Blister in the Sun Part 2
For PTB's Smut University 2014
Prompt: Action and Reaction by LC Morgan aka Jonesn
Warnings: Some Jake and Bella semi-loving, but mostly pining for Edward. Continuation of Part 1, but it can be read as a one-shot...I think...pretty sure...
The bonfire sends sparks flying from its furious middle. They've added too much wood, too much alcohol, too many bad choices to care that the flames are dangerously close to their frail skin. He holds her a safe distance away, his arm wrapped so casually around her waist as she leans her head delicately on his shoulder.
Jake grips my hips harder, his lips wrapping around my nipple as he grunts his satisfaction against my flesh. He drives upward so hard that I have to grab onto the back shelf of the car before my face can ram into it.
"God, Bella," he says, his breath too hot for the small space. He'd found me when I'd returned from my rendezvous of voyeurism, his dark eyes laughing and needy as he grabbed my hand, tugging me into the backseat of his car.
"I want you," he'd said, pulling me on top and pushing my swimsuit aside where I was already smeared and so sensitive. "Fuck, babe. You're so wet for me."
I wanted to say that I wasn't, that I hadn't just came spectacularly with him on my mind, that I'd been watching, hoping, fantasizing of another boy, another dick pushing into me so good. But I didn't. I never do. I hide so meticulously behind this façade I've woven, loving secretly, pining for a boy who I've known for almost as long as I've been alive, because we didn't do that. Fall in love with our best friends.
Jake's fingers tangle through my hair as he pulls my head down. His lips taste like the beer he'd drank earlier, stale on my tongue as he swirls it around my mouth. It's hard to breathe with how he deep he goes, with how harsh he exhales, with how tight he holds. It's not disgusting. It never is with him. No, the disgusting part of all this is how I compare him to the one that no one could ever compare to. How can I give my heart when it was stolen so many years ago? Instead, all I have to offer is my affection. Isn't that good enough? I already know the answer. It never is.
"Are you close?" he asks, his thrusts picking up so furiously in their pace. I just know the car is rocking, groaning on its wheels, subtly calling the attention of everyone in the immediate area. There's a few of us left. A few of us playing around in the dark against a backdrop of red flames and a moving shore.
But we're all too intoxicated, fueled by the mistakes of decisions made on too-young minds, but we don't know that. We're on top of the world. Graduation is behind us and the world is in front of us. Just barely eighteen and we're ready to conquer, ready to live, ready to say goodbye to everything and everyone we know as we set about into our future.
"Come on, babe," Jake whispers, his voice urgent, trembling, desperate against my skin. "Come for me."
But he holds me back. With his eyes of green like our home where he's held me just like he holds her. Where my hand finds his familiar. Where our whispers of what's to be secretly hides in the corners of our childhood walls. Where I'm the most happy because of all the places in the world that's where I find him waiting for me with only the sounds of the waves nearby as our song. How could I ever leave the one place that brings me joy? That fills my heart?
Jake's fingers dig into my skin even more so now. I can feel him. Inside of me. Pushing against my walls as he races toward that finish. The sweat rolls down the side of his face, smearing against my cheek. "Fuck! I'm going to come!"
My friend. My best friend. He twirls her around, her hair spinning in a gentle arch as a smile blooms across her face when he pulls her back into his arms. The kiss he gives her, small and tender and filled with so much adoration, is the complete opposite of the one Jake gives me to muffle his groans as he spills himself so hot inside of me.
"I love you, Bella," he says against my neck as his fingers trace patterns across my back, following each bump of my spine as his breaths slowly begin to even out. Does he notice how my heart doesn't race? How my breaths are deep compared to his? I hope not because of all of the hearts in the world, I don't want to break his.
His hands tremble as I nod my head, and though I try so hard, opening my lips and forming the words, I can't bring myself to say them. Not tonight. Not with him so close, glancing over, that wicked smirk making an appearance on his face. Our eyes meet, but I can't tell if he truly sees me through the dark. Of how I watch him. Of how I love him. Of how I ache for that tender kiss so badly.
"Bella?"
