My love & thanks goes to kewlwhip – if it weren't for her kicking my procrastinating ass & 'suggesting' US terms for certain words, I would not have this badboy to put out there in the world of sexin-up Mr. Cullen. Also to bellanoche0428 who pre-read along with kewlwhip. Those twatterville girls who encouraged me with certain images – you know who you are – you know how to inspire me.

Disclaimer: As we ALL know, Twilight belongs to SM. I just own many things to do with Edward & Rob(we all need something pretty to look at) & the setting, plot, characteristics & history are also mine.

Rating: 'M'... if you're under 18, move along please.

This story contains adult themes of almost everything.

Every Touch Tells a Story

Chapter One

Heavy Handed



She wiggles, just a little. I love it when she does this–whether she's awake or asleep. That wiggle is a move closer to me, into me. I've been dreaming of her, maybe she's been dreaming of me too. I smile inside at the thought of it, though I'm not sure if it forms on the outside as I'm so worn out I don't know if I can move much at all. Just the slightest movement from her though, and my body instantly reacts to her; moves to her. It's an automatic reaction that I have no control over. Why the fuck would I want to control it. It's perfect. It's right. It's us.

I'm stranded in that space in time where I'm rousing from my deep slumber but can't quite wake up. I'm exhausted, but want to spend as much time with her as possible, whilst I get the chance. I know that at some point one of us will have to rush off and be at a class, burying ourselves in research or me doing endless hours at the hospital. I've always known it would be worth it in the end though; I've always had faith in science. I knew that if I put in the hours and the hard work, that eventually my efforts would be rewarded. My parents taught me that. We just had to get through this tough time.

There's nothing in this world I love more than the feeling of Bella wrapped up in my arms in bed. She's squirming a little; probably dreaming again. I hold her closer, hoping the dream is just a sweet one, so that she may start mumbling my name like usual. To know that I'm in her dreams gives me even more confidence in myself, in us.

She starts rubbing her ass back and forth, grinding the juicy cheeks against me. I now know that I've got a smirk on my face, but I'm not quite awake enough to do anything else at the moment. Wow, these hospital hours are seriously kicking my ass. I feel her lean forward a little, and then she slides her hand behind her and runs a finger and thumb along the length of my cock; squeezing as if to check it's hard enough. My girl knows she only has to wiggle that ass near me when I'm asleep, and I'm always ready for her no matter what. My hips thrust forward into her hand, into her. Her fingers move to my waistband and pull on the ties to my scrubs. It's the best thing about scrubs, easy access. The relief I feel at my cock being released just from that thin piece of cotton alone makes want to rejoice. The thought of her getting my cock out from its last form of prison is fucking ecstasy. Fingers roughly pull at my boxer briefs. I'm definitely already hard when she grabs me. Grab being the prime word here. Naturally, I flinch at her roughness, but hear Emmett in my head telling me to grow a pair. Then grimace at myself for thinking of Emmett while I've got a hand wrapped round my cock.

I bury my face in her hair, completely obliterating the chance of any other thoughts from entering my head by dragging as much of her scent in as possible. I want to drown in Bella. Huh, she must be trying a new shampoo. It smells a bit chemically. Too many scents fighting with each other. Fuck, Cullen, concentrate.

She's really tugging on my cock now. I need to relax, stop thinking about it so much. Just let it happen. If I relax, she'll relax. But fuck she's being so rough; she must really be desperate for some Cullen lovin'.




It's just because she's at an awkward angle. Yeah, that's it...an awkward angle.

My fingers trace their familiar trail across the perfection of Bella. I still feeling like I'm dreaming, even as the tips of my fingers slowly reach across her stomach, knowing that in moments they will gingerly making their way down. I don't even need to actually touch her because I can remember my dream of her so well. My breath hitches again just at the thought of feeling for Bella's cute landing strip of ebony. It seems like a life time since I've touched her, felt her, consumed her. That little landing strip is my guide to the promised land. I grin wondering if she'd had it made into the shape of an arrow as a surprise for me like we had joked about so many times. Not that I needed any directions or anything. I thought it would look hot. No-one else would see it so, why not?

Thankfully, Bella didn't like to wax or shave everything. She said she thought she would look like a little girl, which would be way too weird. I had to agree. I love the feel and look of that strip of those ebony rich hairs. It's the transfer from feathery to silky-smooth, juicy lips. Lips I want to suck on. The darkness to the light; it's the journey towards my heaven.

I eagerly slip my fingers under her waist band, and start to reach around her hip, down towards the dip of her pelvis; I find that my Bella is going commando. My head tilts forward in a move that I have done since Bella and I had finally taken the plunge, and confessed our feelings for one another. I can never resist it, and she often giggles at how often I caress, lick, suck and nibble this one part of her that essentially made me admit – even if only to myself at that time – that I was in love with her.

Bella's left earlobe.

The tiny scar there on her delectable earlobe has always got me. Each and every single time I see it, rub my thumb over it, suck it in my mouth and run my tongue over the tiny pale ridge, I'm thrown back to the moment I first touched Bella. The cut on her left earlobe had led to me stroking my fingers across her cheek. Just that gentle caress had an affect on my fingers, on my body, my whole being, that I never thought possible. My eyes fixed to hers in awe, as the sensation shot through me; penetrated me to my core, via every cell, all in a split second. Deep, burning, all-consuming; all over me, right through me. Bella and I had actually gasped and stepped back from each other with the overwhelming, intense awareness of each other in that moment. It was exquisite. And even though I already knew Bella was where all my thoughts began and ended, in that moment it hit me, Bella was where my life began and ended as well.

I grin as I'm almost to her earlobe.

"Ow, fuck!"

"Sorry baby, I'll try and be more careful with my nails."

I freeze.

Body, breath, everything.

Well not quite everything. My mind is doing its own swirling and stuttering; I can't think clearly. I'm in such shock that I can't get my thoughts in order at all. And if there's a time I needed to get my thoughts in order it was fucking now.

Think, Cullen, think.

