Lestat [7] de Lioncock
Warning: some might find this somewhat offensive. If you are seriously offended when reading about various sexual activities and perhaps, perversions, ya might want to hit back on the browser. If you are not old enough to read or buy porn, stop here.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Edward grumbled under his breath as he clicked to the next slide. To his utter shock and horror, as soon as he clicked, a streak of bright yellow slid across the screen, leading to what he could only describe as a twitching, grinning star hovering in the middle of the page. And it was covering his formulation, a rather intricate and complex chemical structure, one that had taken him a considerable amount of time to construct in ChemDraw [8].
From Edward's standpoint, shimmering and twirling stars had no place whatsoever in any form of scientific presentation. Ever. Yet, there it was. Covering my formulation, he grated.
He spat a long series of incoherent epithets and slurs, almost all of which were directed at his slightly less-bitchy supervisor, Dr. Brandon. He considered her less-bitchy only in the context that rather than studiously poring over his work orders and time charges, she repeatedly peppered him with irritating and irrelevant questions about his friend and professor, Dr. Jasper Whitlock.
Clearly, the woman was besotted with the slob. To Edward's confusion and annoyance, she kept asking inane questions such as his favorite color and food. She even wanted to know what his favorite movie was. As if I'd know that! Edward had wanted to shout. Men did not discuss such topics. While he did have an inkling of Professor Whitlock's movie preference, he doubted that Dr. Brandon wanted to hear that his favorite flick involved jacking dick [9] to a foursome of big-busted hookers and a certain household cleaning appliance. Some women would find that... offensive. And he certainly did not want to be on the receiving end of one of Dr. Brandon's rants were she to be one such woman. Especially since she'd so recently backed off and returned some of his freedoms.
The shrill ring of his office line startled him out of his abstraction. Immediately, he cursed the IT staff, a bumbling group of acne-scarred compu-dorks, who, last year, had made the decision to change out phone systems. The previous system had the most glorious and useful function: MakeSetBusy. Unfortunately, the idiots who designed and installed the current system had not understood the utility in the ability to make it permanently appear as though one's line were in use.
And of course, as his luck would stand, the flashing number and corresponding name on the screen was instantly recognizable. M. A. Brandon.
He debated on whether or not to answer. The woman just did not understand him. At all. In truth, she barely understood the definition of the word 'research', or 'researchers', for that matter. It boggled his mind how she could possess an advanced degree in a field of science and be so completely out of touch and so wrong all the fucking time.
Early on, Dr. Swan had explained that Dr. Brandon had come from Manufacturing, but really? Was it so different an environment? Did Manufacturing employees sit around all day yelling and cutting funds and being bitchy and decorating formal presentations with childish, pre-formed animated designs? It's no wonder that everything went overseas! Edward thought.
Regardless, he'd never had to deal with a supervisor in such a manner. His previous supervisors, more specifically, Dr. Swan, had accepted that he did not need their assistance or direction, and they had left him to his own devices. But this woman? She continually harassed him and wanted to talk to him. Her absurd questioning reminded him of the painful ordeals he'd endured in the one and only course he'd been forced to teach in graduate school. After that debacle, which had included fourteen out of eighteen failure grades, as well as a near-stabbing event, his advisor had smartly reassigned him to pure lab work. Similarly, dealing with Dr. Brandon was an exercise in frustration. She exhausted him.
He did not want to see her or talk to her or interact with her in any way. She made him nervous and fidgety and, in general, just drove him batshit. But as it were, she held his funds for ransom, and he simply could not afford to incur her wrath at this juncture.
"Erm, Cullen?" he stuttered, nearly fumbling the handset.
"Edward! Did you get the presentation I sent?" she chirped.
She fucking chirped, he started. What the fuck?
Sifting through their recent encounters, he'd noted that over the past few weeks, when they spoke, her tone had shifted. She was... less bitchy and perhaps, not quite as loud. Try as he might, he could not grasp what had changed. He briefly wondered if she was undergoing some medical treatment.
"Ah, um, yes?" he replied, as straightened his frames.
"Well?" she intoned.
What does that mean? he panicked. Wha-, what am I supposed to say to that? What does she want?
"Edward? What did you think of the changes I made?" she clarified.
Her query was quite the conundrum. Obviously, her changes were ridiculous, and his professional integrity dictated that he answer forthrightly. He could not fathom putting his name on such a document. But the idea of countering her was... painful, and he suddenly felt as though he were going to blackout. His tie was too tight, and the room was too warm.
Agh! God, what would Bella tell me to do? Nungh-ugh!
"Um, ah, well, they are, eh... intere-," he stammered.
He heard a sigh through the line, effectively cutting him off, followed by her speaking words he did not quite comprehend. "Edward? Just spit it out. It's okay if you don't like what I changed. You can change it back. Those were just suggestions."
His eyes widened in bewilderment. His nose crinkled, and his brow furrowed as he processed her words, trying to make sense of them. Is she setting me up? Agh! She just makes no sense at all! She is fucking bipolar!
"Er, um, I'm not really fond of the animations," he finally spluttered.
