Happy Birthday, dearest BellaFlan! I tried to write a little something for you that will hopefully make you smile. I even made it a little dirtier than usual just for you! Have a fabulous day.
BeauteousCake
“I’ve fucking had it up to here.”
Carlisle hated swearing, but his patience had worn thin. Between the standoff with Esme about the new curtains for the dining room and the herd of deer in the garage, the weekend had not been going so swell. But this was far too much.
“I mean, really? You have your own cottage now to do this sort of thing in.”
A crease between his brows suddenly divided his perpetually smooth forehead as he surveyed the footprints on the ceiling, his eyes travelling downward to a coffee table that appeared to have been halved and splintered by the force of two large boulders falling onto it. His eldest progeny shuffled his feet, holding a thoroughly ruined satin cushion over his manly bits. Edward’s wife was nowhere to be seen.
“She went upstairs to put some clothes on,” Edward muttered sheepishly, reading Carlisle’s thoughts. They both glanced at a shredded blouse draped haphazardly over the couch. Carlisle glanced up at the ceiling again, and coughed.
“That is the part I understand the least,” he said, pointing a finger in the upward direction.
“Bella liked the idea of gravity sex.”
“I see.” Carlisle was still fuming, but his curiosity got the better of him. An uncomfortable pause, and then-
“How was…”
“Amazing,” Edward deadpanned.
Carlisle took note for posterity. It would be difficult to get Esme that geared up to potentially ruin furniture, but it could be worth it. The doctor was aware that his son was grinning at him. Carlisle glared as his thoughts turned uncharacteristically vicious, Edward’s face fell (along with the cushion), and the eldest Cullen child sprinted out the back door. Carlisle was finally alone, and looked around the living room once more.
How the hell was he going to fix this before Esme got home?
“Shit and fuck and stuff,” he said to himself, as he went to work.
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