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Sweet Smoke and Spun Glass	By : Prettyflour Category: Twilight Series > AU/AR > Het > Het Views: 1444 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Twilight is the property of its owner- Stephanie Meyer. I am in no way associated with the owners,creators,or producers of any media franchise. I make no profit from this- this is for fun!

Chapter List
- 1-Sweet Smoke and Spun Glass
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
I have to take a moment to thank the lovey ladies NKubie and kikki7 for their awesome pre-reading and my beta Vintagejgc.
This was supposed to be a O/S but Dreadward and Artella thought you'd like to see some of their missing summer moments. I've got a few I'd like to share. I'll be updating every couple of weeks. Thanks so much for reading!
Sweet Smoke and Spun Glass
Their first time

Over my shoulder light spills through the window in a soft golden glow. It melts into a cool grey and I close my eyes and wait for it. The rain sounds in a slow pitter-patter on the roof, a gentle breeze caresses the bare skin of my arms. I shiver a little and press my hands around a mug of warm tea and turn to face the dim morning light.
It's early and I'm up before everyone else today. It nice having a moment to myself, watching the morning mist roll back toward the beach. I sip my tea and start working again, trying to find my groove in this new project I've started. I stare down at a bin filled with strips of plastic and wonder what the heck I'm going to do with them.
Used water bottles. I've stripped them of labels, cleaned and cut them up. Rings of clear plastic, varying in circumference lay at my fingertips and I pick up a few, bending them into different shapes. When the rain stops I hold one up to the window, the pale yellow of the morning sky streaming through. It reflects and refracts off the material, sending prisms of light scattering around. Tiny rainbows sparkles everywhere, and I decide that whatever I do, it has to include light.
I start working out a plan, the quiet stillness that can only be found at dawn helping me focus. By the time Alice graces me with her presence, I've already created a mold to shape the plastic and I'm trying out my first batch.
She sticks her hand in the bin of cut up plastic and runs her hand through it. "What is all this? Are these... the bottles?"
I laugh nervously. "Yeah, I'm going to make a hanging lamp out of them or a chandelier, I'm not sure which."
She looks over the mold, tapping her chin. "Too bad it's supposed to rain today. No sunshine... I think heat would be good."
I nod, it's a good suggestion but it's supposed to be rainy all week long. I grin when it occurs to me that there is in fact somewhere nice and hot that might be a great place to keep the molds. I thank Alice, slip on my shoes and head to the glass furnace.
Seth is there, standing outside re-arranging some shelves when I approach, toting a wagon with my molds. I explain what I'm doing and ask if I can store my molds inside, preferably near the hot end and he quickly agrees. Smirking he takes the molds from me and I follow him inside.
The sound of The XX puts me at ease, but the sight of Edward makes my pulse race, sending my heart aflutter. He's sitting on a work bench engrossed in his glass. In front of him is a tube that stretches across the length of the bench and it's rolling, controlled by a foot petal. At the end is a piece of bulbous glass that's a mixture of dark blue and white. He reaches down, his hand covered by a thick glove that he dunks in a pail of water that sits by his feet. Then he runs it across the hot-hot glass, kneading and sculpting.
He hasn't looked up since we entered, his eyes fixed on his work and I watch, fascinated at the way the glass moves beneath his hands. It gives way like taffy, slowly forming the subtle contours, and I could be mistaken, but I think he's maybe making a jar or a mug.
"How long are you going to keep these in?" Seth asks and Edward's head snaps up, his expression happily surprised.
I wave at him before answering. "I'm not sure. I figured that I would come back in about an hour and see how they're doing. I've never done this before, so it's going to be a matter of trial and error."
Seth places the molds on a shelf right next to furnace and wipes his brow, the heat on this side of the room intense.
"What are you making?"
I turn to find Edward walking toward us, his work bench abandoned for the moment. His hair is pulled back, a bandanna across his brow, and although he's a little sweaty he looks... sexy. Jesus. I mean, whoa... I've never met a man who affects me like he does. One look and he's totally distracted me. I seriously consider leaning over and licking him. If Seth wasn't standing right next to me, I probably would.
His eyes are on me, his brow furrowed in curiosity, and I suddenly remember that he asked me a question. I explain about the plastic and he nods thoughtfully and gives me a small smile.
"Good to see you wearing shoes today," he says, leaning over and nudging me with his shoulder.
I nudge him back and bite my lip resisting the urge to tell him that I've kept shoes with me at all times since the last time we came here and he had to carry me around.