"You too, Jake. You too." He sighs, and it almost breaks me at how he so easily gives in to my less-than feelings for him. But he hopes, he wishes, he sticks around for that maybe-one-day where we'll be equals, not where one is all consuming and the other is only half-way in.
Jake drives me home, and after I wash our indiscretions and the beach from my body, quietly taking care of my needs, mindful of my sleeping parents nearby. When I'm so clean that I can almost forget about a touch that wasn't his, I climb into the tree house between our homes. The waves dance against the shore, creating a melody of soft through the peeling paint of the interior. It's in that bleached green that we wrote our secrets and wishes which have faded and peeled along with their dwellings over time.
It's torturous watching him be with other girls who are not me, but how do you transition from best friend into lover? How do you attempt that without risking the friendship that you know you couldn't live without? No, my place is here, with my own mind, my own imagination, pretending it's me and not them.
It's my hand that he would grab, that gentle tilt of his lips pulling me in so deep as the fire dances in his eyes. He'd say, "Just follow me."
I'd say, "Always."
And the air would swirl in my ears, the wind against my face, the rush making my eyes water as my grin bursts with the laughter flowing from my mouth as he twirls me around with only the red glow from the flames to light our way. And when the earth seemed so unsteady on its axis, when my balance depended so precariously on him, he'd pull me into his arms, sweeping me up against his chest as he whispers his affection into my skin.
First against my neck where my pulse beats so rapidly, then against my cheek where I'm already so flushed with the exhilaration he brings me, and finally against my lips where I readily await his taste, so sweet against my tongue as we share an entirely different dance all together.
It hurts down below, where I'm pulsing with my thoughts, and it's strange how I could be turned on so good by a simple kiss that has never even happened more than by my boyfriend's touches from earlier this night. I can't help it when I find myself on my back, staring at the wood with our names carved into it in jagged letters. My fingers are too small, too cold, too smooth against my wet flesh, but they've been my constant companion these last few years when he has occupied my mind.
I dip and swirl and press against that bundle of nerves near the top, just like we would dance in front of the bonfire, knowing my body better than the only boy who has ever touched me. I hold my sighs back, knowing that the walls of this tree house are so easily broken into by sound. But it's my breaths, harshly inhaling and exhaling through my nose and then my mouth when I can't seem to get enough air, that echoes so loudly against the wood. And when I push one finger and then two inside, re-familiarizing myself with dips and curves and textures hardly ever explored, my worlds fades around me, right along with the peeling green walls, replaced by brilliant verdant so dark above me.
His hands would be gentle on my skin, but hard enough to move, reposition, manipulate me into what feels amazing. His fingers against my thighs with my calves on his shoulders. Pressing into my hips while my knees and palms press into the wood below. Holding me still as he thrusts up, driving himself deeper into me as I stare down. Pushing my knees higher so that my ankles cross together against his lower back as he slides against my front with his hips so slowly bringing us to completion. His face right there, parallel with mine, our eyes searching each other's, finding that love, as we share a kiss just before falling over that edge.
The air is salty on my tongue as I gasp for it, trapped in my throat, my body tensing, my legs stretching, my back arching as everything feels so good. His touch from his fingers, his palms, his lips, ghost over my skin, forcing a feel-good tremble from my body as I shake with my satisfaction, my desire, because even just the made-up version of his loving makes me feel alive. I barely remember to pull my sticky fingers from my shorts as I roll onto my side, gliding my wetness against the wood where I lay. That's how he finds me, his steps gentle against the ladder as his head pops in through the door.
He's hardly visible through the gentle moonlight, but I know it's him. "Edward?"
"Hey. Did I wake you?"
"No, I was just drifting off." If only he knew the kind of drifting I was just doing.
"Cool." He smiles as he crawls over, closing the distance between us, his arm wrapping over my shoulders and grabbing at my musky hand. He smells clean, like the soap he's been using since the start of high school, and I'm glad that he's washed her off of him, and then with minty breath, he says, "Goodnight, Baby Bell."
I whisper back, "Night, Eddie Boy."
He holds me for a second longer and I think that he' going to kiss me, even if it is just on my cheek, and then, just like I know it will always be him, he pulls away, rolling onto his side with sleepy eyes closed tight. One day and one day soon, this boy I love is going to leave me behind.