Fic: Playing School
I finally get to post this fic I wrote for heroinexchange! It basically got no love over there (not even from the person I wrote it for), so maybe it'll do better when I post it other places.
Title: Playing School
Author: choosetodream
Disclaimer: "Twilight" and all related characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1823
Summary: Edward and Bella relieve a little sexual tension before the wedding as Edward tries to give Bella lessons in a couple of his favorite activities. No BD spoilers.
Author's Notes: Also posted here at fanfiction.net with my other fic.
Breakfast had never been my favorite meal. It had always meant dragging myself out of bed - and Edward's arms - on time, then struggling to cook something appetizing in Charlie's cramped kitchen. Today, though, I had the perk of being the only cook in entire Cullen family and the use of their state-of-the-art, well-stocked kitchen. And, of course, waking up didn't mean leaving Edward. Since I was staying the weekend at Edward's house, he didn't have to leave to avoid being discovered by my father. He could come to the kitchen with me.
Today I was making pancakes from scratch. I had just finished cracking a couple eggs and was stirring up the batter when I noticed that Edward was watching my actions rather intently. I paused, feeling the heat of his unyielding gaze. Edward, though, didn't seem to notice that I had stopped. His eyes were trained on my hands holding the bowl and spoon, and he wore a far-off, dreamy expression that I was unfamiliar with.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" I asked him.
Edward jumped slightly, as if he had been startled out of a trance, and, if it was possible for him, he looked embarrassed.
"What?" I asked again, torn between amusement and worry. I glanced down at the bowl wondering if I had missed some crucial step in the recipe.
Edward met my eyes sheepishly and grinned his trademark lopsided smile. "You have perfect fingers."
"My fingers?" I couldn't help but laugh at that. "What? These clumsy things?" I joked, setting down the batter to hold my left hand aloft and wiggling my fingers at him. "Just because you got your ring on one of them doesn't make them perfect."
Edward, catching my teasing tone, gave me a sidelong glance before reaching across the countertop to grab one of my wrists. He pulled me closer, scrutinizing my fingers at close range. "A bit small," he mused, "but I think they'll do."
"Do for what?" I asked suspiciously.
Edward just grinned back at me. "I'm going to teach you some things."
"Like what?" I asked, pulling my wrist out of his grasp.
Edward ignored my probing. "Just think of it as a warmup for when you're a vampire and will have endless time to explore and learn new things," he said as he came around the counter and took me gently by the arm, guiding me into the vacant living room. I wasn't going to protest. If Edward was willingly thinking of my transition into vampirism, I wouldn’t to try to stop him.
Well, I wasn't going to protest until I saw where he was leading me.
"Edward! You are not giving me piano lessons!"
I made some futile struggles to get away from him, but moments later I was seated to his right on the piano bench, the intimidating grand piano stretching out before me.
"Edward, this is really not the best idea. You're a good enough piano player for the both of us," I pleaded with him, willing him to reconsider this awful idea.
"Hush," he said, catching my hand in his and briefly kissing my fingertips before placing it on the keys. "Just be a good student and humor me for a while."
I sighed. Between his ability to dazzle me and his stubborn nature, it was nearly impossible to argue with him. "Ok, you win. Where do we start?"
The next hour passed torturously, but my complete ineptitude at piano was not entirely to blame. Edward's close proximity was very distracting. I could feel his thigh pressing against mine, the cold of his skin permeating both our layers of clothing. And, to make matters worse, every time he would stretch out his hand to show me which key was which or demonstrate something to me, he would brush against my arm sending delicious chills through my body. Finally, though, after numerous trials at this scale or that arpeggio, Edward declared me ready to attempt my first song: Jingle Bells.
Edward showed me the correct sequence of notes, then I readied my hands on the keys and began to play. The result was less than jolly.
"That was lovely," Edward said with a wry smile when I was done. I smacked him on the arm, then grimaced at the sting to my palm.
"Enough!" I told him, scooting off the piano bench. "That's all the humiliation I can handle today." I turned to go back to my forgotten breakfast, but Edward's hands were grasping my waist before I could take a single step.
"Let's try one more thing," he said, pulling me back to the bench and onto his lap. "Please," he added in a whisper, breath tickling my ear.
Without waiting for an answer, he took my right hand in his and guided it above the keys. His nimble fingers shepherded my graceless ones through the basic Christmas tune. His left hand, meanwhile, soothingly stroked my left arm. After a few refrains of the chorus, Edward removed his hand from mine on the keys. "Now, you try."
