Twilight Fic: In a Bind (Emmett/Rosalie)
You probably wouldn’t think it, but there are drawbacks to being pretty much the strongest fuckin’ thing coming and going. Yeah, the downsides are few and far between, sure. But that just means that when it does sucks, it really sucks.
‘Course, you won’t catch me bitchin’ about it to anyone. At least not on purpose-Edward. And you won’t catch me moping, on purpose-Jasper. I don’t see the point in dwelling on what you can’t change. Live in the moment; that’s my motto. ‘Living’ being relative.
It’s just that (and I don’t want you to think I’m being a pussy here), it’s just that there are some situations-special situations-when it would be helpful if I wasn’t quite so strong.
Like, say, you’re bound for eternity to the most incredible, sexy, smokin’ babe. And say you and she have an aggressively awesome sex life that could be blamed for a few minor earthquakes and the deforestation of a mountainside. And there isn’t a trick she won’t try with you just once and then a million times again after that. So basically, you’re the luckiest bastard this side of the sun.
I know, I know. What right do I have to complain? But then, the other night I was hunting and I probably drifted a little too close to Edward and Bella’s cabin. (So sue me, I was curious to see the monk in action.) And damn if I didn’t see a sight that depressed the shit outta me.
Edward-my emo brother-was hog-tied by mangled chains wrapped so tight he couldn’t so much as wiggle, and Bella was riding him like she was breaking a bull. It was fucking fascinating. And then it hit me: Bella’s newborn strength was the only thing that could have woven those chains tight enough to hold Edward. And now that friggin’ life-long prude was getting the hot end of the submissive stick from his wicked dom wife and...damn it!
So you see my problem. There’s nothing that can really hold me. I always end up having to pretend I’m not going anywhere, and then I finally just say “fuck it” and break outta whatever bind Rose has me in, grab her and turn the tables. Which has its own charm, I can’t deny. But still, a guy can dream, can’t he? A guy can...suggest...can’t he?
Or maybe that’s not such a good idea. Because I think just made a mistake...I think.
I’m not too sure because she’s giving me that glare that could cut glass. And yeah, it was probably stupid to even put it out there, even if it was just a joke...sorta. And yeah, I probably should be bracing myself for her evil left cross or a stiletto to the balls. But even as my smirk is fading, I’m picking up on a few cues that tell me I might get out of this one with all parts in tact.
Edward may read minds, Jasper may read emotions, but I’ve got skills, too. I read bodies. On a practical level, attackers’ bodies. More enjoyably, female bodies. More to the point and in this particular moment, my wife’s body. And right now, she’s turned the fuck on.
My shit-eatin’-grin firmly back in place, I waggle my eyebrows at her, waiting.
She finally purses her lips, trails her eyes over my body with some lingering glances at her favorite stops along the way, and snaps, “Fine. I’ll ask Bella,” before exaggeratedly stomping off.
And because no one’s around, I do a little dance in the kitchen because tonight will definitely not suck.