Disclaimer: Twilight and it's universe belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I'm just a'playin'.

Random Bits o' biz:

What I'm Reading—I've been good about this for WaxCr—but I've sucked at keeping it up for N&W. My main recommendation for hot-Edward-smexin'-with-a-cigarette are the stories by americnxidiot. I'm not a big let's-read-your-descriptions person as far as FF goes, but she really describes everything in the most fascinating way, and yet she still manages to make me read every word and fan myself over her feckin' sexy ExB stories. As far as funny goes, I've been reading the stories by GuineaPigBarbie for very dry, bitter smarmy wonderfulness.

Self-Pimpin'—my "adult" story, Sin and Incivility, is officially complete, and it makes sense now that it's all nice and tight—and all that was not what it seemed has had its seams sown up in a tight little seven chapter bundle… so consider checking that out, and I also wrote a really horrifying (and funny) Emmett one shot for mischiefmaker1 and fiberkitty's contest. It's like… Road Trip or American Pie humor meets Chasing Amy so be forewarned. Also, go and check out the other stories under the C2 group under their combo name kittenmischief. (And if you're wondering about the status of WaxCr, see my profile.)

So, this is undeniably the most demented of all N&W chapters—and yes, there is actually a point to this writing-wise, so even if it is neither funny nor hot—there is still a point.

(Although, I—personally—find it hysterical)

~ * ~

Chapter Twenty:

In which Bella Gets Stalled and a Poet Gets Called

~ * ~

Charlie, never one for many words, was at an utter and complete loss for words when he met me outside of the principal's office.

"Bella," he accused, and he really only needed to say my name in that tone to let the accusation weigh. He was the Chief of Police after all, and I suspected that he secretly prided himself on following the Clint Eastwood silent-but-deadly model. Of course, this was only further edified by how his hand clutched his holstered gun.

"Yes, father?"

"Violence is an unacceptable form of behavior in a young lady."

I had to restrain myself from glaring at him. It was moments like these in which I understood why my parents had separated, because I'm pretty sure that Renee would have bushwhacked him with a fan of Forks ferns if she had been around to hear the words "unacceptable form of behavior" alongside "young lady." But then again, maybe at this point in his life Charlie couldn't help the "official speak."

I decided to be blunt.

"Dad, Tyler Crowley threw me in a closet and forced my hand on his male part."

My father's face stilled, and I couldn't help but notice his knuckles whitening as his hand clamped down on his fire arm.

"I'm going to talk to the principal," he growled, and then my father left me to sit and wait.

~ * ~

Having a father in the police force turned out to be a useful thing.

Useful, in that Charlie had to be convinced not to arrest Tyler.

And when I really thought about it…

Tyler had to be a right dumbass to grope the police chief's daughter.

Like, dumbass enough, in my opinion, to deserve two socks in the schnoz in the same day.

When Charlie and the principal emerged, they looked all chummy and proud of themselves, and I heard side mentions of fly-fishing and poker night, and for a minute, I was actually a bit worried. But then Charlie spoke the magic words.

"Principal Meyer understands the situation, Bella, but you're still going to have to serve detention."

Bingo.

"Sorry to disappoint, dad," I replied as meekly as I could.

He didn't say anything for a minute, and I could tell he was weighing out various trains of thought, but then he finally spoke.

"I never asked. Is your hand okay?"

"Just fine, I kept my thumb tucked and everything."

My father looked down at me, and then he smiled, all crinkly-eyed.

"That's my girl," he said, messing my hair affectionately.

~ * ~

I arrived at detention five minutes early. Señora Goff walked in a few minutes later. Even if she always pronounced my full name, Isabella and tended to hug people more than I considered necessary, I liked her.

And more importantly, she liked me.

Edward walked in only a moment later. He stopped, and he stared at me, and I stared back. Our dumb, love-struck gazing was broken up Señora Goff.

"Ay, Eduardo, siéntate!

"Of course, Mrs. Goff."

She tossed her hand up dramatically, so as to signal her total lack of interest in all things high school.

"Okay, you two, fill out the attendance form for me. The rules are silence and compliance, so no talking—and no funny business. You two are good kids, well, normally, anyway, so I trust you two to follow them. Now, I'm going to run to the lounge and get a coffee, so sit tight."

She set down the clipboard on the desk in front of me and breezed out the classroom door.

And then Edward and I began our fervent whispering.

"Is it true? Please tell me you didn't really hit Tyler in the nose again?"

"Of course I did. He goaded me."

"Bella, you could have hurt yourself."