I closed my eyes, still feeling the ghost of his hand guiding mine, and somehow managed to pick out the correct notes, though the result was somewhat more clunky than our combined effort had been.
"Good," Edward said, his voice deeper than usual. "Keep going."
I complied, starting the song again, but this time I quickly hit a wrong note as Edward's cool lips came in contact with my neck. I gasped, halting my attempts at the song.
"Keep playing," the lips on my neck murmured breathily. Again, I tried to comply, but soon Edward's hands joined the passionate wanderings of his lips, caressing my sides, my outer thighs, my arms. Jingle Bells had become more of a conglomeration of wrong notes when I finally gave in. I twisted around in his arms, frustration and desire warring for dominance over my feelings. Just when I thought frustration had won, I saw the fiery look in Edward's almost completely black eyes, and my mouth hung open, mid-protest.
Taking advantage of my silence, Edward took my hands in his again. "I have something else in mind that your hands might be perfect for."
My mouth fell open a bit more and my eyes widened as I comprehended - or felt, rather, as I settled back on his lap - his meaning.
Realization of the situation finally hitting me, my mouth snapped shut, and my eyes narrowed. "You sneaky, scheming vamp-” Edward cut me off with his mouth, and all my irritation at the piano lessons faded away into desire.
Since that day in the meadow when we had decided to wait until after the wedding to have sex, Edward and I had agreed to try other things to satisfy our needs. So far, though, he had only been willing to please me. This was the first time he had suggested I could do something in return, and I was eager to explore.
We continued to kiss, and I ran my hands through his hair, deepening the kiss as far as he would let me. I worked hard not to get carried away in my own feelings so that I could focus on the task at hand. I moved my hands slowly down to his chest, relishing in the smooth, hard curves I could feel under the thin material of his button-up shirt. I didn't have the patience for buttons that day. Further explorations of his chest could wait.
My hands continued their trail downwards until they met the waistband of his trousers. I reached under his shirt to stroke the skin of his hips, feeling the deep lines there that led to other things below. I blushed at the thought. Luckily, Edward was busy kissing my neck again and wouldn't notice.
I moved to the button of his pants and shakily unfastened it. Suddenly, though, things shifted. Edward stood, lifting me to the floor in front of him. Once I regained my bearings, I continued my progress, moving to his zipper. Despite not having vampire-caliber hearing, I would have sworn that I could hear every notch of that zipper as I pulled it slowly downward.
I met Edward's eyes then, and his hands joined mine as we pushed his pants and boxers to the floor.
I gulped, suddenly nervous. I wasn't sure how to begin.
"Bella." Edward said my name soothingly, taking my chin in his hand. He kissed me gently, longingly, then met my eyes with his own. "I'll teach you."
I nodded, and he took my hand in his own, just as he had at the piano earlier, and guided me to his need.
I gasped at the feel of him. It was the epitome of all the descriptions of a guy's 'manhood' that I'd always laughed at in those horrible romance novels I read. Hard, yet somehow vulnerable at the same time. Cold - very much so, in this case - yet a source of undeniable heat. Edward's hand began to move up and down slowly. "Like this," he said, in a strangely higher-pitched than normal voice.
I tentatively continued the motions, and Edward removed his hand from mine. I took in the entire feel of him. Each ridge, each vein. Gradually I gained a bit of my courage and curiosity back and tried slightly different movements, delighting in the way his hips would jerk in response to certain things.
"Harder, Bella," Edward commanded. I continued stroking him, increasing my pace and my grip. Edward was making some of the most delicious sounds I have ever heard. He was almost whimpering. It was more beautiful than loveliest song he had ever played for me on the piano. I don't think I'd ever loved him more than in that moment. I felt as if he was exposed completely to me, physically and emotionally, and I knew then that I would do anything to have him make these sounds for me again.
"Bella, I-I'm going to -" I silenced him with a kiss, speeding my ministrations again to push him over the edge. And, with a final moan into my mouth, Edward came.
I released him, and Edward slid to the ground with a thump, slumping backward onto the shiny, wood floor, his unnecessary breathing ragged. His hair stuck up awkwardly where he had compulsively pulled on it while cautiously avoiding my own hair.
I brushed my hands off on my jeans, trying not to look too happy with myself, but he looked so much worse-for-wear that it was impossible not to let a slight smug grin slip out. I turned and sat back down at the piano bench and resumed the choppy melody of Jingle Bells where I had left off before Edward distracted me.
