The waiting is driving her insane. He may have perfect unyielding self-control, but she is just a human, and is as impatient as they come.

She's tired of hearing his excuses. Hurt, Kill, Chastity, Souls. When he pushes her away (gently – always gently) all she hears is I don't want you, you're not good for me.

It's hard to stay mad at him when he's so damn understanding (stupid gentlemanly vampire), but her need for him has reached an alarming high and there is no relief insight. She thinks maybe (just maybe) reverse psychology will work (it did with Jacob, after all)

It's been two days since she locked her window with her words hanging in the air Your soul is too precious a thing to waste (in reality she's hoping that by taking the heroin away from him, he'll realize his addiction) when she enters her room to find him on her bed, his eyes dark with desire and his seraphic face full of emotion.

Before she can open her mouth to protest (oh, who is she kidding?) his cold lips are on hers moving with a hunger she's never seen before. They only part when they are both gasping for breath. She doesn't even have time to recover before he's pushing her (gently – always gently) against the bed.

He doesn't play fair (but he never claimed to) – or at least this is what she's thinking as he catches her lips for another dizzying kiss. She tries to contain her breathing because she's afraid at any moment, he'll decide to implement the boundaries she knows all too well (that is the part of forever she looks forward to- knocking down all those boundaries).

So neither of them speak (they've said enough things to last forever) as his lips trail down her neck; in fact neither even make a sound (both afraid to break the spell they're under) until she moans when he presses his hips against hers. She practically stops breathing right after, nearly afraid to raise her eyes to his, but before she can apologize (for what? Being human?) he's pulled both of their shirts off.

From that moment, they are both running on purely instinct (no room for expectations – besides neither of them have done this before) her hands are on his chest, in his hair (it's the only thing that holds her to this earth – she's sure); his hands are touching everywhere (gently – always gently); she's not sure how much more of this she can take of this (torturous pleasure, but she wouldn't have it any other way)

When he replaces his hands with his lips, she is sure she's going to die (spontaneous combustion anyone?); her unsteady breathing and erratic heartbeat only cause him to smirk against the skin of her stomach as he inches lower and lower and every thought in her head goes flying out when he rips off the fabric separating them with a growl (she isn't sure if she should be afraid that he ripped off both her jeans and her panties with the ease that she rips paper)

Her heart is racing (he's surprised that it's able to remain in her chest) when she looks down and sees he's completely naked as well. She wonders briefly if she's died and gone to heaven because this perfect being in front of her can be nothing less than an angel. He looks at her then, and the intensity of his gaze causes her to blush from the top of her ears to the tips of her toes; he's dazzled her so completely that it's all she can do to continue breathing.

She's still concentrating on breathing (in and out, in and out) when she feels him enter her, and she cries out – not in pain, but in exquisite ecstasy. He covers her face, neck, hair (everywhere he can reach) with kisses as he begins to move (slowly, but she can't complain – she's too busy trying to keep herself grounded on planet earth)

She's practically panting and her heartbeat is so loud it's almost shameful yet she can't bring herself to care because this is everything she's ever wanted and if she can be with him like this forever; she'd endure anything to do so. Every muscle in his body is tensed and it's only then that she realizes just how much effort this is taking. Her guilt almost takes her then – almost causes her to tell him they could stop – but the pressure is building and she feels herself getting closer to the edge (of what she doesn't know)

She's clutching him frantically when they finally fall off the edge of their (metaphorical) cliff together, and there are no words to describe the absolute bliss – absolute pleasure – she feels in that moment. Wave after wave crashes into her, and she thinks she might drown in it (but if she does, she never wants to be saved). Finally after (seconds, minutes, hours?) the waves recede and it's only him and her, together as one.