I stuck out my tongue at him.

He rolled his eyes.

But then I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. I was actually trying to be coquettish. "Are you really that sad that I'm here with you?" I murmured.

I was being too obvious, so he smirked and then he stuck his tongue out at me.

I tried to lick it.

But he stole it away.

I got his chin instead.

Oh, well.

I focused on sucking on his chin.

But then Edward had the nerve to push me away and scold me. "Bella, we're in detention!"

I gave him a definitively level look. "We're alone, and Señora Goff is wearing those psycho heels. We'll be able to hear her clicking all the way down the hall."

"Bella," he whined.

I think he meant for the whining to incite logic or reason or something.

But the whining just made me straddle his lap.

And straddling him seemed to have the effect, because Edward gave up on his stupid worries, groaning huskily as I settled myself. Thankfully, he dropped the façade and decided that he wanted to play, too. His hands found my waist, his lips met mine, and I felt a rather conspicuous hard-on through his jeans. And then the euphoria set in: the holy-fuck-I'm-kissing-Edward sensation that made me as lightheaded as it made me horny as fuck.

Since I wasn't allowed to stick my tongue in his mouth, I settled for tracing the outline of his lips, nipping on the fuzzy soft ends of his earlobes, and scratching my fingers through his soft hair, and Edward, all the meanwhile, kissed a line of kisses from my jaw to the base of my neck, while pulling my hips tighter against him, which in turn caused me to moan and him to grit his teeth.

And then the fucker grabbed between my legs.

Not that I should have been surprised.

But I gasped.

And his thumb pressed against me—right there.

"Edward…I…thought…damn—detention."

"What was that?" he teased.

But he kept rubbing.

And I could see the faint blue veins in his forearm clenching and unclenching as he moved his hand against me.

I couldn't feel it as well as I had this morning—I was wearing jeans, after all—but I could still fucking feel it. And the fact that I was very aware that this room was the very last place Edward should be touching me like this… it just made me all the wetter.

But then we heard the clicking.

And Edward's hand stopped moving.

I decided right there that I temporarily hated all women with loud shoes.

Because I had to pull myself out of Edward's lap.

And sit two desks over.

And cross my legs.

And be what Charlie would call a "proper young lady."

When Señora Goff strolled into the room, she was carrying a large thermos and a massive stack of magazines and papers. Not paying us any heed, she plopped down at her desk in the front of the room, and started flipping through the various publications.

I stared at the trigonometry assignment sitting on my desk.

Sinusoid proofs.

Fuck me. Not happening right now. The combination of Edward's side profile and the tense throbbing sensation between my legs were not permitting analytical thought.

So, I pulled out another piece of paper.

I drew an unhappy face.

And then a ring of flower petals around it.

With a stem and leaves for finishing touches.

I stole a peek at Goff—she was staring intently, slightly open-mouthed at whatever she was reading. Huh. Must be intriguing stuff. Either way, she wouldn't notice.

I held up my drawing for Edward to see.

Unhappy flower. I frowned, too. The flower and I, we were in sync.

Edward smirked, but then his eyes left the page and traveled down my body.

His green eyes looked intently at the lower half of me.

Which made me clench my thighs together.

Which he saw, so he smirked even more obviously.

Cocky punk.

And I couldn't take it anymore, so I marched to the front of the room.

"Is it alright if I go to the bathroom, Señora?"

She didn't look up. She just waved her hand at me.

I scampered out of the classroom.

I headed to the ladies room. It was dead quiet as I made my way down the hall and pushed through the two sets of doors and into the restroom, the only real noises being my steps and the squeaking of hinges. When I looked into the mirror, my current state was rather obvious. I had flushed cheeks, reddened lips, and rather bright eyes.

I waved in the mirror.

What's up horny Bella?

I walked up to the first sink and tried to turn the right-hand faucet. The knob spun with no friction. Broken. So I turned the left one. A blast of steamy water flew out. I brought my finger forward to touch it but withdrew it immediately. Scalding hot, so I went over to the other sink. I turned the right-hand knob.

The cold water poured out.

Exactly what I needed right now, so I cupped my hands in order to splash my face.

But then I heard the voice behind me.

"Don't even think about it."

I spun on my heel.

But he had taken the steps and was already directly behind me, so that when I turned, I turned directly into his chest. His one hand caught my upper arm, steadying me while the other reached around to turn off the running water.

"Eh, Edward, you do realize that you're in a girl's bathroom, right?"

He ignored me, pressing me into the counter with his hips.

