Yeah, uhm...
it's a humble, sweet new chapter, just to say 'Hi, I'm back!' to you guys.
It starts with one of the odd flashbacks, but then continues right were I left you all hanging (for which I'm seriously, seriously sorry).
Enough said.
Twilight is still not mine, and Songster - believe it or not - is still the fastest beta in the west.
There you go...

Little Green & Easybella (39)

(FORKS, JULY 2005)

With her hand on the fridge door handle, she paused when she noticed the subtle change in the piano sounds drifting into the kitchen from the Cullen parlor. For a moment, the tripping arpeggios Edward had been repeating for an hour lost their stringency, slowed down, then almost came to a halt. When they turned into a seemingly aimless string of notes, Bella smiled, knowing that the boy would be done playing soon. But not yet. She knew his routine. Not yet…

Bella leaned her face against the cool metal of the refrigerator, closed her eyes and waited for it.

Come on, Little Green!

For a moment, the piano play was reduced to just three notes moving in a breathless circle: once… twice… In her mind, Bella pictured a dog that couldn't quite believe its master had just unfastened the leash – then the music took off joyfully, finally free, and with a vigor Edward's previous practicing had clearly been lacking.

With a half huff-half laugh, Bella let out the breath she'd been holding. Edward improvising was the best. She loved the power, the inhibition and the very un-Edwardly lack of perceptible order that went with it when he really let loose at the keys. It made her heart swell with pride and happiness.

Edward improvising also meant it was time to open the fridge and get to work. Mrs. Cullen had been adamant about making sure that Edward stayed well-nourished and hydrated when he was practicing. Not that Bella needed the reminder. It had become obvious pretty quickly, that their wunderkind frequently lost all sense of time – and of profane things like basic bodily needs – when he played, ever since the Cullens brought home the piano. No surprise here.

That's Little Green for you…

The only surprise was how fiercely she sometimes felt the need to take care of him, like just now. Her affection for him could flare unexpectedly while she was doing the most mundane things, like a sudden rush of maternal instinct, despite her young age of only seventeen. Shaking herself out of it, Bella turned to the task at hand. The boy was too skinny; there was no denying that.

A few minutes later, to the sound of a thundering final chord, she put the top slice on top of the PBJ sandwich. When she entered the parlor, plate in one hand and a glass of milk in the other, Edward was still sitting with his head bent down and his fingers resting on the keys; the faint humming of the piano strings no longer audible, but still a current in the air.

Bella placed everything on the coffee table and stood, waiting patiently for a sign that the boy was re-entering the real world after wandering the wilderness of his astonishing musical mind.

And there it was… a slight inclination of his head, most likely unnoticeable to someone less familiar with his subtle body language, but for Bella it was as bright and unmistakable as the Bat Signal.

When she sat down on the piano bench next to Edward, the leather cushion gave a soft sigh under the additional weight. The boy sighed along with it, acknowledging Bella's presence and definitely resurfacing from his musical reverie for the day. His hands slipped off the keyboard and landed limply in his lap. In lieu of a verbal greeting, he leaned his head against Bella's shoulder, welcoming her warmth, welcoming her scent, welcoming his friend. She pressed her lips onto his hair and threaded her fingers through his soft locks, gently massaging his scalp.

Like that, they stayed for a while; just breathing in sync and listening to each other's heartbeat.




(BELLA, right the eff now)

I never considered myself a cat person. Not really.

Sure, I did want a cat after Jake had moved out for good, but that was just my desperate self yearning for some kind – any kind – of company. Once the walls of your empty apartment start screaming at you so loudly that you're asking to work overtime on a regular basis just to put off going home, even the presence of a goldfish in a fucking bowl will get you excited. And I'm not into fish either.

But look at me now. Sprawled out on the couch on a Sunday afternoon, killing a bag of potato chips and binge-watching reruns of True Blood. Nothing remarkable about that, leaving aside the fact that I'm recounting Sookie and Bill's shared history to a cat.

A deaf cat.

It's safe to assume she's not listening to my splutter, even without taking her extremely bored demeanor into account. She doesn't even bother to open her eyes. But Lee-Loo and I have become real good friends, and good friends don't keep each other in the dark about what happened in previous seasons of a good TV show if one of them missed those. So I explain away, and if the sound level of Lee-Loo's purr is anything to go by, she seems to appreciate the effort, deaf or not. Or maybe she's just appreciating the warm place on my belly, I don't care.

