Scoot(er) Down the Aisle If Need Be

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.

A/N: this was originally written as a birthday treat for Scooterstale, a wonderful friend who I met through the fandom many years ago. Way back when, she used to beta all my stuff, too :)

"Son of a… fucking… goddamned ridiculous… Agh!" Edward rambled at the mirror, throwing his hands up in aggravation, thoroughly incensed with the length of his tie. The thing just would not hang correctly. No matter what he tried – Windsor, half-Windsor, Pratt, fucking fisherman's knot – it was either too long or too short, and the knot would not pucker appropriately. The whole situation was inordinately vexing, especially considering the fact that he tied ties no different than this one – although slightly less expensive variants – every damned day. Of course today would be different! he screamed silently. It was imperative that he rectify this debacle within no more than five minutes. Being late was simply inexcusable and unacceptable.

"Dr. Cullen?"

Edward pushed his lenses up, glared at his reflection, and furiously attacked the godforsaken fabric again. When it twisted in his hands, he growled, "Fucking-idiot-piece-of-shit-silk!"

"Dr. Cullen?"

Too long! "Goddamn-you-to-hell-Giorgio-fucking-Armani-whoeverthefuck-you-are!"

"Edward!"

At the sound of his name, Edward looked up, startled, only to find a smirking and very pregnant Bella staring at him from the doorway, one hand on her hip and the other resting against the doorframe. No doubt, his eyes were as wide as dinner plates, both from the unexpected interruption, as well as from the sight of Bella herself.

His fiancée – and very soon to be wife! – was fucking ravishing, and he immediately wanted to express just how much he thought so by ravishing her. In point of fact, a stab of heated want went straight down the middle of his abdomen to his balls. Surely we have time! he thought naughtily.

"Having trouble there, Dr. Cullen?" Bella purred, already walking toward him. "Would you like some assistance? I'd have figured you to be an expert knot tier by now… Or maybe you need a lesson?"

In a single, astonishingly lithe move, especially considering the roundness of her mid-section, she wrapped the too-long tale of his tie around her hand and jerked him forward. In her heels, Bella was just tall enough for him to not have to bend down to capture her mouth. When he attempted, she pulled back only far enough to prevent his assault. Surprised by her retreat, his lips parted and he whimpered his disapproval. Chuckling, her smiling lips leaned in and then feathered across his, barely making contact, but it was more than enough for that heated stab to turn into something altogether more substantial. Literally.

"Eh-eh," she chastised, playfully batting his hand away when he reached down to untie the bow that held her dress together. "Not yet. We'll be late."

"Agh, God. You are trying to kill me, aren't you?" Edward groaned, pressing the length of his straining cock against her thigh. Between brushing kisses, he lamented further, "And no fair teasing me about my knot expertise – or lack thereof today – and not allowing me to demonstrate my prowess on you. I would really like to put this piece of shit tie to better use. Like… around your wrists, Dr. Swan."

"Who's trying to kill whom today, Edward?" Bella murmured, backing away and eying him up and down. Loosening his pitiful attempt at a knot, she busied herself with adjusting and re-tying. "You look like sex on legs in that suit. The color, the cut… perfect. It fits you… God, I want to fuck you tonight. In the suit."

While her words were certainly ego-enhancing, Edward scoffed, purely disbelieving. Obviously, he knew that he had a rather profound effect on her physically, not to mention in the more important realms of emotion and love. But really! She was being preposterous. His attire was no different than his normal work uniform of trousers, oxford, jacket, and tie. Of course, he usually didn't wear solid black – even Edward knew that in polite society, black should really only be worn to formal events and funerals – and his typical suit cost only half to two-thirds of what this one had run, depending on the color and fabric choice. But Dr. Brandon had taken him aside the previous week and had insisted on something 'special' as she had deemed it, citing that the hefty price tag was the accepted cost of perfection. She'd gone on, cooing and slathering praise on this Armani individual until finally he'd agreed. Admittedly, the fabric was fine and the entire get up had been tailored quite well, perhaps even better than his usual custom-tailored suits – not that it mattered so much to him. But it wasn't that good. Edward surmised that this Armani fellow was simply a genius marketer.

Bella, on the other hand, she was undeniably and entrancingly perfect. Smartly, she'd chosen another one of those dresses that tied at the side, a 'wrap dress' he had learned. But this was one was ethereal almost in the way the cream-colored silk floated along her curves, darting in and hugging all the right places. Hidden beneath the hem of the fabric, could see a sliver of the outline of his teeth on her shoulder. Looking down, her deliciously swollen and rounded cleavage was a dick wanking wonderland, perfect for… fucking. With his dick. Fuck, he gulped. He wondered if she'd mind. Likely not. Bella was usually – no, always – game for anything that involved orgasms.

And God, she was wearing thigh highs, he was certain of it. And as if to intentionally fuel his lascivious thoughts, from the looks of it, there was little else underneath the skirt of her dress. Edward concluded that he was indeed a very lucky man.

