Chapter 7: Scary Monsters
Rated M for lots and lotsa Bedward lemons. As Edward once told Bella, in a really bad Transylvanian accent, "Never a quickie. Always, a longie." So he liked the movie 'Love at First Bite'. Who knew? As for you, you like lots and lotsa lemonade, right? Of course you do. So as we say 'farewell' to this fic, I'm giving you a chapter that's extra-long. Like Mr Ed. *cackles*
2old2care Beta'd me for this chapter. She really stretched my muscles. Thanks, Boston. I love you big time.
Oh, she says I need an award for this lemon. Hint hint...
If you don't understand my wicked sense of humour by now, you never will.
Squee! Visit me on Facebook, and see some new pics of Bedward. Links are on my Profile.
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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental.
The opinions of the author do not necessarily coincide with those of her characters.
I didn't make a playlist for this fic, as you'll likely get another pov in IH, but I've put the music on the IH4 playlist if you want to hear it. The hyperlink is on my profile.
"Smiles" (1917): Lyrics by J. Will Callahan, 1874-1946, Music by Lee S. Roberts, 1884-1949
"Hello Ma Baby" (1899): Arthur Collins
"Twelfth Night: Feste's Closing Song": William Shakespeare
"Yessir, That's My Baby" (1925): Kahn and Donaldson
Thanks to masozravapalma for interesting discussions about the Greek language. I used Google Translator in this chapter, just for fun, my dear :) Any errors in the Ticuna are my own. Hey, only 40, 000 people in the world speak it, so whom might I ask for help? I try, eh?
Thanks to everyone who has given me feedback this week. It has been phenomenal! Love you for reading. I hope you enjoy the last chappie of this little Hallowe'en romp. Please let me know.
The pleasure of your company is requested at "I Hunger". Bella and Edward are hanging out there. They are about to leave South America, and visit Jacksonville/Forks before moving to Hanover to attend Dartmouth. Before you know it, Bella will be giving birth to Ren. Won't you follow their adventures?
A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, But that's all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day. (Feste's Song)
Monday, October 31st, 5am:
Edward follows Bella down the hall to their room. He is almost skipping. Before the wedding, he considered purchasing a corset for Bella, but he was nervous of her reaction. There's a whole group of feminists out there who rant against restrictive feminine clothing, and he didn't know at that point how Bella might feel about it.
Instead, he bought her not one, but three, identical black, stretch velvet and Lycra chemises, designed to look like a corset and miniskirt. She loved them so much, he's considering buying one in every available colour, in enough numbers to last all of eternity. He may even buy the designer. Her designs, that is. Since Bella likes to drive him crazy with nice undergarments. And to ice the cake, Bella told him she'd wear a real corset if he wanted to buy one for her.
He was considering something in a nice, pale blue, accented with white lace, maybe... some tiny pink roses. Then, Bella got pear-shaped. In a big hurry. Hah. So much for that. For now, anyway. But along came Toddy with a garment Edward had no idea even existed. And Bella looks delectable in it.
"I love my life," Edward whispers, elated, as he watches his wife's minxy ass enter his bedroom. He puts his palms against it and rubs. He just can't help himself.
Bella turns, and links her hands behind his neck, and they dance to an old ragtime song that he sings so softly, no one but them will be able to hear:
"Dearie, now I know Just what makes me love you so,
Just what holds me and enfolds me In its golden glow;
Dearie, now I see 'Tis each smile so bright and free,
For life's sadness turns to gladness When you smile on me.
"There are smiles that make us happy,
There are smiles that make us blue,
There are smiles that steal away the tear-drops,
As the sunbeams steal away the dew,
There are smiles that have a tender meaning
That the eyes of love alone may see,
And the smiles that fill my life with sunshine
Are the smiles that you give to me.
"Dearie, when you smile Ev'ry thing in life's worthwhile,
Love grows fonder as we wander Down each magic mile;
Cheery melodies Seem to float upon the breeze,
Doves are cooing while they're wooing In the leafy trees.
"There are smiles that have a tender meaning
That the eyes of love alone may see,
And the smiles that fill my life with sunshine
Are the smiles that you give to me."
Edward nuzzles Bella's hair, cherishing her, breathing her scent, and they continue to rock from foot to foot together, incidentally massaging Ren between them. Every once in a while she nudges at her parents, thinking contented, curious, simple thoughts that make her father's heart sing.
No salsa dancing for her parents now! Not for at least three weeks, assuming all goes as planned.
"Hey, Dr Cullen?" Bella asks softly.
"Yes, Mrs Cullen?" he asks in a silly, low 'doctor' voice that sounds like it belongs in an old, over-acted movie.
"Is it true that intercourse can induce labour?" she blinks, poking her daughter's attention-demanding little foot back down into her insides.
Edward sniffs a musical laugh, and rubs her tummy. The foot comes back to meet his hand. After tickling it, he pokes it, and it again retreats. "You're not giving birth tonight, Dearest. It would definitely not be good for Tigger," he frowns, concealing a self-satisfied smirk.
"But, does it?" Bella persists.
"Usually not for first time mothers. If dilation has started, assuming the membranes haven't ruptured, or in your case, cracked, it can speed things along. The cervix has to be thinning for it to have any chance of working. But there's no penetration allowed after the membrane cracks, because of the risk of infection. So I wouldn't count on trying, okay?"
"Oh," Bella sighs. Too bad.
"There is some evidence, however, that an orgasm induced during delivery can take away pain," Edward lilts, grinning crookedly.
"Are you telling me you want to rub my clit in front of Carlisle?" Bella says, eyebrow raised.
"Scratch that," Edward says soberly, brooking no argument.
Bella tugs him over to the bed. As he passes it, he tugs the sheet that's suspended from the ceiling, bringing it down. They kneel on the floor and dig curiously through their basket. Some items are on the bed already, because they noticed them before Bella pulled out the corset, but there's still a lot of stuff in the basket that they haven't had a look at yet. "How 'bout this, Mocha-chino?" Bella asks, pulling out a black leather domination harness similar to what Toddy's fetishists sported.
His eyes drop shyly. "No."
"Oh, come on!" she hisses. "Why not?"
"You're too sweet for leather and studs," Edward blurts, and blushes silver.
"Um, I don't think it's meant for me," she winces.
"Jeez Louise," he moans, taking it from her to examine it. One can almost see the wheels turning. Edward doesn't want to dress like one of Toddy's gang.
Sure enough, there's a built-in thong. No hole in it, but still. It's pretty ... kinky for somebody who was a virgin only a handful of months ago. Not that he doesn't have about 90 years of TMI in his brain that he's trying to assemble into something useful. Or several somethings useful.
Bella picks up part of the harness to show to him. "Look, it has lots of spring-hooks on it. And rings. It would make it easy to restrain you," she coaxes. Not that anything can really restrain him. He can get out of anything if he wants to. Even duct tape.
"Um, well ... yeah," her mate concedes.
"And the belts would give me plenty of places to hold on, or push you down," she adds.
"Yeah," he says again. His dick, Mr Ed, decides it's time to rouse. "Okay, we'll keep it."
"Edward, what are these?" she asks innocently, unzipping a black leather carry-case. Inside, there are three surgical steel objects, about a foot long, with different diameters and bulbous ends. They look really ... strange.
"Holy!" Edward yelps, grabbing the case and shutting it. He tries to hide it, while Bella tries to see. Mr Ed hides in fright.
"What are they?" she insists.
"Alice has gone around the bend," Edward declares.
"Tell me something I don't know," Bella says. "Like, what those are for."
Edward pinches his eyes shut, and sighs. "I-"
"You've Seen people use them?" she asks.
"You don't want to know, Minx," he avows.
"Tell me, or I'll ask Alice," she threatens.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! You're so-" he begins, flustered.
"Curious. I'm so curious. Thanks for noticing. Now, give," Bella demands, grinning evilly.
Edward sighs a long-suffering sigh. "They're Sounds."
"Sounds?" Bella says, brows arching.
"Urethral Sounds. They were invented as a medical device many moons ago. To -you might say- sound out the depths of women who had problems with urethral blockage or infection. Stuff like that. Apparently women found it incredibly painful. And then some guy got the bright idea to stick one up his dick. Now I ask you, who does that sort of thing? Who gets up in the morning and says 'hey, I'm bored. Let's see what I can stuff up my dick'. Who does that, Bella?"
"Someone you know, obviously," Bella says drily.
Edward slaps his hand to his forehead, and squeezes his eyes shut.
"So they're for guys to stick in their dicks. Why?" she asks, unrelenting.
"Because the end can be pushed right into the prostate," he says, blushing. If the Volvo were here, he would blend right into the paint.
"Oh," she nods, her mouth in a very appealing 'o', her eyes glinting with humour.
"Don't even think about it, Minx," Edward snaps. "The Talking Horse is not deep-throating anything. It's bad enough that he has a name and an opinion."
"Then why did Alice give them to you?" she asks, arms folded.
"Because she's an insane fairy?" Edward gawps, getting his knickers in a knot.
Bella relents. "Okay, Love. Relax. I'll just ... put them away."
"Thank you," Edward says, and forces tight muscles to unwind.
"I take it we are skipping school today, Mocha-chino," Bella remarks. Tugging the tie out of her hair, she works her braid loose.
"You betcha," Edward says happily. "You don't need to go to class. English Lit is a breeze, and I can help you with your Greek," he leers.
"Promises, promises," Bella sighs, eyes rolling.
"Soon as you're more durable," he says, giving her the puppy-dog eyes.
"Yeah, I know," she sighs again.
"Only 21 more days, Love," he reminds her.
Bella's face lights up. "Are you excited, Daddy?"
"Of course," he declares, giving his wife one of those 'you've got to be kidding me' looks. They fall into each others' eyes. Sappy dates.
"Mou aresei Hellenika (I like Greek)" he flirts theatrically.
His wife snorts. "I noticed," she winks.
"Agapó̱ ti̱ sýzygó mou (I love my wife)," he adds, fluttering those long, bronze eyelashes.
"Agapó̱ to sýzygó mou (I love my husband)," Bella responds through pout-y lips, that just beg for a kiss. So of course, he obliges her.
Bella sighs a little, yawns hugely, and wilts. Wha...?
Oh, noes! Is she tired out? Her sleep is irregular now, but she still needs it.
Oh well. Edward can wait. He has forever to love her. Even if Mr Ed does think he's seventeen, and should get attention yesterday-like-now.
"Bella? Do you need to go to sleep, Dearest?" Edward asks solicitously, holding her hand between both of his, even though it half kills him to ask.
"Um, Edward?" Bella winces regretfully, turning to face him.
"Yeah?" he winces uncertainly back.
"I'm starving," she admits, pinching her eyes shut with a big sigh.
Oh, I am neglecting her, he laments. Been thinking with the wrong head, obviously. "Oh, Bella. It must be because of all the excitement tonight. You've burned up your calories. I should have thought. Here, let me get you a snack."
Edward moves quickly to their closet, opens the door, and kneels. On the floor is a small fridge. He reaches in for a bag of the animal blood they stash for emergencies. "I'll have it warm for you in no time, Love," he promises. And squawks in surprise. The world has tilted on its ear.
It spins several times, and everything goes crazy.
When Edward collects his senses, he is unable to move a smidge.
"You..." he growls. Will he ever get used to how fast Bella can move now?
His minxy mate, muscular and dextrous as a newborn, rubs noses with him, grinning. "Gotcha," purrs the cat who is planning to eat the canary. Several times. She backs up, her hands blurring as she finishes her task.