Does that make me a cat person now? Or does the amount of cat toys cluttering my carpet do that? What about the fact that I have possibly watched every single cat video existing on the Internet by now?

I don't know. All I know is I probably would have gone insane in the last two weeks without Little Lucy, because that's how long it's been since I last was with Little Green.

Little Green, Little Lucy… that's funny, isn't it?

Anyway, since Her Furry Highness helped preserve my sanity, it's only fair I share my potato chips with her, too. That's what friends do. Lee-Loo really loves potato chips. They're probably bad for her, but I only feed her tiny bits, so I hope that's okay. I just can't resist the silly faces she makes when she chews them. It makes me giggle every time. It's a little bit scary, too… those glimpses into her mouth. She's got vampire fangs all right.

But no matter how sweet and funny my new room mate is, she's also a constant reminder of why she's here in the first place, and my patience with the situation is wearing thin. I miss Little Green like crazy. Actually, I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact he's really pulling this off.

Two weeks. And I haven't heard a peep from him. That thought alone is enough to shut me up. Why am I talking to a cat anyway? Frustrated, I jerkily crumple up the now empty chips' bag, making Lee-Loo jump off of me with an offended mew. The sudden lack of warmth on my stomach is nothing compared to the sudden sting of longing I feel inside. How the fuck does he do it? Has he banished me from his mind that easily?

I know I said I would be patient. I know I said I'd understand. But the reality is I don't. I just can't help it; I'm hurt.

I'll admit I didn't realize what he actually meant when he said he needed reclusion to practice. I kind of expected him to take a break every once in a while and, of course, to spend those breaks with me. Talk about dashed expectations.

Two weeks! This is getting ridiculous…

I throw the old afghan off of me and jump to my feet. Like I have done often lately, I start pacing the room. Lee-Loo knows the drill by now and skulks off into the bedroom, obviously bored out of her mind with my antics. If cats could roll their eyes, that's what she'd do now.

It doesn't take much to work myself into a huff these days. A couple holding hands on the bus, and I want to yell at someone. A piano intro to some silly pop song coming on, and I want to smash the radio to pieces. Yes, I'm feeling jealous of piano music – that's how crazy I am at this point. And I talk to my cat. I'm giving the term "crazy cat lady" a whole new meaning.

And don't even get me started on my level of irrational every time I spot Esme carrying Tupperware containers to and fro as if Edward wasn't capable of feeding himself. Or as if it was that unthinkable that maybe I would cook for him. I had already prepared meals for him when I was barely off age, for Christ's sake. She'd better remember that.

Of course, I haven't cooked for him now, but that's not the point. I just don't get why she has to go all mother hen on Edward, or why she gets to see him when I do not. She's imposing on him, that's it.

The point is I could have cooked for him. Even Tanya suggested it, if only to give me an excuse to go see him. I don't know why I didn't do it.

Okay, I do know… if I'm honest with myself, I wanted him to come to me. I was waiting for him to realize he can't stay away from me, and for him to admit he misses me. But it never happened, and now I'm pissed. And if any of that makes me a bad person, then so be it. I'm so over it.

Snapping out of my inner hissy fit, I find myself standing in front of the little bowl by my entry door where I keep my keys. Somehow, my pacing has led me here. Again. Because inside the bowl, there is THAT key, too. I don't know how many times I have been staring at this thing already. It's the key I should have returned to the Cullens long since. The one I used that time when Little Green didn't show up to pick me up from work, and I found him in a not-so-good state, asleep on his piano bench, naked.

Naked. Maybe he is playing in the buff again now, too? Is he playing at all?

I open the door, and tip-toe outside on sock-clad feet like an intruder, as if Edward could actually hear me sneaking around the stairway three stories down. Fully aware of my own ridiculousness, I look up through the row of banisters and listen hard.

Nothing. Not the faintest sound of music.

A meek mewl alerts me to the fact that Lee-Loo has followed me outside, demanding to know what's going on.

"The bastard isn't even practicing," I tell her. Before I know what I'm doing, I grab the cat and the keys, and head upstairs, taking two steps at once.

"I don't care what we agreed upon. If he's not even playing, he can just as well see me."

"Mewrr," Lee-Loo agrees.