I had to bite back a moan, because the effect of his body pressing against mine was making me flustered and breathy all over again.

"Edward, we are in detention—it's not like Goff isn't going to notice…" but Edward kissed me to get me to shut up.

I started to push against his chest, so he broke the kiss to explain. "Axelrod poked her head in to get Goff to join her for a cigarette—she'll be out there for at least fifteen, twenty minutes. You know how they are…" and his voice trailed off because his mouth had found the crook of my neck, while his fingers were sliding along the top hem of my jeans.

I tried to bat his fingers away because this really wasn't the time or place—and really, there was always the possibility that someone could…

Edward grabbed my thighs and lifted me up against him, before carrying me to the back stall of the bathroom.

I had to acknowledge that being lifted and carried by nicely shaped biceps is hot.

And then Edward shoved me against the wall, letting my legs drop.

"I love you," he said.

I gave up.

I decided to let Edward get me off. Difficult decision, right?

I undid the top buckle of my jeans.

Edward found my zipper.

Zip.

A beautiful sound.

And then I shrugged my jeans down.

And Edward shoved my panties down.

And then he placed his hands in between my legs, and he bent his fingers just so.

I was already dripping as it was, so the rage of sensation began almost immediately.

The talented fingers rocked back and forth.

My body trembled. I couldn't help it so I spat out and groaned funny sounds that were almost words—but not—like "shEEzafuckincraPPers" or "gahOOOn" or "fuCKatosh," while my neurons crissed-and-crossed in one long, tangled tic-tac-toe.

And then Edward was pressing the heel of his palm against my clit, even as his fingers fiddled in and out of me.

In and out.

Fuck.

I had to bite down against the soft cotton fabric covering his shoulder, because my weird little noises were building into something more.

Then Edward put his thumb on the trigger.

He twirled it in tight circles.

And the game was over.

I dug my nails into his back.

I buried a muffled moan into the crook of his neck.

When my muscles started to relax, I loosened my grip on Edward.

Happy sigh.

And then I went for his belt buckle, his jeans button, and then the zipper.

And we were kissing, mouths locked together, as he pushed his pants down, and then his boxers, so I wasn't looking even as my hand found his shape, and I gripped him.

Edward groaned at the contact, his neck falling back slightly.

And I looked down.

Eh, sorta shocking—a swallowed breath and a lot of blinking from me.

Like I wanted to say, "Hey, hello, there, I've only ever seen your kind in airbrushed pictures or on small practically unisex babies with nappy diapers, and now, dear goodness, you're right in front of me…"

And Edward was not small.

So all of this was very intimidating.

But of course Edward caught on. He understood the expression on my face before even I could process my thoughts or fears or desires.

So he kissed me.

And there was a tip of his…

Tongue.

Tongue. Tongue. Tongue.

Still, just the tip.

But it caused me to moan and sway.

And then he wrapped his hand around my hand and gently moved my fingers, repositioning them at a different angle and in different spots, and then he gently pushed our hands up and down on him, setting a rhythm.

I started to catch on.

After a moment, he pulled his hand away and braced himself against the wall behind him. I looked up at him for approval, to see if this was okay, if it was what he wanted, and he nodded back, his green eyes murky and heavily-lidded.

Pretty fucking hot.

So I got into it and relaxed, gripping his ass with my other hand as my mouth planted kisses across his chest.

And then Edward reached down and tried to touch me, too.

I had to bat his hand away.

I was learning.

And then he tried to pull my free hand so that I would touch myself.

I had to slap his hand away again.

"Just you now," I soothed, and my voice was very low and husky.

Edward yielded and nodded, and I continued to focus on him, increasing the pace and pressure as I went. His breathing grew heavier and heavier, and stuttered rasps and groans started escaping.

And I realized I had no idea what to do about the final step.

"Edward, I breathed his name. "What do I do when you…?"

He nodded, understanding. His free hand pointed to the paper dispenser besides the toilet.

But I looked, and there was not any paper there, just an empty cardboard roll.

We chose the one fucking stall with no tp.

And yet Edward's breathing was accelerating, small beads of sweat collecting at the very top of his forehead, and I knew that both of us would be loathe to stop things.

"Edward—no tp," I informed him, still keeping up my motions.

"We can move. I can…" he flapped a hand in the direction of the toilet.

"You'd aim?" I asked incredulously, and my voice didn't really hold back the uck factor.

I didn't know how to tell him that we were not at the point in our relationship where I was comfortable seeing him shoot any fluids into the john, spunk or otherwise.

