A/N: This fic requires the utmost dramatic voice to read it, accompanied by a plethora of long, dramatic pauses and a completely serious manner.

This fic is for ffnlover, who bought me - HammerHips - in an FGB auction and then decided she wanted me to poke fun at stories that have little plot and lots of lemons. So, she kindly agreed to allow me to bring givemesomevamp on board, and this little ditty is our collab for it. Thanks for lettin' us share this with the world! They might not thank you after they read it, though.

Thank you ever so much, JaspersDestiny, for agreeing to beta this before you knew what you were getting yourself into. Yeah, our crackfics aren't always the easiest to beta, so you deserve some long and hard humpin'.

WARNING: Pissing oneself is possible, probable, and may actually happen.

We don't own the characters; SMeyer does.

Perilous Passion

The place: Forks

The heroine: Bella

The time: 7:04 pm

Bella bravely, quietly, and stealthily stomped toward the old, abandoned school. It was time. What time was it? Well, 7:04 pm to be exact. It also happened to be the exact time when Bella would finally catch the notorious, infamous, wicked, shameful, scandalous, and pesky killer who'd been terrorizing, petrifying, horrifying, scaring, unnerving—well, you get the idea—all of Forks for the past few months. The Forks Killer had first targeted Bella's family, then her friends, then the friends of her friends, then the pets of her friends' friends, and then the fleas on the pets of her friends' friends. Bella knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was next. She knew because not only was she the last human being above ground in Forks, but because she'd recently received a string of threatening notes indicating as much. She pulled the latest note out of her pocket, where it had magically appeared this morning between breakfast, her shower, and that lone walk in the woods to clear her head, to read it once more:

PLEASE MEET ME AT THE SCHOOL SO I CAN KILL YOU.
XOXO,
THE FORKS KILLER.

P.S. IF YOU'D LIKE TO KNOW WHAT MY REAL NAME IS BEFORE I KILL YOU, IT'S—

Bella narrowed her eyes into slits before growling and crumpling the paper crumplingly in her angry fist. How can a fist get angry, you ask? Well, she knew she'd be touching the letter again at some point and it'd made her angry, so she'd drawn a little mad face on her hand with a Crayola Washable Marker in that ugly poo brown color that no one ever uses unless they're drawing a stupid tree, or a pile of steaming poop, or maybe even steaming poop on top of a poop in a deadwood tree. Anyhoo, where were we… Oh, yes, she crumpled the note up in her angry fist. She'd never bothered to read the note all the way through. Instead she would always stop at the important part. Its meaning was clear enough. Someone wanted to kill.

Kill.

They wanted to kill.

Someone.

To.

Wanted.

Kill.

Her.

Oops, we got a bit out of order there, didn't we? Oh well, our beta will fix it. (Beta's Note: I refuse to fix the idiocy of these two complete knobheads. Grammar, yes; anything else…well, just deal with it. I know what to expect from HammerHips and givemesomevamp by now. They talk about Jello peens and Penis-nosed foxes all the time. Okay, carry on.)

And this made her angry. As angry as the little mad face on her fist that was written in poo brown Crayola Washable Marker. Yes, THAT angry. After all, wouldn't you be angry if your face was drawn in poo color? I know I would be.

"I wonder if I should have shown this note to the cops… or at least to the rest of the Cullens?" she wondered aloud. "Nah," she said after a minute, flinging the note over her head and walking on with her head held dangerously high. The cops were as terrible at solving murders as they were at solving mysteries. Scooby-Doo and the rest of the gang they are not, especially when they don't have clues aside from the mountains of dead bodies and the sparkling beings jumping from tree to tree like they were sexually indeterminate spider monkeys covered in some kind of body glitter you can only get at cheap porn stores and on Ebay. They'd have caught the killer by now if that were the case, but instead the killer had killed everyone in town, including the police. Murder. Murderously murderous murder. Besides, if she had called them, they'd only try to make her stay away from the school, which was just absurd. There was no way she was going to sit at home, safe and protected by her coven of vampires, when a vengeful maniac who wanted her dead was on the loose and just waiting to be confronted.

To be confronted by her. And her poo brown, angry fist face of peril and doom.

Doom and peril.

Peril and doom.

We dunno which sounds better… Our beta will fix it. (Beta's note: Sod off, you two complete idiots. It doesn't make a fucking difference which order you put them in; it's fucking stupid either way. God, I need a drink.)

