Author note: Hey guys, here it is! Chapter 10. I knew it took a while but i hope its worth it. The next chapter is almost done and will be posted shortly later.I was listening to this song while writing this chapter. It's really beautiful and you should look it up if you have the chance.

Radiohead/Fake Plastic Trees

"It wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out

She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns

Disclaimer: Everything related to Twilight and its characters belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I own the plot of Blank Spaces

Chapter 11: Door at the end of the hall

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The light was faded and murky beyond the small curtain of his bedroom window, casting light onto the sea of white bedding before us. His mouth was heavy and wet on my own, the weight of his body pressing me down into the mattress. I reached my fingers and twisted them in his hair which was now sticking to his forehead from sweat but still soft as ever and that strange, auburn color that even stood out vivid in color with little to no light; That and his eyes. His eyes: green and resigned looking when he pulled away from my face to look down, were soft, glazed, almost—tired, tired like a man who had just came home years later from winning a battle far off in another part of the world.

His look was so entrancing, locked into mine that I found myself struggling to maintain eye contact. I grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him to me as I laid my back against the soft material of his bedding. My actions were becoming uncharacteristic; bold. I found myself almost reflexively pulling him closer and pushing harder against him. My brain not nearly moving quick enough to match my actions. The pleasure was blinding, keeping me ignorant to everything around me. Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I knew this. Another part didn't care—just wanted to keep feeling that same feeling.

He dropped his face into the crook of my neck. "Bella" he whispered. His breathing was hard and rushed, fanning across my skin and against my jaw. He moved his kisses upwards and mumbled my name again, his hands making their way up until they were tracing the contours of my cheekbones. I managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes: foggy green, hooded with dark lashes. His mouth was then on mine not rough but gentle, a different rhythm.

"Tell me you want this" he said after his lips released mine.

We lay for a while: me sprawled across the white linen of his bed sheet with his on top of me, his mouth inches away from my own. My chest was rising and falling rapidly trying to even out the hurried race of adrenaline that was rising throughout me and filled my body. When I finally managed to catch my breath and open my eyes, he was staring down at me with almost a worried look. His hair was wild and matted across his forehead in spots, his skin pale in the light of the window.

I most of not answered for a while because he bent his face closer to mine and looked straight into my eyes.

"Bella, please answer" He whispered.

His breathing was almost more frantic than mine; ruining the calming vibe he was trying to send to me. His eyes looked tired and worn; sad even. They were always a passage into his emotions, something consistent in the man whom seemed so barren and unexposed to others.

I felt as if the light from the window had gotten brighter and my body had gotten heavier against the mattress; my movements against his body had gotten slower. "I don't think this is right" I managed to choke out. I felt light-headed, dizzy, the room around me spinning. Nothing seemed to add up; nothing made sense in this whirlwind of sensory blindness. The touch, the smell, the sounds—it was all overwhelmingly distracting.

I've never done anything like this before. I've only had sex with two people in my entire twenty three years. Both were long time boyfriends. Mike Newton, who I dated, most of my high school life, took about a year to finally initiate anything close to sex with my passiveness and his shy personality. Mike could be described by others as bland and/or boring. I'd—have to agree. The sex felt like that as well. I loved that boy sure, but there was always something missing with him. Never felt new or exciting. It always felt calculated: Every touch, movement, word.

My other long-term boyfriend was a man named Riley. Riley Biers. 24 years old, somewhere now enrolled in a law school down south. I met him when we both fresh out of high school enrolled in Forks community college, back when I was young and had motivation for days, wanted to be a writer. He was charismatic and I was coming down from a hard break-up. He took me to get a pizza down at Georgio's on the campus avenue then soon followed were on his mother's couch kissing like we didn't give a care in the world. Next thing I know, he's flying out south saying something about leaving this town and getting into something bigger and better, law school, Get a degree, make money, have a life you always wanted, a life we wanted, come with me baby.

Well I didn't want that.

He said, You don't know what you want Izzy.

Sure knew I didn't want to be living somewhere off in the south, alone waiting for boyfriend to get home from law school. I couldn't leave everyone like that—couldn't leave Jasper, Charlie. He packed up his suitcase and was running down the gate to catch the next plane leaving me alone and with another blank space left in my heart to fill.

Riley was a good guy, selfish as hell though. That was the case in both guys followed after lasting one date with short, clipped conversations and that dry smile that left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, All the same.

But Edward

Edward

Something was just different about him.

