A/Note: I freaking hate to say it, but this aint the last chapter. I wanted to wrap everything up and be done with it, but when I wrote this I realized that this part had to stand on its own. I'm sorry. I swear, the next chapter is the last chapter (besides the epilogue). SWEAR.

I was amazed. After all that, Edward didn't have a spot of Carlisle's blood on him. It was splattered across the piano, seeping between the keys and dying the ivory a deep crimson. I felt bad for whoever had to fix and clean it. I wondered if it would play right after what it witnessed.

As I stared at the piano, a panic attack hit me. It felt like a cross between a heart attack and strangulation, and for a wild moment I looked to Edward to make sure he wasn't strangling me.

He was watching me quietly. He held the top sheet of his bed in his hands and was awkwardly tearing it into strips. One arm was still badly injured and he couldn't grasp the fabric, so he had to pin one corner between his elbow and ribcage while he tore with his good hand.

I tried to quiet myself -mumble sensei over and over and Zen out or some shit. Meanwhile, Edward replaced the dirty gauze around his shoulder and arm with the strips of sheet, and then he fashioned himself a makeshift sling.

I placed a hand over my heart and rubbed, trying to massage it back to normal palpitation.

"Are you better?" he asked.

"Yes. I think so."

Edward picked up Carlisle's cell phone. A call was already buzzing on the screen- he pressed Ignore and then started a text:

To: Alice Cullen

Tell the police that I will speak to them in forty-five minutes, he sent.

Edward was bad with texting. His broad fingers couldn't manage the tiny keys, and though it took him nearly two minutes, he capitalized and typed out every punctuation mark. What an Anal Andy.

I remembered how I only texted people when I was trying to duck out of an engagement and was too cowardly to talk to them. Frequently the recipient was Lauren. She was strident when people cancelled on her- she always took it as a grave insult. So I always texted her, cant make it, and then ignored her calls until enough time had lapsed for her to cool down.

It amused me to see Edward employing the same tactics with the police. I guess he was scared and didn't feel like having a contentious conversation.

How insane.

It was rare I remembered that Edward was a teenager and that for all his evil genius he still thought and reasoned like the stupid fuck of a kid he was.

He dropped the phone to the ground and raised his face to me. His eyes were so wide that I could barely see his lids. He looked scared and white as a ghoul, and he shook his head, as though to clear the fear away. I could see it in his face, I just texted the police. And asked them to give me a few minutes before they barged through the door in a halo of gunfire.

"Are you... what are you feeling?" I asked stupidly. I wanted to ask, are you alright?, but that question was ridiculous.

"I'm not ready."

To face all the cops waiting in the street to arrest him? No, I imagined not.

"O...kay." I stared at the poster of Christ.

"I want sex," he mumbled.

That got my attention. "Wh-What?"

He raked his good hand over his cranium. His hair had gotten longer. It was now a solid coat of burnished brown, with no hint of skin underneath. Its length was almost-normal.

"I ...well, something's probably about to happen. And I'd liked to not be a virgin when it does." He barked a laugh. "You know- all those movies where it's the end of world and the high school dweeb is running around propositioning women because he doesn't want to die without getting laid first? Well, that's sorta this."

Well.

Framed that way, I would be sort of a bitch if I denied him.

I glanced down at his crotch. "Are you sure you're up for that? You're... sick."

He shrugged and reached for his belt. "Fear is a powerful aphrodisiac." Suddenly he looked sheepish, and he glared above my head at a corner of the ceiling while he said, "Like, when I said you would stay with me no matter what... what I mean was... I really want to fuck you before... anything happens to me."

So basically, Edward thought he could die and my vagina was sort of like his last meal.

"Oh. Well. Yes, then." I tried to fight back a smirk and failed. "Of course."

He nodded.

He looked impatient as I undressed, like a little kid frustrated with the wrapping paper keeping them from their present. When we were both naked he put his hands on my shoulder and pushed me until I was seated on the bed; then he bent and wrapped a big hand around my ankles, and he lifted my legs up, arranging me just so. When I seemed comfortable, he slid in next to me. He ran a hand over the space of sheet between us, smoothing the wrinkles in the linen.