"Is that it?" He could almost hear a smirk on her face.
He took a deep breath and gripped the arm of his chair. Hastily, he rushed, "Well, erm, I'm not inclined to use pink font either. Or green. Or lavender. Or yellow. Especially, yellow. You know, yellow is a horrible color for presentations. No one can see it when it is projected.
"Well, unless you project on a black background. But that just never works for presenting spectroscopic data. It gives people headaches, and you can't really distinguish the peaks from any distance. And, you see, the NMR plots are quite essential. So, maybe, um, maybe no yellow?"
For a moment the line was silent, and another wave of nausea nearly emptied his stomach.
Inexplicably, Dr. Brandon chuckled and lightly returned, "Very good, Dr. Cullen. I understand your points and concerns. We can keep this simple and straightforward considering the complexity of the information that you're presenting.
"How about adjusting the slides as you see fit and then sending them back for a final review by Friday? My only request is that you do work on the formatting. Just a touch. Nothing flashy or showy. But make it a little more visually appealing. Some color is a good thing, by the way. Black and white is boring for most.
"Remember, some members of your audience are... not as technically apt as you. You have to grab their attention or they will fall asleep on you."
"Baffle them with bullshit," he muttered under his breath, realizing only too late that he had spoken aloud.
Goddammit, brain filter! he groaned, as he launched into near hyperventilation.
To his astonishment and relief, she just laughed again. "Exactly. Don't forget that Dr. Aro will be at the meeting. Like typical upper management, he likes shiny things."
"Oh," she continued. "And can I get Professor Whitlock's number?"
~O.o~
He'd spent the last four hours finagling and massaging his slides in order to make them more palatable to those who preferred pretty to functional. Or in other words, management. While he understood Dr. Brandon's request and was more than grateful for her unexpectedly indulgent response to his nervous word vomit, he truly could not comprehend how or why management would support him wasting precious time doing such a trivial and unimportant task.
Who the fuck cares if the font is Arial or Times or whateverthefuck? Can't people read? Are they so stupid that they care more about the way it looks versus what it says?
The answer to his question was obvious. Yes. That much was painfully apparent. Over the last several years, he'd observed his co-workers climb the ladder. From his perspective, many of them rose simply due to sycophantic behavior and superior bullshitting skills. He was the rare exception. But then, it was difficult to argue or ignore his impressively amassed collection of publications and patent awards. Not to mention the high esteem in which he was held amongst his community. But indeed, he was the rare exception.
"Cullen!" a too-loud voice called from down the hall.
Having learned that Emmett McCarty was impossible to ignore, he reluctantly looked up from his screen, waiting for what would undoubtedly be another awkward and embarrassing encounter. Emmett always knew exactly which buttons to push. And admittedly, over the last several months, the man had become... tolerable. In truth, besides Jasper, Dr. McCarty was the only other individual that he might describe as a friend. Albeit an unnerving friend.
"Dude, what the fuck is going on?" Emmett shouted as he sauntered into his office. Without invitation, he ungracefully plopped down in the side chair and threw his very large feet on top of Edward's just cleaned desk.
Suppressing a wince of distaste, he returned, "Um, what are you talking about?"
"You haven't heard?" Emmett replied incredulously. His bushy eyebrows did that disconcerting wagging thing he did when he was taunting Edward.
Edward sighed and anxiously scratched the back of his head. "No, Emmett. I have no clue. I don't really participate in office gossip, you know?"
"Fuck, dude. I'm actually not joking with you. You really haven't heard, have you?"
Tilting his head in confusion, he asked, "What are you talking about?"
"Motherfucking Black. You know, that fucker that you don't get along with? Yeah, he started today."
At that moment, Edward experienced what could only be described as an out-of-body experience. And he noisily heaved in the trashcan underneath his desk.
~O.o~
Three hours and fifty-six minutes and nearly half a tube of toothpaste later, he knocked on Bella's door.
He'd spent every minute since his life had essentially cratered that afternoon contemplating what to say to Bella. He was certain, without a doubt, that he was going to lose her. That motherfucking Black had no compunction whatsoever. He had no shame in using his Hawaiian Tropic tan and steroid-induced six-pack to steal whatever and whoever he wanted. Never mind that he was essentially a fraud and not very bright. Women always seemed to disregard such negative traits anyway. Jacob Black was a wolf in a lab coat. And he was, unquestionably, salivating over Bella. He probably changed jobs just so that he could steal her. Jacob fucking Black was that kind of asshole.
Goddamn motherfucking cocksucking mutt, he grumbled, as he considered the legality and jail time associated with various violent acts.
He sighed in despair as he paced the hall. The ring he'd bought and the plans he'd been carefully drafting would be moot, another failure at a life outside of science. And not to mention, he would lose the only woman he ever wanted to fuck again. He would return to his fourteen-hour workdays and his lonely Friday night wanks.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groaned, shaking his head.
"Dr. Cullen?" she purred from the doorway. "Are you planning to stay out there all night? Or were you planning to come in?"
