Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight nor any of its characters, settings or plot lines. I am not intending to pass off any part of the Twilight universe as my original work nor am I seeking to profit from this work. It is a fanwork intended only for the free (sometimes sexy) entertainment of other fans.
Warning: This story contains content that is arguably in violation of the rating guidelines of this website. There are frequent occurrences of sex and violence but whether they are considered graphic is, I believe, subject to opinion. They are, for the most part, tame enough to appear in any R-rated movie. From this it should be apparent that this story is not intended for children. It also contains disturbing imagery and intense emotional and psychological situations that may be upsetting even to more mature readers.
As usual for my stories, a full content warning for each chapter is located at the END of the document to prevent spoilers for those not concerned about specific content. Just scroll until you see the bold text.
AN~I debated for a long time about putting this story up here for the reasons outlined above. This story is already partially archived on Twilighted under a different name. However, as anyone with a story up over there knows, it takes a very, very long time to get a multi-chapter fic onto the site because of their validation system.
Also, this is where the readers are. When they go elsewhere, so shall I.
If you've read my AroBella story, Sunlight, I must warn you that this story is nothing like that one. That is a fluffy romantic comedy, this is a romantic comedy written by a deranged lunatic. For the most part, the only thing to laugh at is my melodramatic writing style.
It was quiet now. The air was still and heavy the way it is after a loud crack of thunder, the kind that leaves a crashing, silent violence behind which stays in your mind like an inaudible echo long after it's gone. The gargantuan sounds of vampires and werewolves killing each other had ended and this pressing, unnatural emptiness replaced them. Snow had begun falling again and it drifted in large, irregular shapes through the air, entirely too light and Christmasy for the scene they encountered as they landed.
Around me, the already fallen snow was littered with shattered bodies. The ones which hadn't been burned were in so many pieces it seemed impossible they could be repaired. I didn't even know if you could fix a vampire once that had happened. It didn't matter. Only one of them mattered and he was gone. It had been that huge muscled beast of a vampire, Felix, that had taken him, my Edward, into the great chasm Benjamin had opened in the field.
Now there was nothing. The pit was gone, it sealed when its maker died, swiftly trapping the ones who had fallen in but weren't already dead, imprisoning them terribly down in the darkness, forever surrounded by the hot oppression of heated, subcutaneous stone, just warm enough to paralyze, to burn but not to kill.
I was sitting in the snow with my knees bent in front of me, my arms resting across their peaks, observing this aftermath with the placid neutrality you give to moderately impressive sunsets. A reaction to what had just occurred had not been invented so I was stuck in this unplottable place between shock and sorrow, immobile as those buried below me.
But I wasn't alone in this invisible prison. One other remained. I didn't know if it was cowardice that ensured his survival and he'd just come back onto the field after everyone else had died or fled or if he had killed someone I cared about to remain alive but he was there now, standing on the far side of the field, holding Jane's head. I could see bits of her blond hair, still tied with a black ribbon, floating lightly in the wind. He was whispering to her. His imposing figure, his clothes, which looked far too official and severe for the current setting, stood dark against the day which was pale in every direction with snow and fog. Jane was his favorite. He was probably telling her he could put her back together again. I'm sure he knew how. But that wouldn't help me, everyone I loved was destroyed. Except for Jacob and Renesmee and I hoped that they were very far away and would never return here. It would probably be good if I never saw them again actually, if I never had to tell them the details of this day, never had to name the dead. His pack members. Her father. It would be better for Renesmee to never have to feel responsible for the deaths of so many people. She was just a child. This was my fault.
No, this was his fault. Anger flared at the sight of him, completely unharmed, standing in the snow casually amongst the corpses of all those who had died because of him. I didn't really know how strong he was. Or how strong I was as a newborn but I felt that even as a human, I could have ripped him apart at this moment. I started running towards him. I didn't even know what my actions would be when I reached him, making him feel pain was my only thought. He knew I was coming but he didn't react until the last second and that was only to set Jane's head carefully in the snow and then stand facing me with his hands in the air near his shoulders, a very placid surrender.
But I didn't want that. I wanted a fight so I could justify the violence I intended to inflict on him. I dived at him, knocking him back into the snow, the force of both of our indestructible bodies hitting the ground at that speed caused us to slide for several yards before we stopped.
