hiya. enjoy, this one's… yeah. for my jandco and daisy fuentes. and matt pinfield, of course.

I don't know how long the car ride was and I didn't pay attention to landmarks to see if I could figure out where we were headed. All I knew was that as soon as he pulled out of the parking lot, something changed inside that vehicle.

Edward had turned on the radio to a classic rock station and was drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, singing along to the Doors.

"We get this one as a request from time to time," he said to the windshield. It was that "Whiskey Bar" song.

"Hmm." I could feel an electric sparkle in the air, and since I didn't know what it meant, I decided to remain silent. Best to keep your mouth shut in situations like that, right? Look at me, I'm learning.

He continued singing softly; he had leant the car seat back and had one arm lazily draped on the window sill, air flowing through the car through the opened window and ruffling his messy hair. I had never seen him so relaxed, so… not intense. It was unsettling, but I think in a good way. What did it mean?

I disregarded my previous stance on silence. Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted.

"Can I ask you something?" He leaned over to turn the volume off.


"Why… why did you agree to come out with me tonight?"

I cringed inwardly while he paused, seeming to give my dumb question some serious thought. Finally, he spoke.

"I like you, Bella. I told you that." He seemed amused by my confused expression.

"Yeah, but… I dunno. You seemed to like, disapprove of me or something. At least in the beginning?" His jaw clenched and at first I thought that I had ruined the whole night, but he took a deep breath and answered.

"Bella," he began, and faltered. The usually glib Edward seemed… unsure? "It has recently been pointed out to me that I am somewhat… judgmental." Oh, Esme. Or maybe Garrett.

"And condescending."


"And arrogant."

"Yes." He was smiling now.


"Right. Why did you ask me out again?"

"Because you're very, very pretty." He threw his head back and laughed, and I was insanely pleased with myself. He got serious again, and I waited, holding my breath like his next words would either make my night or send me into a huge, fat depression.

"I'm not easy. I know this. Most people kind of… stop trying with me. But you? I don't know. You're as stubborn as I am. Maybe more so."

"So we're here because we're both stubborn?"

"No, not that. It's just…most girls who go for me seem to be looking for some sort of project. But I don't get that from you."

"Yeah, no. I'm not interested in changing anyone."

"I see that. That's why we're here, on a date."

"So what you're saying is… I'm easy? That I won't challenge you?" That was unexpectedly truthful.

"I can't tell if you're easy," he teased, waggling his eyebrows. I rolled my eyes at him and he smiled. "No, I have no doubt you'll challenge me. That's what I'm saying. You seem to have a fairly accurate bullshit detector. And I like that."

"And you shovel it on pretty thick, from what I've seen." That got me a huge grin.

"Yep. But I think you can handle it."

"Me, too."

"I also think you've got a bangin' body, if that helps answer your question."


"You're welcome." He grinned and rested his arm on the console between us.

"Is there… is there something about me that bothers you?" Man, I really didn't want to know the answer to that one, but I felt like I had to ask. There was still doubt, I guess. I mean, seriously? Just looking at him sitting there, driving my car, looking every inch like a woman's ideal of what a man should look like made me wonder how it was that I'd kissed him more than once.

He screwed up his face for a moment before answering. "I was too quick to judge. Like always. I thought you were just one of those girls who drank the weekend away and slept around. You know, like ninety percent of the patrons at the bar. I… take issue with alcoholics, whether they've been to meetings or not."

"Because of your dad."


"I'm not an alcoholic, Edward. I don't really drink all that much." Man, is that why he was so weird in the beginning? It was like the proverbial light bulb went off above my head. I had been wasted and I had crawled on his piano like Tawny Kitaen and let a stranger smack my ass and ended up naked in his bed. Jesus.

"I know that now. I think I always knew, I just…" He trailed off and his hand went to his hair, scratching and messing it up.

"You just what?"

"I saw the truth, eventually. Esme told me that I have a tendency to see what I want to see, and only when I thought something was worth it would I make any sort of effort." He shrugged, and the gesture seemed to lessen the brief tension in his body. "I guess I figured out that you're worth it."


Just… wow.

