Entry for the Obsession Contest

Title: Up. Side. Down.

Penname: BettiGefecht

Characters: Bella and Edward
(Vampire/Human; AU; OOC ...or not;
Rated M for language, lemons and leeches)

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns everything Twilight.
(I own a ticket for the Eclipse premier in Chicago)

Lyrics Inspiration: (from 'Obsession' - Siouxsie and the Banshees)
I broke into your room - I broke down in my room.
Touched your belongings there - and left a lock of my hair
Another sign for you

Summary: Singer Bella Swan needs a pianist.
Vampire Edward Cullen auditions for the job.
We all know, three days are enough to change... everything.
Don't we?

.


UP. SIDE. DOWN.

"It's Edward Cullen, period," she says, coloring her voice with as much determination as possible. Sick and tired of the previous discussion, she tosses the questionnaire onto her manager's lap. Four hours of auditions have worn her out, and Tyler is trying her patience. She ignores his grimace of disapproval and stands, ready to leave.

"I still think we should give that Mike Newton guy a chance. He played well and his stage presence-"

"Tyler!"

He sighs, skimming through the paper again, "Cullen's good at the keys, but shit, Bella, there's something about that guy... he sort of creeped me out, ok? Did you see his eyes? And he didn't even enter a permanent residence in-"

"So what? He's a musician, Tyler, I heard some of them just stay where their engagements lead them. Sounds familiar? He can have the guestroom." Hells, it won't be the first time, and her decision is made.

Edward Cullen owned the baby grand; he was brilliant, charismatic. When Tyler thanked him and rattled out the usual 'don't call us, we'll call you' speech, she was still staring at his hands. Fuck, she moans internally, those hands made love to the piano.

"You're tired, Bella, and it's been a long day. Why don't you just sleep on it and we'll decide tomorrow?"

She hisses irritably. "Which part of 'I want Edward Cullen in the band' didn't you understand?"

"Maybe you should check your blood sugar, just saying..." Tyler huffs.

She's had enough. "This conversation's over. Hire him."

.

.

.

Edward Cullen, the vampire, watches Bella Swan, the singer, as she takes her time studying his fake artist résumé. Little does she know, he thinks.

And little does she reveal.

Never in his over one hundred years has he found a silent mind like hers. She is an anomaly, stirring something inside of him that he hasn't felt in decades: curiosity. Maybe more than curiosity...

Her body speaks all the more loudly to him, her frailty flashing like the neon sign of the club where the auditions are held. She is disturbingly weak, even for a human. And yet she oozes some odd strength.

He stops wondering about that strange contradiction, as he lays his fingers on the keys to produce a series of tripping arpeggios. He smiles slightly at the voluminous sound; the instrument is well tuned. He doesn't have to look at the sheet he's been handed out. He knows the piece; his hands know the piece, and they start working through it on their own while his thoughts return to the enigma that is Bella Swan. Unable to read her mind, he reads her body instead.

Everything about her physique spells 'wrong!'

The sound of her blood running through her veins... wrong.
A low humming in A minor, eerily matching the key of his piano playing, but almost inaudible. Even for his non-human ears who are able to separate different frequencies and tune them on and off at will.

Her smell... wrong.
Edward draws in a deep breath. Diabetes? Most likely. Nicotine. Lots of meds, too. Yet her scent is alluring in a preposterous way. For a moment he wishes to feed her, instead of feeding on her. Where does that come from? Taken aback, he stops breathing.

The rhythm of her heart... wrong.
Fast but unsteady, missing a beat or two every now and then. Carlisle could come up with a Latin term for it, but even Edward can tell it isn't healthy.

The sound of her lungs breathing... wrong.
Especially for a singer. Labored, rattling. He wonders how she can even sing. Or make it through a two-hour show without collapsing?

Such a weary, little human she is, combating her own fragile frame, refusing to listen to the pleading of her scandalized flesh, willing it to obey.

