Day 12, Prompt 23

25th December (Friday – Christmas Day)

Edward

Christmas morning rolls around, and I wake first, as usual. I stretch, yawn, and look at Rose sleeping beside me. This time, there is no frown etched into her brow. She's impossibly beautiful, and I can't stop myself from leaning over and kissing her. When I've kissed her once I can't stop myself from kissing her again. I keep on kissing her, light, gentle kisses and caresses on her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead. Eventually all the attention wakes her, and she grumbles up at me even as she's smiling.

"Morning, gorgeous," I whisper, kissing her ear.

She squirms and giggles and tries to push me away, but I'm stronger than her, and I have no intention of going anywhere. I move over her a bit more, trapping her between my arms, one knee between hers and keep on kissing her, nibbling all the way down from her earlobe to her collarbone

"What do you want?" She's acting all coy, her face still turned away from mine, but she can't help smiling, and she's holding me close, her arms tightening if I move more than half an inch from her.

"What do you think I want?" I can feel my erection pressing into her belly, and I push my weight down on her, rocking my hips forward slightly so she's left with no illusions as to what it is I want.

"Oh, I don't know," she says, feigning ignorance.

"You don't?" She shakes her head coquettishly.

"Well, let me give you a clue, then." I rock my hips again, more forcefully this time, and it feels good. It's been too long since we've been like this, too much time spent in pointless arguments and misunderstandings. I have to stop myself from groaning in pleasure, and just squeeze my eyes shut instead.

She smiles at me. "Oh, I see. You want me to take care of that for you?" She slides a hand down my side, round under my hips and trails the tip of one finger along the side of my cock.

I draw in a deep, slightly shuddering breath, and feel bereft as her hand returns to my back. "Yes please."

"Well, okay then." She's smiling, and she pushes at me, getting me to roll off her and lie on my back. She pushes back the covers and lies there, looking at me. The room is warm, but the air is still cooler than under the blankets, and the difference is delicious. She just looks at me, and I can almost feel it as her gaze travels up from my feet. She pauses as she reaches my cock, and a small smile appears on her face, and I feel myself twitch in response.

"Oh, you like that?" she murmurs. "You like me looking at you?"

I can feel myself getting harder in response, and have to clench my fists to stop myself just rolling back on top of her and taking her, hard. I keep perfectly still as she reaches out and strokes my thigh, sliding up the inside of my leg, her fingers a hair's breadth from my balls as she presses gently and sweeps up towards my hip. She does it again and again, never once actually touching me, and I'm aching from want and need, dripping on to my belly and desperate for relief.

"Please, Rose." She looks up and grins at me, and moves over to straddle my hips, still taking care that she doesn't actually make contact. She hovers there for what seems like an age, then finally I feel her hand around me, and I breathe in sharply. She's not stroking, though, just positioning me where she wants me, and just as I'm about to start begging again she drops down on to me, hard and fast and hot and I nearly come there and then.

She moves quickly, and I'm lost in a sea of sensation, her hand covering my mouth to keep me quiet.

"You don't want to wake up your mother, now, Edward, do you? What will she think?"

We move together, faster and faster and I can't help it, I can't wait for her, and I come hard, her hands hot on my lips as she muffles my groaning. She joins me almost immediately, throwing her head back with her mouth open and eyes shut as I start to regain consciousness.

She falls forward on to my chest, both of us breathing hard.

"Merry Christmas, Edward," she whispers, smiling. I grin back at her, too breathless to laugh.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

We lie together, smiling and cuddling and exchanging soft words until eventually we can't avoid the time and the sounds of my parents moving around downstairs any more, and have to get up.

{o}{o}{o}

My mother is singing carols in the kitchen as she peels potatoes ready for Christmas dinner. I sneak past the open door into the living room, and settle myself at the piano, the instrument I learned on as a child comfortingly familiar. I wait until my mother reaches the chorus, and then I join in, playing along with her. She stumbles over the first line, surprised at the sudden accompaniment, but then she's back, sounding more joyful and singing louder. We carry on like this for another couple of carols, me playing in one room, and mum singing next door. When we get on to the third song, my father's deep voice rumbles through from the kitchen, and by the second verse Rose is standing behind me, one arm around my shoulders as I play and we listen to my parents singing together.

I finish the song with a flourish and Rose tugs at my arm, drawing me to the door. She points and mouths "look". I peer out of the door, and I can see my parents hugging. My non-demonstrative, formal parents are hugging in the kitchen, surrounded by potato peelings. I look round at Rose, astonished, and she's beaming at me. Seeing my parents like this has surprised the life out of me, and suddenly I have to talk about our future with Rose, I have to make sure she knows I wasn't joking yesterday; I have to make sure she knows just how much she means to me.

I lead her over to the Christmas tree, and point at a small box that looks incongruous nestled among the branches. I step round behind her, my chin resting on top of her head and my hands folded around her waist, and whisper in her ear.

"It was going to come with a question today. But that can wait. I just wanted you to see it, to be sure… to know what you've got to look forward to. I love you, Rosalie. I love you with all my heart."

She opens the small box with trembling hands and stares at the ring nestled inside, the twinkling lights on the tree beautiful as their reflections dance in the diamond I let her look for a few minutes, then gently take the box from her, and pocket it. She turns in my arms and looks up at me with tears in her eyes.

"Next time you see that, I will be on my knees and asking you to marry me." I smile down at her and wipe away her tears with my thumb. "I love you. I love you so much."

She opens her mouth to answer me, her eyes betraying her nervousness and panic—but I press my fingers on her soft lips.

"Shhhhh…. You don't have to say anything right now. All in good time."

I hold her close and we kiss softly, gently. "It can wait. We have all the time in the world. For the minute, all I'm going to say is Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

"Oh Edward." She's finally found her voice, though it sounds thick with emotion as she wraps her arms around my neck and talks into my shoulder. "Merry Christmas."


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