I had both of his wrists pinned and I was holding him down with my legs. I don't know if I was actually restraining him or if he was just letting me do it. He didn't look afraid though and it enraged me. He should fear me. I could kill him.
"I want to kill you," I said. My voice came out strange and soft like the way you would whisper, "I love you," to someone in a place you didn't want other people to hear you.
His head had been tilted back when we stopped and now he brought his eyes level to mine and sighed, "Ah, and maybe you could. Do you want to try?" He didn't seem at all disturbed by the utterly inappropriate way my voice had sounded when I spoke. He seemed amused, rather. I squeezed his wrists and actually felt his skin give slightly through the fabric of his sleeves. But he didn't react to that either. His eyes didn't leave my face and his face didn't change.
I inhaled out of habit the way I used to do to calm myself even though it did nothing now except gather all of the smells around me out of the chill air: damp trees, burnt vampire flesh, mixed with snow, mixed with him. The exact way he had smelled in Volterra a year ago. I was beginning to believe I had imagined how overpowering it was but it was making me dizzy even now. With my increased sense of smell it had new layers and tones I hadn't known the first time. It was a rich, dark smell. Something I couldn't begin to name except to say it smelled like how I imagined sin itself would smell. Alluring and forbidden. Dangerous and expensive. My breath stuttered as I exhaled and I sagged a little, bringing our faces closer. Now he was looking at me warily, confused by the odd shift in my behavior. I could have continued in my rage if I had only held my fucking breath. I felt control spin away from me, throwing bright sparks, like a ground firework skidding over the pavement of a parking lot.
I knew the fact that he couldn't read my thoughts was disturbing and fascinating to him. The way it had been to Edward. I am the only real mystery he has encountered in a few thousand years. I didn't even know how old he really was but Edward had said the Volturi had been around that long at least.
So I am a mystery. And he is . . . something. He terrifies me, yes, but that day in Volterra when I stepped forward to let him try to read my mind, close enough to smell him with my human senses, I had felt a vibrant jolt shoot through me from our joined hands. His skin was cold like Edward's but different, softer, like some alien stone with velvet on its surface. He had bowed his head over our hands while I stood trying not to recoil as I stared at his thick, dark hair. Sleek and tamed, not like Edward's at all. Then he looked up at me, his startling crimson eyes inspecting my face and I waited. He looked unsettled and a little concerned. He dropped my hand and stepped away and I was embarrassed to find that I had liked his touch as soon as it was gone. I remember standing there a little stupidly, staring at him, with my hand hanging empty in the air before Alice pulled me back. I wondered if someone was controlling my feelings like Jasper did but I didn't know why they would be making me feel this way toward Aro. Unless it was to trick me into staying there. But that didn't feel right, the attraction wasn't that strong, I still wanted desperately to leave with Edward and Alice.
And he decided to let us. Then right before he had Felix release Edward, he stepped close again and leaned in to say my name, his face inches from my own, his cold fingertips just ghosting the side of my face. I felt myself blush hotly and knew he must have felt the slight increase in warmth under my skin as the excess blood heated my cheek. Even not being able to read my mind, he had to know the effect he had had on me, my face as transparent as my mind was opaque. I felt I looked indecent standing there with my mouth just open and my eyes closed while he whispered my name to me in his unplaceable accent. I was grateful he was between Edward and I because I knew I looked very much like I was simply waiting for him to kiss me. This was what classic vampire legends were based on I knew now. Incomprehensibly old beings with alluring scents and sounds that darkly and easily seduce young girls with only a touch, only a whisper. And take them swiftly down to Hell.
Right now, he had his head to one side, surveying me calmly, as if we had just paused a conversation about something benign and he was waiting for me to answer an ordinary question, not at all like I was straddling him on the ground in the middle of a battlefield where all of our friends just died and he was asking me, rather sweetly, if I was going to attempt to murder him.
"I don't know," I said finally, looking away.
"Truly? Everyone you know appears to be gone, and I am the cause. I can't think of any reason why you wouldn't kill me if you could, Isabella Cullen," he said. But it didn't sound cruel. His ability to appear kind and welcoming was unnerving. It made you feel like you could trust him when instinct screamed out the insanity of trusting this long inhuman creature.
But he was the only vampire in the world I knew now. This realization had begun while I was running and was part of the reason why I grabbed at his arms when we fell and not his eyes. With my heart already broken eternally, what did it matter if Aro lived? He had no one either.
