To Viola Cornuta: so, I bombard you with the most insane, inane emails while I spin my ficcy fickle lickle wheels, and you stroke my ego and put up with my BS. And try to make me stop using 'that'. Cheers, love!

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

~~ This is another of my Twi 25 offerings. I've been thinking on it, and some really wonderful women. I want to give this to winterstale. Thank you, honey~~


An outcast, a loner. I was sixteen years old with no friends to speak of. An invisible boy. The privileged son of the do-gooder Masen forbears who had governed the populace since Forks founding with our charitable trusts and our philanthropic works.

I scorned the banality of high school happenings, preferring to bury my head in books of history, philosophy, architecture…basically anything that would lift me out of this suffocating, sucking, claustrophobic existence.

The very idea of parties with the jocks, the hicks, the druggies, the in-crowd, made me sneer. I favored my piano to my peers, my music and my solitude to the peasantry.

Quite simply, I was a freak.

My appearance didn't help. Wan with a bronze head of devilishly untamed hair, tall, lanky, with green eyes piercing and only a bit muted behind glasses, there was no mistaking me.

Though I ignored them, I still heard the silly giggles of juvenile girls mooning over my supposed broody good looks, and alternately questioning my sexuality when I turned a baleful, glowering eye to them.

It went without saying that I'd be matriculating from my father's alma mater, Dartmouth, and I couldn't fucking wait to get out of the dead-end hell hole of Forks.

A scant change, the moving in of a large family, took my insular world and turned it ass over tits. They were weirder than me!

If I fit about as well as a square peg in a round hole, this odd unit of Cullen-Hales was the stuff small town nightmares were made of.

Glomming onto them when they enrolled during my junior year, a misfit human boy seeking camaraderie amongst a coven of vampires who were masquerading astypical teens, I approached the four new students.

They didn't shun me.

I probably should have been thankful, in retrospect, that they didn't hunt me either.

There was Alice. The younger sister none of us ever had. Except, of course, she was far fucking older than I, I learned eventually. Sprightly, tiny, strong as houses and giddy near all the time, Alice filled the world with laughter with each traipsing step.

Emmett was…Emmett? Possibly everything I had ever hated about every single varsity athlete I'd come across. Supernaturally strong, steadfastly funny and jovial, he just didn't care. All the world was a stage, and he was but a giant jester!

Rosalie was stunning. Absolutely hard and glassy and glorious in her vampire-made body, sharp of tongue, knifelike of teeth, she killed with pure driven hunger. Protective, a keeper, she was a hard-boiled mother hen and Esme's second-in-command.

Esme, Esme. So golden of heart. So filled with love she eclipsed the atmosphere with a durable hug, sometimes a bit too hard to my flesh made delicate in their embraces. Esme created this family and made their manse a secure home.

Carlisle was their father. A learned man, graceful and elegant with a small side smile hinting at the tease of humor he mostly contained inside, he governed through mighty and impressive deeds with soft gentle words. Walking tall. A tender-hearted sire to his children.

It was Jasper who called to me most. A fallen angel, he was cherubic and cherished and shorn and shunned. Through hours in his presence, I learned of his past, a detestable history spilling with killing and maiming that seemed so conflicting with his placid nature.

And yet, occasionally, he was rough, riled, at odds with what he'd become. Only a few times in my life was I astounded by the violence that volleyed just beneath the still-lake surface of his hard-won passivity. A hunter of animals instead of people. Most troubled of them all, Jasper and I understood each other.

I didn't know immediately what they were, though they never really hid their true nature from me.

It was the natural order of things, a very weirdly easy circumstance that found me walking down the long light-bearing oak alley to their house, sidetracked by a rare birdsong into the forest. I came across Jasper tearing into a young fawn, plundering claret blood like a man feasting at a trestle table in days of old. Catching sight of me, the blond man growled.

I stepped back, my hands raised.

Eyes turning from obsidian and beastly to amber and still not one bit human, Jasper wiped his mouth on his sleeve and grinned like a friend, not a fiend, "Well, Edward, I guess the cat's out of the bag now."

How could the good -- I scoffed -- people of Forks not see these teens never changed? A group of adolescents who should be growing at a rapid rate looked the same day in and day out for months, a year, and then two years, and no one even batted an eyelash?

I was gladdened by the blind ignorance of the catatonic citizens of the village, for it meant the Cullen-Hales could stay put. With me.

