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The characters are not mine. The beautiful kinky ways they love each other are, so no stealing.

Chapter 2: Retribution

Chirp, chirp, titter, chirp—it's incessant and I have a headache. There was a time when I loved hearing Alice talk. She had so many interesting things to say and her energy amused me. I resent her now, which makes be ill because I don't know if I truly think she's done something wrong or if I'm trying to ease my own guilt in what will probably be the end of our marriage.

"You aren't listening to a single word I've said," she almost shrieks. She's not trying to yell; she's naturally loud and high-pitched. It confuses me why this makes me more angry than if she were actually yelling.

"You're headed for Barcelona for a week."

"I leave in two days. Make sure Edward has everything he needs. I posted a list on the fridge of the food he likes, and maybe you two can spend some time together. You never hang out just the guys."

"Alice," I interrupt as she moves on to another topic, "you've traveled countless times since we were married and at least twice since Edward came to live with us. I've always handled things."

"I know, but I just want to make sure."

"Alice—"

"My flight leaves on Thursday—"

"Just stop! I know all this. You don't have to micromanage everything I do."

Having grown up on a ranch in Texas, far outside any city limits, silence and I have become well acquainted, but the silence in this bedroom is not the same as the silence of fresh air and horseshit. This silence is angry hurt. It's large and stifles the room with heavy arms, holding me in everlasting tension.

"Is that what I do?" Alice asks, and I want to cringe at how quiet her voice has gotten. She's not meant to be quiet. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"I don't," I say, even though I do. I should tell her how I feel, at least a little. Let her start seeing the problem, so it won't surprise her too much when I leave her. "I just have a headache is all."

She sighs a small sigh, relief evident in her lowered shoulders. "Well, then, I know the perfect cure for a headache."

Before I realize what's happening, my wife is on her knees working at the zipper of my slacks. I notice how small her hands are when she wraps them around my cock and all I can think is how the only person I want touching me has big hands with long callused fingers from his guitar playing. It's not that it doesn't feel nice; it's just not what I want. She takes me in her mouth, sucking and licking like she does. It's not rough enough. Not controlled enough. But I let her because I fucking feel bad, even though I know I'll only feel bad after too, but it will be worse because I'll be hurting Edward. This orgasm should be his. More than a half hour later, I finally work myself up enough to come.

"Feel better, Jassy?" she says, crawling into my lap. I nod, but I'm lying. I feel as if my heart has split in two.

.

Edward knows. He can see it in the way I avoid his eyes and hear it in my silence. He doesn't know it was just a blowjob, but he knows it was something, and that's what matters. He's started bringing that girl over. I don't think they've done anything in the past few days, but I know Edward and I know it's coming. If sitting back and watching him betray me is a rock, tossing the girl out so we can talk it out is a hard place. Neither is very appealing.

It's Friday and the third night in a row that Bella is lounging in Edward's lap. They're watching a movie, something stupid that neither of them is laughing at, which tells me they're paying some special attention to each other. The exact kind of special attention is made obvious when Bella whimpers into Edward's shoulder and writhes.

I should leave, let him have his revenge. But I can't. I can't fucking let this happen. Knowing in the abstract is different than seeing it happen with my own eyes. My feet move and then my mind catches up. My anger flares anew when I meet Edward's beautiful eyes and he continues to finger-fuck that little bitch.

"Bella, I think you should go," I say, startling the hell out of her. Her cheeks light up like a Christmas tree and she hurries to button her jeans. She doesn't even wait to say goodbye to Edward before she's out the door. I almost feel sorry for her.

"You got a problem?" Edward says, draping his arms over the back of the couch, so casual. "I was just having a little fun with my girlfriend."

"She's not your fucking girlfriend."

"Oh, she's definitely a fucking girlfriend. We fucked in the car before we got here."

I see red everywhere. I want to strangle him for trying to hurt me. "I don't have a choice! I'm married. You are just a horny little fuck who can't keep it in his pants."

