Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things Twilight-related. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Title: In the Name of Love

Rating: M

Characters: All, Carlisle/Alice, Carlisle/Edward, Carlisle/Esmeand if you want to get technical, Carlisle/Bella, (Alice/Emmett), (Alice/Jasper), (Alice/Edward), & (Alice/Esme).

Timeframe: 1st year, post-honeymoon

A/N: It's really not as filthy as it looks. Trust me! Though that might be a bit of a disappointment to some. That is, if anyone out there is still reading this after waiting so unbearably long for an update… Those rambunctious twitter peeps of mine inspired this particular story. Many thanks to them, and to all the readers who have taken the time to share your thoughts with me. Huge thanks also to my beta, Carol, without whom I would be very lost.

(~ * ~ * ~)

Being the leader of a vampire coven is a daunting responsibility. Safety is paramount, of course, especially when one's family consists of peaceful vegetarian vampires and one very fragile human being. We haven't had any cause for concern here in Alaska thus far, but Emmett and I still run perimeter checks twice daily through the land surrounding our property. I would have to say, though, that the most arduous part of my duty as the patriarch of this family is making sure everyone is happy and, in Bella's case, healthy. Until one has walked in my shoes, it's truly impossible to understand the intricate ebb and flow of coven dynamics that I must navigate each and every day in order to maintain a balance. It can be rather exhausting, even for a vampire. Take this evening, for instance…

After a remarkably busy but rewarding twelve-hour shift at the hospital, I arrived home a little before seven o'clock. I parked my car in its usual spot, whistling happily as I maneuvered my way to the house entrance. I'd barely pushed the door all the way open before I was blind-sided by a solid mass of eager lips and limbs. Sensing immediately who it was, I relaxed into the impact, which, unfortunately, sent both of us careening back into the garage where we landed on the hood of Rosalie's BMW with a resounding metallic clunk. I could easily feel the rather significant dent beneath me, but before I could ponder how to deal with that little hornet's nest, Alice had already crushed her mouth against mine, undone my slacks, hitched her skirt up, and enveloped me in her warm wetness.

Somewhere in the background, I registered two of our three garage doors opening…and then closing again…and then opening again… I was too lost in the delicious sensations to care, though. Our home was situated well into the wilderness areas outside of Fairbanks, so the chances of someone happening across our explicit little display were slim to none.

I held Alice's hips as she rocked above me, encouraging her as she increased her rhythm. I loved her like this, all wild and uncontrolled. Releasing my lips, she threw her head back, breathing heavily. Her eyes were clenched shut. The smile on her face nearly made me lose it right there. I absolutely love giving pleasure to my spouses. It's one of the greatest joys of my entire existence.

When Alice started to mewl, her grip on my shoulders tightening, I bucked against her, our movements becoming frenzied until she finally shuddered, her mouth opening wide in a silent scream. She collapsed on top of me just as I let myself go, the intensity of it forcing quiet moans past my lips. Best welcome home ever. Wrapping my arms around her, I pressed kisses to her temple, whispering sweet words of love. Me, sentimental? I think you'll find my name under the dictionary definition. And I'm quite proud of it, too.

It wasn't long before I slipped from her warmth, prompting both of us to sigh. Rolling over, I smiled as she arched beneath me, stretching like a cat in the wake of her satisfaction. So, so beautiful. My lips found hers for one last kiss before I pulled away and righted myself. The busy garage doors were starting to grate on my nerves, and after glancing toward the house entrance, I realized why they'd suddenly developed minds of their own. Two of the touch pads were hanging by threads, completely disengaged from the wall. One of us must have hit them accidentally when Alice first pounced. Cutting power from the switch box, I walked around the cars and manually pulled both doors into their closed positions. One more thing on the To Fix list.


