A/N: Okay, I have finally decided to attempt writing a fanfic. I have wanted to for quite a while now. I have a couple other chapters up, and will update whenever I can. This story takes place after Eclipse, and I'll attempt to stay in-character. Well-- Enjoy!

And the wonderful disclaimer: I do not own anything.

What is it with him? Here is the man that writers from Hemingway's period idolized, mothers long for, and fathers threaten boyfriends to become. He was human once. Do his glands still produce testosterone? Once again, Edward had shifted ever so slightly away from me. It happened every single night. He would be holding me in his arms, cradling my back to his statuesque chest. I would sigh in content, and attempt to worm my way an inch closer while making a happy "Mmm" noise. I would push my hips back towards him, and his body would lock. It was as if he created an impenetrable barrier and I could not get closer to him. It appeared to be his biggest turn off.

"Bella," his voice always said in a deep, husky, yet mildly annoyed tone, "Enough already." To me, it was not enough. It was not even a sample, not even a taste test. Once again, I would sigh, this time with a sense of defeat.

"Enough? I didn't do anything. You didn't do anything. I was simply shifting myself to get comfortable." I tried to "shift" myself. His grasp firmed slightly, and that was my turn on. I knew what the scent of it would do to him, but I did not care. I need some reaction besides another "enough already." He groaned.

"One day, I will do something and both you and I will regret it." Edward muttered into my ear. I tried to suppress a giggle. All I could think of was a variety of things that were not PG-13. Some would not even be rated R. Not one of them would cause me any regret.

I'm an American teenager in the twenty-first century. We see characters reach second base on basic cable. Why can't I get there with my immortal boyfriend of the past two years? I thought. It was so frustrating. That was when it hit me. There were two people who I could ask. Alice could tell me what I can do, and Jasper can tell me why what I was doing did not have any effect. I was so deep in thought with my plans I forgot to respond to Edward.

"Asleep already?" He whispered.

"Just thinking," I replied. Thinking of something that you would not want to know about. I was thinking on how to approach Alice without her developing an urge to play with my wardrobe, and how to ask Jasper about Edward's PG-13 and up feelings.

I feigned sleep as I thought about what Edward and I had done physically. We made out once, maybe twice. The one night I was on top of him while making out, but that was all. I can count how many times I have seen him shirtless on one hand, and he stopped me from being shirtless the one night I attempted to get to second. I do not even remember catching him staring at me with unhidden desire.

Something crossed into my mind. What if, as he was dead and did not make his own blood, he did not have the right blood to, insert awkward pause here, start up his equipment? Could he be refusing to go further because his body cannot?

I had to talk to Alice.

It was planned for me to, once again, spend the night alone in Edward's room. Him and the other males were going out to hunt, Emmett would go for the bear, and Edward would aim for the lion. They had a game between them on who would catch more prey. I spent the evening doing girly things with Alice and Esme, and while Rosalie was there, she did not say much. But it was an improvement from a few weeks ago.

I wanted to ask Alice about a male vampire's physical abilities, but I wanted to alone. Esme was a true maternal figure, and Rosalie would just mock my questioning. She and I were taking small steps to becoming friendly acquaintances, and asking about the sexual abilities of a man she cannot have would probably not aid in the quest.

I tried subtly, perhaps too subtly, to get Alice alone. I was slightly worried she would laugh at my questioning, or tell me bad news. I visualized that conversation. "Well, Bella. Erections are a reaction to allow procreation. Vampires do not procreate, so they do not get erections. When you're one of us, you won't orgasm either."

Most of my brain gathered it was highly unlikely for vampires to be unable to have sex, as I knew three vampire couples; but a small, small part of it worried on that thought. Would it be like senior citizens, who were still in love despite no longer being able to be sexually active?

I could not think of a way to get Alice alone. I was quiet, even for me, as Alice painted my toes and talked to Esme about things she saw in the stock market. Rosalie would respond with guarded jokes about Emmett, and how if the family had more money he would find a way to be at every single football game. I tried to distract myself and asked her what his favorite team was. She laughed, and it was not a mean one.

"I have no idea. I hate football. I find the sight of men leaping onto each other disgusting. I just nod and tune him out the moment he mentions the word "Touchdown!""

I laughed back, as did the other girls.

"Carlisle is not that much of a sports guy. Sometimes I think he is not that fond of baseball. He just plays to appease us." Esme said.