I smell her hair again. Not strawberries.

My hand is already there ready to feel her with the tips of my fingers. To feel that soft strip that leads me to the place that is paradise. Just the slightest movement to feel for that strip. She moans. Completely bare.

Even with my cocked being jerked like its a fucking Olympic event, it dawns on me that Bella doesn't have nails. Well, not long enough to potentially rip the skin off my dick anyway. I jerk my hand away from that bald pussy and out of her pants as my eyes shoot open. Yes Cullen, you're awake now aren't you.

My eyes squint trying to focus; first on her hair that is chemically treated and not beautifully natural like my Bella's, and then moving down to the hand in my pants. I grab the orange tanned arm away from my almost battle-worn cock, and jump over her; off the bed. I stand there staring so fucking stunned I can't even speak. The only thing that enters my head is at least it's a female that had her hand on my cock, because Emmett would never let that one go if it hadn't been.

My cock is as shocked as me. I think it's fucking hiding just like I want to. Urgh, I feel dirty. I mumble shit to myself whilst trying to scramble to rearrange my... well, everything.

Then there's hands on me. Hands with nails. Hands with fake fucking nails that probably have skin under them from my dick. Fuck, my poor dick. I'm already grabbing the hands that should have never been anywhere near me and especially my cock and shoving them away from me. I can feel myself getting ready to explode, and not in the good way I wanted to a few minutes ago.

I interrupt the fake, sickly-sweet blabbering that's coming out of her mouth.

"What the fuck was that?" I don't give her the chance to reply; I'm just so fucking stunned. "What were you doing?" Yes, I know it's a stupid question. I know she was jerking my cock like she was ringing a church bell, but what the hell am I supposed to say.

Hands with the nails come at me again. Try to calm me, try to sooth me. Fuck that.

"How did... when did you... why the fuck were you in bed with me?" Yeah, that seemed like the most important question. Why was she in bed with me, here of all places. I could lose my job, my career, over this shit. No-way is that happening. There isn't anything left in my life, apart from my family, worth risking everything I had worked for. Most of all the heavy handed whore in front of me.

"I would of thought that was obvious, Edward. I know you want me; I proved that just now." The bitch actually smirked at me. "Your cock was soooo hard for me." More of the hands trying to touch, rub, grab. I can't believe she's still trying to get in my pants. Again.

"Don't fucking touch me," I said, whilst stepping back, trying to push her, guide her away. Away from me, and especially away from cock. I need to scrub my cock fucking asap. Swabs. Fuck, I'm going to have to take swabs from my own cock. I've seen her hanging off other doctors in the hospital and in the bars. Spreading her legs to anyone with any sort of status or money, just hoping that she can latch on to some poor unsuspecting soul that may fall for her. She was a gold-digging whore masquerading as being a kind, caring nurse. Most worked this out quickly; usually when she sucked their cocks within hours of meeting them. Shit, I've even walked in on her whilst she was sucking Dr. Clapp's cock in the medical supplies room. I drop my head forward, staring towards my cock. At least she scrubs her hands for work. Crap, what if it was her mouth on my cock when I woke up. Fuck that, the dirty, diseased whore-mouth that she is.

"Don't give me that crap, Edward, you were enjoying it. I see you looking at your cock now." She steps towards me again. "Want me to finish it for you baby, suck it all down real good."

My head snaps up; my mind finally catching up with what I have to do. I've to get her away from me and most importantly, away from my cock. If at all possible, permanently. I take a large, deep breath and try to pull myself together. With determination, I stand up straight, use my full height to my advantage to try and take control of this ridiculous situation I had woken up to. I need to think logically, professionally; after all, I'm in my work place. If I can't be professional here then what was the point of all the years of my training. Not for waking up with some skanky whore with her hands down my pants, that's for sure.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me." I pull in another chest full of air as calmly as possible, trying my hardest not to give in to the urge to drag the dirty whore out by her hair, and tell everyone how she thinks it's okay to take advantage of a man whilst he's asleep. Although sleeping would have definitely been an understatement; I think I was unconscious from sheer exhaustion.

I could see by the look on her face that she still didn't get it. She thought I was messing with her.

"Look, you don't have to play hard to get any more. I. Want. Your. Cock." She's rubbing her breasts. She's actually standing in front of me, rubbing her breasts and telling me she wants my cock, when I've told her not to touch me. I rub my eyes hard in desperation with the heal of my hands; hoping that this is just some nightmare I'm about to wake up from. What the fuck is wrong with this girl. "Mmmm fuck, Edward, I'm so wet. You made me this wet for you." She's wiggling about all weird like she's trying to grind on something. I'm starting to wonder if she has a medical condition. Some sort of sex addiction. She obviously doesn't understand rejection at all. Yes, there has to be something wrong with her. Kluver-Bucy Syndrome maybe? Whore-itis more like.

Her talking of being wet has made some bile rise in my throat; I've realised I've just rubbed my eyes with my hands; one of which has been on her probably diseased-ridden, cock-destroying pussy. Thankfully I'd only touched her pussy with the tip of two fingers for a second. Shit, did I put my fingers anywhere else on me, like in my hair as usual? I dive towards the sink in the corner and start scrubbing my hands under the hot water, and pay particular attention to those two fingers of my left hand, around my short nails and especially under. Just in case. No, I'm sure I didn't touch anything else with them. There's not enough antibacterial hand wash in the world to get the feeling of this skank off my hands. I want to scrub my cock too but I dare-n't get it out with the orange cockanator still in the room; she'd zoom straight in on that. I lean over the sink to wash my face free from the possibility of any 'wetness' that more than likely contains many other things. Urgh, I don't even want to think of the possibilities. I even wash up my nostrils as much as possible needing to get rid of the chemical-skank smell.

