Part Five
Part Five
He took away smelling next. He walked around the closed-off set with tissues stuck up his nostrils, and a wooden clothespin pinching his nose together. The makeup artists were getting slightly frustrated with him, because every time he took of the clothespin, there were two red dents in his nostrils that were nearly impossible to cover.
Everyone found it hilarious. Except me.
“Action!” Catherine shouted at me, and I began to sprint through the streets of Volterra.
I ran through throngs of extras gathered for the “festival.” I shoved them out of the way, shouting “Move!” and “Excuse me!” every few seconds. My eyes fell on the clock tower, and I stopped in my tracks. I could hear the motion of the camera coming up behind me; I could see the other camera panning onto my face as I locked my vision on Rob. On Edward.
He was standing shirtless underneath the clock tower, the bags under his eyes nearly purple. I wondered if makeup had to perfect them much. His face was towards the sky, his expression was almost peaceful. I began running again, shouting “Edward!” at the top of my lungs in a frenzied voice.
I knocked into his warm, solid body. “Edward!” I cried again, beating against his chest. “We’ve got to move!”
Rob cocked his head, looking down into my face. He smiled sadly, and cupped my cheek with his calloused hand. I automatically leaned into his touch, closing my eyes. “Amazing,” he whispered. “Carlisle was right, after all.”
“Cut!” Catherine yelled excitedly, but I barely heard her. Rob had yet to take his hand away from my face, had yet to break his stare.
“Still use the same shampoo?” he asked me finally, breaking away. He was taking in long, deep breaths.
“Sunsilk,” I agreed quickly.
“Still the same perfume?”
“Blue by Polo Ralph Lauren,” I told him, nodding.
He picked up my wrist in his long digits, and then put the pulse point right against his nose. He inhaled slowly, and then dropped it back down. “I’m sure Michael enjoys it, too.” He turned from me and fished out a tissue and a clothespin from his pocket.
“Michael and I-“ I started to explain, but he walked away like he couldn’t even hear me.
*
FLASHBACK.
“I’ve got a surprise for you, love,” Rob said to me eagerly, guiding me through the hotel hallways that we resided in before New Moon began filming.
I was exhausted - maybe that wasn’t an excuse, but that was the reason. I felt less than sexy, less than beautiful, less than charming, less than witty, less than anything that involved me doing something besides finding the perfect spot on that delicious King sized mattress. I sighed loudly, hoping to convey my impatience with whatever he had cooked up. It didn’t deter him; in fact, he yanked on my hand harder and sent a smile at me from over his shoulder.
“Rob,” I groaned. “I’m too tired for this.”
He silenced me with a short kiss as we got to the door. He slid in his key, grinning at me. “You’ll love this. I swear, darling.”
I didn’t believe it. I just wanted a hot shower to melt the day away - pre-production of New Moon was rougher than Twilight, and Rob just didn’t have to shoulder as much weight this time, since his role was considerably smaller. Resentment welled up inside of me as I thought of him lounging around the hotel all day while I was dragged from costume fittings to motorcycle lessons to battling the screenwriters.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered to me, kissing me on the neck. I did as I was told; that cheater, he knew what those kisses did to me. “Hold on to my hand.” I complied, grasping his clever fingers as he guided me into our hotel room - I heard him kick the door shut behind me, and it locked automatically.
He led me in the direction of our bedroom - I sighed again. If he was expecting me to have sex with him, then he was in for a world of disappointment. Thinking about him touching my sweaty, exhausted body made me cringe.
“Are you ready?” he whispered in my ear, his breath blowing into my face. I inhaled out of habit, smelling his Orbit gum and Marlboros.
“Yeah,” I said grudgingly.
“Open your eyes.”
I opened them slowly, taking in the sight before me. Our bed had red rose petals crushed along the white comforter, contrasting beautifully. There was a bottle of something on the bed, and I turned to face him. He was looking down at me with an expectant smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you,” I whispered, kissing him on his Adam’s apple.
“I just… want tonight to be about you,” he told me softly. “Lay down.”
I balked. “Rob, I’m really not-“
He shook his head. “Lay down, beautiful.”