So lost in his internal ramblings, he hadn't even noticed her open the door. As always, she was a fucking goddess. She'd clearly just gotten out of the shower; her dark hair was still wet, deliciously tangled and wild. All she had on was an entirely too short silk robe. The thing barely covered her ass. And the fabric clung to her still wet skin in tantalizing ways.
Instantly, he was mesmerized, stunned speechless and momentarily forgetting his inward desolation.
"Dr. Cullen?" she chuckled. "You can come in, you know. Or, we could just fuck out here. Although, I did have something in mind."
Wait, what? he thought, wrenched from his enthrallment. Fuck out here? Fuck inside? Okay!
Without warning, she grabbed him by the tie and jerked him inside. Her mouth was on his before the door even clicked shut, and her hands instantly went to work on his clothes. In a flurry of limbs and fabric, he was disrobed in mere seconds.
Her undressing skills really are unparalleled, he noted. Her fingers were so deft he decided that she would make an excellent pianist.
To his own surprise, he was fleetingly taken aback by her unexpected and sudden aggression. He'd intended on having at least some conversation about the afternoon's revelations. Did she know? Of course she did. Why didn't she warn me?
And really, all he'd planned for the evening was to have dinner with her, unsure that he had the internal wherewithal for their normal coupling.
"Erm, Bella?" he started.
"Later, Edward. I've had a stressful day. I was given all of two minutes notice that I had a new employee to contend with. I'd like to blow off a little steam if you don't mind."
In very next moment, her robe dropped into a liquid puddle at her feet, leaving her deliciously bare. As in, completely bare, pussy and all! His lips parted into a surprised 'O', and his cock betrayed him, singing, "Fuck Jacob. Let's play!"
And who am I to argue? he shrugged, suddenly more than willing to temporarily postpone the inevitable discussion. Possibly permanently.
Her brow quirked at his expression, clearly entertained. Saying nothing else, she pulled him back toward her bedroom.
Ten minutes later, to his simultaneous alarm and arousal, he found himself neatly and tightly bound with soft, yet sturdy, rope to the rather thick wooden posters of her bed.
The position was rather intriguing. He wasn't comfortable, yet he wasn't uncomfortable. As with everything she did, she was more than adept. His arms were stretched out wide, taut but not painful. He certainly would not be able to move without breaking something. And the same went for his legs. In effect, he was trussed up, completely exposed, and at her mercy.
How very appropriate, he mused wryly.
"Um, Bella?" he asked with a gulp.
"Yes, Dr. Cullen?" she asked with wicked smile as she straddled him and leaned over to position a pillow underneath his head. The cool steel of one of her nipple rings just grazed his lips.
He only managed to contain the whimper at her contact.
"Never mind," he whispered.
This entire situation was quite the change up for them. While she frequently initiated their trysts and was oftentimes more than forward, he usually assumed the lead role. Here, he was taking the back seat, letting her run the show, so to speak, allowing her to take whatever she wanted from him. And it was fucking hot. And it made him feel... desired? His cock jumped and twitched in anticipation.
"Are you sure? Would you like me to untie you?" she asked demurely.
No! he wanted to scream. Fuck me, please! Any way you want!
"No, this is... this is just fine," he breathed, his bright green eyes wide with excitement.
She flashed him a knowing smile and then shimmied down his torso until she was at cock level. Following her motions, he glanced down only to find her looking up at him and licking her lips.
What is it that is so, so... sexy... about her mouth around my cock? Or fuck, just her mouth being near my cock? he considered. Well, clearly it is primarily due to remembered ecstasy from the stupefying orgasms that her particular mouth generates. But there's something more? It's just so goddamned erotic. It's... fuck, if I know.
He really wanted to lift his hips and encourage her along. Patience, Edward, he chastised. She would not tie me up and tease me and leave me... hard. Well, not forever at least.
Some small part of him, the ever-planning analytical part, however, ran through a quick scenario in which she did leave him there for an indeterminate amount of time. He ventured that he could free himself were he of a mind but it would take some time and energy. It was not a pleasant image and highly unlikely, so he quickly discarded it in favor for the present scene at hand.
Slowly, so very slowly, her tongue darted out and licked a long, wet line from the base of his cock to the tip. Concurrently, her nails ran down the tops of his thighs, eliciting sharp hisses of approval.
Involuntarily, he pulled at his restraints and found that his inability to move drastically enhanced the experience. No wonder she comes so hard when I tie her up! he realized. He made a mental note to tie her up more often. Would she like a gag? No, I don't think I would. Hearing her scream is half the enjoyment. But a blindfold? Yes! And perhaps nipple clamps. Not the dangerous ones. Wait, are there non-dangerous nipple clamps?
Noting his reaction, she looked up at him and grinned. "Again?" she asked.
His eyes widened, and he nodded furiously. To his immediate pleasure and satisfaction, her nails dug in once more, harder and taking a longer path, dipping down to the inside of his thighs. And instead of licking, she took him in his entirety into her mouth and began bobbing up and down his length.