I glance over my shoulder wary of her trying to touch me again. The adrenaline is pumping through my veins from the shock, but I can still feel the exhaustion in the background. I have no idea how long I've slept as I can't remember what time it was when I came in here. Was I alone when I came in? Yes, I was alone, so how the fuck did she end up in bed with me? I grab a few paper towels after realizing I won't feel any better or cleaner than I do at the moment. Dirty whore. I start to vigorously wipe my face with the paper towels, even my nostrils, and step on the lever to open the bin next to the sink and throw those in. I then grab more to try and remove, eradicate any possible remaining nastiness. I turn to her wanting answers as I continue to forcibly remove whatever I can from my hands. She's still got one hand on her breast squeezing it hard and the other is over her mouth and nose. Her eyes are closed and she's still making moaning noises, and holy shit, is she . . . she is, she's smelling her hand. I could hear her taking long deep breathes; sniffing, dragging the smell up through her nostrils. The smell from her hand. The smell of me. The smell of my fucking cock.

"What the fuck?"

Her eyes shoot open and focus on me. Zone in on me, looking purposeful, daring. She disturbingly grins, and then runs her thumb over bottom lip. I want to run and hide. She's freaking-me-the-fuck-out right now. I just have no idea what she's going to do or try next. I need to get out of here. What if someone walks in and saw this? Shit, what if someone walked by and heard her moaning. Fuck.

"Mmmm, Edward, you smell so good. I can't believe how big you are, well I knew you were big that much is obvious from the package you got fully loaded there..." glancing down to where she's pointing at my package, which most definitely is not 'fully-loaded' at the moment, I instantly cover myself with my hands even though I'm pretty sure that my dick is either still in hiding or may have fallen off from the possible disease "...I could barely hold it in my hand... I'm sure I could suck you off though and I know I could ride it. Fuck, I just want to eat you." She's getting more excited, higher pitched and louder. Drawing too much fucking attention is what she's doing.

I think my eyebrows just joined my hair 'cause I'm sure they couldn't rise any fucking further if they tried. Shocked as fuck, slightly panicked, most definitely disgusted and to be honest a little fucking scared because she was talking about eating me, I step back a little even though I know I have nowhere to go. The way she was just sniffing her hand and the way she's looking at me now and snapping her teeth at me, she was looking more than a tad psychotic. She smirks at me again, and opens her mouth and licks all the way up her palm and fingers—even her nails.

"Oh fuck, you taste even better that you smell," she garbles around her fingers, which were now all the way in her mouth like she was deep-throating them. Then it dawns on me that she's still trying to seduce me. Did she not see me trying to scrub her off me just now. My mouth is hanging open in shock, but it obviously gives her the wrong impression because she moves towards me again, all predator-like. I hold my hands up to her in warning, still with the paper towels in them.

"You will not touch me, you will not come near me!" I state, as firmly as possible.

"You were hard... but, it's okay I can get you hard again. I know it's been a while but I'll soon take care of that!"

Stunned doesn't even come close to what I am in this moment. I have to get myself together and get the hell out of here.

"I was hard 'cause I thought you were someone else!" You fucking sex obsessed lunatic, I added in my head. I glare at her in disgust; sure that my face is more than a little green with how my stomach is churning. I want to vomit; partly from the thought of being hard with this dirty-whore-mouthed bitches – even my mother wouldn't give me the look for saying it about this woman – hand being around and killing off my dick and partly for knowing it wasn't Bella I held in my arms. Or ever would again.

She gasps with a look of shock on her face. I feel a little relief at the thought that she finally gets it; finally grasps some understanding of what happened, of why I was hard. Not for her, never for her. My feeling of ease is brief as her face suddenly looks like a light bulb has gone off in her head. Fuck, what now?.

She starts giggling, "Oh no, you're not still on that are you?" She's giggling to herself now with her hand over mouth. What the fuck is she talking about now? "Shit, I thought Lauren was joking or at the very least exaggerating." The dirty whore-mouth is full on laughing now. Laughing at me. I'm confused as hell, but all I can really think is that I need to get out of here. Out of this fucking nightmare.

While she's bent over laughing at me, almost choking. I see my chance and slide passed her keeping my hands over my cock. You know, just in case. I'm get out through the door feeling quick and stealthy, but still feeling very protective of my cock when I realise there's probably people around and it wouldn't be good for a doctor, to be caught in the hallway of a hospital with his hands on his cock, even if I do have scrubs on. Especially an Obs and Gynae doctor. Or as Emmett calls me Doctor pussy; was Doctor of pussy but he's taken the of out in recent months. Fucker.

I covertly smooth down my scrubs, still with the paper towels in my hand, because it's the only thing I can think of doing to move my hands away from my cock without it being completely obvious that I was cupping it. My cock that needs scrubbing. I make a dash to the medical supplies room and start scanning through the shelves and racks for something to clean my cock with.

"Is there something I can help you with Dr. Cullen?"

"Argh, crap," I shriek. I can do a manly shriek can't I? "Oh my god Maggie, you scared me to death... I... uh, I didn't see you back there."

"Yes, I gathered that Dr. Cullen, you seem to be a bit... preoccupied shall we say."

Preoccupied? Yeah you could say that. I just had a heavy-handed, dirty-whore-mouthed skank shredding my cock. Of course I didn't say that out loud, I just um'd and ah'd and generally made myself look like bumbling idiot. Maggie glanced down at my hands with a question look on her face which made me realise I was wringing the fuck out if the paper towels. After what had just happened my brain was a mess and ready to stick the 'out of order' sign up at any minute. Thankfully, Maggie, took pity on me and didn't question what was going on.

"Dr. Cullen... Edward, you're working too hard, you're exhausted. You need a break; Its not good for you. I know you want to be the best and help all the mothers you can and especially those precious little ones as much as possible but, Edward, with all the hours here and the research and... well I know you're avoiding things and its–"

She had raised her hand moving it to rest it on my forearm, trying to comfort me, but I knew if she did, it would probably break down my last thin wall of defence right now if I had any sort compassion shown to me. I just had to cut her off. "I'm a little tired but, I'm okay; my shift finishes soon and I'll get some sleep then." I made a move to turn and to leave her to the organising and re-checking of the supplies; the hub of any ward as she called it.