Edward is intrigued. And frustrated. Oh, how he craves to get access to her thoughts and learn about the secret power that keeps her going while every single cell of her human form screams at her to give in already.

Someone should be watching over her...

He focuses on the man who's been speaking on her behalf; Tyler. His thoughts are hostile, loud and unpleasant. No way... fucking glamour boy... forget it... only over my dead body... she's mine... do me a favor, beau, hit a wrong note... come on, just once... we don't need a fucking Calvin Klein underwear model in this band... she's mine...

That man isn't caring, he is just possessive. He wants her - or to be more precisely, he wants to fuck her. Edward involuntarily lets go a low growl, much to his own surprise. His flawless piano play doesn't falter for a second, as an irrational but overwhelming urge to protect her brittle beauty washes through him. He turns his head to look at her.

Her gaze is fixed on his hands, her brows slightly knitted together as if she's going to cry. As if she's completely lost in the music that drops from his fingers. A faint blush has colored her cheeks, the rosy shade begging for him to touch her small face.

Edward doubles his efforts and improvises a deceptive cadence, silently willing her balking mind to choose him. The final chords still resonate when Tyler curtly dismisses him. Bella hasn't spoken, nor has she looked up once. Yet Edward finds it hard to go and leave her behind, unprotected. He throws her a last glance. Choose me, he thinks, I will protect you, no matter what...

The call comes only hours after the audition. Tyler isn't happy; Edward can hear him grind his teeth through the phone. Bella Swan has made a lonely decision and has carried it home against her manager's opposition. Edward is impressed; the fragile little human has got her way...

.

.

.

UP.

(Day One)

The guestroom is an unexpected bonus; especially because during the three weeks of rehearsal, Bella will inhabit a room on the same floor. In fact, their rooms are so close that he can easily hear her walk, talk and even breathe through the walls. Edward is very pleased with this arrangement.

He isn't pleased though when she doesn't show up at his first rehearsal, immediately wondering if something has happened to her. They're in a threesome, just him and his two bandmates. There is Jake, a tall Native American, on the upright bass. A fun guy, open and relaxed. Despite of his strange smell, Edward likes him at once, but decides to breathe as little as possible around him. The drummer is a girl, Angela, who never lays her brushes aside. When she isn't behind her drum kit, she's practicing rolls and fills on her jeans-clad knees. She doesn't talk much but smiles a lot.

They spend an hour together, getting acquainted. They jam a little and build up a nice chemistry which Edward would be enjoying if he weren't so anxious about the whereabouts of Bella. Her barred mind makes it impossible for him to spot her. He scans the thoughts of each and every person in the building but finds nothing. Does anyone care enough about her to even think of her? Don't they know she needs protection? He hastily excuses himself. He must find her. Now.

.

.

.

Bella is leaning against the doorframe of his room as if waiting for him, and Edward shudders with relief at her sight. She takes a drag of her cigarette and inhales deeply. Puffs of smoke emerge from her nose and mouth as she greets him, "Hey."

"Hey," he answers. Seeing her poisoning herself like that is highly irritating, but he fights back his anger and musters the best calming smile he has. He doesn't want to scare her, now that she's facing him straight on for the first time.

Humans usually wouldn't look him in the eyes; their unconscious always sensing the aura of danger. But she once again reverses the laws of the universe as she holds his gaze all too easily, making him feel slightly uncomfortable. Her eyes are a dark brown... deep, earthen wells which reveal nothing of her innermost thoughts, deceiving Edward's secretly nourished hopes.

"How did you guys get along?" she asks.

"We did great, I think."

"That's good to hear." Bella takes another drag of her smoke which makes him involuntarily screw his mouth. She tilts her head, her eyes slightly narrowed. After a few moments, she bends forward, bringing her face closer to his.

Wrong! He winces, surprised by the sudden proximity. Does she have no survival instinct at all?

"This annoys the shit out of you, huh?" she whispers, holding up the cigarette between them.

Startled, Edward wonders since when he's become that transparent. "I just don't get why you do that to yourself," he mumbles, making a note to himself to pay more attention from now on.