"Be serious, Dr. Swan," he snorted. Gripping her on either side of her hips, he pulled her back toward him and reached around to palm her ass. In an only half-teasing tone, he whined, sliding his cock against her thigh again, "Do you feel that? You look like something out of a dream… so beautiful. I can't decide if I want to worship at your feet or fuck you into oblivion. I don't want to hear anything – you are the one causing male hyper-erection disorder. I'm going to be in pain throughout the entire ceremony now thanks to you. When the magistrate permits me to kiss you, my cock will likely react against my direction and try to hump your leg. And that will be very embarrassing for us both. You should let me fuck you now to prevent such a fiasco."

"Making up physiological disorders won't help you get laid, Dr. Cullen," she laughed, grinding her thigh against him. With a wink, she teased, "And maybe I want you to hump my leg. Maybe I'm a closeted exhibitionist who thrills off public dry humps."

"Cocktease," he accused, narrowing his eyes.

Her brow arched sharply and she threw her head back in a true fit of laughter. Still giggling, Bella rejoined, "For now. But considering we just fucked this morning, I don't believe that's a fair accusation."

"Fine," he pouted, glaring at the now-perfect knot of scarlet silk at the base of his throat.

His mind flashed back to the episode she'd recalled. This morning had been a very good morning, sex-wise – like many mornings as of late actually. He'd awoken to the divine sensation of a tight mouth clamped around his morning hard-on, sucking him off with abandon. Never one to question a freely given session of mouth fucking, he'd orgasmed within minutes, and after but a few more, once his cock had recovered – an apparently miraculous side effect of regularly fucking a succubus – had flipped her on all fours and pounded her until she came so hard that said naughty, now-grinding thighs shook and buckled. Yes, a very good morning, indeed! Edward ventured that if all mornings started on such a high note that even Mondays would be pleasant.

Dropping his mouth to her neck, Edward whispered against her skin, "But I will take you tonight. Long and hard. Be prepared not to sleep much at all."

Adjusting the lapels of his jacket, Bella closed her eyes and hummed appreciatively, "I'll mark that down as a promise. In the suit."

Edward grinned and smacked her ass playfully. "Fine. I'll fuck you long and hard in this ridiculously expensive suit. But only if you wear nothing."

Bella's eyes opened and gleamed impishly. "Deal. Now get your ass in the car. I want to marry you."

~O.o~

For the eighth time in less than an hour, Edward's stomach rolled. Grateful that he'd opted to forego lunch, instead of focusing on the uncomfortable churn of his abdomen, he stared at the bizarre floral pattern of the wallpaper, trying to follow the swirl of the late seventies design. While better than nothing, the visual likely did not help with the nausea. Interior designers of that decade had to have been drug addicts, he decided. The attractiveness and meaning behind embedded smiley faces in flower centers – daisies from the looks of it – was beyond the comprehension of a rational mind.

Fervently, he hoped that Bella would remain in the lavatory until the ceremony. Or at least, if she returned early, he hoped that she would not notice his quivering knees and excessive hair tugging. Because in reality, his anxiety had nothing to do with their decision to marry. That was easy, done, and sealed. Nothing in heaven, hell, or the state of New Jersey could deter him with regards to their state of matrimony. Edward ventured that he would do virtually anything to make certain that event occur.

But he was anxious, incredibly so, simply because this was the day, the most important day of his entire life – subject to his daughter's delivery date, of course – and he was scared shitless of fucking it up in some way, shape, or form. Like throwing up mid vows. Or passing out. Or developing a spontaneous erection due to the ridiculously distracting view he had of Bella's legs. Worrying and vomiting was simply his shtick. And admittedly, the knowledge that his parents would be in attendance did nothing to still his nerves.

Initially, he'd suggested that they tell his parents after the fact, but Bella had overruled him, citing the importance of familial involvement, especially since her parents could not fly in for both the wedding and the birth. So, it was all on him, so to speak. Desperately, Edward prayed that his mother would behave. And not wear neon. And not bring her flask of tequila. Or maybe the tequila would help sedate her, he mused. Never mind that their ceremony was a simple civil affair at the county courthouse, this day was enormously important and a quick analysis of the probability of a fuck up panicked him to no end.

Interrupting his internal acrobatics, an abrupt clang of what sounded like cowbells and a raucous guffaw announced the arrival of their first 'witnesses'.

"DUDE, you look greeeen!" Emmett bellowed as he sauntered through the door.

Clearly, in the world according to Dr. Emmett McCarty, 'dude' was a universally situation-appropriate term of endearment.

"Ah, well, perhaps?" Edward answered carefully. Edward hoped that Dr. McCarty was joking. Green was not healthy, not to mention it likely clashed with the wallpaper. Why that occurred to him, he wasn't sure. Hesitantly, still trying to judge the sincerity of Emmett's utterance, he rose to greet his friend. "Um, thanks… for coming, you know."

