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S. Meyer owns twilight

God is a woman

After putting soup and a pill down Alex's throat, a kiss on his forehead and another on his cheek, Edward hugged everyone in the house and walked back to his brother's for the first time in days. The walk seemed better without hunger weighing down his limbs and he even found himself whistling his favorite part of the new piece they had been working on. The music was beautiful and he loved each stanza as if they were his children. But it was his favorite because of the few measures where Isabella dropped to the floor on her back, arched her spine deliciously off the wood into the most beautiful curve before rolling to her stomach and rising, as if pulled by a string ass first, before the rest of her body followed. The first time he saw the routine his fingers fumbled and he swore that when Isabella heard the missed note and peeked at him upside down from in between her thighs that she held the position a second longer than she should have. Dancing makes Isabella bold. She said and did things in the heat of rehearsal that she never would have done at any other time without the endorphins rushing through her bloodstream.

Even now as he entered his brother's flat he flushed, feeling the inevitable stirring between his legs. He couldn't seem to get it out of his head. Maybe the nourishment was allowing him to feel lust again. It was the only conclusion he could come to and it was only a matter of seconds before the screaming erection in his trousers made it difficult to walk.

He checked through the rooms to find them empty. As soon as he knew he was alone, he collapsed onto his small pallet and shoved his hand down his pants, grasping his hard cock in a long-fingered fist. As he started pulling, stroking, fingering the head, he closed his eyes and it wasn't his hand anymore. He reached to the shelf above his bed with his free hand and pulled the black glass mask down and over his face as his pace quickened. It wasn't going to take long for him to come. Images flooded his mind as he moaned unrestrained into the chill dusty air. How his cock would look pushed through the lips of that beautiful mouth that seemed made for fucking. Submissive and shy on her knees while he thrusted deep into her throat, spilling over her tongue...

Yours,
Isabella

All mine.

The things I could do to her if only that were true.

He came sharply in his hand, his eyes squeezing shut with the wave that pulled a gasped curse from his mouth and left him panting into his pillow.

It began to rain in the late afternoon and by darkness there were storms rattling the windows of the house. Rosalie and Emmett came home soaked through to the bone and pulled Edward into a tremendous hug in the doorway. The wind was blowing the downpour straight through to the wall on the other side of the room. They kissed his face, told him they'd missed him and asked him all about Alex. They sat at the table to the soup Edward had ladled into bowls. Everyone at the artist house insisted Edward take a few things home with him because Emmett and Rosalie sent plates to everyone there whenever they have enough to spare.

"He'll be fine, thank god." He kissed Rosalie's cheek and slid a chocolate bar into her lap. "It seems we have a guardian angel. ...She looks like one anyway."

"The girl that invited you to the ball?"

Emmett questioned Edward with his eyes and a small frown. Edward hadn't told them everything about what happened the night of the ball but they knew he hadn't been 100% himself since.

"Well...yes and no. Maybe."

Rosalie's eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs but as she parted her lips there was a slight, almost timid knock at the door. All eyes at the table skittered from one face to another.

Are we expecting anyone?

Edward was the first one to his feet. It could be Alex. Jasper had promised to fetch him if he took a turn for the worst.

Edward slung the door open. There, with hair hanging in her eyes and water running in tiny rivers down her face, stood a very wet Isabella. She was the last person on earth he expected to see, but just because he didn't expect it didn't make it any less real. He stared with his mouth hanging open for so long that Rosalie pushed him aside and drug Isabella out of the rain, sending Emmett down the hall for a towel.

Edward and Isabella stood staring at each other while items were being fetched around them. Anytime they saw each other in a new environment they would watch one another intently to see if there had been any change. Does she look more beautiful here or there? In moonlight or sunlight? Wet or dry?

"I'm sorry to intrude. Terribly sorry. I just-" Isabella's words were cut off by Rosalie toweling roughly through her hair and placing dry clothes into her hands.

"Now now, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm assuming you're a friend of Edward's? His guardian angel perhaps?"

Edward glared at Rosalie, flushed red, and rolled his eyes.