I backed up onto the bed, laying down in a huff. The silkiness of the rose petals grazed my arms, and I picked one up, rubbing it between my fingers. I watched Rob through half-lidded eyes, watched as he lit a couple of candles and cursed softly when the match flared up. I watched as he moved over the iPod Home that was stationed on the floor, and began playing King of Leon’s Aha Shake Heartbreak album - an album that would always be ours. I picked up the bottle lying on the bed - massage oil.
Ah.
He pulled his shirt over his head - I scrutinized his body internally. He definitely had been slacking on the crunches. But he was warm and he was mine, and I couldn’t help but smile as he crawled over me, nuzzling into my neck. “I love you,” he breathed quietly. “Lift up,” he commanded, pulling at the hem of my shirt and lifting it off of my body.
I ran my fingers down his back, feeling the tight muscles contract. He pressed kisses into my collar bone, tracing the protuberant bone with his nose. “So tiny,” he whispered. “Flip over.”
I did as I was told, and before I knew it his hands were covered in oil and they were working out the muscles on my back. I sighed contentedly, burying my face in my arms as his lovely fingers kneaded knots in my spine. “You’re working so hard, and I wish I could be there for you every day, to relieve the burden. But you’re so strong, love. So independent. So…” His voice broke a bit, and I turned onto my back again, looking up into his face. I could feel the rose petals sticking to the oil.
“So… what?” I questioned, staring up into his face that was sheathed in shadows. The candles’ light danced off the angles of his face, and I reached up to trace his jaw line.
He took my fingers to his lips, kissing each of them with equal tenderness. “So mine,” he said finally, looking terrified of the words.
I stiffened immediately. I wasn’t anybody’s. Not even his. I was barely even my own person these days; I was an image and a household name, and it made me want to cling on fiercely to my own identity even more. I couldn’t give anymore of myself away, not even to him. I shook my head at him, looking away.
We fell asleep on different sides of the bed that night; I barely gave it a second thought. The next morning, he was just as chipper as ever - I never tried to delve deeper, never tried to see into his eyes, into his thoughts.
I never knew that he didn’t sleep a wink that night.
*
I steeled myself for what I was about to do. A thousand words ran through my mind, all of them equally degrading - whore, slut, skank - but I couldn’t dissuade myself. Talking to him didn’t work. Being around him didn’t work. Crying over him certainly didn’t work. But he was a man; not only that, he was a man in love. He might have detested me, he might have cringed at the sight of me, he might have denied me to the whole world. But I knew he was still in love with me.
So I wrapped my trench coat tighter around my waist, and knocked solidly on his door.
It took him a moment to answer; in fact, it took him so long that I could feel my nerve slowly dwindling as I stood in the hotel hallway at one in the morning in nothing but a black trench coat and red kitten heels. But then I heard the slide of the lock being undone, and I thought, Rob is right behind that door and it kept my feet firmly planted on the ground.
He pulled the door open, leaning slightly on the jam. He had a bottle of Heineken in his hands, and the way his fingers curled around the neck made me feel confident, sexy, bold. “Kristen,” he acknowledged coldly.
“Rob,” I answered, and then pushed my way into his room without asking for any sort of permission. I looked around the messy hotel; his clothes were strewn everywhere and there was a bowl still half-packed lying on his nightstand. The room reeked of marijuana and cigarettes and sweat, and I didn’t turn around to face him until I heard the door being closed and locked again.
“It’s late,” he said finally, after staring at me through hazy eyes for a good ten seconds.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I told him, fidgeting with the belt around my coat.
“Interesting attire,” he noted, setting down the bottle and leaning against the wall. He was a good two yards away from me, and I knew he wouldn’t move any closer.
It was the opening I was looking for. I undid the belt and dropped the trench coat to the floor. I was left in nothing but my red heels.
Rob knocked his head against the wall so hard it probably left some sort of indention. “What are you doing?” he hissed at me, scrabbling his hands against the wood paneling.
I moved towards him, swallowing the embarrassment of being left completely naked for his perusal. “I miss you,” I told him quietly, the words coming out strained from the back of my throat.
“It doesn’t matter,” he told me passionately, moving away from me, his back scraping against the wall.
“It does,” I argued, finally pinning him in the corner of the room. I pressed my nude body flush against his clothed one, and he pushed me away roughly.
