A/N: Okay, so this wasn't an easy one to write. I had to make it "them". If it makes sense. They banter and bicker, and they talk too much. Incorporating it into sex was kinda...how-ya-going. But there it is. Also, anyone who knows me knows I do not get explicit. There are just some things I refuse to write.
This chapter is presently unedited. Kim's busy right now. I'll switch it over when she gets it done. This is me in all my unmitigated imperfection ;)
Thanks to StarryEyedWriter8 for being a super awesome pre-reader and always loving on every word I write.

I have a new story 8 chapters in that I'll be posting after this one wraps up. It's vamp with the roles reversed. Edward is the human, and Bella the vamp and she is not partial to teenage boys of his calibre. She's also emphatically not a vegetarian.

Hoodwinked

Chapter 21

"You cleaned your room?" I point out what's right before me in complete surprise. Okay, it's probably closer to shock because I'm fairly certain this is the first time I've ever fully seen his floorboards.

"That obvious?" Edward jokes in return, and grabbing my hand he pulls me beside him on the edge of his just as equally neat, and made, bed.

"I should take a photo." I nudge him with my shoulder as his grin inches broader for a moment before it falls. He appears almost as nervous as I am, but I must be misreading him. "What?" I quiz.

"Nothing," he says simply, hauling himself back to his feet. Then making his way to his dresser he rummages around in the top drawer for a moment; eventually finding what he was looking for. "Hey?" He turns around, displaying the plastic zip-lock back holding at least half a dozen rolled joints inside.

"You got more?"

"I got more." His smile returns, and he's pretty pleased with himself.

"Okay...but will you hate me if I tell you I want to go straight?" I confess, almost shying away from him.

"What...?" he asks blankly. "You sure?" He sure as hell isn't.

"Positive. I don't want to do it because I'm under the influence of anything," I explain myself, as he nods in obvious understanding.

"We'll have one after." He winks, and I almost laugh.

"Okay." It's not a bad idea. Especially if I end up crying like my mother seems to think will happen.

Dropping the bag on the top of his dresser, he sits back beside me. "You gonna tell me now?" he asks, curling his arm around my waist.

I take a breath and release it, smiling to myself as I do. It's funny how and when recollection hits. The instant I saw Edward in the foyer of my house that one memory came flooding back; the real reason why he continued calling me snotface. I can't believe I forgot about it, but then, I lost sight of a lot of things. Something the boy I always thought would torment me until my dying breath never did.

I was nine and he was eleven, and it was the summer following the inception of snotface. He, Alice and I were playing in his backyard throwing water balloons at each other. I was wearing the little red bikini I got for Christmas, and Edward teased me to no end over it; that's how the water bombing began. We eventually stopped for a refill when he pointed the hose straight at my face, at point blank range, and sprayed me with tap water. I almost choked, and he of course, laughed.

I ended up in tears, and promptly went home. He followed ten minutes later, standing reluctantly in the middle of my room, as I hid from him inside my closet; the door cracked open ajar.

"You gonna come out?" he asked, sounding as remorseful as eleven-year-old Edward could be, bare-chested in nothing but his board shorts. He was so scrawny back then. All arms, legs and hair.

"No!" I sobbed. "You're a bully and I hate you."

"Geez..." he mumbled and I watched as he lowered his head and ran his hand back through his wayward hair. While it's tamer now, back then it strayed in directions that appeared to defy logic. "I didn't mean to."

"Yes, you did."

"Snotface—"

"Bella!" I corrected him.

"I like snotface better."

"I don't like you. At all."

"Come on..."

"No. Go away or I'll call my dad."

"If you do, I'll tell him you call me shithead," he countered not sounding too concerned about it.

"I'll tell your dad you say 'fuck'—all the time."

"You just said it." He was verging on laughter, but then he always did appear to get great amusement out of me.

"Shut up."

"Snotface..."

"BELLA!" I screeched.

"I told you, I like snotface."

"Go away."

"Not until you come out."

"I'll come out if you stop calling me snotface."

"You're the only one I call snotface."

"So?"

"It's 'cause I like you."

"...What?" I was immediately confused before pulling open the sliding door a fraction wider. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Yeah, it does. If I call you snotface then only you'll know I like you. Okay?"