He moves his hand ineffectually. He could break the bondage ropes, although they've discovered that it's harder to break the soft, stretchy ones, but really, why would he want to? He relaxes back against the St Andrew's Cross, a subliminal growl thrumming in his chest. He looks at his wife admiringly. She's so hawt when she takes charge.
Bella walks around her husband, smoothing a small, pale peach hand down his chest. His right hand is extended to the top of the X-shaped cross, and the soft, black, brushed cotton rope, a hundred feet long, coils around and around his muscular arm. It zig-zags from shoulder to waist and wraps around several times. From there, it crosses back up a few times to the shoulder, and passes behind his neck, and down the other shoulder to his waist, so that the ropes make an X across his chest. Then, it goes back up to secure his other arm behind his neck. He is unevenly bound. It will keep him from becoming complacent.
Bella remembered what she was taught. She knew how to do it, after seeing it done only once.
Bella's memory is ... expanding.
"No knots, Minx?" he smirks.
"You like tradition, right? That Domme told me that using knots to administer punishment was frowned upon in ancient Japan."
"I'm being punished?" Edward blinks.
"Why?" he whines.
"Are you joshing? You took me to Toddy's. Are you telling me not to discipline you? Do you think you don't deserve it?" she blinks, wrapping the rope around itself so that the end does not come undone.
"No, I mean yes, um, oh. Can you rephrase the question, please?" he stammers.
Bella pouts. "No. I'll tell you outright. I'm going to discipline you for taking me to Toddy's fetish party."
"Yes, Mistress,"Edward says sheepishly, and starts to purr.
Edward's black eyes follow his wife. His dick is drizzling already, glued inside his denim thong.
"Dom Cullen," his mate teases, walking away from him.
"Yes, Mistress," he answers, wondering what she's doing in the closet. Ah, the spreader bar. And now she's stopping to dig inside the parson's bench for the black leather ankle cuffs. Ooh, ya! Twitch. Twitch. Ow. Twitch. Ow. "Mistress?" he grimaces.
"I, um, ow. Could you please help me? The thong. It's... hurting," Edward blinks, trying not to writhe at all.
Bella comes to do an inspection, and gives her mate a good fondle. "Poor Mr Ed. Is he trying to get out, and he just can't do it without ripping some denim?"
Boing! Yeah, that teasing is really helping matters. "I think I used too much adhesive," Subward winces.
Bella tucks a fingernail under the edge of the H-string, and gives a little tug. Edward flinches, trying to man up, and not squeal like a sissy in front of his wife. He's not that much of a Sub, thank you!
"Fast or slow?" Bella asks coolly.
"Red!" Edward yelps, melding himself to the cross. Forget looking macho. Hard limit, reached.
"Then what do you propose?" Bella wonders, trying her darnedest not to smile.
"Um, some glue remover? Spirit Gum remover, maybe?" he asks nervously.
"We seem to be running a little short on Spirit Gum remover," Bella says smoothly.
"And I don't recommend lighter fluid for flammable creatures. How about some WD-40?"
His sensitive nose wrinkles. Just what he wants to smell like. Very romantic.
"Wait, I know just the thing," Bella announces, leaving the room. He hears her open the bathroom cabinet. Then, she's back, holding a bottle of nail polish remover and some cotton balls.
"Acetone," he says, relaxing.
"I'll have you free in a minute or two, Sweetheart," she promises. But she doesn't, because Edward used one hell of a lot of glue. Luckily, he has married one very patient woman.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, things are back to normal. That is to say, they are pale, silvery, and erect. Although they're hairless, which may take some time to get used to. Snickers. Bella takes the gooey cotton away, and returns with a very hot washcloth, which she uses to finish cleaning off her mate. He is rather enjoying all the attention, thank you very much.
"All done," Bella grins.
"Thank you, Dona Bella," Edward says, his voice gravel and velvet.
"Any time. You alright there?" she asks as she checks that there's still a finger-width of room between his flesh and the restraints. It would be time to remove a human from uneven bonds. A human would be writhing in pain by now.
"Mmm-hmm," he confirms, smouldering.
"Good. Dona Bella is going to go and have her snack, now," she smirks. "You be a good boy, and don't break my ropes."
"Yes, Mistress," he moans patiently.
Bella collects her blood bag and goes out to the kitchen. Edward hears her puttering around on the stove, and soon, he can pick the heady aroma of warm blood out of the air. It's a tricky business, warming dinner. Heat it too fast, or too much, and the nutrients and flavour will be lost. It is a full ten minutes before Bella saunters back into the bedroom, bearing a large, thick glass mug with the Cullen crest engraved onto its side.
The minx stands in front of Edward, sipping. He watches her with stormy eyes, wondering what on earth she is thinking.
She swallows, and licks her lips. "You thirsty?" she wonders.
"N-no," he stammers, blinking rapidly.
"Liar. Say, 'Yes, Mistress'."
"Yes, Mistress," he says sheepishly.
Bella takes a mouthful of deer blood, and presses her mouth to his. He opens, and allows the warm fluid to enter him. Their tongues tangle, and he enjoys the taste of Bella and blood combined.
"Like it?" she asks throatily, and licks at his throat, erasing the green tendrils of vine that she had drawn there earlier.
"Yes," he gasps. "With your venom in it, it tastes almost like your blood used to," he tells her.
"Mmm. That's what I thought would happen," she says. Before long, they have shared the whole thing, kissing each other into a heightened state of awareness. She sets down the empty cup.
Edward waits for Bella to get busy. But her eyes are dancing. She is planning something.
"Still okay?" she checks.
"Yes, Ma'am. You can't hurt me with this. It feels weird, and I can't seem to relax, but it doesn't hurt. I'm not human," he reminds her.
"Good," she says, stepping away from him.
Wait. Huh? Where's she going!
Bella walks over to the other side of the room, and picks up a small, rectangular side table. She puts it right in front of Edward. Then, she walks the two yards to the end of the bed, and gathers up several items. She sets them out on the table, with surgical precision, and Edward gets impossibly hard. Then, she takes off her wedding rings, and leaves them on the table.
Bella looks at her display thoughtfully, and picks something back up. She steps in front of Edward, and unsnaps the fasteners on it. "You okay with this?" she asks softly.
"I don't know. If it hurts, I'll safe-word," he promises.
She takes the funnel-shaped, black, studded ring, and secures it around his body above his dick and balls, as she saw the Domme at Toddy's place do to her Sub. Dangling from the leather ring are three heavy, silver, eight-inch-long chains, joined together at the bottom with a metal ring. Bella produces a small weight, and dangles it from the ring. "How's that?" she wonders.
"I can't even feel it," Edward shrugs.
Bella adds several small weights to the ring. When it weighs more than five pounds, her husband grunts and nods his head. Then, she sets the weights swinging back and forth between them like a pendulum. Edward groans, and his eyes roll back in his head a little. He appears rather limp for a guy who 'can't relax'.
"Well, that wasn't the reaction I was expecting," she says frankly.
"Me neither," he grunts. "So good. I thought it would hurt, but it ... Oh, ffffuuuuck... It's like your hand, milking me."
"Mmm. You're pretty to watch, Dom Cullen," Bella says, the tip of her tongue resting on her upper lip. "Now. I want you to do something for me."
"Yyyess, Dona Bella. Tell me what you require," Edward moans.
She stares forcefully into eyes that plead. "I want you to think about all of these objects, and what I'm going to do with them. And I want you to fantasize about things we've done together, and things we haven't done yet that you want to try. You are to remember that you are mine. When the weights stop moving, you can get them swinging again. You're not allowed to do, or think about, anything else. Understood?"
"Okay," he says, a little perplexed.
Bella picks up the weights again, and gives them another good swing, causing Edward's knees to buckle for a second. Then she walks away from him, and shovels the rest of the items into their basket. She walks to her side of the bed, and picks up her alarm clock. Turning it away from him, she sets an alarm. Then, she walks back. His eyes are locked on the apex of her thighs.
"You belong to me," she says authoritatively. "Cum for me. Now."
As usual, his head knocks back against the wood, and he shoots his load with a guttural roar. Teeth clenched, he trembles in his bonds, using every inch of willpower he possesses not to break his promise, and burst out of the ropes. Panting, he brings his eyes up to his wife's in time to see her playfully lick her fingers. "I will never get used to that," she chuckles. "You are such a stud."
"Thank you," he says, thrilled to bits that a very seventeen year old bodily reaction delights his wife. She kisses him softly, and he tastes his own sweetness on her.
"Fulfil your orders," she tells him, and he manages to refrain from rolling his eyes at her. Yeah. Like he could forget.
"Yes, Ma'am," he drawls.
Then, she does the unthinkable. She turns out all the lights, and crawls into bed.
"Edward?" she murmurs.
"Yes, Love?" he answers, doing his best not to whine.
"If you're good, and do as you're told, I am going to listen to whichever fantasy you wish. And then, I am going to make your reality much, much better than anything you can dream up."
He can dream up quite a lot, he thinks. Twitch. Twitch.
Within moments, Bella is sound asleep. She is exhausted. He can hear it in her breathing.
Edward begins to castigate himself for not taking care of his wife and child. He's been running her ragged, he realizes. He took her not to one, but three parties, and then assumed she would have the energy to play with him. How selfish! Not thoughtful. He feels guilty and remorseful. But suddenly, he stops short, and shakes his head 'no'.
He is not allowed to do anything, but think about lovemaking. Sex that he and Bella have had, and sex they have not. He promised. And experience has taught him to keep his promises to Bella. Always. So ... no putting himself down.
Where to begin? Um... at the beginning?
So... once upon a time, there was a hundred-plus year old boy who went to school one day (boring, boring, boring) when he saw a stranger. Across a crowded room. And boy, she was hot. And suddenly, he was hot. And bothered. And he'd been cold for so long. But damn if something wasn't awake in his pants. He went to the john to check it out, and shot his first load since 1918. Messy. And way addictive. More addictive than her blood.
Suddenly, Mr Ed was talking to him after almost 85 years of the silent treatment. How great was that! And he really, really wanted Edward to talk to the beautiful girl with the big brown eyes and the minxy ass and the tits (yeah she had the best tits) just made for him.
He kissed her in her bed. He kissed her in his meadow. He danced with her in his bedroom. He danced with her at her Prom. And oh, dancing didn't even come close to the experience of her sweet, tight pussy. Took him sixteen months to get brave enough to touch it, but hey, he did, right? And he's getting Ren as proof of that. Hah.
Bella in Niagara in the bath: Holy. She smelled so, so good wet. Always better wet. He made her cum just by touching her nipples. And she touched him. Fuck, he never knew anything could feel so good, and that was mild compared to the touches they share now. Mere months ago, neither of them had ever experienced an intimate touch. They were too insecure to talk, and too embarrassed to make any noise. He'd have sooner pulled out his own eye teeth than tell her anything he wanted to try.
But experience and talking have led them to comfort. It's all down to Bella. She knows how to draw him out. She makes it safe to tell her things, and he reciprocates gratefully. She doesn't make him feel dirty, and she plainly enjoys seeing to his satisfaction just as much as he treasures fulfilling her. Bella is the one who does it for him. She's his mate. Resistance was futile. Who wants to resist now? Not him. He's very happy now. Look at the goo goo eyes on him! And on Bella. He put that look there. Nobody else.
Here, in the dark, silent room, he ponders the past in light of the present, and is struck by how much life has changed in a very short period of time. He is standing tied to a cross on the wall, for heaven's sake! The soft ropes are like a cocoon: they warm and enfold him. They make him feel secure. Safe.