There is no sign of Little Green as I enter the hallway. His apartment lays quiet, almost eerily so. No lights are on either, despite the dim sky on this late October afternoon. My mood drops another notch as I realize that he's not even home, probably still at one of his orchestra rehearsals.

Lee-Loo starts squirming in my arm, so I set her down on the floor, quietly laughing at myself for bringing her. Granted, it was a snap decision to go upstairs, but why the hell did I grab the cat? While I watch her disappear through the ajar bedroom door, I briefly contemplate going back to my place but leaving Lee-Loo. Maybe it will give my disloyal boyfriend some incentive of sorts to come and see me if he finds the pet that was supposed to keep me company hang out in his bed.

But no. I won't leave her here. She's a former shelter kitty after all; I don't want her to think she's been dumped again. With a sigh, I begin to move towards the bedroom when suddenly soft piano music starts playing from the parlor. Startled like the trespasser that I actually am, I stumble backwards until my back touches the front door. I jump once more at the sight of Lee-Loo dashing out of the bedroom and making a beeline for the source of the sound. How does she even know there is sound? Cats!

Quickly recovering from my shock, I recognize the song. It's the piano intro of Cat Steven's "Morning Has Broken" I'm hearing. It's canned music too, not Edward playing. And then I hear him talking to Lee-Loo.

He is here after all.

It's ridiculous what simply listening to his voice does to me, knowing I will see him in just a few moments. My heart starts beating wildly, as if I were close to an anxiety attack. My insides feel all funny and I find it hard to breathe.

Jesus, what am I, thirteen? Also, what is it with all this sudden giddy excitement when I basically came here to give Little Green a piece of my mind for making me stay away beyond reason?


There he is. And oh, he is…


Magnificent. Beautiful.

He is also naked. Magnificently, beautifully naked.

And he is smiling at me.

And naked.

I close my eyes and hang my head in defeat, feeling an answering smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. How can I be mad when he is so beautiful, and he beams at me so genuinely, he appears to illuminate the unlit hallway like a spotlight?

And then he is close. He puts his hands on my shoulders and places a soft kiss on my forehead, and all I feel is instant relief. The warmth radiating from him, the familiar scent of his skin mixed with the slightly citrusy note of soap, and the sound of his voice as he says my name once more, ever so softly… It all wraps around me like a warm, silky blanket.

"I'm so happy you're here," he whispers into my hair.

"Yeah," I sigh dreamily. "Me too."

He pulls me into a tight embrace, and my body melts against his. He rubs his nose against my neck, and I almost don't hear what he's saying, it feels so good. I catch on to his words just a moment later…

"I'm sorry."

"As you should be." I didn't mean to say that, but I just can't help reproaching him after all. "I was worried about you."

I only realize the truth of that as I say it. I really have been worried, probably because that image of him, cold and dehydrated in front of the piano, is always lingering somewhere in the back of my mind.

"I know. I swear I was going to come to you tonight. I just got home after rehearsal, and on my way back, I decided I didn't want to fight it anymore. I missed you so much, Bella. I only wanted to take a shower and shave; I wanted to… look nice. Smell nice, too. For you."

Oh, you do smell nice, Little Green, you really do.

Pulling back, I open my eyes, and – fuck, he's looking damn nice, too. I can't hold in the gasp at the sight of him. Lulled into bliss by his sweet speech, I have forgotten about the lack of clothing on his fine body.

"I should have come to you sooner," he continues, oblivious of his effect on me. "But I was going to. You just beat me to it. I'm really sorry."

"Okay," I breathe. "You're so sexy."

Oh yes, I'm totally sticking to my plan here, admonishing him and all, aren't I? And to add insult to injury, as I drop my gaze to revel in all of my boyfriend's masculine beauty, I also get a good look at myself, reminding me that I'm still wearing the baggy sweat pants and ratty t-shirt I put on, when I thought vegging out in front of the TV would be the only thing in my immediate future today.

Great! Here Little Green was cleaning up and grooming for me, and I couldn't even be bothered to comb my hair, never mind putting on something pretty. I don't get a chance to dive into self-consciousness though, not with this man…

"You're the sexy one, Bella. You don't know how much I missed just looking at you."

I feel heat rising to my cheeks, but it's such a good feeling.

"I missed looking at you, too."

How is it Little Green can say the sweetest things when I'm in my stained work-wear, a stupid apron at that, or in my worst couch potato attire?

