Summary: Edward's afraid to reveal his love of lingerie to his new boyfriend, but he's forced to confront the truth when Carlisle finds his panty drawer. Will Carlisle be into it or will he GTFO?

Warning: This is SLASH. If you are offended by hot gay sex or boys in pink panties, please stop reading. :)

Disclaimer: This has nothing to do with Twilight. Seriously, people, come on.

This is for emilyg80 and luvrofink, fabulous authors and dear friends, who independently asked for Edward in women's lingerie within days of each other. Ask and ye shall receive. Thanks to SuperKannen for editing!

"It's late," Carlisle says, stroking my back as I lie against his chest. "I should probably go." He's right, it is late, but I don't want him to go. He's so warm and comfortable, strong and manly beneath me. I don't move.

"Or you could not go," I suggest, trying to keep my tone light. I trace a figure eight on his bicep, his skin cool and taut.

"But if I don't go, then I'd be... staying the night," he says teasingly, whispering the words like a dirty little secret. We've been seeing each other casually for weeks now, keeping things light-no big commitments, no sleepovers, just some nice dinners and hot sex. Things are progressing, though, and I kind of want to see what it's like to fall asleep with him. Wake up with him. Be myself with him.

"I think I'd like that," I mumble, burying my face in his chest. The coarse, golden hair tickles my cheek while his chest vibrates from the sound of his laughter.

"Me too," he says. I lift my head up to look at him, and he's smiling that serene, knowing smile that I first found so attractive. He's a friend of a friend, someone I've always been aware of but never really spent any time with. I didn't really notice him until Emily's birthday party last month... and I guess he noticed me then, too. We've been seeing each other more and more ever since.

"It's gonna get cold, though," he says. "Can I borrow something to sleep in?"

"Sure," I tell him, hopping out of bed. I definitely don't want him going through my drawers. Not yet, not at this stage of the relationship. I have some things in my dresser that some gay men find odd, some find repulsive, and only a handful (of the guys I've dated, at least) find sexy. I open the third drawer from the top and pull out a t-shirt and some flannel pants, tossing them in his direction. "This should fit you. I'll be right back."

I slip into the bathroom to clean up a little and pee-I can hear Carlisle moving around and getting dressed. I'm a little sore, but it's not bad. It's more of that delicious kind of sore that reminds you of all the fun you've been having.

"E? This t-shirt is a little tight. I'm just gonna grab-" he says, and I wince at the sound of a drawer sliding open. Please be the pajama drawer, I pray. Please, don't let him be in my panty drawer.

I hear the drawer close. His throat clear. Another drawer opens. "Another t-shirt?" he squeaks, finishing his question a bit too late. Fuck. Me.

He's seen. He knows. He's either going to make an excuse and leave now, or slip out in the middle of the night. Or maybe, since he seems like a really decent guy, he'll stay until morning. Kiss me on the cheek and leave after breakfast, promising to call even though we both know he won't.

"Yeah," I call, my voice wavering. I really liked him.

I wish I could just explain. That I'm not a cross-dresser, not transgender, not harboring a secret, straight relationship. I wish I could just tell him that the pretty scraps of silk and lace feel amazing against my skin, and that I like the way my legs look in a pair of stockings.

That I get a secret thrill from wearing a silky camisole under an oxford shirt.

That wearing a garter belt under my suit at a big contract negotiation makes me feel even more powerful and confident.

But it's so awkward, and he won't understand, and I'll be too embarrassed.

I take extra time brushing my teeth and washing my face, hoping maybe he'll fall asleep before I go back to bed.

Eventually I'm out of things to do in the bathroom though, and I tiptoe back into the bedroom. He's not sleeping, he's leaning back against my pillows and smiling shyly at me. He holds his arms open for me, and his smile... it just gets bigger and brighter. Like it always does.

Overwhelmed with the thought that he still wants me, I hurry back to bed and crawl in next to him. He wraps me up in a tight hug, kissing me just under my ear and pulling the covers over both of us.

I start to think that maybe he didn't see. Maybe he opened a different wrong drawer, and was surprised at all of my ratty University of Chicago sweatshirts or something.

"Edward?" he asks, slipping one hand under my t-shirt. He grips my side tightly, his thumb stroking me just at the spot where the bottom edge of my red lace corset would lie.

"Hmm?" I ask, humming into his shoulder.

"What's with all the lingerie?" he asks.

