Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.
This story was written for the Twilight Kink Fest. More stories can be found at TwiKinkFest dot Tumblr dot com
Original Prompt: E/B. Incest. They can Be brother and sister, or just adopted. Edward is older, Bella is a teenager (17). Edward goes into Bella's room at night to watch her sleep and masturbate while looking at her. Maybe touching her and lifting up her shirt while she's sleeping. Preferably ending with some hot sex.
Author's Note: Fiction is fiction. Not reality. If you can't follow me anywhere, do NOT follow me here.
Thank you to the prompt-er, darlingbaby, for letting me play with the idea. I hope I've done well. *hearts*
Over the Moon
Matthew Barber - And You Give: I was high. I was high, over the moon. Then came fall and even well fell hard, bruised our bodies, skinned our knees and our hearts. Then I got sick, yeah, but no one could tell. Now, I drink your love, drink it right from the well. And it's good, and it's good, right from the well. Wanna taste, wanna touch, wanna see and smell. And it feels, like it feels, heals me so well. Wanna drink, wanna drink, right from your well...
December 2010 - Edward Cullen
No. Fucking. Way.
I let go of my duvet and drag my hand down my face, like doing so is going to stop my mind from running away with me. Like there's anything I can do to keep from wondering, wishing, and hoping so hard.
I drop the half-smoked joint to the tray on my night stand and clasp my hands together behind my head. I stare down at my bunched up blue-grey sheets.
Before I left here, over Thanksgiving break, I made my bed. I remember making it all the way up and if my parents had guests stay, they'd have stayed in one of the guest rooms. My bed being only half-made now in an obvious sort of hurry doesn't make any sense. At all. The comforter was put back right, but when I pulled it back just now, underneath it, my sheets were left - are - a slept-in mess.
Bella, my mind murmurs and my heart hush-whispers, wishing, making my whole body heat warmer. Bella, Bella, beautiful, luscious-lovable, unfuckingtouchable little Bella, Bella, Bella...
I press the heel of my hand down where all my body heat is suddenly starting to burn solid. Fucking Bella.
The two words together only make my body heat harder. Turning, I blow another breath out and sit on the edge of my blankets and mattress.
Bella in my bed would be too much, miles past a dream come true. Bella between my sheets isn't only impossible, it's unspeakable. It should be fucking unthinkable, but I'm still learning to control that.
Elbows on my knees, I rest my forehead in my hands and close my eyes. I came in here to smoke and read, and take my mind off of Bella. She was wearing this tight white little sweater when she got home for dinner and she smiled her happiest, shyest small-smile for me, and her secret-ful dark eyes skittishly joyful behind her glasses...
I've been fucking trying to learn how to not think about Bella for years now.
She's seventeen and she's practically family. She's the epitome of off-limits for about a million reasons, but those two stand firmly at the top of the list. I can't think about her. I can't.
Bella, Bella, adorable, soft-spoken, soft, soft, so fucking soft looking all over, Bella...
I push my fingers through my hair again and remember how quiet she was when she first came to stay with us. She wouldn't eat anything and she wouldn't talk to Carlisle or Esme, or even Alice for months after her parents died. She didn't talk to anyone.
And even that took a few days.
Bella, my pulse pump-rushes through my veins. Bella, Bella, sweet, shy-smiling, so scared to be happy Bella, Bella, Bella-baby.
I was the seventeen year old then. She was only nine and already had so much weight on her little shoulders. We knew each other before, kind of. Our parents were best friends, but our age difference made for little interaction when our families got together. I was usually with my friends and she was a bashful child, pretty tightly attached to Renee's hip.
Then the car accident. And Bella...
Her parents had named mine her guardians in the case of anything so tragic. She came to live with us two days before the funeral and I wanted so much to help her however I could. It wasn't right, what had happened, that God could do that. She was so small and so broken. She couldn't be alone too. That was too much. I barely knew her really, but I couldn't let her be alone. I couldn't sit with the thought.
I don't know why she was more comfortable with me than my parents or sister, but she was.
The night of the funeral, she stayed in her room most of the evening. I stayed awake, flipping channels in the living room, craning my neck to check for the slip of light under her door every so often to see if she'd turned it out for sleep.
She never did.
A little before midnight, which I didn't know, but knew somehow had to be after her bedtime, she opened the door and came out still wearing her little black dress. Patent leather shoes off, dark hair still pulled in low-curled pigtails, she turned toward the kitchen. Her eyes were red-rimmed with hurt and her lips and cheeks were pink from crying. She froze when we saw each other.
"You okay?" I asked quietly, leaning forward from the sofa, internally chastising myself. Of course she's not okay. She's a fucking kid and her whole family is gone. She hasn't talked since the day it happened and she hardly knows you. What makes you think she's going to answer you even if she is okay?
Bella pressed her lips together. I thought maybe she was going to shake her head or nod her answer, but she shrugged instead.
My rarely careful or concerned teenage heart pinched in on itself. She didn't even know if she was okay or not, or maybe didn't even know what okay was anymore.
Without any other idea of what to do or how to help, I tried to remember being little and scared of bad dreams or strange sounds in the night. Even if my parents couldn't make them stop, not being by myself usually solved the problem. So, I pulled my legs up, changed the channel, and asked if she wanted to watch some TV with me.
And not even ten minutes later, she was out like a candle...
Popping my knuckles, I stare up at my ceiling now. I remember how she leaned as she slept, her body slowly moving with the weight of gravity until her light little head was resting on my arm. When my own eyes finally started to long for sleep, I didn't have it in me to shift or wake her. So, I dropped my lids for rest right there. And when I woke -
I shake my head, still heart warmed and unbelievably touched at the sound that woke me. The soft-sad-shy almost raspy trill of her little girl voice, the intonation she'd refused to share with everyone else.
