Pulse - Part III/III

[xastorm1]

Title Pulse - Part III
Author xastorm1
Pairing Rob/Kristen
Rating R (what can I say - there's gratuitous smut)
Summary Kristen doesn't need complication in her life. 
Disclaimer They're not mine.

Hats off to all the writers out there, this has done my head in! Apologies if it's a let down - blame it on a MIA muse or just minimal talent!

Part I
Part II




you're something beautiful a contradiction I wanna play the game I want the friction you will be the death of me I wanted freedom bound and restricted I tried to give you up but I'm addicted

III

It’s late, it’s cold, and apparently Rob has skipped the memo on professionalism in the workplace. So when Kristen finds herself missing lines because of one Rob fucking Pattinson, it’s not only Catherine that’s losing patience.

He had been teasing her all night, doing things no one else would notice but her.

Like his hand, hidden underneath her cardigan, his thumb tracing patterns along her side, stroking up to graze the underside of her breast.

Like when he bent her backwards, leaning in to kiss her neck, playing charming Edward for the close up. But she felt him, his knee parting her legs, his thigh sliding between hers, forcing her to press up against him lest she fall over in true Bellaesque fashion.

Or like the way his tongue slipped out leaving a cool trail of saliva, and his teeth nipped at her, marking her, when they did another run through off-camera.

How dare he, she fumes to herself, angry at him for distracting her so. He’s stepping it up, this thing between them, and it’s pissing her off.

But Kristen Stewart is nothing if not professional, so she’s trying to put her best Bella foot forward, and if in doing so she leans too heavily on Rob’s instep, causing him to wince in pain, well she’ll shrug and smile, because really, he deserves it anyway, for encouraging the release of her inner bitch.

Kristen can hear Catherine calling out to the crew to take a break, and then she’s darting towards her, and she can’t help but see a similarity between the director and those annoying gnats that buzz in her face when she’s trying to smoke at night, finally alone and uninterrupted.

“Kristen, baby girl, get your head together. You’ve gotta get into Bella’s space - you’ve gotta want Edward, need him. You with me?”

Want him? Need him?

Kristen thinks if she channels Bella’s desire any stronger, she might just self combust, and she’ll pray to a god she doesn’t believe in, if only it would ease this deep and aching need for him that’s demanding all her attention.

But she knows that’s all but impossible, so instead she imagines sticking pins through the gnat’s wings, rendering it immobile, and it’s with this thought that she spins, the trace of a smile on her lips for the first time all evening.

She stalks into her trailed, slamming both palms against the bench and letting out a frustrated sigh.

Christ.

And she’s telling herself to focus when she senses him, closing in behind her, and turning, she finds herself pressed hard against the table, the Perspex digging into her back as he pushes into her, his arms planted either side of her, holding her trapped.

She chances a glance at his face, and is stunned by what she sees - frustration and desire playing across his beautiful features. And then his mouth is warm and wet against her ear, and he whispers, pained,
“Don’t you feel it, Kris? Don’t you feel us?”

There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, and his eyes search hers, but she averts her gaze.
She shares the frustration and desire he feels, and it’s making her body pulse and her head spin, making her so fucking brave, invincible.

And she’s threading her hand into his, dragging them lower, their fingers entwined, until they’re under her dress and she’s leading him there, into temptation, and he can’t resist even if he wanted to - because it’s him - Rob Pattinson, who never really stood a chance.

His fingers slide between her thighs, hooking into her underwear and he can feel her, so wet her panties are soaked through.

She hears him suck in a gasp as his abdomen tenses against her, and she’s too scared to even breathe, and her heart is pounding hard against her ribcage and the blood is rushing so fast through her veins she wonders if he can feel her pulse with his fingers.

Oh yeah, he knows then, that she feels it, this thing between them.

He’s starting to move against her when she hears Catherine’s “Be ready in five guys!”, and all too quickly his hand stills and he’s pulling it away. And if Kristen thought she hated Catherine before, now she’d like to stick those pins through her fucking eyes and watch her suffer for a change.

Rob leans down to capture her lips, kissing her soft and sweet. And in minutes, it’ll be played out again - a kiss between Bella and Edward, but in this moment, the kiss is all theirs.

“C’mon” he murmurs gently, pulling away from her, and he’s out the door while she’s still trying to remind herself to inhale, stay standing, exhale. And she’d question his composure, but then she catches his stride hitch as he surreptitiously slides his tongue out to taste her on the pad of his finger, and she knows then, that he’s so turned on by her he can hardly walk straight.

