M - Lemons.

Violent Femmes –Good Feeling

BPOV

One-Shot.

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Good Feeling

I squinted my eyes as I peered up to the sky. It was clear blue, the sun shining brightly.

Mothers with strollers, a motorcycle, cars. Everyone seemed to be out today, enjoying the good weather.

I stared back down to the brown chocolate in my hand. I broke off a piece, and nibbled on it. It was good. No endorphin rush, but good anyways.

I folded my legs Indian style and continued watching the activities around the supermarkets parking lot. I heard footsteps approaching and halting near me. I turned my head just as that person moved to sit next to me. I studied him as he lighted up a cigarette.

His hair was a mess on his head, sticking up at odd angles. The color was brown, leaning towards bronze. He was wearing a leather jacket, a helmet by his side. I glanced across the lot. The motorcycle was his then?

He shifted, and his gaze turned to me. He was just a bit older than me, around 25. He smiled a crooked smile at me. I tentatively smiled back.

"Hi." He said.

"Hi."

He watched me for a second more, a small smile still playing on his lips.

"You want one?" He offered, holding out his cigarette package.

I shook my head.

"No, thanks."

I didn't smoke. Not cigarettes anyway.

He shrugged and put them away in his pocket.

In response I offered my chocolate bar. "You want a piece?"

He did that smile again. "No, thanks."

I shrugged and broke a piece of for myself.

"I'm Edward." He said after a couple of minutes of silence.

"Bella."

"Hi."

I rolled my eyes, and smiled. "Hi."

"Do you need a ride Bella?"

My eyes zeroed back to the motorcycle.

"I might."

Edward got up and offered me a hand. I took it and got off of the ground.

"Where to?"

I shrugged. "Anywhere."

I grabbed my belongings and followed him over to his motorcycle.

"Is it going to fit?" I asked, pointing at the cello case in my hand.

"We should be all right." He answered. Again with that smile.

He gave me his helmet, and then we climbed on. He was right, it did fit.

We drove and drove until it started to become dark and we couldn't stop shivering from the cold. He pulled into the parking lot of a motel. He shut the engine, and turned to me, a question in his eyes. I lifted my eyebrows in a silent 'yes'. He gave me a nod and then climbed off, offering me a hand so I could do the same.

The lady behind the desk glanced between us.

"Here's your key. Room 341. Enjoy your stay."

We both thanked her and made our way to the room. I dumped my stuff on the bed and flopped back on it. Edward kicked off his shoes and joined me.

"You want to order some pizza?" He asked after a couple of moments gazing at the ceiling.

"Yeah, sure." I answered. I could suddenly feel my stomach, and pizza sounded like a good idea.

Edward made the call and came back to lie next to me again. His hand reached out to play with the tips of my hair.

"So, do you play?"

Confused I looked at him. He nodded towards the cello case above our heads.

"Oh. Just a little. My grandpa taught me. The cello was his."

"It's a beautiful instrument."

"Yeah."

"Will you play something for me?"

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"It got stolen years ago."

"Oh. Why do you carry the case around?"

"I use it as a suitcase."

"Oh."

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll play something for you some other time. If you'll find me a cello."

"I'll hold you to that."

Not long after that, there was a knock on the door. Edward paid the pizzaboy and set everything down on the little table.

We talked a little, and then a lot. And he was actually really nice. So, when we were lying next to each other later that night, I decided to kiss him. He didn't kiss me back, at first.

But I did it again. And again. And he gave in. A moan escaped me when his fingers caressed my skin.

He rolled on top of me, his hands roaming over my body. My clothes seemed to disappear and so did his. His fingers went lower and lower.

I was ready for this. So, so ready.

His hand made its way up again, and his hips rested against mine. Then he slipped in, and things weren't going as smoothly as they should have.

My cry was muffled against his mouth.

A tear slipped from my eye.

Too big.

Too tight.

I realized I wasn't ready at all. And he did too.

His mouth broke away from mine, his hips pulling back a little.

"What…?" Confusion was on his brows and he searched my face in question.

"Oh… fuck." He groaned as he noticed my tears, my expression. His head sunk into my shoulder, effectively breaking our eye contact.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He said against my skin.

He wasn't moving away, but not taking any action either.

An impasse.

"I still want to." My voice was barely more than a whisper.

His head slowly turned from my shoulder to my throat. His lips touching my skin in a way that made me shiver.

"That's a big decision you're making, baby girl. You really sure?" He asked quietly, skimming his nose along my jaw.

"It's not like the harm isn't already done." I tried to joke, but the look on his face said that he didn't think it was a laughing matter.

"We're not quite there yet." He warned me, glancing fleetingly down our bodies to emphasize his point.

"I want to." I repeated.