"No matter," Rose smiled. "The bathroom is down the hall and to the left. Emmett and I were just about to retire to our room, so you and Edward can have the kitchen to yourselves. …Edward, put the kettle on. She'll catch her death."

"You're pregnant," Isabella observed sweetly admiring Rose's swollen belly.

"Ha, yes, very," Rose breathed heavily.

Isabella didn't have time to thank her for her kindness before she was tugged down the hall. She could only throw Edward a puzzled look over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Rosalie was smiling so big Edward thought her face might crack. "Well she certainly is beautiful. You were right about that."

"Rosalie." Emmett's tender warning only made her smile bigger but she lowered her voice to a whisper.

"She's a dancer you say? She has a body to die for, from what I could see. But I'm sure Edward has seen much more and can fill us in on all the details later-"

"Rose!"

"What?"

Emmett motioned for her to join him in the bedroom and the door clicked shut as the bathroom door clicked open. Edward didn't have time to prepare for her return. He hadn't figured out whether he was going to sit or stand or what he was going to say before Isabella was standing right in front of him. Dressed in his clothes. Old faded ripped trousers that were two sizes too small for Edward but that Rosalie sometimes wore when she cleaned house – before she got pregnant - and a black shirt worn down to the softest thinness. Her hair was damp and waving perfectly around her face and down the back of her neck and her head lowered slightly, her shoulders slightly hunched.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't know where else to go and...That's a lie. ...I wanted to talk to you."

When she glanced up to gauge Edward's reaction to her confession Edward saw the red hand print faintly on her cheek. He stepped forward before he lost courage and turned Isabella's head at her jaw.

"Edward it's not what you think."

"You mean it's not the imprint of Demetri's wrath on your face? Because I have eyes, ya know. Pretty good ones at that. Unless you have two abusive boyfriends but I really can't see Demetri letting anyone else touch you."

He said this as his fingertips gingerly moved across Isabella's face. He caught her eyes and blushed, dropping his hand and coughing nervously.

"No I mean...Well it is. But I stood up to him. Just like you told me too. That's what I came to tell you. He hit me and I told him I was leaving and I did. I just...walked out. I told him I didn't know when I'd be back." Isabella's eyes were sparkling in the low light of the kitchen and she allowed one corner of her mouth to quirk up in a smile that Edward could tell she was trying to restrain.

"I still can't believe it. I've never ever done anything like that before, but I remembered what you said. About that not being love. When I told him that, he hit me again. I was so angry and I could hear your voice in my head and all I could think about was...you. ...Anyway I guess that's it. That's why I came. Um...thanks for the clothes."

Isabella was nervously rambling because Edward hadn't said anything. No good job. No congratulations. Nothing that Isabella expected. He walked to the table and pulled out two chairs.

"Sit. Please."

Isabella sat and Edward sat directly beside her but turned in his chair so their knees were brushing and he gestured to the pot of soup with his eyes but Isabella shook her head.

He sighed and gazed intensely into her eyes. "Isabella, I want to thank you for what you sent to the house. I haven't seen everyone that happy in months. Maybe a year. It was the most...thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me."

"I'm sure that's not-"

"It is. You've surely saved my friend's life and I swear to you I'll find a way to pay you back somehow, if it takes me my entire life."

"I think you're doing a pretty good job of it right now. Friends help each other, right?"

Friends?

It was the first time he'd heard Isabella say the word, especially in reference to him.

"I could be sleeping out in the rain right now but I'm not. I'm here with you, because you took the time to tell me that I don't deserve what he does to me. ...He's the only relationship I've ever had with another person, with the exception of my mother and brother. I've never had friends, really. ...No. Not really. Not ever. I've never had a real friend. I guess I just couldn't see how fucked up it all was."

Her voice hitched and just as Edward started to see her pull herself up and put on that strong face that she hid behind, he hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face into the moonlight streaming through the window, studying it closely until Isabella blushed.

"Do you ever smile?"

"What do you mean? I smile all the time."

