Incubus, My Ass
Warning: some might could 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.
Professor Jasper Whitlock was a strange man. And on occasion, Edward seriously contemplated the whys and wherefores of their equally strange friendship. In many ways, they were startlingly similar: they were both brilliant, both highly regarded in their chosen fields, were more than slightly introverted, and both possessed an appreciation for classical music and art beyond what would be considered typical. It was not uncommon for them to share rather lengthy and highly entertaining discussions on a variety of topics that most would find less than fascinating. But that never seemed to deter them.
Well, and we talk about porn. In reference to art, of course, Edward admitted to himself with a scrunch of his nose. More Jasper than me. Or not.
While they shared certain commonalities, however, in many respects, they were as different as night from day. As evidenced by their career choices, professionally speaking, they were polar opposites. From Edward's vantage, Professor Whitlock had neither the wherewithal nor the inclination to involve himself in applied research. He was interested in broad-brush science, wide, sweeping areas that would impact mankind only in the distant future. If ever. And he'd always been rather indolent, and he liked having minions to do his work for him. Academia was clearly his preferred route.
Edward, on the other hand, was perfectly suited for life outside the university. Beyond the obvious advantage of not having to deal with the inane goings on of barely mediocre students, Edward was a problem solver by nature. Loose hand waving and pie in the sky intellectual debate sent him into near mental hysterics. Instead, his mind was slated for sorting and dissecting the intricacies and minutiae that evaded most. He liked to think that he preferred to focus on a specific impossibility and by way of detailed study, prove that that impossibility was actually a possibility. That particular phrasing often garnered him odd looks, but he thought it a fairly apropos description of his work. And too, he had to admit that he enjoyed knowing that his research offered immediate or near-term value. But that was really for the marketers to deal with. He liked finding answers. Tangible ones. Not shit-science pseudo-intellectualism.
Of course, Jasper often jokingly accused him of being high-minded and a touch snobbish when it came to research. And truth be told, Edward once admitted, he had a point. It wasn't enough, however, to convince him he was wrong.
On a more personal level, in all things, Edward was fastidious and, perhaps, borderline neurotic. Jasper, on the other hand, was... not. By Edward's standards, Jasper was quite the slovenly individual, complete with unkempt and very greasy hair. Although, Edward could not really fault him the 'unkempt' descriptor as that would be hypocritical in the extreme, especially considering his own permanently disheveled mop. But his was on an entirely different level. It was... poofy, like some bouffant-styled curly helmet that covered his ears and oftentimes his eyes. In fact, sometimes Edward wondered how the man could see to walk - it was downright dangerous. And it was shiny. Edward surmised he spent a small fortune on various pastes and styling products.
Beyond his odd hair fashioning, he sported wrinkled attire that looked to have been purchased at a yard sale, he possessed horrifying dinner habits, and Edward believed that the man often did not wash his hands prior to leaving the men's room. As such, Edward obviously never shook his hand, and fortunately, Professor Whitlock didn't seem to notice.
But then, he didn't seem to notice much of anything other than meteors and stars and whatever the fuck else Astrophysicists called interesting. Well, and pussy. He always noticed pussy. In truth, Edward had noted on multiple occasions that after speaking with an even remotely attractive female, he made off like a flying banshee only to reappear ten minutes later looking slack-jawed and lazy. In addition to being an acknowledged expert in Astrophysics, Jasper Whitlock was clearly a pervert.
Edward sighed, But then who am I to judge? Perhaps we're all like this...
"So, are you going to fucking ask her or what?" he drawled, not bothering to look up from his phone. "I mean, you've got the ring, right?"
On multiple occasions, Edward had suspected that on Jasper's holiest of possessions - his phone - he housed quite the collection of portable pornography. Of course, he had no proof, but Jasper was always looking at the damned thing, and on occasion, his features would stretch into the same lascivious leer that he'd always worn when they'd ventured into certain... clubs as undergraduates. His expression was a mirror of that memory right now.
The idea that he was perusing pictures of nude women and potentially even becoming aroused on his couch was disconcerting to no end. While inwardly he wanted nothing more than to call him down at that very moment, Edward's typical nervous timidity reared its ugly head and his mouth remained glued shut. He did, however, make note to sanitize the leather once he'd gone. That being said, Edward could not prevent a certain twinge of satisfaction and the accompanying smirk knowing just what had occurred over the arm of said couch the night before. Bella was remarkably flexible.
"Erm, what?" Edward replied, having been paying little attention.
He cocked his head to the side as he appraised his living room companion. He noted that Jasper appeared... fuzzy, most likely the effect of the fourth bottle of expensive foreign beer he'd consumed.
"Dude, he asked you when the fuck you are going to finally ask Swan to be your permanent and legal babymaker," Emmett bellowed from behind him.
"Agh, um, what the fuck, Emmett? Christ!" Edward stammered, blanching at Emmett's terminology as his stomach vaulted and somersaulted. "I don't know?"