“Stop it. Get out.”
I shook my head resolutely. “No.” I started in on his buttons, caressing each one out of the hole. “You want me. I can feel it.” I pressed my hips against his, and he sucked air in through his teeth as I leaned against his erection.
“God damn it, Kristen. Get out before I do something I regret,” he barked at me, his words sounding melodic through his accent. I finished with his buttons like I didn’t hear him, letting my hands trail up his torso and chest before pushing the shirt off of his shoulders. He pushed me away again; this time, I tripped and fell back onto the bed.
It all happened very fast. I fell back spread-eagle; embarrassed, I tried to cross my legs and sit up - but he flashed over to me, wrenching his pants down and sliding into me so roughly that it knocked my teeth together. It also caused me to bite my tongue; I stuck it out of my mouth to inspect the damage as Rob hovered above me, motionless, filling me to the hilt. The sight of my blood did something crazy to him - he sucked my tongue into his mouth, tasting the coppery rust and groaning. His thrusts were hard, powerful, but when I went to grip onto him for support, he hissed don’t touch me so venomously that I felt it vibrate my bones.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked me roughly, leaning onto his knees and picking my butt up off of the bed. It drove him truer, harder, and I was already sore. “Answer me,” he hissed, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at him.
“Yes,” I groaned. That answer did not please him - he made a noise of frustration, and then flipped me onto my stomach.
“Get on your knees,” he commanded, and before I had steadied myself he was already back in me, filling me. “I can’t even stand to see your face, Kristen.” He pinched my hips hard in his hands.
Something about hearing my name fall from his lips - it was like reminding me that he knew exactly who he was fucking - made me come apart at the seams. My groans became louder, more frenzied, and I backed up into his thrusts.
“Stop it,” he demanded me. “You don’t get to come.” He pulled out then, and I could hear him groaning - he was pumping his length with his hand, and then I felt the wetness all over my back.
He didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even pause. He nearly kicked me off of his bed, shoving my trench coat in my face. “Happy?” he asked, grinning at me in a way I had never seen.
I put on my trench coat without comment, the tingling between my legs still present and dying for his touch. The come on my back stuck to the coat, and I stepped into my heels delicately. “Thank you,” I told him simply, and I watched the cruelty leave his eyes - it was replaced with something darker, something deeper.
“Get out,” he whispered.
*
He came to my room the next night. I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard a quiet knock on the door - my whole body flushed, and I wrapped a towel around myself before stepping to it.
His pants were already unbuttoned by the time I got the door open, and he wrenched the towel away from my body as I frantically tore his shirt over his head. He pressed himself against me and murmured so warm - I took his pants down to his ankles and nearly threw him against the door. He watched me as I took him into my mouth, loving the taste of him. He felt just as I remembered, and I could feel the blood rushing through his length if I pressed my tongue against the strong vein. He groaned as I took him back into my throat, gripping his hands into my hair painfully.
*
He slid me a copy of his room key wordlessly the next day, so that night I breezed into his room without knocking. He was already naked - I took a moment to admire the beautiful physique that he had accomplished for Edward’s sake, before he picked me up and laid me onto the bed.
His head dipped between my legs before I could even make a sound. His hands snaked up my body, cupping my breasts in the way he knew I loved, and I ground my hips against his face so hard that his teeth accidentally nipped against the sensitive nerve. I made such a noise that he did it again on purpose, and my hands found their way into his disheveled locks, just as his had found mine the night before.
*
My hands fumbled for leverage - I found the dresser and clung on for dear life as he bent me over the side of the bed. His hands snaked up and down my back, palmed my breasts, rolled my nipples with their digits. His thrusting began to take on an almost painful quality, and I whimpered - he immediately slowed, but didn’t apologize.
“I’m close,” he muttered, and the sound of his voice shocked me - we hadn’t spoken since that first night. “Are you?”
“Yes,” I bit out - he hadn’t let me come during sex yet, and the build up in my loins was almost too much to bear anymore.
His clever fingers found my clit, pressing it down instead of rubbing it - God, he remembered - and he picked his thrusts back up. I felt like they were in time with my heart beat. He bent down to my ear, his foot planting itself by my elbow. “Get there,” he whispered harshly, pressing down even harder with his fingers. “Come for me.”