Fu-fu-fu, his mind stuttered, barely coherent from the dissimilar sensations of her nails and her tongue and her mouth. And well, and the rope. Let's not forget the rope.
It was a truly excruciatingly pleasurable experience. He wanted to come so badly, but each time he approached, she taunted him by pausing her movements. It was like fine torture. All he could do was loll his head back and clench his teeth.
"Oh, God," he panted when she cupped and massaged his balls. "Bella, I-, fuck, oh my God."
He recognized that his ability to articulate was completely shot; she had literally blown the cognizance out of him. She had reduced him to a swearing, flailing, rambling madman begging to get off.
After what seemed like a century of maniacally fine mouth fuckery, she finally relented. Her lips tightened around his cock, and she sucked him off in long, fast movements. Each time she took him back in, he could feel his head pop as it passed through her lips.
She gripped the base, and her hand mimicked her mouth, creating a delectable, slick tightness and heat. The muscles in his legs and abdomen strained, and his enthusiastic hips bounced off the mattress to meet her. He was so very close! When her teeth lightly scraped along his skin, his body reacted almost immediately.
"Don't... stop, please, Bella... Oh, fuck... now!" he grunted, as he released.
For at least two minutes, all he could do was shake his head and groan. When he finally opened his eyes, he found that she'd slid back up and was straddling his stomach. He could actually feel the wetness between her legs, and the look on her face was unmistakable. She was incredibly turned on.
"Did you enjoy that?" she asked.
"You are kidding me, right?" he huffed. His heartbeat was thundering in his ears, and his lungs felt as though he'd just run a 10k.
"Are you done for the night?" she inquired with a smirk.
I don't fucking think so! he answered silently. In reality, he was distracted by the wetness he felt on his skin. He had the distinct urge to lick her.
"I should say not," he grinned. "But as you can see, I really have no say so in the matter. I'm completely at your whim."
She trailed her forefinger up and down his chest, slightly tugging when she reached his mottled patch of chest hair. She murmured, "My whim, you say?"
"Let me taste you, Bella," he whispered. "Please."
Her nipples hardened, and she inhaled a deep breath. "You want to lick my pussy, Edward?"
His mind flashed a sudden image of her straddling his face.
"Oh, yes," was all he could manage. "Just like this."
A quick moment later, image became reality, and his tongue was furiously attacking her clit.
While the position was terribly appealing visually, it required some amount of skill and effort, more so than usual. Since his hands were otherwise occupied, he had to accomplish the feat of bringing her to orgasm entirely by way of tongue. But she was so aroused he did not doubt that he was up for the challenge. He'd yet to fail in giving her an orgasm. He was too diligent to allow that.
He'd never understood men who refused to give their partners cunnilingus. Maybe they just did not know how to do it properly. There were countless online resources demonstrating, so that seemed to be a rather lazy excuse. Or perhaps their partners were... undesirable there. Edward did not know what to do about that problem and frankly, he did not want to consider it. Regardless, Edward decided that he could lick Bella every day of the week and be perfectly content. The smell and taste of sex and arousal was just dick twitching. And then, too, from his current angle of approach, he had a particularly salacious and not to mention, unobstructed, view of her writhing against his mouth.
She'd gripped the top of the headboard for bracing, and her tits swayed beautifully. Her face was upturned to the ceiling, and a fluent string of curses mixed with his name tumbled from her lips. Taking that as his cue, he sucked on her clit and hummed. What answered him was an almost shriek and buck of her hips. So, eagerly, he did it again. And then a third and fourth time.
"Edward! God, keep doing that!"
He grinned and complied, humming and buzzing away, all the while lapping at her clit.
Within moments, he felt her thighs tightening around his head. It was a somewhat uncomfortable arrangement, and he was grateful that he didn't count claustrophobia as one of his idiosyncrasies. But her body's reaction was worth any discomfort. Her body twisted and shook with violent shudders, and she yelled out his name.
And then she collapsed... on his face. And he didn't know if she had the strength to get up. He hoped so, as there was a risk of suffocation. To his relief, she came to and dismounted.
But what followed was another intriguing change up for them. Rather than pausing or untying him, almost lazily, she slid back down his body, and settled over his re-hardened cock.
Seriously? Again? Yes and yes! his mind trumpeted.
"Slow, okay?" she murmured breathlessly.
Spellbound, he watched her lift herself up and, without pause, plunge back down along his length.
He inhaled in a ragged breath as he felt her pussy walls, still pulsing from her orgasm.
"Mmm-mmm," she mumbled, almost as if she were drunk. "You feel amazing. I want to stay like this."
"Okay," he squeaked.
Slowly, she swiveled her hips in a wide circular motion, lifting and falling. Her hands dropped to his stomach muscles and roamed his sweat-slickened skin.
The pace she set was maddening. His lips parted and strangled groans caught in his throat. Internally, he warred between wanting to never stop this delicious torment and to break his restraints and pound her until they both couldn't see.
New, new, new, new! he repeated in wonder. The delicious torment won out.
Over and over, she slowly fucked him, and all he could do was watch. To both his delight and torture, she palmed her breasts and tugged on her nipples.