"Edward,” I said, still pecking dubiously at the keys, "next time I get to be the teacher."
Title: Playing School
Author: choosetodream
Disclaimer: "Twilight" and all related characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1823
Summary: Edward and Bella relieve a little sexual tension before the wedding as Edward tries to give Bella lessons in a couple of his favorite activities. No BD spoilers.
Author's Notes: Also posted here at fanfiction.net with my other fic.
Breakfast had never been my favorite meal. It had always meant dragging myself out of bed - and Edward's arms - on time, then struggling to cook something appetizing in Charlie's cramped kitchen. Today, though, I had the perk of being the only cook in entire Cullen family and the use of their state-of-the-art, well-stocked kitchen. And, of course, waking up didn't mean leaving Edward. Since I was staying the weekend at Edward's house, he didn't have to leave to avoid being discovered by my father. He could come to the kitchen with me.
Today I was making pancakes from scratch. I had just finished cracking a couple eggs and was stirring up the batter when I noticed that Edward was watching my actions rather intently. I paused, feeling the heat of his unyielding gaze. Edward, though, didn't seem to notice that I had stopped. His eyes were trained on my hands holding the bowl and spoon, and he wore a far-off, dreamy expression that I was unfamiliar with.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" I asked him.
Edward jumped slightly, as if he had been startled out of a trance, and, if it was possible for him, he looked embarrassed.
"What?" I asked again, torn between amusement and worry. I glanced down at the bowl wondering if I had missed some crucial step in the recipe.
Edward met my eyes sheepishly and grinned his trademark lopsided smile. "You have perfect fingers."
"My fingers?" I couldn't help but laugh at that. "What? These clumsy things?" I joked, setting down the batter to hold my left hand aloft and wiggling my fingers at him. "Just because you got your ring on one of them doesn't make them perfect."
Edward, catching my teasing tone, gave me a sidelong glance before reaching across the countertop to grab one of my wrists. He pulled me closer, scrutinizing my fingers at close range. "A bit small," he mused, "but I think they'll do."
"Do for what?" I asked suspiciously.
Edward just grinned back at me. "I'm going to teach you some things."
"Like what?" I asked, pulling my wrist out of his grasp.
Edward ignored my probing. "Just think of it as a warmup for when you're a vampire and will have endless time to explore and learn new things," he said as he came around the counter and took me gently by the arm, guiding me into the vacant living room. I wasn't going to protest. If Edward was willingly thinking of my transition into vampirism, I wouldn’t to try to stop him.
Well, I wasn't going to protest until I saw where he was leading me.
"Edward! You are not giving me piano lessons!"
I made some futile struggles to get away from him, but moments later I was seated to his right on the piano bench, the intimidating grand piano stretching out before me.
"Edward, this is really not the best idea. You're a good enough piano player for the both of us," I pleaded with him, willing him to reconsider this awful idea.
"Hush," he said, catching my hand in his and briefly kissing my fingertips before placing it on the keys. "Just be a good student and humor me for a while."
I sighed. Between his ability to dazzle me and his stubborn nature, it was nearly impossible to argue with him. "Ok, you win. Where do we start?"
The next hour passed torturously, but my complete ineptitude at piano was not entirely to blame. Edward's close proximity was very distracting. I could feel his thigh pressing against mine, the cold of his skin permeating both our layers of clothing. And, to make matters worse, every time he would stretch out his hand to show me which key was which or demonstrate something to me, he would brush against my arm sending delicious chills through my body. Finally, though, after numerous trials at this scale or that arpeggio, Edward declared me ready to attempt my first song: Jingle Bells.
Edward showed me the correct sequence of notes, then I readied my hands on the keys and began to play. The result was less than jolly.
"That was lovely," Edward said with a wry smile when I was done. I smacked him on the arm, then grimaced at the sting to my palm.
"Enough!" I told him, scooting off the piano bench. "That's all the humiliation I can handle today." I turned to go back to my forgotten breakfast, but Edward's hands were grasping my waist before I could take a single step.
"Let's try one more thing," he said, pulling me back to the bench and onto his lap. "Please," he added in a whisper, breath tickling my ear.
Without waiting for an answer, he took my right hand in his and guided it above the keys. His nimble fingers shepherded my graceless ones through the basic Christmas tune. His left hand, meanwhile, soothingly stroked my left arm. After a few refrains of the chorus, Edward removed his hand from mine on the keys. "Now, you try."