*
He gripped my hands over my head as he thrust into me sideways, his other hand holding my leg up - my knee was bent at a ninety degree angle. He kept biting where my leg folded, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin of my thigh.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he bit out, wrapping his arm around my knee and pushing himself up onto his knees so he could hover over me. He looked down at me as he slid himself back in. “Don’t look away from eyes.”
I didn’t peak that night, because I was too busy watching him come apart.
*
He spoke to me on the set for the first time the day after.
“Nice weather,” he commented, looking up into the blazing Mediterranean sun.
I watched the way his neck moved, seeing the bite mark that I had left on him the night before. “It’s beautiful,” I agreed, and he looked over at me softly, like he knew I wasn’t talking about the sun.
*
He stayed for longer than ten minutes that night, letting his breath slow naturally as he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.
“We leave in two days,” he reminded me.
“I know,” I told him.
He hooked his pinky through mine, and didn’t let go until he left for the night.
*
“Here,” he said to me the next day, after the last scene in Italy was finished. He thrust a book in my face, and I took it from him slowly, trying to read his eyes.
He looked blank, like he always did in the day time. I looked down from his eyes and stared at the book - it was a large volume, its title read Italy in Pictures.
I looked back up at him questioningly, and he shrugged. “It’s all the places I would have taken you.”
My breath caught, and I turned away, trying to hide the sudden stinging in the back of my eyelids. He brought my face back around with a finger to my chin, and he stared down at me furiously for a few moments before speaking.
“I’m giving up taste next,” he told me.
I wanted to ask him the simple questions, like how are you going to eat? how are you going to drink? But instead, I asked him, “So it’s over?”
He knew what I meant, and I watched him mull over the answer internally. That had been my fear, ever since the strange relationship between us had formed - that as soon as we got back to the States, the bubble would pop and I would be left worse off than before.
“I can’t taste you,” he said slowly, shrugging. “But I’m sure we can find ways around that.”
Then he smiled down at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back as I saw some sort of fire being lit behind his eyes.
He took away smelling next. He walked around the closed-off set with tissues stuck up his nostrils, and a wooden clothespin pinching his nose together. The makeup artists were getting slightly frustrated with him, because every time he took of the clothespin, there were two red dents in his nostrils that were nearly impossible to cover.
Everyone found it hilarious. Except me.
“Action!” Catherine shouted at me, and I began to sprint through the streets of Volterra.
I ran through throngs of extras gathered for the “festival.” I shoved them out of the way, shouting “Move!” and “Excuse me!” every few seconds. My eyes fell on the clock tower, and I stopped in my tracks. I could hear the motion of the camera coming up behind me; I could see the other camera panning onto my face as I locked my vision on Rob. On Edward.
He was standing shirtless underneath the clock tower, the bags under his eyes nearly purple. I wondered if makeup had to perfect them much. His face was towards the sky, his expression was almost peaceful. I began running again, shouting “Edward!” at the top of my lungs in a frenzied voice.
I knocked into his warm, solid body. “Edward!” I cried again, beating against his chest. “We’ve got to move!”
Rob cocked his head, looking down into my face. He smiled sadly, and cupped my cheek with his calloused hand. I automatically leaned into his touch, closing my eyes. “Amazing,” he whispered. “Carlisle was right, after all.”
“Cut!” Catherine yelled excitedly, but I barely heard her. Rob had yet to take his hand away from my face, had yet to break his stare.
“Still use the same shampoo?” he asked me finally, breaking away. He was taking in long, deep breaths.
“Sunsilk,” I agreed quickly.
“Still the same perfume?”
“Blue by Polo Ralph Lauren,” I told him, nodding.
He picked up my wrist in his long digits, and then put the pulse point right against his nose. He inhaled slowly, and then dropped it back down. “I’m sure Michael enjoys it, too.” He turned from me and fished out a tissue and a clothespin from his pocket.
“Michael and I-“ I started to explain, but he walked away like he couldn’t even hear me.
*
FLASHBACK.
“I’ve got a surprise for you, love,” Rob said to me eagerly, guiding me through the hotel hallways that we resided in before New Moon began filming.
