Edward's lips were over hers, and his body too, the regular slide of it making her insides tremble.
When he moved his kisses to her cheek, and then her neck, she moaned, hands trying to dig into his ribs.
"I said we'd try," he breathed, "but you have to tell me if I hurt you."
"I will."
"Promise me." His hips hadn't stopped moving, and she arched her back, seeking the press of his body.
"I promise," she husked out.
Then he was in her, a flame of pleasure rippling up the centre of her body. Lips together again, they clung to each other, the rhythm of their movement building with the mounting sensations.
She closed her eyes, finding the beginning of the path their bodies sought. It was beautiful, and gentle, and intense, seducing every piece of her flesh.
And then suddenly, it wasn't, Edward's motion too much, the pain flaring in her back.
Opening her eyes, Jun's bloody irises were over her, and his mouth, open and violent, lunging at her.
The scream that started in her dream erupted from her waking mouth.
"Bella?"
She was half off the bed, hands outstretched, trying to move her back from the pain snarling in it. The movement was futile, and the hurt only travelled with her.
"It was just a dream. You're safe."
She nodded, wincing, her breathing not helping with the war erupting in her muscles.
"Come lean against me, it'll take the pressure off your back." His arms were open to her.
Struggling onto her knees, she curled against him, as he leaned against the headboard, resting his hands on the flames in her back. The relief was immediate.
After a moment, he asked, "better?"
Her breathing was still shaky. "Yes."
"Nightmare?"
She nodded, hoping he didn't ask her to explain it.
"It's almost time for more of your medication," he murmured. He was reaching for the food he'd set on the side table, offering her the plate.
When she went to move, he shook his head. "Just stay there, it's OK."
It was awkward, nibbling on crackers as she leaned over him. "I'm getting crumbs all over you."
"Not a problem. I can handle some crumbs," he chuckled.
She grinned a little, taking the pills he offered and the water.
"What happened in your dream?"
While he couldn't see her face, he could certainly hear her heartbeat tick faster.
"It's OK if you don't want to talk about it." This was soft and whispered.
"I'd rather not," she hushed back.
"OK." He let his own head rest against hers, their chins nestled the dips of each other's shoulders.
She went back to sleep that way.
He had a very good idea of what she'd dreamed about. Her movements, and the way she'd said his name were clear indicators.
Then she'd woken up screaming.
He thought, reluctantly, about Jun again, and what he'd heard at the hospital that night. Had it been more than she'd said? These wonderings, married with the murky flickers of memory he'd seen in Jun's mind, left him with a multitude of dark possibilities. None of them confirmed.
Perhaps she'd be willing to talk about it in the daylight.
Perhaps not.
But if they wanted to take that next step, he needed her to trust him. And he her.
At least, he thought, the sound hadn't woken Charlie. It would've been the last thing she needed, having him find his daughter in Edward's arms. In bed. Regardless of the circumstances.
No, the Forks' Chief of Police slept soundly downstairs, the rumble of his snores percolating up through the heating vents.
Charlie's departure in the morning was preceded by a quiet, and uneventful breakfast with Bella, eaten up in Edward's room. Convinced she was in good hands, he'd given her a soft hug, and told her to call him more often.
"Love you, Dad," she husked out, surprised by her emotionality.
"Love you too," he'd responded, and then left, before he could get any gushier.
The several Cullens disappeared to their various appointed charades, Edward staying with Bella.
"Don't you have class to attend?" she asked. She knew he did, just not when or where.
"Sure. Why?"
"Aren't you going to go to them?"
He shrugged. "Don't really need to. I've taken most of them before."
She chuckled. "OK."
"They were just there to fill time when we weren't together. Mission accomplished."
"But I thought you needed them to help Carlisle?"
"Oh, I do, but I just need to submit the paper and show up for the exams."
She rolled her eyes. "Must be nice."
"No," he said, "being here with you is nice." Then he leaned over and kissed her.
She returned the pressure, feeling her stomach melt into a liquid pleasure that oozed outwards from her centre.
The kisses continued, bodies growing closer, hands loose and wild over shoulders and ribs and hips.
Laying on her back wasn't an option, so he flipped onto his own, lifting her onto his stomach. A solid presence kept her from slipping back onto his legs.
