cool myself down a bit.

Don't think just feel and you know what you want. See you at the corner of Olive & 7th hon! - A

Well, that's interesting, that's pretty much what Edward just said and - huh, what?

I looked out the window and found that we were indeed driving down Olive Way and that we'd just passed 6th Ave. Sure enough, at the next corner, I could make out the shape of my tiny but immensely colorful best friend waiting at the traffic light. She was hard to miss; she'd dyed her hair in streaks of purple last week, and she was wearing a bright yellow sundress, sticking out from the mostly gray-clad crowd like a sore thumb. But in a good way. Fuck, I suck at similes. No, metaphors. Analogies? Argh! Why the hell was I an English Lit student again? Clearly they should've kicked me out long ago.

"Stop the car!" I shouted, startling Edward. He dutifully parked his car on the side of the road and I jumped out. I started to run toward Alice as I realized I'd been stuck in my own head since he asked if I wanted to leave, and this… running… was probably sending the wrong message.

"Um, wait, Edward? I'll be right back, okay? Promise."

The poor man must be confused as hell, I thought as I made my way to hug my tiny pixie friend.

"OK, Bells. Here you go," she said, handing me a purse that had once been hers, and had long since made its way to my closet. "Toothbrush, clean underwear for tomorrow, sexy underwear for tonight if you're into that sort of thing. Although apparently you are because I took this from your own drawer, but, whatever. Hairbrush, razor, shaving cream, and I took the liberty of putting your pill strip in there as well. Will that do?"

I wanted to ask how the hell she got into my apartment, packed me a bag and made her way across town in such a short time. Or how she knew where to meet us. Or how she knew… whatever, I decided. Alice was one of a kind. I thanked her profusely, promising her a spa trip, and ran back, bag in hand, to where the silver Volvo stood waiting, passenger door still opened and rudely blocking half of the sidewalk.

Edward raised a brow at me as I slid into my seat, silently asking me what that was all about. I decided against lengthy explanations of inner thoughts and magic Alice. "Well? Chop, chop, Mr. Cullen. Time's a-wastin', sugah."

If anything, his eyebrow climbed even higher. "You just went from faux-British to faux-southern in the span of six words. I'd be impressed if your accent skills didn't suck so much."

This was more like our easy banter again, and I felt infinitely more relaxed.

"I will accept your insult only when you've proven yourself to be better at it," I replied with a fake air of arrogance, because I was very much aware that acting was not one of my better skills, and I was even worse at trying on accents.

He cleared his throat, and suddenly started in a perfect cockney accent, "I'll have to go up the apples and pears for a spot of Rosie Lee with the troubles and strife and think about it. Afterward, I'll have to head on down the frog and toad to the rub-a-dub-dub for some wind and sails."

"Huh," I replied. "While admittedly impressive, I must wonder: Couldn't you, at least, pick a sexier accent?"

He chuckled. "Well dang, sugah, I'm fresh outta those," he drawled, and I half expected a cowboy hat and chaps to appear out of thin air.

"Or vould you laik to haff me tolk laik all zeh Russian bad guys from zeh movies? I wotch a lot of bad movie. I tolk laik Russian bad guy. Ish very sexy yes?"

I shook my head, amused, and curious as to what he'd come up with next.

"Ou peut-être tu ne veux pas un accent erotique, mais tu veux simplement écouter une langue erotique. Et naturellement, je te servirai, ma chèrie."

My eyes just about popped out of my skull at that. "Holy shitballs, where did you… how? What?"

He laughed heartily at my speechlessness. "You're not the only one with hidden skills, Cookie. I can do other things than cook, you know."

He smirked cockily, all his confidence and then some present. I decided to let him know overthinking Bella was currently absent, and possibly stupid. Stupidly confident Bella had taken over.

I leaned over to his side of the car, brought my lips to his ear, and mentally found my most sultry voice. "I'm counting on it, handsome," I purred.

And then, he almost hit a light post as his body tensed and the car swerved too close to the sidewalk.

"Fuck, Bella, you're driving me crazy. But let's continue this conversation when we're not in a moving vehicle, okay?"