Thus it was that my best friend, my first friend, was a young vampire whose self-loathing I rebuffed by joking with him. Lord knew I'd wanted to kill a fair few people in my own day! I just didn't have the paranormal equipment to do so.

I taught Jasper to lighten up, he allowed me to become his brother.

Those were halcyon days. I knew the love of a family of oddballs such as myself, and they expected nothing more than I gave freely.


February of their first year was surreal.

Another new transplant started at Forks High, and this one was entirely human, completely a girl.

Her initial day made child's play of all Jasper's semi-dormant savage instincts!

In the parking lot, halfway through third period, he raged up and down, spitting, hissing, cursing, taking three steps toward Mr. Banner's Biology class and two steps in retreat to his car.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I grabbed his elbows and he thrust me off with little more than a shiver.

His eyes were a hooded boiling red-black volcano, "Bella Swan."

"Chill the fuck out, man! She's just a girl!" I stood in front of him, his nostrils steaming like a bull to a matador.

"No, Edward, you don't understand. She's my cantante, my singer! FUCK! Her blood is made for me! I will never know the taste of one such as her again!" Jasper crouched low to a pounce and strafed from side to side in quick fury, pounding the tarmac.

I was fast, but his was the speed of demons.

With a growl from the beastly depths of his stomach, I saw Jasper as never before. A primal killing machine bred for the sole purpose of slaughter.

The mutilated carnage of this Bella Swan would be his end.

I bellowed before he reached the double cafeteria doors, "JASPER! STOP! If you kill her, you will die. You will kill your entire family! Fucking STOP!"

With a hand fisting around the chain enclosing the metal doors, he shuddered.

I didn't care about her, I cared about him.

Jasper was my brother.

Approaching the wild animal, I whispered and stretched one hand out to his heaving shoulder, "Stop, brother. You're stronger than this."

Tugging the padlock apart, Jasper stood to his full height and walked almost sedately through the emptied cafeteria.

He was no longer breathing.

At his heels, I moved along.

I wouldn't be able to stop him.

I didn't need to.

Insanely, inexorably, his fueled need to imbibe her blood turned, on a dime, to the calamitous want for her heart. An organ that continued beating.

The Cullen clan opened their arms to her. There was enough love to go around, but I was miserly. They nurtured her just as they'd coddled me, and I didn't want to share.

Happening, unhappily, upon her and Jasper locked against each other, heatedly writhing, I gasped and stumbled away.

I didn't even try to understand the virulent upheaval that knotted my guts seeing them together, but I let it out on Jasper when he caught up with me, "Jesus Christ! I thought you wanted to kill her!"

He tore his hands through his gilded curls and spat to the ground, "Fuck, Edward! Would you rather me murder an innocent than try to love her?"

I shook my head, I nodded my chin; I was all over the place.

"You don't understand, Edward. This," Jasper waved his arm about indicating something larger than what I could grasp, "Is something I just can't explain." His bleary blackened eyed worried me.

In pacing toward me, I saw the war of his haggard skin under the inflexible velvetiness of craving, "I can either spill her blood, or fill her with my love…there are only the two extremes to this thing, Edward," Jasper clasped my shoulder and we trudged back down the forest footpath to the house, where she was waiting. I realized life as I'd known it was over.

Isabella Swan.

I hated her as I'd never hated anyone before. With the full twist of viscera, with the desire to hiss and spit and kick her. They were my people! My family! What right did she have to purloin Jasper, my brother, my best friend, my mashed up kin?

The Cullen-Hales, Carlisle and Esme included, thought it quite amusing the two mortals among them couldn't stand to be in the same room together.

Unsure if Isabella's disgust with me was genuine or simply a reaction to the vile manner in which I treated her, I gave her wide berth.

I suspected Jasper of foul play, using his emotional empathetic abilities to manipulate her affections, but who was I to blame him? I'd have done the same thing in his shoes, had I found this interloper Isabelle Swan one bit attractive.

With the perception I was cursed with, I knew the morning after they'd had sex the first time. Isabella positively glowed with the sensual energy of a woman whose sexuality had been tapped.

For the first time I saw her as beautiful.

Though I continued to goad her publicly by mockingly calling her Isabella, when I thought of her, with worrying escalating frequency, I referred to her as Bella.


It felt like I despised Jasper.

Cursed, plagued, crushed, confused, I couldn't look at her, and I no longer felt quiet simple camaraderie in Jasper's regard.

