Text Size Large SizeMedium SizeSmall Size    Color Scheme Black SchemeWhite SchemeGrey SchemePaper Scheme        

Bruises (Purple & Black)

Bella & Edward’s first time – or How Bella woke up bruised and covered in feathers. Missing scene from Breaking Dawn.

Set during Breaking Dawn Specifically, this takes place in the "page break" at the end of page 85 -- the time after Bella joins Edward on the Beach and before she wakes up the next morning covered in feathers. ***This story contains adult content. It is recommended for ages 18 and up. Consider yourself warned.***

1. Bruises (Purple & Black)

Rating 5/5   Word Count 4138   Review this Chapter

* * *

* * *

“Forever,” he agreed, and then pulled us gently into deeper water.

At that moment, I was far too consumed with my own nerves to recognize any similar emotions in Edward. He seemed so calm and collected beside me. Though the waves now lapped at my shoulders, I was far too preoccupied with both our lack of clothing. We were married now; husband and wife. Yet we’d never disrobed in front of each other before and though the water kept our bodies shielded still, I could feel his hands caressing me beneath the waves – marble fingers gliding down my bare shoulders, feather touches across my breasts and down my torso and hips, holding me there and pressing me against him.

My lips trembled and I wished to pass it off for shivering. The goose bumps, too, tiny bumps puckering against my exposed flesh. But the water was too tepid, the air too warm for me to be cold – even now, even pressed against Edward’s icy flesh. This was one of the precautions he’d taken; trying to make things as easy as possible.

None of this would be easy.

Except that it was easy. Being with Edward was easy.

Intimacy was just a bit dangerous in my current (mortal) condition.

Edward ducked his head down, the moonlight shining on his pale skin and his wet, bronze-colored hair. I felt him press his lips to my throat – gently, yet with more pressure than I was used to. When he pressed his lips to my skin again, he’d moved farther south – his mouth now nestled in the curve between my breasts, hovering just at the water’s surface.

I trembled in his arms and I knew, this time, he understood. It was nerves, yes, but also … something else. Desire.

This was a new feeling. A new caress.

Ever so gently, Edward’s tongue flicked out from between his teeth and tasted the flesh at my bosom. My fingers wound their way into his hair of their own accord and Edward continued his exploration south – his head now dipped below the water’s surface. I clung to his shoulders for balance. The waves were not strong, but I was clumsy already and my knees were weaker than normal.

Beneath the water’s surface, Edward’s lips traced circles around my belly-button; in the crook of my elbow; at the swell of my hip. I felt Edward’s hands exploring the curve of my hips and legs. I was certain his eyes were open – seeing everything despite the water’s distortion. I was shaking again; nervous. Exposed.

Then, another new sensation.

Cold, tender lips sucked gently at the joint from hip to thigh.

And my knees gave out; they buckled beneath me.

Edward was above the water’s surface, cradling me in his arms before I could fall.

I was suddenly aware that we were no longer blanketed by the waves. I was held aloft in Edward’s arms and he stood at the water’s edge, the waves lapping at his feet. I gulped involuntarily.

This was the intimacy I’d always desired, and yet I still worried. Was I really enough? Would I be able to please him, despite my human inadequacies? I knew that what we were attempting was dangerous; I knew he would have to hold back – control himself more than ever. But would he still enjoy it? Would he still be able to find some small modicum of pleasure?

“You’re not hurt?” he murmured, his eyes scanning me more with medical precision than with husbandly desire.

I hummed back negatively. I was fine, physically. But I was annoyed by his clinical examination of me.

I touched my fingers to his face, drawing his gaze back to mine. I leaned up and touched my lips to his ever so gently and I watched happily as his eyes half-closed at the sensation.

“Do you mind the sand?” His velvet voice was low.

I shook my head. “No.”

Edward laid my down gently where we stood, the waves tickling my toes, the sand soft beneath my bare back. His eyes ran over me again critically.