I cringed as Rosalie's voice pierced my happy, post-coital buzz. Turning, I caught sight of her standing on the cement steps, hands on her hips, glaring at her sister, who quickly jumped off the Beemer and ran past her into the house. I swallowed and took a long, deep breath as I made my way back around. She chose to ignore me at first, all of her attention focused on getting the hood open. I slowed my stride as I rounded the back of the BMW, furiously contemplating following in Alice's footsteps as fast as my little legs could carry me. But, then Rose stepped around the side of the car, still holding up the hood, her gaze pinning me where I stood.


I smiled genially in an attempt to lighten the air. Why I thought this would work, I don't know. Rose's jaw clenched right before she pounded the underside of the hood, effectively un-denting the damage we'd caused. She let the hood drop, gravity taking over until it slammed back into place. Then she crossed her arms, her scowl deepening. It suddenly occurred to me how dry my mouth was. I would have to say something. Anything. It was the only way I could generate enough venom to keep my lips from sticking to my gums. And if I could diffuse a little of the tension in the process, all would be mostly right in my world.

After considering my options, I realized any kind of jokes or cheeky remarks were simply out of the question. Teasing Rose was the vampire equivalent of a human teasing a crocodile with a slab of meat. The end results tended to be excruciating and very, very messy. An apology – even a sincere one – was likely to merit me the same silent treatment I was already enduring, which might not necessarily be a bad thing, but I was feeling pretty optimistic after getting laid. I wanted to do better. Perhaps catching her off-guard…

"Roses are red, my love. Violets are blue." I turned up the charm as I sang, flashing her my most alluring gaze. Unsteady legs carried me closer to whatever fate I'd sealed for myself. "Sugar is sweet, my love. But not as sweet as you"

I'm no Bobby Vinton, but my calculated risk seemed to be paying off. Rose blinked at me, some of the ire melting from her expression, and when I'd sung the last line of the refrain, she finally rolled her eyes, turning her head to stare across the garage. I reached out to touch her chin, urging her to look back at me. When she did, I smiled softly and said, "I'm sorry, sweetheart." Then, in a moment of misguided enthusiasm, I leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Don't. Press. Your luck," she spat before I was able to make first contact.

I stilled, mid-pucker, and then slowly retreated. Not today, I guess. I shouldn't have been surprised, really. I'd already gotten farther than usual with my beautiful but elusive family member.

Family member.

The thought saddened me, as it always did. She wasn't truly my wife in any sense. Her anger and resentment over my turning her, along with her human misfortunes, hung between us like an ominous black vortex. She was more than aware of how much I loved her; I told her so at every available opportunity. I longed to express my love for her physically, though, to kiss and make love to her for days on end until I'd driven all the darkness away. We'd already spent the better part of a century locked in a bitter purgatory filled with oh, so much pain. It was almost too much to bear at times. I wanted her to be happy. I wanted us to be happy – together.

Gazing sadly at her, I took a chance and dragged the back of my index finger lightly down her cheek. It was a simple gesture of affection, and, amazingly enough, she didn't reject it. Moments like these always gave me hope, even if it would ultimately take centuries for the barriers between us to crumble. One day I would hold her in my arms; I was sure of it. One day she would be my wife. And it would be one of the happiest days of my life.

"I love you, Rose," I whispered, pulling back. She paused a moment, her gaze falling to the floor, before she stepped back around the front of the car, pretending to inspect for further damage. I allowed her the feigned distraction, knowing it was futile to try anything more. Picking up my medical bag, I reluctantly headed into the house.

The lively sound of Edward's practicing did wonders to pull me out of my immediate funk. There was animated chatter throughout the house, too. The sounds warmed my heart, and I felt a smile tugging at my lips once more. I adored my family. They were my own personal set of wondrous miracles. I loved each and every one of them with such ardor; even those with whom I shared no romantic ties meant the world to me.

