FFG Outtake: Sunnydale Has a Science Fair

Aka More Like Buffy the Vampire Layer

Aka Spike Me, Baby

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 outtake was originally written for Fandom for Gisela (mad4hugh) who sadly passed away while at Comic Con in 2012.

Nose scrunched up and frowning in both disbelief and mild horror, Edward stared at his reflection in the mirror.

Or… more precisely, he stared at the mussed-up mop of dark bronze hair that he never, not once in his entire adult life, had had a hope of taming. Today, because his body apparently had a perversely mocking sense of humor, it was somehow worse than usual, a veritable bird's nest that defied combs, gel, and even this peculiar, dense, wax-like substance Bella had once gifted him in jest, literally called, "sculpting putty."

Tangentially, putty – any variety thereof – as far as Edward was concerned, belonged in hardware stores, not in bathrooms. Certainly not in hair. This particular offering was no different, despite his affection for its gifter. The stuff was pink for one thing. And sticky, which distressed Edward to no end. And the fact that it smelled like some form of vanilla-cherry dessert was simply appalling. Men did not use dessert fragranced toiletries! What women considered to be acceptable grooming products was truly baffling. Granted, despite his years of study and experimentation, women themselves were baffling creatures.

Regardless, today said sculpting putty was no match for his mangled mane anyway. And like always, Edward considered himself to be fortunate indeed that his wife! seemed to approve of its perpetually disheveled state. Then again, Edward mused, more often than not, she was its cause, which from his perspective, was a perfectly reasonable and acceptable circumstance. Fucking, which invariably involved pulling, tangling, and sweat, always took precedence over filamentary aesthetics.

Always.

Of course, now color was a different matter.

Counting again, Edward's frown deepened into a scowl as he fingered through the wayward strands. By his estimation and observation, since the last time he'd examined himself, there were no less than fifteen additional clear-ish-white hairs on his head, most of which congregated along with the previous arrivals at his temples. Others seemed to sprout randomly, stark and glaring against his darker, natural shade. Worse, as his simulation had predicted, the rate of discoloration was accelerating.

Fifteen! he wanted to yell. And that's only the front!

This was quite the conundrum.

Deferring to both logic and his expertise in human anatomy and various biochemical processes, while tempted, Edward resisted the urge to pluck them as most other men would do. First of all, the infernal things would simply grow back anyway. Two, there was the potential (if minor) risk of damage to the follicle, which according to literature, could indeed prevent regrowth, but… of hair period. Considering New Jersey's cool winters – not to mention the slight to the ego – white hair was better than no hair. That was, to use Dr. McCarty's ineloquent jargon, a no brainer.

Vanity be damned before he would be another Aro, however! That man's greasy black coif was no more natural than his collection of polyester blazers – fresh out of the 70s.

No, Edward determined that the situation unfortunately warranted far more expertise and subtlety than Just for Men or worse, that strange spray paint-like substance some men chose to employ.

With a visible shudder and involuntary noise of frustration, Edward ventured that a consultation with a professional colorist would be required to successfully remedy this disaster. And that would likely entail a trip to an actual salon as opposed to the rather pleasant atmosphere of his usual, distinguished, and rather stately barber, Garrett.

Salons were… unpleasant. They smelled like a cross between a chemical factory and a drawer of his mother's lavender (both in color and in scent) potpourri. They were also noisy, filled with too many, too touchy people who seemed to prattle endlessly about individuals Edward did not know and about topics of little import. He knew this. Bella had taken him to hers once. Her salon/spa ranked right up there with Wal-mart in terms of torture.

"Whatcha doing?" a high, singsong voice suddenly blared from the doorway.

His scowl vanished immediately.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Edward said with a grin, white hair encroachment completely forgotten as he turned to address his one and only daughter.

Like always, Beth was dressed, from head to toe, in pink. Not just pink, he corrected after a split-second scan, but the most eye-gouging combination of shades possible. It actually hurt his eyes to look at her striped shirt, paisley patterned short pants (Bella referred to them as capris), and Hello Kitty rain boots. Why she was wearing raingear in the house was beyond him.