"Come on, dude, what the fuck are you waiting on? You already practically live together. I mean, don't think I don't see you getting out of the same car in the morning," he chuckled, wagging those fucking rugs for eyebrows.
Edward's own brows shot up of their own accord, and he stared at Emmett in disbelief. Emmett never arrived in time to see them in the parking lot. The man barely made it in by nine. And of course, he left at four, too. Add in the breaks, the chats, the long lunch, and various activities he somehow found to do, Edward doubted he worked more than two hours in a given day. But then, work was a very relative term when it came to Dr. McCarty.
"Fine, Rosie sees you. But you know what I mean," he admitted with a laugh. "What are you dicking around for?"
Theirs was another strange friendship of sorts. Clearly, Edward had nothing in common with Emmett McCarty. The man was loud, brash, overly confident, and he always managed to say the most inappropriate things at exactly the wrong moments - not to mention his extraordinary overuse of the term, 'dude'. He was a walking disaster in the laboratory and possessed virtually zero knowledge of biochemistry, despite the diplomas hanging on his walls. And he still shamelessly taunted Edward over his fondness for vampire literature and... erotica. Though, at least now, he reserved his ribbing for less populated locales and venues.
But he was easily the most well-liked man Edward had ever met. Despite his nearly constant strings of social faux pas, people adored the man. And Edward had to admit, Emmett was amusing, almost to the point of tears when he launched into his rather comedic impersonations of Dr. Black, and for some inexplicable reason, he'd seen fit to take Edward under his proverbial wing.
Hence, their current situation.
At Emmett's proposition, they were bonding, whatever the fuck that meant. Unfairly utilizing the negotiation power of her tits, Bella had encouraged him in this endeavor, citing it social interaction and as such, beneficial. And really, when she resorted to such means, he was entirely powerless to deny her. It was only an afternoon after all. And in comparison to the mind-numbing mouth fucking he'd been rewarded for his acquiescence, it was a very small price. He'd gladly do it again.
At any rate, while he acknowledged that she was far better skilled in dealing with people, he did not have the heart to tell her she was quite definitely wrong, at least when it came to him. For the most part, people were bothersome. With the exception of her. And Jasper. And, well, he supposed he would count Dr. McCarty since he was seemingly trying to be friendly as of late. Beyond that, what else was necessary? And why was it necessary to schedule social events and label them?
Nevertheless, at her behest and bribery, he'd accepted Emmett's suggested bonding over barbequing and pricey bottled beer. Indoors, if that counted. Between the demonic hordes of children running around outside and the astronomically high pollen count, they'd thankfully agreed to remain inside. And too, Emmett had mentioned something about watching some sport game on television.
On more than one occasion, Edward had unfortunately been drawn into Emmett's office, where he learned that Dr. McCarty harbored a rather unhealthy fetish for a local ball club. Each time he ventured through the doorway, he felt claustrophobic. It was like he'd stepped out of the pristine, clear, white halls of his lab wing and into some swirling maelstrom of colors and sports paraphernalia, some reliquary to masculinity.
Dr. McCarty was obsessed with a local team, the Phillies. As a youth, Edward had snorted with laughter when he'd first heard the name, thinking the club had been named for a female horse; it seemed like such an odd and out of place name for a male team playing such a macho sport. But then, his father had argued, explaining that they were instead named for their home city and that they were the Phillies, not the Fillies. That was preposterous, Edward had decided at the time; it made even less sense than his theory. What kind of mascot would a city be anyway? They probably just did not know how to spell, he'd resolved. Eventually, however, after a rather painful and embarrassing incident in his high school lunchroom, he accepted his father's rightness, despite the fact that it was idiocy. Of course, it wasn't as though he knew anything about the sport. Again, not something on his radar.
"Come on, Cullen," Jasper laughed. "Let me guess, your spreadsheet isn't outputting a clear answer?"
Jasper's tone and amusement was perplexing. Of course, that was not the problem. At all. His spreadsheet functioned perfectly well, thank you very much. Edward had known his optimal route for weeks now. He was merely biding his time for the right moment. But since the planning cycle had just started for the next year's budget as well as the performance review cycle, Bella had simply been unavailable for more than a few hours at a time. His arrangement required a weekend.
Huffing in frustration, he stammered, "Um, no. I know exactly what I will do. My results were quite clear. It is simply a matter of when. I want to make sure everything is, um, well, perfect and whatnot. I-, well, I read that women-,"
He paused and tapped his forefinger to his lips in study. "What I mean is, erm, women in general, of course... because really, it's very unfair to generalize an entire population... surely some women would disagree... well, at least I would assume so... Regardless, the text indicated that women in the broad sense place great importance on such events. Um, you know, proposals and such... Which I really can't understand to be honest... because it's merely a question and a corresponding answer... but well, they seem to... Apparently, they tend to discuss these...ah, occurrences at their... whatever the fuck women do together. And, well, I-, erm, simply do not want to disappoint or fall short. It's important to do such things correctly."