"Maybe I am. Maybe that's all I want you for, too. Did you ever think of that? I'll marry Bella someday and have your perfect little bullshit life."

"So that's it, huh?" I say, breathing heavy through my nose. "I'm just someone you fuck around with for fun."

He stands and lifts his chin to appear taller even though he's several inches shorter than me. "Fuck yes. You think I care about you? I don't care about you! You're… you're nothing to me," he says, his voice cracking, and I realize with unbridled horror that Edward is about to cry. "Shit!"

It takes me a minute to follow after him. In all the time I've known Edward, I have never seen him cry. He didn't seem the type. At least I'm unsurprised when I reach his room and hear him blasting his music. When Edward first moved in, I fought with Alice about putting a lock on his door. A grown boy needs his privacy, I said, but she didn't agree. Now I'm grateful I won't have to take the door off its hinges, but not so grateful for the sight that greets me. My Edward is face down on his bed, shoulders shaking as he sobs into his pillow.

The first thing I do is reach over and turn off the stereo. In a flash, Edward is off his bed and in my face telling me to get the fuck out of his room. He pushes and kicks, but I don't move. He reminds me so much of his age right now that I can feel myself falling apart, but I can't let myself. I need to let him be seventeen, let him be hurt and angry and hate me. I can do that for him.

"Why won't you just leave me the fuck alone! I don't fucking want you anymore!" he screams. "We're through! Fucking done!"

My throat is swollen, but I manage, "I love you."

"You don't fucking love shit! You're a player. You fuck with my sister and with me and who else? Huh? Who the fuck else?"

"I only love you."

"You don't! You fucking don't!"

The hitting stops so abruptly that I almost fall forward from meeting no resistance, and then backward when Edward collapses into me, clutching my shirt in white fists. My arms wrap around him of their own volition, an immediate reaction to his distress. Why can't he see that this isn't as simple as wanting to be with each other? There are parts we must play for now.

For several long minutes, he hangs off me, crying and wheezing, and then he jerks his head to look me in the eyes, and I swallow at the determination, longing, and fear I see there. "Where did it happen?" he asks, but he already knows the only place Alice and I are intimate is the bedroom. When I don't answer, he straightens and strides down the hall into my room. He knows I'll follow.

"The bed? Show me," he says. I sit in my spot on the bed, where I watched Alice pack her bags for her trip. Edward crawls on top of me, grinding himself down on me and licking at my neck. "Was it like this? Did she ride your cock?"

"No."

He doesn't relent his grinding, which is distracting, but he does pull back to look in my eyes. His fingers dig into my chin as he holds me there. "How? What did you do?"

"She was on her knees. She sucked it."

"Did she get you off?"

The sigh that comes is for both the pleasure I feel being so close to him and the pain of my admission. "You know she did."

"How long did it take her to get off my cock?" he says as he stands to remove his pants. Next he works on mine.

"About forty minutes."

It was easier when Alice pulled me out of my pants, since my dick was flaccid and pliable. With Edward I'm hard as granite, and I tell him of the difference before he thinks to ask.

"You are only hard for me," he says, half self-reassurance and half a command, as he strokes me. "I'm going to suck you just like she did, but fuck if you get to come. You already did that with her."

Wrong. Edward does not suck me just like Alice. Edward knows what he's doing. He works me with purpose, hitting all the spots I like. With Alice, forty minutes was the soonest I could come. With Edward, lasting that long will take everything I have.

"Promise me you won't come," he says after my loud, gasping groan. "Prove to me that you love me more that her."

"I promise. I fucking promise." I also cuss when Edward does these naughty things to me. I can't seem to help it. "It… wasn't like this. No one but… you."

"Fuck you. If it were only me you wouldn't have done shit with my sister."

He uses his tongue to stroke the under rim of my head, and I figure I should just shut up if I'm going to survive this. Surely ten minutes have passed already, but a look at the clock tells me it's only been three. It's wrong to pray to God in moments like this, but I do so anyway. Please, God, help me prove to this beautiful boy that I love him.