"You like me?" I peered up at him as uncertainty overran me. I didn't even understand the implications of it at that age, just that I liked the idea of it. Very much.

"Yeah. Wanna get married again?" He was teasing me, I realised.

"We're not babies anymore," I replied begrudgingly.

"Just come on," he muttered with a sigh, and reaching through the opening of my wardrobe he grabbed my hand and pulled me out. "Stop whinging, will ya. You're such a girl."

"I am a girl!" I shoved him as he broke into a broad grin. "What do you mean you like me?"

He shrugged. "You're my favourite girl."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so if I ever stop calling you snotface then you'll know you're not. Alright?"

I grinned broadly. So broadly my cheeks ached with it. "Okay."

"You never stopped calling me it," I murmur more or less to myself as my eyes fall to his bare floor while I wonder again how the hell, I could have forgotten so much.

"I knew you remembered," he replies, the smile obvious in his voice as he rests his chin to the top of my head. "If you apologise I'll grab your tits," he pre-empts me.

I break into a smile and nudge him again. "I'm not going to apologise."

"I reckon you were."

"Will you shut up?" I look up and meet his gaze. I'm not serious, though; I love him to death.

His smile is back before it falls again—for a different context this time. "We need to just get on with it or it'll start to get awkward."

"What? —oh. God, you're romantic," I say wryly.

"It's true." His smile almost becomes charming as he curls his arm around my shoulders. "I like this," he adds, tugging lightly on the collar of my dress.

"I thought you might."

"You on the pill yet?" he asks, changing the subject and completely taking me aback.

"What? I am—didn't I tell you?"

"No," he answers, and not only does he sound surprised, but impressed.

"I got it a couple of days ago, but we still have to wait a month."

"I'm aware of that," he mumbles, smiling to himself this time—at my expense again.

"Stop it."

"I'll take care of it 'til then."

"Don't knock me up," I'm adamant, but it's a complete cover. It's about to happen and my emotions are becoming compromised by the reality of it.

"I'm not going to knock you up," he says drolly, but he's not fooled; he can see straight through me. "What's wrong? —you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Sure?" he presses, raising his brows and bringing the smile automatically back to my lips.

"Positive."

"All right then shut up."

"...What?"

"If we keep talking it'll be midnight and we'll still be sitting here." He smirks, as I whack him this time.

"Well, you shut up and kiss me."

He does.

I expect him to tell me to kiss him first, but he doesn't. Cupping his palm to my cheek he leans in and plants his lips to mine, and for the next several minutes it's all we do. And I'm right back where we left off.

It's the perfect sign I'm ready because I never even got to half this point with Mike; nor did I want to. With Edward it's so easy to let go; to put my faith in him and let myself relax. If that's even possible right now.

My mind immediately starts to race, but I keep my focus, my senses, on the absolute present; on the feel of his lips against mine, his open mouth, his arms around me, his fingers pressing into my flesh, and his tongue... I don't react to it like I have been the last week. He's taking me so far down with him that I don't even realise it. Until, I do, and then I start wondering why the hell I ever told him to stop because this shithead sure knows how to kiss. I find myself wishing I'd just shut up and let him do this to me from the start, but then my thoughts are becoming erratic and slightly overrun.

That's when I break off.

"What's the matter?" he asks, pulling back long enough to meet my eyes, as concern swims in his.

I shake my head and attempt to catch my breath. I feel almost dizzy until I realise every square inch of my flesh is tingling and it's doing a lot more than surprising me. "I... I don't know...what I'm doing..." I sound just as incoherent as I feel and because Edward knows me, he knows my cues a thousand times better than I know his, he laughs. It's rustic and tinged with warmth, and I close my eyes and join him.

"Jesus, you're funny," he replies, planting his lips to mine briefly, before they trail down the side of my neck; his fingers already onto the second button of my dress.

"You're...making me lose my head," I openly admit, only for his laughter to increase and saturate my skin.

"I'm going to make you lose a lot more in a moment," he promises, his voice low and gravelly before his mouth is back against mine.

I think I moan into it, I'm not sure, but as I struggle to hold onto what's left of my breath, I'm losing everything else. Every single one of my previously held onto inhibitions. Now I just want them gone, all of them, and I want Edward to take them from me. I want him to touch me all over, to see me completely naked; I want him to cross those boundaries I've kept in place just for him.