He noted that the room was suddenly silent but for raucous clapping in the background, seemingly coming from the speakers. Apparently, Emmett's team had made a point. Or a basket. Or whatever.
Glancing up, he saw both Jasper and Emmett staring at him gape-mouthed and wide-eyed. Yet, neither of them could seem to speak.
Fuck, he muttered under his breath. Fucking broken brain filter! I over-shared, didn't I? Goddamnit.
He nervously flicked his thumbs under their scrutinizing gaze. Finally, unable to withstand the tension, he blurted, "What? What are you looking at?"
Thankfully - for once - Emmett burst into an uncontrollable fit of shaking giggles.
Edward anxiously adjusted his lenses and examined Emmett's unexpected and unexplained response. Yes, the giant motherfucker is giggling. Like a little girl, Edward observed, bewildered at his amusement.
Dr. McCarty's voice was surprisingly high-pitched and wheezy. It reminded Edward of a cat sneezing, but louder and more... disturbing. It had a certain maniacal quality to it. And his face was a discomfiting purplish tint. Edward was at once concerned about his oxygen intake. Purple was a very unnatural color for skin. He hoped that their bonding affair would not be interrupted by a visit by the paramedics, especially considering that Bella was planning to arrive in only a few hours.
As the minutes wore on, he seemed to gather himself, at least to the point he could coherently speak. Between giggles, Emmett blurted, "Edward, dude... you are so fucking whipped. You have a fucking spreadsheet? Why am I not surprised?
"Just ask the damned woman. It's not like she's going to say no. Trust me. I see the way she eye-fucks you in the staff meetings. She just about cleared the table that day you destroyed that fucker, Black."
In his periphery, he noticed that Jasper's lips were twitching, obviously holding back in his own display of amusement.
Edward warned, "Don't start, Jasper. I mean, you are fucking my boss. And her office is covered in flowers and shit that I'd wager a large sum of money arrived by your direction."
Emmett's laughter abruptly silenced. "Wait, what was that?"
~O.o~
After his awkwardly fruitful and encouraging discussion with Dr. McCarty and Professor Whitlock, Edward had made his decision. While he would not ask Bella for her hand this particular evening, he would surprise her with the plans he'd just arranged for the following weekend. Emmett was right. What the fuck am I waiting for? he mused.
While yes, it had been only seven months - of fucking bliss - they were adults, and it was ridiculous to wait for some preconceived notion of appropriate duration of dating before engagement. Bella Swan was the woman for whom he'd been waiting his entire life. She was beautiful, intelligent, confidant, articulate, interesting, alluring to the nth degree, and she wanted him just as desperately as he wanted her. Only an idiot would allow her even the remotest chance of slipping away. And Edward was certainly no idiot. He had papers and numbers to prove that.
Why am I waiting, indeed!
But Edward had thought of everything. After a final tallying of scores and deliberation, he settled on his weekend getaway option. By his approximation and methodology, it was the optimal choice by just over 21%. - although considering the error and somewhat subjective nature of scoring, he rounded down to 20%. Regardless, it was the clear winner by a wide margin, and who was he to argue with statistical analyses?
While they'd traveled into New York more than once for day trips - mostly for her lingerie excursions - they'd yet to stay overnight and they always seemed to be in a rush. This weekend would not be rushed. This would be a spectacular event, one she would likely never forget. He would be her Romeo and her Don Juan in one fell swoop. He would woo her and impress her with his romantic prowess, and then gleefully fuck her senseless in celebration when she said yes. Mostly likely multiple times.
In fact, his cock was already semi-hard just thinking about fucking her in nothing but her ring. And perhaps high heels, he added. Her heels always placed her at such an appealing height in reference to his dick, not to mention what they did to her legs. Yes, the ring and heels.
Proudly, he grinned and clicked the final 'okay' for his last booking.
He had the entire day planned. They would travel into the city after work on Friday and then spend two entire days exploring and enjoying activities that he was certain she would enjoy. And of course, there would be ample time built in for their typical coital exercises. Because weekends were really their playtime, and over the past two weekends, for some unknown reason, she'd been damned near insatiable. Not that Edward minded in the least. She could proposition him eight times per day and he would never deny her. It was almost as if his cock were possessed with regards to her; she called, it came. Literally.
And with that thought came the inevitable images, sending his semi-hard cock into full attention. He shook his head, trying to remove the most recent oh-so-distracting vision of her backed up and splayed against his shower wall and him on his knees with his face buried between her legs. That had been an excellent way to start the morning, launching a virtual bevy of trysts. That particular day had ended with no less than three separate gymnastics-laden adventures... one of which had involved a rather hazardous looking - but in reality, not - paddle and his new favorite accessory: rope. He had no idea how many times she'd orgasmed that day, but it had been approaching double digits. He'd been very pleased with himself at that accomplishment.