My heart drops. My mind is going a million miles a minute, trying to come up with excuses. Trying to anticipate what he's thinking and how he'll respond to what I'm thinking.

"Breathe, Edward," he says, chuckling. And suddenly it's that easy. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, shuddering against him as he holds me tighter.

"Does it freak you out?" I ask.

"Should it?" he replies. "Tell me about it," he pleads, squeezing my shoulders. I take another deep breath, weighing my options. I could lie, or pretend it's not important. I'm a lawyer-a fucking fantastic lawyer-and I can get out of this if I want to.

But wasn't I just thinking about how much I want Carlisle to really know me?

And if I put off telling him about my kinkier side, it could just lead to drama down the road.

Or maybe if I tell him now, and he's okay with it, I won't have to worry about what happens when he finds out.

"It started out as a joke," I whisper, relaxing into his arms once I start talking. "In college, my roommate Jake had a girlfriend who would strut around in lingerie all the time. That's when I knew for sure I was gay, because she didn't do anything for me."

Carlisle laughs again but doesn't interrupt.

"One day we were drunk, me and Jake and a couple of guys from the baseball team. I went to the bathroom and all of Bella's silky lingerie was draped over the shower curtain rod. I just thought it would be funny, for some reason, so I put on a pair of panties and a bra over my clothes. I walked through the apartment like that and everyone laughed-Jake wasn't really pissed or anything but he said just to keep the ones I'd worn. He said he could never look at Bella in them the same way again."

Carlisle's still holding me, still stroking that little bit of skin under the hem of my t-shirt.

"I threw them on the floor and tried to forget about them, you know? Except... I was kind of curious about what it would feel like to really wear them. Un-under my clothes," I admit, my breath hitching a little. "Then, um, a few days later, I was out of clean underwear to wear to class... I didn't want to go commando because it was really fucking cold that day. So I put on Bella's panties."

I pause, waiting for Carlisle to interject or to tease. He doesn't say anything, just presses his lips to my cheek.

"I guess it started there... and soon I was wearing them pretty often, under my regular clothes. I bought some more... like ordered them online. And I branched out to, um, other types of fabrics and um, pieces. It's just something I've always enjoyed," I admit, turning my head to look up into his eyes. I'm expecting judgement, or at the worst, repulsion. But he just cocks his head at me and calmly asks me questions.

"So do you dress in drag?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

"No!" I reply, a little too emphatically. "I mean, it's fine for some people, but I don't want to look like a woman. I just like... I guess I like that it's a secret. And I like the way it feels."

"The way what feels?" he asks, his tone questioning but not skeptical.

"Silk. Lace. Satin. All of it," I admit.

"And you wear it under your clothes?"

"Sometimes. Not every day. Not to play soccer in the park with the guys, and not on dates or anything. Just sometimes when I'm alone running errands... or underneath a suit at work," I tell him. I can feel my ears turning red as I flush with embarrassment, revealing a secret I've only ever told a few people in my life. "So does it?" I ask again.

"Does it what?" he says, confused.

"Freak you out," I reply. My body is tense, waiting for his reaction.

"I'm a little... surprised," he says, choosing his words carefully. "But no, Edward, I'm not freaked out. It'll take more than a panty drawer to send me running for the hills."

"Promise?" I whisper, dropping kisses over his chest. He stills my movement by cupping my face in his hands and pulling it up to his.

"Promise," he answers, kissing me sweetly.

Two days later, he's back at my place again. We're snuggled up on the couch, watching a stupid, mindless action movie. Well, Carlisle is watching the movie. I'm busy squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck, and otherwise trying to distract him.

"Edward," he finally says, "I'm starting to think you're not enjoying The Fast and the Furious."

"I wouldn't mind if you fucked me fast and furious," I tell him, dragging my lips up over his throat. I end at his chin, peppering it with kisses while he tries to capture my lips with his.

"Damn," he whispers, wrapping an arm around my waist. He urges me up onto his lap, and I straddle him quickly. I give in and let him kiss me, opening my mouth to his. I love that Carlisle likes to kiss. He really, really likes to kiss-to make out, even. He gets me so revved up before he even thinks of taking off a stitch of clothing.

Tonight, though, his hands go straight for my belt buckle. He loosens my belt and unbuttons my pants quickly before sliding a hand under my waistband. He plays with the waistband of my boxer briefs for a minute before pulling away, leaning back a little and looking into my eyes.