Her continued presence was pushing Jasper away from me.

Even with disgraceful intent, I couldn't deny her promising charisma.

In light of this, I tried to make it right, to at least befriend Bella Swan.

That was my downfall.


Finally, we graduated.

With scholarships and my diploma in hand, I was anxious and optimistic. A new life awaited me.

Learning the coven was moving on as well, to Dartmouth as had been planned long ago, I was at once horrified, heartened, heady and spiteful.

My feelings were unwieldy.

Fraught with delight to keep them with me, in all our filial companionship, I was equally daunted by the thought of Bella being so near, still.

She attended Wellesley.

I saw her often.

There was no easement from the push-pull.

Jasper was ever at my side or hers.

The affliction, the disquiet grew. I refused to give it name.

My devotion to my best friend and my burgeoning feeling for his mate -- a woman so obviously created, born, bred to be his lover and lifelong, perhaps even everlasting wife – shrouded me in the garb of devils.

Three years in, Jasper and Bella didn't marry. In lieu they held a small promising ceremony to combine their lifelong, eternal vow to each other.

Ever the martyr, I stood to Jasper's side and smiled through a wide-open throbbing as if my heart were turning to coal.

Older, never wiser, I remained niggardly with my emotions.

They danced, flounced and looked flawless together. Dipping Bella low to the floor, Jasper licked her neck and I cinched my fists so as not to pound him to an unbloodied pulp, knowing any aggression on my part would be ineffectual.

Still together.

I remained alone.


Seven more years.

Like a homing pigeon, I always returned.

Jasper never did adequately explain the unsound profound feeling of love eradicating the need to destroy. Yet I understood the emotion in the marrow of my bones and the pump of my heart.

To New York City I moved.

He used to be my beacon. Now Bella was, perpetually.

Jasper didn't have a choice. With Bella it was either kill her or love her.

I had a choice. And I chose to be with her, in any way conceivable.

She was in my blood.

I fell in love with Bella Swan. Soft and bashful, a wily, bold and sexy creature.

Instead of flourishing, she began to founder. The incandescent light that described her dimmed.

Between us, it started with friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. Human things that none of the Cullen-Hales understood. Dinner at a new restaurant, platonic naps in separate rooms, slow strolls in Central Park. I craved her and she yearned for humankind. Biweekly, our afternoons were both a comfort and the most grueling wracking persecution ever known, because I wanted to not only be near her, I needed to be with her!

I held her hand one night as I escorted her back to Jasper. Hers trembled lightly inside of mine, a single page with so many words written and none spoken aloud. At the porch, the light filtered over Bella's face, the sad fashion of her very red lips, highlighting a sheen of wetness that glanced over her eyes turning them from light brown to damp earth.

The following day, Jasper found me. He was bewildered, talking a blue streak that I couldn't understand.

Undeterred by my flustered questioning, merely wanting to know that Bella was alright, Jasper held my throat in his hand and shoved me to the wall, "She's not happy, Edward! What did you say to her last night?"

He could kill me with a small tightening of his muscles.

I didn't care one ounce.

My voice was a shattered thing in my narrowing air-tight windpipe, "Jasper, we barely spoke." I wretched and puked when he released me, bent double I begged, "Don't you fucking hurt her, brother."

I warned him and myself.

Unquestionably he loved her, vehemently, venomously. He sought to assuage his blight within her luminescence.

But he was strangling her.

Knowing hope, and loathing myself for taking one solitary measure of joy in his angst, I watched Jasper leave and immediately called Bella.

She held back sobs and asked me, "Can I stay with you?"

For a moment, I envisioned it all.

I could give her what she wanted. A normal life, a husband, children. Passion without inertia.

She knocked on my door. Rap-rap-taptaptap.

"I've left him, Edward," Bella announced before she fell to me, exhausted.

I didn't crush her against my body as I wanted to. I placed her tenderly on the sofa in front of the fire where she found the sanctuary of slumber. Waiting for her to waken, I paced and queried and begged for answers and understanding.

Night shaded. She never woke. I covered her and slept, disturbed by weaving wasteful dreams, in the armchair pulled to her side.

In the morning, buttery sunshine cascading through the waterfall of her hair, blinkering my eyes, Bella sat spry and replenished.

She spoke the foulest words. I didn't want to listen, "I'm going back to him, Edward."