Perhaps a repeat is in order, he considered. He hoped she would not be overly tired and would want to fuck when she arrived. Otherwise, self-gratification would be a must.
Trying to ignore the tightness in his pants, he focused on his computer screen. Methodically, he printed and filed their itinerary, confirming each reservation twice.
Amtrak, Acela First Class. Check.
Reservations at the Waldorf. Check.
Private Museum Tour. Check
Appointment at T&Co for Earrings Selection (obviously, to discretely match her ring). Check.
Dinner Reservations at Per Se on Columbus Circle. Check.
Show Tickets. Check.
Pre-arranged Carriage Ride in Central Park. Check.
While he considered it somewhat cliché, in the same article that he had mistakenly referenced in his conversation with Emmett and Jasper, he had read that women enjoyed being swept off of their feet by rather archaic-seeming gestures, and for some inexplicable reason, they had a fondness for horse and carriage rides. That activity had rated quite high on the ranked list of 'romantic gestures' included with the article. This would be his moment. The carriage ride. The moon would be out, the stars would shine, and he would gaze into her eyes and ask for her hand. And she will say yes!, he thought with an enthusiastic fist pump.
Briefly, Edward blanched at the remembrance of horse stench - after all, his hometown was rather rural, so he had been exposed as a youth - but he trusted his research implicitly. Redbook would not steer him astray. After all, Rosalie Hale, an apparent expert in women's studies, had given him the journal for study.
The only remaining task for him was to complete his draft speech. And admittedly, that thought, were he to focus too intently, would launch him into near panic. He still did not know how to ask her. He knew that he would, and that the words, "Will you marry me?" would be involved, but really that was the extent. How can I be expected to place all of my thoughts and feelings into one speech? This is important! he chastised. Far more so than that piddling talk I blubbered through in New Orleans.
But now, at least he had a deadline, and as such, he would complete it come hell or... whateverthefuck the rest of the phrase was. Deadlines were always motivational.
His internal grappling was abruptly interrupted by the familiar sound of his cell phone ringing. He smirked in momentary amusement when he recognized the flamboyant tune - for only Bella had her own ringtone; everyone else had to settle with a boring single ping. Hers was that more than appropriate Presley song from his jewelry store excursion. She had found his joke entertaining once she'd discovered it.
"Dr. Swan?" he greeted with an involuntary smile.
"Hmm, Dr. Cullen," she returned.
"When will you be finished?" he asked anxiously.
It was Saturday evening - hours since Emmett and Jasper had departed - and Bella was annoyingly still at work. As a member of the technical staff, Edward had the fortune to not be involved in the performance reviews and the ranking cycle. Budget planning? Yes, clearly, as he was the one doing the work. But not so much the useless and time-consuming personnel performance reviews.
Of course, on rare occasion, he was asked to provide input into his colleagues' work efforts. This typically involved a few aggravating forms that he had to fill out, which truthfully, did not help his mood and in turn, the people he was assessing. Though, he tried to remain objective. It wasn't his colleagues' fault that the company still worked in the dark ages and used actual paper forms.
And then, too, he had to go through the absurd process of filling out his own goals for the following year as well as citing his previous year's accomplishments. He was constantly amazed that management thought that they could realistically understand and evaluate his technical performance, much less compare his skills against someone working in an entirely different area. Their arrogance was astounding.
But all in all, it was nothing in comparison the mountain of worthless work Bella had to endure. The entire system was terribly inefficient and outdated. There were too many people involved and the politics were simply maddening. Not an activity for Edward. Were he to have her job, he would go berserk.
"Just a few more minutes," she returned. "Do you still want me to come over?"
What a bizarre question! he thought incredulously. Where the fuck did this come from?
"Um, well, yes? Yes!" he nearly shouted through the line.
She sighed, another baffling response, and said simply, "Good. I have some news to share with you."
Edward was confused. She was making no sense at all. Her tone was tired and dejected, not one that he was used to hearing from her at all. He quickly surmised it had to be a result of dealing with upper management and those ludicrous reviews. They, especially Dr. Caius, were known to suck the lifeblood from their employees. They considered it their purpose in life. And they were quite good at their job, Edward had to grant.
"Excellent. I have plans for you, Dr. Swan," he said with a lilt - one that was observably commanding and salacious - that he reserved only for her. It was the same tenor and intonation he happily assumed during their more... adventurous escapades. He'd learned long ago, perhaps during their very first encounter, that this particular tone affected her in the most marvelous of ways. He could imagine her lips dropping and her eyes glazing. And of course, more telling would be the sudden hardness of her nipples and the wetness of her pussy.
A soft gasp came through the receiver, signaling success.
"Are you in your office, Dr. Swan?" he continued.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Alone?"
"Ye-es," she answered with a slight stutter.
"What are you thinking about right now?" he asked softly.