For some reason, Beth was wearing her fluffy, sparkly ballet tutu as what appeared to be a headdress, too. Or perhaps it was a crown, Edward couldn't tell. Like her shoes, his daughter's choices in head apparel were always mystifying.

Regardless, Edward beamed because in spite of her horrendous fashion preferences and propensity to destroy his eyes (and ears), Beth was… well, perfect. Just like her mother.

"Are you a princess today?" he asked, motioning for her to come in.

"Nope!" Beth half yelled. Wearing a grin that could stop his breathing, she skipped into the bathroom, headdress flouncing, and began climbing up on the stepstool by the sink.

"Not the top step." Without conscious thought or direction, Edward automatically latched onto Beth's waist, halting her eager ascent and limiting it to the more reasonable (and safe) third step. He'd already had enough minor heart attacks over these last few years, thank you very much, and applying first aid to one's own crying, screaming, bleeding little girl was a special kind of hell that he'd just assume never, ever experience again. He'd almost required psychological committal the last time.

One brow cocked. "If not a princess, what are you then?"

"I'm getting married!" Beth squealed, giggling and pointing to the sheer pink fabric that hung past her eyes. "It's a wedding hat!"

Edward's eyes widened as a lead weight splashed in the pit of his stomach. His initial response was a big, fat, resounding, The hell you are! But, of course, he refrained because cursing at children was unacceptable in all situations, even serious, life-threatening (his) ones such as this.

Instead, fighting the natural downturn of his lips, as well as the urge to lock her in her room forever, he attempted reason." "But I thought you were, ah, going to be a scientist and work in a lab like me? You'll be too busy using my, erm, your microscope and doing, um, experiments! Scientists don't get married. Ever."

Beth just giggled again, shook her coppery curls like he was the one who was four, not her, and being the pint-sized genius that she was, pointed out the glaring flaw in Edward's logic. "Momma got married."

"Ah, well… um, yes. But… "

"I'm marrying Will! And we're going to experiment stuff together just like you and Momma!"

Edward choked.

"He's a Astra Physic like Mr. Jasper and… and he's got a lab coat like me! His is blue, but mine's better because mine has my name on it and it's purple cause Grandma got it for me and she likes purple… And Daddy! He has a telephone and he lets me play with it!"

"Telescope," Edward muttered. He was going to kill Jasper the next time he saw him.

"See my rings!" she squealed.

What?!

Sure enough, when Beth held out her little hand, there was a massive, ruby-colored, gem-shaped rock on her forefinger. It was so large that it covered up two of her fingers and stuck up at least an inch and a half off of her hand. Strangely, it looked wet.

Edward nearly hyperventilated when she stuck the whole thing in her mouth.

"It's a sucker!" she laughed around the rock still in her mouth. Eyes glittering – an uncanny likeness in both appearance and habit to her mother – she then grinned and offered her sucker/engagement ring. "Have some, Daddy!"

Horrified on all fronts, eyes glued to the sticky, sugary, and, no doubt, bacteria-laden object proffered, Edward blanched and just resisted the urge to pull it off her finger, deposit it in its rightful home – the waste basket – and dunk her bodily into a pool of Purell. He didn't dare ask how long she'd been wearing that thing around, occasionally sucking on it, and in the process consuming every bit of the filth attracted and attached to it – dirt, debris, all varieties of viruses and microscopic organisms.

Ugh!

Whatever candy maker had deemed this edible toy a good idea was clearly wrong. He made a mental note to place a call to the FDA.

Slightly green, Edward asked, "Ah, Beth, where is your mother?"

"Silly Daddy!" she giggled, swinging her arms and smacking the sucker/toy on the counter. It left a bright red, sticky spot. Worse than those godforsaken Cheetos! "She's working!"

Fuck.

Of course, she was.

Because Dr. Caius was the biggest motherfucker in the state of New Jersey.