I blinked awake at the lifting of her head from my arm. Bella blinked in sleepy slow-motion as I looked over. She rubbed her eyes.
"Are you okay?" I asked again. I started to chastise myself once more, but couldn't. She'd spoken. She'd actually spoken out loud. I thought about getting my parents, but I couldn't move to break up the level of comfort she'd somehow found. She'd spoken to me.
The slightest, quietest grumbling sound answered me before she could, and I remembered again that I hadn't seen her eat or drink a thing in days.
I glanced toward the kitchen. "Do you want something to eat?"
Bella nodded, pressing her top and bottom lip together. She blinked and looked down at the floor, over at the television, the walls, everywhere but at me. She picked at the black lace edge of her dress and kicked her bare little toes against the carpet.
Not wanting her to cry and fearing tears were all too close, I moved quickly. "C'mon," I said, standing up. "I'll make you something that always makes me feel better."
When I held my hand out, she took it in both of her smaller ones and she had me. Right there, for life, she had me.
She fucking has me.
Try and try, and try as I have to forget about her and let her be, my heart just won't let her go.
I relight the joint and lie back in my bed. I pull smoke and blow clouds of it toward my ceiling, and remember walking to the kitchen just like that with her. I remember her taking two or three steps for every one of mine, both of her hands curled around my fingers and clinging to my right hand. I remember pulling a chair up to the oven so she could watch and help me pour pancake batter into dinosaur cookie cutters on the skillet, and I remember sharing funny shaped t-rexes and triceratops with her in the breakfast nook at almost four in the morning.
I remember the shade of trust in her tired eyes and the pitch of pure-hearted gratitude in her voice when she said thank you, before she left for her room.
I remember knowing without a doubt that I'd always be there for her. Always. However I could. Any and every way that I could.
I pull a deep hit of dank comfort and close my eyes, frustrated.
But she grew. And I grew. And I was never not there for her, but she had her life and I had mine. Just a little over a year after the funeral, she was tucking Huck Finn notes into a Lisa Frank folder and I was leaving for UCLA.
Our lives grew further and further apart.
I visited every chance that I got, summer vacations and fall breaks, Christmas and Easter, and Bella was new with every return. Her height, her shape, her posture and the pitch of her voice, the length of her glances, the brindle swirl of innocence in her eyes. She was new to me every time, but she was still Bella, and sometimes, it made the black and white lines between us harder to see.
The first day she came in from swimming with Alice, wearing only bikini made the lines starkly clear though. We stopped holding hands that summer. She was fourteen. I was twenty two. The lines were uncrossable. Unquestionable.
I stopped coming home in the summer.
I traded roommates for my own apartment on the west coast. I started med school. I tried to relax in love with Angela.
And Jessica. I tried so fucking hard with Jessica -
And sometimes it wasn't bad. It was nice sometimes, to love and be loved, and to share in a kind of loving, but it wasn't ever just... natural. There was no feeling of being kept when their fingers held mine.
I tried not to think about it.
I studied and graduated, and did all the shit I had to do to reach residency at Cedars- Sinai, only visiting my family at Thanksgiving and Christmastime. I tried to love Bella the way I love Alice. I buried myself at both ends of the spectrum trying to let Bella go altogether, but I couldn't work her away anymore than I could blot her out with scotch and smoke.
She grew quiet as she grew taller, a bookworm-wallflower of a girl behind long dark hair and thinly framed glasses. She became like gossamer, so silent and light that her existence felt ethereal, but her hold on me never diminished.
The shorter our looks, the longer my sleepless nights.
The fewer our words, the more my wondering.
The higher her smile, the lower my hope at ever finding anyone else that could give the kind of light to my world that she did.
I tray the joint again and rub my high-lids with the heels of my hands. I don't feel as tense, but my chest still aches because what's inside it still yearns.
It's familiar. It's tolerable. It's hers.
Blowing a breath out, I turn slightly onto my side to reach for my phone.
I think I was going to check the time, but when my hand was halfway to my night stand, I forgot. I've forgotten everything else right now, because I can suddenly smell Baby Magic and pomegranates.
I close my eyes and press my lips together, I square my jaw and try not to clench my fists. I'm immediately but not unexpectedly painfully hard and every heartbeat hurts, and only makes it worse.
Bella, Bella, Bella, whisper my ventricles. Special, precious, cherished, Bella, Bella, Bella, my other heart parts rush to reply.
The ripe fruit and so-clean scent all over my pillows is Bella. Her shampoo and her lotion, her hair and her skin. She was here. She was right fucking here.
Knowing I shouldn't, knowing I so shouldn't because it's only going to make everything harder, I swallow a groan, turn my face into my pillows and inhale deeply. I breathe her soft scent all the way down into my chest. I fill my lungs until my ribcage strains.
It's paradise beyond compare and it burns like fucking torture.
I press my hand down on where it hurts second most, because I can't take anymore weight on my chest. I would press on my heart because it aches the worst, but my cock carries its merciless beat. I bury my nose into my pillows and take another ecstasy incensing breath.
It twists, wanting her the way I do. It pulls and knots and cinches bitingly tight around the parts of me that love her so solemnly, so wholly and naturally and unconditionally.
I force myself out of bed and drag my burdens with me downstairs.
I pour two fingers of Chivas and down the sweet burn in a single swallow.
I pour another double and put the bottle away.
I breathe out the fraction of my frustration that scotch has turned into pure heat and turn back toward the stairs, because what else can I do?