"Have you considered just making this piece out of glass instead of plastic?" Seth asks and Edward's eyebrows shoot up and he smiles like he's just won the lottery.
The idea is tempting but I have a plan to carry out. "No, the whole idea is to find a use for the water bottles."
Edward's lower lip is sticking out in an adorable pout and I can't help but laugh at him. Seth snorts and winks at me.
"Besides," I nudge Edward again, a little more drawn out this time. "I don't know the first thing about glass. I'd have no idea what I was doing."
I look up at him, hoping like hell he'll take my hint. He looks at Seth and says, "Well then, we'll have to teach her, won't we?"
Except there was no we. Seth conveniently disappeared and it's just Edward and me. He spends the entire morning walking me through the process and at first I'm overwhelmed by all of the foreign terminology. He's using words like gaffer, frit, and marver and I'm kind of lost on the lingo, but I take note of everything. It's so much more complicated than I imagined, but Edward is a phenomenal teacher. I'm guessing he's a bit of a perfectionist based on the detail he goes into, but it's a trait I find endearing. He wears his warm smile when he speaks, beaming with sincere pride and love for his craft. He's show and tell, putting tools in my hands to let me get the feel of them, and he is so patient with me. He engages my every question and I ask lots of questions.
I like what I'm learning, it makes we want to spend time here and not just to be with Edward. I want to do this, I want to learn more and the thought of him teaching me makes my need for him skyrocket. I crave his body on mine, his lips on my skin again. I want his words to inspire me, his hands on mine moving over a scalding masterpiece in the making.
In the afternoon we break for lunch and head to the kitchen. We munch on our sandwiches and chat with our friends. Conversation is light, talking shop, sharing stories and poking fun at Carlisle who fell out of a tree this morning and is now sporting one heck of a shiner.
Esme is holding an ice pack to his face and he's trying to shoo her away but she's having none of it. She presses it oh-so-gently to his face, her blue eyes full of concern.
"Hey," he says in almost a whisper, "I'm okay. It's just a black eye. A battle scar." He winks and takes the pack- holding it in place as he eats.
I catch Edward looking at them too and smiling a little. I wonder if he sees what I see. Does he notice the way they look at each other or the way every touch between them ignites a spark? I wonder how he feels about me, exactly. Does he think about me as much as I think about him? In the two short weeks I've been here, I've seen him every day. Sometimes it's like this- in the company of our friends, here or at the beach bonfires. We've talked, held hands, kissed and touched but... nothing more.
I want him so badly and when he pulls away it drives me crazy. I haven't pushed the issue because I'm not the type of girl who throws herself at a boy. Sex isn't something I do with just anyone, but I want it with him, so much that it's hard to think straight sometimes. I mean... it's not like he lets me go after a heavy make-out session and runs for the door. He holds me, kisses me, and wishes me sweet dreams before he says goodnight. I probably should be thankful that he's such a gentleman, but I can't stop the way I feel, the way I want him like I do. I just get scared that he doesn't feel the same, even though I can feel how I effect him. When we're close and pressed up against each other, there is no doubt that he's turned on. What the hell is making him hold back?
I inhale sharply when his hand slides over my knee. I feel hot all over at his touch.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks, voice low enough for only me to hear.
I look down at my lap and curse my blush, close my eyes and breathe deeply, trying desperately not to shudder when his thumb moves slowly back and forth on my skin.
I give myself a few seconds before responding, trying to think about something else besides his hands on me in other places. "Nothing," I mumble, feeling out of sorts. I give him a small smile and push those smutty thoughts to the back of my mind.
He swallows and pulls his hand away. "You ready to head back?"
Once in the furnace, we put into action what he spent so much time teaching me this morning. We take it slow and steady and I find myself getting distracted from time to time by his arms, his eyes, his everything. I'm making a simple glass ball with little splotches of color throughout. I'm trying to shape it and I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong but it's not quite working.
"You've got to get the lean."
I raise an eyebrow and he smirks before moving to stand behind me. He mirrors my stance, his arms behind mine, our fingers mingling.
"Begin," he murmurs and I grasp the blowtube, letting his hand guide me.
"I love this part," he whispers, our hands rolling the tube, cooling the near-molten glass. He continues to give whispered instructions, encouraging me in a hush. Reaching around me, he grabs a glove and slips it on my right hand and dunks it in water. I hold my breath as my hand touches down- the heat right there, radiating through the glove, but it's not over bearing. He makes me press harder and I squee when the glass shifts and takes the shape of my hand.
