AN: heya! jandco does Bella. There is filth in this one…well, there's filth in all of them, but this one has physical filth.
Don't read it if yer a minor, or if yer opposed to filth in general—although if yer reading this story, yer already neither of these things.
For Liz, because she inspires filth.
As always, couldn't do this without wtvoc—literally, I couldn't. she writes Edward.
wtvoc says: yer right. i do Edward.
special author's note: the deadline for the "a very cullen christmas" collab contest is this Sunday, which is also gallantcorkscrew's birthday. also, this one goes out to birdman94, who fascinates wtvoc for some odd reason. he (yes, he, ladies. There are dudes who read our shit!) stalks wtvoc on and has a similar obsession for jandco, but really. can ya blame 'im?
jandco: birdman94, i never ignored you. quit lying to wtvoc. it won't git you in her pants.
wtvoc: that's not true. this could be rob in disguise, j. never forget that. if it is rob… then lying would, indeed, get him in- like a brand new key card at the marriott. which reminds me... we want proof birdman94 is a dude.
j: photographic proof.
and i ain't talkin a square jaw and an adam's apple...
w: ooh, quit turnin' me on.
no, wait.
IF WE GET A PEEN IN OUR BOX, WE'LL BE UPSET.
wait, that came out wrong.
j: dude. don't send pics.
w: true. we require the url to a social networking site that is definitive proof that you are, indeed, a person of male gender who uses emoticons and reads twilight fanfiction.
j: that shit is rare.
w: it so is. wait. i'mma quote wayne's world here: WHAT ARE WE DOING? WE'VE GOT TICKETS TO ALICE COOPER.
ON WITH THE SHOW.
Chapter ihavenoclue
Edward and I didn't say a word to each other as I got into his car and we drove.
If he was so desperate to talk, I wished he'd get on with it already.
When I woke up in his bed alone, my first reaction was to be mad.
How dare he leave me here alone, right?
But as I shimmied down the window and slid out the iron gates and trudged my way back to the wrong side of the tracks, I realized he did me a couple of favors.
One- I didn't want to go to croquet at Rosalie Hale's house, so I got out of that.
Two- he made me realize I could not lose to Rosalie Hale.
I mean, first of all, if I slept with Edward, it wouldn't be just sleeping with Edward—I'd fall harder, and frankly, I can't fall for a guy who- well- who does things like play croquet at Rosalie Hale's house.
He could be sweet, he was definitely confused about something, he was beautiful and he could play piano and he liked Tom Waits…but still. He was pretty much the anti-Bella in every other way.
We'd never make it, anyway.
It's just…when I was sitting in his car, right next to him, I wanted to kiss him. So this friend thing might not work either.
Finally, the silence was too much and I just had to say something.
"That's pretty sweet croquet attire," I said, pulling at the starched white collar peeking out from his blue sweater.
"I know," he grinned.
"Well, did you win, or what?" I asked.
"First off, I didn't stay long enough to even play. Secondly, I never actually play, anyway- soccer is the only sport I put physical effort in to. Thirdly, no one actually wins. They pretend they're not drunk off of the breakfast cocktails and gossip about whoever turns their back for a moment while holding on to croquet mallets."
"You run with a really genuine crowd," I remarked flatly.
"Well. I can't say I'm not one of them," he said stiffly.
I wanted to protest that, but I knew he was probably right.
Reason number three not to sleep with Edward.
And he just handed it over…why didn't Edward want to sleep with me?
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To the one place where all of our pivotal, unguarded moments seem to happen," he said.
" I'm not going to sleep with you ," I said, more to convince myself than him.
"I didn't say I was taking you under the Academy bleachers…and I'm not going to try," he said. "You know, you have a one-track mind. Is it always sex with you?"
"Just…take me to wherever we're going and say what you have to say."
Fifteen minutes later, we were in Edward's bed, the covers pulled to our chins, laying stiffly side by side.
"And I have a one track mind? You have to be in bed to have a conversation."