For a full six months the taking and giving away and coming and leaving continued with Bella furtively coming to my house for safekeeping.

I never denied her. I never turned Bella away.

How well I understood the pull of Jasper. My friend. My brother.

Gloomily, garroted, I caressed the empty cavern of my chest, always waiting for her to turn up again.

The ache spread like angina, sucking out my breaths.

I loved Bella. I'd take each moment of her grace no matter how pitifully horrendous the rent in my heart grew every time she departed.

We never approached our feelings. We never made love. I sheltered Bella, and she took care of me. We fed off an unspoken implicit, gloriously equal manifestation of love.

I was confused, punched in the gut over my uxorial, irresistible amore for her and my fraternal, longtime regard for Jasper.

But it was too much; it would never be enough, not for me.

I was her best friend, and that was pretty fucking shitty. No matter how desperately I wanted to hear her, see her, feel her negligent touches, I finally understood nothing less than complete heart-filled love would suffice. Even if I lived forever, to be with her as a friend and nothing more just wasn't worth the suffering.

"I'm going, Bella," I mentioned in passing, playing it off, the next time she knocked on my door.

I abhorred her. I fucking adored her!

All the tears she never shed in my presence flooded past her eyelids in big welling drops that smattered her cheeks and crashed into the gasping wildness of her lips.

I turned my back and she was at my side with grappling hands, tearing my shirt, scratching my arms, scathing my waist, begging me mutely and then with the incensed ripping apart of her heart, her world I once would have loved to become, "Why? WHY!"

The plundering smacking angry fire of her tone met the pummeling of her fists raining blows all over me, and I couldn't look at her for fear I'd crumble and never fucking ever leave this place, leave her, leave Jasper, and never ever find a love untainted and true just for myself.

Stupidly, I chanced one look at Bella. Not even strong enough to shove her out of my house let alone my life, I glanced down and watched complete despair ruin her face, crumpling it so she didn't resemble herself any more.

In the back of my mind I made quick work of justifying this thing I shouldn't be doing, explaining it away as a self-fulfilling prophecy, implying I had no control over my actions as I brought Bella against me, for the first time feeling her round lovely curves flush against my body! Her lips parted, and her eyes shut out a world of sadness and sin.

My thigh between her legs, inclining over her, pressing my chest to her breasts, our lips so close, the desire, the years of waiting, wanting, I'd fucking take whatever I could get…just once!

"Don't tell me you don't feel it too, Bella!"

Her hands found their way to the back of my head, into my hair, tugging me the last space down, against my mouth that was crying and desperate for her kiss, she hoarsely wept, "How could I not, Edward?"

Our lips starved together, silencing words that might be said to halt our love-making.

I'd never before kissed so deeply, never touched so completely, had never felt so thoroughly torn in two, yanked inside out, and then put back together, whole but different!

I smoothed the wrinkles from her brow with my fingertips and pushed her dress down her body.

Fully confident, completely stunning, Bella stepped from the clothes and smiled lightly at my awed staring. Ivory and,when I unhooked her bra, the palest pink. As I lowered her panties, the softest swirl of brown just at the top of her lips.

I kissed her there with a steady open mouth, a tapping of my tongue, overcome by the need so simply to be with Bella.

Her slender hands shook as she unbuttoned my shirt, over my chest, she smiled, wandered, wondered, "You're so warm, Edward!"

With no need to hold her impulses in check, Bella touched me, undressed me, quickly with greedy abandon. Hands and mouth and lips and tongue caressed each muscle, vein, limb, sinew while I tried to remain upright on my shaking legs. The sounds spilling from me were guttural, grateful, and not of this world.

Gluttonous, ravenous we twined nakedly around each other, and Bella rode all up and down me like a slithering thing, because there was no way I would kill her with slightest ill-timed pressure.

Lifting her, cradling her, amazed at the tender folds and hills of skin settled against me, my cock so high it pushed between the rounds of her buttocks, I brought Bella to my bedroom.

Every inch of flesh touched, tasted, licked. I sucked her nipples into my mouth and Bella moaned backwards into the pillows, "Oh god!"

Trailing like silken skeins her acorn-colored hair corkscrewed over my abdomen descending to my cock in advance of her lips. Supple smooth, her fists, her mouth and wetness all over me, my hips raced closer to her tongue, my hair flattened, my shoulders lifted from the mattress to watch her glide above me, eyes lidded, heavy and melted. Her fingertips surely stroked the jagged triangle of flesh inside the top of my right thigh, through the lacing of hair, noticing the shape that was more pale than the rest of me. A birthmark, a blemish, she'd never seen before.