Emmett barreled across the room, nearly took his hand off with the firmness of his handshake, and then plopped in the worn chair beside Edward's. "Are you nervous? Cause, fuck, man, you look it. You kinda look like you might pass out. Did you get shitfaced last night? You know I'm pissed as fuck that you wouldn't do a bachelor's party. I was looking forward to seeing you get a lap dance. That'd have been fucking priceless."

Edward blanched at the image. Never, even during his ramblings as an undergraduate, had he stepped into an establishment such as the one to which Emmett alluded and not needed to bathe immediately upon leaving. Such places lacked good hygiene and basic sanitation – such as tubs of Purell. The performers were often… plastic-y and too touchy. And too, he'd take a lap dance from Bella any day over an overly choreographed routine from a random woman with puffed up tits and spray-tanned skin.

"Sit down, Edward, before you fall over or something. You know, you can always back out," Emmett laughed. He tapped his head thoughtfully and then added, "Though Bella might de-ball you for leaving her at the alter… you know her being all knocked up by your super genius sperm and all."

Edward's eyes widened and he stammered out unintelligible negatives. Even joking about such blasphemy was intolerable! Why males felt the need to disparage their significant others while in the presence of other males was beyond him. Why hide the fact that he was the most fortunate man alive?

"I should think no-"

Before he could even finish his argument, however, a deafening and obnoxious squeal of 'Edddddie!' rang out, literally bouncing and echoing off the walls. Without looking away from Emmett's face, he flinched as he recognized the excited and slightly slurred drawl of his mother.

Before the glass door could even snap shut, a very loud and jumbled series of greetings and queries spilled out like an auctioneer's ramble, "Oh Carlisle! Look how handsome our Edward is! That suit! You are so suave and debonair! Oh, and your friend! You must be Emmett! I'm Esme, of course. You look like a football player! Those shoulders! Sweets, do you play football? You have the physique for it… I can just tell, even sitting. You two are so cute! Not in a homosexual way… not that I'd care. Do you have a girlfriend, Emmett? Carlisle! Get the camera! Bella is such a lucky woman! Oh, God, Edward, I'm so thrilled for you! Tell him, Carlisle! Tell him how I've been going crazy ever since you called and told us! A wedding and a baby! Oh, God, where's Bella? She's carrying my grandbaby! Carlisle? Find her! Now! I haven't seen her in weeks and I need to see that belly!"

Fuck, Edward screamed mutely, already imagining the shenanigans to which he'd inevitably bear witness. Kill me, God. Please?

But apparently, his mother was more interested in seeing his soon-to-be bride and unborn infant than him. Her bouffant-ed head, sprayed into a near-perfect sphere with an absolutely huge diameter – gravity-defying even – whipped back and forth mid-stride. The split second she noticed that Bella was absent from the lobby, he watched as she turned an abrupt ninety degrees to the left and raced toward the restroom, her electric purple wrap flowing like a jester's cape. Ignoring the startlingly bright color of her dress and accessories, Edward gandered that women were psychic with regards to bathroom habits. Their tendency to congregate in such places was baffling and very disturbing. Anytime another male even so much as looked at him in the restroom, it made him exceptionally nervous. It was just rude! Perhaps it's the couches, Edward hypothesized. Men's rooms do not have cushioned seating. Maybe they see it as a reception area of sorts… Disgusting! Gah!

When he turned back around, he was speechless. His friend was plainly frozen by fear as his entire face seemed to be locked and his mouth kept opening and closing but issuing no sound. Emmett's expression would have been comical had Edward not been equally horrified by its cause. His mother was… obviously insane, and nothing was more frightening than an energized lunatic. They were unpredictable, and as such, made Edward very uncomfortable. Even when said lunatic was flesh and blood.

After what felt like eternity, Dr. McCarty squeaked, "Yours?"

Scrunching his nose, Edward grimly nodded, understanding that the connection would be impossible to deny. His father glided toward the two men, seemingly at perfect ease, somehow having tuned out his wife's mortifying entrance. Before his father reached them, conspiratorially, Emmett whispered, hiding his words behind a massive paw, "Jesus, dude, she reminds me of my mom. Scared the fuck out of me for a minute."

Edward could but nod solemnly again, knowing that fear all too well, and now possessing a degree more of respect for his friend, as he understood him to be a fellow comrade in matriarchal insanity.

"Son," Carlisle greeted smoothly. Edward was envious of his father's cool and relaxed demeanor. Clasping a hand on Edward's shoulder, he went on, "Congratulations. Don't mind your mother, okay? She's just a little… excited. And she tried to take the edge off and maybe tried a little too hard. You know how she can be. I hope she doesn't tackle Bella."

"Indeed," Edward mumbled, nervously tugging on the cuffs of his sleeves. He did not want to think about the goings-on of his mother and his fiancée in the ladies room.

"How are you?"