"The bed doesn't represent sex. It's just the one place we clear things up."
"Whatever," I sighed, because I was annoyed. "Just speak now."
Because it did remind me of sex and it wasn't helping my resolve—at all.
"I went to Target today," he said.
"You what?" I asked, amused and confused.
"The damned bullseye…it's like a lure—"
"I know!" I squealed in excitement. "How was it? On your own?"
"Awful. Cheap and bright and awful and there was some militant emo chick just spreading faux hate—"
"Amelia? Right? She's such a big bitch that you kind of have to like her."
"Yeah! That was her name. Anyway, she's fucking mumbling this diatribe that makes absolutely no fucking sense, because she's all emo and angry for no fucking reason, and then she says something that does kind of make sense and—"
"Edward. I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Look. My friends are fucked up. I'm fucked up. I'm a part of their…games and whatnot."
"Are you trying to tell me something?"
"Yes. No. Look. I don't mean to confuse you, or to be all hot and cold with you…"
He trailed off, and I knew he was hesitating…and then I realized he was right.
About this bed.
And I didn't want to have to tell him I wasn't supposed to sleep with him, I didn't want us to think about Rosalie or his fucked up friends and family—I just wanted us to be in this bed where we were us, and all the other shit could fall to the wayside…as long as we always had this bed.
And I knew he was harboring a secret of his own.
And I knew he felt sad or mad or something about it—but I had a secret, too.
So I wouldn't push him for his, and I'd keep mine to myself, because in this bed, things were perfect and I wouldn't let anything fuck that up for me.
I could have that.
I could be satisfied with that.
"Edward…at school and stuff…like, I know I act aloof with you…but it's hard, with those people. I like Jasper a lot, he's cool, but…I don't really trust any of them. Hell, I only trust you when we're in this bed. So, can't we just have this? Like, be friends or whatever…just like this?"
"Are you serious?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows.
"Well, yeah. I mean, whatever at school and stuff, but, I don't have any close friends here…why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because…because I just expected you to be…mad."
I stared up at him and noticed he looked utterly relieved.
"I'm serious," I said.
"So, you wanna be like, secret BFFs?" he asked, a patronizing smile spreading across his face.
"Forget it," I said, kicking the covers off. "I shouldn't have thought that you'd understand. Just—forget I said anything."
"Wait," he said, grabbing my arm. "I like it."
"You do?" I asked over my shoulder.
"Sure. I'm all about anything underhanded and shady. But if we're going to be BFFs, I want second base rights. It's my bed, after all."
Okay, it was only feeling up…I had willpower…I'd be able to stop…
And besides, no one would ever know.
And besides, I really wanted him to kiss me some more.
And besides, it was pointless to try to say no. I was already a goner.
"Second base? What are you, twelve?"
"We could make it third."
I'd have no willpower left at third.
"No. Second works."
"We'll see."
"I suppose we will."
He gave a sharp yank on the back of my shirt; I yelped a giggle and was flat on my back.
We only made it to first that afternoon.
We kissed…a lot.
The odd part was we talked even more.
Emmett picked me up for school on Monday, and I was in a jovial mood, the Bone Thugs N Harmony we bumped to on the way there only made me lighter.
"So, shorty. I take it the drama has passed?" Emmett asked, navigating to school smoothly in his Range Rover.
"I'm good," I said, grinning up.
"Good. Ya know, whatever comes up, I got yer back, though, right?"
"I know it," I said. "And I think…I'm figuring my shit out. Hey Em?"
"Sup?"
"You're close with Rosalie, right?"
"For real. I love that ho."
"Don't be offended, but…why?"
"Because she's a straight-up scandalous trick. I can't get enough of that shit."
I had to laugh.
At least he loved her for what she was.
"And Jasper and Edward, too? They're okay, too," I ventured, because I liked Emmett's perspective on people.
He was blunt and he was honest.
"Pssh. Those kids are the Bel and Biv to my DeVoe. Edward can pull some shady shit, but he's like a pit bull—I mean, once you have his loyalty, it's yours for life, and he'd kill a motherfucker for his friends."