"No panties?" he asks, snapping the waistband against my skin.

"Not today," I answer, dropping my head to his shoulder. We haven't re-visited the topic of my panty drawer since the night Carlisle discovered it.

"Hmmm," he says, pulling me closer. He kisses my neck, lightly sucking just above my pulse point. "That's a shame."

I drop down a little, letting my thighs rest against his, and feel his cock straining against mine.

"Is that..." I ask, pushing my embarrassment aside, "something you would want to see?"

He rests a hand on my lower back, pulling me closer.

"It's all I can fucking think about," he whispers, sliding his hand lower to grope my ass through my wool trousers. "Would you do that for me? Let me see this hot ass in your favorite pair of panties?"

My heart is pounding with excitement and a little bit of fear. Wearing lingerie on my own or under an Armani suit makes me feel... powerful. Wearing it in front of another man? Letting him in on my most closely guarded secret? That makes me feel vulnerable and more than a little fucking scared.

Carlisle picks up on my hesitation and rubs my back slowly, talking to me while he presses wet kisses to the side of my neck. "Not tonight," he whispers. "Maybe sometime, though? I want to see you, Edward."

"Sometime," I promise, tilting my head to the side to improve his access to my neck.

"For now I'll settle on getting you out of these," he says, smiling against my neck while he snaps the waistband of my underwear again. I yelp at the sting and hop off of his lap, laughing while I pull him into my bedroom.

I surprise him a week later.

We're at his place, cooking dinner, and I have a pair of purple satin boyshorts on under my jeans. They're a deep indigo, with black lace trim, and one of my very favorite pairs.

I make it a point to bend at the waist, hoping to flash him a little while I dig through his pots and pans.

He doesn't say anything, but he notices. I can tell as soon as I straighten up and turn around to offer him the skillet he asked for.

I can tell by the lust in his eyes, the way his jaw has dropped a little... and by the bulge growing in his pants. He doesn't say anything, but he does pick up the food he'd just taken out of the refrigerator. He puts it back. He turns off the oven and the burners on his stove.

"Dinner will have to wait," he says, his voice low and breathy with excitement. I can't suppress the shiver that runs down my spine when I see the lust in his eyes. I was planning to tease him all evening, just give him a little glimpse of what I had under my clothes and hope he would be into it.

He's definitely into it.

He launches himself at me, kissing me fiercely, and drags me up the stairs to his bedroom. I claw at the buttons of his shirt, tugging at them ineffectively until he just pulls it up over his head. We leave a trail of clothes behind, up his stairs and down the hallway to his bedroom.

We strip each other down until the only things left to remove are my jeans and my panties.

In the middle of his bedroom floor, Carlisle drops to his knees, naked, and unbuttons my jeans. He tugs them down over my hips, kissing down the tops of my thighs and over my knees as my legs are revealed. He taps my calves, urging me to lift each leg in turn so he can push the fabric away and leave me standing, hard and nearly naked, in just my panties.

I feel a little nervous, despite his enthusiasm. I have to fight the urge to cover myself. But Carlisle looks up at me from his place on the floor, meets my eyes for a solid minute, and smiles at me.

"You like the way this feels?" he finally says, smoothing his hand over the back of my panties. I'm so fucking turned on by the slip of silk against my skin that I can't think, let alone talk. Some kind of affirmative sound comes out, though, because Carlisle keeps moving his hands. Over my ass cheeks, my hips, just barely brushing the front of the garment, distended by my growing erection.

"I didn't know if I'd like it," he says, pulling up the lace at my hip to drop a kiss underneath the silk. "I mean, I knew I didn't have a problem with it, but I didn't know if I'd like it. Seeing this, though? You just look... perfect. So, so sexy," he murmurs, kissing my cock through the strained fabric.

I'm whimpering, shaking, not sure if I can even hold myself up because I'm so fucking aroused. In the past I've been so cautious about what I reveal to my lovers, how I present myself, and I've always felt like I was shielding a part of who I am from the people that were closest to me. Standing in front of Carlisle though, I feel... stripped down. Bare. All because of a piece of fabric, and the trust I feel for the man at my feet.

He hooks a finger into the waistband at the front and drags the silk down over my cock. This is one of my favorite things to do when I'm alone-slide them down slowly, relishing the texture of the silk and the rougher lace of the trim sliding against my skin. Instead of pulling them down all the way, he tucks my panties under my balls, freeing them and my cock for his attention.