I closed my eyes, still feeling the ghost of his hand guiding mine, and somehow managed to pick out the correct notes, though the result was somewhat more clunky than our combined effort had been.
"Good," Edward said, his voice deeper than usual. "Keep going."
I complied, starting the song again, but this time I quickly hit a wrong note as Edward's cool lips came in contact with my neck. I gasped, halting my attempts at the song.
"Keep playing," the lips on my neck murmured breathily. Again, I tried to comply, but soon Edward's hands joined the passionate wanderings of his lips, caressing my sides, my outer thighs, my arms. Jingle Bells had become more of a conglomeration of wrong notes when I finally gave in. I twisted around in his arms, frustration and desire warring for dominance over my feelings. Just when I thought frustration had won, I saw the fiery look in Edward's almost completely black eyes, and my mouth hung open, mid-protest.
Taking advantage of my silence, Edward took my hands in his again. "I have something else in mind that your hands might be perfect for."
My mouth fell open a bit more and my eyes widened as I comprehended - or felt, rather, as I settled back on his lap - his meaning.
Realization of the situation finally hitting me, my mouth snapped shut, and my eyes narrowed. "You sneaky, scheming vamp-” Edward cut me off with his mouth, and all my irritation at the piano lessons faded away into desire.
Since that day in the meadow when we had decided to wait until after the wedding to have sex, Edward and I had agreed to try other things to satisfy our needs. So far, though, he had only been willing to please me. This was the first time he had suggested I could do something in return, and I was eager to explore.
We continued to kiss, and I ran my hands through his hair, deepening the kiss as far as he would let me. I worked hard not to get carried away in my own feelings so that I could focus on the task at hand. I moved my hands slowly down to his chest, relishing in the smooth, hard curves I could feel under the thin material of his button-up shirt. I didn't have the patience for buttons that day. Further explorations of his chest could wait.
My hands continued their trail downwards until they met the waistband of his trousers. I reached under his shirt to stroke the skin of his hips, feeling the deep lines there that led to other things below. I blushed at the thought. Luckily, Edward was busy kissing my neck again and wouldn't notice.
I moved to the button of his pants and shakily unfastened it. Suddenly, though, things shifted. Edward stood, lifting me to the floor in front of him. Once I regained my bearings, I continued my progress, moving to his zipper. Despite not having vampire-caliber hearing, I would have sworn that I could hear every notch of that zipper as I pulled it slowly downward.
I met Edward's eyes then, and his hands joined mine as we pushed his pants and boxers to the floor.
I gulped, suddenly nervous. I wasn't sure how to begin.
"Bella." Edward said my name soothingly, taking my chin in his hand. He kissed me gently, longingly, then met my eyes with his own. "I'll teach you."
I nodded, and he took my hand in his own, just as he had at the piano earlier, and guided me to his need.
I gasped at the feel of him. It was the epitome of all the descriptions of a guy's 'manhood' that I'd always laughed at in those horrible romance novels I read. Hard, yet somehow vulnerable at the same time. Cold - very much so, in this case - yet a source of undeniable heat. Edward's hand began to move up and down slowly. "Like this," he said, in a strangely higher-pitched than normal voice.
I tentatively continued the motions, and Edward removed his hand from mine. I took in the entire feel of him. Each ridge, each vein. Gradually I gained a bit of my courage and curiosity back and tried slightly different movements, delighting in the way his hips would jerk in response to certain things.
"Harder, Bella," Edward commanded. I continued stroking him, increasing my pace and my grip. Edward was making some of the most delicious sounds I have ever heard. He was almost whimpering. It was more beautiful than loveliest song he had ever played for me on the piano. I don't think I'd ever loved him more than in that moment. I felt as if he was exposed completely to me, physically and emotionally, and I knew then that I would do anything to have him make these sounds for me again.
"Bella, I-I'm going to -" I silenced him with a kiss, speeding my ministrations again to push him over the edge. And, with a final moan into my mouth, Edward came.
I released him, and Edward slid to the ground with a thump, slumping backward onto the shiny, wood floor, his unnecessary breathing ragged. His hair stuck up awkwardly where he had compulsively pulled on it while cautiously avoiding my own hair.
I brushed my hands off on my jeans, trying not to look too happy with myself, but he looked so much worse-for-wear that it was impossible not to let a slight smug grin slip out. I turned and sat back down at the piano bench and resumed the choppy melody of Jingle Bells where I had left off before Edward distracted me.
"Edward,” I said, still pecking dubiously at the keys, "next time I get to be the teacher."