It doesn't matter that she was in my bed or why. I'm twenty six and Bella's a teenage baby. She lives here, in this house, with my parents and my sister because we're her family. We're her family and I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't. Everything about feeling this way is complicated and uncertain, but knowing I shouldn't is simple, and totally transparent.
But my heart, my hands, my whole fucking body couldn't care less what my brain knows. It's secondary to this aching.
So I climb the stairs with heavy and unanswerable needing in my chest.
I shower, and I try to wash and wish and push her away.
I use her shampoo and stroke from base to tip and back again, and try to clean and cull and pull her from myself.
It doesn't help. I can't even come, I'm so conflicted.
I lean my forehead against the shower wall, letting the water cover my neck and shoulders, and slide lower to slip her soap from my body. I close my eyes and give up my fight to another in a long list of restless nights.
Patted and tousled dry, dressed in grey sweats and a black v-neck, I move from the bathroom to the hallway. My steps are weighted by the white flag my frustration has lifted. Accepting that I cannot have what I want all the way down to my bones, recognizing and respecting the lines our lives have drawn without a single bit of my permission, is never easy. And tonight, it's bordering backbreaking.
Before I turn to head back up the stairs, to my own room, I do what any deserter of battle would. I look toward the source of everything I struggle for. I look to see if her light is still on. I look to torment myself. I look because I can't even begin to help it.
There's no light coming from under her door, but the fact that it's not closed all the way doesn't escape me. It stops me still. She's left her door just unclosed, just barely open.
It's like a sign pointing toward home. And it draws me right back into fighting.
Only now, it feels less like a fight and more like an expedition, like a trek I haven't taken in years, but each step instantly familiar and every bit as comforting as it is thrilling.
Sometimes, when my wishing and wondering and needing was too much, I just had to see her. I've never touched her or moved any closer than the backside of her closed door, but I have let myself into her room before tonight too. I've leaned against her door and watched her sleep, and wished, and wished, and wished, and stroked from base to tip, and tried so hard to work her out of my heart…
I push the guilty memory from my conscience and lighten my bare foot steps. When I make it to her door, I put my hands on both sides of its frame and press my ear almost right up to it. I strain to listen to my heart, and to hear Bella's sleep-sounds instead of all the reasons my mind is firing at me to stop, turn around and leave her be.
She was in my bed.
She was in my bed.
I have to see her.
To see her.
Swallowing hard, I place my right hand under her door handle and slowly, slowly, slowly push.
I can make Bella out in the dim lemon glow of streetlamp light coming in through her window. She's asleep on her side with her bent knees pulled up to her stomach. One arm is tucked under her pillow, under her head. Her other is along her chest, her hand tucked under her chin.
Emotionally transplanted back to a desperate place that I haven't allowed myself inside for so long, I close her bedroom door behind me. All the way. I lean back against it for a minute, just looking. Just watching her.
Partially, I am content to just be so inside her world with her.
She stirs, just a little.
My whole body prickle-sparks hot, hot heart-heat.
Unbelievably emboldened by this place, by the nearness of her presence, I step forward.
I walk carefully right to her bed and crouch next to it to see her even better.
She's pushed her lavender coloured sheets down around her waist and her arms are bare under her simple white camisole. She's fast asleep and dreaming deep. This close, I can see her lids subtly flutter and her brows almost imperceptibly wrinkle. Her unconscious thoughts look to be troublesome and my fight-fatigued heart winces with intrinsic sympathy and an undeniable need to shield, protect, and lovingly un-trouble her.
Bella's hand flexes under her chin. Her fingers clench for something to hold onto.
I extend my own before my sense of right and wrong can blink to even begin hindering my instincts. I curve my two middle fingers along and inside where her own are cupped against her palm. She grasps immediately, innocently.
The balmy-beautiful-feeling of easy intimacy that was always missing with Angela and Emily and Jessica, and everyone else in my life that I tried so hard to connect this way with, opens like warm light in the pitch dark pit of my chest. It slips the knots around my heart and wraps a sort of cozy serenity all around my hardest working muscle.
Bella curls her fingers tighter around the ones I've given her and as far as my heart and hands and whole body are now concerned, what my brain thinks it knows is no longer just secondary. It's irrelevant. It ceases to apply. The black and white lines between us are now ten thousand hues of resplendently light silver-grey.
Bella sleepy-sighs Cupid's sharpest arrow straight through my heart. I am hers and that is all. When she squeezes my fingers tighter and draws me closer to herself, I let her.
My twenty one grams that seven years of med school can't explain fly high at her touch. I climb quickly up to close the small distance between us.
"Bella," I whisper, not letting go of her hand as she starts to wake. "Babyangel."
Confusion opens her dreamy dark eyes wide. I curve us together on our sides and she reaches up to hold the back of my neck.
"I'm sorry," she mumble-pants, almost incoherent, closing her eyes and burying her face in my neck. I can feel her breathing, like she's still dreaming. I can feel her shaking-hot shy-little voice around every too-fast slipped word. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'll be good. Don't leave. Please, don't leave, please -"
The need in me to protect her is entirely consuming.
"Shh, baby. Bella, it's okay. It's okay, shh..." I wrap my arms around her as I whisper and fold, and tuck her carefully closer to myself. "I'm not," I tell her as gently and quietly as I can. "I won't leave. I'm here. I'm right here."
She confesses a small velveteen sort of sound just under my jaw. It's silk-smoke soft between a hum and a cry, and she pulls herself even closer.
"I'm here," I reply to the small sound, brushing my thumbs under the dainty blades of her shoulders as I wrap her more securely in my arms, bringing her blankets up around us. "Right here. I'm right here with you, Bella."