Besides, in no way could she put her vampires - the love of her life and his family - in dangerous peril. Immortality didn't last forever. Not inside this school.

Dun dun dun!

She and her poo brown, angry fist of peril and doom or doom and peril came to a halt outside the school's doors. Bella's plan was simple, kind of like HammerHips' ex-brother-in-law, Greg. But unlike Greg, Bella's plan just might work.

"Damn," she muttered fiercely and upsettingly. "I meant to bring a weapon of some sort. Maybe a string of garlic-" but she stopped short as the wavy lines signaling a flashback obscured her vision, and her mind drifted to a different time and place, a more pleasant time… (Beta's note: Are you fucking kidding me? Did you really just use wavy fucking lines to signal a flashback? That's it. This is the last time I beta anything for you two!)

"Bella." Her love's cool, minty fresh, sweet breath rolled across her face like a boat down the Mississippi River, and her olfactory receptors choo-chooed on a direct track down her flat but not muscularly flat tummy and right on to her station of love that resided just above her blossoming feminine petals, which were now dew-moistened with love juice. As her petals bloomed and her womanly fragrance scented a three-mile perimeter, Edward's nostrils flared impressively.

"No, Edward! Don't!" Bella whisper-shouted covering her gaping mouth as she awoke to his tinkling, sonorous voice. But she feared it was too late. The incredible amount of garlic she had consumed for dinner was still heavy on her tongue, and she knew that even now, as she rubbed her legs together in her desperate search for friction, that her love had been exposed to that deadly veggie through her carelessness and cravings for Italian. Damn Europe.

Her love's eyes shone with unshed tears as he backed away. He always knew this day would come - the day when she would wake, her doe eyes wide, not with unequivocal love and everlasting devotion, no…but with the truth of his horrible monstrous nature and the immediate need to banish him from her company would force him to leave her forever. He put his emotionless mask—the one that only showed the emotion of pain—on his face as he backed away.

"I see you have finally come to your senses, love. I'll not bother you again…" He stood and turned toward the window, where he breathed an addendum onto his verbal vow. "…while you are conscious."

"No!1111one1!" (Beta's Note: You did that on purpose!) (Authors' Note to Beta: No, we didn't. It was a typo.) (Beta's Note: You typed 'one'! How is that a fucking typo?) (Authors' Note to Beta: Ummm, our fingers slipped? Yep. That's our story and we're sticking to it.) (Beta's Note: *headdesk*) Bella yell-mumbled with her deathly breath shielded from her love, but her eyes spoke volumes as she ran forward in a panicky panic and buried her head in his manlike, sculpted marble chest. Her eyes begged him to stay with each flutter of her unmistakably long and lush lashes as she gazed up at him, one hand covering her mouth. Her lashes looked so full and so thick, like the legs of a fly, even without mascara! Her tears pooled over her dark, milk chocolaty irises and into those thick, long, lush, unmade-up eyelashes, glistening the way nose hairs glisten directly after a nasty, snot-filled sneeze. Those tears told him she loved him. Those tears, now intermingling with his prepubescent chest fuzz, said she desired him. But Edward could not comprehend nor understand what the problem was.

"Then, love, what is wrong, my lovely love?" he asked, kissing her on the top of her head just as his mother used to do to him…when he was human. But he was not human, and there was no way his sweet, lovely, naïve love-dove could ever comprehend, conceive, fathom, or understand the depth of such a concept.

"I…I did something bad," she murmured, her vocabulary as horrible as…like, whatever, into his hard but decidedly not muscular chest. If she had lain in the biblical sense with that smelly mutt on the reservation, Edward would drain the life from her and then break down into sobs, rolled into the fetal position for the rest of his days, never touching his manly eleven-inch pee-pee again. If they survived the next five minutes, he vowed to himself that he would show his love—his reason to lovingly exist and the one person who had opened up his loveless heart to pure, loving love—heaven tonight in the non-sacrilegious form of his glistening rod of power ramming through her barrier of purity in the gentlest yet sexiest of ways. Her downy vulva would receive much more than just adequate attention. She would forever—even in hell, because that is where they would be heading once they deflowered one another before marriage— be his. "I-I ate garlic."