Hence why Edward was standing in the bathroom and getting ready on what was supposed to be a vacation day in the first place. And being the apparent slave to his wife's will that he was – and perhaps after a mind-bendingly coercive blow job last night – he'd agreed to fill in for her volunteering obligations and, as such, in no less than three hours, was slated to judge, of all things… an elementary school science fair.

~O.o~

"Dr. Cullen!"

Nervously, Edward palmed the back of his neck and stared at the strange, bedazzled woman who'd nearly flown out of the building to greet him. In the mid-morning sun, wearing what looked to be some kind of sparkly v-neck shirt, which as an aside, in Edward's opinion, was far too low cut and far too tight across her more than ample tits, the dark-haired woman in front of him vaguely resembled a disco ball. There were rhinestones on her baseball hat and even decorating the pockets of her jeans. And on her nails.

And was that glitter on her eyelashes?

By Edward's estimation, she looked more like a craft project gone wrong than a science teacher.

Worse, she was staring at him!

And while doing so, she wore the oddest expression he'd ever seen. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he silently corrected. He'd seen that expression more than a few times over these last few years on various women and had never quite discerned its meaning or cause. When he'd consulted Bella on the matter, she'd simply laughed. Okay, and then she'd stripped, stripped him, climbed on, and fucked him blind. But as that was pretty much their… norm, he doubted the two things were correlated in any statistically significant way. Hence he had only been able to conclude that the observed behavior of said women had something to do with some abnormal state in estrogen level, never mind the fact that his texts indicated nothing of the sort.

Regardless, lips parted in what he could only call a slack-jawed smile, the woman's sparkly (literally) eyes were wide, glassy, and…were now utterly fixated on him.

She looked drunk.

Or, perhaps she was high.

Ether could easily produce such an effect, he mused, frowning, as well as a variety of other solvents. And she was a science teacher. Well, supposedly. The sparkles certainly put that to question. But elementary schools had laboratories, correct? Albeit elementary ones.

Yes, that had to be it, Edward concluded with a quick nod, satisfied by the soundness of his logic. If Beth had her own laboratory – pink, of course, because everything she owned was pink… or purple – a school certainly would. Clearly, their exhaust hoods were in need of repair. Once this dreadful event concluded, perhaps he would investigate as such a situation was indisputably unsafe.

When Edward's nose wrinkled, recalling the countless instances during his graduate days when he himself had nearly blacked out from fumes mid-extraction, the woman extended her besparkled hand in greeting and cooed, "I'm Ms. Meyer, the sixth-grade science lead. But please, you can call me Stephenie."

Yes, she was indeed high.

For a long second, Edward fidgeted and shifted in place before reluctantly accepting her hand. "Ah, right." Obviously slow from the chemicals, she held on too long for comfort, which, admittedly, was anything longer than zero seconds for anyone other than his wife or daughter. With a poorly contained grimace, he quickly slid out of her grasp, stammering, "Yes, well… I'm… I'm Edward. Cullen, that is, and you see, my wife…"

"Oh, no worries at all, Dr. Cullen." She was still cooing, reminding him vaguely of those horrendous gray and white feathered flying rats that defiled city buildings and statues. "I knew who you were the second you got out of your car."

Really?

"Right…"

"Mrs., I mean, Dr. Swan called me last night and said you were coming. We're just so glad you're here." The emphasis on "so" was bewildering and not at all what Edward considered to be normal speech patterning. Between that and the cooing, he feared that the ether had damaged her brain function.

But then again, social exchange wasn't exactly his area of expertise. At all.

Except with Bella.

And Beth.

And maybe Jasper. Fucker.

And okay, perhaps sometimes Dr. McCarty. As long as he refrained from calling him dude, that is.

Ms. Meyer, still eyeing him, asked, "So have you ever judged an elementary science fair before?

Certainly, Edward was often requested to evaluate his peers' efforts, and frankly, he found them most often to be… lacking, particularly Dr. Black, who routinely came up with some of the most absurd, banal attempts at organic synthesis he'd ever seen. How that man completed his thesis remained a mystery. But children were… different.