"He would not," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Okay, you're right, he wouldn't. But the loyalty shit is true…you're feeling Edward, huh?"
Actually, more accurately, I was being felt by Edward.
"No…" I said casually. "Just still trying to figure out the good from the bad."
"Lemme know when you do," Emmett said, turning the radio back up.
In the parking lot at school I spotted Edward immediately.
He was leaning against his car, tie not yet tied, loose cuffs and a lazy smile. Jessica Stanley's arm was linked through his and there was what appeared to be an underclassman wiping non-existent spots from Edward's car with a white rag.
Emmett cut the ignition, pointed and laughed.
"What is he doing?" I asked.
"Making the peons buff his car," Emmett smirked, but with admiration.
I rolled my eyes and hopped out of the car.
I will not get jealous.
I will not get jealous.
I chanted over and over in my head—this was what we agreed to.
Normal school activities…this was my idea.
I will not get jealous.
I made my way to Jasper's car, where he was talking to Rosalie.
I'd hold my chin up. I hadn't done anything to prove her right.
"Morning," I greeted to Jasper.
"Ah, good morning Bella," Rosalie chimed. "Shame you had to take a rain check on croquet—"
"I didn't. I just didn't show up. And I won't ever show up."
Jasper cocked his head in consideration of this.
"It's probably best that way," Rosalie whispered loudly to me. "We wouldn't want anyone feeling out of place. Anyway, I trust there's nothing new to report?"
"Nope."
"Well, have a stellar day," she beamed, kissing Jasper on the cheek and strutting off.
"I wasn't aware you were reporting to Rosalie," Jasper said, his eyebrows raised.
"She's psychotic," I offered as a response.
"Fair enough," Jasper conceded.
He opened his vest and pulled out a silver cigarette case from the inner pocket.
He snapped it open with a flick of his thumb and held it out.
"Clove?" he offered.
"I'll share yours," I said.
"Suit yourself," he shrugged, and lit the clove.
He took a long pull then spoke before the exhale.
"I'm concerned for your social welfare, Bella."
"Oh?"
"Well, it was obvious you were, shall we say, a bit blue? The night of your birthday party."
"I hate birthday parties," I shrugged.
Jasper squinted one eye and let the smoke come in smooth wisps from his lips.
"You're a shitty liar, Swan. Pressing ain't my style, so I won't."
"Thank you," I said, grateful for his friendship and cool demeanor in general.
I gave a yank on the wallet chain and Jasper pushed off from his car and escorted me across the parking lot.
We paused at Edward's car.
His hair was still damp and he was grinning at us, while at the same time tying his tie.
"Late night activities?" Jasper asked, looking back and forth between Edward and Jessica. "You're looking rushed this morning."
"Something like that," Edward smirked and he was now working on buttoning his cuff. "I'm exhausted, but it was well worth it."
Jessica grinned like a Cheshire cat at me and leaned in to Edward.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
Jessica was trying to imply she and Edward had been up all night fucking…which couldn't possibly be true, since I was the reason Edward was so late today.
I didn't leave his house until quarter to four this morning.
"Nice," Jasper said, and started to move me forward.
"Hold up bitch, I have something for you," Edward said, reaching in to his open backpack on the trunk.
Jasper held his hand out and Edward thrust a CD case into it.
I leaned over Jasper to look.
Through the clear cover I could see a rewritable disc.
And on it was an autograph.
"To Jasper, Best of Luck—Taylor Hawkins"
"Rare Foo Fighters bootleg," Edward said. "Thought you'd enjoy that."
"Well played, Cullen," Jasper said stiffly, then he leaned down to kiss my cheek and pulled me close to his side. "You and Stanley have a good day. La Bella and I definitely will."
"I'm sure," Edward said dryly.
"You missed a spot, bitch," Jasper said to the poor kid silently buffing Edward's car, then we resumed our walk to the school, pausing for a second when he dropped the CD in the trash.