I leaned over and was jerked back by the seat belt. Laughing at myself, I unbuckled it and leaned over once again, scooting up a bit so that my face was even with Edward's. He turned to look at me and I gently grasped his chin in my palm, turning his head forward.

"Eyes on the road." I crossed the inches of distance between us and lightly kissed the stubble on his jaw. "And thanks. I think you're worth it, too. So I guess we're here for the same reason." I sat back and re-buckled, feeling an unfamiliar sense of accomplishment and peace.

He drove on for a few minutes more, the silence comforting, soothing. I was watching him drive, seeing the outside glow of street lights and the occasional passing car draw shadows across his handsome face.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked without his eyes leaving the road. The car was slowing as he spoke, pulling into an all-too-familiar parking lot that was oddly empty.


He looked over at me while turning the engine off. "You're a terrible piano player." And with a wolfish grin, he took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car.

I chuckled and shook my head. Seriously, would I ever get used to him? I really hoped not.

I glanced at the dashboard clock. It was a little after midnight on a Saturday, but Singin' in the Rain seemed closed for the night. The lot was empty, and the neon sign was turned off.

Edward came around to my side of the car but I opened the door before he could touch the handle. "It's still supposed to be my date, remember?"

"Our date," he corrected, taking my hand and pulling me to standing. I stumbled out, my ankle twisting on some loose gravel and he caught me, taking the opportunity to pull me up against his body. I knew a move when I saw one, but I wanted it. God helped me, I wanted it.

We stood there, my face at his chest, breathing heavily. His arms were warm and steady around me. Edward always smelled so amazing.

He tilted my face up with one long finger and I looked at him, his hair backlit by the parking lot lights, his eyes shadowy and dark. He seemed about to say something and I was suddenly uncertain, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Why's the bar closed?"

He scowled or maybe just looked disappointed but he stepped back, still holding my hand. He turned and started walking toward the side of the building, pulling me with him, our feet crunching the gravel underneath.

"When we're down a man, we close early," he said over his shoulder. We got to the alley around back (oh God that kiss and the heat it seemed like so long ago) and he fished into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a set of keys on a plain key ring. He fit one into the "employees only" door and clicked it open. "They shut down a half hour ago."

"And you know that because…" I followed him into the dark, my eyes adjusting to the faint glow of lights from behind the bar that were left on. It seemed really big without the surging crowd and accompanying noise, bigger than it should be. Our footsteps echoed as we stepped in. He tossed the keys on an empty table and stepped over to the closest piano.

"Garrett was giving me constant texts about how hard it was without me tonight," he said, feigning a pained look. "Poor guy, having James all to himself."

"And they cleaned up that fast?" I stood in one spot, trying to figure him out- and trying to figure out what we were doing there. I mean, this was where we had first met. Where we had so many missteps and odd (sexy) interactions. Was he being symbolic? Or maybe I was reading into things too much? Hey, he had Grease-related job stuff, I had looking-for-meaning-in-everything-Lit-major job stuff.

"Surprisingly, it doesn't take that long. And maybe people left when they saw I wasn't here." I had to laugh at his smug look. I think he may have actually been serious about that one.

"You really are arrogant."

"Bar receipts don't lie, Bella." He smirked and then sat down at the piano bench, patting the spot right next to him.

I eyed him warily and carefully picked my way over, not wanting to trip on some unremembered step in the dark. When I got to him, I put my foot on the bench and one hand on the piano. Using the top of his head for support with my other hand, I stepped up and sat on the smooth, black surface, turning so that my feet dangled on the side. Bracing my arms behind me and leaning back, I said seriously, "Are you taking requests, Mr. Piano Man?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Nope." He opened the keyboard cover and ran his fingers up and down the keys a few times, gazing off into the distance, seeming to consider something silently. I was going to ask the always-girly "what're you thinking?" when he opened his mouth and began to sing.

"Once there was a way to get back homeward," he began, and my eyes shut of their own volition, his scotch-smooth voice bathing me in a tingle of light. "Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby." It was my favorite Beatles tune. Leave it to him to know that.

It was all so… amazing. His soft voice, rasping in all the right places, the gentle vibrating thrum of the piano beneath me, making my nerve endings buzz, making my body feel naked, like my skin was rubbing against supple, soft fur. I was lulled, I was melting; I felt like I could almost fall asleep in the warm embrace of his voice and his music and his sound. Almost.