Maggie has run this ward with care and precision for years even before my father started working here. And although Carmen is the chief in this area, the top expert in all things mother and baby, Maggie is the one that made sure everyone did their job; made sure that their job was done to the best of their abilities by ensuring everyone is trained, organised and cared-for. There has been the odd exception though. Her priority is the patients just like all of us – well most of us, the odd exception being that dirty whore. She made sure every piece of equipment, every person that came through the doors was where they were supposed to be, doing what they were supposed to do. To Maggie, taking care of us, the staff, and the organisation of the ward safeguarded against any additional risks to the patients. She was someone to look up to; the lead to follow in any given emergency. She was an example in how to be the best nurse at any level. It was her calling she always said; that I understood. If only certain others had that calling.

I have to escape her flying into a lecture that I couldn't deal with right now or again. I'd had the same one off my mother a few days ago and several times over the last six months. And not just from my mother either; family, friends, colleagues had all said the same thing, "Move on Edward, she's not coming back." Of course, at first they just patted me on the back and gave me the "she just needs a break" speech, but it wasn't long and painfully obvious before I realised she wasn't coming back. That's when I went from crestfallen and desperately lonely to completely heartbroken with a side of anger. In my misery I took the idiotic advice that I should go and get wasted;try and fuck her out of my system. Yeah, that didn't work.

"Edward, are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine, honestly"

"But you need to talk about things, you need–"

"What I need is to get back to work. Sorry Maggie, but I don't have time for this right now." The stress and strain of everything which had happened is pushing my patience to the edge, and Maggie is the last person along with my parents that I would ever want to disrespect and take my anger out on.

I immediately turn to leave before I say something I would really regret. Swinging the door open and moving back out into the corridor, I see the dirty whore just coming out of the on-call room still giggling. Fuck, I still need to clean my cock. I head for the only safe place I can think of at the moment; fortunately it's in the opposite direction of the heavy-handed one. Yes, I feel like a pussy running away into the men's bathroom, yet I can't find an ounce of me to care as long as I get to avoid those hands and thinking anything about it right now. The problem is that the one thing I spend a great deal of effort trying to forget is now at the forefront of my mind. Bella.

I check the few bathroom stalls to my right to make sure I'm alone, and breathe a sigh of relief of them being empty and getting to have a moment to myself. The usual disinfectant smell of the bathroom is calming in a way; it reminds of when I have to concentrate on my job and zone in on what needs to be done. And what needs to be done right now is to clean that skank off my cock. Finally depositing the twisted paper towels in the bathroom trash can, I take a few deep breathes and lean my hands on the sink. I stare at my hands. More specifically at the two fingers on my left hand which I'm wishing I could trade or at least bleach the fuck out of them; I'd like to bleach it out of my brain too.

I remove my watch and place it on the beige counter near the sink. I'm questioned often why I still wear it and I always give the same bullshit excuses that it's a great watch, keeps excellent time, it's comfortable. In reality it often feels like it weighs a tonne with the weight of it's meaning and memories; but I'm not ready to part with it as it would feel like I'm giving up that last connection to her. They know my excuses are lies.

Glancing at the watch to time myself as I start scrubbing my hands again to make sure I put in the full six minutes this time. I make the effort to scrub my forearms as well as my hands and nails, like I'm prep-ping for surgery; I'd rather picture that in my head than the real reason. Dirty, heavy-handed whore! I splash some cold water on face when the six minutes of scrubbing and rinsing is up to try and refresh myself, but make the mistake of looking up into the mirror in front of me only to see myself glaring back at myself and looking thoroughly distressed. I quickly throw more water on my face trying to either remove the look from my face, or at the very least pretend it's not there.

My dick, I need to scrub my dick.

I quickly put my watch back on and push the elastic strap of it up my arm to keep it from getting wet. Gripping another handful of paper towels–I should buy shares in these damn things at this rate–I dry my hands, arms and face and trash them before taking three out this time to hopefully help clean any nasty skankness off my dick. Shit, I need more paper towels than that if I'm going to manage this without making my scrubs look like I've pissed myself. Plus, I need to do it in one of the cubicles; as possibly being seen with my hands on my cock in the hallway and then being caught in the bathroom with my cock out would not be good.

More fucking paper towels. I don't know whether to love them or loath them right now because although they are saving me from feeling completely skankified, I know that these fuckers aren't going to be the most gentlest thing on my dick especially when it's already been scared to death and is feeling a little tender. Shit, I feel like my dick has been tenderized like a piece of steak. I quickly assemble what I need making sure most of the warm water is squeezed out of the two paper towels I'm going to use to try and wash and rinse my dick. I get a squirt of the blue antibacterial hand wash on one of the wet paper towels and try to lather it up a little. I know this isn't recommended, but I feel it's necessary. I lay out one paper towel on the counter top with several folded on top and several more laid out on top of those. Mentally I'm behaving like I'm preparing for surgery. No, I don't want to feel like I'm operating on my dick, but in stressful situations I have found that doing things in a logical and methodical manner makes it easier because you're more focused on what has to be done rather than the stress. Those thoughts of what could happen in the worst possible scenario are at the back of your mind instead of being at the forefront which would cause you to make serious mistakes.

Tilting my head a little I try and listen if there's anyone about to come in whilst glaring at the bathroom door. I head towards the cubicles with my improvised decontamination kit looking for one which already has the lid down on the toilet. I take a deep breath of the disinfectant scented air, which if I'm honest is a little shaky. Not sure if that's from what has happened or from the thought of someone coming in here right now. I have never used the bathrooms anywhere for anything other than to take a leak, and wouldn't for anything else unless it's a major emergency; it's so clean you could eat off it and also there's no-one else in there–but this is a fucking emergency if there ever was one. They all know about my bathroom avoidance. Apparently my mother thinks it's fun to tell 'cute' little stories about me when she's had a few too many at the Christmas party. I had purposely rented an apartment as close to the hospital as possible, not only because it would be easier for me to get more hours in, but also so I could use my own bathroom whenever I needed. I just don't want to share ass space with anyone else – well almost anyone else. The things people do in these places are just freaky and disgusting. Fuck, I'm about to become one of them.