His lenses slid down his nose. "Erm, not really?"

Leaning toward him, far too close for comfort, Ms. Meyer grinned. Her eye twitched, too, yet further proof of his ether theory. "Well, it's very easy." Alarm bells clanged when she placed her hand on his forearm. "I'm sure you participated at least. When you were a kid, right?"

"Um, yes," Edward mumbled, quickly sliding to his left and away from her too touchiness. Naturally, he'd participated. How that was even in question was baffling, and borderline insulting. Not only had he participated, he'd won.

Every single year he'd entered.

And district level.

And state, three times.

In fact, the only reason he'd lost state that fourth time was because one of the judges was an idiot who didn't understand the fundamentals of protein conformation and breakdown! Not that he was still bitter over that.

But he didn't say that because from what Edward had gathered from his limited dealings with lay people, saying such things wasn't exactly well-received, never mind that it was fact and truth and had nothing to do with ego. Really, from everything he'd observed, effective and successful interpersonal communication between most people was, in reality, little more than confusing exercises in lying and withholding. Needless to say, Edward found the entire concept tedious and unnecessary, not to mention nearly impossible for him to predictably and successfully execute. Scientists, at least, understood the concept of data. Life was much, much easier in black and white.

"What was your favorite experiment?" Ms. Meyer drawled, interrupting Edward's moment of abstraction.

"Ah, I'm sorry, what?"

The woman giggled, which shook her shoulders, which in turn, made her poorly contained tits bounce. Decorated as they were by her… sparkles, a spray of rainbow-colored reflections danced against the black of his tie. Edward wondered if she apprehended just how disturbing that was.

"What was your favorite science project? I bet you did some really cool projects."

His brow folded, not really understanding why she'd want to know such a thing or really what that had to do with his purpose here. But since she asked, never one to be discourteous, Edward thought for a second, contemplating how much one should share in such a situation, before finally answering. "Ah, well, I… studied acid resistance of typical enteric coatings and then used the data to predict potentially superior formulations."

That was simple enough.

"You did what?"

Perhaps not.

"Right. Yes, well… you see, some… substances, for instance certain nitrogen heterocyclic ring compounds, are… preferentially absorbed in alkaline environments… erm, such as the intestinal tract and are… ah, chemically unstable… in acidic environments, such as the stomach. See, stomach acid is quite… corrosive, having a pH of around… 1.5 due to hydrochloric acid secretion from the… parietal cells. There are other components, too, like enzymes and salt. And of course, the overall pH depends on the individual. For some, it can be even as high as 3! But well, ah, that's still quite acidic, you know..."

Scratching his chin, Edward paused for a second, forcing himself to resist the more intriguing tangential concept of enzymatic degradation. He doubted Ms. Meyer had the background to follow that particular line anyway. Dr. McCarty didn't even grasp it! Well, then again, that wasn't so surprising.

Smiling, pleased that she seemed to be interested – she was still staring after all – he went on, "Regardless… see, such medications, like the azoles I mentioned, require protective measures… so that, well… so that the drug is actually delivered as designed. That's, erm, where coatings come in... Does that make sense?"

She just continued to stare.

He took that as a yes. "Right, so companies that make drugs… ah, like mine… they often use polymer-based coatings to… um, protect the active chemical. " He waved his hands in his habitual haphazard fashion. "And yes, certainly the coatings are tailored such that they enable time release. But that was a little beyond my skill level and background at the time, so I didn't really… explore that aspect." He frowned. "But yes, that's what I studied. The coatings that is… And well, I aimed to develop causal statistics for certain variables in order to predict potentially better formulations."

After a long moment of silence, Ms. Meyer made a strange choking sound. "How old were you?"

"Thirty-eight?"

"No," she muttered, biting her lip. But it wasn't in the sexy, "fuck me until I can't walk and then some more" manner in which Bella often employed. No, Edward feared this woman would actually cause herself bodily harm via excessive chewing. "Not now. Then. When you studied… that."

Right.

