Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things Twilight-related.
Author's Notes: Beware of clichés. Rated M to be safe. This little short has been on my hard drive for a few months now; I keep going back to it, wondering if it's post-worthy. Since I am still wrestling with my Muse over two much longer forthcoming Carlisle/Bella stories, I thought perhaps a bit of humor was in order. It's a bit odd, but so am I. ;-)
Many thanks to Carol for her insightful comments and suggestions. All mistakes in the final draft are mine alone.
My insides are all aflutter with anticipation when he enters the bedroom, a wicked gleam in his eye. Oh, he's a looker, my Carlisle, roguishly handsome yet delightfully refined. I can't wait to wrap myself around him, to caress that beautiful face and body with all my soft curves and planes.
It's been so long since we've been together-an eternity, it seems. I really miss him when he's away. His scent, so potent and intoxicating, does linger, but only for a short time before fading into nothingness.
I want him.
I crave him.
Deeply and thoroughly, with every fibre of my being.
I tremble when he begins to undress, his gaze raking across the length of me. The corner of his mouth tugs into a grin that nearly melts me on the spot before he suddenly stops the show and disappears into the next room.
Carlisle, please, you're killing me!
I hear water running. A shower...
I can wait a few more minutes, I suppose. He always looks so sinfully innocent with those blond locks of his all mussed after washing. And the shampoo he uses-spice and cinnamon. I love being immersed in spice and cinnamon. Oh, hell, I love being immersed in Carlisle, period.
He is my own personal God, all chiseled muscle underneath soft, cool skin. I worship him shamelessly, and will for all eternity.
Ahhh, there he is. A towel hangs low on his hips as he emerges from a cloud of steam. A few rivulets of water slowly lick their way down his chest, winding through the sparse hair there before stealing behind the lush fabric for a sneak peek. I'm quite green with envy. Oh, Carlisle, I've been waiting so long! Take me! Own me! Let me cradle all of you tonight in my warm softness!
Wait a minute...
Carlisle, who is that woman in the hallway?
He stops dead in his tracks when he finally notices her half-hiding behind the door frame. She gazes back at my Carlisle almost shyly, wearing an oversized button-down shirt like a dress and worrying her bottom lip temptingly. Holding out his hand, he offers her a gentle, reassuring smile.
He gathers her in his arms when she's near enough, the two of them drawing closer...closer...until their lips finally meet.
Carlisle, no! NO! Not again!
I watch in horror as he unbuttons her top, sliding it off her shoulders slowly, deliberately, all the while never breaking the kiss. She's wearing absolutely nothing underneath. When she moans, a soft, needy sound, Carlisle deepens the kiss and sweeps her off her feet, heading directly towards me.
The feathers in the pit of my stomach churn. How dare she! He's MINE!
Two seconds later, the back of her head hits me square in the face, her long brown locks thoroughly obscuring my vision. I hear her squeal delightedly as the weight of another bodily impact shakes the whole bed, but the laughter quickly dissolves into a breathy whimper. Skin against skin with warm wetness in between...they're kissing again. Oh, how could he do this to me? Can't he see my adoration, my absolute, unequivocal devotion?
Heartbroken, my resolve kicks in. I firm up, preparing to fight back.
And suddenly, she's lifted from me and I can see again. He's always been a strong one, my Carlisle. Kneeling, he pulls her up until she's straddling his hips, their bodies poised to join.
No. I can't watch; this is just too much! Yet, I can't look away either, so mesmerized am I by what I see.
In a moment of breathless silence, he braces one of his arms around her and turns his beautiful gaze upon me...
YES! Forget about her! Bring those pouty lips and that exquisite body of yours to me, Carlisle, and I'll show you the true meaning of sensual temptation! I can cradle and caress like no other!
Oh, yes, YES! His cool fingers stroke, then grab me. Ooooh, you want it rough? I can handle that. Squeeze me again, you hot piece of heavenly love! Give it to me!
Carlisle! What...what are you-? Why are you pushing me into the bedcovers? Wha-!
NO! DON'T YOU DARE!
Before I can even fully expand again, he lays her down on top of me, my contours molding to the small of her back. She's light, but the slow, painful compression I feel tells me she's no longer the only one whom I am supporting.
A tiny gasp, then a louder, deeper one. Focused pressure, building until they both groan and begin to move together. A slow give and take, gentle at first, then increasing in speed as they grind against each other, the bed frame protesting in raucous counterpoint.
I have never in all my years felt so horribly, horribly used! Why, Carlisle? First the one with the caramel-colored hair, and now this...this dark-haired floozie! Am I not good enough, not round or full or soft enough for you?
The air around us is colored with the sounds of their mounting pleasure. I am ridiculously squished as they rock together, shamelessly using me as the fulcrum of their lovemaking. And when they finally crescendo, shuddering and screaming wordlessly, my devastation is utterly complete.
As I'm trying my best not to listen to their quieting pants, I feel Carlisle stiffen suddenly and whisper, "Bella!"
Bella? Is that her name? It's actually a rather pretty one...
"They're returning!" he finishes urgently.
In a flurry of frantic activity, they both fly from the bed, with Bella grabbing her clothes and fleeing down the hallway. Carlisle is showered and dressed in just a few seconds, but he lingers in the room, straightening things here and in the bathroom with extra care.
AHA! So, this tryst is to be hidden from everyone else, is it, Carlisle?
I. Think. NOT!
No sir-ee! The next time you bring one of your beauties here to play, perhaps I'll have a few things to whisper in their ears too! I'm sure they would be very interested to know who else shares this bed with you. How would you like that, Carlisle? Hmm? We'll see how much they...
Guilt suddenly washes over me as he glances in my direction, the saddest expression on his face. I can't help but sigh. Oh, my darling, Carlisle, you're breaking my heart! I can see how conflicted you are, those golden eyes of yours pleading silently. Your spell weaves its magic on me once more. Of course I will keep silent. For you, anything!
I will wait patiently, as I always have, for you to come to me again, to take me in your arms and rub against me until both of us are breathless and sated. It will be our secret, my love.
Acknowledgment: A long time ago in a fandom far, far away, an amazing author named L.R. Bowen wrote an even more amazing story called, "I am Chakotay's Pillow." While the general tone of the two are markedly different, it is from this bit of Star Trek: Voyager fannish lore that I've shamelessly borrowed the idea for this short. Trust me, mine pales in comparison. ZZ