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Black and White







[the battle drums]

Princess Mononoke Princess Mononoke



Edited 7/20/10 to change a few words.

: Black and White: audreyii_fic: Twilight (Team Jacob): NC-17: Jacob/Bella: Romance, PWP: Explicit sex, BDSM: Jacob gives up phasing and it turns out to be harder than he thought, so Bella helps. A love story. Set in Eclipse AU future.banner courtesy of: I wrote this in four hours. I offer no excuse whatsoever. There's none to give.When she walks into the restaurant, his eyes go to her stockings instantly. She manages to keep a straight face. She's latethe stockings -- they'd gone missing, and when she finally found them under the chest of drawers they'd picked up some dust that stood out against the black nylon and so they'd had to be washed -- but it's worth it. Jared and Kim are munching on bread (this was all Kim's idea, a double-date at arestaurant once in awhile and have some adult conversation, which considering Kim is at home with a six-month-old every day is an understandable desire), and the bottle of wine is already half empty. Bella takes the details in without seeing them, because the only thing she cares about is that Jacob's eyes are dialated and he can't stop staring at her legs, because he knows what stockings mean.The waitress returns and Jacob ordersher.******Kim isn't quite sure what to make of the unusual dynamic between the couple sitting across the table. Bella isn't speaking unless spoken to. Jacob is calm, steady, controlling the conversation, but not joking around at all. And when Jared steals the quickest glance down Bella's blouse (Kim notices, but it doesn't bother her -- after all, Jared's married, not dead, and she's been sosince the baby was born; the last time they tried to have sex she literally fell asleep in the middle) Jacob stares at him so hard that Jared shrinks in his seat. There's no anger, no jealousy, only a simple but clear. It is more effective than if Jacob had reached across the table and punched Jared in the jaw.If Bella is bothered by any of this, Kim can't tell. It's... interesting.Dinner wraps up quickly. Bella walks towards her truck, since they drove separately (Jacob needed to come straight from the garage, he's still wearing his jeans but at least he keeps a button-up shirt in his office for dress-up emergencies like this one, though hell he could make a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts look classy). She reaches for her keys and Jacob shakes his head. No, he says, we'll take the Rabbit.Bella raises an eyebrow. The truck might get towed if we leave it in the parking lot overnight.If that happens I'll pick it up in the morning. Get in the car.She obeys.He drives, of course.******He is not rushed -- he is in control, he isin control, more over himself than her, even. He drives the speed limit to get home. They walk at a normal pace into the house, her not-too-high-but-still-there heels sinking slightly into the soft grass.Bellas into the living room, her heels tapping a rhythm against the hardwood floor. Jacob turns the lock, looks at her for a long moment (lingering on her blouse, she does love her blouse, the only silk she owns because owning silk is a mistake when you're as clumsy as she is, but it whispers against her skin and makes her think of how he sighs into her neck after he's spent). He tells her to take off her clothes.She unbuttons her blouse that she loves and tosses it onto the armchair. She unzips the back of her skirt, slowly, and when he hears the rasp of the metal teeth coming apart a muscle in his jaw twitches, the first flicker of visible restraint she's gotten from him yet that night, and it's gone again almost instantly. She lets the skirt fall to the floor. Steps out of it. Leaves it there. She stands in her black satin bra, her black satin panties, her black stockings, her black not-too-high-but-still-there heels. She does not shrink from his gaze.Her hands go to the back of her bra, but he tells her to leave it on, and she lets go of the clasps. Then he orders her into the bedroom.He still hasn't touched her and that makes her wetter than if he******Jacob tells her to lie back on the bed. He tilts his head to the side as she reclines, observing her detachedly, making quick and firm decisions about what he wants as he unbuttons his shirt and throws it into the corner without paying attention to where it has fallen. (This is how they lose her stockings and other clothes. Bella is forever finding underwear in the strangest places.)She waits for his direction, her breath starting to come faster, her breasts pushing against the restraint of her bra. (She wishes she could take it off -- the underwire is poking her side -- but that is not her decision to make.) Finally, he opens the top drawer of the dresser and pulls out the black tape, the black fabric.You don't get to see, he says. And you don't get to touch.Bella nods (the ache between her legs is so strong that it hurts). I don't get to see. I don't get to touch.Jacob almost ---- smiles.He walks around to the side of the bed and his fingers barely graze her skin as he wraps the tape around her wrists tightly. Then he threads another length of tape between the ties, pulls her arms over her head, binds her to the bars that serve as a headboard. (They got a new bed not that long ago, trading in an old wooden frame for a solid metal one. It was a wise decision.) He takes the black fabric and ties it over her eyes, and the world goes dark.Her other senses compensate almost immediately. She can hear his breath, the rustle of his jeans as he walks. She feels the tiniest breeze against her naked belly (she prickles with gooseflesh). The cotton sheets are soft against her back. Her wrists throb as blood fights to push through her veins. And the springs creak as he climbs into the bed and kneels between her knees, and the unending unimaginable still incomprehensibleof him radiates and warms the sensitive skin of her thighs. She spreads her legs wider and, but he still doesn't touch her, and it is taking a lot of effort not to whimper and wrap a leg around his waist to pull his weight down. He likes it when she does that, she knows he does, but he always punishes her for her assertiveness by making her wait even longer. Some nights that is good. Right now she doesn't want to wait an instant longer than she has to.If Bella wasn't blindfolded, she would see how Jacob looks at her, how his dialated eyes rove every inch of her skin, how his lips silently form the wordover and over and over and over.