To be consumed from an internal heat source so intense as to consume even the bones, but leave the immediate environment relatively unburned.
In a way it was ironic, albeit a bit unusual. The steady burn of fire spread through her body, her breathing heavy and labored. Clenching her eyes shut she could see the bright blue flames dancing across her eyelids, overpowering her and burning her alive.
Their relationship had been far from perfect, but in a way that was what had made it so memorable. She had been with the bastard for seven months when she had finally saw him for what he really was; a bastard.
Her friends had gallantly warned her of what he was, even before she had given him a chance. He was a cheater, a liar, and he would break her. And yet it had all seemed so juvenile and so gossipy that she had a hard time believing anything they were saying anyways.
She wouldn't make that mistake again.
It had been four fucking years since she had seen him. Four years of searching for something she was pretty sure she would never find again; but she had tried. Each touch of another's hand revolted her, each kiss tainted her lips. It was pure torture and yet she continued to search for a feeling, as fleeting as they may be.
Her heart was filled with a constant ache that never truly went away, no matter how alone or not alone she was. Although there had been moments, mere sparks, where she had wondered if it would ever truly be possible for her to move on, she had to acknowledge that he had in fact "broken" her for good.
She was un-repairable which in and of itself was a bit of a travesty. She had once been strong and independent and able to speak her mind. Yet here she sat in a coffee shop sipping the bitter dark matter as she listened to the man in front of her drone on about something she could care less about. Taking a deep inhale of the rich aroma she sat her cup down and looked into the man's eyes.
"Are you done talking yet?" she questioned. His eyes flashed with annoyance and offence and she couldn't help but smile at how utterly predictable this all was. "My apartment is just down the street."
The fucking was pure torture, and not the good kind.
He was handsy and slobbery and it was hard for her to even pretend that she enjoyed it. His mouth tasted funny, a too sweet toffee taste that was overpowering the bitterness of her coffee and her memories.
It was all wrong; his touch wasn't rough enough, his moans annoyingly porn-like, his kisses overshadowed by the tuft of a moustache above his lip. No it was nothing like what she was looking for and that made it all the more worse as he rolled off of her and lay at her side, humming in pleasure.
"You can leave now," she ordered as she rolled out of bed and made her way to the two-headed shower in the bathroom locking the door behind her.
The hot water pounded over her and she could hear his subtle movements through her bedroom. Scrunching her nose in distaste she replayed one of her favorite memories and took care of herself in the shower.
It wasn't the same, but nothing ever would be.
She sits in the coffee shop a book propped in front of her as her eyes scan the page. Alice had given it to her saying that it was something she just had to read. Instead of making her feel better it just further emphasized how unhappy and alone she truly was.
A voice clears their throat and she looks up, not surprised to find a man standing in front of her.
"Bella?" he questions, his voice like honey melting through the air.
"Yes?" she replies hastily, somewhat thankful from the distraction of her thoughts and of the book in front of her.
"I'm a friend of Alice's and she sent me here to meet you."
She is clearly confused and as she looks the man over she realizes exactly why Alice had sent him. His pants were hung low on his hips, his shirt was tight and black. He had haphazardly thrown an old jacket over the top of it, the cuffs of which were worn and ratted. His sunglasses lay low on his nose, blocking his eyes but showing off his prominent eyebrows. He kind of reminded her of him, which meant that maybe this time it could be good.
"What do you like to drink?" she questioned, her eyes scanning the small amount of scruff on his jaw. She unconsciously bit her bottom lip.
"Black coffee is fine," he replied, pulling the chair out and setting down in front of her. She made her way to the counter ordering herself a refill and a new cup for him. It doesn't take long for the drip and before she can get a really good look at him she is walking back to the table and setting the cups down in front of them.
He takes a sip before picking up her book and shaking his head. "I can't believe you read this junk."
She can't help the smile and falters for a moment. "Alice gave it to me to read. Although I do have to say it's not really my cup of tea."
As he studies the back cover she contemplates if she is really going to do this, knowing that Alice likely didn't send him to her just for a quick fuck. But her heart is racing, pounding in her ears, and she knows that no matter what she will get him into her bed, she has to.
Maybe this time would be different.
It doesn't take long for her to convince him to follow her down the street to her apartment and it takes even less time to talk him into coming up the stairs.
He is hesitant and unsure as he kisses her, but there is a small spark and it is more than she has felt in four long years. He waits in the hallway as she opens her door and as she tries to pull him inside he hesitates.