With a pop, Edward says, "Did she touch you here?" and grabs my balls in a rolling grip. I nod because I've vowed not to talk and make things worse, and because I'm not sure I can.

When Edward's fingers move back toward my scrotum and ass, I break. "Please, baby. Please. She didn't do that. Fuck. I won't… I can't… not if you touch me there. Please, please…."

"Touch me how you touched her," he says, thankfully returning his hand to my balls. "What did you say to her?"

The same gentle fingers I used on my wife I use on my Edward, and his nose crinkles just like I thought it might. Edward doesn't usually like gentle—not this kind, a barely-there brush of his hair and cheek. "I said mmmm a lot. And… yeah, right there. And that's it, honeybee."

A long, painful draw tells me he's not happy with my answer, and my hands become less gentle as a result. There's nothing I want more than to grab his head and shove my cock down his throat, except to prove myself to him. "You don't call her that anymore," he says

"Baby, she's my wife—"

"Fuck that. You might not be able to leave her tomorrow, but you can stop pretending you love her. No more."

"Okay, no more," I say, because it's the least I can do.

I want to come so fucking bad I can taste it. It helps me keep my cool that he's removed his hand from my balls, but if I look down I know I'll see him jerking off. It will undo me.

"Baby," I groan, "I need a break. Please. Oh, God, please."

"You want a fucking break?" he says, shoving me to lie back on the bed. He's on top of me in the space of a second, forcing his cock past my lips. There is nothing soft of slow in the way he fucks my mouth. He drives into me, intending to make me choke. "Fucking take what you asked for, you dirty little slut. Fucking goddamned whore. Don't you ever touch her again. I don't care if she begs. If you need to get off, you come to me."

I need air. Lord knows I don't want to answer him, but I need to breath. Just when I think this might be too much, he pulls out and drops back to his knees, working my cock ever harder with his experienced tongue. I know he was involved in a lot of messed up shit in Chicago, but I don't think I could take knowing how he got so good at this by the age of seventeen. If he ever wants to tell me, I'll listen, but I can't promise I won't want to kill some bastards.

Thinking of Edward's past helps some, but it's not something I like thinking about. Baseball scores don't work for me. I could think of Alice, but that makes me feel like the biggest douchebag there ever lived. Angry dogs, then. I never was a fan of dogs, the creepy little monsters. Ten minutes to go. I can't do this. I can't hold off. Eight minutes. I have to. If I don't, I lose the only good thing that's ever happened to me. Four minutes. Why the fuck is the clock ticking so slow? Someone must have altered it. Two minutes. Please, God, I beg of you, let me not come. One minute. Thirty seconds. Ten… nine… eight….

"Baby, baby, that's forty. Fuck, Edward, stop. Please."

He shoves me back on the bed, just like he did before, only this time he yanks down my slacks to my ankles, leaving me bare and pointed toward the ceiling to the left. He stands over me with his cock in his hand, working himself in a frenzy.

"Your cock is mine," he says. "All. Fucking. Mine. I don't want her mouth on it. I don't want her pussy on it. I don't want her to accidentally brush it with her fucking hand. The only person who gets to suck, fuck, and hold your cock is me." He's red-faced and tense, and so fucking beautiful. "Are we understood?"

"Yes," I say. "I'm so fucking sorry."

With a grunt that turns quickly into a strangled whine, he shoots his cum all over my dick, balls, and ass. I'm sure it's on the bed too, marking me as his in this spot where she had me. The way it feels dripping from my skin pulses in my dick, and I want so very badly to come, but I won't. Not tonight. There will be more, I'm sure of it. He'll fuck me, both my ass and mouth, maybe more than once, and I will be expected to suffer my desire. If this helps him, I can take it. I can take everything he gives me.

A/N: So, they're both kind of assholes, but I love them that way. Let me know what you think! Also, I have an interesting poll on my profile for anyone who wants to participate. If anyone has any recs for me, from any fandom, I'm game. I'm all about the kink ;)