"That was odd," Jasper mused, his eyes narrowed.
"Isn't that what you two do?"
"Yes. I meant his reaction was odd. La Bella, did you put out for Cullen?"
"No. What kind of girl do you think I am?"
"Any kind…hmmm. I've never seen Edward so nonchalant about a girl he hasn't fucked yet."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"No clue. But I will figure it out."
"Good luck," I sighed.
"I don't need luck, dear. I'm a clever son of a bitch. I'll figure it out."
I tried to hide my grimace—he was probably right.
And the day passed as such.
Edward and I had pointless spots of banter at lunch and in history…but neither of us mentioned a word about our afternoon, or our night…
And what surprised the hell out of me was what a turn-on it was.
Occasionally our eyes would lock as we passed in the hall or at lunch…and I was amazed out how much I was enjoying our "secret".
It went on like that for the next three days and three nights.
I was a buoyant, exhausted ball of constant thrill.
I loved the way he looked at me and saw me, in ways no one in those crowded hallways could see.
I loved that I knew what he smelled like when he woke and that I knew he sucked his lower lip in his sleep.
I loved how one second he was a calculating, condescending asshole, and the next a soft-talking pianist.
I simply loved.
On the fourth night, I slipped in his window, already in my sweats and eager to see him.
He had the lights off, aside from a small reading light near his bed.
There was soft music playing on his stereo, something I didn't recognize.
He was wearing a pair of navy drawstring sweats- nothing else- and was sprawled diagonally on his stomach across his bed.
I watched his smooth, broad back slightly raise and fall with each breath, and my eyes traced every curve of his shoulder blades…maybe I should go.
This could lead to, well. Way past second base.
"Oh. Is tonight no good?" I ventured quietly.
I knew he must be exhausted…I was exhausted…
"No. It's good," he said, tossing his book to the ground.
"What are you reading?"
"Nothing good," he sighed, rather restlessly.
I flopped on my stomach on the bed beside him.
Edward dropped his chin and cocked his head to the side to look at me. There were dark shadows under his eyes made more prominent by the dim lighting, and the easy smile didn't come so easy tonight.
His hair looked black in this light and I couldn't help it. I had to put my fingers in it, so I did.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Yeah…tired," he said, letting me slowly muss his hair.
His eyes closed for a second, and his dark lashes made shadows over his face.
"You can sleep. Sleep," I said, moving to roll off the bed, rather reluctantly.
His eyes opened.
"Don't be fucking stupid, Bella. Stay."
I stayed put.
Edward rolled on to his back then nudged me with his elbow to do the same.
"Look," he said.
I rolled over.
"What am I looking at?" I asked.
"The ceiling," he sighed.
It was an alligator.
Or rather a shadow puppet alligator.
"How the hell are you doing that?" I laughed.
He didn't answer, but there was a blur of shadow on the ceiling, and then a very distinct dog.
"Show me more," I said, thoroughly impressed.
"Mmkay. Lemme think. I haven't done this shit in years…"
Next was a dinosaur—I clapped for that one.
Then a bird.
"Seriously, how the hell to you know how to do this?"
"Eh, I had a creative nanny," he said, rubbing a hand over his face.
"You had a nanny?"
"Are you surprised? Really?"
"No," I said, then the thought of Edward as a child had me mesmerized. "Edward is an odd name for someone our age…why'd they name you Edward?"
"Family name. They were obligated, and I wouldn't call it odd, thank you, I'd call it distinguished. But it is rare now days…I've only ever known one other Edward our age."
"Really? Who is he?"
"He actually just moved away before you came…charming motherfucker, too, but his dumb ass couldn't stay out of trouble. He got kicked out of the Academy and his father moved him to another Godforsaken small town."
"What did he do? To get kicked out?"
"I'll just say he had a thing for acquiring extra credit after class…with most of the female faculty."
"Shut up!"
"You shut up, Valley Girl. Anyway, he got tossed out—just as well, he was an angry son of a bitch who had preferences for cummings and Ducatis, but I liked him alright."
