By the time the movie is finished, Edward is asleep, which amuses me considering how eager he'd been to watch it. I lean in close, so close that my mouth brushes his ear when I speak.
"Rise and shine!"
Not so much speak as yell.
He jolts awake, almost knocking me off the couch with the force of his movements. Before I can topple over, he quickly wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his lap and safely away from the floor, for which I'm grateful.
"That was," he pauses and yawns, "extremely unkind of you, Bella."
I smile innocently.
"I was just rousing you from your sleep so that you can get a good night's rest tonight. It was actually rather generous of me to do you that service."
He narrows his eyes at me, and I can't help the laugh that bubbles from my lips.
"You're in an awfully precarious position to be teasing me," he warns, then almost drops me down onto the floor, illiciting an indelicate squeal as I struggle in his arms.
"That's what I thought," he says smugly and it's my turn to glare at him.
"You're nowhere near as funny as you think you are," I huff. He just rolls his eyes and settles me closer to him on his lap, leaving almost negligible space between us, not that it particularly bothers me.
"So what did you think of the movie?" I ask solemnly, both of us well aware that he slept through the majority of it. The fingers of one of my hands comb through the hair at his nape as I ask this, and he leans into it in a fashion that reminds me of Checker.
"It was brilliant," he responds distractedly, "a revelation in film, blah blah blah. Come here."
He leans in quickly and kisses me, and my fingers tighten in his hair as I move closer. I hum gently when he shifts us, laying me out across the couch with his body inclined over me. I release his hair, settling my arms around his increasingly large biceps, then slide them up around his neck to pull him closer as lips and tongues meet in their familiar dance.
What starts as leisurely kissing soon increases in pace as affection gives way to desire, our shirts making a small pile on the floor as they fall together. I wrap my injured leg around his thigh, taking care so as not to brush it against anything accidentally and he drops from his hands to his elbows so that our newly bared chests are touching.
No words are exchanged, just soft hums and low moans, ragged breaths and heavy exhalations as we get as close as we can, but somehow, not remotely close enough.
Slowly - too slowly, because he's worried I'll have one of my bouts of insanity - he slides the hand that is resting on my knee up my thigh, over my hipbone and up my stomach, until it's gently rubbing my ribcage. I arch my back to bring his hand closer to try and convince him that I'm fine without having to stop kissing him and speak, and thankfully he gets the message, moving his hand up to graze the underside of my breast.
Thank god.
I moan, just a little bit, giving more wordless encouragement. He mirrors it with a quiet one of his own and my lips quirk up in victory as my hands drift from his neck down the newly acquired contours of his back muscles. All his working out has done more than just curb his temper. My wondering hands then drift under him, along his abs and belly, trailing through a small but promisingly named happy trail until they are impeded on their travels by his belt buckle.
He gasps a little when I reach it and his hands momentarily pause on their palming of my chest.
Thoroughly encouraged by his reaction, I begin to undo the belt... and fail miserably. My hands fumble with it, trying in vain to pull it from the loops of his jeans so that I can get the wretched thing undone. When he reaches down I worry that he's going to put a stop to things, but he effortlessly slides the belt open, allowing me the small satisfaction of getting his button fly undone myself, even if it is a little clumsy.
As my hand slides under the waistband of his jeans, I abruptly realise that we haven't done this before, and my hands hesitate, something which doesn't go unnoticed by Edward. He pulls his lips from mine, slides them along my cheek until they're at my ear and I can feel his breath on my skin, making my shudder slightly.
"We don't have to do this," he murmurs, his voice barely louder than a breath as he misreads my hesitance for discomfort.
"I think we do," I mumble back, my words muffled by the skin of his neck as I kiss him, letting my tongue flick out before I pull back. I slide my hand out of his jeans and move it to his hips, making clear my desire to get them off as soon as possible. He pulls his hands from my body and helps, my feet taking over once they reach his knees.
Unencumbered by the constricting denim, my hands move easily back to their previous position, my fingers sliding along the edge of the elastic of his boxer briefs then underneath, across the skin between his hip bones, and then down further until I reach my target.
He grunts low, his mouth trailing across my neck and chest as I wrap my hand around the base of him, stroking up slowly and then back down. With a twist of my arm he's freed from his boxers and I can finally see him- the only part of him I've never seen before. When his lips leave my skin, I force my eyes from the lower half of his body up to his face, only to see him studying me.
Worrying... always worrying, even now.
Rather than tell him that everything is more than ok, I crane my neck up to kiss him, taking the lead as I quicken my strokes.
"Are you sure you - oh, shit. Fuck, that's good."
I very nearly laugh out loud at his quick change in attitude, but there are more pressing and infinitely more appealing matters at hand. His hand slides into my shorts and all of a sudden I can barely think because he's touching me everywhere lovely and I can hardly remember my own name or keep any kind of regular pace to my strokes.