I lock the door to the cubicle and jiggle it checking it's firmly closed and there isn't a chance of it opening until I want it to. I still have the two wet paper towels in my right hand and so with my left I carefully lay the the dry ones on the lid making sure the ones I'm going to use are safe. Safe from falling, safe from the lid, safe from the germs. Well as much as possible.

Whilst staring ahead I pull on the ties to my scrubs. I'm a little afraid at what I might find, and give my shoulders and neck a little shake and stretch hoping to snap myself out of this absurdity. I'm acting like an alien's going to shoot out of my pants. How the fuck did I end up in hospital bathroom cubicle needing to decontaminate my possibly alien-dick? I can smell that dirty-mouthed-whore's fake, chemical stench of foulness on my scrubs even though the strong smell of disinfectant was still prominent. Getting clean scrubs are definitely next on my list after tending to my dick.

I'm not sure if I'm hiding from my dick or he's hiding from me. Who's scared the most... I don't know. Making the effort to man-the-fuck-up, I lightly smooth my fingertips over my pants feeling the outline of my cock. I think I'm checking it's still there.

I had every intention of getting in here and getting this over and done with, with speed and preferably a blank mind, but fuck if I can make myself move faster or make my mind into that desired barrenness. I don't want to think about what had happened, and I don't want to have memories of Bella bombarding my mind while I'm at work. I'm so disappointed with myself that even after not seeing her for what seemed like an eternity, I still thought it was her in my arms. Still thought it was her I was touching and her touching me.

I decide to just go for it; get it over and done with. This over-thinking isn't getting me anywhere. Spreading my legs a little so my scrubs won't fall on the floor of the bathroom cubicle, I ease them, along with my boxer briefs, down a little at a time moving my left hand from hip to hip. I pull them out and over my cock and let them sit just below my balls. It's a little awkward doing it with one hand, but I had done it many times when Bella begged me not to stop touching her. Like she had to beg. I never wanted to stop touching her in anyway at any time.

I still haven't looked down yet being so worried at what I might find. I'm half expecting there to be false nail stuck under my foreskin. No, I'd feel that surely. The thought alarms me and so I quickly look down to check I am indeed nail-less in the cock area. Big fucking sigh of relief is an understatement. I tenderly touch my cock with appreciation; promising to protect him from any further skankiness. I carefully apply a little pressure here and there, and move it about to generally inspect it. There are a few light scratches but I can't see anything too serious that would warrant any medical help from anyone other than myself. My balls have thankfully made it through the ordeal unscathed. Now to tend to the unseen plague on my dick. It's decontamination time. Any germs, disease, infection, any traces of the dirty whore have to be removed. I hadn't worn a condom for every sexual encounter I'd ever had for my dick to be defiled and desecrated by that tramp.

I realise that I'm leaning on my forearm up against the side of the cubicle with the wet paper towels still in my hand. Probably out of relief maybe out of desperation of what I'm doing and dealing with. I try to centre myself by taking a deep breath and push myself of the side to finish this. I'm still standing with my legs apart to keep my pants up because I don't want any of the crap on the floor to get on my pants or anything else even though I'm going to change them as soon as I get out of here. I pick up those few paper towels from the top of my assembled pile – the open, laid out ones – and cup them under my balls so I'm ready to catch anything that falls off. Including my dick. If I have a small wet patch I'll look like either I didn't shake enough after a leak or that I've been leaking pre-cum. Again not a good look for a doctor in a hospital, especially one on an Obs and Gynae ward. If I had a large wet patch well I'll just look I pissed myself. Growing up with Emmett for a brother, I became paranoid as he always spotted this type of thing on anyone and wouldn't let it go until he found something else to rib about. Sometimes never. One jock friend of Emmetts went right through high school with the nick name stain. Some people would have been mortified but he was took this name and used to his advantage telling people it was because he could never be removed; from the football team or from a circle of friends. They loved him even more for this and it led to him gain quite a bit of female attention according to Emmett.

I gently wash my cock and balls almost just dabbing at them with the soapy side of scrunched paper towels. The scratches from the nails sting a bit but it's nothing too serious. At least the towels are a lot softer when wet. I come to a standstill in washing my cock as I'm stuck in being able to pull my foreskin back to clean any of her remains away as my one hand is full with a wad of wet paper towels and the other is cupping dry paper towels under my balls to catch any drips. Fuck.

The memory of a similar situation of not having enough hands springs to mind, and a smile automatically spreads across my face as I close my eyes embracing the memory. It feels good to have a natural smile for once; haven't had a lot of genuine ones lately.

Time hadn't been on our side as Bella and I hadn't had any time together all of that week. We were lucky to get a few texts to each other a day and agreed not to send anything remotely sexual otherwise I'd be walking around with a permanent boner. I'd get fired, lose my placement, probably mauled by a certain few co-workers and be in pain and blue-balled all in one day. So sexting was a definite no.

Bella however was not to be deterred. Another reason why I loved her.

I had finally made it home for the first time in a couple of days. It was early on a Sunday morning, and I was struggling to get my keys in the door whilst holding a stack of research papers, my bag of fresh laundry courtesy of my mom, along with her daily delivery of the tastiest breakfast known to man and a travel mug full of sweet, rich hot chocolate. I tried to move things about in my arms and hands. Carefully manoeuvring each item from place to place finally ending with the last overly large bite of my breakfast hanging out of my mouth whilst the rest of the items precariously balanced as best as possible.

I almost had the key to the lock when the door flew open and I was grabbed by the front of jacket, pulled into the apartment swiftly without word or even breath. Fortunately, I wasn't so sleepy that I did manage to realise it was Bella and not some deranged lunatic attacking me. But only after I made muffled squeak through the breakfast firmly wedged in my mouth.

Attack. I was being attacked. Attacked by the most glorious being who seemed to look ravenous.