"I don't know anyone else," I said, my voice was weak and flat.
"That is unfortunate," he said, sympathetically.
"But I couldn't kill you anyway."
He narrowed his eyes for a second. Maybe trying to decide if I was stupid or trying to fool him.
"While I would, of course, prefer that you didn't, may I ask why?"
I took a breath. A terrible idea a second time as his scent had in no way lessened. Then I concentrated and expanded my shield to surround us both. He gasped as the air around us was filled with transparent, shivering rainbows.
"Bella," he said but he wasn't looking at me, and I was certain he was saying the shield was beautiful, not saying my name.
I shifted my right index finger up over his sleeve and placed my fingertip on his wrist. I let a thin flow of memories, carefully selected, go out. I had been practicing this a lot to show to Edward. I never got the chance. Now I never would. It seemed wrong to be sharing this ability for the first time with someone else. It was such an intimate act that the things I was about to show him seemed like less of a betrayal in comparison. But I needed an ally, I needed him not to kill me.
He gasped again, higher, a smile on his open mouth, his eyes wide as I showed him us meeting in that weird throne room:
My heart was still beating too fast from my run though the square as we followed Jane through those huge, ornate doors and it lurched suddenly with shock, and started beating even faster when I saw him as he stepped down from the dais and started toward us, smiling too cheerfully for the occasion as I understood it. I had seen him before, in the painting in Carlisle's office. I had thought the artist was being fanciful in the way they'd depicted him, but he was there, looking exactly as he did in a painting that was hundreds of years old. His face was nothing short of terrifying even though, like all vampires, his skin was perfect and his features even and refined. He reached us and took Edward's hand, the same hand I was holding. Our fingers brushed and I gasped. The smell of him overwhelmed me and I was barely listening as he and Edward talked. I only looked at him directly when he said my name and the bubble of terror surrounding me broke as we made eye contact for the first time. He was still scary but now I was drawn to him instead of repelled. My skin tightened pleasantly all over my body when he politely requested permission to hear my thoughts. Agreeing meant inadvertently confessing to him how he was affecting me. I stepped forward and gave him my hand.
Then me on a plane, flying away from Italy:
My fingers were covering my lips while an unbidden, unwanted image of us in the throne room appeared in my mind. Not a memory from that day but something else. A fantasy. A spell. We were just kissing at first and then he drew me closer and his hand slid down to touch me, to press elegant fingers against me gently while I made a soft whining noise and held onto him, my hands making fists on the lapels of his jacket and my head tilted back obscenely, my mouth open slightly. Everyone was watching and I didn't even care.
Now my bedroom in Forks, weeks later:
I woke up suddenly from a dream about him where he had caught me down a dark stone hallway and was whispering in my ear, his cool breath beating a soft tattoo against the side of my face. His hands were cupping my ribcage in a way that made me aware that he could crush me without effort. I was naked and wearing his Volturi crest around my neck.
Then the part I had to force myself to let him see:
Me touching myself in the darkness, his name, not Edward's, falling quietly from my lips at the end, imagining my hands were his like in my fantasy on the plane. And the guilt and disgust that rocked me afterwards when Edward appeared at my window ten minutes later.
His face had grown increasingly astonished as each memory appeared. Now in response to this last one he closed his mouth, a new, strange expression of his face. It almost looked like fear.
I let one more memory through:
Us facing each other on the battlefield. Before he focused on Renesmee, his gaze had come to my face and the reaction of my newborn vampire body was horrifying to me. I was glaring at him openly but really I wanted to leap on him, tear at his clothes and taste his skin. His eyes slid obviously down my body and then flicked back up to my face. Lust raked through me and I realized, sickeningly, that if I had met him alone, I might have done it.
I moved my finger and let my shield retract.
"I love Edward," I said. My voice sounded like I had a hole in my windpipe. "But that's why I can't kill you. I thought I could. But it would be . . . sick."
"You're not going to kill me . . . because you want me?" he asked, his tone completely flabbergasted.
"No. I don't want you. I hate you."
"But you still want to fuck me . . ." He sounded bizarrely amused and a little smug even.
I released his left hand and slapped him as hard as I could across the face. He caught me by the back of the neck, his powerful hand gripping the base of my skull. He forced my head down until I was an inch from him, his red eyes swept slowly over my face and he inhaled deeply, then, instead of pulling me down further he lifted his own head to vanish the space between us, pressing his ancient lips to mine in an unanticipated and oddly reverent kiss.