"Do you still talk to him?"
"Not as much…we AIM every once in a while, but he found new trouble in a new town, and instead of kicking him out of school, they sentenced him to Saturday detention. He met some chick in there he's become hopelessly devoted to..."
"He sounds sweet."
"You would think so."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You just…you're always trusting the wrong people."
"That was cryptic."
"Forget it."
It was quiet for a few minutes and Edward's eyes fluttered closed again and that peaceful look fell onto his face…and that warm scent started to drift from him, and the hair at the crown of his head curled and landed any which way it pleased and when he was like this I just couldn't help myself.
I rolled to my side and kissed his ear, because in the past four days, things like that were liberties we'd become comfortable with.
There had yet to be, however, any second base action.
Not because I didn't want it—I did.
It's just- we both always hesitated, danced around it…
He lay still and I let my lips move back and forth lightly across the velvet skin of his earlobe, letting a soft lock of his wayward hair tickle my nose.
Like a fourteen-year-old, I decided abruptly that tonight I was going to second base, dammit.
I don't know if it was the cryptic warning spurring me on, or the fact that he wasn't wearing a shirt and his chest was more beautifully sculpted than I anticipated, or if it was the fact that I was just ready…but suddenly I needed his hands on me.
I quickly sat up to my knees, making his eyes open.
"What the fuck—"
I pulled my sweatshirt over my head before his sentence finished.
Edward quickly got up to his knees we just kind of stared at each other for a few seconds.
My heart pounded and I was glad the room was so dim he wouldn't see the red in my cheeks.
I was glad the stereo played on; hopefully he wouldn't hear my nervous, hard breaths.
I was ready to grab my shirt and jump out of the window when at last one corner of his mouth turned up and he reached one hand out and let his finger graze my left nipple, making me gasp.
His smile spread and he did it again, with another feather-light touch.
"It's good," I breathed, shivering.
"Yeah…I can tell," he said, smirking down at my erect nipples.
Edward leaned in and lightly kissed my lips once, then palmed my tits in both of his hands, making me kind of hiss and whine at the same time.
He hadn't even barely started, and somehow his hands were the best I had ever felt on me.
My back arched, urging him to touch me more and he laughed low and quiet, his thumbs rubbing circles on my nipples.
"God, your tits are amazing," he mused in a gritty tone. "Bella…you know, I haven't felt real tits since ninth grade?"
This made me snap my head up.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. All of Forks Academy is all silicone or saline. Fuck, this is good, though. I miss this."
"But mine are so…small—compared to them," I said, suddenly self-conscious.
How was I supposed to compete with plastic surgery?
I wanted to put my shirt back on. I wanted to be covered—I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, so our chests were pushed together, so he couldn't see me.
I wasn't prepared for the shock of heat between us or for the reaction in my pants.
Second. Fucking. Base.
I took a shaky breath and rested my chin on his strong shoulder.
"Hey…" he whispered, probably knowing I was trying to hide.
So, I blurted out the first thing I could think of.
"When I was ten, I would actually beg my tits to grow. Out loud. I'd actually plead with them."
I expected the rumble of his deep laughter—which would only send me further into embarrassment hell spiral.
Instead, he shocked the hell out of me.
"The first time I jacked off I thought I broke my dick. I blew a load and I thought I busted the inside. No one ever told me that was supposed to happen."
I pressed my lips into his shoulder and the stereo clicked in silence, changing CDs.
This song I recognized.
Drive by The Cars.
I drew a breath and decided to purge more.
"In the second grade, my class was incubating chick eggs and I turned the heat lamp all the way up. I knew I shouldn't…I just did it anyway. They all died and a few kids even cried. No one ever found out it was me. I've never told anyone that."
"The last time I cried I was fifteen and it was because I was listening to Nobody Knows by The Tony Rich Project. I don't know why I cried, it's a shit song. I just did. No one knows that," Edward said.