"Ah, thirteen?" He didn't understand her question, but he didn't miss the abrupt nebulous sense that she was less impressed or interested and more… frightened? Confused? Or… something. Emotional assessment wasn't really in his skillset. Clearing his throat, Edward tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening it just enough to allow an extra breath of air. And then he rushed, "But I don't really do that kind of work now… instead I just focus on the actual active ingredients and well, the pharmacokinetics portion. Obviously."

She looked at him blankly.

Fuck.

Twitching, forcing a smile and trying to undo what he now understood to be yet another episode of word vomit, he said, "Really, my study was only mildly successful. But it was… ah, fun."

Lay people like that phrase, right? he thought.

There was a long pause before she blew out a loud breath of air. "Well…. Okay then!" With a loud clap and a pair of eyebrows plastered to her hairline, Ms. Meyer motioned Edward toward what he could only assume was a gymnasium. "I think you'll be fine, Dr. Cullen…. Just don't be surprised when you see a lot of jello and volcanoes!"

"Right, yes." He nodded. "Jello… and volcanoes." Midstride, Edward suddenly halted, his face pinching in instant bewilderment. "Wait, what was that?"

~O.o~

"Open your mouth," Edward ordered, sliding almost effortlessly into that very particular, commanding voice and persona that he could only ever assume when they were like this. After today's endless stream of horrors, both at home and at the… science fair… this was exactly what he needed.

Eyes dark, lidded, and languorous, Bella stared up at him from the floor and instantly complied, licking her lips before parting them. Apparently, she needed it, too. Or perhaps, she was merely horny, which was quite possible seeing as how she… always was, particularly these last couple of weeks. Not that he was complaining.

Slowly, he circled her, trailing his fingers along Bella's bare shoulders and back, teasing, drawing it out as long as possible. When she made a quiet whimpering sound, his already hard cock strained against the confines of his pants because she was so eager – always so fucking eager. Without even asking or checking, Edward knew that her pussy was already wet. He knew that she was struggling to keep her knees apart and that it was all she could do to not squeeze her thighs together in search of some kind of friction and relief. Behind her back, the handcuffs rattled.

With her shoulders back from being bound, tits pushed out and on display, on her knees, and looking up at him the way she was, his wife was the most arousing, erotic creature that he'd ever seen. As far as Edward was concerned, no woman on the planet could ever compare, and it took everything he had to not pull her up, bend her over right then and there, and bury his cock deep inside her. And God, he wanted to taste her tonight – that wicked, perverse flavor of copper, salt, and Bella while he filled her pussy up.

Later, Edward reminded himself, reaching down to adjust his cock. With Beth at Rosalie and Emmett's, tonight was playtime.

But fuck, his wife's body was perfect, he mused, cataloguing each and every inch of her naked flesh, as he completed another slow circuit. Heavy, plump tits – which, as if to drive him to lunacy, she routinely and wrongfully lamented were sagging… they weren't. Hard, pink nipples that belonged in his mouth and between his teeth. That perfect heart-shaped ass that fucking begged to be spanked and squeezed. Slim, shapely thighs. Those round, curvy hips that fit his hands like they'd been made for them. And her pussy. God, her pussy. So tight, like a goddamned knot, and always, always so wet and hot.

"Fuck."

Like always, knowing exactly where his mind was and being a more than willing participant to the debauchery, Bella licked her lips again and smirked. "Is that what you want, Dr. Cullen? My mouth?"

Cocking one brow, without warning, he popped her ass twice with the black crop he still held, leaving two more little squares of pink. "Impertinence, Dr. Swan. I thought you'd learned your lesson." He swatted her again, craving the loud smack of leather against her skin. "Now open your mouth so I can fuck it."

She whined and jerked against the handcuffs. Those were her idea. A very, very good one. Handcuffs were convenient and easy and portable, unlike rope. Although… rope certainly had its benefits.

"You like that, don't you?" Edward purred, as he unzipped and pulled out his dick, giving it a couple of long, slow tugs before easing forward. When she opened her mouth again, he tapped the head against her tongue. "Such a naughty girl."