She clings to me and I can hear her just as surely as I can feel her, trying to steady her almost panicked breathing. I can feel her chest rising and pressing against my own, and her heart, hard at work under her skin and behind her bones, urgently proclaiming every beat.
I promise assurances into her hair and brush reassurance along her back and sides. I gather her body completely to mine and don't allow any part of her, for even a second, to feel alone or afraid.
Her breathing eventually evens out. So does my own.
She finds sleep. I'm not even looking.
And as her heart finds balance, so does my own, enough to let calmly conscious thought through again.
Bella, my hopes and wishes tell me like a secret. Bella, Bella, Bella, right where she should be. Right where she's supposed to be.
Every second here and now is softly-solid solace that makes me believe in heaven. Every minute fastens me closer, stronger, more indelibly to the girl I love more than anyone in my whole world.
And I know now that this isn't wrong. Or bad. Or any kind of not-okay.
Tangled together like this is how we're supposed to be. It's what's always been missing with everyone else I've tried to love.
I can feel the slightest-lightest weight of her arms around my neck. I can feel her bare calves on mine, where both of our sleep pants have ridden up underneath her blankets. Tracing the length of her spine over her shirt, I rest my hand at the small of her back.
She sleeps. She breathes. She is everything.
I brush my thumb back and forth over her thin cotton covered tailbone. I breathe. I feel my heart beat.
I brush my thumb and I swear I'll stop.
If she asks me to, I swear I will.
I'll stop if she needs me to.
Sealing my silent promise with a kiss to the edge of her dark crown, the top of her forehead, I dip my hand under the bottom of her shirt.
Bella hums in her sleep. Her skin is warm. So warm, I think if I press my palm and fingers, I'll melt right through and into her.
And I want to.
So I spread my hand out over the entire small of her back, feeling the dimples there and the dips of bone underneath the soft hot surface of her skin. I touch higher, feeling the curve of her side and every one of her sacred heart holding ribs. I melt my palm between her shoulders and shift her up a little, tilting her head back.
"Babyangel," I whisper, needing her awake, wanting her here with me. "Angelbaby, Bella..."
She makes a sweet little sound and tilts up for me. She lifts her sleepy lashes and she's there. Bella's right there, eyes open and not hiding.
I'm the one waking her now, needing her, and she's looking at me the way I felt when she woke me all those years ago.
Like I'd have done anything.
Like there's nothing in the world she wouldn't do now.
That open-honest look is all the prompting and permission I could possibly need. Bringing my hand from her shoulders, I close my other arm more firmly around her little middle and gently cup the side of her face. I don't even blink as I take her mouth under mine.
The second our lips touch, I want inside. Bella is so soft and hot, and perfect. She feels like I want her to, just like I hoped she would, just like she should. I nudge her mouth more open with my thumb and kiss her deeper.
I feel for her tongue with my own and moan out loud at the unshy contact she gives. Bella kisses me back and the light in my chest opens brighter, and burns so well.
She moves with me, curling her fingers through the hair on the back of my head. She tangles our legs and kisses my lips, and closes her lips softly around my tongue and sucks so lightly. With completely innocent and absolutely sincere lightness, she kisses me like no one else has ever kissed me.
We break to breathe, just for a second before I shift my weight and move her body underneath mine. She parts her legs and lets me against her, and I kiss her deep again. She wraps both arms around my neck and bends her legs around my waist, and my hands slide, squeeze, press everywhere to get closer.
I can feel her. Through our layers, I can feel her burning up. I rock against her there without a thought of hesitation. I move naturally.
She lifts her hips to meet me and tightens her arms around my neck, breaking our lips to pant a whimper out. Pressing so-sore hardness that I've carried all night and for so many years now, right there, wraps rightness all around me.
It's visceral and it's amazing, and it feels so fucking good, but it's light. It's not enough. It's like a sheet and I want a comforter. I need more, so I tilt my hips back and rock forward again.
Bella really whimpers this time. She arches high for me, but her hands grip my shoulders and she pushes to keep me still. I feel her then, as I lift my head a little. She's shaking. Hard. Not trembling like a little leaf, but nervous shivering. She blinks her eyes open to mine and the anxiousness there strangles the light in my chest.
I know before I even attempt to speak, that I won't be able to say the words, but her hesitation spells one thing and I can't believe it... Even as I so want to...
"Have you... Ever..." I can't say it. I can't even imagine her with anyone else this way. She can't have done this before. I know she hasn't. Just the thought of her with another is excruciating. But she's so pretty. And so sweet. And so fucking soft, And there's so much I don't know. I was gone so long. How could some lucky, all-wrong-guy have not -
Bella shakes her head and pulls all of my attention back to her, here and now. She blinks her bashful lashes and licks her lips, watching my eyes watch hers, watching the truth and all its implications settle into me.
"I've never anything," she whispers, gossamer voice sliding around me in the star-lit dark of her room. "Not even..." She shakes her head again and closes her eyes, breathing out slowly, like she's trying to release her nervousness. "Nothing," she barely murmurs.
I narrow my eyes to look closer, to better understand. "You... That was... I just took your first kiss?"
She nods, flexing her hands on my shoulders without lifting her lashes up. Embarrassment burns her blushing cheeks and nose deeper pink.
"Baby, Bella. I shouldn't... I'm sorry." I shake my head, wishing I'd known, wishing I'd gone so much slower. I lift my hips to part myself from her, to be better, to be a gentleman. "We don't have to. It's not supposed to be like this -"
Her eyes open wide. "Please, don't," she interrupts, pulling me back with her legs and arms, and hands, and what feels like all her strength. "Please, I'm sorry. I just... Please, don't go."