Bondage heightens his awareness, and make him long to touch his wife. He is not allowed to hold her while she sleeps, or caress her to alertness. His fingers unconsciously trace her form, touching only air, as he thinks about showing her how much she is loved, and remembers things she has done that made him feel wanted and important.
Back in July, she beat him off. A few days later, she sucked him off. The night before their wedding, they shared a high ride, and then, he almost took her, but he didn't spoil things by doing it, after having waited so long. Instead, she held his cock against her burning pussy and squeezed his tip, and slid back and forth along it until he couldn't take it any more. He made her back away so he couldn't hurt her, and they watched each other stroke themselves off. Fffuuuck. He came so hard he dented the hood of the damn car he was sitting on.
The memory of that alone is enough to drive him mad. He stops the swing of the weights dangling from the ball stretcher by clasping the chains between his thighs, and pants, resisting his excitement. He slows things down.
He has two personal goals, designed to make him a better lover, that he has not shared with Bella. He's been working on them for a while. First, he doesn't want to be prematurely ejaculating every five minutes like a young boy . He knows she didn't care, because he didn't need time to recover, but it was a bit distracting on their wedding night.
Second, he wants to make their bond so safe and nurturing, that neither one of them need feel inhibited. That is something that he knows Bella wants too. It goes without asking.
After a few minutes pause, Edward feels the urge to climax pass. He can go back to fantasizing, confident that he will not expend his pent-up energy alone. He's saving it for his mate. Delayed gratification makes his experience with her better.
Edward remembers how they tiptoed out of their own wedding reception after he discovered she hadn't been wearing any underwear all day. They set about doing as little damage as possible to the Minx, and as much damage as possible to his bedroom. Just to piss Alice off. An epic bout of cock-sucking in the tub did not a small amount of damage to the bathroom fixtures. And tiles. Esme had not been amused. However, she did get the last laugh, because she got to replace everything with gaudy stuff she knew he would hate. At his expense. Back to the subject, Edward. Focus.
He had, to Bella's great delight, thrown all her hairpins at the ceiling, where they stuck in the drywall like the spines of a hedgehog. Her laughter had been his triumph.
They had to get up and go back to their guests, but Jacob showed up and made a scene, which gave them another excuse to sneak back upstairs. To cheer up. They made sure to take advantage of every second of their limited time. Strawberry edible oil all over the Egyptian cotton sheets, not to mention various parts of their bodies. Sixty-nine? Oh, yeah. Bella's tongue laved his balls. Circled his glans. And he gave as good as he got.
Maybe she'll do it tonight.
He whimpers, shifting his weight, looking past the display of toys to gaze longingly at his wife. Her dainty silk-stockinged foot sticks out of the blanket. The only other part of her that he can really see is her dark hair and one cute little ear.
A growl thrums quietly in his chest. Back to the memory.
Ravenous for each other, they left cum on every available surface, plus clothing, littered about, that should probably have been burned instead of cleaned and preserved. He can still, to this day, smell their jizz on Bella's wedding dress, despite the dry-cleaning.
But they weren't about to consummate the marriage in a hurry. Or where anyone might overhear.
Probably took his family all day to wash the towels, he reflects gleefully, as he looks down with not a little smugness at his silver-headed cock. Mr Ed is quite the fellow. Who ever guessed he'd become so important? Edward snickers, humming Feste's Soliloquy to himself under his breath, as he continues to run through his accomplishments:
"When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man's estate, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut the gate, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came, alas! to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, With toss-pots still had drunken heads, For the rain it raineth every day."
Shakespeare knew everything about love. Too bad nobody had seen fit to make him a vampire. The world of mythical creatures could have used him, Edward reflects. He thinks about what fun he and Bella have had, since learning about physical love.
Wrecking his room had been almost a rite of passage. He remembers how and Bella left the mess, plugging up the much-abused toilet with her stocking and his socks. And then, he had dropped in almost the entire grocery-bag-full of colourful packets of condoms that were given to them by the kids from the high school. Easily a hundred of them. And flushed the toilet. He and Bella cackled with glee as it filled to the brim with water and debris. The ruined faucet was still dripping into the tub. He knew it would overflow, too. Payback for all the years of teasing. NO, not gay. NO, not asexual. And within a day, he was about to lose his virginity, thank God!
He remembers how Bella walked into his bedroom on that Big Day, and returned with the graduated set of white, sparkly dildos that were given to her by the Denalis. She took them out of the box, drooled into their suction cups, and arranged them neatly and symmetrically on the back of the tub surround. He blew up a few more condoms (red, green, blue and yellow) and decorated the rooms with them.
He could still hear her coyly announce,"I'm saving these for later," indicating the (ahem) members of the set that were vibrators. She carried the box nonchalantly back into his room while he wrote notes to his family all over the mirror, tiles and toilet seat with her eye pencil and lipstick. He thought it would be a long time until the white-sparkle sex toys would get used. His little lamb wouldn't be enough of an exhibitionist for that.
But now? Hmm... maybe she would. She is, after all, just full of happy surprises.
Especially when it comes to sex.
Who knew she had Fake Edward, the g-spot stimulator? Grrrrr. Real Edward remembers the first time he saw Bella release an ocean of squirt. And other times, she used it on him. To tickle his cock. Even to penetrate. His kaleidoscope eyes swirl with a mix of colour and blackness.
Bella smells bloody good right now, all warm and contented. Edward shifts his feet. He is off-kilter. He devoutly hopes this little stunt of Bella's won't damage him. He doesn't think it will, though. He feels ... mentally off-balance. Antsy. He can't settle. Sex. Think about sex. Want. Need. Ungh! With a swing of the hips he sets the weights on the ball stretcher in motion. Holy crap that's amazing.
Oh, if he puts his mind to it, he can almost feel the whisper of Bella's silk wedding dress. The groom crawled up that clingy, white skirt right in front of Charlie Swan and lived to tell about it. He gathered her wetness on his fingers and took a little taste. Of course, Charlie didn't know how many times Edward had cum over the course of the nineteen months previous, either. Often, in Bella's bed. Not that she knew. Before August, anyway. After August, she certainly had (ahem) a hand in it. Or two. Sometimes a tongue.
Firsts. First airborne cum. On the way to Rio she stuffed her hand down his pants and jacked him off, so he finger-fucked her on the plane. How hot was that? Wonder Bella had any energy left to consummate the marriage.
But they did.
It may have been a little hesitant, a little fumbling, but it was everything they both needed. It was tender. And loving. And his hardness melded with her softness and made something new. Wonderful. Before they knew it, she was gaining vampire characteristics. Unbeknownst to them, she was already pregnant.
Edward's eyes are large and black as he stares at Bella. Her blanket has slipped off and he can see the triangle of her white underwear peeping out from between scissored legs. She's lying mostly on her side, with a pillow against her chest. Edward scents the air, and venom pools in his mouth. How long 'til her alarm goes off? How long will she sleep? Edward is torn. She needs her sleep. He wants her awake.
He must not wake her. It wouldn't be right.
Seconds take an eternity to tick by.
Past events keep him entertained, but unsatisfied. Loving on the beach. In the bed. Wildly on the floor. Gently in front of a fire. Whispers in the shower. Guttural screams in a thunderstorm. Roughly in the trees. Standing under the trees. Tangled in the surf. Vulnerable on the rocks. From behind, on the kitchen counter. Tag in the jungle. Languid massages by a river. Basking naked in the sun. Watching in a mirror at a hotel. Surrounded by tall grass in the Meadow. Christening every room in the cottage. Sixty-nine-ing by the hot springs. In the car. In the mountains. On the car. On the roof of the school. Groping each other in a dark corner at a bar. Bella flogging him on the spanking bench. Having a quickie in the university library. Heh heh heh heh heh. And they thought he was a prude? Not.
Edward watches Bella sleep, finding himself fixated on her mound. He wants to kiss it. He wants her to lick him. Lick off his body paint. Teabag his balls. Rim his ass.
The weights swing, concentrating the wonderful pressure against his prostate. The stretcher pulls on everything he has. He leans his head against the crossbeam behind him, and does his best to relax. Bella didn't say he could cum. She said the only thing he was allowed to do was fantasize.
Bella's breath and heart rate change. Is she waking up? No. Going into REM.
"Mmm," Bella groans in her sleep. Edward focuses on her, praying she will not have a nightmare. If she does, he will have to break the ropes and go and comfort her. And that would be a shame, because she obviously has plans for him.
"Mike!" she moans.
Grr. Dream Mike had better not even think about laying a fingernail on his little Minx. Edward stiffens indignantly. Hah! He's jealous of a figment of Bella's imagination. Snort.
"Go fuck Jessica's tits. She likes you. She wants to have your splooge in her bra. Nah, she thinks splooge makes tits grow. It does not. It makes babies grow. Just ask Mr Ed. No. Go make your own baby. No, I'm not helping. You both want to be purple elephant drivers when you grow up and I want nothing to do with that. Let me be, before Edward tears you a new orifice. That's a hole. Duh. Real Rhodes Scholar. Go apply to Mensa. Now, if you will excuse me, Mr Ed is the size of King Kong and he's singing to me right now."
Edward beams, sunshine after thunder. His little pear hasn't had a dream this funny since they went to Niagara. He'll have to write this one down, for sure.
"What's-he-singing?" Bella garbles. "No, not his theme song." There's a pause. Then, she sings, in a really bad French accent, perfectly in tune. " 'Yessir, zat's my baby, no sir don't mean maybe, yessir, zat's my baby nooooow!' "
Ragtime. He taught her that song. Edward leans weakly against the cross, quietly dying of laughter. Oh, isn't it darling! She never sang in her sleep for him before. And he's missed recording it, to play back to her. Rats!
Bella is tone deaf. She can't sing a note when she's awake.
Well, at least Edward can't ever forget it. And he has an idea. A kind of fun, flirty idea. He wonders if she'll know where it came from.
The sun has risen, casting weak, white November light through the filmy curtains.
Edward waits, thinking...
"Mmm," Bella moans again, and his ears prick up. "Oh, Edward. Yeah. Uuuungh. That's it, Baby. Mmm... more. Faster. Yeah! Give me 110 percent."
Oh, yeah. He can do that. Any. Time. Minx. Wants.
"No more excuses. Bite me when we cum. Ow, yeah. Make me yours," she says loudly.
Well, that ain't gonna happen. Sadly. Even if the idea is hot, it's impossible. He can't speed along her transformation until after Ren is born, and he very much doubts she's going to want him anywhere near her pussy when it's time to do that. Probably lose his life in the attempt.
Ren is worth Bella's labour. And having Bella for eternity will be worth her temporary suffering. Edward will let his Minx suffer as little as possible. Then, they can get on with their eternity.
No need to be impatient. Soon, he will have a wife who's as durable as he. Not that she isn't physically stronger than him at the moment (which is really hawt), but a beating heart, and a need for oxygen, mean they can't go all animal when they-
Daydreaming, he envisions the day when they can swim to the bottom of the ocean and do... inhuman things. Maybe on a coral reef. It would give her something to hang onto. Grr-wow.
Maybe he'll take her to Everest. They'll go all the way up, where the air is too thin and the terrain too dangerous for humans. Snow and ice could be fun.
Conversely, a little night-time jaunt to New Mexico or Arizona might be just the ticket to ride. Mmm. Some wide open expanse, where there's nothing for them to break if he chases her around and slams her into things. Which he has every intention of doing. Over and over.