"What?" Alice nearly screeched, capping the nail polish. "He doesn't like to play?"

"Not that much, he just does it because he likes having a united family." Esme replied. I was touched, Alice was silenced, and Rosalie chuckled.

"Well," she said, with a smile, "Now we know why his team loses." All of us laughed. It definitely felt like a good "all girls night." I got to practice my makeup skills by painting Esme's face. I did better than I thought I would. Esme was the perfect combination of friend and mother. I wondered if I could talk to her instead on a vampire's nightlife. She could probably make it a very clean "birds and the bees" conversation. Alice would probably giggle.

Around 11, I retired and went to the room. The thought of the day when I no longer need to sleep skipped through my brain as I trudged up the stairs. I plopped myself on the long couch. While Edward preferred me to use the huge bed, it was just too comfortable. I could not sleep without something stiff supporting my back, be it Edward or the backrest of the couch. I lounged comfortably in the musky scent of him. I heard a crinkle as I shifted positions. I lept off, afraid I had broken something. It would not surprise me as I am the klutz of human society. There was nothing on the cushion. Had I heard something? I pushed aside the cushion, wondering if there was something resting beneath it.

There was something under it, a magazine. Curiosity spiked, and I picked it up to leaf through. My jaw unhinged. It was no catalog or news information. It was pornography. Edward owned porn? No, it must be some joke being planned by Emmett. It sounds like an act the giant male would do.

It was not even everyday porn, the first page had a picture of a woman cuffed to a post and being taken from behind. The bigger the page number was, the more explicit the picture was. Dear god, this was BDSM porn. It should have crept me out. There were ads for collars, cuffs, and whips. Yet, I was fascinated. The more I studied the photos, the warmer and tighter my lower body felt. One page in particular filled me with heat, made my heart race, and my mouth dry.

It had two naked people, one man and one woman. The woman was on her knees, hands tied above her head, blindfolded and held her mouth open. The man was behind her, pulling her hair while pushing himself inside. His mouth was open in a growl. My mouth was dry, but I was quite wet somewhere else.

This could not belong to Edward. He did not like touching my breasts even. He was a straight vanilla bean. Emmett definitely was the source of this magazine.

I shoved the magazine back between the cushions. It did not matter, I would leave it for Edward; maybe it would give him some ideas.

I blamed his Victorian upbringing for his prude behavior. In his time period of humanity, it was taught sex was what married couples do simply so they can have kids. Penis enters vagina once, twice, three times, and it is done. Has he ever even masturbated? The visual flooded my head of Edward touching himself. The images shifts to his hands on himself, and me in front of him back arched and hands bound. I see him covering my breasts with his semen.

I popped out of my daydream. It must have been Emmett's idea of a joke, maybe on both Edward and myself. There was a knock, and I sprung high off the couch, and fell on my rump.

"Bella--" Alice said, "you forgot your cell phone downstairs! I have it." I opened the door and took I from her, while looking at her curiously sunny pixie face.

"You saw something?" I asked. Her grin widened. "I do not want to know, I won't sleep at all if I do." She laughed and I closed the door, settling on the couch and prepared myself for uneasy dreams.

"Do not move, Isabella," Edward told me. It was such a turn on when he used my full name. He ran a feather up and down my stomach. "The more you move, the longer this will take. I will just keep starting over and over, and you will never finish. Don't you want to finish?" The feather skimmed between my breasts. I moaned.

"Please--" I gasped.

"Please what?" He asked. "Go slower?" The feather trailed around my right nipple.

"Please! I want you!" I gasped as Edward's finger followed behind the feather, accented by a scrape of his nail. My back arched towards him, and I pulled at the rope binding my hands to the canopy post. The finger moved slowly downwards, until it was above my sex. He brushed it, but moved to my left thigh. I spread my legs wider and thrust my hips towards him. This was unbearable.

"Damn it Edward!" I cried. The feather and finger stopped. I felt then a nail snap against my clitoris. It hurt, and I moaned louder. It turned me on even more, and another snap caused such an intense pressure.

"What was that?" Edward's voice was clenched. His fingers twisted my clitoris harshly. It felt so good, yet the pain sparked through me.

"I'm sorry, Master!" I said, calling him by his true name, the name I used every night in the bedroom. "Master!" I gasped as the fingers left. The feather once again returned.

"You will be," he said, a smirk forming. He was going to start over from the beginning. I ached and burned inside. I needed to find release.