She couldn't help it, blushing, feeling it.
Without comment, Edward turned her onto her other side, tangling the two scissor shapes of their legs together.
The blush only intensified, every time the space between their hips brushed together.
Finally, he paused, head resting on his hand, elbow making the mattress dip beside her own.
"Did I misconstrue something?"
"No," she said, shaking her head.
"Then what's wrong?"
Her breathing hitched up. "I'm nervous," she said. "We had such...limits before. I'm just...getting used to the idea. It's...intimidating."
"Intimidating?" His eyebrows were halfway to his hair.
She nodded. "You're a vampire," she said. "Perfect. I'm...human. Most definitely not perfect."
"You're my version of perfect, Bella."
"Flatterer."
"Not," he whispered, kissing her neck, making her gasp, "flattery." The movement pressed the aroused part of his body into her leg, and she started.
Backing away, he said, "What's really bothering you?"
She said nothing.
"Maybe you can start by telling me about your dream last night." He played with a strand of her hair, twirling it lightly around his finger. "I think it had something to do with something like what we were just doing." He kept his voice soft.
She stiffened at the words, and then swallowed.
"I love you, Bella. Nothing is going to scare me away. Not leaving. Ever."
Her face had transformed, now pale and taut with worry.
She pushed it out, before fear made her swallow it again. "I'm afraid something bad will happen when we make love, and you will leave."
She hadn't said what she thought would happen.
He made himself be calm, still toying with that same strand of hair. "And what are you afraid will happen?"
Her forehead wrinkled.
"Please, Bella. I want to know. I'm not leaving, no matter what the answer. I promised we would try, but I need you to be honest. Please."
She sat up, picking up the glass of water by the bed, taking a long drink. When she set it back down, her hand trembled, and the base of the cup rattled against the wood surface.
"I'm afraid it will hurt, because it did before."
Her movement had forced Edward to let go of her. He was glad now, because his hands clenched. The force in them would have crushed her.
Now he made himself brush the back of his hand against her forearm. "You would tell me if you were uncomfortable, wouldn't you?" he asked.
She nodded.
"And I would stop if I thought I was going to hurt you, Bella."
Her breathing was easier.
Then he smiled. "Ready for some bad humour?" He squeezed her hand gently. "Once bitten, twice shy?"
It worked.
She squeezed her face shut with a pained groan, and leaned into him, chuckling. "Terrible. Awful vampire puns." But the laugh continued, rocking both their bodies together.
When she looked up at him, it was to find his own gaze waiting for her, their lips now exchanging more than words.
He'd held onto his desires for her for so long, the recent loosening had made it even slipperier, and he found his hands straying to the space just under her breasts, teasing the sensitive skin under the fabric there.
"Bella, I want you, if you still want me," he hushed out.
She nodded, too overcome to even speak it.
Buttons were too slow to be undone.
There was a quiet popping, as they were decapitated from the fabric of her shirt, and then his, trousers and pants shucked off like the husks of corn.
She was beautiful, and his hands, and then his lips, paid homage to each latitude of her body, trailing down the curved meridian at her centre. When he reached her lush tropics, his lips made introductions there, making her gasp and start, hands tight in his hair. Her sounds were wordless exclamations, his name the only recognizable one.
His tongue laboured there a while, drawing things from her she hadn't known to feel before. When she was perched on a delicate cliff of pleasure, he returned his mouth to her neck, finding the space behind her ear that made her groan in new ways.
She had only brushed her hand against him as their clothes had come off, and now, able to breath again, let her hand find his intimate places.
It was his turn to take sharp breaths, hands safely away from her. He gripped the pillow, compressing the corner into a hard, fist-shaped nugget.
He fit, just, in the curve of her fingers, and she showed, with her grip, where she wanted him.
Poised at this soft place, he felt halfway off the earth, drawn into a pleasure he'd never imagined.
"I love you," he whispered.
Her hands were on his face now, and it transformed, as he entered her, stricken with awe. He made himself stop, and breathe, asking her, "you OK?"
"Amazing. You?"
He answered by kissing her, and pressing further.
The tight grip of her hands, digging into his shoulders, made him stop.
"Bella?"
"I'm OK." She was just startled by the sensation of him, hard, and cold, filling her. It was almost too much.
Almost.