"I can't, Bella, I can't!" I managed to bite out so lowly with my hands to her arms, lifting her, then to her bottom, situating her onto me. Slowly.

Locking her fingers at the nape of my neck, Bella towed me up to her, our bodies mashed together, soft wet, hard hot.

Mouths clashed over breaths, and words we might never speak transmuted to tissue like paper, sucking and biting.

I lowered her with me and thrust with force up into Bella's body. She vibrated above me, quavered around me, sighed, "Aaaah, Edward."

Sitting up, palms level to my chest, braced right on top of my nipples that worked up and ached with her rubbing, Bella bowed back, and I was so deep. Her thighs were slick, the skin between us sodden with sex and impregnated with us.

I touched the umber pencil-eraser-sized mole inside her cleavage, and the other at the topside of her left breast. I clasped the constellation of freckles on her shoulder blades, dots I'd wanted to trace for more than ten years. Pressing until her breasts hovered above my lips, pink like spring camellias, open and splendid, I licked-kissed-suckled.

Glimpses of uniqueness only a lover could be familiar with.

Our eyes bore into each other's. Bella bit her lip, I nipped her a might too hard, and she dropped onto me with my hands to her waist then her ass.

An increase of motion and her tightness inside strengthened around my cock, squeezing. I kneaded her rear and drew a sliver of skin at the base of her neck in between my lips and teeth. Tearing it just a bit when I came, crying out between clamped tight lips.

Bella beat her fists to my torso twice and then scratched me, digging in, with her fingernails in my ribs and her heels at my knees, superb, supine, stretched taut, spurring me on until she arched sharply and screamed.

Immobilized, she collapsed. I gathered Bella, tossed the blankets over us. One, two, three hours. The dew of sweat cooled, dried. Every breath and brush of skin was miraculous.

Dusk turned sunlight to roses.

Bella unwound herself, sat to the edge. I couldn't resist stroking her spine, sipping at the dimples that punctuated her ass, slipping my hands around to scale her breasts.

She stood.

Tall. Bearing straight. Eyes ahead.

I brought her clothes, balanced her, dressed her.

"I don't regret it," I kissed at her ear and then one more time over her mouth.

At the door, I didn't think I should look at her again. I embraced her, smelled her, felt every single piece of her. I quelled the frantic longing to lock her inside of me.

Clenching my jaw and looking above her head, I turned to Bella as I pushed her away, first by her wrists, then by her hips, lastly by her shoulders drooping, extinguished of fight.

"I'm not sorry." Bella was proud, strong.

Marching her back, I opened the door behind her, held her cheek just to feel that satin skin now mottled with flushed sex and the most soul-deep sorrow. I looked at her ear, the skin of her lobe I'd sucked and nibbled on too recently, down to her chest battling for oxygen.

Because we knew this was goodbye and just couldn't let it go without a rise from the other, not like this, not statues capable of fucking, making love, passionately loving each other and then stoically subduing every human instinct to stay and fight and love and dream and sleep and be. Because of that, Bella's eyes, at my final look, were poisonous polluted brown, undiluted with fury and fright and dread, "So, you got what you were after, did you, Edward? A quick fuck, huh? You finally got in my pants, screwed me good and hard so I'll have trouble walking tomorrow and will never be able to erase the sight of your orgasm washing over your face from inside of my head! And this is it?" She yelled and lunged once, managing to scrape a long wound down the middle of my bare chest.

Unable to recognize the gravelly mortuary heap of my voice, knowing it was mine, I spoke in a hush, slowly so Bella would never mistake my words even though she would understand the truth, the falseness of my intent, "Yes, Isabella. Something like that."

Her orbs turned to graves of dirt.

"Don't, don't go."

This was not grace.

"It's not so nice when the other person is leaving, is it Isabella?"

I never wanted this.

In denial, despite my repulsive words, Bella leaned up with one hand to my face and the other lowering my chin, so I had to watch the light leaving her eyes in goodbye, "I don't believe you, Edward."

I shut the door and collapsed against the frail barrier, knowing she was stood paralyzed on my stoop, "I love you."


Bella was right not to believe me.

I couldn't change the path of time.

I couldn't scrub away my heart's only passion.