Best not think about that now. She's too vulnerable.
"Mmm-unhh," Bella moans, arching in her sleep, and her hand creeps down to cup herself. Oh, shit! She's going to... It's been far, far too long since she... and he's a stalker, right? Long since come to terms with that. He sets the weights to swinging again. Oh, so good. Come on, Bella. Show me.
The muscles in his thigh quiver, and his breath hitches as her finger dips into her white kid leather underpants. Venom pools as she strokes her clit, her lovely pink tissues swelling under her own touch. She is beginning to stir. Her heart has left the rhythm of sleep. Oh, God, please let her wake up soon, he thinks. Bella rocks her hips against her finger. He can smell her arousal. Hear her wetness. But he cannot see. A frustrated growl bursts out of his throat.
Oh, no! He woke her up. Will she be mad at him? Will she make him wait longer?
Bella sighs, and stretches, taking her finger out of her pants -drat- and runs sultry eyes over her husband. Noting the line of pre-cum stretching from his very silver cock, she licks full, red lips, scoots down to the end of the bed, and sits on it, knees crossed. Tease.
Edward licks his lips, a little nervously, and clears his throat softly. "Did you have a nice nap, Dona Bella?"
"Yes," she says, eyes raking over him, her hair mussed from sleep. "Your shoulder has gone a little livid," she remarks. "Do I need to take you down, or are you still game?"
"Doesn't hurt. Still game," he murmurs, eyes lowered bashfully.
"Is it normal for your skin to go livid if you don't move for extended periods of time?" she wonders.
"Um, it's happened to me a few times," he shrugs. "No big. Sometimes it stings a little, when the cells wake up, but not usually. Nothing I can't handle."
Bella purrs a little. He can see that she's proud of him. "I'm glad to hear that, Love. Now, have you thought about what you want to play?"
"Um, yes?" he blinks shyly.
"Good. Tell me," she orders.
"Um," he gulps. "I was ... I don't know if you realize, but you were ... touching yourself in your sleep."
"Yeah?" she responds, a bit shyly.
"Um... Did you bring the box from the Denalis here?" he asks hesitantly.
She cottons on without being told. "You want me to beat off with one of the dildos while you watch?"
"Uh, one of the vibrators?" he gulps.
"Not Fake Edward?" she checks.
"N-no. Something... bigger," he suggests.
"Okay. And then what?" she asks boldly.
"I want you to lick me all over," he blurts. She nods. Emboldened, he quickly tells her his fantasy. Sharing his fantasy is not something that comes easily to him. Bella is training him to communicate. "Then, I want you to release me, and switch. I want to spank you, and kiss it better. I want to lick you clean of paint, like we talked about. Then I want to take you out of that corset and finish cleaning you up. And then, I want to f-make love."
Bella uncrosses her legs, and spreads them. "You want to fuck," she corrects him, as he ducks his head shyly. Why is he feeling shy? It's not like he's never used the word before.
He peeps up at her. "Passionately," he asserts.
Bella gets up and walks up close to him. "You are an overachiever, Mister... Doctor... Dom... Cullen," she tells him. "You've been a very patient boy. I think you need lots and lots of rewards."
Yay! He'd do a fist-pump, had he a free hand with which to accomplish it.
Bella saunters over to the closet and reaches onto a high shelf. She liberates a plastic storage box, tugs it down, and rummages through it. She pulls from it a lidded rectangular Tupperware container, and tucks it under her arm. "I'm going to wash these," she announces. "Don't go anywhere."
Bella exits to use the bathroom. As she goes out, they smell smoke. Edward tenses. Bella knocks on Em and Rose's door. "Em? Rose? You okay?" she checks.
There is no answer. Bella turns the knob, and pushes their door open. They aren't there. Probably went out through the window. But they left candles burning, and some of them are starting to go out, leaving smoking wicks behind.
"Saps!" Bella mutters. She walks around and blows the few remaining lights out. "It's okay, Love," she calls to Edward. "No fire. Our looney housemates have gone out, but they didn't blow out their candles first. Everything's fine. No worries. I'll be back in a minute to take care of you."
"Okay," Edward calls gruffly, setting his weights in motion again.
With a rush of air, Bella appears before the table of toys, and stands the dildos up like silly, sparkly silicone soldiers. "What's your pleasure, Love?" she asks shyly, running her fingers over them.
"The one second from the end," he says thickly.
"This one?" she asks coyly.
"Ye-ah," he huffs.
Bella crosses to him, and sticks the vibrator up to his face. "Wet it for me," she directs him.
Edward eyes her uncertainly for a second. "I can't. Venom."
"Drat. Sorry, Love. I don't know why I forget sometimes," she says, eyes rolling.
"Human," he smirks, eyes glinting with devilment.
"Shut up, or I won't do it," she teases. He whimpers. "Oh, stop whining!" she chuckles, "I'm only joshing." Bella wets it herself. Back at the bed, she takes hold of their gold comforter and flips it off the bed, leaving cool russet sheets behind. She sits on the end of the bed, and puts up her foot.
"Now. Tell me what to do," she directs Edward.
"Uh, no," he protests, gulping loudly.
"Yes," she insists.
"No," he chuckles nervously.
"Why?" She demands.
"If you do what I say and I'm wrong, it might hurt you," he tells her, blinking uncertainly.
"This won't hurt me, Love."
"It's a lot bigger than Fake Edward, Bella."
"It's not as big around as you," she points out. "You want me to use it, right?"
"Ye-ah," he says slowly.
"Talk to me."
"I want you to slip your fingers in your panties, and ... move them," he says softly.
"Be specific. How should I move them?" she demands.
"Side to side, over your clit. Yeah. That's nice. Now up and down your slit."
"You like watching that, Baby?"
"Yeah. Now um, put in your finger."
Bella does so, still wearing her leather panties. After a few minutes, her mate wants more. "Take your panties off," he orders.
" Say 'please'," she orders back.
"Please," he moans.
Bella slips her thumbs into the sides of her panties, and pulls them slowly down her legs. Then, she puts her foot back on the bed, and leans on her elbow. "Now what?"
"Um, please take your index finger and your middle finger and... put them in."
Bella gives Edward a surprised look, and turns teasing. "You aren't usually this shy with me, Edward."
"No," he admits, peeking at her from under his lashes.
"Feeling self-conscious?" she kids.
"Guess so," he mutters, wondering when the hell his wife got her psychology degree. Too bad she can't write a thesis on 'How to Bring Your Victorian Lover into the Current Century'. It would be Number One on the charts, should she publish it.
"Baby, it's just us. Nobody else is home. Just let go and tell me what you want. Not like I don't already know," she snickers.
Edward looks up sheepishly, and smiles a little. She knows him so well. "I want you to fuck yourself with two fingers," he almost whispers, velvet over steel.
"Mmm," Bella nods, encouraging him. She licks her fingers and lets them creep into her folds. Soon, they are inside her, stroking. Stroking. Oh, she's so wet.
He licks dry lips, and fidgets. "Add a third," he suggests.
Bella tries, but it does not escape his notice that she is having trouble reaching. Her belly is beautiful. Only three weeks to go, but Ren has a lot of growing to do. Bella is going to be enormous. He can't wait to see her like that, but admittedly, the pumpkin is not always easy to accommodate.
"Use it, Love," he prompts. "Pretend it's me, and rub it on your clit. Spread your moisture around. Yeah, that's the way. Umm, yeah. Does it feel good, Bella?"
"Yeah," she moans. She holds the vibrator from behind, making it easier to reach herself, and unintentionally provides her overheated spouse with a better view.
"Put it in, Bella. Slowly. Slowly, that's it. I don't want you sore, because later, that's going to be me, sliding in and out of you. I'm going to stroke in and out of you for hours, and stimulate your gee. I'm going to possess you, Isabella. Body and soul."
"Yes," she moans wantonly. He watches her muscles clench around the vibrator, as her juices ease its languid movement. Thinking about what he's planning, he is thoroughly aroused. The pull of the weights is delicious, but he'd much rather it was his wife's kitty massaging him. However, he can wait. Patience is one of his best qualities. Foreplay is so important.
"Turn it on, Bella. Mmm. I like the way the beads inside spin, don't you?"
"Yeah," she gasps.
"Feels good, doesn't it Baby?" he croons thickly, watching her grip and release the toy. "Rub your clit for me." His sharp eyes catch the glints of light from the window, caught on her moist tissues. He watches her clench and unclench, his cock twitching in response to her siren call.
"You wish you could touch me, don't you?" she moans.
"Yes," he hisses, as his dick grows heavy between his legs.
"But you aren't allowed to just yet," she tells him, eliciting a soft growl from his throat. Not being able to touch her, or himself, is difficult, but he knows the moment is soon coming. He sets the weights in motion again, pretending the resultant pleasure is from her small hand, kneading and stroking. He looses a jagged breath that he wasn't aware he was holding, and starts to purr.
Bella whimpers, and writhes on his bed, and he growls encouragement at her, eyes devouring her alive. As she angles the vibrator to put pressure on her gee, her enjoyment becomes obvious from the small sounds that issue from her throat. The sounds turn into vocalized panting, which grows more intense as she climbs toward orgasm. After what feels like an age, she cries out and bears down, pushing out the toy before it can bruise tender tissues, and sprays a torrent of fluid off the edge of the bed onto the hardwood, narrowly missing the carpet, leaving a puddle beneath her, and drops of ejaculate more than a yard distant.
Edward growls possessively, and his fists clench within his bonds. The only reason he remains stationary is in deference to his mate's wishes.
After a momentary pause, Bella flings the toy away, moving instantly to press herself against her mate's heaving front. They are both panting. His eyes bore down into hers as he tastes her scent in the still air: an alluring combination of Bella, musk, body paint, leather, and silicone. "You enjoyed that," she husks.
"Mmm, yeah. As you did, I am sure," he says, his eyes travelling from hers down to her mouth, swollen and red with desire. "I love it when you do that."
She huffs a laugh. "I noticed." She tips her head back, and draws his lower lip between her own, nipping at it. He shudders, and leans into the kiss as much as he is able, fettered by his own restraint. They both know he will not break ridiculously weak bonds that she has constructed. Nobody respects limits more than Bella Cullen's Victorian vampire.
Edward's limits are something Bella intends to get around. Again. Not break, because his power is dangerous. Instead of breaking through his carefully maintained walls, she will creep over them. She's an expert at it. The minxy little sneak thief robs his pockets before he knows she's even been there. And kisses him after, leaving his head spinning.
Bella has so much fun discombooberating Edward. Unsure of his feet: It's just how she likes him.
His kiss is growing insistent. Masterful. Time to cut him off. Bella draws back with a smacking of lips, and smoulders into his demanding eyes. He lurches forward, and she backs up, her lip curling with satisfaction.
Time to knock all his assembled blocks to the ground, and rebuild them to her specifications.
Bella walks around Edward, evaluating, and tugs at the ball stretcher, making him grunt. She gathers her wetness on her fingers, and smears it on his beard, marking him. His chest resonates with a deep growl that she can feel inside her body, a mix of annoyance and want. Yes, it is time to argue dominance.
Ms Vampdomme turns her back to her mate, the sign of ultimate trust between two predators, and peruses the table. She picks something up, but hides it from his eyes, running her hand over other items on the table so he cannot guess what she has chosen. She listens to him try to govern his breath, and chuckles inwardly. It will be a battle he can only win via complete surrender.