I lean into her pleading pull. I press between her legs again, feeling and letting her feel. Her eyelashes close and her lips fall open. She's beyond beautiful.
"Your first time shouldn't be like this, angelbaby." I brush hair back from her forehead and stroke my thumb along her cheek, shaking my head, angry at myself for not being more thoughtful. For not knowing what I absolutely should have known.
I soften my voice and touch my nose to hers. "Your first kiss, your first touches..." I slide my hands from her hips, up her sides. Over her tank top, I brush my thumbs gently and slowly under her breasts.
Soft mouth open right under my mouth, Bella gasps. She holds me tighter. She wants. I can feel how much, how deep, how strongly she wants.
I brush my thumbs the slightest bit higher, barely touching the cotton covered undercurves of her breasts. Her whole shaking body shakes a little harder. I can feel her breathing fast against my lips.
She trusts me. She's always trusted me.
And I want her.
I press my left hand into the pillows next to her ear and dip my right hand lower, under her shirt. I feel her stomach, warm and melting-soft and shaking. I nudge her nose with the side of mine
I should stop. What she's giving me here is so important. I should hold her close and we should find sleep together. I should protect and honor this gift, and move slowly for her, with her. I should take my time and show her reverent love.
This should be enough for tonight.
This is morethan enough for tonight.
Bella nudges her nose to mine, the smallest, most perfect little return of love.
I kiss her top lip, sliding my hand around her side, just under her back. I fight inside to do right by her, to respect her the way she deserves.
But her she's kissing my lips back and lifting her warm little center up to rub right against where I'm aching for her.
I kiss from one corner of her bottom lip to the other. "Tell me I should stop," I whisper against the side of her just-first-kissed mouth. I push her shirt up and press myself harder between her legs, pinning her circling hips down. It's intoxicating, mesmerizing the feel of her moving that way for me. The feel of her still trying, still struggling to rub herself against my length... it's maddening, how innocent and needy and lustful it is all at the same time.
I swallow a curse and press harder against her hips. I squeeze her side to hold her still and swear my fingertips melt through her skin.
"Tell me to stop for you," I almost plead, warring with my want and my conscience.
Bella shakes her head, trying so desperately to rub and rock and slide. She pulls at me and breathes this nearly voiceless little chorus of "please, don't stop, please, don't stop" over and over.
I press my lips full against hers again. I lift her from her bed to bring her body closer and I give her what a first kiss should be. I go slowly deep and I cherish the taste and touch and feel of her. I nudge her shirt up a little at a time and cover her breasts so carefully.
Not like she's going to break. Not with any worry or hesitation, but care-fully. Patiently. Adoringly and attentive to the shape of every breath and the sound of every needy-wanting-enamored little moan.
She's moaning for me, for me.
I kiss my way down her neck to feel her sounds under my lips. I kiss her chest to feel her heart beating so hard. I kiss her left breast, all around her perfect, pretty little nipple and she arches, and coos my name, and curls her fingers in my shirt.
"Edward, please, God, please, don't stop. Please, don't stop..."
I shake my head. I couldn't, not when she's begging with her whole body, not when she needs me like this.
I lift from her for just a second, just long enough to pull my shirt off too, wanting to feel her fingers curl and dig and cling to my bare arms. She presses her lips together, but the sound she makes at the contact of my stomach to hers is far from quiet.
"Shhh," I whisper against her chest, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip while I kiss my way to her other nipple. We're both okay here, but I don't want anyone else awake or aware yet. I want right now just for us.
I love her with gentle affection. I learn her with my lips and my fingertips, and I move her pajama pants away with the lightest persistence. I give her what first touches should be and when I finally lean above her, and slide my hand with calm assurance up the inside of her thigh to touch that most precious little spot, she's ready.
Leaky-hot-soft, burning-soaking-silky little lips swollen slick under the thinnest slip of simple white cotton, I feel how ready she is for me. How she wants. How she needs.
"I need you," I whisper before I can even think, almost incoherent. I rub her so light, so slightly through the damp fabric. I feel her shake again, the trembling kind of shaking, the lost to dizzying, all-consuming, and downright unbelievable pleasure kind of shaking.
Bella nods. "I need you," she whispers back, parting her legs like she wants more. "I need you."
I nod with her, tracing the backs of my fingers over the top edge of her unders, from hipbone to dainty gorgeous little hipbone. "I'm going to take these off you," I tell her quietly, lips to lips. I bend my fingers and just barely brush my knuckles along her opening, feeling and teasing her through her panties. "I'm going to touch you here, right here."
She arches to get more pressure. She nods frantically against her pillows. She bends her legs, trying to move with me, trying to open herself wider.
Wanting to see and feel her even better, I slide her panties away and shift our positions. In one smooth movement, I lift her above me and place her on my hips, one leg on each side of myself. She makes a nervous-confused sound and attempts to steady herself with her hands on my chest. "Edward, Edward, I'm not, I don't, I can't, um, I..."
She's a stuttering, blushing, love-rushing pretty puddle of a girl above me and I feel my heart fill up for her.
"It's okay," I tell her, cupping her face and fastening our eyes. "It's okay, you don't have to. You don't have to do anything. I'm here. I've got you. And we don't have to. We don't, it's okay. You're so okay with me, Bella."
I bring her blankets up to warm her anxious nerve-endings. I sit up a little with her still in my lap, still straddling me and I wrap us up in her blankets.
"Bella, Bella, Bella-baby, beautiful Bella, it's okay," I keep whispering as I melt my hands into her under the covers. "You're so okay here. I've got you," I tell her, soft like a secret against her earlobe as I anchor her to me with one hand in the small of her back. "I've always got you," I promise as I gently, so gently fingertip touch the top of her inner thigh. "Always. I've got you, Bella, baby, angelbaby Bella, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful little Bella-baby..."