"When I was a kid I wanted to be a CEO—of anything- because I read Forbes in a doctor's office once, and it listed the highest paid female professionals…and I wanted to make a lot of money, because I wanted to make it up to Renee…because my whole life I could always just tell she resented me…for everything she lost when she chose to keep me."
Edward's arms tightened around my bare waist.
"I drink scotch not only because it's a fucking esteemed drink, but because that smell is the strongest memory I have of my mother. She's a fucking drunk, but no one's ever actually said it quite like that. Still, that's why I drink it."
I squeezed my eyes shut to fight the burn of tears and swallowed hard, preparing to speak the words I've always known but never said aloud.
"I am terrified that no matter what I achieve in life, no matter how hard I work for success or nobility, I'll always just be the taboo black mark on the Hotchkiss name. I will always be the bastard that ruined promising, bright Renee…and I don't want that to define me, Edward," I said, now fighting sobs.
"Bella," he sighed, and pulled me closer, so my legs wrapped around his waist and I put my face into his neck and we were crushed together, topless, nothing between us at all, in the middle of that bed.
I bit my quivering lip and let my nails dig into his back, not succeeding in keeping the tears at bay.
I listened to his even breathing and he didn't move at all.
He stayed very still, just like I needed him to.
He let my tears leak and slide on to his bare neck and shoulder, and he didn't say anything at all.
I let my eyes close and was aware we were rocking slightly in time to The Cars…the most ridiculous, stupid and fitting thing to be playing right now.
Edward started to hum while I tried to stop my unstable breaths.
And eventually they evened out…and like a small child, I fell asleep right there on his shoulder, with his hands splayed strong on my bare back and his low hum in my ear.
Three nights and no mention of my breakdown later, I was sitting beside Edward on his piano bench.
I hadn't regretted telling him the things I did; it wasn't awkward- it was more peaceful, actually. In fact, scarily enough, the only time I was fully at peace was when I could see his face or when I felt his heavy breathing on my neck while we slept.
There was a certain, unspoken understanding between us—except for right now.
Edward roughly positioned my fingers on the keys for the 2,768th time.
"Just play when I tell you to," he said.
"This isn't working," I complained. "This is stupid."
"You're the one who asked to learn," he shrugged.
It was true.
I asked him to teach me piano.
I'd been attempting the simple part of Heart and Soul for forty-five minutes now.
He nodded his head and the second time my fingers plunked on the keys he winced.
"This shit is simple, Bella. I was playing this crap when I was two."
"Well, we're not all superior at everything, Edward," I snapped, letting my palm slam on the keys, sending an echoing thunder throughout the room.
"Don't fuck with the piano."
I did it again.
"Knock it off. Look, just try to—"
"I'm not getting it. I won't get it," I said, crossing my arms across my chest.
"Very mature," he muttered, then used the tip of one finger to shut the lid of the piano with a dense plop. He put one leg over the bench so he straddled it and turned toward me.
"Let me see your hands," he said.
I held out one hand and without touching it he inspected my fingers.
"You have stubby fingers."
"So what? Aren't there all kinds of little kid prodigies and whatnot?"
"Yeah, I was just trying to make you feel better. You just suck."
"Fuck you. Maybe you're just a shitty teacher."
He laughed.
"Bella, I'm not shitty at anything," he said, then stood up.
We were both on edge.
We were both frustrated and testy.
And I knew why.
The second base rule was eating us alive.
It was making us rude and irritable and frustrated.
"Fine…just give up on me," I sulked.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You're acting like a bipolar baby."
"You're acting like an arrogant prick."
"News flash, darling. I am an arrogant prick."
He turned on his bare foot and kicked the door open.
I huffed and went after him, holding the waist band of his soccer shorts I had taken to wearing for pajamas.
"Don't walk away from me," I hissed in the dark hallway.
"Grow the fuck up," he growled over his shoulder.
"Me? That's rich. And lower your voice. We don't want to wake Mommy. This isn't an approved slumber party."
