contradict (edward/bella, r, post-bd)
Title: contradict
Author: jadeddiva
Rating:R
Characters: Bella, Edward
Warnings: Post-Breaking Dawn sex
Word Count: 805
Summary: Their honeymoon was, arguably, the greatest triumph of her human life, though it dulls compared to this splendor. Post-change, Bella thinks about her new sex life.
Author’s Note: Despite Breaking Dawn’s massive amount of FAIL and WTF, I have to commend SMeyer on giving us the mental picture of Edward Cullen, Sex God. Prompts are “Time is Running Out” and the quote about the white bed not being used ;) Written for part_of_him's Vamparty
You're something beautiful
A contradiction
I wanna play the game
I want the friction
You will be the death of me
- Muse - Time is Running Out
…
Their honeymoon was, arguably, the greatest triumph of her human life, though it dulls compared to this splendor. She doesn’t remember much, bits and pieces which she feverishly clung during her transformation, bits and pieces she shares with him sometimes because she loves the reaction she gets. She remembers white sandy beaches and the scrape of linen against the back of her legs as he rocked against her. What she remembers most is the feeling of utter ecstasy - that they fit together despite his fears.
He was gentler then, caressing her but rarely straying below her hips, his lips never seeming to leave hers. She remembers him up and over her, hands bracing the headboard, hips pressing in tandem with hers. She remembers utter rapture and the look on his face as his eyes rolled backwards (she does not remember the sound of breaking wood, just the groan that escaped his lips).
In those days, there was also the threat of just what he - her powerful, immortal husband - could to do her frail and fragile body. Doubt plagued him, followed them all the way into the Atlantic Ocean, made her sad and made him angry. She only remembers her frustration all those days and weeks and years of being with him but not with him. She did not cling to those thoughts, and now they are barely remembered aches, phantom spirits that irritate her in her still moments.
She is grateful those days are past; she would rather like to keep him like this, wild and lusty.
…
At first, he is insistent - as if he is desperately trying to make up for lost time. She knows that he has waited nearly a century for this very act and she knows that, when she was human, she would be prone to feeling insecure.
Now, she does not fear anything, and gladly takes what he offers.
At first, he is rough, or maybe it feels that way because she only remembers timid touches. He is demanding, branding her skin with his rough kisses all over her body, a change from before which makes her soul come alive. He is brazen, doing things he would never have done when she was human and vulnerable. Before, she could only imagine the feel of his lips on her breasts and hips and lower; now, she knows, and revels in the fact.
He is, above all else, a man in love, and he tells her that with every kiss, every caress, every aching moment as they cling to each other. His eyes speak wonders and the words - oh, the words - that come from his lips as he falls over his edge, are forever marked on her now-still heart.
…
After a particularly intense make out session one night, with Renesmee sleeping not five feet away, she remembers that time when she was human, when his kisses stole her breath away and when she was so eager for this (and why not, she thinks now? this afterlife is quite worth it). She remembers - vaguely, always through a cloud of fog and white noise - how cold, and hard, and strong he felt. It’s a stark comparison to his warmth and gentleness now, but that’s just one more benefit of her new life.
If she concentrates hard enough, she can remember more than just images: she can remember words and conversations, and that one day, a particular memory comes to mind.
In it, she is breathless and she teases him. “For someone who doesn’t want me to be immortal, you’re sure speeding my impending doom with every kiss.”
She can’t remember his response, though, and she asks Edward one day because she’s curious. He looks at her funny, and smirks just a little.
“I told you that you’d be the death of me,” he says, leaning down to kiss her, “but I think the opposite is actually true.”
…
After some time, things change. He no longer seems so desperate to claim her as his own, which is a comforting evolution of their relationship. She is grateful that he now understands that she will not slip through his fingers, that he cannot hurt her except by words, that they are a matched pair. It is a good change, one that she welcomes as it happens.
For the most part, at least - as his kisses become tender instead of fierce, as things change between them, they stop worrying about walls and floors and start to think about the bed, and spend hours tangled up in each other and the pure white sheets. It’s probably for the best, she thinks, as they settle into eternity together.
If she has a regret, it’s the lack of houses destroyed (she hates letting Emmett win) but there’s time enough in her new life for all of that.