"Yo!" Emmett hollered as he came in the front door. I'd just entered the foyer myself, preparing to set my medical bag down, when Alice cut me off, making a beeline for Emmett. A fraction of a second later, she had him pinned to the wall, the all too familiar scent of her arousal making my member twitch automatically. I watched them curiously for a few moments, only slightly surprised that she was being so blatant about her…ah, needs. This would happen from time to time, someone having a really big itch that needed scratching, though for reasons unknown it seemed to happen most often to Alice. If I didn't know she was clinically dead, I would order a hormone panel.

Naturally, Emmett was loving every minute of the attention, the two of them groping their way along the wall – and each other – until they unceremoniously fell through the open coat closet door. That was enough for me. Turning, I left them to their fun and headed into the living area where I was instantly wrapped in the severe strains of Rachmaninov's Prelude in G Minor. My favorite virtuoso pounded the keyboard with a passion that made my unneeded breath catch. He was positively riveting to watch. When it came to music, though, Edward was an open book. His choice of practice material tended to reflect his current mood, unless he was working on a performance piece for school. And I hadn't heard anything about Rachmaninov lately…

Coming up behind him, I leaned down, nuzzling his ear and whispering, "Do you have any idea what Russian music does to me?"

My playful tone had the intended effect – a grin broke through the somber expression he'd been wearing. Edward carried so much weight on his shoulders, his gift being more of a burden to him than an asset. I knew it overwhelmed him at times, despite his ability to tune out most of the extraneous noise. He was also a sensitive soul; even if he couldn't hear what people were thinking, I was convinced he would still be hyper-aware of the feelings of those around him. Most of our family were cheerful and upbeat, but I often worried that Rosalie's constant near-palpable mass of aggravation only fed the dark spiral of his moodiness.

Edward's fingers slowed to a standstill when I grasped his shoulders, massaging. Much to my relief, he relaxed into my touch, his head lolling backwards. I couldn't resist pressing a kiss to those sinful lips of his, which earned me an even bigger smile. "How was your day?" I asked, offering my unspoken support. If he needed to talk, I was here. Always.

"Long," he replied.

I shifted my ministrations, dragging my fingers through his unruly hair, and for a few minutes he was quiet. Then he gently pulled away and stood, turning to face me.

"Edward?" I prompted when he remained silent, his gaze drifting around the furniture. He looked puzzled.

"I'm picking up on some really funky stuff around here, Carlisle."

I quirked a brow. "Anything I should be concerned about?" Inside, I had a million and one possible scenarios playing out – most of them involving Rose and the blow torch she kept in the garage – but, I didn't want to presume the worst without hearing what Edward had to say.

"No, not really. I mean, the thoughts aren't even fully formed; they're like little blasts of weirdness, and it's all so random and…" he trailed off.


Edward looked a little sheepish. "Explicit."

My expression hardened just a fraction. We'd had this discussion before.

"I'm not eavesdropping," he offered quickly. "The thoughts are definitely being projected, and they have nothing to do with actual…intimate encounters. It's just so odd."

"I'm still not sure I understand what has you confused." I certainly was, but I was more than willing to stay that way so long as there was no discontent brewing within the family.

Edward finally looked at me, his voice quiet as he spoke. "Someone is having some seriously lustful thoughts about you, Carlisle."

My cock twitched at that, and I fought to keep my expression diplomatically neutral. Why, I wondered, hadn't that particular spouse simply come to me? I would be more than willing to oblige.

The corner of Edward's mouth tugged upward as he no doubt sensed my train of thought. "Well, that's just it," he continued. "It took me a while to pin down who it was that was broadcasting, and when I finally did––"

"Hey wussy piano boy!" Emmett's bellow was almost loud enough to rattle the windows. He came strutting into the living area wearing a huge grin. Between him and me, the room positively reeked of sex. "Did Alice bag you yet?" Emmett taunted.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Emmett."

"Oh, get a room!" Rosalie's growl made all of our heads turn. She was half-way up the stairs, gracefully stepping over the writhing mass that was…Alice and Jasper?

Emmett's laughter reverberated off the walls. "Way to go, Alice the Energizer Bunny!"