It's the best blowjob I've ever had. Carlisle is talented-I knew that already from the times we've been together before-but he's creative too. He cups my balls through the silk while he's trailing kisses down my shaft. His warm, hot mouth covers my head, sucking it in slowly so he can swirl his tongue all around it. With every movement, every push and pull of his mouth, he manipulates the fabric still wrapped around my hips. Sliding his fingers over or underneath, tugging at the lace, twisting and gathering the fabric to move it over my skin in different ways.

"Oh fuck, Carlisle," I moan, cupping his neck to keep him close. "God, you're gonna make me cum so hard." My eyes are closed, my legs shaking, my stomach tightening.

He pulls off for just a second, his hand still working to pump my cock, and takes a deep breath. He says just one word, "Look."

When he drops back down to take my cock in his mouth again, I force myself to open my eyes and look down at him. At his pink lips stretched around my cock, his eyes watering with exertion as he takes me even deeper. At the deep purple fabric cover my hips, the slutty little panties that my man apparently loves. That's all it takes, it's too much for me then, and I cry out once before my cock starts to twitch in Carlisle's mouth.

As soon as he starts swallowing around me, I worry that my legs are going to give out. Carlisle wraps his arm around my thighs, holding me steady as he licks and sucks at my oversensitive cock until I'm completely spent.

"I think I'm gonna pass out," I mumble, dropping down to my knees. Carlisle isn't having it, though, and pulls me close for a kiss. His cock is so hard, pushing into my hip and begging for attention. I wrap my fingers around him, deciding to stroke him until I get my bearings and I can really suck him off or encourage him to fuck me. He's closer than I thought, though, and he's grunting and panting as soon as I flick my thumb over his head.

"Jesus, are you close?" I ask, nibbling at his ear.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, dropping his head to my shoulder.

"Do you wanna fuck me?" I offer, squeezing tighter to bring him some relief.

"Not gonna... not gonna last," he whines, thrusting into my hand.

"Let it go, then, Carlisle. Cum on me," I urge, kissing up his neck to capture his lips again. I scoot closer on my knees, angling myself so that the head of his cock brushes against the cool silk of my panties on every downstroke. It only takes a few more pumps before he's groaning, calling out my name, and spilling out over my hand and my leg.

Later, after we've both cleaned up and crawled into his bed, I feel high. It's the adrenaline rush that comes with sharing something taboo, I think. Or maybe it's just Carlisle, and the way he makes me feel. Either way, I tell him that I'm grateful, that this night was perfect.

It takes time for me to share everything with him. I have a hard time letting him watch me put lingerie on, for one thing. I don't seem to mind him seeing me wear it, and I'm definitely okay with him taking it off, but that process of choosing something to wear, of slipping it on and arranging it over my body, feels too private.

He tells me he understands, and that he'll wait. That everything I do is sexy, and he doesn't feel deprived.

I've kept to mostly panties and garters, silk stockings but nothing too crazy. I trust Carlisle, but there's still a part of me that whispers that it could become too much for him, that he could get overwhelmed.

He leaves town for a week, for a medical conference, but he calls me every night. We talk about our busy days, and he tells me what he learned at the conference... and eventually we talk about what we're wearing, and how much we miss each other, and how fucking hard we are.

"I have this fantasy, Edward," he rasps, one night while we're listening to each other moan and gasp. I'm wearing a light blue teddy, something so feminine I haven't had the courage to wear it for Carlisle yet. "Of taking you out for lunch or something in a really sexy suit, like one of your Versace ones. And to everyone else, we just look like businessmen... but I know that underneath you're wearing something frilly and lacy."

"Yeah?" I whine, pumping my cock harder. "That's so fucking hot."

"You wanna dress up for me, baby?" he asks, his voice getting lower as he gets closer. "You wanna put on something really pretty and sexy under your clothes and go out with me?"

"Yes!" I cry, wrapping the satiny fabric around my cock. I stroke harder, my free hand rolling my balls. "Gonna cum, Carlisle."

That's all it takes to convince me. That he's in it to stay, that he's as turned on by this as I am. It's something he wants too, something he fantasizes about too.

"Carlisle?" I ask later, my voice scratchy and sleepy.

"Yeah?" he says, sounding just as tired.

"When you get back, I wanna buy you lunch."

We do it a week later, on a Thursday.

He meets me downtown, between the hospital and my office, at Dean's Steakhouse. It's the kind of place where men come to have three martini lunches and pay with a corporate credit card.