Spinning, she hides her tool behind her back, and walks as close to her quivering mate as she dares. Any closer, and he will be able to peer over her shoulder and see what she is holding.
In a flash, she brings her arm down in a circle, and presses the braided handle against his jaw and collarbone. He flinches, and goes stiff. The long falls of the flogger slither down his front, making him gasp and pant irregularly. He is rightfully nervous of it, although he trusts her never to hurt him. Since their initial accident, she has been most careful not to. But he remembers in his pores what a whip can do. The long envenomed lines on his back, accidentally dealt, are an eternal reminder to his mate of the need to keep control.
Edward's breath blows out in a long whoosh. Head cocked to the side, he looks at his mate solemnly, eyes deep as the ocean, his trust complete. This small girl can crack him like the most brittle glass. He is a diamond barely cut. He is tough on the outside. Hard to penetrate. For a century, a frozen block of ice. Walls constructed to hold a world of pain at bay. Only Bella can thaw him. Only she can chip away the protective shell. Only she knows which cuts will reveal the incomparable jewel underneath.
She brings out his best and his worst, and leaves him altered forever: a beautiful soul whose inner beauty only she can lie out on display. Only parts of it are shown to other people. Next to God, Bella Cullen sees the most of it. The most of him, raw and unprotected. To her, nothing is more beautiful.
They lose themselves in a private bubble, protected from the outside world. Their personal heat flares, warming flesh and minds.
The flogger is white kid, a perfect match to Bella's corset and panties. Its falls are 28 inches long, and half an inch wide. It has at least triple the number of falls of the average flogger. It looks plump, and decadent, and perfectly balanced. In short, it is a weapon of artistry, made by a master craftsman. And it has been gifted to people who recognize that.
Edward is transfixed by the rain-like swishy falls as Bella strokes them through her fingers. Backing up, she rotates her wrist, twisting them. With a lunge, she brings them down on his chest, scraping off blue paint and making him grunt. She does not wield it hard enough to do damage. The whip just tells him that she could hurt him, if she wanted.
Bella brings the falls down again, smack, against his chest, and allows them to cascade down his front, tickling as they go. She repeats this several times, allowing the falls to pass lower and lower until they caress his privates. Intermittently, she uses an infinity pattern on his chest and arms. Occasionally, she lets the falls slither down one of his legs. He shudders, captivated by her varied attack patterns. It is not his bonds that hold him, but her wishes.
Standing before him, she pulls down the falls, then holds the whip down, swinging it between her legs to gently slap the area between his thighs. It clings to the skin, then tugs away with the most gentle pull, massaging him erotically. He lets his head fall against the cross, eyes shut, and lips parted.
"You like that?" she asks softly.
"Ye-ah," he gasps, shifting his feet again.
"Still okay like this?" Bella checks the bindings on his arm. A human would be screaming by now, and circulation would be gone. She resumes the staccato rhythm of caressing strikes.
"Yeah. Don't stop. Please," he moans. So of course, she stops, and he groans and writhes and tries to lean toward her.
He feels needy and unfulfilled, which is exactly how he suspects Bella wants him. Bella steps away, and for a second, he considers breaking away from the wall to have his way with her. With her face averted, which drives him crazy, she leans over the table again to choose something new.
She kneels at his feet. Tortuously slowly, she buckles on the thick, leather ankle cuffs, and carefully shifts his feet farther apart. Edward shuffles unsteadily, feeling dependent as his mate takes a pair of large, heavy spring hooks, and fastens his ankles to the bottom eyes on the cross. Then, she adds two more hooks, and secures him to the spreader bar.
The anticipation is insupportable. He starts huffing like a train that's about to derail. He wonders what would happen if he were to break free and ravish her. Should he maintain his artificially bound state until her victory is accomplished?
Of course, he's Edward Cullen, most probably the most patient vampire on the planet. He won't budge. Indeed, he's purring again, because he knows Bella is about to get somewhere -get him somewhere- interesting.
Bella stands, and gives a tug on the chains of his stretcher cuff, making him grunt and try to shift his weight. He can't move. If he does, he'll break the ankle cuffs, and spoil the game. And he likes to play far too much to do that.
Bella caresses Edward's balls gently, and his breath hitches. She reaches around him with both hands, and unfastens the cuff, removing the weights. She inspects his privates tenderly, and he whimpers a little. Of course, he is fine, but he appreciates it that she always takes good care of him, just in case.
She turns back to the table, and he jerks toward her with longing.
The minx turns around, bearing a large, white feather. She runs it over Edward's body, eyes glinting with enjoyment as his powerful muscles flex and release. She teases him with it until he looks like he's ready to burst out of his skin. Then, she stops.
She puts her thumb over his lips. "No biting," she orders gravely. "There's something I want to try. Keep very, very still."
Edward is nervous, and he nods curtly, clenching his jaw. Moving by infinitesimally small degrees, Bella Cullen leans in to her husband, their breath on each others' skin, and applies her mouth carefully to his carotid. She laves his scars.
"Oh, God, Bella!" he cries in shock. He is hyper-aware of her tongue. He arches back, suddenly, mouth open in a silent scream, and venom pours out of his ducts and drips onto her breasts. Mindful of his instinct to bite, Bella drops to his feet and runs her tongue up his inner leg and thigh, leaving a pale trail of washed skin in the middle of the blue paint she applied nearly a full day before. Edward bites his bottom lip, looking almost as though he is in pain.
"Blueberry's good," Bella says coolly, as though she has not just set his body on fire. She bends forward to lick a line up his other leg. Her only answer is a repressed groan. She sits back and looks into eyes that are raw and vulnerable.
"Edward? Why are you holding back? Don't withhold your pleasure from me. Nobody is home but us, Love. Make some noise, and leave the gentleman outside." Bella zooms in for the kill, wrapping her soft mouth around his balls, and sucking them hard.
Edward screams inhumanly, sounding much like the panther for which his Ticuna named him. He bangs his shoulders back against the cross. It is 4" X 4" oak, and that is all that saves it. By the time he hears its thump, he is back under a semblance of control, panting desperately.
Bella puts her hands on his hips, lapping everywhere except where he wants her to. She makes a circuit of his lower body, never stopping anywhere for long. The body paint melts with her drool, bubbling in her venom, and drips down his legs, and her front, making little polka dots of colour on her skin. Her face is streaky with colour. She climbs up his front, licking where the ropes don't cover. Eyeing him, judging his control, she leans in and licks up the large muscle in front of his right underarm.
"Fuck!" Edward exclaims hotly, and bites his lips, eyes squeezed shut tight.
Bella moves on to his left nipple, tasting the red and white body paint in the center of his chest as she passes. "Yawaruna i mex (The Panther is good)," she tells him, running hands and mouth over sensitive skin, and leaving lines of fire behind.
Bella watches triumphantly as he writhes and gnashes his teeth and pants her name repeatedly. He is barely lucid, and yet he has not let his words go.
"Let it out," Bella barks, and Edward keens, grimacing, and shakes his head. "Hold onto your power and let go of your mouth. I want to hear you!" Eyes flashing, she drops back down and deep throats him, pulling hard.
A snarl rips out of his throat, and then Edward is screaming an incoherent stream of gibberish, mixed with the occasional swear word and punctuated with her name. To her delight, he carries on and on, mindless of anything outside his mate's touch. Heedless of the feral noises issuing from him, he thrives under her ministering hands. She knows he will catalogue every iota of attention and his reaction to it, to be saved and savoured for the rest of his days. Bella squeezes and kneads and swirls and sucks and pumps, until, with a garbled exclamation, he pours himself out into her greedy throat, and sags against his supports, boneless.
Bella stands up, streaked and polka-dotted all over with food colouring, thrilled. Edward's head is lolling on his right arm, his eyes peacefully shut, his breathing slow and deep. If she did not know better, she would think him asleep, or unconscious. But he is only relaxing, as he so rarely manages to do. Whispering her love, she runs a thumb over his full, dark lips, her hand running through the scratchy hair of his short beard. He leans into her hand with a deep sigh, and opens eyes that are naked and unashamed before the woman God designed only for him. He sighs with satisfaction as she begins to carefully unwind his bonds.
His left arm, which has been bent over his head for at least four hours, starts to drop like a stone as soon as it is released. Bella catches it handily, under the bicep, and lowers it gently down. She kneads his shoulder, smoothing the fluid that has collected in his tissues, until the black lividity begins to fade from his chest. He flexes his hand calmly, which assures her that he is not in any pain.
When it seems her mate might regain some control over his limbs, Bella unwinds the other arm and gets to work on the ropes binding his torso.
Edward holds himself against the wall patiently while Bella unwraps him. She knows he will soon be able to enfold her in his embrace, and thank her properly for liberating him from his head temporarily. He looks euphoric. Sated.
They are down to the last ten feet of rope when his head snaps up, black-eyed.
"Oh, shit!" he yelps, raspy-voiced.
"What is it?" Bella whimpers, frozen.
"Holy Moley! We've gone and done it now. Get your robe and wedding rings on fast, and wipe your mouth. Margery called the cops." Edward grabs the remaining ropes, and unwinds them frantically.
"The cops?" Bella hisses, eyes huge and black.
Edward's eyes roll, even under highly embarrassing circumstances. "Our spinsterly neighbour apparently thought you were killing me," he informs his wife, who cannot seem to do anything but take it seriously. Indeed, were it Em and Rose getting in trouble, Bedward would be snickering. Were they in trouble, Em and Rose would be snickering. But they are not Em and Rose. They are the daughter and son-in-law of Law Enforcement, and the arm of The Law is long. For all they know, it will extend all the way back to Forks.
"Bitch!" Bella gasps uncharacteristically.
Their heads whip around as The Knock comes at the door. Both sets of eyes widen, dark and unreadable.
"Go on to the door," Edward whispers. "I'll be out in a minute."
Bella hurries out to the sitting room, running self-conscious fingers through matted hair. Trembling, she rubs paint-stained sweaty palms on the front of her white bathrobe, and extends shaking hands to unlock and open the door. She looks like she's been playing paintball or something. Only the splatters are smaller.
The pair of officers on the front step are momentarily disconcerted, then they slap on their professional masks, standing At Ease. "Good morning, Ma'am. We received a call about some screaming issuing from your domicile."
Bella runs nervous fingers through her hair, a trick she has picked up from her husband. The officers take note of her distinctive engagement ring. "Oh," she says lamely. "Sorry. That, um, was my husband. We were..." she trails off. And redirects. "I'll apologize to Margery. We didn't mean to disturb her."
Mr Robot Cop crosses his arms. "The dispatcher could hear the screaming through the phone, Ma'am."
Bella gulps. Rescue me, Edward! "I'm really sorry. We've only been married a couple of months, and we haven't been alone for a long time and we got carried away. Honestly, we will give our apologies to our neighbour. It won't happen again."
"You won't mind if we check on your husband's welfare, will you Ma'am?" the cop says sternly.
"Uh, no," Bella says, eyes sliding sideways. She looks like a guilt-ridden murderer, attempting to slink away from the scene of a crime. The cops are unimpressed with her compliance. There's definitely something wrong inside. Bella continues to stand in the doorway, blocking it.
"May we come in, Ma'am?" he asks slowly, enunciating extra-carefully with eyebrows raised.
"Uh, sure, sure," Bella shrugs as she backs up, and gestures for the officers to come in.
Edward strolls calmly out of the bedroom, wearing his white, terry robe. He is dishevelled, matted, and... paint-splotchy. He has read the officers' minds, and is already prepared for their squicky determination to search the house for dead bodies. "Hello, gentlemen," he says all velvet and sand, clearing his throat in an attempt to rid himself of 'laryngitis'.
