|Point of Separation
Author: Cobrastryke PM
Rosalie's musings as she falls in love with Bella. Warning - this story has lots of parts that get a little bit dirty. Nothing weird, but pretty smutty none-the-less. A/U, Slash, RxBRated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Angst - Rosalie & Bella - Chapters: 27 - Words: 175,732 - Reviews: 324 - Favs: 234 - Follows: 233 - Updated: 12-06-10 - Published: 05-14-10 - id: 5969590
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
There was always, and, it felt to her, would always be, a point at the end of each encounter where they had to separate, where one of them had to go. The practical justification for this: it was in order for neither to be found out. And Rosalie would never put herself in a position where she would be the one being prompted to leave. Despite all of the concessions she'd already made (and there were many) in order to get to this place, to this darkened, windowless bedroom where she currently lay, her lithe, slender body draped over the softer, smaller girl in a manner far too intimate, and truthfully, too loving to suggest that this had been a random or meaningless tryst: yes, despite everything Rosalie had compromised to bring her to this very moment, she was still too proud to ever be asked to leave. Nor would she ever be the one asking to stay. Actually, it wasn't simply a matter of pride; it was also manipulation. She knew the power in this, knew the effect it had on Bella, the subtle, veiled rejection present in always being the one being left, always being the one wanting more. Basic economics, Rosalie thought, supply and demand. Flood the supply and you decrease the demand, and vice versa. And I am the vice versa.
Rosalie wasn't actually interested in hurting Bella. In all honesty, it pained her to think of it, and God help anyone else who would ever dare to hurt or upset Bella, her Bella – Rosalie would rip their hearts out. Well, not literally, but she would destroy them, in words, or in deeds, or both.
Rosalie Lillian Hale was a fearsome creature – extraordinarily beautiful, frighteningly intelligent, socially powerful, and wealthy beyond comprehension. And although she would admit this only to herself, she was never more grateful of her power than when she was with Bella. Because she loved Bella – she'd never really loved anyone before (aside from the standard family ties), but she knew she loved Bella. Actually, she knew she was in love with Bella. It was this strange full feeling she'd get in her chest (maybe her heart, she thought) whenever she was with her or thought of her; the feeling that would rise all the way into her throat; to the point where when Bella would look up at her with those sleepy, chocolate brown eyes (although one could hardly describe them as simply "chocolate"; Rosalie could see a million different shades of deep brown; sparkling, endless – Rosalie could look into those eyes forever, she thought, but regardless…), when Rosalie would lose herself in those eyes, or see Bella laugh, or cry, or sigh, or Jesus drink a cup of coffee – whatever – in these moments Rosalie would get this full feeling in her chest, okay her heart, and it would get so indescribable, so huge, that Rosalie felt like she would burst. Feeling like she would burst – how cliché, Rosalie thought, but although Rosalie knew it was cliché, she knew that all clichés had to have been born from truths and thus this was her truth; she was in love with Bella.
And of course, Rosalie was fiercely protective of the few people she loved. So she thanked God that her beauty was breathtaking, her intelligence (although some might describe it more as "cunning") was legendary, her bloodline was beyond blue, and her bank account was at least nine digits before the decimal point.
Because all of this gave her power, and she could use this power to protect Bella, her Bella. Not to shield her from the world – Rosalie didn't want that, and she wasn't naïve – in her mind, character, strength, intelligence, all of it, really, could only be developed through some measure of adversity. Rosalie was just grateful to have the power to make sure that adversity didn't get out of hand. And, yes, to also destroy anyone that tried to (or successfully did) hurt Bella. But subversively, secretly, without anyone knowing, even, no especially, Bella. Because that's how Rosalie operated, how she thought, how she felt; in secret, all of it.
Nothing was more secret, of course, than the fact that she actually loved Bella; was in love with Bella. And for now this fact was as much a secret to the beautiful girl underneath her as it was to everyone else. The beautiful girl who was at this moment, beginning to stir.