She slammed the door shut and pushed me back against it. I panicked at first thinking Bella had lost her mind and was angry at me for... what I didn't know though. My eyebrows were raised high; firstly from the shock but kept there by Bella's vehemence. I wanted to know why she was so eager. She looked hot and flustered. I couldn't move or speak with all the paperwork balanced in one arm with keys clenched in hand, and my bag of laundry on other arm with hot chocolate in that hand and the damn breakfast still jammed in my mouth.

Hands were rubbing my cock through my scrubs, which was hard within seconds. He was more than ready for anything as long as he came at some point.

This was why she looked hot and flustered. I needed to get rid of this shit in my hands; put my breakfast somewhere, anywhere because it was to big to manoeuvre into my mouth and actually chew. I was starving, hadn't eaten for twelve hours but eating Bella would more than suffice for now though. Fuck, I could live off her pussy if I had to.

Bella looked right into my eyes as I tried to mumble about the stuff in my hands and mouth. She smirked and just dropped to her knees, right there with me up against the front door. I couldn't believe what she was doing. Don't get me wrong I was the furthest from unhappy you could get, but I was trapped. Couldn't just drop everything; Bella and I may get burnt with the hot chocolate and also I couldn't drop the paperwork as it was the results of thousands of hours research and test results. I could kick myself for not bothering with a bag because I only lived a minute or two away. And I'm pretty sure Bella didn't want my half-mauled breakfast tumbling onto her head.

I tried to mumble around the food again to get her attention. I looked at her with wide eyes when she stripped off my shirt she had been wearing, taking one arm out at a time whilst keep the other pressed on my abdomen, making sure I didn't move an inch. My muscles flexed and writhed under the pressure of her hand. My dick pounded against her wrist trying to beat his own path to her touch. Now she was left in only her fluffy bed socks. No underwear at all. Sitting back onto her feet, knees spread just enough to show me what I needed to see, she looked up at me and smirked, raising her one eyebrow in torment. I wanted her right-the-fuck-now and she was teasing me, forcing me to let her have control of the situation. Of me.

Total control of me.

She raised her finger to her juicy lips. "Shhhh," she whispered to me with a deliciously, devilish smirk. A teasing grin that showed she knew exactly what she was doing to me. I just stood there–didn't have a choice–dumbfounded and more than a little proud of the woman my Bella had become. She was oozing with self-confidence and it turned me on even more. She sucked that same finger in her mouth and looked up at me through her thick lashes with hooded eyes. "Mmmm." She made a show of running her tongue around her finger and then added the next. She was tasting her fingers. Then it dawned on me why she was so hot and flustered before I had even got here. She had been masturbating in my apartment whilst wearing my shirt. My shirt that I had worn, that probably smelled of me.

She was tasting herself. Fuuuuck me.

Bella opened my jacket up with her other hand and lifted my scrub top away from my body. She slipped those two fingers out of her mouth and reached up under my scrubs top and rubbed those two fingers over my left nipple, giving it a little tug between them now and again.

She was making me more frustrated and I'm sure she was doing it on purpose. Bella wanted me to explode with lust. The overload of sexual desire was going to kill me if I didn't have my dick in something soon.

Bella answered my needful groan with fingers enveloping my cock through my scrub pants. Wet fingers still teasing my nipple into little bullets. Her nipples begged me to return the favour, to suck on them too. I was sure I could actually hear them calling me. I wanted in on this nipple action going on. I wanted to suck them into my mouth. Pull them with my teeth whilst fucking her into oblivion. I wanted my cock so deep inside her – mouth, pussy, between her tits, anywhere would do as long as it was part of Bella. I couldn't help it. She did this to me. She was driving me insane. The need I had for her was insatiable. I could never get enough of her.

I had to close my eyes for a moment, to calm myself. Had to concentrate on not dropping my food on Bella's face. She'd probably never go on her knees for me again. Praise to the dozens of people who invented the various forms of spill proof containers for beverages, otherwise I know Bella would have caused me to spill the hot chocolate several times by now. I clung onto it like it was a life-giving source, even though was Bella was my real life-giving source. At that moment I felt like she was going to suck my very soul out of me. She can have it, all of it, everything I am.

I heard her take in a deep breath which made my eyes shoot open to look down at her just in time to see her eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned forward, close to my cock, and blew her hot breath through my pants, straight onto the head of my cock. I shuddered so strongly I actually thought my legs were going to give out. I quickly straightened them, locked them into place as I wasn't sure I could hold out otherwise. Fuck, why don't I have a hall table to dump all this stuff on. She then ran her tongue up the length of my cock leaving a slight trace of saliva on my pants. The end of it sticking out away from my stomach as much as possible trying to escape the confines of its prison. She continued with her tongue by circling the the head, just barely letting me feel her touch, her breath.

My heavy breathing was going into overdrive and I know that the extra oxygen I was rapidly taking in was affecting every part of me. I was too excited. I needed to calm the fuck down.

Holy shit! Don't come in your pants, don't come in your pants.

I had to think of something else quick. Anything, anything at all apart from the hot breath and teasing touch of the tongue that was about to kill me. I didn't think my heart could keep up with rate it was going even though I was fit and healthy. My Bella was taunting my every cell to its very limits.

Hot breath.

Hot girlfriend.

Hot breath of my hot girlfriend making my cock hot.

Hot and wet.

Way to go Cullen, that's really thinking about something else.

I swear I was now gasping for air, and then Bella did something that caused me to stop breathing. I think maybe even my heart stopped too. I know my brain had. The only thing she left working in her wake was my cock.

She tilted my her head back and waited a moment until she was sure had my full attention. She made sure I was watching her every move. She looked like she was famished and this was just the appetizer before she devoured me whole for the main course. For dessert... I had no idea.

Leaning forward again, keeping her eyes fixed on mine until she was just a few inches away, Bella zoned in on her intended target. But again I couldn't guess what she was going to do. Anything was possible and I was okay with anything and everything possible that she wanted to do. I was hers. Willingly. Gladly. Devotedly. Absolutely.