"No. You don't. It never quite reaches your eyes. You do it all the time, you're right. But not really. I've seen you smile at bureaucrats because Demetri expects you too. I've seen you smile at Demetri because you feel that's your duty. You smile on stage to a screaming crowd because that's what they want. But you never smile just for you. ...Are you afraid?"

Isabella laughed nervously and pulled her head from Edward's fingers and his eyes boring into her soul.

"Afraid of smiling?"

"Afraid of showing anyone any real piece of yourself."

"....I smile at you."

A sweet grin broke out on Edward's face and Isabella ducked her eyes, obviously embarrassed at any confession she had allowed to slip, however coded it seemed to be.

"I wanted to come back. From Paris. He kept us there because I think he was afraid that...that I was becoming...attached...to you."

"Attached?" The grin was still on Edward's face. This sweet, stuttering girl trying to express any sort of feelings was the most endearing thing he'd ever seen.

"Attached. Yes. ...God no, that's not a very appealing word, now is it? Um...maybe.............I just really like you?"

She cringed and Edward's mouth fell open before he laughed out loud, covering his mouth with his hand, and that's when it happened.

Isabella smiled at him. The most dazzling smile he'd ever seen. A real one that lit up the chocolate depths of her eyes like fresh satin. "Is that a question?"

She laughed with him and reached forward, brushing her hand slightly along Edward's knee.

"I'm...not really sure what it was. It's true though."

"I really like you too. And you should smile like that more. It's breathtaking."

The kiss was slower than it had ever been. Neither of them really initiated it. They met in the middle and took the time to taste and play and learn the exact shape of each other's lips and alignment of teeth and length of tongue. It was intense but for some reason they both decided to keep it light and when they pulled away with Isabella's bottom lip slipping from between Edward's they were still smiling and keeping their foreheads pressed together.

"I should get back."

"You could stay."

"I can't"

"I know."

**

It was approaching midnight and the glow from the fire was the only light they needed. Sitting on the floor in front of the blaze was the best rest their legs could ever ask for and the heat from the flames could keep them warm for a fortnight. The left side of Edward's face and the right side of Isabella's were beet red and burning from the sparks shooting up and out of the logs but what did they expect...they were sitting so close to it, Indian style with their knees touching and their hands connected running thumbs along thumbs while they looked infinitely into each others eyes and just...held on.

Even in Edward's thin tee, Isabella was sweating. Delicate beads were forming on her forehead and every once in a while one would roll down her nose. Edward had lost count of how many he'd caught on the tip of his index finger and how many times he'd licked the tip of that same finger, savoring the saltiness that Isabella had created.

His legs had long fallen asleep but neither of those two predicaments warranted any movement that might compromise their current situation. The house was silent. Rosalie and Emmett had been asleep for hours and the cat was out chasing mice somewhere. The flickering cracks and burps from the fire were louder than their words, drowning out their whispers. Edward had also lost count of the number of kisses he'd stolen by having Isabella lean in closer to repeat herself.

I'm sorry, I didn't hear that, come closer, say it again.

If only the pesky clock on the wall would stop reminding them that time did not stand still for anyone...even for two people in love, one with nothing to lose, the other with everything.

"You're going back to him, aren't you?" Edward asked above the crackling so he didn't have to repeat such an odious thought.

Isabella wiped her hand down her nose and over her mouth, collecting a handful of sweat beads that Edward would never taste.

"I have to. It's too dangerous for me to be here. I shouldn't have come at all, I just - I had to see you. And there's a good chance I was followed...he knows your address from the studio. I don't want to put you or your family in danger, Edward."

"You think I'm in danger?" Edward's naivety upset Isabella more than the fact that she had to leave. It revealed to her that Edward was indeed vulnerable, susceptible to Demetri's wrath and vindictive streak, his ruthlessness and lack of mercy.

"You need only remind yourself of what he does to me to imagine what he's capable of doing to you. Except in your case, it will be worse, because he has no use for you; there is nothing he needs from you and nothing you could do for him. Therefore it would mean nothing to him if you vanished forever. You understand now why he gives me only superficial bruises and cuts? Nothing that could harm my joints or limbs or keep me from dancing. After all, who would pay to see a broken dancer limp around onstage?"