"Mr?" the older cop asks, turning a new page in his notebook, and licking his pencil.
"Cullen. Edward Cullen. And my wife, Bella."
"Edward and Bella Cullen, #23 M- Street, Hanover. You're phone number, please?" the officer asks, recording the information.
Edward gives it.
"Now, one of your neighbours reports that beginning at seven o'clock this morning, and continuing for over an hour, the blood-curdling screams of a man have been disturbing her morning rest. And it was not Margery White who called, Mrs Cullen," the cop says acerbically.
Edward mutters under his breath, "Oh, yes it was."
"You don't need to lie, Officer... Reed," Bella says, reading his badge. "We're very embarrassed and we won't argue with the poor lady about it. I forgot to shut Emmett's window, and the noise obviously carried."
"Obviously," Officer Reed says sternly, tapping his pencil against his notepad. "Does your wife beat you, Mr Cullen?"
Bella turns redder than a fire hydrant. Edward gawps in disbelief, and it morphs into a delighted grin. He has a mental picture of his 5'4" preggie pear standing over him with a bat, decrying his worthlessness and screaming obscenities. He swallows laughter, then his lip creeps up one one side, wickedly. "Only when I ask her to," he drawls archly.
Both cops examine the couple with brows raised. "Uh-huh," Robot Reed says, scribbling in his little book. "So she beats you with your consent?" he checks.
Bella snorts, and changes it into a sneeze. Edward snorts in reply, face lighting like a naughty little boy's. "It's consensual sex, yes. We're of age, and we're legally married. I'm sorry we disturbed Margery. I shall take her some flowers and apologize nicely, later today."
"Yes, sir. Dartmouth. All four of us."
"Who else resides here?" the Officer asks, still scribbling about this beautiful, but odd, pair of kids.
"My elder brother, Emmett, and his wife Rosalie," Edward supplies.
"We would like to take a look around the house, please," the Officer asserts, resting a hand on his holster.
"Certainly," Edward says, looking a little silver. The cop eyes him carefully, wondering if it's guilt that makes this young pervert turn pale. Is he hiding a body? Drugs?
"Basement?" the officer asks narrowly.
"There isn't one," Edward informs him.
Reed harrumphs. "Come on, Thompson," he says narrowly. The pair head straight for Em and Rose's room.
They march around it, making note of the strewn-about contents of Toddy's basket. Reed goes over to the window. Margery's tabby cat is sitting on the sill, its twitching tail wrapped up in a plaster. "Where is your brother, Mr Cullen?"
"Um, I dunno. He and Rose partied all night, and then they went out. Sometimes they go out through the window so they don't run into us," Edward shrugs, realizing too late that it makes Em and Rose sound irresponsible. And kinda sketchy.
"This is your older brother, and he still goes out the window?" Reed snarls. What kind of illicit goings-on are happening in this house of debauchery?
"Um, yeah?" Edward gulps.
"At six o'clock this morning, Miss White put out her cat. It ... screamed, and she discovered it was injured, necessitating a trip to the Emergency Vet. The vet said its tail looked as though it had been stepped on. Any chance your brother might have stepped on the cat when exiting his window?"
"Very likely, sir. I will visit Miss White, and pay any expenses," Edward promises.
More scribbling ensues.
The cops check in the bathroom, finding nothing amiss, and then they invite themselves into Bedward's lair. It reeks of sex and silicone rubber. They notice first that the floor is wet. Then, their eyes drink in the BDSM furnishings, the mirrors, the discarded ropes, the vibrator on the floor, a mug with dregs of something in it that looks like blood, the table of toys...
Officer Reed turns to Bedward, frowning critically. His rookie gawps at everything. Bella's eyes are fastened to the floor. She's redder than a beet. Edward meets Reed's eyes squarely, hiding his nerves. It has occurred to him that perhaps this cop will start paying attention to the goings-on at #23. Attention from humans in authority is never good.
"Where are your parents, Mr Cullen?" Robot Reed asks darkly. Oh, noes. They are in deep doo doo now.
"May I ask why you want to know?" Edward smiles politely, panicking inwardly. He does not relish the thought of this getting back to Carlisle.
"I just think they might want to know how you are behaving in university, Mr Cullen."
Bella snorts again, and gulps her nervous laughter down soberly. If only the cops knew what Dr Teeth and his Lady got up to!
"Um, they're in Washington State. All our parents except Bella's mother live there."
"And where does she reside?" the cop frowns.
"Florida," Bella blurts out. "But she's a free spirit so I doubt you'll get the response you're looking for from her. And Edward's parents are ... never mind." Bella blushes again.
"His parents are?" Reed presses.
Bella clears her throat. "Let's just say his parents would be thrilled to find out about this. They think he's too... bookish."
"You're a good student, Mr Cullen?" the cop drawls.
"Yes, sir. Top grades. I'm in my 3rd year of Med School," Edward states simply.
"Well, let me give you some free advice, son. Keep your nose clean, so you can support your wife and child. Got it?"
Edward gulps. "Yes, sir."
Officer Reed glares at Bella. "Do not ever get carried away, young lady. Domination can quickly translate into abuse. Be careful what you do, in case you ever cross the line and injure him. Charges may be levelled against you. Is it understood?"
"Yes, sir," Bella husks, eyes down. Her face is flaming.
"We're done. I'm letting you off with a warning. If it happens again, you will both be charged with disturbing the peace, and if he is found with bruises, you will be charged with spousal abuse. Remember to keep it under control," Reed says, all snarky. "Let's go, Thompson. I want a donut."
Rookie Thompson, unlike his paunchy, divorced, cranky senior partner, is young and hot. And bothered. He lingers as his partner leaves, waiting until he's sure he will not be overheard. "If you ever want to know what can be done with a billy stick, and some handcuffs, gimme a call," he mutters, passing a business card to Edward. Bella bites her cheek to keep silent, and wonders what Edward is Hearing.
Edward and Bella see him out, shut the door, and collapse, laughing madly.
"What was he thinking?" she chortles.
"You don't want to know. He's a 'Sweet Transvestite, from the Planet Bi-sexual'," Edward sings camp-ly, poking his tongue in his cheek and making a rude gesture with it.
Bella keels over and sticks her feet and hands in the air like a dead bug.
"Mrs Cullen, you are a bad, bad woman, warping me with your evil ways," Edward declares, lying on his belly, on the floor, with his ankles crossed.
"And you like me that way," she smirks, fluttering her lashes.
"So you admit you are guilty of spousal abuse?" her husband demands, pushing up onto his hands and toes.
"Oh, yes, Mr Cullen. I'm a Bad Girl. But you'll have to catch me to punish me," she says coyly.
"Sssswitch," Edward growls, and Bella disappears with a shriek of laughter. When he catches up with her, she is trying to lower the double-hung window in Em and Rose's room without breaking it. Adjusting to vampire muscles is a long process.
"Allow me, Madam," Edward says oh-so-politely. He stands beside Bella, raises an arm gracefully to the latch, and slides the window smoothly shut with a soft thud.
"Show off," Bella grumbles, looking at him like he's something to eat. Oh, she already did that. Hah.
"Mmm," he says, eyes honing in on her mouth. Something catches Bella's eye, and she startles. Edward turns and looks out the window. Old biddy Margery White is glaring from the window opposite, tapping her foot, with her arms crossed.
Edward wiggles his fingers at her with an apologetic smile. She grabs her curtains and closes them sharply. "Oh, boy," Edward mumbles.
"Mocha-chino?" Bella asks tentatively.
"Yes, Dearest?" he says, eyes on the neighbour's window.
"I'm very naughty."
"Yep. You fit right in with this family," he asserts.
"I think I need a spanking," she smirks.
"Mrs Cullen, I'm going to turn you OTK," he smirks.
"On To Kink?" she asks, brow raised.
He tsks. "No, no, Dearest. Over The Knee."
"Oh, help," she grins, and turns to run. Of course, there's not much space to run in an itty bitty Victorian bungalow. He has her in no time, slung casually under his arm like an oversized football.
Bella squeals and wriggles a little, hanging onto his leg out of desperation, giggling like a twelve year old. "Lemme go!"
"Oh. You want me to drop you on your head?" he asks smoothly. "Just because you look like you swallowed a basketball doesn't mean you'll bounce like one."
"You cad. I shall never think of you as a gentleman again," Bella growls, and tries ineffectually to smack at his ass. as she tips practically upside down. She actually puts her hands on the floor and walks on them to keep from tipping ass over teakettle. She squeals with glee.
"Thank you for your assistance, Mrs Wheelbarrow," Edward drawls. "You're making my job ever so much easier."
"Brat!" she snarls, trying to reach the ticklish spot on his inner thigh.
"Admittedly," Edward grins, evading her fingers easily. Not for the first time, he wonders if they should move the furniture. The spanking bench is pretty close to the window. Considering a cop might begin keeping an eye on them, it might not be the best idea to leave it there. He decides to discuss it with Bella. Later.
Navigating the mess, Edward steps up to the spanking bench, and with a sweep of his arm, turfs the abandoned body paints and brushes onto the floor. Grabbing a pillow, he places it neatly on the upper tier of the bench, and arranges his wife on it with no difficulty whatsoever: knees on the lower bench, boobs and head on the upper. Her robe is no more. Shredded. Oops. Carefully, he picks up her dangling pink and blue corset ties, and sticks them under the edge of the corset waist, where no harm can come to them.
Edward takes a long, pale blue chiffon scarf from the drawer of Bella's bedside table, and ties her middle to the bench. None of the leather belts fit around her anymore. He stands back and admires the view: orange and green paint, and a far more delicious bulls-eye in the middle.
"Oh, you big, scary monster! Are you gonna beat me, Dom Cullen?" she giggles.
Edward irons Bella's backside with his palm, and gives one of her cheeks a light smack with his cupped hand. It makes more noise than impact.
"Ow," Bella wails melodramatically. "Why are you punishing me? You like me naughty. Don't spank me, I beg you."
He brings his hand down on her other cheek, frowning mendaciously. "I most certainly will. Somebody has to keep you in line. Getting me in trouble like that. I never got in trouble 'til you came along, Brat."
"Oxo. ¿Õ̴ẽxna (Oho. Is that so)?" Bella drawls. "Speakeasies, and smoking, and gallivanting around with Laurie, and beating up Jane, and wiping out-"
Smack! " Tama (Stop)! One more peep out of your mouth, and you won't sit down for a week," he promises.
"Peep!" Bella teases, peeking back at her mate. A trickle of moisture runs down her inner thigh.
"Grr!" Edward warns, capturing it and rubbing it in.
"Just one question, o apex predator," she begs.
"What?" he pouts unconvincingly.
"I thought you were going to turn me over your knee," she whines.
Smack! "I thought I was going to wait all day to fuck you too, but it seems I overestimated my self-control." Smack!
"Awwwww... ow! Watch it, Naughty." Smack! "Ungh!"
"Mmm. Pot calls kettle," he asserts. Tugging the scarf undone, Edward flips Bella in his arms, sits on the bed, and turns her over his knee. It takes some manoeuvring, since Ren is completely in the way. Bella ends up hanging onto the bottom bedpost for dear life, Edward's knee under her upper body, his other knee under her pubic bone. Ren dangles in the middle, while Bella's toes scramble for purchase on the rug.
"Well," Edward grins. "Lookie here. I can still take you, Spitfire!"