I want to do that! he begged. Yet, at the same time, he didn't. This was a new kind of fucking and he liked it.
"God, Edward... don't want... to come... yet... so goddamned... fuck!" she groaned.
Unable to touch or to really move his limbs, he could only lift his hips to meet her downstrokes. Gradually, her rhythm sped, and their hips worked in synchrony. She was so incredibly hot and wet, and the angles she hit were sublime. And the sounds she made! The fact that she was deriving so much enjoyment from his body made him want to cry. She wants me! he squealed.
"Ah, Christ, Bella," he moaned, as he felt the strain in his abdomen building again. "What are you doing to me?"
Moments later, their motions were hotter and more erratic. He panted with each upward thrust of his hips. He felt her muscles begin constricting ever so tightly around his cock, and her cries climbed in volume.
"That's it, Bella... Oh... fuck, I can... feel... you," he gasped, as her thighs shook and trembled.
She slammed down on him, riding out her orgasm in shallower, harder strokes. "Come, goddamnit, Edward!" she wailed.
"Ung, I- shit... oh, fucking... Oh, God, yes!" he garbled.
And as per its usual, his cock gladly complied with her lascivious demand, climaxing considerably longer and harder than he'd anticipated taking into account his earlier orgasm.
He wasn't sure how long he took to regain his sight and sense of feeling. But when he resurfaced, he discovered Bella fumbling to untie him. And then within minutes, they were both asleep, curled up in an exhausted tangle of limbs.
~O.o~
Jacob Black can fucking die, Edward spat.
With a morbid enthusiasm he'd not quite experienced before, Edward imagined all the ways that he could rid himself of Dr. Jacob fucking Black. In fact, ever since the dog's appearance, the man's violent demise was about all that Edward had been imagining. His favorite scenario involved stuffing him into one of the large pilot scale fermenters [10] in the Development wing and then cooking the fucker.
Of course, taking a spatula to his eye also has its merits, he mulled. Then, the fucker would stop looking at her. Or perhaps, a nice piece of glassware up the ass. That would assuredly adjust his cocky saunter.
In some ways, Edward was quite alarmed by the intensity of his hatred, and more so, by the rather horrid things that crossed his mind. But really those things could not be helped. And he really was not inclined to rein himself in. There was a certain satisfaction in visualizing his nemesis's suffering.
The man had been working under the same roof for exactly one month. And every fucking day, Edward quietly tolerated his stupid grins and laughs. He listened to him tell his fucking jokes and he watched him park that overly loud and shiny motorcycle. Does he think he's some Hell's Angel or something? Maybe he could wreck.
And more importantly, each day, that fucking mutt grew bolder, openly flirting with Bella. It was getting to the point that Edward's every waking minute was consumed with worry and fret. And his non-waking, he added, recalling the wretched nightmare of the previous night.
And Edward, being the coward he was, couldn't bear to confront Bella about it. It was one thing in New Orleans when he'd not anticipated having to see Jacob again. It was an entirely different matter having to contend with the possibility that his jealousy might drive her away, and subsequently into his waiting arms. As such, her ring sat idly by, hiding in his drawer, until he could figure out what to do or say.
It was a riddle with no answer. Or rather, answering said riddle carried with it considerable risk. Edward was not a gambler. Statistics taught him that much. So, while inwardly cringing, and outwardly shaking, he played the patient and mature suitor. And he made sure to give Bella more orgasms than she knew what to do with.
And too, he was more than polite with Dr. Black. Despite his true yearnings, he would at least pretend to be the better man.
At precisely ten minutes until two in the afternoon, Edward made his way to the main conference room, intending on stopping by Ms. Hale's cubicle along the way. For some mysterious reason, recently, she had been kinder to him and had agreed to prepare copies of his presentation.
His last presentation, pretty fonts and plumage included, had gone over spectacularly with Dr. Aro, and as such, he had been asked to share the outcome with the department along with his normal status update at the weekly staff meeting.
Normally, he hated these meetings. They always went around the table and each person was expected to provide a cursory overview of their recent progress. It was painful as so much of the work was... subpar and not really that step-out.
The one advantage to this particular meeting was that he always sat close enough to Bella to surreptitiously observe her crossing and uncrossing legs. And of course, she knew exactly what he was doing, so she constantly provoked him by allowing her skirt to ride up. It was a mutual understanding they had.
"Erm, Ms. Hale?" he asked quietly, knocking on her cubicle wall. "Um, hi?"
"Dr. Cullen," she replied. An eyebrow shot up, and she continued, "Copies?"
He scratched the back of his neck and nervously pulled at his tie. "Um, yes, please? Thank you very much."
"Not a problem," she returned politely while reaching for a stack of paper. "So, what do you think about Dr. Black?" she asked.
Her expression was peculiar and very much perplexing. Her motivations were unclear. He did not know if she was setting him up or genuinely asking for his opinion. Not to mention, this conversation was bordering on the despised area of small talk.
He cleared his throat and rubbed the side of his nose, cocking his frames.