The song ended and everything was still, the last few notes reverberating through the air, adding a sense of lazy anticipation. I kept my eyes shut. What would he play next?

I heard the creak of wood as he moved, heard rather than felt him stand over me. I was breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling, rising and falling. I could feel a sort of painful tingling in my wrists where all of my weight was braced, but I didn't dare move- like if I shifted, the spellbinding moment would break, and the night would be over.

I sensed when he moved again, could feel the swish of air and the coldness left by his void. I was reluctantly starting to sit up when I felt his hands at my waist, jerking me up, the surprise of it nearly knocking the wind out of me. My eyes flew open and there he was, his face inches from mine, the faint light from the bar making his eyes glow with a deep golden intensity.

And then his mouth was on mine, kissing, bruising, unlike the other kisses from before. I was trying to keep up with him, trying to match his pace, but he was always ahead of me, his lips wrapping around mine, his tongue brushing everywhere and nowhere all at once.

I reached up with my arms, his embrace holding me steady as I put my palms on the back of his neck, running my fingers through his hair and grasping hard, my nails scraping his scalp. He finally let up on assaulting my mouth, hissing through his teeth, looking at me with both fury and apology.

And desire. God, the desire.

"Sorry," he whispered, his voice rugged. "Couldn't help myself."

"Forgive you," I whispered back, trying not to breathe too hard. We stared at each other for what seemed like hours and I watched the intensity fade from his eyes.

He began to stand up fully, looking sheepish, gently taking a hold of my wrists and drawing them from his hair. He held them between us and pulled me upright. "Been wanting to do that all night."

I considered this a moment, feeling my pulse race again as I came to a decision.

"Do it again."

The corner of his mouth lifted and I caught a glimpse of his teeth before he leaned in again, but this time I was ready. His lips pressed to mine and I met them, moved with them, parted when they parted. Tongue on tongue. Warm and wet and yes. I don't know if I scooted forward or he dragged me over, but suddenly we were flush with each other, chest to chest, my knees on either side of his rib cage.

His arms were around me, hands smoothing down my back purposefully, his thumbs trailing last, flicking my bra clasp through my shirt; down down down, the tips of his fingers playing with the hem, brushing the skin at the small of my back. The contact made me thrust into him, wishing that pianos weren't so high or that Edward were taller so that I'd be feeling him, feeling him. And then oh… there he was, he must've been leaning or kneeling or whatever but yeah. I could definitely feel him now.

He reached under my shirt and pulled it off in one clean motion, tossing it behind him while I tried to keep my balance. I tightened my grip on his waist with my legs, wrapping my legs around him and opening them up to accommodate the width of his body. I had to brace my arms behind me again, and his eyes zeroed in on my now shirtless figure. Thank God I had a decent bra on. He was staring at my chest and I had to laugh.

"What is it?" he murmured, not taking his eyes off of my breasts.

"Guys are always rendered dumb by tits. It's silly."

"Yep." He leaned down, an inch or two above the cups of my bra, and he inhaled deeply, a lazy grin curling his lips as I felt the tickle of exhaled breath across my skin. "You smell salty and warm," he said to my chest.

"Mm." I was losing the ability to concentrate. He looked down, studying me, his hair seeming darker, messier. My chest was heaving and it bumped his nose, startling me with the touch.

Rather abruptly, he stood up fully and in the next moment had lifted me off the piano and onto the stage in front of him. I reached out to steady myself, catching his shirt; I pulled up to take it off but he was taller than me by a foot, so he reached behind his head and pulled the shirt off the rest of the way. I leaned in and kissed the middle of his chest, feeling the warmth and his subsequent shiver.

I looked up at him and I'd say it was like I just decided to drop everything and be there in the moment, but I think had been there the entire time. The Bella of yore would probably be freaking out right about now- we were in a bar, for Pete's sake- but I pushed those distant misgivings away and focused on the guy in front of me. Edward. I reached out and put my hand on his jaw; he turned and kissed my palm, then held my wrist with his hand.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, so soft I barely caught it, but I could see in his eyes anyway that he was making sure I was right there with him. And I was.