I sighed and drew his gaze back to mine again with another kiss. “Edward, stop,” I said. “You won’t break me.”

“But –.”

Edward stopped mid-sentence – mid-protest – when I took his hand from my waist and placed it against my left breast. My heart beat steadily beneath his palm, but I watched as his eyes grew wide in wonderment at an entirely different sensation – the sensation of me, in his hand.

“Oh,” he breathed, his eyes now watching as his hand caressed my flesh wonderingly. “Oh, Bella.”

I unwound my fingers from his hair and traced them – feather-light – down his jaw, across his marble chest, to the joint of his hip. He sucked in another deep breath at the feeling of my hand so close to his groin.

I bit my lip – a nervous habit – and looked up at him questioningly. I had to be careful; I must tread lightly to make sure things went well. To make sure our trying was successful. “Is this okay?”

He sucked in another deep breath and nodded. I’d never seen him so undone and though part of me knew it was a fine line we walked, I also delighted at the sensation. I liked that Edward did not have complete and utterly perfect control. I liked seeing the reactions I could create in him.

My fingers traced farther into previously forbidden territory. My breathing was shaky; this was new to me, too. But just as I’d reached my goal, Edward snatched my hand away – clasping my wrist tightly between his fingers. He pressed it into the sand above my head. “Wait,” he said through gritted teeth. I could feel the blood pooling beneath his grip.

I held my breath for as long as possible, watching with wide worried eyes as Edward struggled to compose himself. He was struggling with blood lust – that much was obvious. But I became aware that he was struggling with something else, too. I could feel his desire for me – physically, it was firm and pressed up against my leg where our hips now lay so close together. Though I was aware of the danger I was in at that exact moment from Edward’s less-than-human desires, I was secretly thrilled by the human reaction I could create in him.

Still, his eyes were dark in the moonlight, as he stared at the pulse threading along my throat. I tried not to swallow. I tried to remain as still as possible, but his grip on my wrist had not lessened and it was beginning to hurt.

“Edward,” I gasped. “Edward, my wrist …”

He realized quickly – too quickly for me to see every flicker of emotion that crossed his face – that he was hurting me and released my wrist almost instantaneously, at the same time, pushing himself off and away from me.

He sank into the sand a few feet away, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hung forward dejectedly. “Bella, I’m so sorry.” His voice was defeated.

I groaned and rolled my eyes. He was being difficult. “Edward,” I said. Nothing. “Edward, stop it,” I snapped, more loudly this time. I crawled across the sand to him and squirmed my way between his knees. I tried not to think about the fact that we were both naked; that he was still aroused. I had to focus.

“Edward, look at me,” I said, taking his face between my hands. I drew his gaze to meet mine. “Stop being so damn petulant!”

“I was hurting you.”

“And I told you so and you stopped.”

“But –.”

“Kiss me.”

“Bella …”

“Kiss me!”

“But, I …”

Kiss me, goddamn it!!!” I screamed into his face, leaning into him. His fingers fell from my face and brushed across my skin. Then, suddenly, he darted forward and pressed his lips fiercely to mine.

We tumbled backwards onto the sand and he hovered over me – still careful not to burden me with his weight, but he was close enough that I could feel the pressure of his marble form against my own, much softer flesh.

Edward’s kiss was passionate. Fervent.

My body began reacting to his kiss without any input from my brain.

My legs coiled around him, one locking behind his knee, the other pressed higher against his upper thigh. My arms wound their way around his neck and they moved constantly – fingers tangled in his hair, then pressing up against his chest or holding his hip closer to mine. I wanted to feel every inch of him over every inch of me. I didn’t just want to have sex with Edward; I wanted to meld our entire bodies into one. I wanted to press myself into his skin and feel him completely surround me. I was overwhelmed and still I wanted more.

When I finally – reluctantly – pulled my mouth from Edward’s for the necessary task of breathing, his lips found instant purchase against my throat and behind my ear.