Carlisle's wearing a charcoal gray suit, nothing too fancy-he doesn't give a shit about designers, he says, but he likes the way I look in my clothes. I'm wearing a black, close-cut Versace, just like he requested, with a blood red tie and matching pocket square. He was right, we blend in here just fine.

Except... if anyone were looking closely, he might see the way Carlisle rests his hand on my lower back before I slide into the booth. Or the way my foot slides over to his side under the table, my ankle locking with his.

He doesn't say anything about the fantasy. He's told me a few times that he doesn't expect me to do it, that he was just talking, but it's my fantasy now, too.

All through lunch, I catch Carlisle narrowing his eyes at my striped oxford shirt, trying to discern if there's anything beneath. He slips off his wingtip and wiggles his toes up underneath my pant leg, feeling for stockings.

When the waiter clears our dishes, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Carlisle gets distracted with his BlackBerry, and I slip out the front door of the restaurant. I dodge cars to cross the street quickly, and once I'm safely in the hotel lobby I text Carlisle the picture I took earlier along with a short message-"Westin hotel, room 435."

I take the next elevator car and imagine him opening the message, flushing red as he takes in the provocative picture I took before I put on my suit. Carlisle's probably mentally cursing out the waiter, wanting the check to be taken care of faster so he can get to me.

I open the door to the hotel room I checked into before lunch and strip off my clothes, carefully hanging up the jacket, shirt, and trousers. There's a full-length mirror on the wall, and I stop to study my reflection. The corset is a deep pink color, wrapped tightly around my torso. A few inches of skin are exposed between the bottom of the corset and the matching garter belt and panties. Black ribbons attach the garter belt to a pair of sheer, silky stockings.

My cock is hard already, threatening to escape the tiny scrap of black lace between my legs. I squeeze it and shift the fabric around, trying to stay covered... at least until Carlisle gets here. I'm ripping the comforter off the bed and tossing it to the floor when I hear the knock at the door.

I rush to open it, knowing that he's on the other side, waiting and wanting me. My heart is pounding as I slide the deadbolt and pull the door open slowly, peeking out cautiously to be sure no one else is in the hallway.

It's just Carlisle. Breathless, panting-he must've run across the street-and flustered. I pull the door open wide, lean against it, and watch as his eyes roam my figure from top to bottom.

"Hey," I tell him, suddenly self-conscious.

"Damn," he breathes, loosening the tie around his neck.

"What do you think?" I ask, stepping back, away from the hallway. He follows, closing the door behind him, and shrugs his jacket off. It falls to the floor and he abandons it there, stalking forward as I back up further into the room.

When I reach the full length mirror again, Carlisle reaches out to grab my wrist. He pulls me close, pressing his chest against my back and turning me to face the mirror. "Look at you," he says, resting his chin on my shoulder. His hands roam my sides, smoothing over the pink satin and down to the lacy garter belt.

I moan and lean back against him, watching his hands move over me. He slips his finger under the edge of the corset, moving it back and forth painfully slowly. My stomach muscles clench and tremble under his touch, and my left hand moves to wrap around my dick.

"You're so hard," he says, his eyes watching my hand in the mirror. I push back against him, grinding my ass into his own erection, and he smiles in acknowledgement before kissing my neck.

"God, I want to fuck you, just like this," he whispers, gently pushing me forward until my forehead is almost touching the glass. I brace myself with my forearms and lock eyes with him through the mirror.

"There's lube on the nightstand," I tell him. He's still kissing me tenderly, dragging his lips up the nape of my neck. "Carlisle? Hurry."

He grins, pulling at his belt as he turns away from me. I hear the shuffling of fabric of the thump of his belt and wallet hitting the floor as he takes off his pants; when he returns to me he's just wearing his button-down shirt, open in the front so I can see the well-defined muscles of his stomach and chest.

"God, I want you," I tell him, shuffling backwards so I'm at a better angle for him. He toys with the eye hook closures on my corset and my garter belt, but leaves everything on.

"You look amazing, Edward," he says, slipping his fingers underneath the satin panties covering my ass. He pulls the fabric to the side and pushes a slick finger into me. Even while his left hand prepares me for his cock, his right hand doesn't stop slipping and sliding over the satin corset. He slips his fingers underneath the empty cups and pinches my nipples, earning a loud whimper. "Too much?" he says.

"No, feels good," I promise, moving back against his hand. "It all feels so good."