Oh… maybe because I never wear anything really nice? Shit. I suddenly realize the best clothes he ever saw me in were the ones Esme had lent me for that disastrous dinner at the Cullens'. This is bad. I make a silent vow to go and buy something new to wear for the night of Edward's concert. Now that I have a man who appreciates my body, maybe it's time I do the same. A sexy dress for the concert, one of those tailored things that shows off the female form. And make-up. And lingerie.

If I pack some sandwiches for work in the morning instead of buying lunch for a month or so, I surely can afford –

"Dance with me, Bella."


"Did you just say dance?"

"Yes, dance," he confirms. He takes my hand and gently interlaces our fingers. Automatically, I reach up to grab his opposite shoulder when I feel his other hand at the small of my back. And before the meaning of all this really registers with me, he is swinging me around in a near perfect waltz, just as Mr. Stevens makes it to the second verse of 'Morning Has Broken.'

Wow… Little Green knows how to dance!

I always considered myself to be pretty clumsy, really not much of a dancer at all. But he is leading expertly, gently but firmly steering me here and there, and I surprise myself with my ability to relax in his arms and simply follow his steps.

I'm sure we're quite the sight, waltzing like this… him in his birthday suit, and me looking like a homeless person who lost her shoes. Good thing no one is seeing this, apart from Lee-Loo, who is watching us from the bedroom door, rather unsympathetically. I would be laughing hysterically if it weren't for the way Little Green looks into my eyes, and the love and admiration I can see in his.

"See? We're dancing," he says. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," I answer honestly. "Where did you learn to dance this well? When you were at music school?"

I'm amazed at my multi-tasking skills, dancing and talking at the same time without stumbling. That's how good he is, taking the lead. Also, in spite of the narrow space and him never taking his eyes off mine, we're never getting even close to hitting the walls or any furniture. That alone is extremely impressive in my book.

"No. There were all kinds of dance classes, but most of them involved touching one another, and that wouldn't have gone over well with me. I wasn't ready for that then. But Esme used to dance with me sometimes when I was little. She taught me some ballroom dancing too. I didn't really know that I remembered the steps until just now."

"You remember them well," I praise. "So… Cat Stevens, huh? That's kind of ancient."

He shrugs. "Do you remember those small music boxes I collected as a kid?"

"I do. Esme gave you your first one, right? I don't remember the name of the tune…"

"It was Debussy, 'Claire de Lune.' Anyway, one of my other music boxes played Morning Has Broken. I like the song. And it's a waltz, too."

"I never thought about that. To me, it's always been some old folk music sort of thing my dad used to listen to. I didn't think you could even dance to it, not to mention waltz."

"It's a three-quarter time," Little Green says matter-of-factly, just as the song comes to its end.

He slows down our steps, along with the final piano sounds, and then we stop. He pulls away and, before letting go of my hand, bows down and kisses it. As gentlemanly as the gesture is – he is naked, for crying out loud, and this time I can't hold it in any more. I burst out laughing.

"Did Esme teach you this, too? Kissing a girl's hand while being naked?"

"No, she didn't. I saw it in a movie." He grins at me. "Minus the naked part."

Still laughing, I throw myself into his arms again and pepper his face with little kisses. "I love you. And I loved the dance; it was awesome. Thank you!"

"You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it. And I'm glad you're not mad at me for asking you to stay away. You are not mad, right?"

"Of course not." Way to go, Swan.

But right now? It's true; I'm anything but mad. I'm just happy. The man danced with me, after all. Sometimes, Little Green's level of adorable is almost too much to handle…




I've lost my clothes about an hour ago. Of course, I did. I've stopped wondering why it is that I always end up naked with Little Green, even when there's no sex involved. Or why he is always naked to begin with. It just seems natural with him.

Yes, I said no sex involved. After the dance, and after the kiss on the hand, he slowly peeled my clothes off of me, kissed me on the forehead, and then literally apologized for not jumping my bones. He said his head is not in it. And that was that.

We are on his couch now, sitting cross-legged, face to face, and talking. I look down on myself for a moment, self-conscious about how this unflattering position brings out those little stomach rolls. Maybe I should work on that before I go and by myself a sexy dress.

But mostly I'm looking at Little Green. It's funny how perfectly I had his picture in my mind, and yet I am overwhelmed by how beautiful he is to me. As if I were seeing him for the first time.