Slowly, I realized I was making noise. Sounds emanated from my throat that I was completely unaware of: sighs, gasps, moans and groans, and garbled words that sounded remotely like Edward’s name.

It was all too much. I felt like I might explode.

And just before detonation, Edward rolled off of me. He didn’t go far – just to the side; I could still feel his hip against mine and his fingers were still woven in my hair. He breathed heavily. I was panting beside him.

“Why … did you … stop?” I begged, breathless.

He grinned in the moonlight. “Just pacing myself,” he said. “And you. I didn’t want you to pass out.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I love you.”

His grin widened. “I love you, too … Mrs. Cullen.” He was enjoying that little phrase more than he should have. I was enjoying it more than I should have, too.

We spent several minutes catching our breath and gathering our senses by lying silently on the sand.

When he finally felt composed – and could hear the relative normal rhythm return to my breathing and the beating of my heart – Edward rolled onto his side. His fingers traced lazy circles over my abdomen. “You know,” he began. “There is a … er, bed … back in the house.”

I turned my head to face him, a shy smile playing on my lips. “A big bed, too, right? With lots of pillows?”

“You’re not sleepy, are you?” he asked, concerned.

I shook my head. “I couldn’t sleep now even if I tried.”

He grinned again. “Good.” Then he leapt to his feet and pulled me up with him. He paused by the tree where we’d left our things. He wrapped my towel around my torso, and pulled me to his side with one arm – then gathered his clothes in his other hand and we made our way up the beach and back to the house.

The light inside the house was too bright. We both squinted as we stepped inside, though Edward’s eyes adjusted almost instantaneously. We stood silently just inside the threshold, staring wide-eyed at the massive white bed and feeling small and child-like. It was … intimidating.

Briefly, I was reminded of my panic attack in the bathroom earlier that evening. I felt the flash of anxiety return – the blush flooding my face; the ball of nerves knotted in my stomach. Dread. Terror.

Then Edward’s lips brushed my forehead – like icy feathers on my skin – and every worry left my body. Yes, I was nervous. So was he. But we were okay with that.

Because we were together.

I steeled myself and attempted to walk across the room to the bed – trying to be brave – but was stopped by Edward’s persistent hold on my hand. “Edward?” Was something wrong?

But any fears that had begun to creep back into my subconscious were instantly eased when I turned and saw the look on Edward’s face.

He appeared earnest, but his eyes sparkled and there was the barest ghost of a smirk on his lips. His gaze wandered down, surveying both our bodies in the artificial light, before glancing at the bed. “We’re covered in sand,” he said solemnly.

I resisted the urge to laugh. Instead, I shook my head, mock worry creasing my eyebrows. “You know, Esme would kill us if we got sand in her nice white bed …”

“I think we’re going to have to get in the shower,” he replied. “We should probably go together, you know. To make sure we’ve gotten all the sand out of our hair.”

“Yeah,” I said, squirming as we made our way into the bathroom. “And out of … other … places.”

Edward threw his head back and laughed whole-heartedly.

The lights in the bathroom were (thankfully) on a dimmer and Edward adjusted them to about half power, so that the room was illuminated in a softer, golden glow. He left my side only briefly, crossing to the walk-in shower to twist the water nozzles on, adjusting the temperature until he felt certain it would be acceptable to me. I watched him as he moved; saw the subtle pull of his muscles as he leaned over. The ripple of his spine.

He caught me watching when he turned back to face me. The crooked smile twitched on his lips. And though I blushed – crimson fire in my cheeks – I didn’t feel bad for staring. He was, after all, my husband. And I’d never seen him naked before; I’d never gotten the chance to notice the subtle movements of his body. Usually I was so distracted by his face, but the rest of his body was just as dazzling.