Both arms around my neck and holding on tightly, Bella covers her own mouth when I finally touch my fingers to her soaked-full little lips. She wraps her arms more securely and presses her legs into my sides like she's trying to keep me where I am forever.
"Bella, Bella, Bella," I chant almost mindlessly, so caught up in the slide-feel of her body along my fingers.
I hear her, ecstasy-wincing small panting sounds right by my ear. She keeps starting my name, but can't finish it. She's all tiny gasps and so many pretty little let-me-have-air noises.
I slide-press my hand under her, covering her entirely and holding her up with so much love. I barely move the tips of my fingers. She's so slippery, small and full and needing.
"Edward," she finally pants out. She squeezes my sides and rolls her hips to move with me. "Edward, Edward, Edward..."
"That's right," I whisper back, rubbing my two middle fingers against her carefully. "I'm right here," I continue, kissing the top of her chest, tracing the dimples in the small of her back. "I'm right here, baby."
Bella nods. I slide my fingers higher.
She whimpers and rocks. I circle her clit with my middle fingertips.
She shudders, falters and digs her fingers in. She rides my touch.
"Beautiful-Beautiful," I call her quietly, circling slower, watching her forehead crinkle and her chin quiver. "Beautiful Bella, you're so fucking beautiful, angelbaby. So beautiful."
She keens. She shakes her head. She keeps rolling, rocking, riding. I don't understand.
"I can't." She breathes. "I can't. I don't know how to... God... This, I can't -"
"Shhh." I wrap my left arm around her waist and bring us closer. I cup her in my right hand again. "You don't have to. Trust me," I tell her, ask her, need her. "Give yourself to me. Let me take care of you."
She's nodding before I even have my words all the way out. She's kissing my left temple and cheek, and whispering "Yes, yes, yes.
And I'm nodding too. And nudging her back. So I can let myself out. So I can press-slide-melt against her.
Bella shivers and sighs tiny grateful sounds.
I want to look between us. I want to see her. I want to watch, but not yet. "Look at me," I say instead, leaning back to see her eyes, wanting her eyes open to mine.
She lifts her lashes so slowly and meets my searching. She settles me still with just a look.
My heart beats an unmistakable rush through my veins. Love. Only for her. Always only her. It's almost too much.
"Bella." I breathe her name in as I bring her down to myself. I kiss her neck between deep inhales of ripe red-pink pomegranates and powder soft Baby Magic, and perfect, perfect, only for me love. Guiding her left hip with my right hand, I bring her all the way against my length. I slide and push so gently along her slick-swelled lips, so painfully close to where I need so deeply.
She squirms. She presses her mouth closed and bites back her small sounds. She breathes like she's just learning how and she pushes her hands through her long hair frantically, searching, lost.
"I'm here," I tell her again, slowly moving us both. "I'm here. I'm going to take such good care of you, Bella. Hold onto me, baby. Here, here..."
I place her hands on my shoulders. She holds on instantly tightly.
"Good girl," I whisper. "Good girl. I've got you. It's okay. You're okay. Just let me, baby. Just feel me. Just feel."
She watches my eyes. I watch hers.
I take our time. I nudge her legs a little further open with my own. I guide her slowly, so slowly, steadily, surely.
Every inch parts my mouth further open and weighs her love-lush lids lower. She squeezes onto my shoulders as I bring her all the way down and hold her still. She breathes so hard I can see her chest heave with every inhale. She rocks, trying to adjust. I can feel her trying to relax around me.
I could stay here for all of forever. I'm in no rush at all suddenly. We're together, right where we belong. I stay so still. I whisper soft comfort to her. I touch her blushing-everywhere skin. I lean up to meet her for the lightest, sweetest, most breathless kisses. I kiss breath air back into her lungs that my pushing inside her took away. I bask in the feel of her so nearly-blindingly hot warmth all around me and I wait for her to nod again.
"Okay," she whispers against my chin finally. "Okay, okay, I'm okay..."
I nod with her to show my understanding because even though my lips are parted open, my words are so out of reach. Only then, only at her okay do I place both of my hands on her hips again and lift her up inch by slow inch, almost all the way.
Bella gasps and pants sharply, affection and adrenaline filled breaths, and I guide her back down to me. I pull her closer and fill her even deeper this time. I hold her still again and bring my left hand up to her face. I cup her cheek and she blinks her eyes open.
"How do you feel?" I ask almost silently, buried still to the hilt between her legs, still not moving her.
"Full," she answers without any hesitation or thought, or even air. The single word slipped her kiss-pinked lips immediately, instantly honest.
My own lips break into a smile. "You are," I tell her, lifting her hips the slightest bit to push even deeper, to show her.
Bella smiles too, her breath catching visibly. She blushes darker and her lashes lilt closed. "I mean... I..."
She stumbles around her words, like she's embarrassed or self-conscious. My heart beats so hard.
"It's okay," I assure her, stroking the curve of her pretty pink cheek. "Anything, you can say anything to me. I want to know, baby. Tell me."
She pulls her right hand from my shoulder to tuck hair behind her ear as she breathes a steadying breath out. "Like... I can't..." She swallows and opens her eyes back up. She settles her open-honest dark irises on mine and licks her lips. "I feel like I can't even breathe without feeling you. Like you're here... Like you're all the way inside, everywhere. I feel like you're everywhere inside me..."
With or without meaning to, she flexes so softly around my length, like she needs more, like she needs me even deeper. I lift her just a little, just once, just enough to bring her down again. Enough to slide-grind-rock inside her body.