He is in chatterbox-mode, talking animatedly about his music, and I have a bit of trouble following. But it doesn't matter that my musically uneducated self doesn't know half of the 'big words' he's unconsciously throwing around. Even if he were reciting the phone book to me, I'd be happy to just sit here and watch him for hours.

Also, he's holding my hand in both of his, covering it whole, as if to keep my fingers warm on a cold winter's day. And the contact, however chaste, makes me feel warm all over indeed, clothes or no clothes.

I still get the gist of what he's saying, though. Apparently, there'll be a part in the concert where he's supposed to play a piano solo, free to improvise quite a lot. Still, there's a certain musical theme he's got to stick to. That's what he's been working on today. And yesterday. And the day before.

"It just keeps running away, you know?"

I don't know, but I nod anyway.

"I had it all worked out before I even came here, months ago. The part where the orchestra comes back in, I don't know... Mateo and I, we both thought my ritardando was perfect. The strings coming in slowly with the main theme, and then building up, but... I don't feel it any more. I want it to be…"

He starts playing with my fingers while fishing for the right word, spreading them and putting them back together, rubbing my knuckles. I can pinpoint the exact moment when his mind starts to drift and the chances of him finishing the sentence are virtually zero. A little push is in order.

"You want it to be what?"

"Different," he says. "Bigger." He lets go of my fingers and throws his hands in the air. "Big!"


"Because I am different now. Bigger somehow than I was when we wrote the piece. I feel more; I feel… bigger feelings. Since I got you back, Bella, I feel bigger."


"Edward," I merely breathe his name, but he doesn't notice anyway. He's on a roll.

"I don't want the other instruments to… trickle back in as if someone forgot… no – as if someone didn't dare to release the brake."

He jumps off the couch and practically leaps for the piano. His fingers dance across the keys, eliciting a few broken chords, casually, as if to re-acquaint himself with the instrument.

"This is how it…" He breaks into a rich series of harmonies.

I stand, too, and step behind him to watch. I try hard to not get distracted by the sight of his firm butt on the piano bench. Or, damn it, by his soft cock lying on the black leather like a piece of jewelry on display. I focus on his hands instead.

His right hand flies up the scales, striking a quick succession of high notes, like strings of white pearls, then slows down, the sounds softer.

"And then the violins go –" Little Green starts singing without words, a soft melody contradicting what his right hands resumes playing, while his left is pressing a single low key, repeatedly, building up tempo once more.

I think it's beautiful.

"That was me, you know," he says, startling me by stopping mid-play. "I kept my foot on the brake all the time, for fear of getting overwhelmed by… everything. People, places, life…"

Twisting his upper body, he looks up at me over his shoulder. "Love."

He smiles, and I'm positively dazzled. "Not anymore, Bella. Now I want to…"

Just like that, he's on the keys again. I recognize the sequence he played before, but this time instead of slowing down, it holds the tempo, growing forceful, building and building. My breathing speeds up along with it as if I'm wired to the music flowing from his fingers.

"Here they come in!" he shouts, and strikes a powerful chord with both hands. "Wham! The full ensemble… crescendo!"

He turns around again, swinging his legs over the bench this time, too, so he faces me fully. Then, he takes my hands, his eyes sparkling.

"I want the orchestra to join me like that. A climax. I want it to be overwhelming now; you know what I mean? A loud, shocking, joyful reunion of all forces at the end of my solo. It will be like returning back to life unexpectedly, after being lost for too long."

"It's powerful," I say breathlessly, meaning it.

"Right? The audience won't know what just hit them. But I cannot spare them the shock. It's just the way it is… overwhelming, painful even. But then we'll get back to the theme, diving right in all together, and everything will make perfect sense. Like coming home. It'll be so much more… moving."

With a moan, he lets his forehead fall to my belly. "I just have to convince Mateo."

"Do you think he will agree to make the change this shortly before the concert?"

I comb my fingers through the short curls in the nape of his neck. He takes a deep breath through his nose and exhales through his mouth, his breath hot on my skin.

"I don't know. He has to. You smell good."

"Uhm, thanks?"

"The guys of the orchestra, they are nice," he says, rubbing his nose on my stomach. "The rehearsals have gone really well so far. They won't make it difficult. And I can do what I want with my solo. The only requirement is that I keep to what we agreed upon when I'm ending it."

"I'm sure they will love this new idea."