Push and pull, give and take - our rhythm is uneven and unpracticed, but neither one complains and I know that I for one wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
As our movements speed and our brains cloud over with the need for more of anything - everything - our kisses wane, lips brushing halfheartedly between gasping breaths and moans, almost as though they are magnetized. Even if we are not focused, even if we are completely consumed by other, even more wonderful things, they seek each other still.
Just more proof how how real our bond is.
Strokes - both mine on him, and his against my wet skin - become messy, erratic and frantic as we both barrel towards what we both crave so desperately. My back arches, pushing my chest closer to his as though my entire being is yearning for him and my hand tightens around his length, pulling firmer and faster and doing anything to illicit the deep groan of my name that I love.
"Holy fuck, Bella. That's so... fuck."
That's the one.
I groan in response, so absorbed by my task and the sensations he's bringing out in me that I can't even attempt to get a word past my lips.
His mouth falls against my throat, hot breaths interspersed between wet kisses and quick nips at no regular pace or rhythm. My free arm is locked around his shoulder, my fingers in his hair as I pull him closer and closer but never close enough. I frantically wish for more limbs, or any way that I could draw him into me further because having him over me like this, being with him this way, is so addictive that I can scarcely imagine any other alternative.
With a twist of his fingers my entire body starts to shake, curving inwards and upwards and seeking him out in any and every capacity. Fingers tighten in his hair, breathing becomes impossible and unnecessary as something so much more important consumes me. My hand falls from his length as my task is momentarily abandoned, fireworks and white lights and everything wonderful flashing behind my eyes as heady, overwhelming, so-perfect-it-almost-feels-painful ecstacy rolls through me, running from a place deep in my soul right through to the very tips of my fingers.
Eternity seems to pass in a split second.
When I can finally get my eyes open, Edward is looking at me, a combination of awe and smugness... and desperation. With a lazy smile, I reach out for him again, and in a matter of several firm strokes he's following me off the abyss, my name on his lips and his teeth at my throat. The slight sting they illicit is an oddly pleasant counterpoint to my orgasm, hurting in all the right ways when they dig into my skin just a little.
He moves his face back to mine and kisses me gently and I realise that there is something warm, wet and kind of gross on my stomach. Giggling awkwardly, I reach blindly for the table, hoping for a box of tissues to materialise in my palm. Edward looks at me, confused.
"What are you - Oh."
He laughs himself and picks up his t-shirt, holding it up in a silent offer. I reach for it, but instead of giving it to me, he starts wiping my stomach, an action that is bizarrely sweet considering what it is he's wiping off of me.
"Thanks," I murmur, feeling a little self-conscious as he finishes cleaning me up.
"The pleasure was all mine, I assure you," he teases, kissing me again to try and diffuse my silly insecurity. Slightly peturbed by his unsavory joke, I shove at his chest, doing nothing to move him. Instead, he just laughs at me more, dotting quick kisses all over my face and neck as I continue to struggle against him.
Once we're both redressed - him sans shirt - he informs me that he is hungry, so we relocate to the kitchen for me doing perform what he describes as 'my womanly duty to feed him', earning him a sharp smack to his bare stomach and a short period of time doubled over as the sting dissolves.
I perform my 'womanly duty' with a smug smile on my face as he rubs his hand across his belly, wincing while he takes a seat at the kitchen island.
"I hope it was worth it," I annouce as I place a plate holding a sandwich in front of him. He holds up his finger and takes a huge bite, then nods.
"Worth it," he garbles out around the obscene mouthful of food. I roll my eyes and sit down next to him with my own food, jumping as he pulls my chair closer to his so that our legs are touching while we eat. I allow this, enjoying the contact more than I let on, but refuse him when he tries to kiss me in gratitude with his mouth still full.
He swallows, then pouts at me.
"So what, you have your way with me then you're done?"
I just nod, chewing casually. He holds his bare hand up to his chest, looking crestfallen.
"Oh... I see how it is."
He averts his eyes as he mimes wiping a tear from his face and I end up choking as I laugh and try to swallow at the same time.
"You'll break my heart, Bella Swan, and you won't even realise."
I giggle again, trying as hard as I possibly can not to let on that if anything, the reverse of what he said will be true. While my feelings for him are no longer based on that scary, overwhelming, consuming fear, they are now based on something even scarier.
Love.
AN: Awwww, look at them go, passing bases and being in love. Adorable.
Also, I read an unbelievable fic last week that i want you guys to have a look at, and review because it has nowhere near enough.
House of Cards by therunaway1 tells the story of Bella, who despite being in love with her best friend Edward, sets him up with her friend Kate. It is a heartfail and a half, having induced stomach aches, tears and angry shouting from me as Bella and Edward stumble around trying to do the right thing and hurting each other almost to the point of no return.
Check it out, it definitely carries my seal of approval... whatever that's worth.
Next up, you ask? EPOV.