Sighing, I said, "Alice, Jasper – if you please." It was one thing to find a nook or an empty room in which to make love; with the acuteness of vampire hearing, true privacy was unattainable no matter where one was in the house. But, gratuitous displays were another thing altogether.

Jasper raised his head, murmuring, "Sorry," between kisses. Within seconds, he'd lifted Alice and disappeared upstairs.

"Feelin' a little left out there, Eddie?" Emmett prodded, both verbally and physically. He was really asking for it.

"Guys," I tried to placate, holding up my hands. The look on Edward's face was priceless. I could have sworn I saw shades of amusement blended in with the obvious irritation, but there was something else there, too, something I couldn't quite place. Ultimately, it didn't matter since I knew very well where this was headed.

"Feeling a little nervous there, Emmett?" Edward countered.

I blinked. Now, what in the world did that mean?

Apparently it struck a nerve with Emmett, though, because the look in his eyes took on a slightly wild cast. "You would, wouldn't you?"

Edward's eyes narrowed. "You got that right."

Before I had the chance to ponder what the hell they were talking about, Emmett lunged, tackling his brother. Fortunately, their trajectory took them right over the piano, but one of the end tables suffered a rather dramatic end. Esme would not be pleased. At all.

"Hey, hey!" I hurried over to the wrestling match, intending either to break it up or send them outside before we lost any more furniture. Mostly, I was concerned with the intense and somewhat unidentified air hanging between them. A friendly tussle between brothers wasn't unusual in this household; I just wanted to be sure the emotions involved weren't intentionally hurtful.

I was relieved to see that both of them were laughing as they fought for control. "Let's take this elsewhere, shall we?" I suggested. Heading for the patio doors, I slid one of them open. "Come on, you two – out!"

They struggled to their feet, still fighting, the various headlocks, twists, and parries making their trek across the room a lot more lengthy than it needed to be. I grinned as I watched them, grateful to have avoided a more serious confrontation. I was more than capable of controlling negative situations through verbal and physical force, if need be, but I never thrived on that sense of control like the Volturi brothers. I much preferred peace.

As they flew past me, one of them grabbed hold of my arm, yanking me into the fray. I should have expected it; this had happened on more than one occasion, but for some reason it always caught me by surprise. The three of us did an awkward dance around the back yard. I resisted at first, trying to escape their antics, but by the time Edward grabbed me from behind and body-slammed me into the ground, I was fully invested in the competition. Emmett tried to bull rush me several times without success. Edward wasn't so lucky. The poor tree that got in their way would no doubt provide us with firewood for many months.

We made an absolute mess of the yard – and each other – but in a way it was exhilarating just to let go and have some fun. In the end, after having been picked up and thrown bodily towards the house, I simply lay where I'd landed, acknowledging defeat. Still chuckling, I watched my companions as they continued to vie for the upper hand. Emmett had Edward in a choke hold, the two of them winding ever closer to my position. At the last moment, Edward swung his leg out, tripping Emmett, who reflexively let go and spun around to catch himself. Apparently he didn't realize where I was until he landed solidly on top of me.

Emmett's eyes went wide. So did mine. Somewhere in the distance, above Edward's hysterical laughter, a night bird cooed.

"Oh, shit," Emmett whispered, springing off of me faster than even I would have thought possible. He whirled around and then charged after his brother, letting loose with the filthiest tirade of profanity I think I've ever heard as they disappeared into the woods. In hindsight, I probably should have scolded him, but I was far too stunned to do much more than stare at the sky and wonder if he'd really had a banana stuffed down the front of his jeans.

Rubbing my face with both hands, I told myself not to over-analyze the incident. We're men. We were roughhousing. The emotional high, coupled with the close contact, would have been enough to cause such a physical reaction. I'm a doctor; I know these things. Sitting up, I blew out a lungful of air. "Perfectly normal," I reassured myself, ignoring the little niggling thread of doubt that wormed its way into the furthest recesses of my mind. Yes…perfectly normal. Getting up, I headed for the open patio door. Time to get back to the real world.