“My turn,” he said, stalking towards me. He gathered his arms around me – his fingers pressing into the terrycloth at my side – and walked me backwards towards the shower. He stopped at the door, then unwound the towel from around my torso – his eyes never leaving my face – then maneuvered me under the falling water. He stepped in lightly after me, his hands burning into the smallest part of my waist – but he kept his distance. He held me out at arm’s length, and ever so slowly, his eyes left my face and moved down the length of my body.

It was as if he were memorizing every inch of me. He pressed tender, cold kisses to each spot as he took note of it, cataloguing it in his flawless, endless memory. He started with my neck and shoulders and collarbone. Then he moved down each arm – pausing at my inner elbow and wrist. Then each breast and the warm spot between them. My stomach and belly button. The swell of each hip and the joint where it met my thigh. My knees and ankles.

By this time, he had sunk to his knees and knelt before me as if in worship. The water was still warm as it cascaded over our bodies. During his examination of me – not clinical in the very least – I had taken small steps backwards until I was pressed up against the tiled wall. I need the support; I could not stand on my own.

Still kneeling before me, Edward looked up at me from below his eyelashes – the water falling across his face. With one hand pressed firmly against my hip, his other hand came up hesitantly over my abdomen. His fingers danced lightly over the skin there and he pressed his lips against it. His fingers moved south, hovering just above the place where I most desired Edward; the place he seemed most absorbed by at that precise moment. I felt my entire body trembling. His fingers hovered – hesitant.

Edward looked up at me again. “Is this okay?”

I nodded, chewing my lip. I was too nervous to answer.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the skin just above my heat.

My own eyes clasped shut of their own accord and I gasped. My footing gave way and I slipped down the wall – only to be stopped by Edward’s strong arms. He caught me just as I neared the floor and I maneuvered my body until I was on my knees, as well.

And there we sat, kneeling in front of each other, as the water from the shower overhead poured down on us.

Suddenly, it was as if we could not be kept apart. We flew at each other as if pulled by a force greater than gravity. Arms flew around each other, hands explored new and exciting territory. Our lips mashed together vehemently. Edward’s hands were everywhere at once, it seemed, and his caresses left me pleasantly dizzy.

“Bella,” he breathed, his velvet voice thick with an emotion I’d never truly heard in him before. Desire. Lust. “I want you. I need you.”

“Yes,” I sighed back, unable to force anything more coherent past my lips.

Now,” he insisted.

I managed to squeak out an affirmative, “Uh-huh.”

Swiftly, Edward shut off the water and lifted me up in his arms, his lips never leaving me. He carried me into the bedroom – switching off the harsh, overhead lighting as he moved – and tumbled into the bed without ever letting go.

He was careful not to burden me with his full weight, but I felt the pressure of his body over mine more powerfully than any time before. His fervent kisses and caresses did not lessen. If anything, they intensified.

I couldn’t see clearly anymore. My senses were overwhelmed with other sensations. New and wonderful sensations.

His hands pressed against my face as he kissed me – again and again; over and over. For the first time, he deepened our kiss – opening his mouth to me. Our tongues danced and I fought the urge to become entirely lost in just his kiss. Because while our mouths explored each other, Edward’s hands moved from my hair, to my throat, to the swell of my breasts, then down my stomach and to my hips. His fingers dug into the flesh – his grasp more powerful than I was accustomed to. And yet it was not enough, it was never enough. He held me now more tightly than he’d ever held me, and still it was not tight enough. I pressed myself ever closer to him – as if trying to crawl into his skin. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to be held tighter. My legs wrapped around his, my arms tugged at his back – pressing myself to him.

And he responded back in kind, for once just being in the moment with me.

I was beyond thrilled.

For a moment, he paused – his face hovering over mine, our noses touching. I could feel his icy breath on my face – taste the sweet scent of it on my tongue. His eyes fluttered closed. “A moment,” he begged between gasping breaths.

I nodded back. A moment was okay.

Then, he began kissing my again – just as passionately, yet slowly. Not more carefully; but rather, more deliberately.

This was it, I could tell.