I was exhausted - maybe that wasn’t an excuse, but that was the reason. I felt less than sexy, less than beautiful, less than charming, less than witty, less than anything that involved me doing something besides finding the perfect spot on that delicious King sized mattress. I sighed loudly, hoping to convey my impatience with whatever he had cooked up. It didn’t deter him; in fact, he yanked on my hand harder and sent a smile at me from over his shoulder.
“Rob,” I groaned. “I’m too tired for this.”
He silenced me with a short kiss as we got to the door. He slid in his key, grinning at me. “You’ll love this. I swear, darling.”
I didn’t believe it. I just wanted a hot shower to melt the day away - pre-production of New Moon was rougher than Twilight, and Rob just didn’t have to shoulder as much weight this time, since his role was considerably smaller. Resentment welled up inside of me as I thought of him lounging around the hotel all day while I was dragged from costume fittings to motorcycle lessons to battling the screenwriters.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered to me, kissing me on the neck. I did as I was told; that cheater, he knew what those kisses did to me. “Hold on to my hand.” I complied, grasping his clever fingers as he guided me into our hotel room - I heard him kick the door shut behind me, and it locked automatically.
He led me in the direction of our bedroom - I sighed again. If he was expecting me to have sex with him, then he was in for a world of disappointment. Thinking about him touching my sweaty, exhausted body made me cringe.
“Are you ready?” he whispered in my ear, his breath blowing into my face. I inhaled out of habit, smelling his Orbit gum and Marlboros.
“Yeah,” I said grudgingly.
“Open your eyes.”
I opened them slowly, taking in the sight before me. Our bed had red rose petals crushed along the white comforter, contrasting beautifully. There was a bottle of something on the bed, and I turned to face him. He was looking down at me with an expectant smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you,” I whispered, kissing him on his Adam’s apple.
“I just… want tonight to be about you,” he told me softly. “Lay down.”
I balked. “Rob, I’m really not-“
He shook his head. “Lay down, beautiful.”
I backed up onto the bed, laying down in a huff. The silkiness of the rose petals grazed my arms, and I picked one up, rubbing it between my fingers. I watched Rob through half-lidded eyes, watched as he lit a couple of candles and cursed softly when the match flared up. I watched as he moved over the iPod Home that was stationed on the floor, and began playing King of Leon’s Aha Shake Heartbreak album - an album that would always be ours. I picked up the bottle lying on the bed - massage oil.
Ah.
He pulled his shirt over his head - I scrutinized his body internally. He definitely had been slacking on the crunches. But he was warm and he was mine, and I couldn’t help but smile as he crawled over me, nuzzling into my neck. “I love you,” he breathed quietly. “Lift up,” he commanded, pulling at the hem of my shirt and lifting it off of my body.
I ran my fingers down his back, feeling the tight muscles contract. He pressed kisses into my collar bone, tracing the protuberant bone with his nose. “So tiny,” he whispered. “Flip over.”
I did as I was told, and before I knew it his hands were covered in oil and they were working out the muscles on my back. I sighed contentedly, burying my face in my arms as his lovely fingers kneaded knots in my spine. “You’re working so hard, and I wish I could be there for you every day, to relieve the burden. But you’re so strong, love. So independent. So…” His voice broke a bit, and I turned onto my back again, looking up into his face. I could feel the rose petals sticking to the oil.
“So… what?” I questioned, staring up into his face that was sheathed in shadows. The candles’ light danced off the angles of his face, and I reached up to trace his jaw line.
He took my fingers to his lips, kissing each of them with equal tenderness. “So mine,” he said finally, looking terrified of the words.
I stiffened immediately. I wasn’t anybody’s. Not even his. I was barely even my own person these days; I was an image and a household name, and it made me want to cling on fiercely to my own identity even more. I couldn’t give anymore of myself away, not even to him. I shook my head at him, looking away.
We fell asleep on different sides of the bed that night; I barely gave it a second thought. The next morning, he was just as chipper as ever - I never tried to delve deeper, never tried to see into his eyes, into his thoughts.
I never knew that he didn’t sleep a wink that night.