"The answer is, because I want to, Cullen. And besides, it's none of your business, right?"

They stare at each other silently. It's him who loses the battle and casts down his eyes first. "Right," he says.

What the hell?

.

.

.

That night, Edward lies on his bed, dead still as only vampires can be, and waits impatiently for her to fall asleep so he can eventually sneak into her room... to watch, to touch, to learn. However, the first thing he learns that night frustrates him to no end: Bella is an insomniac.

She needs sleep, that much he knows; more than any other human she needs to rest. But even after she has stopped moving around her room, he can tell from the sound of her heartbeat and breathing that she is still wide awake. Edward keeps on listening, anxiously.

After a while he hears the muted creak of box springs as she gets up from her bed. She leaves her room; her naked feet are pit-patting across the floor until they stop at Edward's door. And then her hand is on the knob and the door opens with a gentle click. Incredulously, he realizes that she is beating him to it... she is coming to his room, assuming he is sound asleep. Wrong!

He possesses enough presence of mind to keep his eyes shut and start breathing, slowly and deeply, like a sleeping human would. Her scent hits him with might this time; intensified by her hair which is still damp from the shower she has taken earlier. He feels like he's getting high on it. He wants to rake his hands through the silky strands and rub them against his face.

His senses tell him that she is standing at the foot of his bed, watching. He almost growls in frustration, wishing he could read her mind, more desperately than ever. After a while she walks over to his small bathroom; he can hear her open a drawer and rummage around. She's not even trying to avoid any noises. He recognizes the faint scraping of something metal, maybe scissors. She returns and she's much closer now; so close that Edward can feel the warmth radiating from her delicate frame. He fights the urge to hold his breath as her smell, now painfully intense, screams at him to grab her and bury his face in her hair.

After what seems like an eternity, her footsteps diverge and the door clicks shut. In a split second he sits upright. She's gone, but her scent isn't. It still surrounds him, spurring a new hunger for her. He finds the source of this sweet torment on his pillow and stares at it, unbelieving.

She has left him a lock of her hair.

With a very human-like gasp, Edward clutches the unexpected gift, presses it against his nose and inhales. His throat is burning, his erection throbs angrily.

"Bella..." he moans.

.

.

.

SIDE.

(Day Two)

Like the first time, she doesn't attend rehearsal. Unable to stop wondering what possessed Bella last night to do what she did, he runs through his piano parts only halfheartedly. Yet his bandmates are deeply impressed with his performance. By the time Edward excuses himself, anxious to see whether Bella would wait for him again, Jake considers him a genius, and Angela is about to develop a huge crush on him.

It is like the day before: Bella, leaning against his door, waiting, smoking, locking eyes with him. But something is different, something about her smell...

"How was rehearsal?" she asks.

"Good," he answers, thinking about the piece of her that he keeps hidden in the drawer of his nightstand. A sudden inspiration hits him and he fakes a yawn. "But it was exhausting. I think I will be asleep before I even hit the mattress."

"That bad, huh?" she smirks, eyeing him suspiciously. "You don't look tired."

Without premonition, she takes a step forward, grabs his chin and pulls his face closer as if to examine his eyes. Edward gasps as his throat suddenly goes up in flames. Her smell... it is the smell of her blood, so much stronger than it should be. Is she bleeding?

"Oh fuck," she says, rubbing her thumb along his jaw, "I smeared you with a bit of blood, sorry..."

She doesn't look sorry at all, as she holds her index finger up. There's a small drop of blood on the tip, a shiny crimson bead. Venom pours into Edward's mouth and he swallows hard.

"No problem," he croaks, "How..."

"I just checked my blood sugar. Sometimes it doesn't stop bleeding at once, you know... no big deal," she explains innocently and puts her finger in her mouth.

Edward groans internally and closes his eyes. Still he can hear the sound of her sucking the blood from the tiny wound, perforating his self-restraint, and he wonders briefly if she is doing this on purpose.