The remnants of the end table were badly splintered, though not as thoroughly destroyed as my dress shirt, I realized. It hung in tatters off my shoulders. I'd just held up my arms, examining the damage, when I sensed another's gaze on me. I looked up.


My darling Esme – the woman who kept our house so finely decorated; the woman who watched over all of us like a mother hen, nurturing and coddling; the woman who, judging by her rather perturbed expression and stance, probably expected more from me than ruined furniture and clothing. Rightfully so. Suddenly unsure of myself, I smiled, offering a little wave.

"Honestly, Carlisle," she chided. "You guys are worse than toddlers." Indeed. She pointed behind her. "Laundry room. Now."

I complied. Quickly. She followed me in, yanking off what was left of my shirt and dumping it into the trash bin.

"Off with the slacks," she continued, opening the washer and starting the fill cycle. "Socks, too. Your shoes will need to be cleaned and polished. You probably tracked dirt all over the house, too."

Suitably embarrassed, I stripped until I was dressed in nothing but my grey boxer briefs, handing each discarded article to Esme. God, she was sexy as hell when she was annoyed. Her long caramel locks were pulled back into a simple pony tail, her jaw set in a way that made her lower lip pout just a wee bit more than usual. Oh, how I wanted to kiss away all that displeasure.

She turned back to me, her gaze examining my form from head to toe. Her scrutiny had a rather warm and titillating effect on my nether regions. I smirked, expecting my charm to work its usual wonders. Instead, Esme said, "You think this is funny?"

I blinked, my smirk disappearing.

She didn't wait for me to answer. "I don't think this is funny at all. You and the other boys go through clothing like humans go through toilet paper. It's wasteful."

Had I not been so thoroughly dressed down – in all applicable senses – I might have considered lengthening this into a healthy discussion on extravagance versus economic stimulus, but since this was neither the time nor the place for such, I decided to go for broke. Softening my expression, I dropped my gaze to the floor and allowed my lips to droop. I made myself into a picture of repentance, even going so far as to hang my head and blink nervously. When the silence stretched uncomfortably long between us, I risked a glance at her. Ahh, those beautiful golden eyes held just the glimmer I was looking for. I couldn't have stopped my smirk from reappearing if I'd tried.

"You've got mud all over your face and arms," Esme scolded lightly, grabbing the laundry detergent. The traitorous quirk of her mouth told me exactly how upset she really was. That, and the soft, musky scent that wafted from beneath her sun dress.

I had her now.

Still grinning, I turned to the washbasin and bent over, switching on the hot water. The scalding heat felt good against my skin. I knew what would feel even better sliding against my skin, but I was biding my time, drawing out the excitement that hung between us like a live wire. Esme loved it when I exerted my dominance, so that's exactly what I had planned. Visions of backing her against the wall and holding her captive while I pounded into her warm, willing body assaulted me as I scrubbed my face. My cock wholly agreed with the plan, already standing at half-mast. Then something rather interesting happened…

I heard Esme close the lid on the washer. Fully expecting she would wait until I'd finished my ablutions, I was surprised to hear the determined click of her shoes against the tiled floor. She was leaving? Suddenly, from nowhere, the stinging smack of her palm against my ass fired every nerve ending in my body to full power.

"That's for ruining your clothes," she asserted, "and this," she walloped me again, "is for pretending to be Mr. Innocent."

I inhaled loudly as the impact reverberated from one end of me to the other, shamelessly forcing my member to full attention. Never, in all the ninety-plus years of this coven's marriage, had anyone spanked me before. The euphoric rush I felt acted like a drug to my system, my craving for it growing exponentially. Gripping the sides of the basin, my eyes flew open. Forget the coven leader taking control – I needed more of this!