I laughed. Somehow, our silly conversations seemed to be the cure for my incessant over-thinking. I felt lighter as if it was the most natural thing in the world to go home with this wonderful man who couldn't seem to stop making me laugh.

Interestingly, as my confidence started to grow, his seemed to disappear. He started fidgeting, nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he parked the car in front of an apartment complex.

"Um, so, this is where I live. Um. Shall we?"

I had to grin at that; clearly, what had made me nervous just ten minutes ago, was now hitting Edward full force. It seemed as if Edward could be funny, flirty and confident as long as it was a casual situation. But he kind of sucked at flirting with me, he'd been a blubbering mess introducing me to Rose, and now this - yeah, my guess was that if things got important enough, that was when Edward's insecurities showed. It was adorable, but I realized we really wouldn't get anywhere if we were both channeling our insecurities, so I'd have to put on a show and just go for it.

All right then.

I could do this.

"Hey," I said softly, and touched his arm in the age-old cliché-because-it-works gesture, "want a distraction?"

"What?" He asked, confused.

"Earlier, I was overthinking. Brooding. Whatever. I got out of it because you showed me your amazing and ridiculous accent skills. Now, it appears, you're lost in thoughts, and unless that's because you've changed your mind, I'd say you're probably nervous. So I'm offering a distraction before we go inside. Not sure what yet, though. I'll improvise. So?"

He blinked a few times, and I realized I'd said all that at record speed and not like a normal person.

"You never say what I expect. I like it. While I'm sufficiently distracted by your offer of distraction, I'm too curious about your improv skills to decline your offer, so bring it on, Miss Swan."

I probably should have thought about this more.

Seriously, was my entire life made up of instances of 'should have thought more' and 'should've stopped thinking'? How can I ever use just the right amount of thi-

Right. Focusing on other things.

I cleared my throat and went with the age-old tactic of blurting out the first thing that popped up. "Andra moi ennepe, Mousa, polutropon hos mala polla."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Was that English?"

"Nope. It's ancient Greek. First line of the Odyssey. I thought about it because it's like the only thing I remember from the Greek classes I took, and yet I have to assist these AP kids with their Greek at my other job. You'd laugh your ass off if you could see me improvise. They ask for help with sentences that don't make any sense to me, and I'm like, 'so, what do you think is the verb here? And do you think that's an eh… accusative?' I'm hilariously bad at it, honestly."

"I doubt that," he replied, looking serious. "So what does it mean?"

"The Greek thing?"

"Yeah."

"Um. You know how you sometimes know things by heart but you don't really know what it means?"

"Not really."

"Oh. Well, this is like that. Gimme a second to jog my memory. Ummm.. It's something like, 'Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns, driven time and again off course, once he had plundered the hallowed heights of Troy.' Except you need a few more lines of the original Greek to get to that point, but I didn't want to bore you with that. I had a nasty Greek teacher who made us all recite the first ten lines by heart, and she'd always insinuate we sucked as she talked about how the ancient Greek storytellers knew the entire damn Odyssey by heart."

"Huh. This is a very random topic."

"I know, right? But isn't whatever you were worrying about long gone now? And look, we made it to what I assume is your door in the meantime. That, or you just led us to some neighbor's place."

He chuckled. "Yeah, you're right, and don't worry, this is my place. Shall we, milady?"

Edward had changed his voice to Mr. Darcy … sort of British for the last bit, so I curtseyed, holding up my imaginary dress. "Why yes, kind sir, please do proceed," I said, cringing as I realized just how horrible my British accent was.

With an overly grand gesture, he opened the door to his apartment, and I only had a split second to think about my expectations of his place. Would I walk into the ultimate bachelor's pad, all sleek and gray and modern, filled with furniture with sharp edges I could walk into?

However, as we walked on, I was met with a wall in bright yellow and another one in a bright lime green. Kind of horrifying and cheerful at the same time. The living room seemed to have a color scheme that was eclecticism at its best, or worst, or at least the most extreme. Even with only a few lamps on, it was clear the entire room was very, very colorful, and it threw me for a loop for a bit.