"Oh, loveliest love," Edward crooned in a patronizing yet dazzling manner. "You silly, silly, absurd, obtuse, stupid, idiotic, child. Garlic cannot harm me! It actually serves as the most potent of aphrodisiacs among my kind," he purred. "Only your words and your hypothetical whoring ways can pierce my marble-like fleshy bits and my love for you." His hands ghosted ghostingly along her jaw before making contact and bringing her face up to his. Her feet were lifted off the ground and her heart soared… metaphorically, that is. A heart can't really soar. Well, we suppose it can, but if it did, it would have to be ripped out of one's chest and hurled through the air. Therefore, a soaring heart wouldn't be a good thing. Metaphorically it's a good thing, so we're going to go with that instead of the 'ripping it out of her chest' literal interpretation, m'kay? (Beta's note: Kill me now. Please.)

His tongue peeked into her mouth before going back to its home, only to venture farther the next time and farther still the next until it was swirling around the virginal cavern of her taste buds. Bella was briefly reminded of the Tootsie Roll because of the rhythm and low humming that was resonating from her love's chest, but she dismissed it as a side effect from his heady scent and thick, wet tongue going in and out and around and around her mouth like an oversized turd swirling 'round and 'round in the toilet but is just too big to flush. He probed her over and over again until she almost passed out from need - both of oxygen and him. Need. The needly type, not to be confused with needle-y, as in sharp, but needly as in she needed him. Just thought you'd like a bit of clarification there. (Beta's Note: I'm halfway through a fifth of whiskey now and I just don't give a fuck anymore. But just so you know, there's no such term as 'needly'. Jesus Christ…)

"I long to be inside you." Edward released one little button on his shirt and all of his and Bella's clothes fell away effortlessly. He stood as tall as a six-foot two-inch tree with a protruding twelve-inch branch as thick as her waist and showed off his glorious male nudeness.

Bella's innocent, inexperienced, doe-like orbs flew open at the sight of his magnificent body. His pale, man-like chest heaved beneath her gaze. His pectorals quivered. Her eyes traveled his length, from his eighty-inch shoulders to his seventy-two inch chest, before lowering to his forty-inch, rippled abdomen and then focusing on his fifteen-inch manroot. (Beta's Note: This whiskey is either very good or Edward's cock has a very undetermined length.) His cockle quivered magnificently.

"Oh!" Bella innocently and virginally gasped. "How will I ever accommodate you? After all, I'm just a tiny thing and your manhood is very manly!" she wondered aloud.

"Like this," he said before falling on top of her.

"Whoa, wait a second! Whoa there, Edward!" Bella struggled beneath his massive, manly weight. "I may be an innocent, naïve virgin, but I know a little something about foreplay. I've been waiting years for the perfect man, saving my spectacular hymen just for him. I found a vampire and that'll do, but I want it done right."

"We don't have much time. We're at 1500 words as it is, and the authors are trying to keep this under 5000 words. There are thousands of euphemisms for the act of sex and the authors want to be able to use them all." (Beta's Note: WTF?)

"Well, they shouldn't have wasted so much time talking about poo brown Crayola Washable Markers! Start rubbin' my nubbin' or I'll never start schlobbin' your knobbin'."

"Okay, okay," he whined. "Do I have to?" At her nod, he slithered down her body. "But I'm scared to eat the hairy fish taco! I've never done this before, Bella. I've just watched it in every male's head for centuries." He gazed at the lovely thatch of thick, voluptuous, untamed, springy brown hair between (and crawling halfway down) her thighs. It reminded him of those S.O.S pads his mom used when she cleaned pans down in the skullery when he was a human, except Bella's S.O.S pad was covered with glistening love juices instead of blue soap. (Beta's Note: His mother wouldn't have had S.O.S pads. They weren't invented until 1917.) (Authors' Note to Beta: No one is going to know that because they aren't fountains of knowledge like you.) (REAL Beta's Note: It's possible, sillies. Edward was changed in 1918!) (REAL Authors' Note to REAL Beta: Greeeat! Now everyone will know that it was all a hoax. You just HAD to stick a REAL Beta's note in here.)

He pulled a comb out from nowhere and parted the magnificent mound of pubic hair after spritzing it with his patent-pending detangler. Closing his eyes and grimacing, he reached out a tentative tongue to the hidden love button nestled between her thighs. He licked, and sucked, and even suckled it a bit. There might have been a slurp or two. We'll leave that up to your imagination.