"Good night, Bella," he whispers and turns to seek refuge within in the four walls of his room, to compose himself, and maybe to take care of the painful tightness inside his pants.

.

.

.

He doesn't have to wait long. Like the night before, she sneaks inside and keeps standing at the foot of his bed for a while, watching him. The anticipation is hard to bear... what will she do this time? She is barefoot again, and he can't hear much of fabric rustling. Edward assumes that Bella is just in her underwear, and he assumes right. What wouldn't he give to be able to look at her now? But he keeps his eyes shut, giving the perfect image of a sleeping human, deep breathing and rapid eye movements and all. Yes, this time he is prepared.

However, he isn't prepared for what happens next.

Bella in his bed, Bella straddling his hips, Bella pressing her hot sex against his erection above the bedspread... that's when Edward begins to fear for his sanity. Does this woman have a death wish? 'Wrong!' his mind roars.

It takes every ounce of strength for him to keep up the charade. What is he supposed to do now? How would a sleeping human, a human man, react to such an assault? Should he move? Should he pretend to wake up? Should he grab her and spin her around and bury his hard cock inside her and sink his teeth into her neck? Should he-

"Such a healthy sleep you have, beautiful," Bella quietly chuckles, thankfully interrupting the course his thoughts have taken. Edward forces his mental frenzy to a halt; nothing about his posture gives away the internal battle he is fighting.

He remains perfectly still when he feels her tiny finger briefly graze his bottom lip.

He remains perfectly still when he hears a click along with the underlying sound of something sharp piercing her soft skin.

He remains perfectly still when the dazzlingly wrong, beguiling scent of her blood explodes around him.

But he fists the bed sheet and groans when her tiny finger once again touches his bottom lip, coating it with her crimson. 'Why...?' he thinks incoherently, while his vampire instincts rattle wildly at the bars of their cage.

"The answer is, because I want to, Cullen," she whispers, and then she is gone.

Edward Cullen, the vampire, growls like a lion as he licks his bottom lip, tasting the sweet essence of Bella Swan, the singer. Mine... mine... mine... he internally chants with every stroke of his hand until his mind goes blank and he cums onto his stomach with a dry sob.

.

.

.

DOWN.

(Day Three)

When Edward enters the rehearsal room, he is puzzled to find it empty. He sits down on the piano bench to wait for Jake and Angela, lazily stroking the keys. His hands still when he hears the clack of high heels coming near, and he turns around in time to watch Bella enter the stage.

"Hey, Cullen," she says, making a beeline towards the baby grand, "everything alright?"

"Sure," he answers, barely hiding his surprise as she drops herself onto the bench next to him and rests her hand on his thigh. He immediately grows hard from her touch. The memory of her body on top of him and her blood on his tongue flashes through him and he licks his lips.

"It's the two of us today, Jake and Angela aren't coming. I want to try the ballad, just you backing me on the keys, if you don't mind."

Edward doesn't mind. "That's fine. Which one is it?"

She lifts her hand from his leg, much to Edward's regret, and turns her head to look him in the eyes. "It's the one called 'More than you know'. Do you have the sheet?"

"I know it by heart," he answers.

Like I know the song of your flesh by heart.

He fixes his eyes on hers, golden to brown, as he listens to the familiar tune of her blood, the fractured rhythm of her weak heart, the faint rattling underlying her breath. She holds his gaze, and her luscious lips curl up into a smile. Her fearlessness is disturbing him and arousing him in equal measures.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to start then?"

Without taking his eyes off her, Edward Cullen, the vampire, raises his hands to the keys and starts playing the gentle intro. Without taking her eyes off him, Bella Swan, the singer, opens her mouth and starts singing in a breathy voice.

More than you know
More than you know
Man of my heart, I love you so
Lately I've found you on my mind
More than you know

After the first verse, she closes her eyes, but Edward doesn't look away. She tilts her head and draws in a deep breath, before she sings the next lines with so much power and passion, that he wonders how her small chest can inhabit such a strong voice. She is stunning. His fingers which caressed the keys before, strike them now forcefully to meet every emotion that pours from her lips.