He stopped abruptly, making me crash in to his back.
"The hell—"
But he spun me around so my back was pressed to the wall. On either side of my head he had a palm resting on the wall.
"Don't. Don't push it," he said, his left hand thumping the wall with each word.
All I could see was the exact spot where his thin white short-sleeve met the skin of his bicep.
I'm sure I wasn't meant to, but I liked his frustration.
Something fierce and scary was brewing between us…and I wanted it.
"Don't. Ever. Tell. Me. What. To. Do," I said, lowering my chin and pushing him further.
His eyes narrowed for half a second before he pushed off the wall and continued back down the hallway, to his room.
I stomped after him, not even mad, more just…wanting to be near him.
His shoulders were high and tense, his strides long and powerful….but I could see it wasn't me he was mad at, either. Just our situation.
We made it back to his room where he flipped the light on and dove on to his bed, then mumbled something before putting a pillow over his head.
"I'm leaving if you're going to hide from this," I said, because we both knew what the problem was.
What I was keeping from him and whatever he was keeping from me…it was stopping us.
He didn't move, so I grabbed my jeans from the floor and yanked the soccer shorts down—I'd go home. I couldn't be so close without being so close anymore and I was stupid to think I ever could.
I stepped out of his shorts and gasped when I felt his strong hand shoot out and grab my bare inner thigh.
"What?" I asked, my back to him, his hand squeezing my skin tightly.
"Don't go yet."
I froze and his hand kept squeezing and burning and it was too much—I had to go or I had to have something but before I could stumble forward, his hand moved down to the back of my knee and his palm shoved and I was sitting on the bed.
He looked up at me and his eyes were shadowed and dark and on fire and I wasn't going anywhere.
He leaned up and I leaned down and we crashed together all tongue and lips and wet.
I sank down as he raised up, his tongue flicking my lip, then his open mouth was on mine and somehow I was flat on my back and he was on top of me, heavy and everywhere.
My legs wrapped around his waist, my arms locked around his neck and these low gritty noises from him kept filling my mouth.
There was gasping and panicked, angry spurts of laughter, and groaning and swearing and lips and warm and rough—all surrounding us, spurring us on.
I was careful not to let my hands wander down his back or tangle in his hair—I just I wanted to hold him tightly to me so he wouldn't go anywhere.
His hands tore at the sheets on either side of me, he wasn't touching me with his hands and I couldn't quite tell if he was trying to get away from me or get closer but it didn't matter, I wasn't letting go.
I squeezed my legs tighter around him and lifted my hips and I finally felt him, directly over where I wanted him.
He was thick and hard and hot and I hated all the material between us.
Edward's head jerked up, making me break my grip.
His face was flushed and his lips were swollen and red and I wanted him back—I reached up and grabbed for his face, letting my nails sink in to his sharp jaw as I pulled myself up to kiss him.
He hissed through his teeth but let me kiss him anyway, then he was on his knees.
"Wha…" I uttered, breathless and hot and falling back on the mattress.
He put a tight grip on each of my bent knees and his eyes closed and he kind of shook his head.
"Edward…I don't…please, let's just not stop…just tonight," I said, close to frustrated tears.
His hands were off my knees and he scratched roughly at the back of his neck, a tortured, humorless smile playing on his lips.
"Just tonight…we don't even have to—"
His hands went to the sides of his head, balled in tight, restrained fists.
I inched down the bed with my knees up and my legs spread wide, my white underwear was damp and I wanted to take them off.
His fists went to the insides of my thighs, and he let his knuckles graze the skin there, softly at first, then more insistent, raising higher.
His eyes were closed, but the rest of his face looked prepared for a fight.
Tense and angry, set like stone.
I pensively inched down more, causing his fists to slide up; I needed his hands closer to where I wanted them.
His brow furrowed and he made a deep noise in the back of his throat, his knuckles brushing at the edges of my underwear.
Suddenly, his finger hooked in my underwear and held the damp material away from my skin, but his skin didn't touch mine.