Edward shifted so that he hovered over me – the entire length of his body stretched out over mine. With his knee, he nudged my legs apart. I pressed my bent knees against his hips as he nestled himself between my legs. He lingered there. I could feel his arousal against my thigh and I felt suddenly nervous again.

He kissed me again – simply; sweetly. He closed his eyes briefly, licking his lips. When he opened his eyes again, they were dark – smoldering. “Are you sure?” he asked, giving me one last chance to beg out.

As if that would have been even remotely possible.

“Yes,” I said, more sure of this moment than of anything else in my entire life.

He nodded, kissing me again. And as his lips opened to mine, I felt him press inside of me.

I gasped audibly, shocked by the sudden sensation of having Edward inside of me. He stopped instantly, but did not pull away. He did not panic or overreact.

His eyes opened slowly and he looked down at me carefully. “Are you okay?” he said, his voice deep and almost strained. I realized, suddenly, that he was feeling something similar to what I was feeling. Just as I was consumed and overwhelmed by the sensation of having Edward inside of me, he was consumed and overwhelmed by the sensation of being inside of me.

I nodded and leaned up to kiss his lips – the movement creating a new pressure between our joined bodies. I gasped again, this time into his mouth and he swallowed the sound. Instead of pulling away – as I’d feared he might – he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth to mine again. Gently, I felt him begin to move inside of me – a gentle, slow rhythm that gradually picked up speed and intensity.

And as he kissed me and pressed more deeply inside of me, Edward touched me. His fingers clasped my collarbone, my throat, my hips and waist, my arms and my legs. Holding me to him, pressing against me wherever he could find purchase. It was as if he felt the same need I had felt earlier – to crawl inside of my very skin.

And even as his touch grew stronger – more persistent – I craved more. In some ways it hurt, but not in the way Edward had worried about. He was not crushing me. Even as he held me tighter, it was never tight enough. As he pressed against me, so I pressed back – trying to push our two bodies impossibly closer; ever closer.

As Edward’s rhythm grew, a strange new excitement built up inside of me. It felt white hot and electric. My vision – already clouded and overwhelmed – suddenly took on colors and flashes of light that were not there. I could hear the blood rushing past my ears. It felt like I would explode; as if my body could not contain all of the sensations it was currently experiencing.

The same noises I’d been making before on the beach were coming from my mouth again – only louder; more intense. I found myself moving with Edward’s rhythm – our two bodies moving and pulsing together like one.

We could not speak.

And then, the explosion I’d been expecting finally came. It erupted like Vesuvius. Molten lava and ash came raining down and I was screaming out Edward’s name, each sound one of pure ecstasy. My back flew up from the mattress and Edward’s arms came around my back and held me up – pressing me against his chest as wave after wave of explosive rapture poured over me. Vaguely, I was aware that Edward was suddenly convulsing inside of me.

He pressed me down into the mattress and I was dizzy and disoriented. I still couldn’t see right. I heard him growl – feral and erotic – and then I heard something tear and rip. It was not me; I was ravished but complete. Beyond myself and the man inside of me, I didn’t care what happened. Death, destruction, apocalypse, whatever. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered in that moment beyond Edward and myself.

Something soft whispered around my head; it tickled, but I brushed it away, preoccupied with the new sensation filling me up inside. I breathed heavily, basking in the joy that had overtaken me. I felt hot, happy tears prick the corners of my eyes. And even as Edward collapsed over me, he did not pull away. Our bodies remained pleasantly connected – the heat from my own so powerful, that even Edward was warm.

After several long moments, Edward rolled to the side, reluctantly making our bodies two separate entities again. But he did not pull away from me. His arms stayed around me and I nestled against his side, one leg flung carelessly over him.

“Bella?” His voice was thick.


But I didn’t hear what he said. The blood was rushing past my ears still and it was too loud and the colors flooded my vision, so I closed my eyes and sucked in the fresh night air that blew in from the open door and then I drifted away.

* * *

The End

* * *