"What do you think I'm thinking about when you ask me like that?"
Her convoluted sentence went straight to his dick, and his free hand immediately dropped to his tightening bulge.
She continued, purring entirely too-seductively for being so far away where he could do nothing about it. "You know what I'm thinking about, Dr. Cullen. I'm thinking about your cock and your mouth. Inside me, on me. I'm thinking about the way you feel when you come inside of me."
"Fuck. I want you," he groaned, his cock fully erect for the second time in the day and stretching painfully against his zipper. "I want to taste you tonight. Please let me."
It'd been exactly three weeks since he'd been able to actually taste her. Not that he minded fucking her without, quite the contrary. He enjoyed fucking her in any way, shape, form, time, place, or pace. But he could not deny that latching his mouth onto her skin and tasting that hint of metallic fluid certainly added to the sensation. Tremendously. It was deviant and erotic and wrong and just mind-bendingly pleasurable. Edward never had determined from where the urge stemmed, but as long as it was mutual, he saw no point in questioning. Dwelling on non-issues was a waste of time and energy.
"Thirty minutes," she breathed. "Just give me thirty minutes and I'll be there."
~O.o~
The moment she stepped through the door, he attacked. For exactly thirty-three minutes, his dick had been erect and wanting. It was not a pleasant experience, but every other thought in his head was of her whispering over the phone. And as such, his lower half had not a chance.
"You're late," he accused playfully as he tugged off her shirt.
While she eagerly complied and her own fingers made deft work of his t-shirt, something about her expression seemed... off, and he was momentarily distracted. She appeared tired and perhaps stressed. This was not a normal expression for Bella. Normally, she took everything in stride and he was the one fretting and anxious. And vomiting.
He paused and eyed her warily. "What is it?
Her features suddenly rearranged, and she smiled as she assured him that it was merely post-work decompression. She hastily explained that Dr. Caius had made a certifiable ass out of himself and had been a pain. While he wasn't quite satisfied with her response, he decided that the best course of action would be to help her forget.
Grinning wickedly, he ran a finger down her bare chest and hooked it beneath the top curve of her very lacy and very translucent ivory bra. Mischievously, he dipped his finger and flicked her nipple, eliciting an immediate low moan.
Languidly, teasingly, he leaned down and licked a long wet line across the top of her shoulder, nipping lightly as he passed over her already pebbling flesh.
"Well, why don't I help you decompress? Perhaps a diversion? Maybe of the physical variety?" he murmured against her skin.
Her response was instantaneous. Her hands darted to his waistband, and in seconds, she had his pants dropped and bunched around his knees.
"I take it that's an acceptable course of action, Dr. Swan?" he chuckled, palming and kneading her breasts through her bra.
"Mmm-hmm," she hummed, already reaching into his boxers. Evidently, Edward decided that he was very good at diversionary tactics as her body was already relaxing. And she hadn't even orgasmed yet!
"Not yet, Dr. Swan," he ordered. "I'm diverting you. Not the other way around. I had the day off after all."
He didn't need to tell her that while he had had the day off, it was by no means not stressful. In reality, it had been far more traumatic than his typical day in the laboratory. Cell cultures did not query him on the subject of matrimony. Nor did they inquire about his sexual aptitude and preferences.
Edward still could not believe some of the tales that Jasper and Emmett had shared. He could not decide whether it was the content itself or just the fact that they'd divulged such intimate details that had him so up in arms. Regardless, he would never be able to look at Dr. Brandon or Ms. Hale in the eye again. Ever. At least not without losing his lunch from embarrassment.
While he knew more than he wanted to know about Dr. Whitlock's less than pure proclivities, he'd had no idea about Dr. McCarty's and Ms. Hale's unique relationship. Apparently, that painted-on cat suit from the Halloween party was not just a costume. It was closer to that of a weekend... uniform. A nervous and nasally 'Humph!' was all he could manage in reply when Emmett had hinted at certain... parties they often attended. It seemed that he and Bella were not the only couple who enjoyed more daring sexual escapades. Edward wondered how many other people he knew lived such varied private lives. Needless to say, Emmett's revelations were eye-opening. They certainly did not look or act the part that he'd seen when he had researched the subject on the internet.
Quickly, he disrobed her and subsequently, shed the remainder of his clothes. In his haste, they'd yet to leave his wide and open foyer, and, as so, she was standing delectably naked with nothing to distract him.
"Stand perfectly still, Dr. Swan," he ordered. "I've been thinking about you all day long. And I want to look at you. You are not to move. Your hands stay right where they are. Do you understand?"
She looked up at him through her lashes and licked her lips. "Ye-yes, Dr. Cullen."
"Very good," Edward murmured as he began a slow circuit around her.
Really, her body was something altogether otherworldly, something remarkable. It belonged on the pages of a lingerie magazine, not standing in his apartment. She was slender, yet supple, with an ass that made his dick twitch. Oh, how he loved sliding his cock along her cheeks! His hands fit just so around her hips, and her tits were simply wank-worthy. Especially when they are in my mouth, he thought, already salivating.