"Edward!" she howls, her giggles threatening to send her to the floor, " You..."
"Are in charge," Edward growls. "Say it, Minx."
"Mmm. I don't think so," she teases. "It's not 1918, you know."
"I've noticed," he says, eyes rolling. "In 1918, I'd have been arrested for all this." He delivers a series of increasingly hard smacks to each of her butt cheeks, and admires their pinkness. He smooths the skin with cool fingers, and his little monster purrs and wiggles her bum at him. Placing his hand carefully at the bottom of her backside, evenly split between her cheeks, he begins to deliver measured taps, hard enough to set her glutes to quivering, but not hard enough to chafe the skin. Bella moans, and her eyes roll back in her head a little. Once in a while, Edward stops to caress her skin, and soothe it, but then he resumes the rhythm.
After a time, Bella moans and climaxes, trembling. Her jizz is collected in his hand. He rubs it into the skin of her back, smearing the orange body paint with his fingers. Playfully, he writes 'E C was here' on her ass. Bella snorts. She's been able to read his 'skin writing' for a couple of months. Edward begins to laboriously undo Bella's corset ties.
"Dyäwë nangecuma (The Deer loves you)," Bella reminds him, squirming ineffectually under his grip.
"Ngü (Yes)," he agrees smugly. Insufferable Little Shit. Tug, tug, tug at those pesky laces, o apex predator. "Dyäwë nangechama, because I give her multiple orgasms within very short periods of time."
"Okay. Uncle," she gasps eagerly, ceasing her escape attempts. "I give."
"What do you 'give', Bella?" he asks, lip ready to curl up.
"You... areincharge," she winces, saying it as quickly as possible. The promise of multiple orgasms, respectfully offered, will cause even the fiercest female to surrender.
Edward flips her onto the bed, and quickly loosens the laces under her belly. When they are all loose, he pulls her gently to her feet.
"I'm glad we established that," he says, cocky in the extreme. In two senses. Hah. Gently, he takes hold of the corset, and pulls upward. Bella raises her arms, and soon, she stands before him, wearing only Rose's thin chemise. Edward skins her out of it, too. "That's better," he croons, slipping out of his robe.
"Arrogant!" she gasps, poking him in the abs.
"Guilty. But can you blame me? I have the minxiest" kiss "most generous" kiss "cutest" kiss "most fun" kiss "wife on the planet. Holy cow. I live for nearly 103 years without really living. And now, there's never a dull moment. How great is that?" he croons, stroking her thick hair lovingly.
"Just... let's not get caught with our pants down again, okay? I wouldn't put it past that stick in the mud officer to call our parents. I don't want to have that kind of discussion with Charlie. Or even Carlisle. We'd never live it down."
"Better one of our fathers than Renée," Edward says solemnly, tracing a finger around Bella's paint-covered aureola. "Forget about it. As long as we don't attract attention, I don't think Reed will bother us. We're just going to have to be more circumspect from now on."
"Mmm," Bella nods.
"It's my turn to give."
"I have no problem with that kind of gift," she promises, looping an arm around his neck.
Edward sits on the bed and draws his wife between his knees. He has been curious about one thing for almost 24 hours: how is that black tarantula going to taste? He draws Bella's nipple into his mouth, and swirls his tongue through the thick paint eagerly. And recoils, shuddering.
"What's wrong?" Bella blinks nervously.
Edward snatches up her ruined robe, and spits out black ooze, face screwed up comically.
"Oh," he shudders. "That looks much better than it tastes."
"What flavour is it?" Bella asks, kinda blown out of the water by the intensity of his reaction. There are certain flavours he doesn't care for, like anybody, but he's never actually spit one out before.
"Oh, Sweetheart. Black licorice is something a lot of people don't like. I didn't know that was the flavour, or I would have recommended against it," she laments, stroking through his tangled mop of hair.
"Yuck," he says, shaking his head vigorously. "Well, now I know. At least your other boob is raspberry."
"Mmm. Well, you'd better wash off the black so it doesn't get mixed up. Besides, you can't suck one side and not the other. It has to be in balance."
"Maybe I like you off-balance, Mrs Cullen," he flirts.
"I can see the attraction in that, husband. But looking at you covered in black drool is kinda revolting. Go rinse your mouth out, but don't use any toothpaste. Mint makes oranges taste bitter."
"Oh, really?" he blinks, surprised. The chemical effects of human food are completely incomprehensible. They raise all sorts of scientific questions that make him long for discussions with Carlisle.
"Move it. You promised you would 'kiss it better', and lick me all over," she demands, before he can start up a conversation about it. They can discuss it later. Much later.
Edward flits to the bathroom, and grabs a new toothbrush out of the huge stash in the cupboard. Venom is unkind to the bristles, so the brushes never last long. He looks at his reflection in shock. Black teeth, lips, and chin make him look like he's been dead a few decades. Charming. Scrubbing only with water (which does not taste so hot by itself), he gets rid of all the horrible black. He throws out the brush, then heats up a wash cloth and rolls it up, to bring back to his wife.
"Better?" she asks, smirking, as he hurriedly flaps out the washcloth and applies it gently to her boob.
"Yes, Ma'am," he says happily, steadily mopping away black paint.
"Good. No more black body paint. You don't look good rotting," she says, face puckering.
"Yeah, I know, right? Totally makes me look my age."
"Gross, Cullen. Actually, you seem seventeen most of the time, and your normal, youthful looks totally suit your bubbly personality. I am not married to a geriatric. Most of the time. Nor am I into necrophilia."
Edward snorts. Bubbly? As if. "Glad I can fulfil your requirements, Madam. Now can we get back to the good stuff? The touching?" kiss "Compliments?" kiss "The touching?" kiss "How 'bout I drive you crazy?"
"Most certainly, yes," she says obligingly, spreading her legs for him.
"I love my life," he says for the umpteenth time, kissing Bella's neck, and chucks the washcloth on the floor.
"Me, too," Bella says, putting her thumbs on his lips and tracing them lovingly. Melting, Edward allows her to pull him down beside her for a searing kiss.
Sufficiently heated, Edward abandons her mouth and licks down to her collarbone, then on down to the white bib of the 'dress'. "Well, vanilla is good," he says between licks. He tries a swipe of the gold sugar crystals, and stops to crunch them. "Lemon's good too, but I'm not sure I like the texture," he informs his wife. Chewing does not come naturally to vampires. They have to practise it.
"Hmm," Bella says cataloging that nugget of info for future reference as she traces the outline of his ear. She's waiting for more stimulation.
Of course Edward's ready to tease her. She left him tied up for hours without so much as a lick, for Pete's sake!
Instead of moving back to her nipple, he drools a trail down her tummy and helps himself to some apple-green leaves. Taking a circuitous route, he finally ends up at her belly button, which he laps at ever-so-lightly, both to torment her, and to keep from damaging her belly button ring. Now that he's got Bella all nice and smeary, wherever should he tease her next? Hmm. Maybe warm up the boobs.
"Raspberry. Yum," he purrs, licking progressively closer to Bella's nipple. Finally, he takes it in his mouth and pulls hard. She moans, holding him there by the back of his neck. Gasping, he comes up for air, pulling the other breast, flavoured only of Bella, into his mouth. Rolling his tongue under her breast in hopes of sampling more orange-flavoured paint, he sucks hard, and something unexpected happens. He draws back from his wife in shock, releasing her tit with a 'pop'.
"Hey, I wasn't finished with you yet," she protests, then catches his mood. "Edward?" she asks fretfully, worried that she's somehow managed to turn him off.
"Um," he says quickly, and blushes pewter. "Bella, I..."
"What? What is it? Did I do something wr-" she begins.
"Oh, Hon', of course not," he chuckles. "Just caught me by surprise, that's all," he admits, flushing again.
"Look," he says gently, placing the tip of his finger on her nipple. It's wet.
"At what?" Bella asks, uncomprehending.
"Bella, you're ... leaking," he moans, fascinated.
"I am?" she blinks. "As in, colostrum?"
"Whatever passes for it," her mate says, staring at the clear, watery bead of fluid.
Bella gives him a little push and sits up, and the milk substitute plops off her nipple onto her leg. "Wow."
"Big wow," he agrees, kneeling between her knees.
Bella pulls on her nipple. Nothing happens. She takes both hands and squeezes her boob like a ketchup bottle. Nothing happens. "How did you get it out?" she asks curiously.
"Um, I was running my tongue on the underside, and I ... sucked ... it," he says bashfully.
How the heck does this work? Bella wraps both hands around her boob like it's a burger, and squeezes. The tiniest drop of moisture beads out. "Cool," they chorus, and then snicker a little.
"Try pulling down it," Edward suggests.
"Okay," Bella agrees, and rolls her thumbs forward as she pinches. A tiny jet of clear fluid flies out, and hits Edward on the chest, startling them both. They gawp at each other in delight, and start to chortle.
"Oh, Bella! That is amazing," Edward says, eyes alight.
"Cool, right?" she nods.
"Do it again!" he suggests eagerly.
Grabbing the other boob, she pinches and rolls, and narrowly avoids squirting him in the eye. They both shriek with laughter, and he jumps up and gives her a tight squeeze. "I have my own squirt gun!" he teases.
"Brat! Wonder why I've got it so early?" Bella muses.
"Probably because you're so much healthier than our foundlings. Happens to human women all the time. We'd best get you some liners for your bras," Edward chuckles.
"So what's it taste like?" Bella asks.
"I dunno," Edward says, evading her eyes. "Nice."
"I dare you to taste it again," she smiles.
"Minx! That's for the baby!" he protests, truly embarrassed.
Bella looks around the room meaningfully. "Whadda you know? No baby yet. Go on, taste it. I bet it's something you can stomach."
He pinches his eyes shut. "Minx."
Bella pulls down his hand. "I triple-dog-dare ya," she growls.
Edward lets his hand fall and just stares at her. How could she? He has never turned down a triple-dog-dare. Not. Ever. Vampires find dares pretty well-nigh irresistible. He puts out his hand toward Bella's boob, and drops it. He puts it out again, but his fingers droop.
Edward puts his hand out a third time, and grasps the tit. And lets go like he's been burned. He seethes. "Don't you dare tell Rosalie," he growls.
Bella nearly swallows her tongue trying not to cackle. "I won't."
"Good," Edward grunts, and reaches out a fourth time, to caress the object of the dare. He leans in, ever-so-slowly.
"But Alice will," Bella tells him.
"Geez!" Edward exclaims, retreating to pinch his nose again.
"I read on the Internet that some women suckle their husbands," Bella says matter-of-factly.
Edward moans and rests his forehead on Bella's tummy. "Shit," he says weakly.
"Come on, Edward! Who's going to know? Windows and doors are shut and locked. I'm not going to tell, and you made Alice promise not to Look at what we do. So just do it."
"No," comes the muffled reply.
"Do you think it's gross?" Bella checks, hoping he's not repulsed.
"No," he says curtly. "I already said it was nice."
"Then just try it, for curiosity's sake," Bella coaxes.
"Yes," she insists.
"No," he says hotly.
"Why?" he demands.
"Why not?" she rebuts.
"Because it doesn't seem... proper," Edward says at last, trying to bore a hole through his wife with his eyeballs, so she understands.
"Edward. You swallow my jizz," she sighs.
"Yes," he admits, turning the colour of the Volvo again.
"Sometimes, you drink my blood," she adds.
"So?" he asks defensively.
"So how is this any different?" Bella asks gently.