Edward's brow puckered and he answered truthfully, "Um, nauseated." As if to taunt him, a flip of his stomach punctuated the point. "Ugh…"

Carlisle chuckled and squeezed Edward's shoulder. "It's not too late…"

Edward glared, irate that yet another person – his father! – felt it necessary to provide him an out. Fumbling, he belted out, "Agh! Why do people keep saying that? God! Do you-… don't you people realize how perfect she is? Bella is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Only an idiot would think twice! No, I am not going to fucking back out or fucking run away. Ever. Fuck!"

A silent pause answered him, followed by three voices erupting in bawdy laughter, the third of which made him turn on his toes. From the back entry, Professor Jasper Whitlock crowed, "You are such a pussy, Edward! When do you get your balls back?"

"Shut up, Dr. Whitlock. Erm, I don't think you want me to bring up your own impending nuptials and lack of backbone. Or balls. Or whatever." Edward harrumphed pointedly and settled back into his chair.

Emmett's voice boomed in the room, completely unbothered by the fact that they were in public. "You all are pussies! Every last one of you!"

"Dr. McCarty?"

It was almost as if ice water had been poured down the back of his shirt.

Edward grinned and muffled a laugh as Bella entered the room, flanked by three other women, each of whom had assumed expressions of righteous indignation. Though, it seemed that only Edward could tell immediately that Bella's was purely for show. Emmett, evidently, was too dense to notice. And Jasper was too lazy. And his father just didn't give a fuck. Lucky bastard.

"You were saying, Dr. McCarty?"

"Fuck."

~O.o~

"Mr. Cullen? Ms. Swan?" a feminine voice called, interrupting Rosalie's nearly violent verbal assault on her supposed "dominant". Her tirade and, more so, his supplication was truly amusing and was an excellent distraction from the gymnastics in his midsection. Undoubtedly, their relationship dynamic was only part time. And likely, Emmett had exaggerated the extent, Edward decided, watching him wither beneath her haughty stare. Although, it wasn't like he could blame Emmett for his cowardice. Rosalie Hale was frightening in her towering heels and blonde glory, even after she'd finally explained what she'd meant about Bella during their earlier conversation.

Really, Ms. Hale's claims were simply ludicrous. Pleasant wishes? Yes. Realistic? No.

When Edward turned, shaking his head in remembrance, the voice politely asked again, "Are you Mr. Cullen?"

Edward dipped his chin, fearful of his voice – or lack thereof – and eyed the woman suspiciously. She was smiling very widely. It was distressing. Beside him, Bella stood with a proud grin and threaded her fingers between his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. Her support was marginally helpful.

The woman looked down at their joined hands and frowned slightly, but then quickly recovered and bobbed her head enthusiastically. Alarmingly, Edward watched over the rims of his frames as her eyes roamed his face and went possibly even lower.

No, he chastised himself, scratching his chin. It's stress.

"Excellent! I'll be officiating your vows today. Just relax, okay? It's a big step, I know, but we'll be through so fast you won't be able to blink," she continued, clearly noting his fidgeting and discomfort. With what appeared to be a suggestive wink, she introduced herself, "And please, just call me Deanna. We're pretty informal around here." And then she fucking winked again!

Edward's forehead creased, as he studied her twitching eye and rationalized, Perhaps this woman has an ocular disorder. Or a tick. I hope it's… well, neither. But problems with the cornea and such are usually treatable… the other option is not so easily…. Ticks are not good… At all… and really not understood by most doctors… neurological, of course. Not my area… yes, perhaps an ocular disorder would be preferred. Perhaps I should recommend a good ophthalmologist… Hmm… Straightening, he glanced around and cringed when he noticed his mother grinning like a serial killer. Surprised my mother doesn't twitch…

The brown-haired woman – dressed sharply in a dark suit, he had to admit – motioned them forward with a friendly grin… and a third wink. Yes, I will give her Peter's name and number, he resolved, trying to remember where he placed the information for his former classmate at Hopkins.

Their officiant was quite tall, he observed, clearly not in need of the ridiculously high – and very dangerous looking – heels she wore. While he certainly appreciated high heels in the general sense – especially when coupled with slutty lingerie – Edward concluded that they could not be good for one's feet. They were surely beautiful in the way that they angled the leg and straightened the back, but they had to be podiatric nightmares. Briefly, he contemplated whether or not he should discourage Bella's wardrobe choices, for she definitely preferred shoes of that sort. Three overriding factors made his decision as to whether or not to pursue that discussion.

1. Edward admitted that footwear and footwear design were not amongst the skills and expertise he listed in his curriculum vitae. In fact, he'd never even taken a course on the subject.

2. From observing the interactions between his parents and other acquaintances, Edward had learned early in life that women typically were not inclined to take advice given by men, especially when it was given unsolicited. And his soon-to-be wife was a genius, so she surely knew what she was doing with regard to her attire.

3. Selfishly, Bella's shoes made his cock groan.

Thusly, he decided to keep his mouth shut on the matter.