As he walked around behind her, he trailed his fingers along her collarbone, over her shoulder, and then around to the back of her neck, purposefully teasing her skin. Her dark hair was up in a casual ponytail, leaving her neck exposed and entirely too tempting. He had the distinct urge to latch his teeth onto his special spot right then and there.
When he stepped up behind her and pressed his chest against her back, he heard her gasp a soft curse, which, of course, made him even harder. If that were fucking possible! he clamored, bewildered by his body's reactions to her.
But the feel of her hot skin against his cock was just maddening. It took considerable effort to not take her right there. All he wanted was to slide up in her wet pussy and make her tremble. Instead, forcing himself to be patient, he gripped her by the hips and pulled her tighter against him, grinding himself against the upper swell of her ass.
"What do you feel?" he whispered in her ear.
He looked down and saw her breasts jutting out, her ringed-nipples at perfect attention. She leaned her head back against his shoulder and whimpered, "You... Your cock."
"Do you feel how hard I am, Isabella? How aroused I am? How hard you make me?" he purred, pulling her earlobe between his teeth.
"Christ," she moaned. "Touch me. Please, Edward?"
His hands wandered forward off her hips and he palmed her stomach. "Where do you want me to touch you, Isabella? You are going to have to tell me. Tell me what you want... what you need. Tell me and I'll give it to you."
Whatever her response was, it was completely unintelligible. All he heard was a garbled 'please' and a loud moan. His left palm drifted up, cupping underneath her breast. Gently, he tugged at one of her nipple rings.
"Is that what you wanted, baby?"
"More," she breathed, as her head tilted toward him.
Grinning, he brought his other hand up and he tugged at both nipples.
"Ah, God," she groaned, as he released them, only to tug a second time. When he released them again, he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, alternating pinching and pulling.
He bit along the nape of her neck and upper back, careful to not break skin. Yet. "You don't know how beautiful you are like this. I want to make you come so hard tonight."
"Tell me where you want my hands, Bella," he ordered softly, grinding his cock against her ass.
"Edward," she pleaded. "Please."
"No, tell me, Isabella. I want to hear you say it."
She cried out as he pulled on her nipples harder. "Pussy, Edward. God, please. Finger me. Finger fuck me until I come!"
He hummed against her skin, as he dropped one hand down to her clit.
"Let's see if you are wet for me, why don't we?" Edward whispered, dragging two fingers along her slit.
Really, he was extremely impressed with himself. She was absolutely drenching wet, so wet, that he surmised that he could push his cock into her on the first upstroke, no finagling necessary. It was an immense turn-on knowing that she wanted him so terribly. Not to mention quite the ego stroke.
For me, he wanted to laugh in singsong delight. She's wet all for me! She wants to fuck me! And fuck me she shall!
"Fuck, you are wet. You want to come, don't you?" he groaned.
Bella whined, "God, yes, Edward, I want it. I've wanted it all day long."
"You should have told me that over the phone. I would have made you touch yourself right then," he replied as he started slowly circling her clit with his thumb.
His free hand walked up her chest, tracing up the column of her throat. Gently, he gripped her by the jaw, turning her head away to expose that long, pale expanse of her neck and shoulder.
As his circling sped, he slid his fingers between her folds, dipping inside her pussy.
It took far less time than he'd estimated, but within but a few minutes, he could already feel her beginning to shiver. He looked down and saw her hands were clenched in tight fists, obviously fighting the urge to disobey him and touch him. Her breathing was shallow and ragged and came out in soft moans.
"You're close aren't you, baby?" he asked.
"God, yes, so fucking close... Oh... feels so good, Edward... Fu-," she stammered.
He loved hearing her lose it. He loved hearing her curses and screams and breathy pants. Every sound she made went straight south.
"Hold onto me, if you want. Just come. Come hard, Bella. Let me feel your walls grip my fingers."
At his direction, her hands shot up and over her shoulder, grabbing onto the back of his neck. His thumb sped, and he sucked the skin of her neck.
"That's it... Oh, that's it," he moaned, as he felt her body cinching down around his fingers.
"Now, Edward! Ah, God, now, so... so... fuck me," she screamed, as shudders rocked her frame back against his.
"Yes, I will," he smirked, quickly turning her around and lifting her up, catching her off guard.
In two short strides, Edward backed her against the closest wall - one conveniently not populated by paintings and other such potentially dangerous decorations.
Her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands rested loosely on the tops of his shoulders for balance. Quickly, he aligned his tip to her entry and with one swift motion, he pulled her down. She moaned and he groaned in pleasure. Her pussy was still tight, more so than usual, from the intensity of her orgasm. And she was just so fucking wet and hot.
"God, Bella, you feel...Goddamnit, you feel incredible," he exhaled.