I was unable to cease reliving the exact moment I'd buried myself so deeply inside Bella I didn't understand in from out, life from death, love from hate.

I could never forget the past.

I'd already forfeited my future.

I ran and ran and ran.

So alone.


I didn't hear from Jasper or from Bella. That was to be expected. I'd left no forwarding address for my sabbatical from New York University, a station beneath me I'd accepted to be near her. I spoke to my parents, who were still proud citizens of Forks, as often as I could stand the hurt in their voices, their disappointment that I'd left the country, their remorse that at twenty-nine years old, I was still on my own.

The snake ate at me; the gawping hole where my heart was supposed to beat riddled me. I thought I hid it well enough to go about my daily business, but I caught the pitying looks, the sidelong glances, the whispers that ceased when I entered a room.

Returning from a few pints at The Punch and Judy in Covent Garden, I'd made my way from the tube stop through what was formerly known as Hyde Park to my terraced house.

I was just closing my door, locking the deadbolt, when a knock resounded outside. A rap-rap-tap-tap-tap I recognized.

Immediately spinning, pining and feeling faint, I slowly unloosed the chain and pushed down on the latch.

Isabella. Bella.

A flush stole across her cheeks. A bloom and new roundness made a novel and intriguing and gorgeous rendering of her features.

My heart quailed, then sped as if to take flight on downy wings.

For a small instant, she leaned into the doorjamb, fatigue sliding over her form.

Wanting to hug her close, hold her so hard, push my hands through her long chestnut waves, and sink to my knees at her feet never to let her go, I was cast in place, a gargoyle, as my blood crashed to the outer reaches of my limbs and up through my brain with toppling dizzying speed!

I couldn't smile or frown or express anything other than stupefaction.

I simply could not take her to me again only to have her depart for Jasper one more fucking time.

Fear beat back the faintest bit of hope, and I hardened into rigid plains. My lips were stony, and the words I uttered low and bleak, "Bella, please leave. Don't do this to me again."

She paled and wrapped both hands around her stomach; I followed the action like a man enthralled.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as she clamored a bit more closely to me.

My posture shifted, muscles unleashed, my heart understood what my head would not.

Placing my hand just above hers, atop her belly, I felt it too.

The flutter-kick of a being inside the sweetling swelling of her womb.

A palm over mine skimmed my hand over engorged breasts that beat rapidly like a frightened rabbit's, over the elegant neck I'd only tasted once, to her mouth that was open so gusts of hot air warmed my fingertips and words I never imagined I'd hear made a moist shape on my skin, "Edward, I've loved you for a very long time."

My eyes closed then opened as I read the truth in her slight smile; shy, wishing, wanting, hoping.

A grin made my lips widen, a spark flared finally, finally, in my seaglass eyes.

Wonder made me bend low to suckle and nuzzle the corner of her berry mouth so that I heard, and felt, something I knew to be real and us and forever, "Edward. I love you!"

I heaved against Bella to be brought up short by the bulge between us and her giggle of absolute joy, "Edward! I'm pregnant with your child."

Shaking my head, I stopped thinking. I did find myself on my knees, my face to her belly bursting with a life we'd created. I crawled backwards off the steps and into my house, pulling Bella with me.

Around her gorgeous, life giving, robust body, I slammed the door shut and laughed against our baby inside.

Inside, we were shielded.

Inside, we were home.

Outside, Jasper remained. I didn't know where, or what Bella had told him though I was certain, knowing him as I did as my brother for all these years, his torment would rival my own.

His would last for infinity.

Even while it healed, my heart broke.

This was grace, without perfection.

I raised my eyes and felt the trickle of tears sliding down my face to be followed by Bella's fingers. I smiled through the liquid. I stood again. I breathed. I felt her. I understood haven and blessing.

And belonging.

And Heaven.

Kissing longly, deeply, wetly, I plucked away just once to be certain, "Bella, please, don't ever leave me again."

She shook her head so vehemently that even her tum jiggled against me, "You are my home, my love."

~I just think I need more romance in my life. You?~

Thanks ladies for the love, let me know what you think of this variation on Jealousy! I just read through it after posting (pesky spelling errors!) and am not entirely happy with some of the passages, so, apologies for that. Still.

I do want to say I'll be starting Fairytale next week. And it will be a full-on supernatural, phantasmagorical, sensual and beautiful AU love story, so please do alert me.