My body reacted wantonly and without direction from me. My legs tightened around him, my hips bucked, shocking me with their unpremeditated forwardness. My movement allowed me to feel that the memories I had shared had had a predictable effect on him. At least, predictable for any other man. I hadn't even been sure if he was capable of or interested in physicality. But he obviously was and he was still kissing me, to which I was responding shamelessly because an imaginary heat had erupted in me as soon as his lips touched mine. It burned away everything and I felt it all fall away and for a moment I was free of the horrible reality of the battle, even while its evidence lay still and terrible on the snow all around us where we were kissing with seemingly cruel indifference to the aftermath of my whole life ending.
He had somehow been dominating the situation even while I was the one still holding him to the ground. He completely possessed me with only his mouth and I didn't even fight it, the freedom from pain was so sweet and absolute.
He flipped us quite suddenly. He could have done it at any time I realized when I felt a small measure of his strength as he lifted and pulled me under him. He was laying on top of me, between my legs, his long, red-lined cloak covering us like a blanket we didn't need even in the snow. There was snow clinging to his hair, I could feel it under my fingers, not melting because neither of us was warm enough even to melt something as delicate as a snowflake. Frozen monsters, equally cold. Inside and out. I released his other wrist and slid my hand up to interlock our fingers, the only part of our flesh touching except for our mouths.
"What now, Isabella?" he asked softly, pulling away from our kiss, interlacing the fingers of our our other hands.
I shook my head. I couldn't speak. I wrapped my legs around him, lifting my hips. I wanted more. I wanted to feel that perfect nothingness from our kiss again. I would do anything to capture it. To keep it. But not here. I managed to somehow convey that we should go somewhere else. I don't even remember how but in a moment we were flying through the woods, him holding me, my legs still wrapped around his body. He stopped in a clearing, slowing down before backing me up until my spine hit a tree.
"And now?" he asked, moving his hips against me slightly.
I moaned and the sound made me feel disgusting. This was wrong after everything that had just happened. Wrong anyway, at any time. The battle not a half an hour over and us in the woods, wrapped in an unholy embrace. Made so much worse because in many ways it was our battle, his and mine, and now everyone was dead but us, because of us, and this is how we were mourning them. By trying to forget they ever existed. At least for me it was that way. I didn't care why he was doing it.
And I couldn't deny that I wanted him, even beyond my current, selfish need, not after I had shown him what I did, not after I kissed him back the way I had just now. I didn't want to say it, I couldn't make myself consent to this verbally. I responded to his question by grabbing the top of his cloak and tearing it away from his back. He smiled slightly and bent his head to my neck. His lips on my skin made that wonderful, strange heat erupt again, the source of which wasn't blood rising. A trick of my mind as it scrambled madly to escape from the agony threatening to engulf and destroy me.
The intimacy I had shared with Edward had been exquisite and powerful in its own way but this was frightening in its intensity. The taboo of it made me react shamefully as I held onto him with one hand on the nape of his neck, tucked against his skin under his hair and the other pulling at the small of his back, pressing him closer even though he was already crushing me to the tree behind me. He was moving against me just barely but I felt like I would finish before we ever got to anything else. He seemed to know this somehow and moved a little faster. My fingers dug into his neck.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked quietly.
"No!" I was too overstimulated to even feel embarrassed by my open desperation for him.
"I've never done this with anyone whose mind I couldn't hear," he said and this had never honestly occurred to me. It must be strange. "So I need you to tell me if you don't like something."
I just nodded. It was odd having this exchange given our circumstances. Why should he care? I realized how much I didn't know about him. Almost everything. I stepped hard on the idea that he might have feelings. I preferred that he be an ancient, unknowable monster because it justified using him like I was while I despised him and he knew it.
"I seem to be doing okay so far," he said next to my cheek. I was sure my body would find blood enough somewhere to blush at this. I didn't know if he wanted me to flatter him but I hardly needed to because in a few moments I had tensed in response to his movements, my hands tightening on him, pressing myself against him as I came, both us still fully clothed.
He held me silently for a minute before asking me if I wanted to continue. It made me uncomfortable that he was asking me that. Selflessness didn't factor into my concept of him. And it certainly wasn't what I wanted right now.