******There's no foreplay. He hooks his fingers into her panties, pulls them to the side, and pushes into her slowly but firmly. (It doesn't matter how wet or ready she is or that they've been doing this for so many years now -- it still hurts every time, just a little, just for those first few thrusts. The stretching is soand it burns. It might be because he's big, as big as the rest of him is, perfectly proportional; or maybe it's because she's small. She's never been with anyone else, so how would she know? She wonders idly about it sometimes, but at the end of the day it doesn't matter that much. The burning is familiar, and it excites her, an instinctual response to what is about to happen, because the pain means good things are coming.)He waits. She adjusts. And then he starts to fuck her.There's having sex, there's love-making, and there's fucking -- they are all different things with their own strengths and weaknesses. This is fucking, patient and hard. He is completely, entirely in control, and she can't see a thing, hetouch her and shetouch him (she starts to pull at her bindings because the instinct to hold on to him is so strong, but the tape doesn't give an inch), and it feelsJacob, on the other hand, can see everything, and he likes it that way. Her breasts heave against her bra, and he thinks maybe he'll run his hands over them soon but not yet, because right now looking is good enough. The only sensory input his skin is getting is the feeling of sliding in and out of her (tight she's always so), moving slickly, and he wants to go faster but he's not going to do that yet either. It's hard and slow for now. Her hips move a little when he pushes inside her all the way (he remembers the first time he realized that she could take him in like that, that there was room, that he could bury himself in herand she would cling to his shoulders and sigh when he did, it was so many years ago now but still he remembers) and he decides that now he will touch her. He traces his thumb along the line of her stocking, where black nylon meets white skin. All of her lingerie is black, because he likes the contrast. Everything else is shades of gray, butis black and white.He still hasn't taken his jeans off. They're only partially slid down his hips. She feels the denim rubbing against the inside of her thigh, she moves to meet each thrust, he's hitting the right places, she's starting to stumble sharply down the ravine towards her climax.Then he leans over her, placing his hands on either side of her ribs, hovering but not touching (but he can't stop his heat and it strokes her skin in a phantom caress). No, he tells her quietly. You don't come until I tell you to.She nods. I don't come until you tell me to.He speeds up.******He is starting to pound instead of thrust (in out in out in out) and she is on fire, helpless moans coming out of her throat, and she tries to arch up against him but he always pulls away before she makes contact. She doesn't get to touch. All she can do is listen to his breathing and feel the scrape of his jeans against her legs as a counterbalance to the ache in her center.He watches Bella move as the wolf howls at him toThe friction is building inside her and the torture is awful, painful, so perfect. She gasps his name, frustrated almost to the point of tears. She can't come unless he says she can.Jacob's lips brush across her earlobe. SayAnd that is it.He growls low in his throat as he pulls out, grabs her hips, and flips her over onto her stomach. Her wrists get crossed which keeps her from turning all the way, so he leans forward and tears the tape with sharp teeth, freeing her from her bindings, and he wraps a handful of long hair around his fist and pulls her up onto her knees. Then he is inside her again and slamming hard, listening to the wolf,, taking what is, whatto him. The hand not in her hair is holding her thigh and he feels both flesh and nylon under his palm.She is crying out, meeting each thrust with a movement of her own, the whole world dark and still it's not enough, until finally he leans forward (his blazing chest pressing against her cool back) and says, Now. You can comeShe does. Hard.A half second later he is sinking his teeth into her shoulder, groaning against her skin, his whole body shuddering. Then the shuddering slows, lessens into trembles, and he leans forward, pressing her flat into the mattress with his weight. (He's heavy. She doesn't mind.) They breathe together.After a few moments, Jacob raises himself onto his elbows and gently unties the blindfold. Bella blinks a few times, then sighs, leaning her face into the pillows. He covers the bruise on her shoulder with butterfly kisses, the way he always does after he leaves a mark.Feel better? she asks.Mm-hmm, he replies. You okay?She makes a long, affirmative, contented, well-spent noise. He chuckles and nuzzles the back of her neck, first bringing his hands up to unhook her bra and slide the straps from her shoulders, then moving towards her feet to peel off her stockings one at a time, kissing the back of each knee. He pulls her underwear off and finally takes the time to removes his jeans. Then Jacob pulls a thoroughly naked Bella against his body and relaxes into her, the wolf quieted.And they both sleep well.***