It's not that I have to ask him. He has half the buttons of my dress undone, and as he slides a hand beneath my bra it slips from my shoulders. But he's as all over the place as I am. There's no order or symmetry like I thought there'd be. It's rushed and almost without direction, but I'm pretty certain—from my mother's sex manuals—that's what foreplay is all about.

My dress falls to my waist, and I'm uncertain whether I stand up or whether Edward pulls me up, but as I get to my feet it drops to the floor. I step over it, and as Edward clumsily kicks off his shoes I unbutton his shirt, and then help him with his jeans.

I'm acting on impulse alone, on what my body's feeling and the sensation of his, because the pace is moving a lot faster than I was anticipating and my mind is not even close to catching up. I'm aware of it, though, of everything, and it doesn't occur to me to panic. To get bent out of shape, as Edward would usually say.

I must be ready. More than ready. I have to be ready because my body is absolutely burning.

"Am I ready? —I'm ready, right?" I manage to get out in between my lips connecting and reconnecting with his. I should know the answer, but my brain's continuing to lag, allowing me to get completely caught up in the moment.

"You're ready," he assures me, and I realise the tenor of his voice has changed. There's no more shrewdness, no more teasing. There's a thickness to it, a choked huskiness that I don't think I've ever heard from him before.

I'm not quite 5'4, Edward's 6'2, and I'm on my toes and struggling. I keep tripping over his bare feet. It threatens to break the momentum, if we didn't both descend into laughter at least, and in the next moment he hoists me into his arms.

My bra is undone, I realise, but still hanging from my shoulders. I shrug it off and wrap my arms around his neck. His skin is hot, his breath even hotter, while his cheeks are flushed and ruddy. He looks like he's been boxing away at his punching bag for an hour, except he doesn't. This goes deeper, a lot deeper, and it's almost surreal to me that it's me, snotface, who's bringing it out in him. Irresistible, handsome shithead who could have any girl he wanted, but he wants me.

Makes no sense. At all.

"Would you shut up," he suddenly blurts.

"What?" I ask with barely enough breath to make my voice audible.

"You're over...thinking," he replies, his face practically sliding against mine.

"How can you...tell?" It's the small things I'm suddenly in tune to; like the sound and sensation of his lips pulling and merging repeatedly with mine. It makes my skin crawl in movies, but in reality, it's ridiculous how appealing it is.

"Because...I know you."

"I'm thinking a whole lot of things," I break to whisper in his ear. I feel high, and I almost have to stop and remind myself that I'm not.

"What are...you thinking?" We're suddenly on his bed, on our knees as he drops his face to the side of my neck; his hands slipping around my lower back to the waistband of my undies.

"Every...thing..." I murmur breathlessly, closing my eyes against the intensity that is my own body and how it's reacting to his. I'm not sure I can contain it, and I'm beginning to feel out of control. I'm completely drunk on him; it's the only word to describe it.

"Everything," he echoes as he drags his nose and lips up and down my neck and over my face. "Bella..."

"Hmm...?" I mumble, shivering against the feel of his almost-smooth face against mine. He smells so good, and I'm not sure whether it's the aroma of his aftershave soaked through his skin that's beginning to make me feel so compromised, but I'm becoming lightheaded. And restless.

"Do you need me to do...anything?" he asks continuing to plant his lips along my throat tenderly.

"Do anything...?" I repeat, unsure I heard him correctly, or whether I'm able to properly comprehend his words at the moment.

"Do you want me to make you come?" he clarifies, pulling back and setting his dark eyes on mine.

"How...would you do that?" I ask, biting on my bottom lips with immediate uncertainty.

He breaks into an impulsive grin, fighting off the obvious urge to laugh at me again. "Think about it, you dork," he replies in that hopelessly rustic voice as he reaches out to wipe my hair away from my face.

I pause to consider it. I'm curious, but hesitant, and my cognitive abilities are severely lacking right now. "Do...you think I need it?"

"Yeah," he answers without pause.

"...You d-don't mind?" I stammer, distracted by his heaving chest, and that little-bit-too-big length of him behind his rapidly expanding underwear.

"Of course, I don't," he says as my gaze makes its way back to his.