"Thank you, sir! May I have another?" I whispered, reciting a line I'd heard once in a movie.

She'd started to walk away from me, but stopped at my utterance. I paused breathlessly, waiting. "Did you just call me 'sir'?" Oh, the indignation in her tone was music to my ears!

Within seconds, I was in heaven, the heavy hand of discipline rocking my world repeatedly, each blow pushing me to new heights of bliss. Why hadn't I thought of this sooner? In the past, I'd spanked several of my spouses during love play. Perhaps my position as our authority figure had been too much of a deterrent for any of them to suggest a role reversal? Thank goodness Esme had finally pressed the issue; this was beyond divine!

I arched my back, my body jolting with her established rhythm. "Thank you, thank you…" fell from my lips over and over again, the mantra rich with heartfelt emotion.

Abruptly, she stopped, which was probably for the best since I was mere moments away from spending myself, and I definitely wanted to be buried in her warmth when I finally did so. I let the pleasure of the final blow sizzle along my spine for a few breaths before I slowly straightened myself and turned off the faucet, grabbing a hand towel from the nearby shelf. As I dried myself, I let the calm, controlled demeanor of this coven's leader fall back into place. I'd had my punishment; now it was time for Esme's.

I turned to her, our gazes locking. Surprisingly enough, she was still in command mode, the defiance in her eyes unmistakable. Oh, this was going to be good…

The sound of someone crashing into the laundry room door frame broke the tension. I spun around, prepared to reprimand whoever was fighting inside the house again, but I stopped short when I saw who it was. Alice? She looked almost feral, her eyes glazed with lust as she panted quietly through kiss-swollen lips. A suspicious splotch of dirt on her skirt didn't escape my attention. Was she really looking for a second round? Already? But…wait a minute… Her gaze wasn't even fixed on me…

That thought had no sooner crossed my mind when Alice pounced, trapping Esme against the back wall. I watched, dumbfounded, as they kissed passionately, grinding against one another in a shameless display. When Alice slanted her head, I caught a glimpse of Esme's face. Her eyes were wide open, staring at me with such obvious amusement that part of me couldn't help but wonder if they'd somehow planned this little scene, purposely jilting me and the rather significant wood in my shorts. Another part of me delighted in the outcome, since watching the two of them together was deliciously tantalizing. They were so beautiful, so sexy…

"Umm," Esme said, breaking the kiss. Clearly, she was enjoying not only the attention but also my amazement at the turn of events. "Would you mind, Carlisle?" Alice was nuzzling Esme's neck, her hands roaming over all the luscious curves I thought I would have been enjoying by now.

I think I whimpered aloud. Pathetic, I know, but the thought of being left in such a state was mortifying. Forget that I was painfully aroused; I had no clean clothes to wear. I would have to walk through the house looking like this. Perhaps running was the better option.

Sighing in defeat, I tried to will my erection away. Unsuccessfully, of course. I would playfully torture both my wives for leaving me like this, but not tonight. Glaring at Esme, who shot me the most adorable innocent smile, I turned and sped out the door. I ran to the foyer first to grab my medical bag, and then headed for the stairs…where I skidded to a halt in front of Edward, who was leaning casually against the banister, a snarky smile plastered on his face. He smelled of mud, grass, and – unsurprisingly enough – Alice.

"Really, Carlisle?" he asked. "Spanking?"

I closed my eyes against the laughter that erupted. I briefly considered hauling him upstairs and taking all of my sexual frustrations out on him – something he would have probably enjoyed very, very much, but I was just annoyed enough to resist. I was well aware of the consequences of this little revelation, though. Foreplay with Edward already involved a great deal of dominance play; now that experience would no doubt be enriched in ways I couldn't possibly imagine. But again, that was for another time. Right now, I just wanted to find relief, most likely in the form of my own hand, and something to wear.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I passed by Edward, trying not to think about how I must look traipsing around the house wearing nothing but severely tented underwear. Once I'd reached the top of the stairs, I breathed a sigh of relief. My bedroom was only two doors away…


I nearly laughed at the absurdity of the situation when I heard Jasper's voice. I stopped, trying to cover myself out of modesty, but given that my penis, like the rest of me, is immeasurably stronger than the leather that my bag is made of, all I managed to do was emphasize the fact that I had a raging hard-on. Much to my relief, Jasper didn't acknowledge my condition in any way, focusing intently on my face.