She made another sound that made his cock twitch. But then again, Bella always, always responded to his voice as such, matching him thrust for thrust, fuck for fuck. Their compatibility was mind-boggling. Even years and a kid later, he still wanted to fuck her like a goddamned teenager. Repeatedly. Daily. Standing, sitting, on the bed, over the counter, in his lab…

"Take it all," he murmured, mesmerized by the way her red lips stretched around his girth, taking him deeper, inch-by-inch, until he felt the smooth, slick back of her throat. When he looked down, her mouth was flush against his balls. "Fuck, yes."

Really, he marveled. Bella's gag reflex was simply astounding. Or lack thereof, perhaps more accurately. How she could tolerate anything touching her throat was beyond him, but Edward wasn't so stupid to ever question it. He simply thanked every deity known to man that instead of protesting the intrusion of his cock, in evidence of her sheer mastery of fellatio, Bella simply tightened her lips around his shaft. And then swallowed.

With a loud groan, Edward's eyes rolled back, and his hands flew to her head, his fingers winding through her hair, twisting the long strands around his wrist like a leash. Just like always, Bella moaned when he began guiding her, pulling her down on his dick, slowly at first, but then harder and harder, gaining both speed and depth with each stroke.

"More. Harder. Suck it harder," he grunted, rocking his hips forward, faster, as he pulled her closer. Twisting her head as he moved in her mouth, tonguing the heavy ridge of his head, her cheeks suctioned down on his cock. "That's it. Oh, God…" He damned near convulsed when she added her teeth. "You want my come in your mouth, don't you?"

Never ceasing the mind-numbing, sliding friction of her mouth, Bella nodded.

"Fuck, I love your mouth."

But he didn't want to come down her throat. Or rather, not yet. Maybe the second round, he considered, barely coherent from the tension building in his abdomen. Or the third.

Abruptly withdrawing, Edward lifted Bella from the floor, spun her around, and bent her over the armrest of the sofa – a piece of furniture that while seemingly innocuous was, in reality, one of their favorite fucking locales. The height of the armrest was perfect, it was cushioned for longer rounds, and when he had Bella folded in half across it, the angle presented her ass like a trophy.

Edward sank to knees and spread her thighs. Reaching up, he slid one long finger between her pussy lips, stroking from her clit all the way to her ass before returning back to her clit again. Her legs tensed when he pushed two fingers inside and began slowly, ever so slowly, pistoning in and out.

"You're wet, Dr. Swan," he hummed. "Such a pretty wet pussy. It makes me think you like sucking me off." He pushed his fingers in deeper, crooking the tips to locate the spot that made her squirm. "Is that what makes you wet? Having my dick down your throat?"

"Fuck." She bucked against his hand when he found said spot.

Grinning, Edward grabbed her bound wrists and then kneed her legs wider apart. "Want me to lick your pussy?"

Bella garbled something that he assumed was an affirmative. Articulation wasn't exactly her strong suit in such situations, hence he'd become rather fluent in grunting.

His fingertips grazed that spot deep inside again, making her whimper and arch her spine. "Say it, Dr. Swan. Tell me what you want."

Her voice was low and breathless and so fucking sexy. "Make me come."

It really wasn't a question at all. Or a request. More like a demand, and one that Edward was more than happy to oblige. Making his wife orgasm was pretty much his life's ambition after all. "You want my mouth or my cock?"

Before she even uttered a response, not stopping fingering her, Edward leaned forward and licked the line of her slit, from her clit to her ass, lapping at the wetness that he'd caused. Inside, he did a silent fistpump in victory because he! had done that! And at that very moment, Edward decided that nothing was better than eating her like this – bent over, bound, and at his every whim. It made his aching cock throb.

She jerked against him. "Please… oh, God, I can't…"

Every time Edward tongued her clit, Bella writhed against his mouth, moaning, grunting, begging him for more, for his cock, for anything that would make her come. She screamed when he added a third finger.