Teeth grazed across the head of my cock just firmly enough for me to feel before she cupped it in her between her teeth. Her mouth was so heavenly. I had no fear from Bella's teeth at all. I knew she wouldn't hurt me no matter how dominating she was being. Yes, it was the first time she had behaved so forward, so empowered, and I was loving that she felt so safe and confident in being with me that she felt she could do this.

The teasing, the titillation was beyond anything Bella had ever done before. Any visual of Bella was enough to have me rock hard and ready for her, let alone her being on her knees before me ready to ravish every inch of my cock. She hadn't got my scrub pants off yet and I was ready to come in them like a teenage boy watching a Baywatch marathon.

This visual of Bella had me totally fixated on her mouth. The images that sprang to my mind of her first attempting a blowjob on me were only making me want her more. I loved her then and appreciated her for wanting to try to give me pleasure in this ecstasy inducing manner, and though at the time I never thought I could love her more, my love and desire for Bella did increase everyday. So this... this right now was euphoric.

Please, get my cock out. Please, I'll do anything, anything at all. Just wrap your lips around it and suck me until every last drop of my being is pulled out of me. If only I could actually voice this to her. I loved Esme's breakfasts but fuck was I cursing them at the moment.

When Bella snapped her teeth at me then snatched the longest part of the tie to my scrub pants with them, I almost choked on the cursed breakfast still trapped partially in my mouth. Languorously she moved her head back with a slight tilt to look back up to me. Teeth firmly clasping the tie which was the key to my release. I was desperate. My cock was desperate. I needed it out of my scrub pants. Out in the open where it would be one step closer to being in a hot, warm paradise. At this point I didn't care which one of her heavenly places she was offering as long as she took me to her promised land of orgasm.

With a last sharp tug, the bow my pants tie were in came undone, and she eagerly hooked her fingers in the waist band of my boxer-briefs pulling them down with my scrub pants. My cock sprang forward almost smacking her in the face. Fuck, I almost cock-slapped her in the face.

She giggled at my cocks zealous fight to get out of it confines. "Is someone a little eager? Does my Edward's cock need something?" Her eyes were focused on my face. Eyes sparkled with desire, but there was still a look of wickedness in them. She was debating whether to tease me some-more. I was sure of it. I gave her a look of pleading, no, begging would more accurate. Bribery wouldn't have been out of the question if I could actually voice it. She had me that wound up.

Bella took mercy on me and glided her hands from my ankles up over the back of my calf's. My muscles were taught from the strain of having them locked in place, barely holding me up. She seemed to enjoy the texture of my hairs, and ran her fingers up and down them with a feather touch so they almost tickled as they moved.

My legs trembled when she lightly trailed her nails at the back of my knees. She touched me, turned me on in places I had no idea I would even find arousing. I'd probably get turned-on if Bella kissed my elbow. She had that effect on me; I had no control over it. I loved it. She was it.

Bella kept her hands spread out around the back of my legs when she continued on up until she came to the beginnings of my buttocks. I could feel her caressing the crease that formed there from my straightened legs and forward thrust pelvis.

She watched me carefully for my reaction.

Back and forth, back and forth she moved her fingers. Each time inching further in-between my thighs.




I could feel her breath hitting my cock even though she wasn't anywhere near close enough to touch me with her mouth. Probably wasn't risking getting cock-slapped. My cock seemed to have a will of it's own. Bella had control of it and it stood to attention waiting for her command.

A muffled groan of pleasure was making it's presence known in my throat as Bella's fingers teased their way along the skin to my balls. I wanted to thrust my cock in her mouth, but I fought the urge in case she left me blue-balling. I'm sure they would never recover if I didn't get some relief soon.

I was struggling with everything I was trying to hold as well as the raging hard-on that needed immediate attention. It needed action. The want had turned into a need.

Her watching me watching her... so close to taking my cock in her mouth. Lips are licked by both of us in anticipation. Both of our mouths dry from breathing heavily. I swallowed hard. At this rate it wouldn't be long before Bella's mouth was wet and salty with the hot spurts of my orgasm.

My eyes were hooded with just the thought of it. I fought against the natural urge to close them; I didn't want to miss a second of anything to do with Bella, most of all this.



Almost there... and she inches lower at the last moment and sucks on one of my balls. Runs her tongue around it and moves to the other with a slurp and a "mmm".

I shuddered, I groaned, I throbbed.

A hand caressing the throb, holding the twitch in place. Her tongue moving up the length of my cock when another movement catch my eye; Bella's hand moving down between her legs. Then, along with her moan that she gave as her lips wrapped around my cock, I heard her... heard the wetness of her.

Wanted her. Needed her. Loved her. Always.

Vibrations and beeping bring me back to the present. A present where I don't want to be; a hospital bathroom cubicle where I'm standing with my cock in my hand having been jerking for all it's worth. I'd much rather be back in my memory of Bella. The timing of my pager going off is more than irritating after the day I've had even though this is almost the last place I want to doing this. Anywhere near the cock-destroying, whore-mouth is the last place. But I know my pager would only be called if there's an admittance into the ER of a pregnant woman.

The door to bathroom suddenly squeaks as it opens and I almost squeak along with the door at the shock of getting caught with my cock in my hand. I twist my body to glance at the lock again to check it. It's locked. I can't be seen and I haven't been caught... really.

Thankfully the shock and embarrassment of almost getting caught is enough to will my cock down from its intended release to fit snugly back in my boxer-briefs. Okay, my balls were killing me from not getting to the big finale twice in under a hour but the thought of the fist time is enough to get rid of the last of my semi. After fastening the ties of my scrub pants into a double knot – no fucking whore is getting in there again – I fold the paper towels as small and discrete package as possible and use them to touch the handle to flush. I hope that it isn't anyone I work with outside this cubicle. I really can't deal with anyone right now. I just want to dispose of these fucking paper towels, scrub my hands and get the fuck out of this bathroom and get to the ER.