"...It's sickening. There has to be something we can do."

"We? Oh no. You are to do nothing. If anything were to happen to you I don't know what I....well, let's not think about that. I will concentrate on my dancing, like I always do. And that will get me through, like it always has. It's my escape; it's there when there's nothing else."

Isabella paused and looked into the fire slowly burning down to its last embers.

"And then again, there are times when it's not all bad, when there are measures of peace, when he's quite gentle and caring...and those are the times when I realize how lucky I am...how I could be...how I could have ended up..."

"Like me?" Edward interrupted without anger. "Well you and I must have very different definitions of pleasure and pain."

"I doubt they're all that different." Isabella grinned, reaching in and placing a kiss on Edward's sweaty upper lip.

"And what am I to do? Sit and watch you work every day and know that the thanks you get is a slap across the face?"

"And play. ...You'll play for me. And I'll dance for you and that's how it will be."

"But...you said you like me."

"I do. I more than like you...which is why I must go."

"How can you go back to that? Back to him? Knowing at any moment...that he could..." Edward ran his hand lightly down Isabella's cheek, barely making contact with the light peach fuzz of her supple skin. "I can't stand knowing that he hurts you."

"I made an agreement."

"What kind of agreement?"

"He agreed that you could be my pianist, full-time and onstage during the performances, if I agreed never to see you, never to talk to you, never to talk about you, nothing..."

"You talk about me?"

"...and I'm definitely not to see you outside of the studio."

Isabella took Edward's shaking hand from her face and pressed her lips into his warm, moist palm, nosing around and kissing tenderly along the lifelines, running her tongue along the deep groove of the center.

"It has to be this way. For now at least......until I figure something else out. In the meantime I have the show to think about. I have to concentrate on the show. The performance can't suffer."

The sound of an engine idling in the driveway disrupted the innuendo-filled moment and sent Isabella to her feet and Edward bounded to the window. He pulled aside the flimsy lace curtains that Rosalie handmade and poked his nose to the window.

"There's a car outside. A black sedan," Edward turned from the window to face Isabella, who was standing in the middle of the room with the blood visibly draining from his face.

"It's just idling there with the lights off."

Isabella crossed the room and headed to the door without stopping.

"I better go. Stay inside. I mean it, Edward. Don't come out. Don't follow me, even if I don't come back."

Before her hand turned the knob, it pulled Edward by the waistband and lips found lips with closed eyes. Sucking breaths mingled with whispers between them continued from the floor that only they understand. Isabella clamped a hand on either side of Edward's head, at his temple, and pressed their foreheads together so Edward could feel her nod it's going to be alright. Edward nodded back and watched from the window as the faint tint of the moon in the distant horizon threw Isabella's silhouette across the dirt driveway.

The driver's side window lowered as Isabella approached and she exhaled when Maxwell's face appeared behind it.

"Did he send you?" she asked.

"No. He hasn't left his study since your...disagreement. And he doesn't know I'm gone."

Isabella smiled at her only friend - if the definition of a friend was someone who picked you up and droped you off, opened the door and then closed it for you, took you everywhere and back again, and who came to get you after your boyfriend had hit you. Isabella knew basically nothing about Maxwell except that his name was Maxwell and that he had a spotless driving record. Does he like to be called Max for short? Isabella wouldn't know. Does he have a family, a wife, a husband, children? Has he ever seen Isabella dance? Unlikely, unless it was through the window while he waited. All these thoughts were running through Isabella's head while she vowed to make sure Maxwell got a pair of tickets to her next show. One for him and...one for whoever the fuck he hung out with.

"Ma'am...You have to come back."

Isabella looked towards the light coming from the front window of the house and smiled at Edward's face peering out. She waved weakly to let him know there was no danger and then she turned back to Maxwell.

"....Yes. I know." Without another look she opened the rear door and slipped inside, knowing if she were to take another look up at Edward she'd never go. She quickly slumped down in the leather interior, almost all the way down to her shoulders so she couldn't see the house out of the tinted windows as the car headed down the driveway out of sight.