"Tell me," she pleads, her voice small and so close to breaking. "Tell me how you feel?"
"I am," I promise, starting to move her so, so, so slowly. Just an inch back, then down again, over and over and over. "I am everywhere inside you. I feel you every time I breathe too, baby. All the time... Always... You feel so good, Bella. More than I dreamed. More than I could ever… So good. You feel so perfect, babyangel..."
The longer I speak, the more my words wander. The more I say, the more she starts to move with me, on me, all around me.
Little by little.
Slowly at first, then faster, more, more...
She moves her hips to meet me, to complete us both, but her body is so light. She's so fucking light and I need more. I need to have her absolutely.
With my left hand cradling the back of her head I lean up and bring her forehead down to mine. "I need deeper," I whisper, slide-filling her as I speak, not letting our steady rhythm falter. "Let me feel you better, baby? Let me lay you down?"
Bella, shivering close so close to the edge, nods quickly. "Yes," she all but begs, riding, squeezing, accepting and acknowledging me with her whole body. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."
I turn us both carefully, anchoring her to me by the small of her back. I bend her knees and bring her legs around my waist, and her arms around my neck. "Hold on," I whisper into the crook of her neck, kissing the graceful stretch of smooth skin and delicate bone. "Hold on to me," I tell her.
She tightens her arms and lifts her pretty little hips, and I sink into her. She cry-sighs out and I cover her mouth without lifting my head from her neck. I can't. I can't stop kissing her. I want to mark her, inside and out. I want her to be mine. Only mine.
Fear, unmistakable and uncontrollable, slides down my backbone like icicle drips. It's so cold it burns. I'm full of fear suddenly.
*What if this is it? What if this is all we ever get? What if in the morning -
Bella whimpers behind my palm, shaking her head to be let go. I slide my hand softly to the back of her neck and cradle her head with prudence and patience, and *God, please...
She secures her hold on me and I thrust deeper, faster, trying to push through the cold still clinging to my vertebrae. I kiss and kiss her neck, and move at a pace that pushes her pleasure higher, her lungs more breathless, but the fear that she'll regret this, that she won't let me keep her, that in the morning, we'll have to give each other back... I can't escape it.
I push deep.
I slip in my desperation and I push deeper still to make up for it.
I memorize her with my hands and my arms, and my lips, and my hips, and I fucking need her. For way more than this. For so much longer than this.
"Edward...?" Bella whispers. She curls her fingers in my hair. She digs her heels into my back. "Edward, please," she pants, just as desperate sounding as I feel inside. "I need," she pleads so faintly. "I need. I need. I need..."
My fear doesn't disappear, but it diminishes and bows in this moment. It's nothing at all compared to my want and need to give to her, to help her, to be everything that she needs. So, I kiss my way up from my hiding place in her collarbones and move my hand from the back of her head to the side of her face. I swallow hard. "What, baby?" I ask gently, brushing the outside corner of her right eye, wanting her to open both of them for me. "What do you need?"
Angelbaby blinks her lashes up and I see her, bringing me into focus. I move slow and hard between her legs, pressing all the way inside, rocking my hips against hers without really lifting my weight. "I need," she begs, her dark eyes wet with overwhelmed tears. "I need..."
Her bottom lip shivers, refusing to meet her top. She breathes in shallow, tiny little gasps and I know, and this, I can give her.
"You need to come?" I ask lowly, licking my lips, circling my hips, aching, burning, loving.
She cries out and I resist the urge to cover her mouth once more. I shush her with whispers and kisses instead. She nods as we move and when her whimpers are quiet again, I lift my mouth from hers and lean a little higher above her.
Moving my left hand from her cheek to the pillows to hold myself up, I slide my right from her side down to the very bottom of her belly. Just the light contact makes her inhale sharply and her back arch.
"Trust me, babyangel. Trust my touch. Just feel me..." I flatten my palm and fingers above her pelvis, covering her so tightly knotted tummy trembles. She nods and she closes her eyes, and I swear I feel her slide even hotter underneath me, all around me. "Good girl, such a good girl. Do you feel me? Here? Right here?" I brush my thumb over her shaking stomach.
She nods, pressing her lips together, reaching so deeply inside herself to be only, purely in the moment.
"Good girl," I whisper again, pushing back my own pleasure, tightly knotting up my own release. "Just feel me, right here, baby. Right here. Come for me. Let me feel you..."
Her mouth falls open. For a second, she doesn't even breathe. She can't.
Without missing a beat, I press the slightest bit harder with my hand and my hips. I pin her down with so much love, so full of love, only love, and it's all she needs. In the next second she's rocking and riding pure pleasure underneath me.
I lift my hand and slide it so lightly up over her belly button, to the top of her stomach. I rest it gently between her breasts, over her sternum, right on top of her fast-flying little heart. I can't fight my hips when they start to move again anymore than I can the smile that curves my lips.
Bella's the most amazing, most special, most gorgeous girl. She the most beloved part of being alive at all. She's more to me than air, more than the whole world, more than anything.
She coos and oohs, and smiles under her bliss-lilted eyelids, so completely and beautifully, perfectly at ease and in ecstasy under me.
It all makes me weak for her. I feel weary for her. My knees and shoulders feel ready to give out under my own weight. I want so much to prolong, to start over and go slower, and make this last as long as she'll let me, because deep inside myself, I'm still afraid this is going to be it -
But I can't.
I want to draw it out, more, longer, deeper, forever, but I can't.
"I need you too," I whisper against her forehead, nudging her shaky-warm legs further apart with my own.
"Edward, Edward," she pants, blinking, struggling to keep her eyes open as she starts to nod her head yes again.