Whether you're right
Whether you're wrong
Man of my heart, I'll string along
I need you so

He stops with a broken chord before the last line, and her eyes fly open, piercing into his again. One second passes, and another... then they finish in a heartfelt, perfectly timed ritardando.

More than you'll
e...ver...
know...

In the silence that follows, their breathing seems unnaturally loud.

She speaks first, "That was..."

"...amazing!" he says.

She puts her hand on his thigh again. "Yes."

Reluctantly, he lays his hand over hers. "So... what's next?" he asks, looking down to where his cold fingers touch the silky texture of her warm skin.

"I don't know," she shrugs, "we're done here, I think. Meet me upstairs?"

"What for?"

"What ever you want, Cullen. Watch me smoke and get pissed off. Pretend to sleep and wonder what I look like in my undies. Drink my blood and try not to kill me..."

One moment, Edward is serenely holding her hand, and the next moment he is at the opposite end of the stage and a loud growl rumbles through his chest.

She knows!

"Oh my god," Bella breathes, rising from the bench. "How the fuck did you do that?" Slowly, as if approaching an untamed animal, she walks over to him. "You are impossibly fast..." she states. And as she raises her hand to his shoulder to brush off pieces of the plaster that broke under the impact of Edward crashing against the wall, she adds, "...and strong."

He stares at her, trying to grasp what's going on. If he only could get into her head for just one second...

And then it hits him. "So what, you... you read minds?"

"Just like you, right?" she says, "But you can't read mine... that must be quite frustrating." She leans in and brings her mouth to his ear. "What are you, Cullen?" she whispers.

Edward moans at the sensation of her hot breath against his skin, and closes his eyes, defeated. "If you were reading my mind all the time, you're ought to know what I am."

She grazes his jaw with the tip of her nose. "Your mind, Cullen, is like a mirror to me. Whenever I dip into it, all I can see is myself. You are obsessed with me, aren't you? If you only could decide whether you want to heal me or kill me..." Her lips brush over his and she grinds her hips against him, making his hard cock twitch. "I know you can kill me, but can you heal me? Can you make me feel good?"

"Bella..." he groans desperately. He grabs her shoulders, but he can't find it in him to push her away.

"Are you a vampire or something? My blood... it makes you thirsty, it made you hard last night. Just like now..." She shoves one hand down between them and palms him over the fabric of his pants.

"Bella!" This time it comes out as a growl, and he involuntarily tightens his grip on her shoulders.

She flinches and answers with a hiss, "Careful, Cullen!"

He lets go of her, and she takes a step back, rubbing her upper arms. "Ouch," she pouts.

"I'm sorry," Edward whispers, "you should stay away from me."

She slowly shakes her head no. "I'm not afraid of you; I just bruise easily. Remember that when you meet me upstairs." And with that, Bella Swan, the singer, turns around to leave Edward Cullen, the vampire, in a turmoil of mixed emotions, some of them remnants of a life long forgotten.

Desire.

Anger.

Embarrassment.

Desire.

Lust.

Uncertainty.

Desire.

Fear.

Desire.

Desire.

.

.

.

She waits patiently, knowing he will come to her. He might still be in denial about it, but she has seen it in his mind; he doesn't have the strength to stay away from her any more.

She wonders if he is immortal... a mirthless laugh escapes her at the thought. You better not waste time, Cullen, she thinks sarcastically, because my time is definitely limited.

Bella Swan is vividly aware of the fact that she is going to die. Well, everyone is going to die, the clock ticking from the day of their birth; there is no cure for it. Only her clock is ticking faster than that of the average human being. She is 29, and her life expectance from here adds up to an additional twelve, maybe fifteen years.