"Thank you for loaning me your copy of The Prophets of Extremity," he said. "You were correct; the analysis of Nietzsche truly is masterful."

I smiled. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Jasper."

"I wonder, though, whether Megill fully clarified Derrida's theory of deconstruction."

Oh, I would have loved to sink my teeth into such a deep philosophical discussion. At any other moment in time but this one…

"What's your opinion on that evaluation?" Jasper continued.

I took a deep breath, not knowing how I was going to excuse myself without further embarrassment. Jasper's expression seemed so sincere; perhaps it really didn't bother him that I was standing here half-naked. Then again, maybe he'd picked up on all the silliness floating around, and was just adding his own brand to the mix. I decided to find out.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I stated matter-of-factly. If I was wrong, he wouldn't take offense.

His response was immediate, his lips curling into a grin. "Of course." I knew it.

My feigned lunge worked perfectly – Jasper jumped over the railing and disappeared into the living area, the sound of his and Edward's combined laughter making me shake my head in amusement. Apparently it was pick on Carlisle day in the Cullen house. And I'd enjoyed every moment of it so far.

The throbbing in my groin brought me back to the moment. Well, that and the sound of Rosalie leaving her room. Once again, I attempted to cover myself as she approached, silently cursing the fact that I couldn't seem to remove myself from this awkward set of circumstances fast enough. I expected a snide remark from her; I got a quirked eyebrow instead. I suppose that was progress of some kind, especially after our earlier encounter. Once she'd passed me, I hurried down the hall. I needed some privacy; I needed some peace and quiet; I needed relief in a big, big way.

Throwing the door to my bedroom open, I rushed inside and, for what seemed like the umpteenth time tonight, came to an abrupt halt. There, on my bed, propped against my pillows with her legs splayed wide, was my beautiful Angel. Her long hair hung in damp strands, and the only stitch of clothing she wore was a partially wet, short-cropped T-shirt with the words 'Bite Me' scrolled across her bosom.

The bottom lip she'd been worrying so seductively slid from between her teeth. "I think I might need a physical," she whispered.

My medical bag slipped from my grasp, falling to the floor with a muffled thud…

(~ * ~)

A coven leader's duty to his family is never-ending. I must always be there for them, in times of laughter and in times of sadness. Whenever I stop to think about it – which is often – it's very sobering for me to realize that I hold their happiness and safety in my hands. I've tried hard to shield them from the worst of vampire society, at the same time making sure they understand the realities of our world. Is it difficult being the head of this family? Yes, without question. As a husband, I must be certain my spouses feel loved and satisfied. As a leader, I must weigh important decisions, provide counsel when needed, and remain strong in the face of adversity. Each and every moment with my family is precious, though, regardless of what's happening. The obligations aren't really obligations at all as much as they are gifts to a man who once knew nothing but misery and solitude. I am now content and fulfilled in ways I never dreamed were possible. The love I hold for my family knows no bounds. And this is why you will never, ever hear me complain. About anything.

Even when Rose disconnects the spark plugs on my car for making her listen to me sing.

(~ * ~finis~ * ~)

Anyone pick up on the film reference? Classic…

Story Rec!

Be sure to check out BookwormBaby2580's newest story, Original Sin – it's pure awesomeness! Flawed, tormented, sexy-as-hell Professor!Carlisle embarks on a relationship with Bella, a young university student with a heart of gold. This roller coaster ride is filled with enough angst, romance, and raw heat to satisfy everyone!