"Don't stop."
He was happy not to, sliding further, watching her head fall back in pleasure as he moved.
He found the comfortable end of his movement when she twitched suddenly, and he backed away. It was torturous. His body screamed at him to ignore it, to keep going, to possess every warm inch of her. He clamped down on the urge, memorizing the precise point at which to stop, and then distracting himself with the tender buds at the culmination of her breasts, teasing them with his tongue. He trailed up and down these small hills, the rise coordinated with his movement elsewhere.
Already so aroused by his earlier work, she found herself pushed over that precipice, body spasming with a wave of sensation born around him, riding down her legs, making her toes curl in radiant pleasure.
He didn't think he could smile any wider, feeling her tremble beneath him, the beauty of her face, contorted in such joy. He let his own satisfaction be, loosening his hands from her hair, planting them in the bed covers, dismantling it just as their clothes had been.
The substance of this pleasure was fleeting. Watching her breathe heavily with her own release, smiling at him, and then feeling her kiss on his lips, he hardened again inside her.
He growled over her mouth.
"It's OK," she whispered, "I know you want to."
He moaned. It was too much. She was too much.
"Are you OK?" he made himself ask. He'd felt her stiffen, and not in pleasure, with the limits they'd found. He wanted her to say no, to tell him to stop, to make him stop. Force him to know boundaries.
To not hurt her with his want.
"Yes, I'm in heaven."
He had her on her back before he could even stop himself, or think about the pain it would cause.
The sound she made left him horrified, and suddenly limp.
"I'm OK," she tried to mouth, but it was half choked, half breathed out.
Carefully, he lifted her using his hands on her hips, resting her against his chest, draping the ripped bedspread over her.
"I'm so sorry," he said, feeling her irregular breathing against him. He'd have been white with his own mortification, if he could.
She pulled back a bit, smiling widely at him. "It's OK," she said, "you kinda made me forget I was on the earth too." Then she kissed him.
He blew out a breath, relieved she was able to smile, not quite over the horror of what he'd done.
"I really am OK," she said, hand on his cheek.
He forced himself to accept her words, nodding.
"That was amazing," she whispered, a little nervously, wondering if hadn't been for him.
He caught the tremble in her voice. "More than that," he whispered. "Beautiful. Just like you."
Her sigh of relief made his innards clench with regret. His worry had made her question what she'd offered him. He kissed her, trying to show her just how much he'd enjoyed what they'd done.
And, like it had an obstinate mind of its own, he felt himself harden again, groaning under the pressure of her naked body.
"Again," she rasped, trying to move herself over him.
This time the growl was a feral snarl, and he kept his hands at her hips, driving her down over him with a force that made her twitch. He'd gone past the carefully appointed place, but the shift in position made it tolerable, and she lost herself in this wilder possession. He made sure this joining was brief, some small part of his mind vibrantly frightened by the intensity it unleashed in his body. He loosened a hand, making his fingers tender and light at the tip of her opening.
She cried out this time, the air blown from her lungs by his own thrusts, and the emptying of herself in the tight grip of bodily gratification.
He wanted more.
Nothing could be enough of this, and he had a spasm of sudden empathy for Emmett and Rose, where he'd only known disdain before.
"Enough," he said kissing her, "or I will hurt you."
She was breathing harder now, shaking and pleasurably exhausted.
When she slid off of him, the sweet smell of her blood reached him. It was miniscule, but it made him freeze momentarily.
"Are you OK?" he made himself ask. He felt suddenly numb, the words wooden on his tongue.
"Stop asking," she said, curling at his side. "So happy." She wrapped her arms around him. "But a little worn out."
He swallowed. "You're bleeding."
She pulled back a little, blushing as she looked down. "I feel fine, and I don't see anything. Think we're good."
He made himself accept this. Whispering out an "OK," he kissed her, and focused on the warmth of her body, now tucked against his own.
Her eyelids were starting to droop against her will, and when he turned himself to give her more space, her hands panicked, grasping at him. "Don't go!"
"I'm not," he assured her with his lips, "just trying to give you more room."
"Less room," she mumbled, clawing closer, demanding the press of his body.
"Not going anywhere," he murmured, accepting the closeness, lost in the wonder of their togetherness, as she slipped into the temporary absence of sleep.