Author: jadeddiva
Rating:R
Characters: Bella, Edward
Warnings: Post-Breaking Dawn sex
Word Count: 805
Summary: Their honeymoon was, arguably, the greatest triumph of her human life, though it dulls compared to this splendor. Post-change, Bella thinks about her new sex life.
Author’s Note: Despite Breaking Dawn’s massive amount of FAIL and WTF, I have to commend SMeyer on giving us the mental picture of Edward Cullen, Sex God. Prompts are “Time is Running Out” and the quote about the white bed not being used ;) Written for part_of_him's Vamparty
You're something beautiful
A contradiction
I wanna play the game
I want the friction
You will be the death of me
- Muse - Time is Running Out
…
Their honeymoon was, arguably, the greatest triumph of her human life, though it dulls compared to this splendor. She doesn’t remember much, bits and pieces which she feverishly clung during her transformation, bits and pieces she shares with him sometimes because she loves the reaction she gets. She remembers white sandy beaches and the scrape of linen against the back of her legs as he rocked against her. What she remembers most is the feeling of utter ecstasy - that they fit together despite his fears.
He was gentler then, caressing her but rarely straying below her hips, his lips never seeming to leave hers. She remembers him up and over her, hands bracing the headboard, hips pressing in tandem with hers. She remembers utter rapture and the look on his face as his eyes rolled backwards (she does not remember the sound of breaking wood, just the groan that escaped his lips).
In those days, there was also the threat of just what he - her powerful, immortal husband - could to do her frail and fragile body. Doubt plagued him, followed them all the way into the Atlantic Ocean, made her sad and made him angry. She only remembers her frustration all those days and weeks and years of being with him but not with him. She did not cling to those thoughts, and now they are barely remembered aches, phantom spirits that irritate her in her still moments.
She is grateful those days are past; she would rather like to keep him like this, wild and lusty.
…
At first, he is insistent - as if he is desperately trying to make up for lost time. She knows that he has waited nearly a century for this very act and she knows that, when she was human, she would be prone to feeling insecure.
Now, she does not fear anything, and gladly takes what he offers.
At first, he is rough, or maybe it feels that way because she only remembers timid touches. He is demanding, branding her skin with his rough kisses all over her body, a change from before which makes her soul come alive. He is brazen, doing things he would never have done when she was human and vulnerable. Before, she could only imagine the feel of his lips on her breasts and hips and lower; now, she knows, and revels in the fact.
He is, above all else, a man in love, and he tells her that with every kiss, every caress, every aching moment as they cling to each other. His eyes speak wonders and the words - oh, the words - that come from his lips as he falls over his edge, are forever marked on her now-still heart.
…
After a particularly intense make out session one night, with Renesmee sleeping not five feet away, she remembers that time when she was human, when his kisses stole her breath away and when she was so eager for this (and why not, she thinks now? this afterlife is quite worth it). She remembers - vaguely, always through a cloud of fog and white noise - how cold, and hard, and strong he felt. It’s a stark comparison to his warmth and gentleness now, but that’s just one more benefit of her new life.
If she concentrates hard enough, she can remember more than just images: she can remember words and conversations, and that one day, a particular memory comes to mind.
In it, she is breathless and she teases him. “For someone who doesn’t want me to be immortal, you’re sure speeding my impending doom with every kiss.”
She can’t remember his response, though, and she asks Edward one day because she’s curious. He looks at her funny, and smirks just a little.
“I told you that you’d be the death of me,” he says, leaning down to kiss her, “but I think the opposite is actually true.”
…
After some time, things change. He no longer seems so desperate to claim her as his own, which is a comforting evolution of their relationship. She is grateful that he now understands that she will not slip through his fingers, that he cannot hurt her except by words, that they are a matched pair. It is a good change, one that she welcomes as it happens.
For the most part, at least - as his kisses become tender instead of fierce, as things change between them, they stop worrying about walls and floors and start to think about the bed, and spend hours tangled up in each other and the pure white sheets. It’s probably for the best, she thinks, as they settle into eternity together.
If she has a regret, it’s the lack of houses destroyed (she hates letting Emmett win) but there’s time enough in her new life for all of that.