So I got a request to make this a collection so…here it goes! I know, my versions of Carlisle and Esme probably aren't up to par, but cut me some slack!

Stephanie Meyer? "Not me!" said the flea; "Not I!" said the Twilight-obsessed teenager…

Carlisle and Esme

Part One: I Can't Get No Satisfaction

In all my years, I have never met anyone who could even hold a candle to Carlisle. His compassion, his control, his intelligence far exceeded that of any other being in existence. Moreover, he was loving and so incredibly patient in every situation. I had never done anything to deserve such a wonderful creature.

But right now, I wanted to hit this compassionate, controlled, intelligent, loving, patient creature in the back of the head with a baseball bat.

"Carlisle, how in God's name did you lose it?" I kept my voice as calm as possible, knowing he would never yell at me for anything, no matter what it was.

"I did not lose it; I simply misplaced it," he replied as he continued to overturn couch cushions and pillows.

"Well, dear, I would speculate that 'losing' and 'misplacing' are interchangeable words. Either way, you have no idea where it is," irritation began creeping it's way into my tone. I had tried the whole calm thing, but nobody is perfect.

"Yes I do. I'm just not entirely sure that my idea is right."

Sometimes he was so infuriating. The constant calm, the exasperating tolerance, even the way he kept his expression so immensely full of love every time he looked at me, especially when we were in the midst of a dispute. This was why we had never fought. We had had disagreements, one may even go so far as to say debates. But we had never fought. Never raised our voices. We just came to a resolution without argument. But for this once, I wanted to fight. I wanted to yell, to scream, maybe even throw a few plates (it was not like we used them anyway). But I was always so happy with him so there was never any reason to fight. Until now.

My spontaneous wish to argue was not entirely my idea. I had been watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith with Rosalie…

The couple, both assassins, was shooting at each other for at least ten minutes, chasing one another through the house, missing every shot. I was just trying to figure out which would run out of bullets first and who would initiate the knife fight and who would die. However, when the opportunity finally arose for one of them to end it, they threw their weapons aside and began having sex so intense that I was sure it could never in a million years be real.

"Oh, that is so typical of the film industry. Putting things so unrealistic in their movies. It's never like that," I muttered half to myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rosalie smirk.

"It is for me." I could not hide my shocked reaction as I turned to look at her.

"What? Really? You're joking."

"Esme," she laughed as she said my name. "Are you that naïve? Come on, it's not like you and Carlisle never do it." I was never very comfortable discussing my sex life, especially with Rosalie. She and Emmett were constantly at it, so much that it embarrassed even me. Besides, she definitely had more experience than me, even if I was older than her by at least a decade.

"Well…of course we do, that much is obvious. But…" if I had blood, my cheeks would have been burning hotter than fire. "I'm not sure how else to say…It is never like that!" I indicated the television screen (where he had just slammed her against the wall and…she liked it?) to emphasize my point. I sighed, unsure if I was confused as to why being beaten half to death was pleasurable or wishing I could know that kind of intensity…

"It isn't going to be exactly like that for anyone. Personally, I can't picture you and Carlisle getting turned on by trying to kill each other."

"And you and Emmett do?" I asked before I could consider my words. I really did not care to know more than I already did, and I already knew a great deal. Of course I was glad that they loved each other. Nothing made me happier than my children's happiness. But they were louder than a million erupting volcanoes being pounded by wrecking balls during an avalanche in the middle of the apocalypse. And I am only slightly exaggerating.

"Well, duh, we don't try to kill each other," she rolled her eyes and laughed. "But sometimes…God, he is so sexy when he's angry." she fell silent, reminiscing about some night with Emmett, I'm sure. It was uncomfortable enough before she let her eyes flutter shut and smirked wickedly. It got to be too much for me when she started biting her bottom lip. I coughed delicately. She started a bit, opening her eyes, and chuckled ruefully. "Sorry about that. It's just…I get so caught up in it that I forget that I'm not alone." she laughed again. "Once I caught his glance from across the classroom and I knew exactly what he was thinking about…the way he looked at me…I swear I could have started screaming his name right then. However, the teacher said something to me before I could get too carried away." I frowned.

"I never scream." For some reason, this baffled her.

"Never? Never ever, ever?" her expression was incredulous.

"Well…no." I shifted uncomfortably. Oh no. What had I gotten myself into? "I mean…it's more like…"

"Esme. For once, be open about this. Obviously, you want more than what your getting."

"I have to go dust the dining room," I tried to stand hastily but she caught my wrist and pulled me back to the couch. She grabbed my face and forced me to look at her.

"I know it's weird to talk about, to say the least, but if you're not satisfied with your sex life then you need to do something about it."

"I am satisfied!" I burst out indignantly, jumping to my feet. "He's wonderful in bed!" Good God Almighty, I cannot believe I just said that out loud. My "daughter" was the least of all people I would have ever in a million years expected to have this conversation with.

"Then what is the problem?" I sighed. I knew what the problem was.

"It's become…so routine." I practically flopped back to my previous spot, and flopping was something I rarely did. I sighed again and stared at the ceiling as I spoke. "The same thing every time. Not that I really mind, of course. The emotional side of it is…it is always incredible and beautiful, even magical. But the physical side…for once I wish he was not so gentle, so delicate with every touch. Understand," I looked back at her. "it isn't that he's bad, far from it; he's good, great, amazing… But I know he can be even better. He's holding back and he doesn't even realize it." she looked at me speculatively. "What is it?"

"I think I may need Alice's help but…" There was that wicked little smirk again. "How opposed are you to lingerie?"

So…tell me what you think! Part two will not be posted until I get at least five reviews. This may be a three-part story…I haven't decided yet. So go on, click the button…you know you want to… :]