"Hey" Bella said quietly, intimately, as she stretched her arms over her head. She had been laying slightly on her left side, her body pressed tightly into Rosalie's as she had held the arm that draped gracefully over her. ("Spooning" Bella insisted on calling it, even though or probably because Rosalie hated the term.)
Now, as Bella stretched, she twisted her body to face Rosalie's and pressed up against her, making their bodies fully flush with each other. Bella exaggerated the stretch so that her nipples grazed Rosalie's, and Rosalie couldn't help but shudder. Bella was looking directly into her eyes, her gaze soft but serious. Rosalie pressed herself into Bella, moving her onto her back but keeping their bodies still flush, as Bella brought her arms down and wrapped them around Rosalie's neck. Rosalie slowly pushed herself onto her forearms, never breaking Bella's gaze or the contact between them from the waist down. She moved one leg slightly in between Bella's as she arched her back, both movements small enough to seem unintentional but still creating enough friction to elicit a tiny gasp out of Bella. Bella gently rubbed the nape of Rosalie's neck with one hand and brought the other to Rosalie's forehead, tracing a half "c" down the side of her face as she tucked an errant strand of hair behind the blonde's ear. Rosalie sighed, staring deeply into Bella's eyes without speaking, knowing just how long to go before the silence became unbearable.
"Hey" Rosalie said back after a few seconds. Bella smiled.
"I can't believe you're still here," she whispered as she traced a line from Rosalie's jaw down to the hollow of her throat, holding her delicate fingers there for a brief moment before bringing them up to Rosalie's cheek. She rubbed it softly with the back of her fingers as she spoke. "Please tell me I wasn't asleep for very long."
"No, you weren't," Rosalie replied, a smirk appearing on her face.
"What?" Bella chuckled. "Okay how long did I sleep? I know it wasn't long because you'd never stick around if it was." Bella feigned irritation in her voice but continued to stroke Rosalie's cheek.
"How rude," Rosalie replied in mock indignation, but with a tone that was soft and seductive. "Now you'll never know."
"Rose," Bella used her nickname and spoke softly as well; all trace of joking was gone. She slipped her arms underneath Rosalie's and began to ghost her fingertips up and down her sides. Rosalie responded by slowly moving the leg that was in between Bella's. "Rose," Bella said again, this time her voice deeper and filled with want. Rosalie began flexing that certain muscle on her slender, perfectly toned thigh and pushing into Bella in slow, precise rhythm, once again moving her own arms back underneath Bella's and gathering the girl up, lifting her lower back slightly off the mattress as they began to rock back and forth. Bella cupped Rosalie's face with both hands and pulled her in for the kiss she couldn't wait any longer for.
There was always, and, it felt to her, would always be a point at the end of each encounter where they had to separate, where one of them had to go. And Rosalie would never put herself in a position where she would be the one prompted to leave. But now, as Bella's soft, full lips met hers, as she moaned into Rosalie's mouth in a way that made Rosalie so weak with arousal she could barely hold Bella, now, as their tongues moved together in time with their bodies, increasing in pace as they grew wetter and wetter, now Rosalie felt that, as dangerous as it might be for her pride, that point of separation would have to wait.
And she knew pride was never really the reason she was always first out the door. Nor was it manipulation. It was fear.
And as their breathing grew faster and this beautiful girl began again to moan her name, she wondered exactly how she had gotten to this point.
A/N: I had originally intended for this to be a two-shot (not sure if that is the proper term), but it kind of just kept going. Hopefully that explains why the tone of the first two chapters differs somewhat. I was more careful with my words in these first two chapters; as the story proceeds, it gets a little sloppier – my apologies in advance. I sort of decided to forego caution in favor of just getting my story out. I'm going back through all the chapters now to try to amend some of my spelling mistakes – again, I apologize in advance because I'm unsure as to whether or not re-posting corrected chapters screws up the whole "story alert" thing.
Thank you so much to everyone who has sent me personal messages and reviews; you motivated me to actually write this thing and I'm extremely grateful.