It wasn't like I wasn't scared. It hurt like hell. It was uncomfortable, and he wasn't even all in yet. But something in me just needed it. I needed to feel the pain just for the sake of feeling something.

"I'll go slow, yeah?" It came out as a question, his eyes searching mine.

I nodded, holding my breath in anticipation of what was coming.

I closed my eyes when I felt a kiss against my temple, and then another one against my cheek.

I sucked in a breath just before I felt his lips upon mine. My cry was muffled against them, as he eased in further. But this time, he didn't pull back.

His movement was slow and determent, telling my body the invasion was inevitable. And when his hips rested against mine completely, it was irreversible. He held still, letting my body adjust.

His lips released mine, and he studied my face. I searched his eyes and then nodded, to let him know he could go on.

He kissed me and then sunk his head into my shoulder. Slowly he pulled out and thrust back in. His pelvis rubbed mine for a second, and then he was gone.

And back.

Rub.

Gone.

It was okay.

When I felt his kisses on my skin it was better.

And when I focused on the rubbing, it became almost good.

And then, with a whisper in my ear, he promised me that next time would be fantastic.

His hand gripped my hip a little tighter, his movements became jerkier. A groan left his throat, and then another one.

"Fuck." He murmured quietly. His eyes closed, his brow furrowed.

We were going too slow to call it banging.

Too thoughtful to call it fucking.

It was lacking the love, so therefore it wasn't quite love making either.

But it was something. Me and him.

I started to thrust back, hesitant moans quietly leaving my mouth. And when I wrapped a leg around his hip, he was done for.

His arm gave out, and he let his weight sink me deeper into the mattress. Panting slightly, he lifted his head and kissed me. I let my hands slide into his hair, tugging the ends, as I kissed him back.

"You okay?" He asked me quietly.

I nodded. I think I am.

His hand traveled down to my stomach, resting there as he pulled out. It felt so strange.

He rolled onto his back, an arm across the bed in an invitation to snuggle up. So I did. My body rested against his side, my head on his shoulder. My hand traced patterns on the skin of his chest.

His body was warm, muscled, masculine. His jaw was strong, his eyes vibrant. He was considerate, thoughtful. We didn't make love, but it felt a little like we did.

His hand was softly rubbing my scalp in a soothing manner. Soon my eyes closed and my hand lay limply on his chest. I felt a kiss pressed to my forehead just before I was pulled into unconsciousness.

I woke up somewhere around 4 am. Our positions had changed. I was on my side, my back to him, an arm loosely across my waist. Warm, steady breaths puffed against my neck. He was still asleep.

I slipped out of the bed, quietly, so he wouldn't wake up. In the bathroom, I searched between my legs. It was slightly sticky, but no blood. I picked up a washcloth and run it under some hot water to clean myself up. I wasn't really sore, just a feeling that something happened down there.

I left the bathroom and rummaged through the cello case in search for clean underwear and a top. After putting them on, I searched around for the little bag with musky green leaves.

I opened the window and settled on the window still. I inhaled a puff of smoke and held it in my lungs to speed up the effects. I didn't smoke often, but sometimes I just needed to feel a little hazy. I felt my eyes drooping a little, and rested my head back. A tear slipped down over my cheek, and before I knew it I was crying. I didn't know why exactly, I couldn't explain what I felt. I should be happy. I had a good life. And even though he was practically a stranger, the first man who touched me was actually very sweet. If it had been someone from home, it would probably have gone a lot different. Maybe at a party, someone else's bed. Fumbling, awkwardness. Premature ejaculation.

No, this was a lot better than that. Than all of that.

But still, I was crying.

I heard a ruffle of sheets, and suddenly Edward was out of bed, pulling up his boxers. Het came walking over to me, taking in my state of being. The tears, the red eyes, the half smoked joint, it's tip glowing orang.

"You must think I'm crazy." I sniffled. I tried to wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand.

He said nothing, just shook his head and closed his arms around me, his chin resting on my head. He dropped a kiss on my hair and then tilted my head, rubbing tears away under my eyes.

"You're not crazy." He murmured. "You're sad."

I didn't reply, not sure how to. Instead, I pulled back a little from his embrace, and offered him to take a hit. He accepted. We finished it together, and I was a bit calmer by now. He tugged at my hand, and I slid down from the window still until my feet hit the floor. He guided me back to bed and wrapped me securely in his arms. The smell of his aftershave was still strong. Or was it aftershave? It was musky and manly. It made me feel all tingly inside.

"I don't regret it, you know." I whispered into the dark.

I felt him nodding.

"Edward?"

"Mm…"

"Take me with you to Chicago?"

His arms squeezed me, and in the softest voice he answered, "Sure, sweetheart. I'll take you."

He did. And then he found me a cello, and I played for him every day, and he would kiss me afterwards. He was right. The next time was fantastic. And then it really did become love making. Together we were magnificent.