Hours pass, and then filming is over and Rob’s driving her home. The silence is deafening, and Kristen misses the crazy and incessant British chatter she’s grown to expect to from him. She turns the radio up, and leans back closing her eyes, but she can still see the swirls of red behind her eyelids, confusing and inescapable.

They’re playing the game now, but she’s not sure who’ll make the next move.

He pulls over in front of her apartment block, switching off the engine and pulling the keys from the ignition, but she makes no move to undo her seatbelt. And then he’s walking around to her side, opening her door, and she sees his fingers playing with the purple key to her flat. He leans over, the pressure released from her chest with a quiet ‘click’ and she takes a breath, enjoying the sudden freedom.

And she knows then, that this is happening.

She’s not drunk and he’s not high and this time it’s them alone in every sense.

And then they’re standing before her bed, the precipice between friends and lovers. His thumbs are sitting at her hips, her fingers edging under his shirt to trace across his warm skin.

“You ready for this?” he asks, a crooked grin on his face.

And she snorts, not really surprised he remembers those first words between them.

Kristen Stewart is many things - a little bit bitchy, a little bit blasé, and a lot beautiful. She thought she wasn’t stupid, but maybe she was - just a little - to work so hard at resisting him.

But she knows now that this is the best thing she’s got going on and so tonight she’ll play her ace.

She hooks her fingers into his waistband and walks them backwards, pulling him down onto her, shirts hastily pulled off, in desperation to feel skin on skin. Her fingers work to undo his jeans, unhooking the button and he lets out a throaty groan as her fingers lower the zip to press inside, and she feels him, rubs over his hardness, teasing him.

She sees only need in his blue eyes, and then he finally lowers his mouth to hers, sweeping her lower lip with his tongue, eliciting a gasp when he nips at the soft pink flesh. Rob’s endured months of watching her play with these lips, imagining the feel of them on him, around him, doing things to him - he thinks she had to know the effect she had on him.

And yeah, when he sees that glint in her eyes, he knows she knew.

And they kiss and it’s all tongue and spit and teeth and So. Fucking. Hot. And Kristen wonders why she tried to fight this for so long, thinks maybe she wouldn’t have if only she’d known it would be this good. His lips are exploring her body, his hot tongue leaving cool lines as he traces over her breasts, his thumbs edging her bra down, to tease her nipple with his mouth. And then his hands are tracing her sides, sliding over her waist, edging her black panties to her knees, where they rest, damp against him. She sees his messy auburn hair falling across her stomach, and then he breathes her in, and stills, breath held.

Seconds pass.

“Rob?”

His head flicks up, eyes hidden behind messy hair and thick lashes, catching her questioning eyes.

“I want to taste you Kris, please?”

Even now, such a goddamned gentleman.

She squirms under his gaze, a little bit embarrassed by the adoration she senses in his voice, impossibly turned on by his words.

And then his head is dipping into her and her legs are spreading wider and then he’s there, tongue working her over so slowly and she’s foccussing on nothing but the feel of him and the way he moves against her.

He watches her, open mouthed and gasping, and he thinks he’s never seen her look more lovely, all flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

And then he’s moving back up her body, licking the sweat that beads between her breasts and she’s rubbing against him and he’s so hard he think he might lose it if she doesn’t stop with this pressure.

“Kris”, His hand pushing down against her hip to still her, and he can’t help but laugh at the petulant, pouty look she gives him. Kristen Stewart likes to get her own way, and right now she wants more heat, more friction, more flesh, more him.

And then she’s rolling him over and she never imagined their first time to be like this, but she’s so fucking ready and kicking her panties off her legs, she kneels over him and with his help, she’s sliding down onto him, taking him inside her and she feels it, the thing that pulses between them, skip a beat.

Minutes pass, and they’re finding a rhythm that fits their new dance. He’s lost in watching her, so fucking beautiful, but she’s gasping “..need more”, so he pulls her down and cradles her until she’s underneath him and she’s holding him so deep inside her that he’s running out of more to give.

And then more is enough and she feels her body become impossibly hot and as she pants into his open mouth, he comes with a deep, gravelly groan and she’s never heard him sound more himself.

And they’re coming down, and this thing that pulses between them steadies and slows.

Hours pass, and tomorrow when they wake up together, his fingers resting on her bare leg, they won’t laugh it aside or pretend it didn’t happen. He’ll trace his tongue across her neck, nibble at her lobe, and then lean over to kiss her, the scruff along his jaw rough against her skin. And he’ll whisper “I love you, you know” and yeah, she’ll know.

Because they both feel it, this thing that pulses between them, and it’s at last a pulse in tandem. And they’re ready for it.

Fin.