Edward chuckles and says, "Now, we lean."
His chest is gently pushing against my back and we lean forward. Suddenly I get it, the weight of my body helps me keep a firm hold, and as weird as it may sound, I can move more freely this way.
But...he's right behind me; I can feel his warm breath on my ear. I feel him against me and I have to work so hard to keep my focus on what I'm doing.
An hour later I stare at my lopsided ball and scowl at it.
"It came out good for your first try," he says, eyes playful, his grin silly.
I roll my eyes, thinking that it probably would have come out a whole lot better if I had been devoting my sole attention to it, rather than daydreaming about Edward for a good portion of the time.
"Maybe I should have Seth teach me," I tease but immediately regret my words.
His face falls, looking hurt and I feel so fucking stupid. I need to explain.
"I didn't mean it like that. It's just so hard to concentrate on this when you're so..." He steps back creating space between us and I don't like it. I hate that I offended him. I touch his bicep then squeeze it, digging my nails in a little to get his full attention. "I wouldn't want anyone else to teach me this. You were so great today, so patient with me; you're a wonderful teacher. I joked about Seth because when you're close to me... when you touch me..." I touch his other arm, run my fingers over the blue-green waves and tell him how I feel. "The only thing I can think about is how much I want you. It's..." I giggle, "Incredibly distracting."
"You think about that a lot?" he asks and gone is the look of hurt replaced by a coy smile. "Is that what you were thinking about at lunch today?"
I might as well tell him. I'm sure my blush has given me away, anyhow. "Mmmm, I was thinking about your arms." I trail my finger around the sea-foam before I lean in and do exactly what I've wanted to do all day.
I trace the curl of a wave with the tip of my tongue and lick him long and slow.
I feel him shudder, taking a shaky breath and pulling me into a kiss. Lips urgent and hands roaming, he holds me close, his mouth insistent, his tongue wicked. I grind on him and he groans into my mouth and grinds right back, pushing hard against me and I fucking love it. I want more.
"I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you," he admits, lips at my neck, kissing, licking, biting and I push closer, wanting him to bite me hard enough that it marks me. "I think about you all the time, think about how it would feel to be inside you."
I whimper at his words, thrilled, elated to hear that he wants me. He kisses my lips soft and languid before he says, "I didn't want to take it too fast or freak you out but fuck, Bella, I've been walking around with a hard on for like two weeks. I can't stop thinking about you either and..." he pauses running a finger down my cheek, past my jaw, down to the swell of my breasts. "I don't want to hold back anymore."
"Then don't."
I'm breathless, worked up and unleashing two weeks' worth of sexual frustration. I don't want either of us holding back. Why should we?
We're both sweaty and panting, a delicious mixture of lust and adrenaline coursing through me. When he kisses me again it's fueled by anticipation. We're both acting needy, a little aggressive as we clutch onto each other.
"Not here," he whispers roughly, breaking our kiss and giving my bottom another firm squeeze before he slides those hands of his up my body until they find my cheeks. "Spend the night with me."
I take his hand lead him out the door.
We're walking really fast, both of us so anxious that we're practically running.
I stumble.
He catches me.
We laugh and kiss for a moment or twelve.
We run the rest of the way.
When we tumble inside, we're laughing and out of breath and near frantic to get into his room. Behind closed doors our clothes seem to disappear, we're in his bed and his hands are everywhere. God, his hands. He touches me like he's working glass, his palms caress and press down, his fingers strong and unyielding as he explores my breasts and thighs before he touches my sex.
Our pace slows, he takes his time sucking on my nipples and kissing me, biting by bottom lip with just enough pressure to make me writhe. Beneath him I feel small and safe, worshipped as he refuses to stop touching me until I lose myself, arching into him, making noises I never thought I could be brave enough to make. Whimpers, moans, I can't help myself, it feels so fucking good that I can't be bothered to be quiet as I come on his fingers.
His lips are on my neck again, hot breath and slick tongue below my ear as his palm presses firmly between my legs. It's so much, almost too much and yet my body wants more. I roll my hips up without even meaning to.
"Yeah?" he asks, smiling into my shoulder. His hand starts moving again. "Right there?"
"Ohhh, yes," I breathe out, feeling wanton, letting pleasure absolutely rule me. He strokes me relentlessly when he finds that spot, the one that makes my toes curl. Slipping a finger inside me, he groans when I clench around him.