I try to appear confident as I make my way out of the cubicle towards the sinks. Thankfully a trash can is near them, and I dump those paper towels quick fast and start working on scrubbing my hands. I glance at the mirror to check if the guy at the urinals is looking at me. He doesn't even lift his head; he's too busy trying to take a leak. It's not happening by the way he's muttering to himself. The doctor side of me wants to say something, offer some advice, but I had an emergency to get to and I wasted too much time already.

I check my pager whilst heading to the elevators – it is the ER. The lift doors shut just before I get there and so I make a mad dash down the stairs. There's no point in phoning to see what the emergency is, I'm only called for specific things; I deal with pregnant women that have been brought in an emergency where there's possible danger to the mother and baby. It's part of the research I've been doing, but also to gain as much experience as possible. All this is done around the needs of the labour and delivery unit of course.

At the bottom of the stairs I take a deep breath to put myself into doctor mode. Moving through the double doors, I take in what's going on around me. I realise I don't normally do this; I would just get stuck in. I felt strange. I haven't felt this way in along time. I shake it off putting it down to being tired and the shock and stress I've been in the last few hours. I zone back in, make my way closer to get to work and actually help instead of standing there like lame assed dick. I need to asses the situation, work logically. I hear my father, the Chief, giving commands. He sounds different. Calm, but not his usual calm. There are so many people around the bed I can't see anything. People are shouting stats, the machines are beeping. I still haven't moved any closer what the fuck is wrong with me.

My father glances up at me. "Edward! What are you doing here?"

This confuses me. "I was paged for the emergency of course." I still haven't moved. He wouldn't usually call me 'Edward' at work either.

"But, I told them to cancel it," my father said. He looks stressed, panicked even. Definitely not normal. Then, panic washed over me. Shit! It must be someone we know. Fuck, it must be family. My mother, my brother, my sister...

"D-D-D-Dad what's going on?", I stammer.

He stares at me. I can see the internal debate going on inside his head. I go to move forward as the panic now starts to hit me full force, but he darts to me whilst shaking his head telling me no. Before I know it, I've been spun around and pushed away from... whoever it is that they're working on. My father carries on giving commands to the other doctors and nurses as he pushes me forward. Fuck we need to get back there to save them. Save...

"Dad... is it Mom? Emmett? Alice?" My voice rises with each name.

I glance to my right as I'm moved with a thousand thoughts spinning in my head. I notice the next bed with a sheet covering the person. The sheet doesn't quite cover the shoulder properly & my eyes instantly zone in on the badge that's sticking out on the sleeve. Shit! It's a police badge.


No. Fuck no, not Emmett.

My father tries to move me further from beds. I know people are probably looking at us, making a scene but right I couldn't give a fuck what people think. This is my family. They come first.

I shrug my father off to get closer to the body. I need to know, but at the same time I don't want to know. If it's my brother, I... I don't know what I'll do.

I notice the boots. Police issue boots.

Emmett has feet like a sasquatch; those feet do not belong to Emmett, they're too small.

It's not Emmett.

It's fucking not Emmett.

I feel relief but guilty for it too. I let out a shaky breath that I've been holding for who knows how long and put my hand on my fathers shoulder to steady myself. He still looks pained and worried, and I double check my judgement of the boots. Definitely not Emmett.

That's when I look closer at the badge on the shoulder. It's not a Seattle badge it's a Forks police badge. Fuck.

Please be Mike, please be Mike. Not Charlie, not Charlie!

I edge towards the bed knowing the implications of the next few seconds. It wasn't that I wanted Mike dead but I didn't want it to be Charlie; I didn't want Bella to go through that pain. I never wanted her to suffer no matter what happened between us. Mike was prick that did what he could to piss me off when in Forks. He'd always wanted Bella, and couldn't believe she wasn't with him. I'm sure he only worked his way into the job of deputy to be closer to Bella through Charlie.


An arm around my shoulders pulls me away from the only thing I can look at; the moustache of Charlie Swan. There was no mistaking that moustache no matter how bloodied and battered he was.

My eyes move down his body surveying the damage even though it's mostly covered by the sheet. There's a big lump sticking up in the middle of the sheet and I shakily lift the sheet to see the damage. There's a sawn off tree branch going right through his torso. I drop the sheet back onto him and step back out the end of the bed near the curtain. I've dealt with so many emergencies that I couldn't recount half of them, but when it's someone close to you it's always different. Not in a good way. This was the first time I'd had someone this close to me be involved in something like this. I wasn't even here to help save him.

Bella... she's going to be devastated.

I realise then that my father's talking to me.

"Edward, please leave now. It's the best thing for all. I don't want you to deal with this. Don't worry, I'll sort it out. There's no serious damage done as far as we can tell, so just go get some sleep and I'll let you know how things are tomorrow morning–"

"What do you mean 'there's no serious damage done'? He's dead! Charlie's dead. You can't get more serious damage done than that,"

My father's face was stunned to say the least. Did he not know it was Charlie? Did he not know he was dead? He looked over my shoulder to the other person being worked on, and then back to me. He took a deep breath obviously to calm himself.

Turning to see what he was looking at, emergency room staff working diligently on the patient, clothes that had been cut away from the patient and bagged, dumped to the side. That's when I noticed. All in the matter of a second or two I took all this in around me and realised. The sleeve hanging out of the bag is emerald green and has a hole near the cuff. A hole where it was worn and someone would put their thumb through it. I knew that sleeve. It was mine. I'd worn it. I shared it. I'd eventually gave it. Gave it with love because it was her favourite and she felt comfort from it.

I moved passed my father to confirm what I didn't want to believe. Long dark hair, bloodied and matted with bits of pine, twigs and leaves. An oxygen mask covering the face, but there was no mistake. Wires and tubes here and there, and... there, right there was the reason I was paged.

"Edward, it's Bella. She's pregnant."

"No shit, dad."

A/N: Okay, a lot going on in this first chapter – yes, I threw you straight into the thick of it.

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