I'm nodding my head before I can articulate it. I'm not so sure about it but I'm more than curious. "Okay."

"Okay," he mumbles in echo, a ghost of a smile remaining on his lips as he pulls himself off his bed to his feet.

Taking my hand, he helps me to follow suit before dragging his bedding down. Then scooping me up into his arms he props me in the centre of his mattress and jumps in beside me. I'm not really certain what's about to happen, but what he does surprises me; he tugs his sheet over the two of us and pulls me back into his arms.

"...What are you...?" I begin, when it becomes obvious.

Reaching down, he clumsily takes off his underwear, and then mine; slower this time, making me conscious of his fingers grazing over my legs as he removes them. "No thinking too much, and close your eyes," he instructs me.

"Don't tease me," I warn him shoving lightly against him.

"Would you shut up and do it."

I do, and rolling the both of us to the side, he pulls me flush to him and hooks my leg over his hips. That's when I feel him hot and hard and resting against my inner thigh. I keep my focus on it, wondering how it will feel inside me, or whether it will even fit. I'm so distracted by it that I barely register Edward's hand sliding down my side and over my stomach between us. And like he did last night, the instant the tips of his fingers make contact with me I all but lurch off the bed. He doesn't stop though; he only attempts—unsuccessfully—to scoff back his laughter even as he continues.

"Stop laugh—what...how—oh my god!" Mother of God, is more accurate! I'm pretty sure what he's doing to me will give me an aneurysm, but what is beginning to erupt out of me I have no way of holding back. I immediately start to squirm—so much Edward has to practically hold me still. This is despite his barely concealed amusement over me, and the fact that he is way too expertly navigating his way around the most intimate part of my body.

If I last thirty seconds I'd be surprised. It comes quickly; a current of electricity that overruns me before I'm properly expecting it, while causing every muscle within me to seize. It spreads to every extremity, from my fingers and toes to the streaks of light behind my closed eyes until my entire body of skin is practically pulsating with it.

It's over before I'm ready, and just as I reach that peak, I'm free-falling back with it. That's when it hits me; the complete unexpected shock of it. I sit upright in Edward's bed, clutching his sheet to my chest as I come down. My lungs are heaving and I honestly feel like I've just lost a large percentage of my brain cells.

"I... How... How... How the fuck have I been missing out on that all this time?! Holy shit!" I burst to no one in particular and just as Edward bursts in laughter.

I turn to him, the width of my smile immediately mirroring his as I become increasingly aware of just how fluid and completely ignited I'm suddenly feeling. I feel like I could melt into him, and that maybe I am.

"Jesus, Bella..." Edward says, continuing to chuckle to himself, and pulling me to him, he rolls me on my back. Moving himself over me, he plants a knee between my legs, and following his lead I curl them both around him. "Please tell me that wasn't the first time you've had an orgasm?"

"No, I had one in my sleep once..." I admit, breaking his gaze self-consciously.

"You serious?" I'm not sure he believes me. Though, I have no idea why.

"My mother introduced it to me when I was twelve—complete with sex manual. I was traumatised!" I explain, only for him to descend into laughter again.

He drops his face to the crook of my neck as he attempts to pull himself together, but his amusement by me seems to be winning out.

"Can you stop laughing?" In all honesty, I'm trying not to laugh with him, and I'm actually riding up that peak again; something I didn't even know was possible. Yet, anyway.

"I can't help it," he says, his voice muffled against my skin as the heat of his breath begins to make me twitch. It's not something I can help, though. I feel almost statically charged. "You keep shocking the hell out of me, booger," he adds, before I feel the sensation of his heated lips against my flesh, and then again, and just like that the medium shifts within him again; something I immediately echo.

We're back to kissing, and nothing more, until Edward slowly moves his body directly between mine. That's when I start to get jittery because I can feel him digging directly into me and I'm suddenly not very confident he'll fit. It's another emotion added to the recent fray making me feel suddenly overloaded, and I'm not quite sure how to process it. I'm as eager as I am uncertain, but I can't stop myself from tensing. And Edward's becoming aware of it.

"Bella..." he completely severs his lips from mine and pulls back to meet my gaze again. "Just relax." His voice is gentle, and maybe a little worried.

I nod quickly, releasing my bated breath as I do. "I'm fine," I assure him. I am. I'm not. I'm ready. If three things could exist simultaneously, they'd be it.

