Sunday, July 21, 2013

Surviving the Teenage Dream Teaser

“You spoil me, gorgeous,” he said, giving me a wry grin, picking up the next box. “Awfully light, baby?” I bit back a laugh as he opened the slender box. He pulled out a pair of bright blue knee socks with the word ‘Geek’ written on the side in orange lettering. “Really?”

“At least I got it right,” I smirked.

“You did.” He took the socks and pulled them on his feet, posing like a very nerdy supermodel.
“I think you should wear those the next time we make love,” I teased.

“You make fun, but watch…they will be me on my body when I fuck you, Mrs. Cullen,” he grinned, sitting down gracefully on the couch. The next thing he opened up was the communicator. He gave me a sloppy kiss for that one, darting up to his office and putting it on his Star Trek shrine.

“Stay standing,” I said, handing him the next present. “You’ll be going back up to your office after you open this one.”

He arched a brow and ripped off the paper. His jaw came unhinged when he saw one of the original series tricorders. From the actual show, mind you. I had papers that showed its authenticity and even received an autographed copy of one of the scripts. It was included in the bundle that I bid on Ebay. “Is this…?”

“Yep,” I said smugly, giving him a wide smile. “The patent is going to come through for your tricorder, which looks a lot less like that and more like the communicator; so I thought it would be fitting to have the original for your shrine.”

“It’s not a shrine,” Edward said as he gazed at the piece of Star Trek history.

“It’s a shrine, Edward,” I deadpanned. “You have the same chair that Captain Picard sat in for your office chair and you’ve got a wall dedicated to your Star Trek memorabilia. It’s a shrine.”

“It’s not a shrine,” he smirked, giving me a narrowed look.

“Shrine, baby. Deny it all you want. If I take a picture of said shrine, posting it on Facebook, people would agree with me. But, I’m not,” I said. “Do you like it the tricorder?”

“This really cool,” he said, hugging it to his bare chest. “And the script? ‘Troubles with Tribbles?’ Classic Star Trek. You’re the best wife ever.”

“I’m your only wife ever,” I said, arching a brow. 

No comments:

Post a Comment