Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight. This belongs to me.

A/N: Yes, I know. I've lost my mind. My plate is full... OVERFLOWING, actually... but it's those damn voices... they just wouldn't shut up. And trying to ignore them wasn't working. And I wasn't getting anything else done... so, I set them free. This is me doing just that.

Now... this is AH, and OOC, as per my usual. And it's an established story, something that has been in my head longer than anything else. That being said, the nature of the story won't change. It will be what it has always been for me. There will be angst. And other things. I'm not going to say more than that.

And don't let this chapter fool you... it's citrus, but I promise there's meaning behind it. If you're looking for smut, you'll find it here, but there IS a plot. And it's a deep one.

So, without further ado...


Chapter One: Double Play


"Welcome home, Mr. Cullen. I've been waiting for you."

Fuck, I love my wife.

Bella sits in my favorite leather chair, her long, bare legs crossed and flung over one arm, a baseball sitting like a prize atop the real one that lies beneath the lucky stitched leather.

She wears one of my Mariner's caps, turned adorably to the side, and her luscious chocolate waves cascade down from beneath it, framing her pert, round, welcoming breasts.

Welcome home, indeed.

I trail my fingertips from her ankles, just above her only other accessory - the white suede Louboutin peep-toes she wears - up her slender legs, and grip her behind the knees, opening her before me and revealing my MVP prize, the baseball rolling off of her and the chair and to the floor.

I stifle her giggle, slipping my tongue between her parted lips. Her mouth gives me a welcome of its own, and the lustful moan that travels from hers into mine makes my already-hard cock throb painfully in response.

I know my wife loves me, know it in my bones, and her desire for me has never wavered since our wedding night, when she surrendered herself to me - or anyone - for the first time...

But I also know what led to this particular generous welcome. "Sixth inning grand slam?" I tease, knowing full well it wasn't.

"Well, that was rather amazing," she murmurs against my mouth between playful nips, "and I may very well have done a highly appreciative cheer for it... "

I laugh as she sucks my bottom lip seductively before she bites it less than gently, her legs tensing in my hands.

"But not what made you... " I loosen my grip around her knees and move my hands up her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the chair, before grazing a finger over the baby soft, bare flesh between them. "... wet?"

She sucks in a breath and tugs at my hair in answer. I reach up with my left hand and pull my cap from her head and toss it on the couch, my right still on her, where she's been waiting for it.

"Tell me," I order softly, as she pools under my teasing touch.

"The... eighth... inning... " Her breathless words brush across my lips one at a time as she squirms against my fingers. "... double... play."

It's what I knew, and what I wanted to hear her say. My wife's appreciation of the finer points of my game never fail to amaze me, and it's one of the first things that drew me to her... her appreciation... her enthusiasm... led me to pick her beautiful face out of the crowd of fans in the stands...

That, and when she nearly fell out of them trying to catch a foul ball - which she did catch - while wearing my jersey, that I couldn't help but notice as she dangled precariously upside down, her only worry not dropping the ball.

Her only worry now, as she devours my mouth with hers, is that I show my own appreciation for her. And I would never deny her. Could never...

I pull my mouth from hers, only to move it quickly down her body, tasting every perfect inch of her, as I drop to my knees before what I really want.

I need to taste her, the sweetness of her appreciation in its raw, delicious state.

I look up at her as she softly clears her throat, and what I see is an invitation. For me. Her. She's for me. She's mine.

A devilish smile spreads across her face as she licks her lips and wiggles before me. Silently teasing me... You know you want it...

Yes I do, and so do you...

I give her a defenseless grin and rub my nose down the inside of her thigh, inhaling the scent of her as I make my way to my prize. I can't help the moan that escapes me as my tongue gets its first taste of her.

"I love you," she whispers, her hands again in my hair.

"I love you," I whisper back, my lips uttering the words against her dripping flesh.

She whimpers from the sensation and whispers again, breathlessly, "I missed you."

My mouth answers her, I missed you, too... but without words this time, too hungry for her to share with them. She cries out and her grip on my hair tightens as she pulls me closer, urging me to show her just how much.

And show her I do. My lips treasure her with loving kisses... my tongue tastes every delectable nook of her... my hands cradle her... lift her closer because it's not enough... she's never close enough.

I will never get enough of this woman that gives herself to me. Of this... her...

Bella's taste is like heaven to me, and she knows this... that I would gladly spend my lifetime worshiping her perfection with my mouth...

And she loves it... never denies me... but I know that this, for her in this moment, is like the sixth inning grand slam. She'll yell and cheer, and praise my feat, but inside...

She longs for more. Something different. She aches for the double play...

She aches...

Pleads... "Edward... "

So I try to control the greed that threatens to overtake me, my mouth taking just a bit more... taking her just a bit farther, before I move it back to hers. She welcomes it hungrily, grateful for my generosity, and the generosity she knows I'll show her now.

She wraps herself around me and I lift her from the chair. My cock aches unbearably as she writhes against me, sucking gently on my covered-with-her tongue, as I try to make it up the stairs with her in my arms.