He puts his arms around my middle. "Talented."


"The musicians," he clarifies. "It'll be awesome."

He's now rubbing his face against my skin, back and forth, like Lee-Loo when she wants me to refill her bowl. Minus the purr. There's a bit of stubble, and the slight scratch makes me tingle all over.

"They don't even think I'm weird." He lets his hands slide down to my bottom, squeezing my cheeks gently. "Not weirdo-weird, at least, just… artist-weird or something. I'm like, living up to their expectations. I think they like me."

"That's really good." Gosh, I want to kiss him so bad.

"I returned the wrest."

I freeze for a second, fighting the mental whiplash from Little Green's sudden topic change. "You what… the wrest?"

He looks up at me, drawing circles on my belly with his chin. "Yes, I returned it to Aro's the other day. You remember Jazz?"

Wrest? Jazz… Jasper?

"Cheeky guy, funny hair, lots of piercings? I remember."

"That's him. We're friends now… I think. He plays music, too. I invited him to come and play together."

"You did? Edward, that is awesome!"

I'm genuinely surprised, remembering how shy he was with Mr. Volturi's outgoing shop assistant. This is kind of huge.

"How did that happen? What did you talk about? And when will he come?"

Little Green stops rubbing circles on my belly. He also stops squeezing my ass. He goes very still and just… stares.



"I think I changed my mind."

"About what?"

He takes my hands and leans back a little, looking down between our bodies. "I think my head is in it after all."

I follow his gaze and, God yes! I involuntarily lick my lips at the sight of his erection. The sudden rush of desire takes my breath away. When he raises his head again, I can see the same hunger I'm feeling mirrored in his eyes.

"Can we take this to the bed?" I say, pulling him to his feet already.

He takes my face in his hands for a passionate kiss as soon as he's standing, pushing his hips against mine. I'm hyper-aware of his hard-on pressing into my belly, the skin there still sensitive after the stubble treatment. When we come up for air, we're both smiling, our lips still touching in a sort of half-kiss, panting into each other's mouth.

"Now?" he whispers.

I nod my head, and he leads me by the hand to his bedroom like a man on a mission. In there, he turns me around, grabs my upper arms and walks me backwards towards the bed, kissing and nibbling my neck as we go. We both tumble down onto the soft bedding, Edward on top of me. His warm body covers me chest to toes, skin on skin, and it's the best feeling ever. I open my legs, and he slides in between like he belongs there.

"It's been too long," he moans. He's rutting against me, the slide of his cock on my mound slick now with his pre-come. "Can I… what do you need? Fuck, do I…?"

Oh, I totally get this. Sometimes, foreplay is so overrated. As is patience.

"Just get inside," I encourage. "Condoms?"


Bracing himself on one elbow, he stretches for the nightstand, fumbling blindly inside the drawer. I spread my legs further to give him more room to maneuver, and my left foot touches something… furry.

"Edward," I gasp. "The cat!"

I don't know how she can look so unbelievably bored right now, what with her humans going at it right in front of her. It's almost insulting. But there she is, Little Lucy The Unfazed, lying at the foot of the bed, paws curled underneath her belly, eyes half closed, as if to say, 'Are you two done soon? Because I really need my beauty sleep.'

"Shit. Cat." Edward says. Throwing the condom onto the bedding, he scrambles to his feet, grabs Lee-Loo, and carries her to the door. There he squats down and puts her on the floor, right outside the bedroom.

"I'm sorry, but you can't sleep in here right now. You know we don't mean to be rude or anything, right? It's just for a little while."

Come on, seriously?

I guess I'd find this adorable at any other time, but right now I'm all like, shut the damn door and come here.

He stands, his hand on the door handle. "Don't look at me like that, you silly cat."

"Edward, please!"

"Bye, Lee-Loo." The door slams shut.

Then he's back on the bed, the mattress bouncing with the impact of his jump. He crashes his mouth on mine, breathing heavily through his nose. Moaning, I grant his probing tongue access, at the same time patting the bed in search for the condom. I finally find it, and it smoothly transfers from my hand to Edward's without us breaking the kiss. I finally have to push him away; I want him inside me so bad.

"Put it on," I whisper when our lips part.