"Hey!" he exclaimed excitedly. "It tastes like chicken!" He dove back into the Colonel's bucket. He'd be proud to wear her honey and chicken flavored love grease on his plump lips. (Beta's Note: You make a fake Beta's Note about the plausibility of Edward knowing about S.O.S pads but you then give him the ability to decipher the tastiness of KFC? *takes another swig of whiskey*)

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Bella screamed out, the orgasm exploding from her body. She flopped around on the massive bed like a fish out of water, like a chicken with its head cut off, like maggots in a frying pan full of hot grease, like a popcorn launching out of its popper.

"Now?" Edward asked, posing his twenty-inch manhood (Beta's Note: God help me…) at Bella's portal. "Now can we do the wild thing? The naughty-naughty? The mookie-mookie? The dirty deed? Can I use my pulsating lightsaber to pierce your taun-taun and expose your sexy entrails?" He wiped Bella's juices off his chin and spit out a long, curly pubic hair discreetly.

Bella nodded. Edward, the oldest virgin in the universe, thrust forward once and stretched Bella completely.

"Ouch!" Bella shrieked. She turned her head away from the sight of Edward's pistoning hips and spoke to the reader. "Hey, this little parody might be completely unbelievable, but there's no way in hell I am going to act like a typical romance, virgin heroin and enjoy her deflowering. This hurts like a motherfucker and don't you forget it!" She then closed her eyes and began chanting to herself. "I should've become a nun. I should've become a nun. I should've become a nun… Owie! Mother fucker, get off of me! My cooch will never be the same! Charlie was right."

After shaking her head to clear the dirty thoughts that were tumbling through her mind, like underwear and socks in a dryer without Bounce FabricSoftener Sheets, she forced the fantastic—though poorly timed—flashback away and came back to reality, where certain death certainly awaited her. She dug through her extremely expensive, trendy, and cool Dolce & Gabbana handbag - the one that was featured on page 134 of the January 2010 issue of Vogue, a gift from her loving friend and almost-sister, Alice - searching for something to arm herself with. At last her fingers met the cold, hard steel of the perfect killing machine.

It was a stapler.

A stolen stapler!

She had stolen it from the desk of her one true love: Edward Anthony Masen Cullen. It was even monogrammed with his initials in swirly but not at all unmasculine script. It reminded Bella of how he swirled his tongue around her exit-only poop shoot while plunging his twenty-seven inch cock into her baby-maker. There was something to be said for vampire flexibility.

She tested the weight of the stapler in her hand, smiling slightly as the cool steel length reminded her of her lover's long, vampire, manly dangly bits. Dragging her mind out of the gutter, where it had resided happily since the poppage of her cherry, her confidence grew once more. After all, what mere criminal mastermind could possibly best the likes of her? After all, she was as thin as one of those pick-up stick things, she had no fighting skills to speak of—not even a Sweating to the Oldies class to fall back on—and she was wearing four-inch Jimmy Choo stilettos (another gift from Alice) that forced her to take tiny, weary, painful steps. After all, she had bedded a vampire multiple times and lived to tell the tale! She was strong.

"Prepare to meet your doom," she shouted as she flung open the door, discarding the quiet and stealthy stomping from earlier and replacing it with just the brave portion of the stomping and a staggering amount of confidence for a girl facing certain death in what was sure to be a spectacularly painful way. There, that would show the pesky serial killer! She didn't need to rely on quiet and stealth. Instead, she would announce her every move and give the killer plenty of time to react. It was only fair.

She squinted her puny, human eyes and made out a dim figure standing at the far end of the room. It was Victoria, the mate of James, who they –but in no way her—had killed in the ballet studio when he'd tracked her to Phoenix. She was in the process of bending over and ripping into the neck of the last pet alive in Forks: Robert, the dearly departed friend of her friend Angela's pet gerbil, Gassy the Gerbil. Apparently the gerbil had irritable bowel syndrome and had a tendency to let one rip whenever he was in a stressful situation.

RUMMMMPHF!

Bella was pretty sure she heard a tiny gerbil fart before she gathered up all of her bravery and courage in a bravery and courage ball in the pit of her stomach and pushed the turkey and cheese on rye out of the way so she could gather up the ability to speak.

"Hungry, eh?" she growled huskily. "Hungry for your own death!"

Bella ran toward Victoria—well, she made quick, tiny, painful, weary steps while wincing toward her—and brandished the stapler above her head. In the poorly lit room it almost looked like a real weapon, maybe even something a vampire would be afraid of. Slightly winded, she stopped a few inches away from Victoria and clicked the stapler together like a pair of castanets.