"I-, I, um, don't really know what you mean?" he hedged.
Silently, he replied, He's a fucking toolbag deluxe and I hate him. And his science is shit. But he acknowledged that that sentiment might come across as resentful and petulant.
"Oh, I fucking hate that asswipe," she whispered conspiratorially.
YES! he rejoiced. Pay dirt!
"Ah, how so?" he queried calmly, trying to disguise his eagerness.
She smirked, obviously seeing through his poor dissembling. "He's an arrogant prick. And he talks shit about everyone, especially you. To be honest, Dr. Cullen, I think he's after Dr. Swan. I've never seen a researcher make up so many excuses to meet with his supervisor. You probably need to do something about that cocksucker."
What? he nearly screamed. He's meeting with her? Goddamnit! And I've been too fucking cowardly to even ask!
No! No! NO!
He nearly choked on his next words, completely disregarding the fact that he and Bella still kept their relationship quiet. "How often?" he whimpered.
"Daily. In fact, he's in there right now."
And precisely at that moment, Dr. Jacob fucking Black exited Bella's office laughing cheerfully, her following closely behind.
"I see," he breathed as he met her surprised stare with one of near tears.
"Erm, thank you, Ms. Hale," he stated quietly as he took the stack of presentations and turned on his heel, fleeing as quickly as possible.
Despite there only being two minutes remaining until the meeting officially was to start, the conference room was empty. He sank down in one of the far chairs and mindlessly thumbed the papers in front of him.
Fuck, he cursed. That's it. I'm done. I've lost her. I just know it. Has she ever laughed with me? At me, sure. But have I ever made her smile like that? No. Maybe I could just go home? Maybe I can just say I'm not feeling well.
He tossed his lenses on the table with little care. Miserably, he doubled over, elbows on his knees, and dry washed his face.
I'm such an idiot. Why, how did I ever think I could hold on to her? he moaned.
"Dr. Cullen?"
"Go away," he said into his hands.
"Dr. Cullen? Look at me," she said.
"No. Just, no. I don't want to talk right now, okay?" he muttered, refusing to look up.
He just knew that if he looked up, he would see what he didn't want to see. And he was just not ready for that conversation. Not here. Not ever, but definitely not here. It would not be beneficial for his co-workers to see him fall on his knees and beg her not to leave him. That would not be very professional.
She huffed, "Fine. We're talking this evening."
For thirty minutes, he managed to maintain a rather impressive mask of indifference and boredom, looking at the wall, the clock, the mistyped wording in one of the ridiculous company safety posters, anything other than her. What he thought about during this time, he really was not certain. In many ways, he felt as though he were dreaming, only half-listening to the inane drivel of his co-workers touting their recent advances.
"Dr. Black," Bella called out. "How about you share with us your recent formulation."
Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me, Edward snapped, suddenly wrenched into the present. He had seen this formulation, and it was just flat-out wrong. Surely, he wouldn't try to pass off that garbage.
"Yes, thank you, Dr. Swan," he boomed.
Cocksucker.
"Perhaps I can better illustrate this by going to the whiteboard," he continued, rising.
Edward was suddenly very amused, and his despair was briefly shelved. He's seriously going to throw that shit up there. He doesn't have a fucking clue, does he? God, Emmett's shit is better than this! And in Edward's summation, that was something significant.
He watched as Dr. Black made a regular ass out of himself. But oddly enough, no one seemed to notice. He continued, droning on and pointing importantly at the structures he'd drawn - poorly, Edward noted. "As you can see, the bonded pair in this target protein backbone will cleave... here, and this grouping will replace..."
Oh, come on! That's just so wrong. That would never happen. The steric effects would be astronomical. It'd never even have a chance of bonding with your target. This is basic Organic, Jacob. Shit science.
Abruptly, the room went silent, and every single person turned and stared at him disbelievingly
Fuck, he started in realization. I said that out loud.
Panicked, he glanced at Bella only to find her grinning and desperately trying to stifle a laugh. Emmett didn't bother even trying and let out a loud guffaw. Dr. Brandon's tinkling giggle was equally alarming.
"I-erm, please, Dr. Black, go on," he stammered, as he fidgeted with his pen. "Apologies for my, um, outburst."
While embarrassed to no end, some part of him did an internal, elated and jubilant fist pump. Admittedly, he was somewhat concerned with increasingly frequent problems with his brain filter. Comments were slipping out at very inopportune times.
"No, Dr. Cullen. If you have a problem with what I'm proposing, I think you need to be man enough to come up here and voice your opinions."
Edward eyed him warily and fought down a fit of nerves and nausea. While standing up in front of his peers was not pleasant, this subject matter was mere child's play. He could point out the flaws from his seat.
"Ah, erm, very well," he muttered with a grimace, as he hesitantly rose from his chair.
In less than five minutes, he had completely dissected and analyzed Dr. Black's proposed formula, pointing out numerous flaws in his assumptions. In his typical dry, impassive and lecturing tone, he went into excruciating detail. He asked, damn it!