I nodded without looking at him. He pushed the skirt of my short dress up with his slender, pale hands and slipped his fingers into the top of my tights. He pulled with what looked like casual force but they shredded in his hands easily. He tore away the entire top of them leaving behind what were basically thigh high stockings with ragged, fraying tops rising out of my tall boots. His hands connected with the bare skin of my legs and I groaned unconsciously, loudly. He laughed through his nose, smiling, amused by my enthusiastic reaction. He certainly didn't need to hear my thoughts with the way I was acting.
I reached for his chest and pulled at the front of his tunic. The gold buttons flew away and I yanked the fabric back and away from him, until he pulled his arms free. Underneath he wore a white, buttoned shirt, the top button undone already. It was instantly humanizing, surreal. His gold Volturi crest still hung from his neck. I grabbed the pendant in my fist and yanked. I felt the chain snap and I threw it away into the trees viciously.
He caught my hands before I could do more, pinning them both with a one of his hands above me. He placed his other hand at my throat, his thumb ran my jawline, before traveling down over my collarbone and between my breasts, he continued down to my stomach where he pressed the pad of his thumb into my navel gently, momentarily before sliding his hand around to cup my waist. He took the fabric of my dress in his fist and this time it wasn't gentle like with my tights. He tugged sharply, his teeth visible for a second and the entire dress, which had been a thin knit, tore away cleanly leaving me naked by almost any public standard. My underwear remained. I hadn't been wearing a bra. He looked down, his eyes falling to the necklace. His necklace. The one he sent me after I became a vampire. Its large, heavy stone hung down in the center of my chest, over my still heart. He didn't comment on its presence but he paused and looked at me carefully for a moment, his red eyes examining my face like he could extract some kind of clarifying information about why I had worn it today from the soft planes of my features. He wouldn't find an answer because there wasn't one. Because even I didn't know why I had put it on. Or why I had hidden it under my dress after.
He put his fingers into the top of my underwear but didn't tear them. He instead came in to kiss me again. It was more passionate now, a little more demanding. His mouth tasted rich and dark. Like the way he smelled, like sin. My fingers were on his chest and they tightened on his shirt, tearing it without meaning to when he brought his lips to right under my ear and began to whisper things, mostly in Italian, that I couldn't understand. Except my name, all the syllables drawn out, exaggerated, breathy. I tore at his shirt for real then and pushed it off his shoulders where it fell on top of my own ruined clothes. I went quickly to his belt, undoing it so that the rest of his cloak fell away. He was wearing black pants underneath. The color made the chalkiness of his newly revealed skin more startling. Beautiful in the light of this sad, grey day.
In a slow moment where I forgot what this was supposed to be, I placed my palm flat in the middle of his chest, where his heart would have been if he were alive. He sucked in air through his teeth and closed his eyes. He opened them a moment later and tore my underwear away roughly, encountering me messily as I reached for the closure of his pants. Working around each other, desperation taking over now until finally, terribly, wrongly, perfectly, wonderfully we were naked together except for my boots and the ragged remains of my tights. He lifted me a little so that he was positioned to slide into me.
"Remember that you must tell me if I do something wrong, Isabella," he said, paused at this torturous juncture.
'Please, don't say my name like that. Don't say it at all.'
"Just fuck me," I said, not looking at him, shocked at my own vulgarity. "Don't talk anymore."
He breathed out heavily and trust upward until our hips met, only prevented from crawling into each other, consuming each other, by our unbreakable bones.
He went slow at first, kissing me languidly and then he took my permission, my request and pulling my legs up around him more securely, thrust into me harder. The tree behind me creaked but I pulled at him, silently begging him not to stop, pushing my hips out to meet him. And for a little while, there was nothing, like it had been when we kissed that first time. It was perfect. Just beautiful emptiness and the elegant swirling of my body's strange processes as I raced toward my second climax.
"Tell me before you come this time," he said, his breathing was slightly shaky. I had done that, made him lose control a little bit. It was almost too much and after he spoke I was a lot closer than I had been before. I managed to nod. He gripped me tighter, his pace even and untiring and after another minute I knew it was going to be over too soon. I didn't want it to stop. I fought to cling to him, to cling to the sweet, obliterating darkness we shared, wanting to stay here lost, not remembering. Finally I told him in a gasp when I was close and he said, "Let me hear it." I obeyed this quiet request without thought, my cry escaping into the crisp air, loud and sharp and surely audible for miles around.