"Touch your cock," he says, adding another finger. I slide my hand down over the corset and move it underneath my panties, but Carlisle stops me. "No, through the fabric."

"Fuck," I mutter, circling the wet spot on the front of the satin with my thumb. I grip my cock through the fabric, my hand sliding easily over my shaft.

He spends ages getting me ready and refuses to fuck me until I'm begging for it.

"Can I take these off?" he asks, snapping the waistband of the panties against my skin.

"Not without taking off the garters," I answer, reaching down for the clips holding up my stockings. Carlisle bats my hand away and pulls down my panties regardless, leaving them bunched at my thighs. "Yes," I plead, drawn in by the sight in front of me-satin and silk and lace, delicate pretty things and my hard, heavy cock hanging between my legs. Carlisle's lean body behind me, his eyes locked on the movement of his hand between our bodies.

"God, I want you," he says, pulling his hand away. The foil crinkles, Carlisle groans a little as he rolls the condom down his cock, and then he's right there and I need him so fucking much.

"Edward," he sighs, pushing into my ass slowly, patiently.

"Don't go slow," I beg, my fingers clawing ineffectively at the glass.

"Shhh," he soothes, gripping my shoulder with his free hand. He thrusts a little harder, building up the speed gradually, adding more lube as he goes.

We don't talk this time. No dirty words, no whispers of You wanna get on top? or Fuck, that's good. Just the sound of Carlisle's even, heavy breathing and my higher-pitched whimpers and moans.

I'm having a hard time keeping myself upright-my arms are slick with sweat now, and they keep slipping down the glass. My legs are shaking and I'm relying more and more on Carlisle's arm, wrapped around my waist.

"Can we-oh, fuck..." I moan, touching my forehead to the mirror. "Can we move to the bed?" I ask, as soon as I can catch my breath.

Carlisle pulls out of me reluctantly and leads me to the bed, pushing me down onto my back. He leans over me, kissing and sucking at my neck, and tries to crawl between my legs. I'm bound by the panties around my thighs, though, and can't open my legs wide enough to accommodate him.

He reaches down with two hands, grabs the crotch of my panties and moves to rip them.

"Are you crazy?" I pant, pushing his hands away. "These are La Perla," I explain, reaching down to unclip the garters from my stockings. He chuckles as I wiggle out of the pink satin panties and kick them to the floor. Now when he grips my thigh and pushes it to the side, my legs open for him like they were meant to.

He slides back inside me easily, hitching my leg up over his hip. "God, these stockings," he mumbles, dragging his fingertips up and down over my thigh. "You are so sexy, Edward. So hot."

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down close to me for a kiss. I let my eyes close as he fucks me hard, focusing on the sensations-the push and pull of Carlisle's cock in my ass, the textures of the satin and lace rubbing against my body, even the tickle of the clips on my garter belt bouncing against my legs.

"So close," I whine, reaching down between us. Carlisle rears up, putting all of his energy into fucking me, and I feel it start to happen as soon as I wrap my hand around my dick. The tension in my body centers in my stomach, and all of my muscles get tighter and tighter until finally, I feel my cock start twitching in my hand.

Carlisle roars, slamming into me when he sees me pulling my orgasm out of my dick. "So. Fucking. Hot," he groans, thrusting into me hard a few more times before he finally stills, his face all scrunched up in pleasure as he comes.

When we're both spent, when we're reduced to a pile of exhausted flesh and sweaty lingerie, he pulls out of me carefully and flops onto his back.

"Wow," I whisper.

"Yeah," he replies, reaching over to clasp my hand in his. We lie still for a few minutes, panting and pulling ourselves back together, before we remember that we both have to go back to work at some point. He gets up to dispose of the condom and starts a hot shower before coming back to kiss me again. He picks my panties up off the floor and twists the fabric in his hands, examining them.

"Edward?" he asks, a grin spreading over his face.

"Hmmm?" I answer, still floating from my toe-curling orgasm. I look up to meet his eyes and feel so incredibly grateful for what I find there-acceptance, arousal, and lust. I'm so glad that I found someone that I can really be myself with... someone who's this excited about it, no less.

"I don't know what the fuck La Perla is, but we're going shopping there this weekend."

Please drop me a line and let me know what you think. :)

If you like the idea of Edward in panties, check out SarahAH30's The Underwear Chronicles:

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If you know of any others, leave a title in your review. ;)