We lay naked on our sides facing each other, and I felt tight as a guitar wire, each muscle stiff to the point of cramping.

I knew he was nervous too, and I tried to kiss him so he would stop thinking so hard. He didn't like the kissing- his lips moved mechanically and grudgingly, and eventually he huffed and tilted his head away, his face contorted in distress.

"I'm sorry. I just want... it..." And he pointed, all four fingers tucked except for the forefinger, which was rigidly arrowed toward my pelvis. "Can't I just have..."

"Sure."

"Are you...sure?"

"Yes. Please." I figured begging might help. Edward seemed like the kind of guy who would like begging.

So he brought a hand to his face and inspected the cleanliness of his nails (astonishingly clean, all things considered). Then he stuffed his hand between my legs.

"I don't understand all this," he said. He poked a hard finger around my genitals. "I don't understand the nooks. Why do vaginas have nooks?'

"Labia," I muttered, and I mashed myself closer next to him. I liked the way his chest felt against my breasts- I liked feeling the stuttering beat of his heart against my nipple.

"All those nooks just seem useless. It reminds me of this badger that has a nose shaped like a star fish. What a retarded animal, you know? Just- it seems like there could have been a better way for your body to form. Evolution does stupid things." He skirted a nail along a fold of skin. He was getting hard now, and the firmer his penis got, the softer he handled me- his movements phasing from clinical exploration to languid sensuality. "Why can't it be a plain ol' hole?"

"What, like another butt hole?"

"No. Not like a butt hole." He let go of my clit and grasped the head of his penis, making quick hard tugs. "I think I'm starting to warm up to it, though."

He bit his lip hard, and one eyebrow twitched crookedly. He angled his prick against me and did an experiment bob inside, sliding in a fraction of an inch and then slipping right out. "Can... I..."

I nodded, and he sort of rolled his eyes at that, like yeah right. He didn't believe me- probably on some level he didn't buy that this was happening.

I tugged at his shoulder and scooted under him, arranging us with me underneath and him tentatively leaning over me. All eye rolling scorn was erased from his face. Now he was looking down at me with vulnerable worry, like he was a beached marine mammal inspecting this new surface he'd landed himself on. It was there on his face: oh god, naked girl.

I opened and wrapped my legs around him, bringing the heat of his cock directly against me. He gasped and grabbed hold of himself again, bringing the head back against my entrance.

"It's okay," I said. "Really."

And at that he surged his hips forward, quickly pushing himself inside with the flinching fury of someone ripping the band aid off, his hips bruising as they muscled through my thighs.

"Oh.. oh my... wow." He shuddered and tucked a slightly damp nose against my shoulder. His cheeks grew wet, but I refused to believe that he was crying.

I curled my arm around his back. "It's ok. If you need to-"

"Are you okay?" he whispered. "Are you... does it hurt..."

"No. I..." I thought quickly. "I already lost my virginity... in a bike accident."

He nodded against my neck, and as he nodded he started thrusting. A low groan slid out wetly along my collarbone.

As he got down to task, he forgot wholly about my clitoris, and instead clutched at my breasts and hips, his hands leaving long flowing finger marks across my stomach. I pressed myself into him harder, wanting to feel as much of his skin as he could.

"I want to fuck you forever," he said. He raised his face and I saw clearly the salty streaks of tears down his cheeks. "I could do this forever."

I shook my head. "We... I would get pregnant eventually... I can't fuck you if I'm having baby."

He hissed through his teeth and bit my neck. "Then I'll fuck your mouth."

He gave one long, kidney-punching thrust, and came, his moan coming out as a gurgle. Then he jerked backwards and kneeled between my legs, and his penis gave one final arc of fluid onto my thigh.

He remained there for several moments, his cheeks puffing in heavy breaths, his eyes tightly shut. Every few moments he would wipe his forearm across his cheeks, trying to dry himself, but the tears never stopped coming. I jacked myself off to the sight of his crying until my legs shook.

"I love you..." he gasped. "God, I love you..."