He glanced over at Jacob's face and noted that his normally tan complexion had sallowed. He felt a twinge of... guilt? Ah, I can be the better man. I can throw the dog a bone! Maybe this will make me look like less of a fucking ass.
Edward pursed his lips and stared at the dismantled compound. He tapped his finger to his chin, thinking, trying to piece what little he'd not torn apart with a few new ideas.
"Now, you could... er, if you wanted, replace this grouping... here, with one of these carboxyl groups... not this one... this one. That might address a few of your issues. Oh, and you'll need to shift it down to probably the third carbon position. And maybe use the methyl... here, instead of the diethyl...But you are still going to have to do something with this tail...here. Basic enzyme chemistry will destroy it before you can blink. But that can probably be done. Um, if you want. I might be able to come up with a few other options. Erm, like I said, if you'd like."
Saying nothing more, he quietly walked back to his seat, trying to ignore the expressions of his co-workers.
For a long, very uncomfortable moment, the room was absolutely silent.
"And that, people, is why we pay him the big bucks!" Emmett suddenly roared in a fit of laughter.
Edward's head snapped up in confusion. Emmett just laughed harder and silently mouthed, "Fucking golden, Cullen. Dude, you are the fucking man."
~O.o~
He had no idea as to how Bella would react to his outrageous outburst in the staff meeting. She probably thought him to be a real motherfucking asshole. And in part, she would be correct. In all actuality, he truly had not meant to speak out loud and he was more than mortified by it. That was along the lines of what some graduate school wannabe would do at a chalk talk to try to appear intelligent. Professionals just did not do such things.
Surprisingly, Dr. Black had actually thanked him after the meeting. Though, Edward was certain that it was simply a ploy to make him seem like a team player. But Edward had politely apologized again, citing stress as a factor. That much was perfect truth.
So, he sat on his couch, reliving the experience. Again, he was startled to find that he was quite pleased with himself. It was so out of character and was most definitely the result of his fear of the inevitable curb kick. He frowned, noting that he would probably receive said curb kick in less than an hour. He decided that Bella would be appalled by his behavior and want nothing to do with him.
A quiet knock at the door sent him into near panic. For the first time since he had been seeing her, he did not eagerly open the door. Instead, he paused with his hand on the knob. Miserably, he leaned his forehead against the wood, silently willing her to go away.
"Edward?" she intoned.
Goddamnit. Is she a fucking psychic?
"I hear you thrumming your fingers. Open the door."
Head down, he acquiesced but did not stay for her to come in. He turned and slowly walked into the leaving room, leaving her to follow. He stood nervously in the middle of the room, toeing the rug and flicking his thumbs.
"Edward? What the hell was that?" she demanded as she crossed the room. She stood opposite him with her arms crossed. He didn't need to look up to know that her brow would be creased and her eyes would be flashing in irritation.
"I-, I, well, Bella, it was just wrong. I really, really di-," he stuttered.
"I'm not talking about that, Edward!" she shouted, throwing her arms up in frustration.
Huh? he thought. What the fuck does she mean?
"I'm talking about that godawful look you gave me outside my office and then the fact that you wouldn't speak to me afterward."
He sighed, And here we go. This is it. Gathering what strength he had, he looked up to her glare.
"Because you are leaving me!" he wailed, wringing his hands. "Because I'm losing you!"
She didn't immediately respond. But he noted that her response, or lack thereof, was not what he'd expected. He'd expected her to simply acknowledge the truth at hand and walk away. Instead, she seemed to grow even angrier.
"This shit again? Are you fucking joking, Edward?"
He instantly flinched at her volume. Yelling always made him nervous and Bella yelling was like nails on a chalkboard. His body reflexively wanted to sink to the floor or run.
"But, I saw you laughing with him. And I don't make you laugh. And he is going to fucking steal you. I know it," he stammered, as he raked his fingers through his hair.
She looked up at the ceiling and exhaled loudly. "Edward, when will you accept that I want you. Only you. Not Jacob Black. Not anyone but you. That's it. You. I love you. That's it."
While he wanted desperately to believe her, months of doubt assaulted him.
"Why are you with me?" he moaned. "Bella, I just don't understand!"
Because, really, this was the crux of the matter. He never really had accepted that she could be with him. It just wasn't right or done. It simply did not add up. It violated basic societal norms. He had known that from the onset. She was so far out of his league it was almost comical. She was beautiful and smart and funny and outgoing and always put together. And goddamnit, if he didn't want to fuck her all day long. And he was just... Edward.
Maybe she just really likes getting laid, he wondered. Because he was absolutely a sure thing. For her, at least.
"Is it... is it just the fucking?"
"What?" she asked, her lips parting in surprise. "You think I'm with you just because I like fucking you?"
He palmed his forehead. "Wha-, what if you get tired of me? What if you don't want to fuck me anymore? What then? What else do I have that holds you?"
"Edward, what are you talking about?" she groaned.
His arms flailed wildly, and he sputtered, "Bella, I-, I'm not an idiot. Let's be honest. I'm awkward. I'm pretentious. I'm socially... despairing. I don't fit in anywhere except in my lab."