A pair of deadly castanets.

The deadliest pair of castenets to ever be clicked in the history of castanets.

Unless you count that time Major Spanky clicked two live grenades together in 'Nam and blew his battalion to kingdom come. Those were a bit deadlier, but the stapler was still the second deadliest of all castanets…and much less messy.

Unless you count that time she had worked herself over with said stapler, using a bottle of warming gel to melt the stick of Country Crock Edward had basted her portals of pleasure with while her thoughtful love pounded into her ass like a gay proctologist who'd been left lonely for one weekend too long. (Beta's Note: I can't even…)

Victoria sighed and pulled a gun out of her pocket with one hand while still holding the farting gerbil dinner with the other. Apparently Victoria had smartened up a bit and she was carrying a human weapon to make sure she could actually finish Bella off. Instead of all this running around bull-crap, she could shoot her from afar in case another vampire showed up when she was still knee-deep in her villainous monologue…like in IdreamofEddy's Colliding Meteors. For the first time, Bella started to feel scared, but she hid her fear behind her unique brand of wily, dry, not-really-that-funny-at-all humor.

"What, is this like a game of paper, rock, scissors, lizard, Spock?" Bella quipped quippingly. "Only it's stapler, gun, and Gassy the Gerbil dinner? Well, stapler beats a gerbil with irritable bowel syndrome every time…" The gerbil let out a gaseous but quiet fart at this point, making both Bella and Victoria turn their noses up in disgust before Bella continued. "But gun beats stapler."

"What the hell?" a deep, manly voice said. Even though it was deep and manly, the voice reminded her of bells—manly bells—like the sound of a garbage truck backing up.

Bella whirled around. "Oh, Edward!"

The love of Bella's life - the vampire, Edward Cullen - stood a few feet away, fear and hurt written all over his perfectly sculpted face and body.

"I thought I'd find you here," he said, walking forward and gently running his finger along the side of her face. She tingled at his icy touch, but not from the temperature difference, no…a jolt of tingly electricity jumped from his fingertip and traveled through her body straight to her hoo-ha. "Especially after I read the letter you left me."

"The one with the joke about vampires and cows?" Bella asked, her forehead wrinkled sexily in thought.

"No, the one that said you were coming to the school to confront the killer." Edward smirked, thinking of the one about anal sex with a Longhorn. He'd always wanted to try that…

"Oh, Edward, you're so smart!" The star-crossed lovers raced toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Chicago at 6:36 pm and traveling at 55mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19PM at a speed of 35mph. Bella stopped only when she was in the safe, sculpted, and marble-y enclosure of his arms.

They met in a wild clashing of tongues, mating the way scientists wish and dream captive platypuses would. Bella ran her hands over Edward's iron-hard, sculpted shoulders and then his male nipples, ignoring the faint coughing she heard over to her left, indicating that Victoria would like to politely interrupt. Her hands slid lower, running over the bulge in his perfectly worn, Docker-like khaki pants—only they weren't Dockers, but a much more expensive and more designer-y brand. They sagged low on his male hips and clung lightly to his amazingly cute and smexy male buttocks, giving the look of two firm apples mambo-ing in hard, icy flesh.

She groaned appreciatively, drowning out the growl he made in the back of his throat as they kissed. She unzipped his pants, touching the silky yet hard-as-stone thirty-inch length of his throbbing, male maleness. After all, when they'd realized that every human in Forks… and their pets…and their fleas…were dying, they'd rejoiced that they had decided to unfurl their virgin petals and give themselves to each other without getting married. After all, the preacher had been murdered months ago.

"Good Lord, put that away!" Victoria's shrill and not at all attractive voice screeched through the air, where it mingled with the scent mixture of their combined arousals and Gassy's gerbil flatulence.

Bella and Edward broke away from their sexy embrace and looked around, confused. It was their usual expression when they weren't using their 'I'm-a-constipated-emo-teenager' look.

Victoria stood with her arms crossed over her chest, impatiently tapping one foot.

"I have a gun and I'm about to kill you, Bella," she said peevishly and irritably in her girly, feline-esque voice—a voice that reminded Bella of two cats fucking in a dumpster. "Doesn't that ruin the mood at all?"

Bella shrugged and Edward answered for her as was their custom, since their minds were melded in a way that could only be surpassed by their bodies in the next three chapters of our heroine's tale. Oh, and because she was too weak to speak for herself when submerged in his awesomeness.