As they followed, in addition to her footwear preferences, still distracted by their oddly behaving officiant, Edward couldn't help but notice, too, that her skirt was peculiarly reminiscent of those Bella wore – very tight and a touch on the side of too short. Not that he was looking! But still, the similarities were there. And she was sashaying her ass side to side. It was almost as if she wanted people to stare at it. As they walked, he glanced over to Bella and found an odd smirk settled across her features.

Thankfully, his bafflement was short-lived, as five minutes later, his attention was otherwise required as they stood hand in hand in the front of a small room – of course, decorated with more alarmingly designed wallpaper. Tangentially, he wondered if Dr. Brandon was to blame. Such color and patterning were likely right up her alley. The officiant – Deanna, as she'd told him a second time in very smooth and low voice – stood center. Though, he noticed, disconcertingly, she was slightly closer to his side. The pictures his mother would no doubt take would be asymmetrical, an annoyance.

Deanna asked, staring at him and still smiling, "Do you have all your paperwork, Mr. Cullen?"

Edward jerked, pulled from his mental evaluations. His stomach lurched and he palmed the back of his neck as he launched into a long-winded and semi-intelligible reply, "Ah, um, paperwork? Right. Erm, of course. Do people actually forget such things? … I would hope not! If they do… well, that's shocking, you know. This is, um, important! How could someone not be prepared for the most important day of his life?

"I think you'll find everything in order," he rambled, reaching for the packet under his arm. Gingerly, he held out a neatly arranged folder of certificates and documents, all filed alphabetically and tediously labeled with color-coded thumb tabs. "Um, yes, there are two copies… just in case. Under the… um, blue tab, you will find all pertinent information regarding… the erm, witnesses… Dr. McCarty and Ms. Hale, and well, Professor Whitlock and Dr. Brandon, too. We have four, you see. And my parents, of course. But we're not counting them, so their files aren't there. Not that parents don't count, mind you. But you only need two… but we have four, like I said. Just to be safe… and um, to avoid selecting favorites. Six would be overkill.

"And medical evaluations and data and such are under the red tab. Since, well, since we're expecting… that's likely obvious from my fiancée's abdo-…uh, never mind… That's not why we're here though! So don't think that… I had a ring! Before we found out about the, erm, baby. Anyway, we've run the gauntlet, if you will, so I'm positive that you will find no issue with clean bills of health. Well, and we're rather informed regarding health issues, if you must know… so no worries. Bella and I are both research hematologists or um, more simply, biochemists… we study blood and pathogens in blood. And diseases and such. Well, I do the research. She manages people, erm, like me… but she still has all the relevant background. So, naturally, we've had all the primary genetic screenings done… and most – no, likely all of the secondaries, as well. For the baby, you know. And in case we want to have… never mind…"

The woman's eyes were too wide and Edward realized he'd probably over-shared. Again.

Squeezing Bella's hand, he sighed in exasperation and swallowed another wave of nausea. Fuckity. Goddamnit!

"See, Bella, you were supposed to handle this part!" he hissed. "I don't do people!"

Bella, naturally, merely chuckled and leaned over, deviously – though surreptitiously – brushing across seam of his zipper. Her lips tugged on his earlobe and she whispered, "You do people just fine."

Laughing softly, the officiant asked, gratefully interrupting Bella's unerring path to a public hard-on, "Pre-nup? I'm assuming that you two have filed one?"

Now, it was Edward's turn to gape, wholly bothered and stunned. An incredulous crinkle of his nose caught his sliding frames, as he nearly yelled, "What?"

"I take it then… no pre-nup?" she answered, looking back and forth in confusion. Edward grumbled incoherently as he heard sniggering in the peanut gallery.

Bella smiled graciously and thankfully answered for him. Otherwise, God only knew what kind of word vomit would come from his mouth. Because really, that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. Why would he start out in a marriage with an out clause? That was the most unromantic thing he could possibly think of. What is with people! he grated. Just no! If for some reason Bella left him, Edward had already come to grips with the fact that his life would simply be over. There would be no other option and money would be unnecessary. Regardless of such nonsense, they both had substantial salaries and savings anyway.

"Okay, then," the woman cooed too sweetly, as she looked him over, head to toe, pausing at very conspicuous points along the way.

How odd, indeed! Edward thought, curiously appraising the way this woman… appraised him. After a moment, recognition finally set in, and his lips dropped in surprise. I think she's leering at me! Surely not… That would be highly inappropriate! I'm here getting mar-… no…can't be… She is though! It's this goddamned suit! She's eye fucking me! Just… no… what the fuck? What do I do? Wide-eyed and befuddled, he whipped his head toward Bella and found her smiling like the cat that ate the canary. She thinks this is funny!

As the gods would have it, however, almost as if in concert, Dr. Brandon and Ms. Hale intervened with sharp huffs and shrill taps of platform bedecked feet. Likely, Ms. Hale wore what Emmett had shakily referred to as her 'bitch brow' considering the inflection and volume of her display of aggravation. And he knew without a doubt the scowl Dr. Brandon wore. After all, he did work for the woman. Withstanding his curiosity, Edward was entirely too anxious and alarmed to look for himself to verify his hypotheses. And Bella did giggle in amusement, so he trained his focus on his bride-to-be and attempted to ignore all else. Either way, no further winking or cooing occurred.