And definitely not on the floor either.

Another mental eww. This was the fucking girls' restroom.

The lines in Edward's forehead were tensed, his lips parted, as he gasped and shuddered. "Bella," he whined, "what the fuck then should…?"

But he didn't get to finish, because the whining got to me again.

And because he had already given me the tongue tip.

And because I dropped to my knees, while still holding him steady.

I sucked him into my mouth.

His whole body tensed. It stopped. Froze. I started to wonder if I'd done something wrong, but then he let a long groan, followed by "fuck, warm—Bella—you didn't have to—holy…Umg…fuck—love you—amazing—love—fuck."

So I continued moving up and down on him, using mouth muscles that I'd never used before, and tasting his foreign yet still familiar flavor—and I was still meandering along the path of my own disbelief as I acknowledged that of all of the various sexual acts—I'd never fantasized about this one before. I hadn't. Yes, I had thought about it, but I'd never actually imagined it.

But I was enjoying it.

Because I was enjoying Edward. His reactions. His groans. His loss of control. I liked how he'd completely surrendered to me, and I was in control. I was giving him this.

And he just had to lie back and take it.

And then he really tensed.

His stomach muscle as well as the cock in my mouth.

And he muttered out something that sounded like "warn—you—gonna—."

But I gripped him harder.

Because that was the original point of this.

No messiness.

Just loveliness.

And then I felt the warm fluid shoot into my mouth.

I swallowed as quickly as I could.

Because it was a bit odd.

But sorta hot, too.

And then it was over, and Edward slumped down on the wall, so that his eyes were level with mine.

Just-sexed Edward—the hair, the flushed face—was a fine thing.

"I love you," he said.

I just smiled at him.

It was a very cocky smile.

~ * ~

Our round of detentions finished up that week.

And I was actually a bit sad.

But my drawings and our passing of notes did not. I was getting quite good at drawing flowers with the full range of emotion-y faces. Smiley. Frowny. Horny (always a winking devil). There was no doubt that Edward brought out my baser nature—even in my kindergarten-quality art sketches.

But in other ways, too, e.g. I started wearing skirts on my own volition. Alice teased me about this, but I ignored her because I was tripping on my own brand of first love and ever-present Edward fingers.

Edward fingers…

Edward played the piano for me and wrote me silly poems. Horny, dumb silly poems.

Which got me worked up.

Which brought out my "baser nature."

Which brought out his.

Which resulted in some untoward behavior in Biology class. So I actually found myself in detention again less than two weeks after the last one had finished up. I had to make a real effort to stop him from doing something to try and join me. I eventually convinced him to go for a run.

But, now, here I was.

And I was bored.

And so I started scribbling down silly-horniness, too.

Bella's Detention Drivel, No. 1

He fingered me in the parking lot.
He stroked me under my desk.
He rubbed his fingers 'round my clit.
And what'd I cry? - "Fuck, YES."

Mr. Banner didn't understand
He threw me in detention
But I don't give a flying fuck
'Cause Ed relieved my tension.

Up the tree and through the window
My dear Edward came
Talented fingers and ten minutes later
And I did the same.

Said he'd play a melody.
Laid me across his grand
Right hand played the piano
Leftie answered my demand

He fingered me on the bus
He fingered me in his Volvo

Fuck me but I can't say no.
So, on he goes.
On we go.
Oh. Oh. Ohhhh….

I set down my pen.

I gave a huff as I realized that I needed to go splash cold water on my face.

~ * ~

When detention was over, I headed straight home, knowing that Edward would be there soon.

I was almost gleefully looking forward to showing him my poem—because I knew it would make him laugh, but I also knew it would lead to other things… so I was flustered, and I had to find things to keep myself busy as I waited.

I hopped on my computer and began replying to emails from Renee—and Jacob. I still refused to physically talk to Jake—I was still irked with him—well, admittedly, not really, not anymore. I was a bit too happy to keep it up for much longer. I'd probably have to call him soon.

And he had saved gnome, who was sitting happily on my dresser.

I had just clicked the send button on Jake's email, when the phone rang.

I scrambled down the stairs to get it, thinking it would either be 1. Edward calling to tell me he was running late 2. Charlie asking what was for dinner or 3. Alice trying to bug me into shopping.

But it was none of those.

I picked up the phone, greeting "hello."

And then the voice spoke.

It was the voice I had never wanted to hear again.

~ * ~

~ * ~

You clever ones can probably guess which frayed plot thread is getting woven back in.

So, yeah, let me know...

Review!