"Um, do you… would you like a tour? Or um… a drink?"

I guessed the effect of quoting Homer had worn off.

"Later," I said, attempting to use my sultry voice, which was probably about as successful as my British accent. It worked, regardless - confident Edward suddenly returned to the scene, and before I knew it, hands cupped by butt and lifted me up in the air. My arms wrapped around his neck like it was the most natural place in the world to be, and my lips found his as I was pushed against the wall.

"This," he said between kisses, "is the living room."

Still holding me, he walked on, passing through a corridor, as oddly colorful as the living room had been. "This door leads to my bedroom," he said as he nibbled on my neck, "and that concludes tonight's tour, gorgeous."

Edward pushed open the door, revealing a spacious bedroom that was thankfully not as brightly colored as the other spaces I'd seen so far. The walls were taupe, that undefinable color between gray and purple used when no bold choices are dared to be chosen. There was a bookcase filled with some random objects and a handful of photo frames lining the wall opposite the bed. But other than that, the room was incredibly bare, and lacking personality.

Except for one very questionable piece of art hanging right above his bed.

"Wait," I interrupted his kiss, "is that a… piece of… dick art?"

Edward looked confused and followed my gaze to the painting on the wall, which to my eyes couldn't represent anything but a dick frolicking in some meadow. There was grass, there were flowers, and there was a disembodied dick. Nothing else.

"Um. Shit, seriously, that's what you see in that?"

"You mean to tell me you have a painting of a dick above your bed and you didn't know it was a dick? How the hell is that possible?"

"Rosalie painted it for me when she was four years old. It was a Father's Day gift. It's me, in a meadow."

Oh, shit, I just had to go and open my big mouth. "Oh fuck… and here I am insulting your kid's artwork and ruining the mood. Um. Sorry?"

He laughed at me, this warm, hearty laugh that showed me he wasn't as offended as he had a right to be. "Don't worry about it, I kind of see your point now. It's like the arrow in the FedEx logo, you know, once you see it you can't unsee it? Crap, now I'm gonna have to move that particular painting or it's going to bug me every time I go to bed."

He shook his head, amused by my mortification. "Now, where were we?" He asked, and promptly reattached his lips to mine. Wrapped in his arms, his hands cupping my ass, it became easy to ignore the Dick Art.

I tugged on his t-shirt, the universal sign for 'let's take these clothes off', and we broke the kiss. Edward lifted my shirt, exposing the lacy bra I'd thankfully chosen to wear, and struggled a bit to get it over my head - why'd I have to wear the shirt with the tight collar?

It was amazing how nothing was progressing like a romance novel and yet I was still aroused.

"Is that… Daffy Duck?" He asked, incredulous.

I felt my cheeks burn red with embarrassment, as they always did whenever someone brought this up and placed my hand on the offending image to cover it up. "Yeah. Bad decisions, being eighteen, and long stories led to this absolutely horrendous rendering of a cartoon duck permanently inked on my pelvic bone. Can we ignore it?"

"I don't know, can we? It's staring straight at me," he laughed, and I slapped him playfully on the arm.

"Hey, how about you stop being an ass about my lame tattoo and show me what's under your shirt?"

"As you wish, ma'am," he said and bowed, before taking off his shirt in a single motion, much more smoothly than mine had been, revealing his chest, and just... holy smokes fucking eight-pack, is all I'm saying.

"Bella?" He asked, concerned, and I held up a finger, signaling him to give me a minute. Finally, I could close my mouth again and snapped back to reality. "Holy hell Cullen, how do you even have time to work out?"

A cocky smirk graced his face. "I don't, actually, but I do have a job that requires me to stand and walk twelve hours a day, and I carry around a lot of heave produce in bulk. I take it you approve?" He stepped closer to me, and almost involuntarily, my hand reached out to touch his abs. Man, oh man, was this perfection.

I may have purred a little as my hands explored his chest. Edward just looked at me with a silly grin and a raised eyebrow, patiently letting me enact my crazy.