And then with little to no warning at all… she orgasmed, in almost record time, too, which made him want to stand up and take a bow.

Instead, leaving the bow for later, Edward stood up, framed her hips, and without any preamble whatsoever, pushed into her tight, hot pussy.

"Christ," he muttered, stilling and raising his face toward the ceiling. All around his cock, her walls were still pulsing from the aftershocks of her orgasm, rhythmically constricting and rippling. As tight as she was – yet another mystery of the universe considering the frequency of their coupling – the sensation damned near made him come on the spot.

Sweat beaded across his forehead. Taking a gasping breath, he pulled all the way out and then pushed back in. Dropping his gaze to where they joined, watching the way his cock slid inside of her wetness, the way her nails bit into the meat of her bound hands, the way her back arched into an even tighter "S", urging him even deeper, Edward gripped Bella's hips and thrust harder, hard enough to make her lift off the armrest, moving in sharp, forceful motions that rammed his head into that same sweet patch of rougher skin. Over and over, he hit that spot until she fucking wailed, screaming a nonsensical stream of curses and pleases and Oh my God, Edward!

"You want it harder, Dr. Swan? Does that sweet pussy want more?" he ground out.

"Fuck me, Edward," Bella cried in time to his thrusts. "Oh my God, yes, yes… fuck, yes!"

With a grin and an ecstatic laugh, he happily gave it to her, moving his hands to from her hips to her shoulders for leverage. In no time at all, never mind that she'd orgasmed less than thirty minutes before, he felt her muscles begin to spasm.

Not stopping his motion, Edward leaned over her body, licking his way up her spine before again repositioning, curling his arms under her shoulders and pressing his chest to her back. Nipping at the smooth span of her shoulders, just enough to leave a handful of tiny red welts, he murmured against her skin, "Do you want this, too? Please say you do. I want to taste you."

With a long, loud groan that tightened his balls, Bella's head instantly lolled to the side, presenting herself up like an alabaster platter. "Bite me," she panted. "God, yes… bite me."

Never one to be told anything twice, Edward clamped his mouth down onto muscle. He bit slowly, taking his time, reveling in Bella's keening cries and the way her hips slammed back against him. When his teeth finally broke flesh, she screamed his name and her pussy spasmed around his cock, constricting into a tight knot that nearly stole his sanity.

As always it happened when they played this particular game, the taste of her, the heady scent of their sex, her screaming his name, the slickness of her skin sliding beneath his, the muscles shuddering and stroking his cock… it was all too much. Sucking down those sweet drops of coppery salt, Edward's hips rocked forward, pounding into her repeatedly until with a last hard thrust, he shot deep inside of her, and the world went black from the force of his orgasm.

Minutes, hours, or maybe it was days later, Edward finally pealed himself away and dragged Bella down onto the sofa where he immediately released the cuffs and began rubbing away any lingering soreness. Per their normal procedure, he carefully sanitized the mark on her shoulder and applied the requisite Band-Aid. My Little Pony this time – Beth's… hopefully. They were pink.

"God, that was good," Bella breathed, slumping against his side. Nodding, Edward managed a tired grin and then reached over to the table for his lenses, wincing when the room suddenly came into sharp focus.

"How was your day, by the way?" Bella asked, yawning and lazily squeezing his middle. "You didn't really give me much chance to ask when I walked in, so I'm assuming… interesting?"

"Ah," he started, crinkling his nose. Interesting was not the word he'd have chosen. "Right. That's… a word for it."

Bella's shoulders shook. "That bad, huh?"

He blanched. "There was jello, Bella. There were at least ten replicas of volcanoes, which…" He paused and grimaced, recalling the most disastrous #10 entry, which had managed to spray an entire section of the gymnasium with chunky fruit salad/orange jello. Which wasn't even the right color for lava! "You know, they really shouldn't be allowed at all."

"Why? Because they're messy?" Of course, she laughed at that.

"That isn't the issue!" With a slightly indignant huff and scowl, Edward explained, "They're… they're not really science experiments, you see."