"Why isn't it right" Edward asked pushing his lips hard into my own, snapping me back into reality. This was happening now. Forget about the past, I wanted to tell myself. This is happening now. Its palpable and real and what you've been waiting for, take it. I lived too much in the past, Loved the moments of distant nostalgic happiness that I was blind to when something was happening, something worth wild.

His kisses grew harder and more desperate, trying to convince me. The way he looked so distanced, lost in the eyes, led me to believe he was trying to convince himself as well. "Why isn't it right" he said again before pushing his lips once more almost to the point where I had to pull him off for air.

"It just doesn't seem right" I choked out when he let up for air.

His brow was creased and his eyes narrowed.

"Does it not feel right? He slid down and molded his hips into mine for emphasis. Oh. He was hard, really hard, warmth and flesh. I couldn't help but slide back against him, pushing against the hardness, reveling in the friction.

He grunted. "Your body uh says differently." His mouth was silently parted open and he was inhaling deep breaths, shuddering on the ends. His hair fell down and tickled against the skin of my face. It spelt like woods and paint from outside, heavy and strong, muscular—familiar. I inhaled in the scent and laid my head back as his mouth quickly followed behind to lie against my neck.

Familiar

My senses were filled of him, longed for him. They knew of him and didn't want to stop when they found him. This all seemed oh, so wrong. But Edward—Edward for some reason, felt right. This wasn't about having sex and feeling good. For some reason it felt like more. Not love but just the feeling to be close to someone else, to have another person feel the same as you are. I wanted to feel what he felt. It was about him, being with him. Whatever the hell that meant.

This wasn't foreign; this wasn't unnerving. This would never be wrong. It was Edward and for some reason I felt like I knew him, really knew him. If that makes me sound like a sad, naïve girl then I guess I was. Even when things felt unsure and different and unpredictable, I felt safe with him. I wanted to be with him. It felt known.

Familiar doesn't have to mean used to. It just needs to be some sort of refuge in a place where all other things seem distance and alone. Maybe it was the being alone in a small cabin together wrapped around the dark trees of the forest away from everyone else. It reminded me of my psychology class back in high school and the well-known case of Stockholm syndrome: an emotional attachment to a captor formed by a hostage as a result of continuous stress, dependence, and a need to cooperate for survival. We talked about how sometimes captured hostages from some kidnapping cases might feel as if they become caring or almost "in love" with their captor because it's all they become accustomed to know.

Edward was not my captor.

But did I feel trapped, like I could not escape? I had free will to leave whenever his truck was fixed. I could leave.

My thoughts became clouded and unimportant when I felt the hot touch of his fingers touch my bare skin once again. Edward was familiar, even his un-known touch to my torso felt recognizable. It felt as if he had always been there yet the feeling was new and coursed through my veins with fire, more need, A never ending vicious circle, only ending with more and more fuel thrown and added into the fire. The flames were destined to rise and take over everything with their entirety.

"Sweet, sweet Bella" he mumbled. I almost didn't hear his tone was so quiet.

My brain was in whiplash. The emotion of soft, gentle touch meshed with hard demands and tight holds against my hips. I groaned and slid back down into him to prove my point.

Damn it, I needed this. I didn't want to think anymore, I just wanted to feel his hands as they explored me. He was still over me as I slid further into him and pushed him until he was lying on his back across the white linens. He stared up at me, his eyes bright and his chest moving silently with his breathing. Auburn locks tangled and thrown in wild disarray and pale skin in the light of the far window.

Beautiful

I stood before him on the ground before the bed. My hands tightened into fists at my side, fighting the urge to rush, to feel to burn out quick and fast in procession. I didn't want that though. I felt my hands loosen into light touches against my legs. I wanted this to go slow, simmering heat. I wanted to savor.

Without a word, I silently laid beside him on the side next to him. I tentatively reached out a hand and laid it against his stomach. His muscles in his abdomen almost immediately contracted, a shaky breath leaving him. "Bella" he whispered softly, almost in plea.

I was too far gone. His words faintly singing in the back of my head, echoing, my touch pressed harder against his skin. I began to feel more bold and explorative. My fingers sprawled out to the touch the bare skin where his t-shirt had ridden before the denim waist-line of his jeans.

A moan escaped him this time; a sexy, damn distracting moan. My efforts in trying to draw this out and take it slow were on a dangerously low level of success right now. He was just so tempting without even knowing it and I—well; I was just a puppet to him, a string puppet in which he had control. I wish I could have been angry for it, but I couldn't be. I willingly let him control me.

And I was not going to stop this for anything.