Sitting on the edge of Edward's bed, she looks down on herself. Her traitorous body has failed her miserably, and she considers it her personal enemy. At some point, she decided to ignore it... the constant pain, the regular feelings of faintness, the shortness of breath – she doesn't pay attention to it any more. She also decided that for the time being she would shake off any fear or shame and just do what she wants. And since that day nothing could stop her, nothing could scare her or intimidate her, nothing could steal her thunder.

Life is too short for morality and polite demureness... well, hers anyway. Bella Swan always does what she wants, and always gets what she wants. And now she wants Edward Cullen.

And Edward Cullen she will have. Because she's made sure that he's burning for her, in every way possible.

.

.

.

By the time Edward finally realizes that everything Bella has done was meant to nurture his desire for her, a great calmness comes over him.

She knows what he is, but she isn't afraid.

She saw into his mind and gave him what he craved the most... a lock of her hair when all he could think of was her overwhelming scent... a drop of her blood when the burning in his throat erased nearly any other thought...

She knows he can kill her, she even knows part of him wants to kill her, but she has shown him unmistakably that she wants him.

By the time Edward realizes that Bella is perfectly familiar with the concepts of 'dangerous' and 'wrong' but just doesn't care, he gives up fighting it.

.

.

.

When he enters his room and finds her naked in his bed, he leans back against the door to drink in her sight. She raises her arms over her head and her supple tits perk up. Nothing about her female form - not her toned stomach, not the soft curve of her hips - gives away the rapid, implacable process of decline it is exposed to. She lolls lasciviously, smiling at him... all woman, all confidence, all invitation. She is perfect.

"Take your clothes off," she orders, and he obeys.

She rolls onto her side to watch him undress, granting him the view of her pussy - her bare pussy – and his tongue slides out to lick his lips. He grows even harder, if that is possible, and getting rid of his jeans and boxers is quite a relief. Edward isn't breathing, but he remembers the smell of her arousal.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers.

"So are you," she smiles.

"Only from the outside, inside I am-"

"Just like me," she interrupts. "I don't mind. Why don't you come here and relax?" She pats the space next to her.

Edward closes his eyes and sighs, "I'm afraid."

Bella laughs, "Well, isn't it ironic...!"

"I know," he agrees with a wry smile, "You turn everything upside down."

She doesn't answer but her eyes narrow. Edward isn't exactly comfortable, knowing she is inside his mind right now, knowing he can't do anything about it. He tries to trace her mental presence; shouldn't he be able to feel her... invasion, somehow? Does the chaos inside his head even make any sense?

Apparently, it does.

Bella chuckles darkly. "The answer is, because I want to, Cullen." And after a few moments, she adds, "I know, but I don't think you will break me." And then, "I promise. Don't worry, I'm not a masochist."

She pats the mattress again. "Come, lay down with me." And once more he follows without hesitation.

"On your back, please," she commands, softer now, and climbs on top of him to straddle his hips, delighted with what she feels and sees. Rock-hard... He tenses underneath her and bares his teeth. Razor sharp... Bella gently touches his flawlessly modeled torso, cold and hard like marble against her palms. Bulletproof... and perfectly still.

"Breathe, Edward - you will like it," she whispers, and his chest rises under her hands.

He carefully draws in one single breath and moans as the thick smell of her juices envelopes him. It thankfully masks the fragrance of her blood enough to keep the fire in his throat in check. A delicious heat centers itself in his groin, and his hardness throbs urgently against her wet sex.

She's right. He likes it.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks in a strained voice.

"Whatever you want, Edward, just like I said. You can drink my blood..."

Edward's eyes widen and he gasps. She grinds herself against him, making him buck his hips, as she continues,

"...but I would clearly prefer some foreplay, like... you could make love to me the human way for a start."

He opens his mouth to protest, to tell her it is impossible. But she rocks her hips a little more, coating him with her slick arousal, and the only sound falling from his lips is a word he never has uttered before.

Edward Cullen hisses, "Fuck!"