He wasn't loud and I stared in amazement at his face as he finished, his frightening eyes half shut, his mouth open slightly. He gasped before thrusting into me once more and then freezing there, his lips still parted so I could see the dark, wet interior of his mouth within. He held me against him, his breath shuddering, his head came forward and he buried his face in my neck, pressing a soft, full kiss on my absent pulse point.
We stayed that way for a long time. Longer than any human could have. I didn't want to leave. I had too many awful things to face. I didn't know what his motivation was. He could probably go back, save some of his friends. He could return home, still be like he was, the tyrannical king of all vampires, he was still Aro of the Volturi. I was nothing. Had nothing.
At last he released me, leaving me gently, but still it felt awful. I had to think about it now. The end of our illicit coupling was the beginning of reality. We stood there naked but I didn't feel shame, I only felt numb but with a terrible, dizzying, red pain coming in at the edges.
"What will you do now?" he asked kindly.
"I don't know," I said. "Everyone is gone, I checked. I have nowhere to go."
Smoothly he said, "You could come to Italy. Your special gift would be welcomed there . . . "
"Still recruiting after all of that?" I said bitterly.
"What else should I do?"
"You don't have to go back either," I said, even to me it sounded crazy. "We could burn the field, let everyone think we both died. Start over somehow." I was rambling, creating the storyline of a bad TV show. Implausible and ridiculous, but I couldn't stop myself. I so afraid to be alone that I was making an alliance with the person who made me that way.
"You'd run away with your enemy? Why?"
"What are my other choices?" I said, not even caring how rude it sounded.
"I've been the head of the Volturi for more than two thousand years. What would you have me do now, little vampire?" He sounded intensely curious.
"Be a new person. We could get resources from the Cullen's house, start over easily," I said. I sounded like I had a plan but I was just making things up wildly. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. His face was a porcelain mask. "You could always go back to Volterra later, make some excuse . . . " I added quickly. I was suddenly desperate to have him say yes and I didn't care who he was I just didn't want to do this by myself. "A year," I said finally and then waited. It was an arbitrary timeframe but I was sure I'd know what to do by then.
He stared at me for a long time, baffled, before he finally said, "A year. I think you could show me this world as I have not yet seen it, Isabella. And since you won't show me in your mind, I am sure, you'll have to show me in person. So, for a year, I am at your command."
Command. Aro. This had an interesting effect on me. I felt rich and capable suddenly. I could do this. We could. I would run away with the only person who knew I was alive. A man who should have been my enemy, was my enemy, who I had just slept with inadvisably in the forest a mile from my human home.
I took his hand and led him toward the Cullen's, darting through the trees naked, leaving our old clothes behind, along with our old selves, we arrived in the clearing of their front yard, our faces bright, mirroring each others sudden madness, ready to leap.
END NOTES: Okay. So in this story, I tried to make it as canon-compliant as possible because I am obsessed with canon-compliant AroBella shipping. I use a mixture of book and movie canon. Whichever suits my storyline best. I will try to point out where I change things when I do it. There are minor things in this chapter. Like Bella is not wearing that outfit on the day of the battle. It is the one she is wearing when Charlie comes to see her at the Cullen's after her change.
She is wearing the necklace in the book and they even have this weird flirty conversation about it where he's like, "Hiiiiii, Bella, I see you got my present," and she goes, "Oh yeah, it's super pretty. I totally wear it every day of my life including when it's utterly impractical because I might be getting into a massive vampire fight. Thx. Sorry I never wrote back." And he's like, "Oh, it's cool, it's just this ridiculously priceless ancient artifact I've been hoarding for centuries that I decided to give you even though we've only met once because I knew you were going to be a sexy vampire and I was totally right, ur rly hawt! So, do you want to come home with me? No? How about if I kill your husband? Still no huh? That's too bad. Did you hear that part where I said I think you're pretty? I said it a few times . . . just wanted to make sure you knew . . ." It happens. Look it up.
For those who have read Sunlight, you are going to see parallels in this story regarding their relationship. While that is unavoidable in any AroBella fic, it was intentional in these ones as Sunlight was written for the specific purpose of having a "clean" story to post on this site and is, in some important ways, the clean, light, happy version of this story.
CONTENT GUIDE: A non-graphic but descriptive sexual encounter, mention of female masturbation, profanity, profanity used to describe sex.