I nodded and tilted my face toward his, meeting his now gentle lips with a kiss.

And then it wasn't so soft or so gentle. With a swallowed gasp I kissed him harder, faster, more more more. His arms went around my back, mine around his waist. My leg raised, ankle hitching around his thigh. He moved a hand to support my ass, his other hand brushing along my back. A tug, and I felt the heavy shift of my bra falling, the weight of my breasts pulling it down. One-handed bra removal; I wasn't surprised.

Then it was gone, flung, who knew who removed it, skin on skin, tingle of flesh brushing my nipples, hot hot heat, a flash of nerve endings traveling down, muscles clenching, seering convulsions, don't fall, trust he'll hold me up.

Desperate to keep his mouth on me, I moved my hands down slowly, swiping my tongue against his, enjoying the soft growl somewhere in the back of his throat. My fingers brushed the waistband of his jeans and I traced along the edge, swiftly undoing the button and grinning into his mouth when he gasped.

"It'll go faster if we do this ourselves," he said, his voice all husky and full of gravel.

"Yeah," I whispered. I pulled away, my back hitting the piano as I watched him reach for his zipper. Suddenly shy, I turned and stepped away, over toward the piano bench. Taking a few steadying breaths, I reached down and undid my own button and zipper while kicking off my shoes. Deep breath in. Oh man, I couldn't believe this was happening. I bent over slightly, lowering the waistband. Right leg out, then left. I kicked the jeans away and reached out to balance myself, my hand grasping the keyboard with a low, throbbing clang.

I was so startled by the noise that I jumped and a second later he was right behind me, the warmth of his body covering me, comforting me. I felt his breath at my shoulder, felt his mouth pressing into my neck, open and soft, a light brush of teeth along my collarbone. One arm covered mine, lifting my hand from the keys while his other arm reached around me, softly cupping one breast. I tilted my head, giving him more room to kiss my neck, my legs losing strength as he softly curled his fingers and gently scraped them across my hardened nipple.

Somewhere to my left he closed the keyboard cover and then brought his hand to my shoulder, lightly trailing down my side, down my ribs, resting on my hip. With his mouth sucking lightly at my throat, he moved his hand from my hip, his fingers dancing over the top of my underwear.

I was gasping now, my breaths shallow, my breasts tingling. His hand went lower, down, tickling, oh God, his body pressing into my back, the hard bulge above my ass, oh God- deep breath- I held it forever and ever and then there, finger sliding down and over, slick and up, rubbing, my hips rolling with and against the motion, mouth open, gasping and rolling, oh God oh God-

With a low moan, his teeth bit down a little harder, making my eyes snap open and then he was turning me, his hands on mine, clasping our fingers together as he braced us against the piano.

"One sec," he said into my ear, and I was briefly confused when he stepped away. I looked over my shoulder and saw him fumbling with his pants until he produced a gold foil-wrapped—oh.

"You're a real boy scout," I grinned, my throat dry. He smiled back and stood up, coming back to stand behind me. I faced the piano again, my breathing going back to normal, sort of.

Did I really want to do this?

I heard rustling behind me, and then I felt his warmth against me once more.

Yes. Yes I did.

I bent at the waist and propped my hands up on the piano, feeling like I was about to be frisked. I started to inwardly smile at the metaphor but gasped instead as I felt his hand at my neck. He brushed my hair to one side and softly kissed my bare neck. My head dropped and my mouth opened, the noisy, quick breathing creating ephemeral clouds on the smooth, glossy surface of the piano. I tried to calm my racing heart by inhaling deeply, but I let the breath out in another gasp as I felt one finger where he had kissed me, tracing down my spine slowly, creating a shivering tingle of prickly gooseflesh in its wake. Down the dip of my back, full palm resting on my ass, down more, fingertips at the waistband, flicking it down but not off.

He paused and I resisted turning around, instead straightening my back. And then he was there, chest against me, his hot breath at my ear, his hardness nestled above my ass, hands on my hips. I could feel his fingers spreading, grasping, his thumbs under my cheeks, moving inward and then…

And then I shut my eyes as one of his thumbs hooked under the embarrassingly wet crotch of my panties and the other hand- oh God, his other hand-

"Oh," I whispered. And "yes." My elbows buckled and I leaned forward, my breasts on the somehow warm surface of the piano top, my ass thrusting out, giving him room, inviting him, please, please please please.