"Why don't you taste it yourself if you want to know what it's like?" Edward pouts. "I haven't eaten human food -food I can enjoy, at any rate- in nearly a century. I don't want to."
"Fine. Cup your hand under, and we'll try and catch some," Bella suggests.
Edward sticks his hand out, and Bella squirts some drops of the pearly liquid in it. Then she brings his hand up to her face and licks it. "Mmm. Hey, it tastes like cream," she says happily, licking his hand until every drop of milk(?) is gone. "Really. Try it," she coaxes. "Think of it as a scientific experiment."
Edward, despite his resolve, is starting to feel less bitchy and more amorous. Perhaps that has something to do with Bella's hand-licking.
"Pleeease?" she begs. Dangerous creature.
He drops his head in defeat. He is whipped. Totally whipped.
Giving in, Edward wraps his arms around Bella, and draws her close, sighing deeply. He nuzzles her chest, breathing in her unusual new scent, and runs soft lips over her nipple. Bella gently strokes his hair, watching almost ... tenderly.
Without warning, Edward dips his head and takes Bella's boob into his mouth, just as he has always done. Trying not to feel like a total perv, he presses his tongue firmly against the bottom of her breast, and sucks. Firmly.
Warm fluid trickles under his tongue. It's sweet, and thick, and tastes like ... well, he has no frame of reference. But it somehow seems... wholesome.
"Yeah. Closest you're ever going to get to whipped cream," Bella murmurs as she strokes his hair. He takes another swallow, and it's gone. Edward draws back shyly.
"How was that?" Bella asks softly. Edward hesitates.
"Good," he admits quietly.
"See? Nothing wrong with that. Can you do me a favour?" she asks, continuing to stroke his hair.
"What?" he asks softly.
"Well, it's really silly, but now the other side feels tight. Relieve the pain, will you, before it gets any worse?" she blinks sincerely.
"It does look... swollen," Edward winces. His quick breaths tickle Bella as he again, ducks his head and wraps his mouth around her rather engorged tissues. He swallows, and pulls. Three times. Four. Gone. She produces very little. New babies don't need much. Again, Edward draws back, and stares at his captivating wife.
"Wow. Thank you, Love. That feels... better," Bella murmurs. A couple of drops of the colostrum drip down onto her belly. Edward kisses them off. He raises his eyes to meet hers, slowly. Colours coalesce in his eyes, swirling and mixing.
Bella seizes Edward's arms and gasps, pulling him close so quickly that they almost knock heads. She gawps at him like a fish.
Edward panics, trying to stand, but she holds him firm. "What's the matter," he yelps.
Bella gawps some more, and two fat tears run down her cheeks. She takes his scruffy, paint-marred cheeks in her hands, staring.
"Bella! You're scaring me!" Edward whimpers, putting his hands around her wrists.
"Your eyes," she husks. "Oh my God!" she exclaims, running her fingers over his face in wonder.
Edward tries again to get up, and Bella pulls him back, shushing him. She's crying in earnest, most prettily. She pulls her mate in for a tight hug, kissing his throat.
"Please talk to me, Bella, before I go mad," he begs, beginning to shiver.
Bella laughs and sobs. "I understand it now."
"What do you understand?" he begs.
"Theofilo's eyes. It's diet. He's the only hybrid baby with red eyes, and he's the only baby in our family without a mother to nurse him," Bella explains. "All the other babies have eyes like their mothers'. We need the camera. Before it fades."
Edward is confused. "Why do we need the camera?"
Bella smooths adoring fingers over his brows and lips, and cups his cheeks, and smiles tremulously at her husband. "Edward. Your eyes. They've gone back to their original colour. They are so beautiful. So beautiful, my love."
Gobsmacked, he pushes away, and runs to the bathroom, flipping on the light. He stares into the mirror, gawping.
He is pale. There is a hint of a tired-looking smudge under his eyes. His lips are unusually pink. His hair is a riot of bronze. His chin sports a short, rather scruffy beard, that he's only been wearing since the middle of August. And his eyes... are green. He leans on the counter, and stares. And thinks. And recognizes an old friend: Edward Anthony Masen.
Bella walks up beside him, her red eyes devouring her husband and his reflection. How often has she wished that she could have known the exact colour of his human eyes! And now, she does.
He slowly reaches out, and touches his reflection. He gasps again, sounding tearful. "Hello, Masen," he whispers. "Guess you're not gone forever, after all."
"Of course he isn't. He's just a little stronger, and better looking," Bella teases.
Edward rolls his very green eyes. They're bright as verdant grasses in his Meadow, flecked with gold. "I ... can... My mother. Hers were softer. Like moss."
"Were they?" Bella murmurs.
"Yes. The flecks in hers weren't gold. They were blue. Teal. It made them look... greyer."
"That's wonderful, Love," Bella says, with a lump in her throat. "I wonder how many years I can keep my milk supply going."
"Huh? No, Dearest," Edward says, smiling a bit sadly. "I can't keep them this colour."
"Why not?" Bella demands. Looking otherworldly does not bother her, but she knows it bothers him.
Edward sighs, embraces his wife, and looks at her fondly. He seems older. More mature. "Because, my Sweet, we can't let other vampires see. Just think, if Trads saw me like this. They might decide to obtain themselves a source of milk."
The implications are frightening.
"I get to take your picture, though, right?" Bella checks.
"Yes. Mind if I tidy up, first?"
"Not if I can tidy up, too. I'm starting to itch," Bella grimaces.
"I'm not done licking you," Edward pouts.
"You want more orange flavouring?" Bella asks curiously.
"Well, not really," Edward shrugs. "You can wash. But be aware that I expect to lick you later."
"Deal," Bella grins.
They step into the shower, and quickly remove all the remaining traces of body paint. They wash each others' hair with Bella's strawberry shampoo, and slither Edward's sandalwood soap over their skins before scrubbing down with a loofah. Edward decides it's time to spring his flirty joke. If he replaces the word 'refuse' with 'abuse', Bella will be in pleats. He's certain of it. He grasps Mr Ed firmly by the head, and manipulates his skin so he 'sings'.
"Hello, my Baby, hello, my Honey, hello my Ragtime Doll
Send me a kiss by wire.
Baby, my heart's on fire!
If you abuse me,
Honey, you'll lose me.
Then you'll be left alone.
So come on telephone,
And tell me that you're my own!"
Bella slays herself laughing, all doubled-up. He smiles smugly, completely full of himself.
There's a squeak and the sound of a window sliding. Em and Rose are home.
As usual, Edward steps out of the shower first, and wraps himself in a towel, and gets three for Bella: one for her hair, one for her upper body and one for Ren. Bedward chatter cheerfully, kidding each other, as they primp themselves with more than the usual care. They decide to put on nice clothes, and get Rose to take some proper pictures. After all, how often in the future will their bodies change?
Twenty minutes after discovering Edward's green eyes, Bella and Edward are heading for the sitting room, hand in hand. They stop near the kitchen counter, looking like a pair of Cheshire Cats. Edward is wearing a crisp white dress shirt and black trousers, and Bella wears a midnight blue, short dress with dress heels. She has on smoky eye shadow, and her hair falls over one eye in a smooth sheet.
Emmett and Rosalie obviously found somewhere to bathe. They are dressed in clean, designer jeans and Dartmouth sweatshirts. Rose is busily towelling her hair dry. The older pair look at the younger, and smile happily. Then, their smiles morph into shock. They have noticed Edward's eyes.
"What the fuck?" Emmett asks weakly. He and his wife get closer to Edward. Invade his personal space, in fact. He smiles placidly and lets them. "What have you done now!" Emmett demands. Edward's eyes drop, and he smiles bashfully.
"You can't tell anyone how," Edward says solemnly, and Emmett nods vigorously. Edward explains. As briefly as possible. Whilst silver around the ears. And explains why it must not become common knowledge.
"Well, that explains a lot," Emmett says simply. "You're gonna tell Carlisle, right?"
"Guess so," Edward shrugs. "Anyhow, Rose? Will you take our picture?"
"Of course," Rose says, jumping up to fetch her camera. Miraculously, she is not jealous. If she wants to have her original eye colour, she can always wear coloured contact lenses.
"I wonder how long the colour will last," Bella murmurs.
"Be over by tomorrow," Edward shrugs.
"How do you know?" Bella demands.
"Easy. The Demented Fairy says I'm meeting Joe and Tabby for coffee tomorrow. So the colour will be back to normal by then," Edward answers, seemingly not bothered by the impending loss.
Rose takes a huge number of pictures of her brother and sister-in-law, together and separately. Then, Bella takes pictures of Em and Rose together.
"Why does the exciting shit always happen to you?" Emmett asks his brother, while Rose uploads the photos to the computer.
Edward shrugs. "Bella says God loves me."
Emmett looks at him, and shakes his head. "Somebody loves you, Tough Guy."
Edward colours, the corners of his mouth tipping up. "Yeah. There was a little too much excitement here this morning, though," he says, eyes rolling.
"Of what nature?" Emmett leers.
"Em-mett!" Edward growls, annoyed. "First, it appears you stepped on Margery's cat, causing it bodily harm."
"Damn thing's always on our windowsill," Emmett mutters.
"Yeah, well, we're all going over today to apologize. We need a nice bouquet of flowers, and some cash. A 'you are a great neighbour' card probably wouldn't hurt either, seeing as she hates me, now."
"Why does she hate you, Little Brother?" Emmett asks narrowly. Once in a rare while, he channels Esme.
"Um, let's just say Bella and I got carried away, early this morning, and made some noise. Margery called the cops. They searched the house. One of them wants to have sex with me that involves his billy stick, and the other one wants to throw Bella's ass in jail for spousal abuse. Oh, it was a thrilling morning, Brother. Let me tell you."
"So lemme get this straight: This weekend, you and Bella went out with us, dressed in body paint, to a frat kegger, Tabby's house, Hot Toddy's Deplorable House of Depravity, and let's not forget trick or treat. Oh, and you wore a collar for Jazz, and met his friend Thalia. Then, you made use of Toddy's toys, and probably your own kinky furniture, disturbed the old battleaxe next door, and got a visit and a dressing down from the cops, not to mention another proposition, and then you and Bella had more ginchy sex and experimented and you ended up with a human eye colour, which is bloody nice, by the way," Em says with his arms folded.
Edward beams. "Thank you. That pretty much sums it up, Emmett. Oh, and the cops said if they ever have to come here again they're calling our parents," he adds.
Emmett gawps, finally tipped over the edge into a state of alarm. "You're grounded. You and Bella, both."
Edward laughs, delighted. "Hey, Bella? You hear that? We're grounded."
"Can we be grounded to our bedroom, Emmett? Edward made me a promise he hasn't fulfilled yet, and after he does, we're going to have a lot of cleaning to do," Bella says from the computer, where she's choosing pictures to send to Esme. She and Edward smoulder at each other so hard it's a wonder the entire house doesn't catch fire.
Emmett gawps at his formerly shy baby sister. Then, he turns irritably back to his brother. "Edward?" he pouts.
"Yes, Brother?" Edward grins, waiting for it.
Wait for it...
Wait for it...
"You are one Insufferable Little Shit!"
CAUTION: Never leave a human bound, especially an uneven binding. for long, and never leave him/her unattended. Never ever tie a rope around a neck. Never use a hitch on the human body (they tighten). Check the person's circulation. Leave a gap between flesh and rope. There are many more dangers to consider when tying someone up. I advise you to study the safe use of ropes before using them. The last thing you want is to injure your partner.
Bondage Safety Rules (Be aware this site is sexually explicit):