Still laying my hand against his torso, I leaned in closer to him and placed my lips against his, hard and molding against his. He liked it like this. He liked it like I did: soft and gentle but needy and rough when you both could sense it was needed, what you wanted.

Bella today, was getting what she wanted.

And it started with this

"Your shirt" I breathed when his lips left mine. He nodded fiercely, eyes glazed. I reached down and hooked both of my hands onto the bottom hem of his T-shirt and lifted it up. He raised his arms allowing me to pull it above his head and throw it somewhere far into the background.

His chest was pale in the moonlight, rippled and taught. I probably had the same look he wore right about now, weary, out of place. My hands were almost shaking with the need to touch him.

"Touch me" He said, reading my mind. "Please" he whispered, looking up at me, his mouth parted open and his eyes hooded as before.

Oh, Fuck.

I nodded and tentatively reached my hand and placed it on his abdomen like I did earlier. He took in another deep breath, closing his eyes and leaning his head further back into the comforter. His torso moved up and down where my hand was places, matching to the pace of his uneven breaths.

I stared at my hand as it stood frozen against his skin. My eyes then shot up to his face. He was still leaning against the comforter, eyes closed. He looked so calm—at peace. My look returned to my hand.

Don't be a coward

I nodded to myself and took in a shaky breath. Meanwhile, moving my hand further south slowly until it reached the waist line of his jeans. I felt his breathing stop. I was pretty sure mine did too. Time stopped in general almost as if the breeze from the window had stopped mid-air and the all sounds other the ones we were making ceased to exist.

I looked back to his face to see him looking at me now from his hooded lashes. He was waiting for me to make the initial move, he was gauging my emotions. He looked on encouragingly almost to show me it was okay. This was okay.

I nodded to myself and slowly slid both of my hands until they were placed onto his covered thighs and leaned in closer towards him. His hips pressed up searching for friction, an almost soft whimper escaping him. I leaned in and pressed a chaste peck onto his lips which were swollen and pink from previous kisses. They were soft and damp and I had to forcibly remove myself from them so I continue on with what I was doing. It was now or never.

I let one of my fingers reach and draw a line down the center of his jeans, where it was hard and strained. He practically bucked off the bed with that movement. It felt so good to be like this: soft and gentle in pace; explorative, like two people experiencing each other for the first time.

"Uh" he moaned. "Please, I need— these off." His hands made their way to mine and quickly helped me pull down his jeans until they gathered at his ankles and fell to a puddle on the floor. He laid now before me in nothing other than simple silk black boxer briefs. They were tented in the middle which met to the designed "v" shape where he was thick and hard, His muscles physically relaxing without the strain of the jeans.

He laid down now besides me and laced his fingers under the end of the shirt he let me borrow. "Is this okay?" he asked.

I nodded.

He didn't need any more convincing, before my t-shirt was up and over me, thrown off the bed to fall with his clothes on the floor. Before he could ask, I reached down and pulled off my sweatpants so we now lying side by side with him in nothing other than his boxer briefs and me with nothing other than my bra and panties. The bra was acceptable but I still had those ugly Pikachu underwear on that Jasper gave me from Christmas. If I ever saw him again, I was going to tell him the story about how I was about to have sex with a guy and I had Pokémon underwear on.

If I ever saw him again? Of course I was going to. I cringed at the thought, trying to block it out of my head. I didn't want to think about that, not right now.

At least i was wearing these and not the boxers Edward let me borrow. How embarrassing if we were laying next to one another both wearing the same kind of underwear. The image caused me to laugh.

"What?" he asked with a hesitant smile.

"Oh, nothing" I smiled, leaning in closer to him.

"Tell me" he whispered, closing the distant to kiss me on the neck. He kisses traveled down my neck leaving a trail of hot, wet, fire across my skin.

"I, um was just thinking about my underwear and how lame I probably look at the moment."

The kisses on my neck stopped abruptly and were replaced by a deep chuckle: a lovely, deep sound unlike anything I've ever heard before, so genuine and real. He looked up to me with bright eyes and a bright smile that I couldn't help but smile a big smile back at him.

"Bella you are the most beautiful, kind, funny—interesting person I've ever met in my life. You're nobody else, nothing else, a fire in a dark, empty room."His eyes glanced down to my underwear and then back to my face. He leaned his head close to mine so are foreheads touched, "interesting." Based on the way his hands held my hips against his own and lips began to part slowly as they got closer towards mine, it was about to become interesting.

Author note: Thoughts?