We were both absolutely still, hovering between second and third base.
This was the worst game of pickle ever.
I watched his jaw tighten and his teeth dig into his lower lip, like he was fighting and contemplating his own body.
"Edward," I breathed, trying to urge him on. The torture was too much.
"Bella."
"Now, please…just…"
"If we…if I touch you like this—I won't stop."
"Do it."
"What are you doing to me?" he whispered, but I was sure he didn't expect an answer.
"Edward."
"Bella."
I thrust up without warning, letting myself get his finger wet with me, letting myself feel him.
Immediately, his hand made a fist around my underwear, but he didn't move away, so I thrust up again and again, rubbing myself on his still knuckles.
He didn't have to move.
He could just stay still…just like that, and I would do all the work myself.
I grinded and rocked on his still hand, my nails digging in to my palms, letting the wet burn between my legs grow and spread until all of me was consumed and just on.
"Fuck it," he spat, then finally two fingers slid inside and I smiled and shuddered, letting my butt fall back on the bed.
His eyes had opened and he was staring at the sight of his fingers inside of me- he looked hypnotized or maybe horrified—then the corner of his mouth turned up…
And then Edward Cullen showed me why he has the reputation he does.
His fingers and palm were hot and in every perfect spot at the same time.
"Oh my god," I wheezed in an embarrassing mewl—it's just, I've never felt the way I felt just then.
On the brink of everything and dying to fall over the edge, but knowing it would kill me when it was over…because his hands were just too good to ever give up.
My eyes rolled back and he laughed—now that he was resigned to this, he was smug.
"Give it up, Bella…"
"Unnn—" I responded, my head thrashing wildly from side to side.
"Come on, Bella. Give it up for me."
My legs clamped around his hand, holding him in place and I heard the distinct sound of shifting material.
I couldn't be bothered to open my eyes and look until I heard a growl from him.
He'd untied the drawstring on his sweats, and with his other hand he was stroking his thick length, still working me with his other hand.
His eyes met mine and we didn't smile or sneer, we just stared.
The sight of him, seeing him for the first time made my breathing stop.
"God, Edward…" I moaned, my hips bucking into his hand and it took all of my restraint to keep my eyes open and focused on him.
Edward's head tossed back; his Adam's Apple bobbed with each short, sharp grunt…and now that I couldn't see his eyes, I watched his hand, how he was touching himself.
Long, swift strokes over and over and then his thumb lightly rubbed over the head of his dick…
And I came.
Hard and loud and more intensely than I ever had before.
My legs kicked and my body twisted in the rumpled sheets until I was sweating and exhausted and all of the jerking and heaven had stopped.
I listened to my breathing and let myself feel the giddy lightheadedness and Edward's hand slipped out from me, my underwear snapping back into place.
I sat up to my elbows and all I saw was the thick bronze hair, shiny and matted with sweat.
He had bowed his head and his strokes were coming faster.
I watched the muscles in his stomach jerk and roll; he straightened up on his knees a tiny bit more…
Yes.
He was going to…
He raised his head and looked up at me. His lips parted and he clenched all over.
"Oh shit! Bella—move…"
"Huh?" I mumbled, dazed and high.
I jerked when I felt a smattering of warm wet on my chin and neck.
With the back of my hand I wiped my chin and looked.
Oh.
I looked back up at Edward.
His green eyes were wide and I stared back.
Then his shoulders started to shake and his chest heaved—he was trying not to laugh.
And then I was howling and bursting with wild cackles and giggles.
He let his pent-up laughter rip from his chest and we sat there, relieved and free and satisfied and happy.
Our breakthrough had us giddy and silly, laughing like fools on our bed, our safe little home…and it was then that I knew it for sure.
Someone had to lose.
I was in love.
AN: ah. Ok. Sorry about the mention of Saturday School Edward—we just couldn't help it.
Wtvoc says: I'm not sorry at all. That was fucking funny and golden. Jandco completes me. She just does.
She also makes me totally horny, but what else is new?