He smiles again, but there's more to it this time. It's almost how he used to smile at me; when we were kids, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.

"Just do it—before I freak out completely," I suddenly appeal to him.

His breath shoots from his nose as if he's going to laugh again, but he doesn't. "Okay, but you might want to breathe first. You keep holding it in."

"I know..." I sigh.

"You're worried about nothing."

"I'm fine," I repeat, but my convictions are beginning to wane.

"You're fine," he murmurs, clamping my nose, teasing me, then pulling himself slightly to his knees, he reaches down between our rapidly dampening bodies. I follow his gaze; he grips himself in his palm to keep himself anchored I assume. I accommodate him as much as I can, relaxing my legs that are still tangled around his as he meticulously leans back into me.

He's wearing a condom; I don't even recall him putting it on, and while I'm reflecting on it, Edward, as if taking advantage of my distraction, pushes into me. That's all it takes, and with a sharp, burning sensation, he's suddenly deep within me.

My breath draws, a gasp almost bursting from me when I all but freeze as realisation descends upon me. "Is... is that it?"

I think he means to laugh, but it comes out sounding rigid, and the feeling of him jerking inside me is so surreal I almost laugh with him. "Wasn't that bad, was it?"

I shake my head as my breath completely gushes from me. "No. Why have you stopped?"

"I'm making sure you're okay, first, you pain in the neck," he teases me, but his voice is tense as if he's in pain.

"I'm okay," I insist, my eyes trained on his face; it's knotted in discomfort. "What's wrong?"

"I can barely breathe," he admits, and pulling slightly back he all but groans.

"Am-am I hurting you?"

He does laugh this time, even with his breath restricting, and for a moment he relaxes his entire weight over me. "Bella—stop it!"

"You keep stopping."

"You're throwing me off," he says after bracing himself over me on his hands again. I open my mouth to reply when he clamps his palm over it. "Would you shut up?"

I do, attempting to fight back my smile in response to him, but it's nothing like my mother, all her sex books, or even Alice said it would be. It's uncomfortable, sure, but a pain my body naturally adapts to. Edward goes slowly; he stays conscious of me, but in doing so we end up in laughter several times. Or more accurately, Edward bursts into laughter at how ridiculously innocent I am. I actually ask him why I'm not screaming out his name, why it feels...strange more than anything.

I'm pretty sure we talk more than what's considered normal. Or I talk and Edward tells me to shut up. He kisses me, he laughs as he kisses me, he's sweet and funny, and we actually have several serious moments. It's everything I thought it wouldn't be, and more than I expected, until slowly Edward's voice begins to fail and I realise he's on the very same edge he'd taken me to only moments before.

"Edward, I... I think... I..." I want to tell him it's beginning to hurt, but I don't, and in return he only shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Shhh... No talking," he utters out in barely a whisper, bending down to clumsily kiss me.

He keeps his face buried against the side of mine for a moment, before again pulling back, and I watch in almost fascination as his expression passes from something akin to pain into complete release.

He doesn't moan and groan like I stupidly expected is supposed to happen. It's an amalgamation of physical relief and emotional exhaustion pulling from a depth I can now relate to. And the tears my mother alluded to are suddenly burning behind my eyes.

He collapses on top of me, his heart pounding, his breath so hot my skin prickles as it washes over me, and without any warning those tears spill over. He doesn't initially notice, but I can't hide them from him for long and the moment he rises his head to meet my eyes his immediately widen.

"Hey..." he says, his tone compromised by alarm.

I shake my head, frustrated at myself. "Shut up—I'm fine."

He smiles; it's charming, because when he wants to be he completely owns it. "You're a pain in the neck," he says gently.

"God, I was worried about nothing." I almost laugh, but I'm too currently overrun with a thousand emotions—none of them rational.

"You were..." He helps me wipe my face dry, then enclosing his arms around me, he pulls me against him and rolls to his back.

I exhale heavily, several times, every breath of it, and allow my tears to subside naturally.

Edward mirrors me, only as the air releases from his lungs it's accompanied by a long, languid hum. "Reckon you can relax now?"

"Yes. Finally."

A/N: Finally indeed. Yeah? No? So-so? Let me know. Or not.