"Not this time," he whispers. After a few kisses he leaves and for the first time in quite awhile she isn't sure what to think. She likes it.
They spend months getting to know each other. It's not what she expects, what she has come to know, and that keeps her interested to a degree. The problem is that no matter how close she gets to Jacob he is not Edward, only Edward is Edward. He was the only man to love her, hold her, hate her, and possess her.
She can't bear the thought of being alone and yet she cannot bear the thought of settling for another day. It's for this reason that she finds herself outside of the familiar apartment, knocking lightly on the door.
It takes him a moment to answer and when he does there is surprise evident on his face. His hair is haggard and she can tell that he has just rolled out of bed. His shirt is old and torn and he wears a cocky ass grin on his face that pisses her off to a degree she can't even explain.
Four and a half years later and he's still so fucking beautiful.
She wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't this and she finds the ache in her chest growing and clawing at her insides.
Its torture; a blissful, aching, longing, fucking torture that eats away at her and makes her knees weak.
Something snaps inside of her, and she finds herself lost in his lips and his hands and that god damn smirk. Suddenly she is grabbing him, pushing him inside, her mouth attached to his. She slams him against the wall smiling at the groan that escapes his lips as she nips at his neck.
He pushes back, slamming her into the edge of the couch, tugging at her clothes, fumbling with the buttons and zippers that entrap her.
She makes a tsk noise, egging him on. He is all hands and heat and she can't take her eyes off of him as he rips her shirt from her and literally growls at what she is wearing underneath.
Her mind is buzzing, whirling deliciously out of control and she can't help but growl back as she rips his favorite shirt off of him, smiling as the material tears in her hands.
It's been four and a half fucking years and he still looks at her exactly the same way and yet differently. She's not just some inexperienced girl anymore and he is not her only lay. This thought seems to resonate with him and she finds herself pinned to his wall, her skirt flung up around her waist as he tries to possess her.
"Welcome back," he groans his voice gravelly and full of sleep.
"Shut the fuck up and fuck me." She is straightforward and to the point. He falters for a moment at her words before a breathless moan escapes his lips. The adrenaline is pumping through her body, the wall scrapping against her back and she can feel each of his teeth as they sink into the side of her neck.
"All you have to do is ask," he purrs in her ear, his tongue tracing the lobe of her ear. She weaves her fingers through his hair, gripping and pulling on the strands with fervor. His fingers grope her ass, shoving her panties to the side as he roughly enters her.
It's not romantic or gentle, but the harshness and possessiveness of it are exactly what she needed at that moment. Her legs wrap around him and he pumps into her forcibly slamming her into the wall. Her breath comes out in short gasps as he grinds into her, creating a new rhythm and friction that burns through her body.
She can feel the steady burn of fire spread through her body, her eyes clenching tight from the onslaught of feelings. She can see the bright blue flames dancing across her eyelids, overpowering her and burning her alive.
Edward's fingers flick and twist at her clit causing her to throw her head back into the wall. The mix of pleasure and pain intensifies the fire inside of her and she finds herself lost in his rhythm, the movement of his body. A few thrusts later and she finds herself shuddering to a climax the keen of her voice echoing throughout the room around them. Her body feels weak and she lets her muscles relax against the wall as he continues to pump into her recklessly.
He pins her to the wall, his fingers biting into the flesh of her hips as his mouth latches onto her earlobe nipping at the sensitive flesh. Her fingernails find his back and scrape down the length as she cries out into the air.
"That's it baby," he groans through his panting "burn for me."
He pushes into her once, twice, and a second wave of pleasure races through her body. He comes with her, a jumble of moans and curses stringing the air. They stand together for a moment listening to each other's gasping breaths. Without a word he leaves her and makes his way down the hall, moments later she hears the shower start.
For four and a half fucking years she had been searching for a feeling; of fire, of being consumed. Closing her eyes she watches the steady blue flames wither, flicker, and die. Adjusting her clothing, she makes the short trek down the hall and knocks on another familiar door.
"Bella," Jacob smiles pulling her into his arms.
"Happy birthday baby," she whispers running her fingers along his chest. If her clothing is amiss, her hair a tangled mess, he doesn't seem to notice as she enters the apartment where their friends are waiting.
This idea kind of just popped into my head and I tried to ignore it but it wouldn't go away until I wrote it out. I liked it enough that I thought I would share it, hopefully you like it as well!