Eventually, I was ready to move on to the rest of his body, and linked my fingers through his belt, intending to open the buckle and get rid of his pants. I stumbled a bit - who knew a man's belt buckled the opposite direction of a woman's? That just makes no sense - and groaned out loud at yet another imperfect moment. Why couldn't I just be smooth, the embodiment of sensual perfection or some shit?

Thankfully, Edward's fingers quickly joined mine to help out, so I focused on my own jeans as I did a mental check - panties were navy and pretty, pubes were shaved recently enough to not be an embarrassing wilderness. With one deep breath, I slid down my pants - getting the skinny jeans stuck on my calves, of course; I had not yet mastered the art of removing skinny jeans without turning them inside out. But I chose not to linger on the fact that I took my pants off like a four-year-old because Edward was now standing in front of me in just his boxer briefs.

*.*.*.*

Now, I'd like to say that the sex we had that night was amazing, world-shattering, orgasmic perfection, but we all know that doesn't happen in my life.

My life is filled with awkward.

Jacob, bless his hairy back, had been uneventful in bed, with a small dick and little imagination. I'd had a small bit of sexual history before that, but, well, let's just say it was a miracle I was still even interested in having sex, with how disappointing my experiences had been.

Anyway.

Edward was big. Really big. And I was a rather petite girl, and I'd never experienced anything quite like his size.

I could have chosen to communicate this with him, to explain my worries, perhaps ask if he wanted to go slow, but it is really, really hard to talk to someone of your fears regarding sex when you're both naked and ready to go. So, I decided I could do this, and no words were needed except 'oh God' and 'yes, more', or things to that effect. And anyway, the next thing I knew he had crawled down my body and put his mouth on me, and I wasn't really able to think straight after that, anyway.

There's something about receiving oral sex that always made me uncomfortable. The sensations of his tongue licking my clit were fucking awesome. But then I made the mistake of looking down, and there's just nothing that looks quite as ridiculous as looking down at your own pussy and seeing the top half of a man's face, nose buried between your folds. His eyes looked up at me, making his forehead scrunched and almost wrinkly, and then I just lost it and started laughing.

"Oh fuck, Edward, I'm sorry, it's not you, honest. Ignore me. Come up here, please?" I gently grabbed his hair and pulled him up for a thorough kiss, trying to make up for my fuck-up. I figured he would ask about my inappropriate laughter, and tried to move on to the main event.

I'd read some romance novels describing the moment of penetration as 'he stretched me to the fullest, a wonderful fit', or some such bullshit, but honestly? The feeling of being stretched inside… I wanted to cry out. It felt like I was losing my virginity a second time, but I really wanted to experience sex with Edward, so I shut my mouth and tried to enjoy the sensations.

It worked, thankfully.

As these things go, my body accommodated his size, and as we moved in unison, I began to love how he felt inside me. He was vocal, groaning and whispering in my ear. He constantly touched me, letting his hands explore my entire body as his lips kissed me everywhere he could reach. He wasn't moving too fast or too rough or too slow. And while the discomfort his size brought me meant I probably wouldn't be able to come, I didn't mind. For lack of better words, we just fit. Even if he didn't.

Heh.

"Fuck, Bella, you're so tight," he moaned into my ear, and I almost wanted to say, 'Yeah, no shit,' but again, I shut up.

His movements sped up, and I moved in sync with him, lost in the sensations - and then he stopped, and murmured, "I don't want to come quite yet." He slowed down considerably, and I wanted to say, "please come," because I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to take this, but again, I said nothing.

I was at war with myself.

Our bodies connected, his kisses and caresses were heaven, and I knew that if we ever have sex again in the future, no doubt I'd get used to his dimensions. And dear God, how I wanted to keep having sex with him. But right now, I needed it to stop before things started to really chafe, but without just saying 'please stop,' because that would just send the completely wrong message.

Edward sort of solved my problem for me, as he flipped us around, placing me on top. The new position allowed for a slightly different angle, which was a relief for me, and I knew would cause extra stimulation for him.

Of course, with my minimalist exposure to the wonders of sex, I had absolutely no idea how to move, and I felt a little lost as I tried to move my hips forward.