"What?"

Scratching his neck, Edward considered the quandary of these various… volcanoes. He settled on the obvious. "They are… demonstrations. Not experiments. Experiments, as you know, involve… well… experimenting something! Investigation of some sort. A question. A… problem. Something! Everyone fucking knows what happens when you mix baking soda and vinegar! There's nothing to study!"

Bella smirked. "So, what you really mean is that they're messy."

Right.

"Really!" he exclaimed, sitting upright, waving at the wall. "It's… just not… right. Oh, and don't get me started on all those godforsaken magnets. And… and the solar system replicas." That last one came out as a spit. Jasper was still going to die. "What do they teach in school?"

Bella nodded. "How boring."

"Exactly!"

Then she laughed. Again. And louder. And then erupted into a fit of giggles, which had Edward not been so thoroughly aggravated at the concept of so-called science in elementary school, he'd have smiled at her amusement. Even if he were the cause of said amusement. As it were, he was still bewildered by this entire "science fair" experience.

"It's not funny," he mumbled.

"Yes, it is… I wish I'd have been there. Did you meet Ms. Meyer?

At that he truly did scowl.

And of course, that meant yet another fit of laughter. "Well, were there any projects that you did like?" she asked. "And please don't tell me you failed them all. They're kids."

"I should think not! But… yes, there were… perhaps three. One in particular. One boy…" Edward's brows lifted. "His name was Benjamin. Well… he put together a rather intricate and detailed computer model of DNA. He was… investigating potential, ah, conformations of the helices. Certainly, he was missing a few key pieces of information… but that was rather impressive!"

Rather pleased that that boy had won, Edward grinned. "I gave him my card."

Bella jerked. "You did what?"

"I, um, I told him I'd show him my lab… that's acceptable, correct? He's certainly not a corporate spy. And he seemed, well, very pleased. And clearly very smart. I suggested to Ms. Meyer that he… not take her class. Ever. And I… well, I offered to, ah… develop a more… appropriate curriculum for him."

"You didn't."

Edward frowned. "It's really better for him that way. She said she would consider it. You know… I think she uses drugs. Or huffs ether intentionally. At first, I believed that perhaps they had a malfunctioning hood… But did you know that they don't even have a lab?! How is that even possible? But yes, she behaved very…. strangely."

Bella simply stared at him then, lips twitching, eyes glittering in very, very poorly disguised amusement.

His frown deepened, not understanding his wife's reaction at all.

Which reminded him…

"Oh, and… um, we need to talk about… Beth… She… she has an engagement ring. Well, it's not… it's a sucker. But still! She's saying it… Did you know this?" He winced, imagining the villainous gem-shaped thing that he'd been unable to pry from his daughter's finger without her crying. Beth had excellent lung capacity.

"Let me guess, Will? They're inseparable."

More seriously, Edward mumbled, "I don't like it." Because, he truly didn't and had spent the last several hours trying very hard to not think about it at all. Or ever.

"What? Why?"

His stomach flipped. "She's… four, Bella. Four," he explained, looking away. Softer, he asked, "Where… where did the time go?"

When he glanced back, his wife's eyes glittered again, but this time Edward didn't believe it had anything to do with amusement. "I don't know. She's growing up so fast, isn't she?" she sighed, raking her fingers through his still-damp hair, reminding him yet again of the veritable field of white now taking over the copper-brown. Perhaps not taking over, he corrected. But still. White hair was… undesirable. Bella sighed again.

Fast was an understatement of the highest order.

And Jasper still needed to die for breeding his daughter's would-be childhood fiancé.

"Well, and I suppose now would be as good of a time as any to tell you…" Edward froze when Bella hesitated and then smiled a strange, enigmatic smile before leaning up to whisper in his ear. When she pulled away, he turned, wide-eyed, half-horrified and half-elated – no… mostly horrified – and just stared at her while his stomach took a sharp, spiraling, all-too-familiar nosedive.

"You're what?!"

And now we're truly at… THE END