I press my hands into the backs of her thighs and push them up a little, even more open for myself. "I need you so much... For so long," I tell her without any breath in my voice. "I've needed you so fucking long, baby."
"Edward, please, please." Bella clenches her eyes closed, visibly rolling through the building pressure.
I fall harder. The drive to claim her, to make her only my own echoes heavy in my veins. She holds me with hot, so-soft tightness. She's ready to break for me again and it's stronger this time. From an even deeper place inside herself, I can feel her.
*This can't be over. I don't want to go back to not having her.
Bella's gasp for air splits in two. We're moving completely together and she's so close. She's there.
I close my eyes tightly to shut out everything that isn't the ripe-clean scent or desperate breathing sound of her. I press my forehead to hers and focus on the silk-soft fire burn of her. Only on her. Here and now, and that's it. I kiss her lips to taste her trust and she has to be mine. I'm hers.
"Tell me I can have you," I whisper against her top lip. "Tell me only I can have you, Bella."
Her breath catches. I see it. I feel it and I push deeper.
At first, all I feel is her mouth under mine, opening warm and needy and inviting. I feel her tongue, softer than anything and then I feel her moving.
She nods her head yes.
I moan for her now, right into her pink-soft sweet-open little mouth and dig as hard and desperately deep as her body will take me. I grip the backs of her thighs and I know in some far away part of my consciousness that I'm marking her, but she doesn't ask me to stop, or slow down, or be easy. So for just a second, I hold her tight like I've wanted to for entirely too long and I close my eyes.
My own release is almost crushing. It rushes from behind my eyes and down my back. It's deafening and for a moment, I can't hear anything, save my pulse, and it's so heavy my ears ache.
The feel of eyelashes and parted lips in the dip of my shoulder pulls me back. Bella's panting overjoyful and oversexed little sounds against my skin and muscle, and I'm holding her body to mine.
She circles and rocks, to and fro, more, please and please, be easy. I kiss and hold, and come so hard I feel for a fleeting second like I might never stop. I grip her hips and angle her up to take me all the way, all the way.
Things come back together in slow pixels. I come and come, and she shakes, and takes all of me.
We stay together as we chase our breath and settle our beats. I stay still and still half hard inside her, just like she asks me to when I move to lift my hips and she winces.
"Please, stay. Please, stay here, please-"
The shyness in her voice is irresistibly sincere. I nod and relax against her. I rest the full weight of my hips on hers again slowly. I lower my stomach and chest when she asks for more, I press my hands and my kiss. I cover her and I stay buried full and deep inside until I'm so hard for her all over again.
She pulls and whimpers, and pulls more. She wants and she would if I didn't stop us both. She can't. She shouldn't. I shouldn't. I can feel how sore for rest every part of her is.
I wrap my right hand around and hold both of hers, and ease gently from her body. I carry her down the hall to the bathroom instead. I cradle her in my lap and fill an almost too-hot bath, and lower her into it with me. I nestle and support, and let her lean while I wash her so carefully clean.
I kiss the pale ribbon curve-corner of her jaw. She sighs and drifts.
I love her.
She sleeps and I whisper to the top of her cheek that I'll take such good care of her. That I love her like nobody else has ever loved anybody.
I pick her up and pat her dry. I whisper to her forehead that I'm crazy for her. That I'm forher.
I scoop her up and carry her close to my chest, up to my room. I close my door and lay her down in my bed. I think about all the impossible nights I wanted her here. I think about her here without me, missing me, needing me. I slip the knot holding her towel together and part both sides, rendering her shy-clean angelbaby bare.
I tell her we were made just for each other. I kiss her wrists and her ribs and her lips. I kiss down her bath-bubble warm belly and tell her that I'll always love her. No matter what.
I spread her legs by her knees and kiss where she's most tender and soft, and I talk to her without words. I promise and swear and pledge my devotion. I assure and reassure and seek to make my love unquestionable, undeniable in her heart, with my lips and tongue.
Bella arches and opens for me, and I tell her with my kiss that my heart will never let her go. That she has me, has always had me. For life, she has me.
I reach up without lifting my kiss. I slide my hand up her quiver-fluttering stomach and turn it over, palm up for hers. She wraps all of her fingers around mine and holds on, and I kiss her to heights so dizzying she loses herself and I follow. I kiss her until she cries from how good it feels, until she's incoherent in elation.
She's half silent cries and half sexy-deep little breaths. She's fighting to rock her hips away, but I need her. Just one more time, I need her.
She gives herself twice more. She buries her face in my neck and curls around me with all of herself when she can take no more. I give, and give, as much as she'll let me.
She clings to me and whispers "Let me stay. Let me stay, please. Let me stay here."
My fear slips like she spoke right to it. I pull my blankets up and around us, over our ears. I cup her cheek and kiss her nose. "You should always stay here," I whisper back to her, my heart hush-bearing the most hopeful wishes. "Here is right where you belong."
I brush my thumb along her cheek and kiss her forehead. Bella smiles the sleepy-slightest little smile. "I know," she says, soft like a breath. "I've been sleeping here for years."
All my hopeful wishes, all my heart parts and painful beats, all of who I am radiates like music, like light vibrations all inside and around me. I blink to bring her sleep-dreamy dark eyes into better focus.
"I know you're it for me, Edward. It's always been you. I was saving this… Me… This… Just for you."
My rarely so joy-filled and maybe never so grateful as in this moment heart opens full-up in my chest. I press our bodies closer under the blankets and kiss her careful and chaste like a first kiss, like love's first vow.
"It's always been you, Bella," I tell her between lip to lip touches. "Always."