I could have told him I had no idea what I was doing, but - again - I said nothing, and tried to make the best of it.

As I moved on top of him, I thought about what I could say. 'Are you close?' Maybe. 'Are you going to come yet?' Probably wouldn't work.

"Ahhh, slow down baby," he groaned, "I'm going to come if you don't slow down."

Instant problem solver! Okay, time for my sexiest voice. "Yesss… Edward. I want to feel you come," I whispered, adding a little extra sass to my movements to speed things up. He grabbed my hips and thrust upward, matching my speed.

"Fuck, yessss," he grunted, as he pulled me down, filling me even deeper, and I tried my hardest not to flinch. Edward panted, worn out from his orgasm, so I carefully lifted myself off him, holding on to the condom to make sure that didn't go anywhere it didn't need to go, and lay down next to him.

I was going to be so sore tomorrow.

Edward rolled to his side, capturing me in his arms. "You're amazing, Bella. I can't wait to do that again."

I couldn't help myself - I let out a humorless laugh, which got his attention.

"What was that?" He asked, understandably confused.

How was I going to talk my way out of this one? "Um…"

He propped himself up on his elbow and gently cupped my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Please tell me, Bella. I know you didn't come… and I fully intend to make up for that gross oversight next time… but I get the feeling I'm missing something."

"You'rereallybigandithurtmyvaginaokay!" I blurted out in record speed.

I watched his face as he attempted to make sense of my words. I could tell the exact moment he got it: his eyes went wide, and he let out a groan.

"I hurt you?" He asked, in a small voice.

I sighed.

I didn't want him to feel bad at all - he was a very good, attentive lover and it wasn't his fault my anatomy wasn't used to the size of his anatomy, or that I lacked the ability to communicate during sex. Or that I was constantly overthinking, unable to shut my mind up and just enjoy the sensations.

"Hey," I replied, my voice just as soft. I let my finger stroke his face, from his bushy, unruly eyebrows to the sharp line of his jaw, "Don't worry about it, Edward."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "No. That is not acceptable. I.. I wanted it to be as good for you as it was for me, and you're telling me I hurt you. Of course, I'm going to worry about it."

I smiled a sad half-smile, wishing I knew the magic words to turn this conversation in a better direction. "Well, don't blame yourself, okay? It's not like I said anything. And aren't you supposed to enjoy the ego boost of being told you have a big cock?"

Edward let out a humorless chuckle and shook his head. "Not if it hurts you."

"Hey, if it makes you feel better, I'm sure I'll get used to it…" I trailed off suggestively.

He finally granted me with a real, gorgeous smile. "Yeah? Planning a repeat performance, Miss Swan?"

"Many of them," I assured him before capturing his mouth in a slow, languid kiss.

We made out lazily for a while, naked bodies entangled, hands roaming everywhere. I rested my head on his chest, and fell asleep draped over him, my leg thrown over his and my hand resting on his shoulder, as his arm held me in place at my waist.

*.*.*

A/N: okay, that was cringe worthy to write, so I'm sure it can't have been much better to read. I just really wanted something a little more realistic. The first time you have sex with someone isn't always going to be multiple orgasms and absolute perfection and hallelujahs. This doesn't mean Edward is a bad lover (although it does sort of mean Bella needs to learn when to open her mouth). They'll get better with practice, but sex is not going to be a major part of this story. This fits them, I think. Awkwardness, some laughter, saying inappropriate things, bad timing, and lots of confusion in communication. I am very anxious to hear your thoughts.

The cockney slang is from a Tony Hancock (who?) skit that I found online. The French was my own translation of "Or maybe you don't want an erotic accent, but you just want to listen to an erotic language. And naturally, I will serve you, my darling." My French isn't perfect so it's possible I made some mistakes.

Thank you, Fran, for your beta work, and Snowflakelover for prereading.

Tip of the day: check out Words of Love for Meli. The initiative alone warms my heart, and there are already a lot of great stories there. I wrote one, too (a story, that is, not necessarily a great one ;)), which will show up online soon.