I make it only to the second landing of the long, winding staircase before she cries out "Here!" and grabs the banister, halting my ascent.

Did I say I love my wife? Fuck...

She gives me a delicious grin as my eyes bore into hers, both of us knowing that I won't tell her no... but I glance down anyway, assessing the risk... there is a risk.

But I still can't tell her no.

I take a deep breath, and reach down with one hand to free myself from my pants, while she places a series of kisses and gentle bites along my jaw, her legs wrapped tightly around me, her heart beating in anticipation.

Mine beats just as hard. "This is dangerous, you know... " I say as my pants and boxers fall to my ankles.

"I trust you," she whispers against my neck. "Always. You're strong... and you'd never, ever let me fall."

"Never," I breathe, holding her tight against me with one arm, and gripping the banister with my other hand, the absolution of her words coursing through me.

Braced, I step hurriedly out of my shoes and kick free of my clothes, desperate to prove their truth. Prove how worthy I am of them. How worthy I am of her.

"Now!" she demands impatiently, as soon as my arm is back around her, but she doesn't wait for me. She grips my shoulders roughly and positions herself to take what she wants, and does... slamming down on me, needily burying my cock deep inside of her.

My god, this woman...

She throws her head back, digging her nails into my shoulders, biting her lip as she does.

"Hold on tight, baby. Don't let go." My words are an order, but come out like a plea as she falls back, pulling me with her until her ass rests on the smooth wood.

"Fuck me, Edward. Please... " she begs, grinding her sweet pussy desperately against me, burying me even deeper inside of her.

The feel of her tight and wet around me, mixed with the deep pleading look in her eyes, makes me forget my fear and everything else but what she wants. Keeping my left arm around her, I grip her hip firmly with my right hand as I pull back and thrust into her.

"Yes!" she cries out, her legs tightening like a vice around me, her heels digging into my back.

I move slowly in and out of her, her safety returning to the forefront of my mind again, but it's not what she wants.

"Harder, Edward," she pleads, her hands falling to my ass.

"Bella... "


She teeters, trying to find the leverage she needs to force my thrust, and I slam her against me in panic.

The "Oh, fuck!" that fills the air tells me that the only way I can keep her safe is to take full control, giving her what she wants so she doesn't try to take it.

She trusts me. It's implicit. Absolute. And she needs...

My once-innocent bride, who never questioned or denied me anything I asked of her in our bed, has blossomed into a vibrant, insatiable creature that makes my every dream come true every day of our lives.

Because she trusted me.

She let me show her. Let me teach her. What she could feel. What she could make me feel.

She was eager to learn. Eager to please. Eager to feel. Eager to need. And trusting through every moment of all of it.

Every mind-blowing moment...

I let it settle over me... her trust... her need...

I let it fill me...

As I fill her. Again and again. Grip her hard while I pound into her, because it's what she wants. This time.

Not the gentle man that made love to her slowly before I left her two days ago, wishing I could stay in her arms, stay buried inside of her, never leave her, never be away from her for a single second...

The man who did leave her. Had to. The man who she sometimes has to let go of... let leave her...

The man who she watches from miles away... through a screen, like the rest of the world... because I'm living my dream... the one that isn't her.

Except it is. She dreams it with me. For me. She supports me. She lets me leave. She waits. She knows I'll come back. Always. To her. My life.

My beautiful, perfect wife... my biggest fan. In life. And on the many fields I leave her to live my dream on. The dream that sometimes brings her to where we are now.

An impossible catch, but not impossible for me.

A throw, faster and more precise than a human should be capable of, yet I am.

And it makes her toes curl. Makes her bite her lip. Makes her ache. For me.

And she waits... for me to come home and fill her need. Fill her...

Fuck her.



Pound into her until she screams.

Like I do now. Fuck her. My beautiful wife. Mercilessly. Not gently.

It's what she wants. What she loves.

My legs. She loves their power. Their strength. Their endurance.

My hands. She loves them. Trusts them. To hold her. Protect her. Make her feel...

Make her scream as I dig them into her flesh as my cock slams into her harder and deeper with every powerful thrust.



Inside of her.

My cock.

My love.

Her trust.

That makes her let go, like I knew she would... when she came undone. Because her trust is absolute. Even teetering precariously - foolishly - on this rail of wood high in the air... she trusts me. To give her everything she needs, and not let her fall as she lets herself take it.

Lets go. Her hands, her cries of pleasure, my name...

Her. She gives herself to me. Her whole self.

Her liquid self. Pulls me deeper with every sweet drop.

And still trusts as I explode into her with my own, my legs shaking but my hands unyielding on her. Because she let go...

But I never will.


I'll never let go of this woman that loves me so much. Trusts me so much...

That laughs as I pull her from her dangerous perch and on top of me as we fall to the floor.

I don't have any legs left. After the game... after her...

My beautiful wife that cups my face in her delicate hands and kisses me sweetly. The tiger turned back into a kitten...

"Welcome home, Mr. Cullen. That was a hell of a game."


I'll say...

But enough from me, what do you think? Click that little button down there and tell me. If you want.