*
I steeled myself for what I was about to do. A thousand words ran through my mind, all of them equally degrading - whore, slut, skank - but I couldn’t dissuade myself. Talking to him didn’t work. Being around him didn’t work. Crying over him certainly didn’t work. But he was a man; not only that, he was a man in love. He might have detested me, he might have cringed at the sight of me, he might have denied me to the whole world. But I knew he was still in love with me.
So I wrapped my trench coat tighter around my waist, and knocked solidly on his door.
It took him a moment to answer; in fact, it took him so long that I could feel my nerve slowly dwindling as I stood in the hotel hallway at one in the morning in nothing but a black trench coat and red kitten heels. But then I heard the slide of the lock being undone, and I thought, Rob is right behind that door and it kept my feet firmly planted on the ground.
He pulled the door open, leaning slightly on the jam. He had a bottle of Heineken in his hands, and the way his fingers curled around the neck made me feel confident, sexy, bold. “Kristen,” he acknowledged coldly.
“Rob,” I answered, and then pushed my way into his room without asking for any sort of permission. I looked around the messy hotel; his clothes were strewn everywhere and there was a bowl still half-packed lying on his nightstand. The room reeked of marijuana and cigarettes and sweat, and I didn’t turn around to face him until I heard the door being closed and locked again.
“It’s late,” he said finally, after staring at me through hazy eyes for a good ten seconds.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I told him, fidgeting with the belt around my coat.
“Interesting attire,” he noted, setting down the bottle and leaning against the wall. He was a good two yards away from me, and I knew he wouldn’t move any closer.
It was the opening I was looking for. I undid the belt and dropped the trench coat to the floor. I was left in nothing but my red heels.
Rob knocked his head against the wall so hard it probably left some sort of indention. “What are you doing?” he hissed at me, scrabbling his hands against the wood paneling.
I moved towards him, swallowing the embarrassment of being left completely naked for his perusal. “I miss you,” I told him quietly, the words coming out strained from the back of my throat.
“It doesn’t matter,” he told me passionately, moving away from me, his back scraping against the wall.
“It does,” I argued, finally pinning him in the corner of the room. I pressed my nude body flush against his clothed one, and he pushed me away roughly.
“Stop it. Get out.”
I shook my head resolutely. “No.” I started in on his buttons, caressing each one out of the hole. “You want me. I can feel it.” I pressed my hips against his, and he sucked air in through his teeth as I leaned against his erection.
“God damn it, Kristen. Get out before I do something I regret,” he barked at me, his words sounding melodic through his accent. I finished with his buttons like I didn’t hear him, letting my hands trail up his torso and chest before pushing the shirt off of his shoulders. He pushed me away again; this time, I tripped and fell back onto the bed.
It all happened very fast. I fell back spread-eagle; embarrassed, I tried to cross my legs and sit up - but he flashed over to me, wrenching his pants down and sliding into me so roughly that it knocked my teeth together. It also caused me to bite my tongue; I stuck it out of my mouth to inspect the damage as Rob hovered above me, motionless, filling me to the hilt. The sight of my blood did something crazy to him - he sucked my tongue into his mouth, tasting the coppery rust and groaning. His thrusts were hard, powerful, but when I went to grip onto him for support, he hissed don’t touch me so venomously that I felt it vibrate my bones.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked me roughly, leaning onto his knees and picking my butt up off of the bed. It drove him truer, harder, and I was already sore. “Answer me,” he hissed, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at him.
“Yes,” I groaned. That answer did not please him - he made a noise of frustration, and then flipped me onto my stomach.
“Get on your knees,” he commanded, and before I had steadied myself he was already back in me, filling me. “I can’t even stand to see your face, Kristen.” He pinched my hips hard in his hands.
Something about hearing my name fall from his lips - it was like reminding me that he knew exactly who he was fucking - made me come apart at the seams. My groans became louder, more frenzied, and I backed up into his thrusts.
“Stop it,” he demanded me. “You don’t get to come.” He pulled out then, and I could hear him groaning - he was pumping his length with his hand, and then I felt the wetness all over my back.
He didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even pause. He nearly kicked me off of his bed, shoving my trench coat in my face. “Happy?” he asked, grinning at me in a way I had never seen.