He kneels between my thighs watching his fingers move in and out. When he meets my gaze, his eyes are hungry and heavy lidded- predatory as I spread my legs wide, silently begging for more. I can't find it in me to be modest- not with him. I take his touch and I revel in it because damn does it feel good.
"That is... God, Bella, that is hot. You are so beautiful right now. Fucking exquisite riding my fingers."
I push up on my elbows, wanting to see what he's doing to me but I'm absolutely distracted by his cock. He's so hard, thick and long and I want to touch it, taste it. I wanna give as good as I got and I have some catching up to do.
He hisses when I take him in my hand, moans when I start stroking, and lets out a string of curse words when I lick my palm twice, wanting him slippery under my fingers.
I pump him slowly, smiling as his fingers falter, and then he pulls his hands back to brace himself while I touch him. I use both hands to give him this, pick up the pace a little and feel triumphant when he starts thrusting into my hands.
He leans over to kiss me and reaches around to the night stand. He puts a condom in my hand. I don't hesitate to open it up and roll it over him, running my hand up and down his length to make sure it's on properly.
A sweet brush of his lips and he's guiding me onto my back, settling between my legs. Our eyes lock as he slides himself against me and I'm holding my breath. I think he is too.
We moan in unison when he finally takes me, pushing his cock inside me a little at a time. Each thrust harder than the last until we find a rhythm. Smooth and steady I rock my hips up into him.
He takes my hands and pins them to the bed, one on each side of my head. It's not a strong hold, sweeter when he intertwines his fingers with mine, pinkie fingers wrapped around each other's.
Sliding in slow he buries himself, swiveling his hips and hitting a spot that make me gasp. I squeeze his hands and he does it again and again.
We kiss, my lips blindly following his. I grunt and groan, he does too, and this is the best I've ever had. The way he's moving, trying to get me off, again. I've never had such a generous lover.
Foreheads pressed together, breathing hard and deep, inhaling what he exhales, I whine his name, I say please and I don't even know what I'm begging for. Now that we're here and doing what we want, I can't hold back with anything. Noises unbidden spill from lips and it spurs him on.
He moves a little faster, plays with one of my nipples and bites my neck again. Sensations of wild pleasure course through me, I rock against him wanting faster, wanting to come while he's inside me.
"Don't stop," I plead even though he hasn't showed any signs of slowing. With one long thrust, a swivel of hips and his teeth around my nipple, I come. Holy fuck do I come! I'm vocal, the loudest I've ever been and I swear it's involuntary.
I'm gasping for breath every time he pushes into me and it's faster now, he's frenzied, growling into my neck. I wrap my legs around and squeeze him, meeting him thrust for thrust, whispering, "I want to make you come so hard."
His hips jerk, mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut as he makes one last push then stills. I feel him pulse between my legs and I clench again.
"Fuck, yessss." he hisses, "Oh, Bella, Ah...Ah... God, so good."
I stroke his jaw and his neck, kiss his shoulders as he comes down and finally collapses beside me. His strong arms pull me close and his lips land on my temple. We catch our breath; hold each other and he whispers, "Sweet dreams," moments before I drift away.
~O~
The light of morning is soft, rousing me gently. I feel Edward's fingertip gliding up the outside of my thigh and I peek my eyes open. He looks sleepy and sated, naked with ink blazing and I find myself wanting to lick him again.
"Good morning," he says pushing a stray lock of hair from my face.
"Morning," I reply then stretch my arms, reaching for the pale yellow light streaming through the window.
He moves to hover over me, giving me a playful smile.
"What?" I ask, curious to know what's causing his now devilish smirk.
"Did you know that you talk in your sleep?"
My eyes widen, my face now flushed, and I can't remember having any dreams, but all the memories from last night come rushing back.
"I just want to try something," he whispers, dipping low to nibble on my ear lobe. His fingers move from the outside of my thigh to the inside and when he touches my sex, I can't believe how wet I am.
What the hell was I dreaming about?
As if he's reading my mind, he answers, "You said my name."
His smile turns sweet, a bashful look in his eyes. "What else did I say?"
"You asked me to keep teaching you."
"I hope you said yes." I bite my bottom lip, looking into his bright green eyes.
He pauses, fingertips wandering my body and a beautiful smile lights up his face. "How could I say no, when you asked so nicely?"
"Did I say please?" I ask coyly, touching his chest.
He hums and leans in close. "Not when you asked me to teach you," his lips meet mine, our tongues touching tentatively, a fire rushing through my veins. "But you did when you asked me for this."
He slides his hands between my legs and this is the best way to wake up.
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Sweet Smoke and Spun Glass