Happy Birthday, Sandi!

I hope it was fabulous.

I wanted to write something fresh for LJSummer's birthday, but since I broke my hand two days ago, writing isn't easy.

This was a scene I cut from the end of the first scene of Chapter Nine: Beaujolais.

"You're not going to hurt it," he says, as if reading my thoughts.

"Well, not if you show me."

He tries to put my hand on his penis, but I pull it away.

"That's not what I meant."

"What, are you asking for a demonstration?"

"If you don't mind."

He wraps his hand around his shaft and starts to pump it up and down, twisting his wrist on each downward stroke. It's fascinating until I look up at his face, and as curious as I am about what's going on in his hand, but I can't tear my eyes away. His movements are making the muscles in his arms flex, and he moans each time he exhales. He smiles when he sees me looking, and I'm not sure if he's more into getting himself off or the fact that I'm watching him do so. It doesn't matter; his face is beautiful regardless.

"I'm close," he says, reaching for a tissue with his spare hand.

"Do it on me," I say, taking the tissue away from him.

"Huh?"

"I want it," I insist. "On me. Please."

Almost instantly, he closes his eyes and lets out a long moan. The white liquid on my thighs is warm and thick. For a while, I just stare at it—not because it's cum, but because of who it came from and what that means. Everything that makes him Edward is sitting there on my skin. In this way, at least, he's given me all of himself. I want to hold onto it, to know him completely. Impulsively, I wipe it with my fingers and bring them into my mouth, surprised it tastes bitter even though I shouldn't be. Alice had once likened the taste of jizz to "Killian's Red that had been left out in the sun for days and served warm", I thought Edward's would taste better. The reality is that it's every bit as nasty as she claimed, but that doesn't matter to me because it's his.

Then I see the way he's looking at me, and it makes me feel like a freak.

"Sorry," I say, staring at his comforter. "I guess you think I'm kind of weird–"

"No. Look at me, Isabella." His eyes are glossier than usual, with dilated pupils which only make the shade of green more intense. "You telling me you wanted my cum was the hottest thing I'd ever seen...well, until you tasted it."

"Hot?"

"Yes."

"Me?"

"Yes."

I laugh; I can't it help it.

"What's so funny?"

"I never thought I'd meet a guy who liked awkward–"

I stop talking. I have to; he's kissing me. Soon I'm on my back, and he's covering my body with his. The heat of his skin warms me through the thin cotton of my borrowed t-shirt, and though it's so much it isn't nearly enough. I tighten my arms around him, raising my pelvis to meet his. With only my panties separating my yin from his yang, he pushes against me as we kiss. Dizzy and starting to tingle, I shift my hips to the side.

"That's it," he moans.

His face is every bit as beautiful this time as it was before.