"Please. Now," I said, my voice louder than I meant but hell, I wasn't in control of my actions.

With one hand still holding my hip and the other still holding my underwear, he walked forward and I could feel his legs against mine, his skin hot and oh. Jesus.

His dick pressed against me, and I opened my stance a bit, feeling the slide of it, slick and a little sticky in that weird latex-y way. Oh God. I stuck my ass out a little higher and he hissed and just like that he was oh.

God. In. And out. I pressed my chest forward and got up on my tippy toes and yes. All the way in. Gees, it was so intrusive and full and good. So good. So so so good. More and faster and good.

His hand at my waist grasping, pinching, my body taking it, bracing, holding on as he just went at it, oh God oh God "Oh God" the flutter, the sweet tingle in my abdomen or pelvis or wherever-the-fuck, hot burn and in and out with my hipbones jabbing the piano and don't stop, please don't stop.

He was grunting, he was grasping; he was filling me and out and back in and oh oh oh oh.


"Yes," I groaned. Yes. The tingle of pain, almost too much and more and not enough. That's it, right there. Oh, right there. "Right there, Edward. Yes." My head bent, forehead on glossy black and then there and there and my neck cracked as I strained with it and "Ah." My eyes popped open and I saw white, saw bright light and tingly stars flashing and crashing and he was there too, all bunched muscles and pulsating rhythms under me and in me, no sound, no silence and then a great exhale of relief, a sudden stilling and then bliss. Just soft bliss. Heart pounding against the piano, elbows cracking as I straightened them, pushing myself up because I suddenly felt the uncomfortable position I had somehow ended up in.

He pulled out and I felt that too-much tingle, laughing uncomfortably but in a good way, slowly trying to stand and failing.

Should I turn around? I didn't know yet. Oh my God. Sex in a bar. In his bar. Yikes. I should've been ashamed, but I totally wasn't. I wasn't much of anything except, you know. Good to go. Oh, if my mother could see me now. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Edward came up and kissed my shoulder. "Be right back." Out of the corner of my eye I saw him pick up his clothes and I finally turned around. He was headed to the bathroom, and he bent over at one point to pick something up, tossing it my way. My bra. I grinned and put the thing on. Oh my God. What would he say when he got back?

I gathered the rest of my stuff, goose bumps rippling across my entire body. I ran to the ladies' room. Looking in the mirror, I kind of grinned goofily, congratulating myself on breaking a very long dry spell as I stepped into my pants.

"I just had sex with Edward Cullen," I laughed to my own reflection.

"Yeah you did." I spun around to face the now dressed and unfairly even sexier than before Edward. It occurred to me that if I had seen him in this post-coital glow stage before tonight that I would've jumped on him way before this. His lips were swollen, his body all loose as he leaned against the door frame. His hair was ridiculous. Had I done that?

"Edward," I said, pulling my shirt on. "This is the ladies' room!"

"Yep. You didn't take your socks off."

"Well, it was cold in there."

"So I noticed," he said wryly, his eyes on my tits again.

"Stop looking at me like you've seen me naked," I said, my defiant tone belied by the dopey grin I knew I was wearing.

"No." He stepped closer, inches away. I couldn't help it, I started breathing heavy again. Dammit, would the affect of his proximity ever wear off? Probably not.

He took my hands and turned them over, bringing each to his lips and kissing the insides of my wrists. "Thanks, Bella."

"Welcome. You, too." I didn't know what else to say. Or do.

"Anytime." He grinned then, and I kissed that sexy smile for what I knew would not be the last time.

"So… what happens next?" Damn. I bit my lip. Me and my dumb girl questions.

"Next? I say we find your shoes and go take a nap." He put his arm around me and we started walking out of the restroom.

"Okay." And then what? "Hey, Edward?"


"Let's not do it in the bar again."




Oh, just say it. "Pianos are okay."

He threw his head back, and I grinned. If I could keep him laughing like this, then I think that maybe, just maybe… this would all work out after all.

maybe, maybe.

i updated this over at a different forest a few days ago, js js