He watches her from under half closed lids as she keeps on moving, rubbing herself against him. She is strong and weak and beautiful and cruel. His fingers curl into the sheet; desperately fighting the need to touch her. She is relentless. She is divine. She is everywhere; her heat is everywhere. There's nothing but her. She is everything.

His eyes roll back into his head.

Bella.

He will give her everything she's asking for.

Bella.

He will give her everything.

Everything.

Her hips rise. He feels a brief chill at the loss of skin contact. He feels her small hand between them. He feels her hand right where he needs her. He feels. He feels. Inch by inch, he feels. And then she is around him.

Bella.

She rises. And then she slides down again. And again. And again.

Bella.

And he feels.

Everything.

Her breath is coming short now, mingled with soft sighs. She's around him and inside of him. She moves slowly, whispering to him between pants. Her words are floating through his mind as if under water, their meaning dissolving as soon as they are spoken.

"When I say, don't think of a pink elephant, what do you think of, Cullen?" - "Right, a pink elephant..."

She chuckles smugly. "Good boy..."

Her hips rise and fall around him, her voice pulls and pushes inside of him. He has no defense for it; his mind is a bare as his body.

"Are you immortal?" she asks, and the answer flashes in his head against his will.

"...indestructible?" - "You never get sick, right?"

Her movements pick up pace, and she moans, "Yes..."

"Were you born like that?" - "Can you walk in the sun?" - "How old are you?" - "Oh my God..."

She bends forward and the tips of her hair brush along his chest. Edward grips the sheets harder and they give in with a ripping noise.

"Do you kill people?" - "Oh, really...?" - "How did you become...?" - "Just three days?"

She is getting his answers, and with each piece of the jigsaw that falls into place, she's coming closer to her release. It is the beginning of his undoing, when he feels her walls gently tighten around him for the first time.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," she breathes, and that does it for him...

...his chest vibrates from a low growl and he grabs her waist and his hips jerk up and he thrusts into her faster, faster, and he hears her cry out and gasp and he knows she will bruise, he knows, he knows, but he just can't stop...

Bella welcomes the searing pain; it's like an old friend.

"Heal me, Edward," she rasps.

...he just can't stop, can't stop, because he feels...

There's something in her hands. A soft click and the faint sound of a needle piercing human skin. Her legs start to quiver; she's close... so close...

"Make me!" she groans.

...he feels and thrusts faster, harder, faster and he wants to give her everything...

Her finger traces his lips. Wet. Warm. Delicious. Red.

His tongue slides out and his throat is on fire. He snarls and flips her around, and his mind goes blank and he is pounding into her.

...faster, harder, faster, more, more...

The sound of her pelvic bone breaking is impossibly loud, but Bella doesn't feel the pain as wave after wave of her orgasm rocks her.

"Change me!" she screams.

...everything...

...everything!

Her soft flesh offers no resistance. Her blood pours into his mouth eagerly, as he spills himself into her with a final thrust. Her lids flutter and she moans.

"Save me..." she breathes.

She is around him and inside of him.

She is everywhere. She is everything.

He will be watching over her, every day of forever.

She is his life now.

.


A/N

My thanks to Azureeyedi for prereading and encouraging me.

My love to Uhyesplease (every day of forever, BB!) for betaing and being my friend.

The song "More Than You Know" was first published by Columbia Records, eleven years after Edward had been changed. You can do the math :) The singer then was Ruth Etting. My favorite version is from the movie "The Fabulous Baker Boys" (1989), performed by Michelle Pfeiffer (voc.) and Jeff Bridges (keys), two of my favorite actors. Yes, many faves here... It's worth to check it out: youtube(DOT)com(SLASH)watch?v=2jNrEjHBVOc

UPDATE A/N Aug.2010:
I'm happy to announce that this little story won judges pick in the contest.

Also, there is a short rendition of "More Than You Know", sung by myself now. If you'd like to listen:
stade-art-house(DOT)de(SLASH)MTYK(DOT)mp3

Thanks for reading.
Make my day and leave a review?

Betti Gefecht