Little Green sits back on his heels to do just that. He struggles a little with the foil, cursing under his breath. He gets it open on the third try and holds the condom up with a shaking hand, but smiles at me almost triumphantly. He rolls it down his shaft and gives himself a few slow strokes. His smile falters as his eyes leave mine and go straight to the place between my legs. He reaches out and I gasp with pleasure when he circles my clit with his thumb.

"Bella, you're not… not yet…"

"I know, love, it's okay. Just spit on it."

There's no patience left. I want him. And the fact that he doesn't so much as lift a brow at my request turns me on even more.

He just spits into his palm and rubs it around the tip of his latex-covered cock. He spits some more onto his fingers to get my entrance good and wet, too. Then his eyes find mine again, and my stomach is all molten lava and crazy butterflies.

"Yeah?" he breathes, seeking assurance.


I just want him to claim me, to re-assure me that I matter to him. I want to tell him that he can make sweet love to me another time, and that right now I just need him to fuck me into the next week, hard. I want to feel how much he missed me; I want him to tell me with his body how crazy he is about me. I want him wild with desire.

And, thank fuck, wild with desire he is. He pushes into me, all the way in at once, no reluctance, no considerateness. We both cry out. So good, so full…

He doesn't wait either; he starts moving right away, and our moaning and panting and the sound of flesh on flesh fills the room. Our gazes lock.

"Yeah?" he asks again, not a whisper this time.

"Yes!" I cry. "Yes…"

He pauses for the briefest of moments to put my legs on his shoulders, never once looking away. I raise my arms and press my palms flat against the headboard to brace myself against the force of his thrusts. The new angle brings him even deeper inside of me as he resumes snapping his hips at a punishing pace.

Like he's punishing himself for telling me to stay away. Punishing me for agreeing to it without a fight. And I'm taking it willingly, accepting it gladly. I want it all.

"Come for me, love. Give it all to me."

"Yes!" he shouts.

His face goes slack immediately, as if he was just waiting for my command; it happens so quickly. His skin has taken on an enticing rosy color, a flush that extends down to his neck and his chest, and there's fine sheen of sweat covering his body. I'm once more struck by the beautiful sight that is my Little Green.

He squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head against my shoulder. With one last, jerky thrust he spills himself deep inside of me, and I swear I can feel his heartbeat in his cock.

Crescendo. Overwhelming. Coming home.

Just like he said… everything makes perfect sense.

"He plays guitar and bass. Jazz, I mean," Edward says, still panting.

Well, maybe not everything makes perfect sense.

"I love you, Bella."

Aww, better. He's still got his face buried in the hollow between my neck and my shoulder, and he doesn't move an inch, so all I can do is turn my head to press a kiss on his damp hair.

"I love you, Little Green."

A beat.



"Can we let the cat back in now?"

I burst into giggles so suddenly that his softened cock slips right out of me. In my post-fuck high, I just can't help it.

Edward braces himself on his forearms and looks at me incredulously. "You kicked me out," he complains, pouting, which only adds to the hilarity.

"I know," I laugh. "I'm sorry." I am so damn happy.

He grins at me, chuckling a little. I seem to be contagious. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," I say and kiss him. "Everything. You. Me. And yes, we can let the cat back in now."


They say the first chapter after a long hiatus is the hardest. Well, no shit.
It took me several weeks from writing the first paragraph to finally finishing it. Mostly due to self-doubt after such a long absence. But writing got easier and easier underway, and now… it feels really good to be back. I know a lot of readers have given up waiting, understandably so. But I also know, many of you were still excited about the prospect of more Little Green, and there were even new faves and subscriptions trickling in constantly.
Neither my health nor my life circumstances are getting any better, and I'm sick and tired of waiting for improvement on that front. I'm determined to write and create while I still can, and that's that. So yeah, I truly hope you liked this chapter, because I'm ready to continue, and finally, finish this story.

Speaking of writing and creating… after a recent series of wake-up calls, I also decided it's been too long since I recorded some decent music and I felt my time's running out on that front, too. I'm going to make a new album. Turning bits of my fictions into grown-up song lyrics, too. There's a bit of a fundraiser going on for this. Even if you can't or won't donate (which is perfectly fine!), I'd be honored if you would check it out:

gofundme dot com slash bettigefechtalbum

Spread the word. Spread the love.

See you around here for the next chapter, right?

Story rec:
Bag Boy, a sweet and funny thingie by Bornonhalloween, got a honorable mention in the Meet The Mate contest. Need a smile?

Love you guys!
Hugs, Betti