"Please, sir. Forgive me! Let me do something to earn your mercy." I whimpered.

"Bella? Bella?"

What now?

"Bella, love, wake up." My eyes opened, and I saw I was in Edward's arms. It was the brink of dawn, and he was moving me from the couch to the overly comfortable bed. He held me as if I was a porcelain doll, something that would break if sneezed on. He gently placed me on the mattress, covered me up, and then sat beside me.

"What happened, bad dream?" He took my hand, caressing it with his thumb. His eyes were a light bronze from last night's hunt, tinged with concern.

"Weird dream," I lied, "I was attacked by flying monkeys. I think I need to not watch Wizard of Oz for a bit." I laughed, as did he . I think he bought it. I was never so grateful he could not hear my thoughts than I was at that moment. It was a relief my slip into perversion was safe, but a part of me wondered what would be his reaction to my arousal at the image of him striking my ass with a paddle.

I went home that afternoon with Edward, and we lounged around in a PG rating. Despite being in an engaged couple who had been in a relationship for over a year, Charlie still glared at Edward every time his hand moved. We began a little parent-safe tradition, he was teaching me how to play chess. The others joked I was the only person that can make him play fair, as he could not know when I was planning to bait his bishop or rook. Night came quickly, and I received a kiss on the cheek, a "See ya tomorrow," and a wink.

Edward would be gone for the next two hours, until Charlie fell asleep. I took the chance, and researched the sudden desires enriching my subconscious. I picked the one site where I would get straight words, no porn: Wikipedia.

I was surprised how-- rule abiding BDSM was. All it took was one word, and the game was over. Before the scene would start, the Dom would go over the basics with the sub. He would define his ideas, mention limits, and ask his Sub what she would be able to handle. The two would also mention the length of the scene. I was so enriched in the data, I lost track of time.

A beep made me leap, and my heart race. It was a text from Alice.

Close the website, I can explain later.

What did she see? Edward would be disgusted by this, and I know he can smell my-- physical reactions. I heard another beep.

Don't cry. No need to worry. I can come over--? That calmed me. I texted her back

No, let's just talk tomorrow. I'm fine. Thanks though.

I got up and walked to the bathroom to clean up. I saw my face was flushed in the mirror, and my eyes were glazed. I turned on the cold tap to give myself a quick splash. I felt funny, and not just from the hormones. It was probably the stress.

I heard a snore, and gathered Charlie was asleep. Edward would be sitting in the rocking chair when I got back to my room. Despite the reassurance from Alice, I did not feel confident. I plopped myself on the ground to think. I was 18, and it was perfectly normal for a girl my age to have preferences and fetishes involving men and her sex life. Thinking the word "fetish," just made me feel worse. I must be sick.

I heard a light knock.

"Bella," Edward whispered, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be right out," I replied, even though part of my mind said "No, I am a freak." That part sifted through the photos I saw, how turned on I was at the thought of being tied to a chair, my legs forced open, and how my temperature spiked visualizing Edward biting at my inner thighs--

"Bella--" he said again. I splashed my face one more time and strolled to the door. As I walked through the door frame, I tripped. I literally fell into his arms. That thought made me giggle. He arched an eyebrow, and gave me that glorious crooked grin.

"Fell for me?" He asked with his beautiful voice.

"I thought you couldn't read my mind." I teased. He lifted me and carried me to bed. I sighed a happy sigh, wishing I could be in his arms more often. He set me on the bed and wrapped me in the covers, only to settle down beside me.

"Is something bothering you, love?" His eyes, still gold from last night's dinner, showed concern.

"My stomach was just feeling weird. Probably just a bug." I lied with ease. When did I become so skilled with fallacies? I guess I became so used to saying "it's nothing, I'm fine" last year, it became an automatic reaction.

He pressed a cool hand to my forehead.

"You are warm."

"Compared to you I am," I said, in attempt to ease his mood. His eyes did not react to the joke.

"Warm for you, tomorrow we will talk to Carlisle if you are not feeling any better." Edward's tone implied there would be no more discussion. I sighed, and his eyes hardened. My muscles clenched at the heat from his aggressive stare. I curled my way into him, my head resting under his chin, knowing our contact would ease him, and comfort me physically and emotionally. He rolled me over so my back would be against him, and pulled me into his body. He then started to hum my song. My eyes drooped, but before sleep could claim me, a thought raced through my head.

"Freak."