"And you! You are just... perfect. What the hell can I offer you?" he sighed dismally.
A stinging sensation in his eyes alerted him that he might be close to tears. And that would just not be manly, he determined. Dejectedly, he dropped to the sofa and pretended to dry wash his face so that he could remove any evidence.
"Edward, Edward, what am I going to do with you?" she murmured, lowering to the cushion beside him.
Her hand darted across his obstructed vision and grabbed one of his away.
"You have no idea do you?"
Utterly confused, he just shook his head. This was simply exhausting, he realized. How some people actually liked confrontation was beyond his realm of understanding.
"You think I'm with you because of the sex? And that's it?" she asked with a frown, as she traced his palm.
"Maybe?" he replied honestly, trying to ignore the tickling sensation in his hand.
"What did you do last week?" she asked suddenly. "When I was sick?"
This was just... mind-blowing, and he wanted to scream in aggravation. Where did this come from? he soundlessly wondered. What is this? I don't understand! Women!
"You made me soup."
"Well, yes?" he responded, not really getting her point.
Of course, he made her soup. And homemade at that, pasta and all. Canned soups were simply riddled with sodium and preservatives. He wouldn't feed that to an animal, let alone to the woman of his every fantasy. But what does that have to do with anything!
"And you ran me a bath. And washed my hair. And you brought me probably eighteen different kinds of medicine," she continued with a blinding smile.
"Yes? I don't get your point, Bella. Naturally, I brought you different medications. Too many people try to take a one-size fits-all drug and it works poorly. You needed something for each symptom. I couldn't very well sit around and watch you be ill!"
"The point is, that that is just one example of the way you treat me. The way you treat everyone. You are kind, Edward. You are a good man. Don't you see that?
"Or, what about the science exhibits you put together on weekends for the elementary school kids?"
"But no, I don't give those. I-, no, I just, well, I put them together. That's it," he rushed. "It's not a big deal."
"How much money do you donate to charities each year?" she queried.
"Agh, um, I don't know?" he stammered, trying and failing to keep up with her train of thought.
She smiled again, "And how often do you call your parents? Despite how much you whine about them."
She traced his jaw and said in a low, sincere voice, "Edward, there is a lot more than just fucking that I love about you. You are smart, incredibly so. You're funny, albeit sometimes unintentionally.
"You are kind and compassionate to everyone around you - even Jacob fucking Black. I saw what you did for him today. Yes, you did blow up a little. But didn't you see what else you did? You gave him a new project and even offered to consult! Who does that?
"God, and then you treat me like I'm some fairytale princess, far more than I deserve. Okay, and yes, you are the sexiest fucking man I've ever laid my eyes on. So shoot me if I like fucking the man I'm in love with."
And like that, a light bulb went off in his head. "Really? You honestly love me. As in me?"
"Yes, you silly man," she laughed. "I fucking love you."
"And I'm, um, sexy?"
"Have you not been paying attention when I proposition you? I get wet just looking at you, okay?"
His eyes widened and he noticed a distinct twitch in his boxer shorts. More importantly, however, he noticed that his chest somehow felt fuller, like it had swelled, and he could suddenly breathe. He felt satisfied and wanted. And for the first time since he'd met her, he actually believed that she did love him, perhaps even as much as he loved her. And that was fucking astounding.
A celebration was in order, preferably of the fucking variety. Because Jacob fucking Black was long forgotten.
Isabella Swan was his.
And Edward Cullen is the fucking man! he laughed.
[7] Le sigh. Lestat de Lioncourt, aka The Brat Prince, is the lovable, mischievous, and fuckhot vampire narrator and protagonist in the majority of the novels in Anne Rice's The Vampire Chronicles. The first book, Interview with a Vampire, was first published in 1978.
If you have not read Interview with a Vampire, The Vampire Lestat, Queen of the Damned, and Tale of the Body Thief, get thee to Amazon right fucking now.
Memnoch the Devil, The Vampire Armand, and Merrick were okay and quite readable. Blood and Gold, Blackwood Farm, and The Blood Canticle were… subpar by comparison. I will forgive you for forgoing those last three.
[8] ChemDraw is a supertastic (Yes, see I make words up as I see fit. Seriously, it's allowed.) program, developed by CambridgeSoft, that allows you to rapidly create complex chemical structures. It has some lovely tools and such that name compounds, address molecular structural mechanics, and hindrances, model interactions, etc etc etc. For those saying WTF, it also makes pretty pictures that look like chicken wire that you can copy and paste into presentations to impress people.
[9] While I'd love to claim this phrase as mine, I can't. I heard it, 'jacking dick,' in a rather silly and kinda awful little movie called The Promotion, with John C. Reilly and Seann William Scott.
[10] AHA! Just imagine a large, stainless steel vat, obviously big enough for a body or two, with a cone shaped bottom. They are essentially big crock pots where you "cook" stuff and let things "ferment" for long periods of time. These vessels are commonly used in the manufacturing processes of antibiotics and other such things. Processing-wise, operating conditions vary widely depending on what you are doing.