I put on my trench coat without comment, the tingling between my legs still present and dying for his touch. The come on my back stuck to the coat, and I stepped into my heels delicately. “Thank you,” I told him simply, and I watched the cruelty leave his eyes - it was replaced with something darker, something deeper.
“Get out,” he whispered.
*
He came to my room the next night. I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard a quiet knock on the door - my whole body flushed, and I wrapped a towel around myself before stepping to it.
His pants were already unbuttoned by the time I got the door open, and he wrenched the towel away from my body as I frantically tore his shirt over his head. He pressed himself against me and murmured so warm - I took his pants down to his ankles and nearly threw him against the door. He watched me as I took him into my mouth, loving the taste of him. He felt just as I remembered, and I could feel the blood rushing through his length if I pressed my tongue against the strong vein. He groaned as I took him back into my throat, gripping his hands into my hair painfully.
*
He slid me a copy of his room key wordlessly the next day, so that night I breezed into his room without knocking. He was already naked - I took a moment to admire the beautiful physique that he had accomplished for Edward’s sake, before he picked me up and laid me onto the bed.
His head dipped between my legs before I could even make a sound. His hands snaked up my body, cupping my breasts in the way he knew I loved, and I ground my hips against his face so hard that his teeth accidentally nipped against the sensitive nerve. I made such a noise that he did it again on purpose, and my hands found their way into his disheveled locks, just as his had found mine the night before.
*
My hands fumbled for leverage - I found the dresser and clung on for dear life as he bent me over the side of the bed. His hands snaked up and down my back, palmed my breasts, rolled my nipples with their digits. His thrusting began to take on an almost painful quality, and I whimpered - he immediately slowed, but didn’t apologize.
“I’m close,” he muttered, and the sound of his voice shocked me - we hadn’t spoken since that first night. “Are you?”
“Yes,” I bit out - he hadn’t let me come during sex yet, and the build up in my loins was almost too much to bear anymore.
His clever fingers found my clit, pressing it down instead of rubbing it - God, he remembered - and he picked his thrusts back up. I felt like they were in time with my heart beat. He bent down to my ear, his foot planting itself by my elbow. “Get there,” he whispered harshly, pressing down even harder with his fingers. “Come for me.”
*
He gripped my hands over my head as he thrust into me sideways, his other hand holding my leg up - my knee was bent at a ninety degree angle. He kept biting where my leg folded, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin of my thigh.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he bit out, wrapping his arm around my knee and pushing himself up onto his knees so he could hover over me. He looked down at me as he slid himself back in. “Don’t look away from eyes.”
I didn’t peak that night, because I was too busy watching him come apart.
*
He spoke to me on the set for the first time the day after.
“Nice weather,” he commented, looking up into the blazing Mediterranean sun.
I watched the way his neck moved, seeing the bite mark that I had left on him the night before. “It’s beautiful,” I agreed, and he looked over at me softly, like he knew I wasn’t talking about the sun.
*
He stayed for longer than ten minutes that night, letting his breath slow naturally as he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.
“We leave in two days,” he reminded me.
“I know,” I told him.
He hooked his pinky through mine, and didn’t let go until he left for the night.
*
“Here,” he said to me the next day, after the last scene in Italy was finished. He thrust a book in my face, and I took it from him slowly, trying to read his eyes.
He looked blank, like he always did in the day time. I looked down from his eyes and stared at the book - it was a large volume, its title read Italy in Pictures.
I looked back up at him questioningly, and he shrugged. “It’s all the places I would have taken you.”
My breath caught, and I turned away, trying to hide the sudden stinging in the back of my eyelids. He brought my face back around with a finger to my chin, and he stared down at me furiously for a few moments before speaking.
“I’m giving up taste next,” he told me.
I wanted to ask him the simple questions, like how are you going to eat? how are you going to drink? But instead, I asked him, “So it’s over?”
He knew what I meant, and I watched him mull over the answer internally. That had been my fear, ever since the strange relationship between us had formed - that as soon as we got back to the States, the bubble would pop and I would be left worse off than before.
“I can’t taste you,” he said slowly, shrugging. “But I’m sure we can find ways around that.”
Then he smiled down at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back as I saw some sort of fire being lit behind his eyes.