Women were strange creatures. He hoped that by being legally bound to one, his understanding of the gender and its behaviors would improve.

Time in this room was virtually meaningless, Edward determined. It shifted and stalled and fast-forwarded in seemingly random intervals. For example, the exchange of legal documents felt to have lasted two hours or more based on the riptide in his gut, but in actuality, it had taken only minutes. For precisely nine minutes from the time they walked through the door, after only half hearing a rambling of official-sounding words and phrases, gazing into liquid brown eyes, Edward found himself saying words that he'd never dreamed that he would be in a position to say.

"I do."

Thirty seconds later, all at once, his heart constricted and exploded in his chest as he heard the same words repeated to him.

As if in a daze, all else now unimportant and forgotten, he watched in rapture as he slid the diamond band onto Bella's finger, and when platinum encircled his, his eyes pricked and watered. Suddenly, unable to contain himself, he wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her entirely too long and possibly – no, definitely – inappropriately. And he didn't give a fuck because considering the way she clung to him and pushed her tongue into his mouth, she didn't give a fuck either.

And then, as if to announce their union, from behind them within the ranks of their small gathering, there were tears and caterwauling. Edward's mother was a very, very loud crier.

~O.o~

"Come here, Mrs. Cullen," Edward whispered as he trailed the backs of his fingers along her bare upper arm. Each time he called her by her new name, a grin stretched across his face as both his heart and his cock thumped in recognition. Thank God, dinner had been short, and equally so that everyone had behaved. For the most part.

Never mind the 'groom's cake' his mother had deemed necessary to bring along. It was some variety of a joke, she'd explained, laughing like a wild hyena. His father hadn't been much better, snorting and shaking in his corner, a disappointment to say the least. Considering the nearly glow-in-the-dark icing, obviously, his mother had an affinity for whorehouse-violet, in addition to her penchant for inflicting mortification. But really! Cakes should never be shaped like penises, purple or not. Emmett and Jasper had, of course, found the entire situation riotous – that is, until his mother had promised to bake them their own cock cakes, hot pink for Emmett. In truth, everyone had been amused, especially Bella, and as such, Edward had merely turned cherry red and fidgeted per his usual.

Skimming his nose along her jaw, he murmured, "I made a promise to you earlier today that I plan on keeping."

"Actually, you made me several promises today," she returned, quirking a brow as she snaked her arms around his neck.

Edward grinned and pulled her close. Well, as close as the kicking beach ball would allow. He had to admit, while fucking during her pregnancy had certainly been enjoyable – brain muddling really – truthfully, it would be more convenient when he didn't have to dodge the distension of her waist. And he couldn't wait until he could really bite again. Definitely the biting. That, he missed. A lot.

Just the mere thought of a return to their coital bloodletting sent his cock into near hysterics. It had been months since he'd experienced that kind of bliss.

Taking into account the recent extraordinary frequency of their coupling and his now rather expectant libido, however, he wasn't quite sure how they would handle those weeks of post-delivery celibacy while she recovered. The idea of going just a week without was… unpleasant. But being the consummate thinker and planner, however, Edward had some ideas – as if he would have not thought ahead! In fact, he already had a rather fat folder of… data… saved on his hard drive chock full of non-penetrating scenarios they could try. Who said that orgasms required penetration anyway! Edward ventured he could make Bella come without laying a finger on her. Maybe not. But close enough. But when she was fully healed and well, a celebration would definitely be in order.

It was fortunate, too, that they had so many readily available babysitters who he believed he could trust. They would be needed. Not Emmett – clearly, as not even adults were safe with him and his incessant ability to light things on fire – but Ms. Hale had divulged her love for children and had even offered to baby-sit ahead of time! She would be an excellent sitter. Considering her reading material, Ms. Hale was likely to be very knowledgeable about all manners of womanly things, which no doubt included children.

He hoped his neuroses would allow for baby-sitting. Edward had read where some new parents were reticent to part with recently born children – even for brief periods of time – which really, was wholly understandable in his opinion considering the enormity of responsibility associated with parenthood. In truth, he couldn't wait to meet his child and he predicted that it would be tremendously difficult to trust another person with his daughter, never mind the fact that every time he himself imagined holding her, he also imagined dropping her or holding her too tightly or just fucking up in the general sense. It was all very confusing.

But for now, other things were on his mind.

"This is very true," he murmured, reaching for the delicate bow at her waist. In a single, fast motion, he pulled on the thin ribbon and watched in fascination as the silky material parted in front of him, leaving a very sexy and very exposed Bella.

