Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight, but I call dibs on Titlight!
An extra special thanks to my amazing Beta-extraordinaire; Nana Bobobo.
An even bigger hug goes out to Fr333Bird, for her support and for setting me on the road to actually posting.
Now, on with the story; Edward wants to meet you, and he's not very patient today...
He was the man. Oh, yeah… Edward Cullen was the man.
Standing in front of the mirror, Edward nodded, satisfied with what he saw. He presented a long trim body, carefully sculpted. He boasted strong thighs, the powerful muscles ready for pumping. He made ladies cream with his six-pack abs accessorized with just the right amount of pecs. He was da shit.
Turning sideways he assumed standard blow-job stance, watching his biceps play as his hands came to rest on his hips. From this angle, you could just catch of glimpse of his toned ass. Thrusting a couple of times at nothing, he watched his semi flop around. Oh yeah. Bring it on baby.
Cupping his balls, Edward flexed his knees a bit at the feeling, stifling a grunt. Fuck he was ready. Slowly rolling the loose sack around, he could still feel the ache. Blood was already starting to pool, making his dick longer, more substantial. God, it hurt so good. Giving himself a squeeze, Edward turned from the mirror. He had to get dressed. Or he was going to be late.
And he didn't want to be late.
More than just his usual punctuality, which his agent Rose called anal, Edward was ready to pound some juicy pussy. It was already an effort to keep the erection at bay. Tearing open the new underwear package, Edward sighed again. God he was horny. He was actually looking forward to work, which was unusual.
The stretchy black fabric clung to his junk, making a satisfying bulge. It was one of the things Edward had learned. Some of the smaller shoots didn't always have much budget for wardrobe. What cash they had was used to hire the trendy double D's of the hour, and having them fucked by him. The Fabulous Headward... Porn King Extraordinaire.
Edward liked to be prepared, to have a plan; he didn't like the unexpected. He still felt flustered thinking about that first time when a fat and sweaty director had told him that whatever undies he had on was fine. He'd had a momentary panic thinking of his holey faded grey boxers, before inspiration struck. A short visit to the bathroom later and the fact that he went commando only added to his budding reputation. He was a sex god.
And he was soooo ready to make that girl scream. Bella. Hell yeah. Recklessly navigating through just-as-fast traffic, Edward kept his cock under firm control. If he allowed himself to daydream, then he slipped back into last night's images, and he became raging hard. What a waste, all alone in his car.
So Edward tried to close his mental door on the images that felt branded into his brain, stuffing all the horniness into a tight box before he unleashed it on set.
Later, Edward promised his barely subdued cock with another fondle. Soon... Soon he would be buried balls deep and pounding . Pounding with another dude watching.
Fuuuuccckk! Not helping. He felt his dick pulse firmly, betraying his arousal. Edward actually had to spend a moment concentrating before he was able to drag his comforting hand away. Fuck, his cock was like a magnet when it was so needy.
Lighting a cigarette to keep his traitorous fingers occupied, he made himself stop tapping his foot impatiently on the Volvo floor. Damn red lights. Couldn't someone just time the things so he could catch all green and sail into the studio and start fucking already?
[HCHCHCHCHCHCHCHCHC]
This was bad.
He should have jerked off before he left.
Or yesterday even.
Edward didn't normally go to shoots with such a bad case of blue balls. It was a rookie mistake, risking being unable to fuck as demanded for fear of blowing. It was the sign of a professional to be able to walk in, sufficiently prepped to give a good performance ending with the perfect money-shot. Edward was experienced. He had a reputation to maintain. He was the fucking Headward for god's sakes.
He had his routine down pat after the last few years. Usually, Edward went without cumming for about a week before a shoot, if timetables allowed. The night before, he surfed the web a bit, getting good and ready.
Except last night he encountered a problem and his preparations had gotten out of hand. Or rather much too in hand.
He had stumbled onto something he had NOT expected. It had thrown him off balance, and Edward didn't like that. He was STILL raging angry, the need to shout his fury twisting together with the lust into a lethal mix. He felt volatile, reckless.
Part of that frustration was with himself, for not being able to stop watching. He should have just clicked that stupid browser off. But no, he'd watched the whole thing, trembling in disgust and desire. Then, like an addict, he'd searched for more. Pushing his limits, yet getting so fucking hard in the process, he'd hardly stroked; just the occasional satisfying pump when it became unbearable. Instead, sweating, he'd pulsed and throbbed and contented himself with a light teasing finger tracing his oversensitive cock-head, or a thumb swiping into the pre-cum leaking everywhere.
God, he'd been like a faucet, he'd been on edge for so long. There were a few critical moments when he'd actually had to focus on not releasing, without ANY touch at all, never mind actual jacking. He hadn't been in danger of spontaneous eruptions like that since he'd been a seventeen-year-old! Fuck, it was ridiculous.
At least he'd managed to hold his load. Rosalie would have had his head if he'd messed up his signature jizz shot!
Except now, with his dick trying to tear through his motherfucking jeans as he double-parked in an area marked handicapped, he was second-guessing himself.
This was no good.
Edward could feel his world starting to tilt off axis. He growled in frustration, but deep down he was scared. He was nearing one of those existential moments, when all you were, changed. He didn't like it one bit, that discovery looming ominously over his head.
He was trembling, as he took long strides towards the studio; he didn't fucking know if it was nerves or lust. Squaring his shoulders and reciting his mantra- He was Headward, The King of Pussy! This was his kingdom! - Edward opened the door marked Titlight, Closed Set and entered.
A thank you also goes out to McGee42 and Torisurfergirl of Project Team Beta for their effort. Please don't hold them responsible for the (lack of) commas and sentence splices. That would be Edward's fault, for being blunt and moderately incoherent when he's in freak-out mode, then refusing to repent...