"I don't see why it would," Edward said. "This is just like that time you told us to meet you at the old, abandoned warehouse in Port Angeles…"

Squiggly flashback lines blurred Bella's line of sight again as she remembered Edward's Millennium Falcon battling her southern Endor until he had turned her into a quivering pile of soup in a flimsy container—something like a Hefty trash bag— as she moaned like Chewbacca and knocked her heels on his buns of steel, making him whinny like the thoroughbred he was.

"…but we had such hot sex in front of the dilapidated mirrors that we forgot to try to catch her," Bella finished, sighing as she felt the essence of her love dribble down her thighs just from the memory. "I remember that!"

"Yeah, it's happened a few times now. I think I should have had you two arrested for indecent exposure instead of killing your police chief father and the rest of the police force. Seriously, the worst was that time I told you to meet me in the middle of the forest and you somehow managed to squeeze yourselves into a rabbit burrow and do the dirty deed doggy-style. I was going to kill you both, but I got so squicked out that I left." Victoria shook her head to clear it from the disturbing images bombarding her from her cursed, infallible memory.

"Being in close proximity with a cold-blooded vampire killer really ups the sexual tension," Bella stated factually.

"And Bella even thought the poison oak was totally worth it," Edward said. "I got to sexily rub calamine lotion all over her…"

"Zip it, Bedward," Victoria sneered in a not nice way.

"Now, that's not nice," Edward said craftily. "But since we're speaking now, why don't you tell me why you are killing everyone?"

"For God's sake, like it's hard to figure out!" Victoria said. She dropped the gaseous gerbil, which hit the floor with a miniscule plop and a 'pppbbblllttt' noise as he released his last fluff of gas—and held the gun in both of her hands, taking careful aim at Bella. "You killed my mate back in chapter 23 of the last book and left me to run amok until I decided to enact my revenge."

"Oh yeah," Bella said. "I remember that. He almost killed me, but my man rescued me. We hid our pain and anguish from my near death experience by having sex in as many positions as we could think of. Remember that, baby?" Bella purred, running her finger salaciously over his bulging, thirty-two inch lightning rod of manliness. Pretty soon she was going to need a leash for that thing.

"Definitely," Edward growled sexily with a sexy leer. Victoria cleared her throat and rolled her eyes. Bella, remembering what grave peril they themselves were in, tucked her hand down her own pants for safe keeping.

"Why didn't you just come after me and my sexy man?" Bella asked boldly.

"You know, I don't remember," Victoria said. "There was a really good reason when I started. It's just that I've been waiting so long to get caught. It's been months! Maybe if you spent less time screwing around and more time following the increasingly obvious clues I left for you…"

"Edward is smart and was doing a great job investigating," Bella said hotly, barely teasing her downy vulva. "And his quirky family is full of good looking vampire men, all of them ripe for books of their own."

"Great investigator? I've killed everyone in town, some of them twice! You are the only human left."

"You know what that means," Edward said, cupping Bella's pert and perky breasts in his cool, vampire hands and making her creative juices gush and flow like a mighty river that's been damned up far too long. "It's up to us to repopulate Forks."

"Is that even possible, Edward? Can a vampire and a human have a baby?" Bella asked, turning all of her attention toward her beloved. She removed her hands from her wooly lady hump and placed her fingers—dripping in her own special brand of sticky pollen—on her savior's face.

Edward shrugged. "Well, I don't see why not. If the authors smoke enough crack, I think anything would be possible, especially if the Beta doesn't catch it." (Beta's Note: Do whatever you want to do with this clusterfuck. I quit.) (Authors' Note: Woohoo! We're good to go!) Edward sighed dreamily, envisioning a girl for him and a boy in his exact image for his mate as he stroked his fifty-inch man-pole in a non-perverted but smexy, titillating, and perverted manner.

Edward reached around his love and grabbed her tiny little ass. Bella moaned, and then they kissed.

Their kiss was hot.

Deep.

Wet.

With tongues, slobber, venom, etc.

The intensity of the kiss made Bella's leg involuntarily pop out behind her gracefully, like a dog at a fire hydrant. Victoria aimed her gun again and then shook her head in disgust.

"They'd probably find a way to do it even if I killed them, and I have no interest in zombie porn," she said before hightailing it out of Forks forever.

And they all lived hornily ever after.

The End. (Beta's Note: Thank GOD.)