"Fuck," he strangled, running his fingertips along the edge of nude lace covering her tits. Her nipples were already erect and were just barely hidden behind the sheerness of the fabric. Lingerie like this had but one purpose. Bending down, he pulled a still-covered pink peak into his mouth, tracing its outline with his tongue and nipping with his teeth. A sharp intake of air and low groan answered his sucking, very nearly diverting him from his task. Not wanting to show favoritism, of course, he yanked the lace over her other breast down and rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and pulling harder than usual, reminiscent of pre-pregnancy stimulation. Another, louder mewl and curse acknowledged his ministrations, shooting straight to his cock. Nipple clamps, he thought quickly. Why haven't I brought home nipple clamps yet? Mutely, he added the accessories to his post-delivery sexual shopping list. It was a long list.

Manicured nails ran along his scalp, sending shivers down his spine. "Harder," she panted.

Never one to deny her wishes, he happily complied, wanting nothing more than her wet and moaning, by clamping his fingers down on one nipple and grazing his teeth along the other.

"Yes, there… Oh, God," Bella whined, closing her eyes as she wrapped her hand around his tie just as she had earlier.

He tugged on her nipples, relented, and then tugged again, each time garnering loud, frustrated groans. Lifting his head, Edward watched her face, the way her lips parted, the way her features tightened under the strain of pleasure. The tip of her tongue swiped across her lower lip, and he couldn't resist immediately latching his lips to hers and sliding his tongue inside. He kissed her hard, demanding and unrelenting, licking and tangling. She slanted her mouth, and he plunged his tongue deeper, wanting nothing more than to be closer, to feel more, to possess and to be possessed. When he ran his palms over her now sensitive and swollen tips, she moaned into his mouth and jerked sharply on his tie.

Breathless she broke their kiss and groaned, "Christ, Edward. I need you… so much."

Backing away with a smile, he gently unwound his tie from her grip. "While I love this dress, Mrs. Cullen, I want you bare. Take your bra and panties off for me… But leave the hosiery on… for now. And the heels, too. I like them… very much. But then you knew that before you even dressed, didn't you?"

He watched, enthralled, as pale silk slid down her shoulders and landed in a puddle at her feet. His gaze traveled back up her legs, staring at the way her heels aligned her ankles, the delicate line of her calves, the slender curve of her thighs, still wrapped in translucent silk. Somehow, thigh highs were even sexier without the garter straps. He wanted to run his tongue from toe to pussy.

"Wait," he murmured before she reached back to unclasp her bra. "Hair. Take the pins out first."

Bella smiled wickedly, no doubt turned on by the way he ogled her and too, likely by the undeniable evidence of the lust growing in his trousers. Truth be told, he was hard as a fucking rock, yet somehow with each motion, his dick seemed to get even harder – painful almost.

One by one, curled strands fell and draped her shoulders, dark mahogany against porcelain. Bella being Bella, she was in no hurry at all, drawing this out. By the mischievous glimmer in her eyes, she was clearly enjoying the delicious torture she was imparting. And fuck, if it wasn't torture. His cock throbbed and jumped, begging to be released so that it could bury itself in her heat.

Slowly, she turned around such that he could only see her back and unhurriedly unclasped her bra. The movement was exceedingly sensual, his own personal burlesque show. It reminded him of the full-on strip tease she'd performed for him months prior. Once the baby was born, a repeat of that night would be in order. While inconvenient and perhaps unpractical for daily wear, tassels were… fucking hot.

"That's it, Bella," he grunted, adjusting his cock as he watched the straps fall down her arms and then to the floor.

"Now the panties…" Bella's panties were absolutely sinful, virtually non-existent, a sheer matching nude lace all over, cut perfectly along her backside, dipping in and outlining each perfect cheek. How they stayed in place, he wasn't certain, but his fingers twitched at the thought of sliding his fingers underneath to explore. He wanted to touch and grab and lick and fuck. Hard. Her ass was one of the most tempting things he'd ever seen.

Glancing back across her shoulder, she smirked at his dumbfounded expression. Arching her back and bending over slightly, her thumbs vanished beneath lace and began pulling the strip of cloth down, swinging her ass back and forth, and then pausing halfway.

"More," he ordered hoarsely as his palm dropped down to his strained bulge so that he could release his zipper. By the time lace hit hardwood, his cock was out, hot and sensitive from excessive blood flow and stranding at full attention. He had to admit his size – both in length and girth – was quite impressive. Bella surely thought so.

Bella's eyes widened and she turned around, immediately reaching out to grasp his shaft. "Mr. Cullen, I think you might have a problem there… Don't you want to slip out of those pants?"

Edward chuckled and lifted a brow. "Tsk tsk, Mrs. Cullen… You don't recall what I promised you?"

Her head tilted and her eyes narrowed, not following. Reaching out for her hand, he pulled her forward and guided her to the loveseat across from the bed. Sitting down and settling against the cushion, he adjusted his frames and loosened his tie but left it dangling around his neck. For the visual. Gently positioning her in front of him, he ran his palms along her thighs, dipping closer and closer to her pussy with each pass.