Briefly, he wondered if he should have carried her back to the bedroom, or at least to the couch. Or the kitchen table. Or somewhere flat. But before he had a chance to reconsider, she swiveled her hips and dug her nails into his skin.
Against the foyer wall, it shall be! he rejoiced. And after all, vertical coupling was really something at which they were quite masterful.
He grabbed her wrists in one hand and lifted them overhead against the plaster.
"Tell me, Bella," he panted. "You have to tell me exactly what you want. How do you want it? Do you want it hard or gentle? Do you want me fuck you or make love to you?"
She swiveled her hips again and threw her head back. "Hard, Edward. Fuck me hard. Bite me, taste me..."
He squeezed her wrists tightly and maneuvered his other hand under her for better leverage. He was quite fortunate that she was so light and that he'd paid his dues at the gym. Fucking against a wall was no easy task, but gravity was such a helper when it came to depth of penetration. The angles he could manage were really sublime.
"Yes, ma'am," he grunted, as he began moving his hips.
After a few short pumps, he set a hard, fast rhythm, pushing into her with long, forceful strokes. For several long minutes, he bucked his hips, pounding into her with as much strength as he could muster in their positioning. Over and over he slammed into her, causing them both to shake and groan.
At some point, eventually, his arm started to give and he gave up and brought his other hand down for support. Hers dropped and encircled his neck, bringing their bodies even closer together. He could feel the steel of her rings grazing his own nipples.
With each thrust, her back thudded against wall, most likely easily heard by his neighbors. But at that point in time, he could not care any less. All he could think about was the way her muscles stretched and rippled around him. And too, if they couldn't hear the banging walls, the neighbors certainly could hear her screams. He supposed that they were probably used to it by now.
Sweat dripped down and along his temples and their skin was slick. And their breathing was labored and tight. Everything was hot and wet and strained.
"Edward, oh fuck... God, yes! That's...agh... there! Harder!" she squealed as he redoubled his efforts.
"Jesus, Bella," he hissed, as her nails scraped along his overheated skin.
"Bite me, Edward," she commanded through her moans.
Never being the one to be told anything twice, he gladly complied. Edward leaned down as she stretched her neck out for him. Without hesitation, he locked his teeth down on that perfect span of muscles, sucking and licking at her skin.
"Mmm... oh, there. Yes, yes, more," she sighed. "Harder, Edward."
Slowly, he felt the skin give and the subsequent taste of copper and salt. He groaned loudly against her and he sucked while his hips pounded into her. High, keening whimpers escaped his chest as he felt her muscles clenching and gripping his cock, bringing him ever closer. With a hard thrust, he felt her begin to shudder, and she screamed in cadence to his motions.
Heat flooded his abdomen, tightening his muscles. Her fingers pawed frantically at his chest, finally latching on to his upper arms as she screamed one final time. With a few more fast strokes, he felt himself explode inside of her, her quaking muscles milking him to completion.
After a few minutes, he carried her back to his bedroom. En route he grabbed an alcohol pad and band aid from the newest box - they'd learned to be prepared, considering. With a smirk, he noted that these bandages had some strange character from some movie; oddly enough his hair matched his own. After a quick dressing, they collapsed stomach-down onto the bed, side by side, exhausted and spent.
Breathlessly, he panted, "Better? Distracted?"
She turned her head to face him, and he was instantly taken aback by her expression. He saw something he had never witnessed before, and it scared him senseless. There were tears in her eyes.
"Bella!" he stammered, instantly sitting upright and pulling her up as well. "Wha-what? Oh, God. Are you hurt? Did I- Oh, fuck. Did I hurt you?"
She chuckled, but her humor was off, forced. And streams of tears rolled down her cheeks. "No, not at all."
Inside, his mind was shouting in protest and anxiety bubbled up and ballooned, his previous bliss forgotten. He nervously scratched his chin and fidgeted with his wire frames.
Unable to control the welling disquiet, he suddenly blurted a stream of semi-coherent sentences, half speaking to her, half to himself.
"Well, what the fuck is it? Why-why, why are you crying? Agh, fuck. You don't cry. Why are you crying? Oh wha-what do I do?" he cried.
Mostly to himself, he muttered, "Think Edward. Fuck, do you hug her? Do you stay a reasonable distance?"
"I do not know how to do this!" he suddenly moaned, wildly looking around.
"Is it Dr. Caius? Is it work? Is it me? Are you sick? Oh, God, please tell me that's not it!
"But we can fix that. I can fix anything! If it's Caius or fucking Black or whoever, I can fix it. I'll beat the shit out of them... well, okay, probably not. But we'll figure out something.
"You can quit! I have many standing offers. I can easily quit with you, and I will. Yes, my lab is perfect... never mind the funding issue. But I will gladly leave it and start somewhere new. And I can work while you find something else. I promise, whatever it is, we can fix it! That's what I DO, Bella! I fix things. I solve problems! Tell me what to do!"