His forefinger flicked and circled her clit, already slick from her arousal, and he looked up to meet her wondering stare. His eyes – now a dark jade, almost black – scorched into hers, and in a low, husky voice, he reminded her of their conversation, "I promised long and hard. And per your special request, in this suit. And I don't break promises, Mrs. Cullen. Ever.

"Now turn around and sit down on my cock. I want you to fuck me. Now."

A quick spin and a second later, sublime heat enveloped him, and he felt pulsing, tight muscles wrap around his cock, constricting tighter with every inch.

"Goddamnit, you are sexy," he huffed, staring at the way her parted ass cheeks rose up and down along his length. He grabbed her hips and guided her motions, starting out slowly, but pulling her down harder with each rise and fall. "Jesus, you have… the finest… ass I've ever seen. It took… everything… I had to…fuck… not lift your skirt… and bend you over today. God, I wanted to."

She rolled her hips, timed with the pace of her downstrokes, clenching and unclenching her pussy muscles in divine massage. "Fuck, Edward… how do you feel so good… Your head is… God, right there… Oh, God," she cried out, as her hands squeezed the tops of his thighs, her nails digging through summer wool. Every time she sank down, she moaned and grunted, rolling her head back and forth.

He kneaded her ass, edging his thumbs inward, lightly brushing deeper between her cheeks with each stroke. When he skimmed across her pucker, her motions sped and her hips slammed down on his lap with muffled claps, punctuated by increasingly loud moans. Even without the verbal cues, Edward could feel her body preparing to orgasm as she bucked her hips over and over. Her back bent backward toward his chest, changing the angle ever so slightly, allowing his cock to reach deeper still, and her entire body began to tense and tremble. At the same time, however, he could tell that her legs were giving out. With each stroke down, her rhythm grew more frantic and choppy, harder, but slower.

"Relax, Bella," he whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her torso to still her movements. With surprising strength – for the hundredth time, thankful for his time in the gym – Edward swiftly lifted her off of him and carried her to the bed, setting her just at the edge. Stripping off his jacket and dropping his trousers, he placed her hands on the tops of his shoulders. He pried her legs apart, crooking her knees over his forearms and bent her as much as her stomach would permit. "Baby, now let me do the work… you relax… and come. Hard. I want to feel you shaking and hear your screams. Hold on to me, okay?"

Bella nodded drunkenly, her grip loose and lazy. Grinning, he guided his head to her entry and without warning, plunged in until his hips hit hers. He wasn't entirely sure whose groan was louder. She was so slick and so hot, and her pussy muscles were already quivering and clamping down around his cock. And fuck, the visual was almost enough alone to make him come. Silky thighs and spiky heels spread out across his arms… Her pussy was at the perfect height – they'd selected this bed and mattress for that reason after all. Sitting but leaning back, folded up enough so that he could pound her but not hurt her or the baby… again, this was another position to add to their growing repertoire.

Not pausing, Edward slowly pulled out, only to abruptly plunge in again. And again. And then once more before increasing the speed and force of his thrusts, setting a pounding pace – not exceedingly fast, but hard and unrestrained. In this position, every skin-slapping thrust sent his head into her back wall, eliciting wails of approval.

Bella threw her head back, panting, "God, yes… so close… love this… position… love you… Edward… Fuck, yes!"

"Love… you so much, Bella. Oh God, I love you…" he hissed through clenched teeth, trying to stave off his impending orgasm. Heat bubbled down through his abdomen directly into his aching cock.

When he felt her muscles cinch down, quivering, his eyes rolled back at the sensation and his fingers pressed into her skin. It was pure ecstasy the way her pussy stroked his cock, like a velvet fist squeezing and jerking him toward orgasm. Nothing was better than this, being buried inside of her as she exploded around him and screamed out his name. Her skin pebbled and her body quaked all around him, not stopping for several long seconds as he continuously pumped.

"Ahhhh, Edward," she cried again. Before the last extended syllable of his name was heard, shockwaves rippled down his thighs, and his hips sped and rocked into her harder. With but a handful of thrusts, he gasped and clenched his eyes shut from the force of his orgasm.

"Fuck," he exhaled, breathless, gently lowering her legs back to the mattress and pulling out.

Bella laughed and slurred, "Yeah… you can say that again."

Groaning, he collapsed onto the bed beside her, not bothering to remove his shirt. Without wasting a moment, Edward pulled her up to lie against him, nuzzling into her neck, planting soft kisses along her throat.

"I can't fucking see," he mumbled, swallowing and trying to still the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"Are you saying that you've been fucked blind," she giggled while tenderly – lovingly – running her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. When he opened his eyes, Bella was grinning, her face pink and simply radiant. While she laughed playfully, he could see his pure and utter elation mirrored in her smile, in her glimmering eyes, just in her.

My wife. My Bella. Mine forever, he thought, sighing as a wave of staggering joy coursed through him.

Smiling, he hugged her body to his and chuckled, "You always blind me, Mrs. Cullen. All I ever see is you."