She lifted her palm and quietly interrupted his wild rambling. "Edward, stop. Calm down. I, well, I have news. I was planning to tell you earlier, but you did too good of a job distracting me."
"I. do. not. understand." He panicked, gritting his teeth and pulling at the bedsheets.
"Edward? I'm pregnant."
At that moment, everything stopped. He looked at her, mouth agape, frozen. It felt like he'd just been punched in the gut, like the wind had just been sucked out of him. The room lurched, suddenly spinning, and his stomach rolled. He thought that he might have been swaying, but he could not be sure, as he was uncertain of his body's whereabouts.
His lips smacked together as he tried to form words, but they just would not seem to come.
Pregnant, he thought. Baby.
A baby! he screamed in terror. Bella's baby. My baby. My baby?
"Mine?" he squeaked.
"Of course, there's been no one else since we met. You know that. I just found out today."
Somewhere in the distance he heard a loud, mangled, high-pitched Nnnngh! After a moment of thought, he recognized that the source of the frightening noise was him. And he realized that he was nearly tearing the sheets apart.
She murmured in what he thought would have normally been a soothing voice, a voice one might use to talk a jumper down from a ledge. "But it's okay, Edward. Calm down. Breathe. Really, it's okay. I don't expect anything. I know this isn't what you wanted."
Bella's baby. My baby. Bella's baby. My baby. Bella's baby. My baby.
While the thought was nearly unfathomable in its horror, there was something else there, too. Something very warm and very unexpected.
Bella's baby. My baby. Our child.
"Marry me," he breathed without thinking, staring straight into her dark and teary eyes.
She gasped and her lips parted into a surprised, 'O'. "No, Edward, I'm not marrying you just because I'm pregnant and you feel obligated. I won't do that to you."
Wait, what was that? he started, crinkling his brows.
She thinks... Oh, fuck!
"No, fuck no! That's not what I mean! I, erm, I-I have a ring!" he nearly shouted as he jumped up off the bed. Her brows climbed in surprise, not understanding.
He darted to the door, only to quickly whip around, completely ignoring his awkward state of undress and resulting flopping appendages.
"Stay! Just, hold on right there. Just-just... stay!" he yelled, waving his arms wildly
In less than thirty seconds, he returned, proudly holding a tiny, velvet box. His eyes shone in excitement as he sat back down across from her and opened the box.
"I-I have this. No, strike that... I've had this for a long time. I-um, I just... didn't know what to say? I was afraid that you would, well, say no... And, erm, then, once I was convinced you might say yes, I couldn't figure out how to ask.
"So, I... agh, did what I always do. I kind of, well,... studied it. And I had this plan and we were supposed to go to New York next weekend. And we were going to stay in a rather opulent suite at the Waldorf. And there was going to be dinner with wine and earrings and a show and, um, a carriage ride. And it was going to be perfect, but, well, I just fucked that up, didn't I?"
"You were planning to ask me anyway?" Bella replied incredulously, pulling the sheet up around her chest.
"Um, yes?" he stammered, suddenly exceptionally nervous.
"I, well, I love you. More than anything ever. And I want to be with you forever. And I want you to be mine forever. And I want you to marry me?"
"But what about the baby? You don't want children."
It was certainly true that they frightened the fuck out of him. Babies were dirty, they smelled, and they could not communicate beyond incessant crying. Before, he'd never considered reproducing, thinking that task beyond his realm of patience and tolerance. But the moment he heard her words, telling him that she was pregnant with his child, not some random stranger's child running amuck in the mall, his opinion shifted. He didn't want children as he knew them. But he wanted her child. His child.
Surely, a couple of their means and intellect would be able to figure out how to rear a child. Edward had no doubt that there would be countless resources available. And he was an MD after all. Not that he used that second degree, but he'd had all the requisite course work. Yes, he and Bella should be more than adept at raising a child together. In fact, he predicted that their child would be remarkably intelligent and most likely beautiful, seeing as how it would inherit her genes.
"I want our baby," he whispered, suddenly filled with some unexplainable emotion.
Without warning, Bella launched herself across the space between them, crashing her lips to his. Between wet, sloppy kisses, he thought he heard her grant her affirmative.
"Yes?" he panted against her upturned lips as he tried to slide the ring on her finger.
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, I will marry you."
That heat that he had felt before blossomed into a full-fledged fire. She was his. Or would be very soon. Forever.
"Now make love to me," she abruptly demanded, palming his bare chest and pushing him down on the mattress.
The air whooshed out of him as his back hit the bed. "Er, what? Ah, um, is that really healthy, Bella? I'll need to check on that first."
"Shut up, Edward. It's not like you knocked me up ten minutes ago. We've fucked multiple times since. And I want you again. I need you inside of me again," she pleaded.
"Ah, um, er, right. Yes, ma'am... Mrs. Cullen," he replied with a broad and somewhat cocky grin.