I stayed in the entire weekend, simply trying to clear my head and make a decision. I knew this wouldn't be good for me, Carlisle wouldn't be good for me, because he was right. In the end, I was probably going to end up hurt. But I decided I didn't care. Said and done, I didn't think I'd regret a minute I spent with him. If he wanted to try, then we would try. There wouldn't be any harm in just getting to know him. If things went further, then lucky me.
He didn't call that weekend and I was greatly relieved for that. I needed the time to think, the space to work out exactly what I was getting myself into. I worried though that he changed his mind or maybe thought that I changed my mind. I considered changing my mind, a lot, but then I would remember how it felt to be around him and I couldn't give that up. Even if I really didn't know what would happen, what we'd become, what in the hell I was doing, where it would go, or if he'd already changed his mind, I decided this was something I just had to do.
So I did it.
The first couple 'dates' were kind of awkward. We didn't really know each other yet, but I suppose that's the whole point of dating, which I honestly haven't done a whole lot of. I dated Bella a little bit, and Garrett―who took my real virginity―but other than that... I mostly just went to clubs where my name and what I was interested in that didn't relate to sex wasn't of anyone's interest. Sometimes what I was interested in relating to sex wasn't even of anyone's interest. But I preferred not having to talk about myself, which Carlisle practically forced me to do. Then I'd get nervous and start rambling and catch him smiling and run off to try to hide in the bathroom, but that doesn't work when you date someone of the same sex.
He brought me out of my fucking shell in a big way though, and I don't know that I necessarily liked it. I think it gave him more power over me, and he already had a lot of power over me. I started to trust him and to develop more feelings that I already had, and when I was a bit tipsy one night, I made the mistake of telling him that. He didn't react well. He went on some big rant about not trusting him, because I shouldn't, he was a bad man and blah blah, I don't really remember everything, I was kind of drunk. I also think that was the first night I tried to get into his pants and the fucker rejected me because I couldn't walk straight. I'm positive I was pretty persuasive because he agreed to tuck me into bed, only the tucking in actually ended up being just a tucking in. The most substantial part of the night, the thing I remember most, is the way he looked at me before he left, pity and anger...
Despite the fact that he could be a little self-degrading, I learned that he was mostly a wonderful man. He was kind and generous and charming and funny, all the more reason for my feelings to get stronger. But I couldn't say anything because it pissed him off when I brought it up, and they weren't reciprocated, which was a major blow to the gut. I had no idea what we were, and every time I tried to talk to him about it, he'd shut down. Eventually, I just stopped talking about it, he didn't want to know how I felt, he didn't want to label us, hell, he probably didn't even really want me. He was probably just lonely, and I was just an easy form of entertainment. Something to pass the time, someone to take his mind off of things. No one, really.
Then I started to shut down again, reverting to not talking at all because I couldn't say what I really wanted to, what I felt. He noticed of course, he seemed to notice everything. I'd been to his house before, but it felt different when neither of us were talking to each other, barely looking at each other. I just wanted to go home. Instead, he took me to his place, and I thought that he was just going to get it over with. The sexual tension between us up until that point had been ridiculous and frustrating and we fucking made out all the damn time, which didn't help.
But he sat me down on his couch, and he made me spill it. It was like taking a knife to my abdomen, my guts just poured right out of me. He was gentle and caring and sweet, and it didn't fucking help, because then the one fucking thing I was trying to hold back came tumbling out.
"I'm falling in love with you," I whispered into his neck as he held me close.
I hadn't used the 'L' word to describe how I felt for him, saying that I cared and that he meant a lot to me had been enough. But it was the truth, I was falling in love with him, and I couldn't pretend I wasn't.
He went statue still, seemingly not even moving to breathe. I couldn't regret having said it, I needed him to understand.
I pulled out of his embrace and found his eyes closed, his face blank. "I'm falling in love with you," I repeated. "I know you can't, or don't want to, return the feeling, I'm not telling you to hear it back, because I know I won't. It doesn't change how I feel. So, I said it, you can tell me to leave or whatever it is you want now."
He remained quiet and still for longer than I could really stand, so I moved to get up, but he grabbed onto me, stopping me. The amount of emotion in his eyes was staggering, and wholly frightening. I'd never seen such conflict in all of my life.
"Do you think that I want you to leave?" he asked softly.
"I don't know what you want, Carlisle, that's the problem," I replied, twisting my wrist in his hand to clasp our fingers together.
"You were honest with me, Edward, I would never ask you to leave because of that."
"No, you wouldn't ask me to leave, Carlisle, you're too selfless. But if it's what you want, then I think it would be better if that's what happened."
He shook his head once minutely, but he couldn't seem to verbally force the words out of his mouth.
That was truly what was the issue between us. Carlisle didn't know what he wanted. I think half of him was trying to push me away and hoping that I'd never come back, that half wanted to be alone in its misery. But the rest of him wanted me, it's what caused him to cling to me in moments like this where I tried to figure out which part of him was more powerful. But I had no idea, and he had no idea.
I could see it in his eyes that he was feeling something close to what I was, but there were so many other feelings there with it. He was scared and hurt and lonely, angry and bitter and lost, but at the same time happy and relieved and in love... But mostly it was just the fear and the anger that showed through.
I thought it was the end of the road, we either drove off the cliff together or we turned around and never looked back.
And it was his choice.
So I waited.
And I waited.
And waited some more.
His hand in mine never moved and it was two long hours that we sat in silence next to each other on the couch. I had to let him choose, take it all the way or break it off completely.
I didn't think his silence was a good thing.
His voice caused me to startle when he finally spoke, snapping me from my thoughts.
"I promised you that I would try," he said.
It didn't feel like enough, but I accepted it and let him lead me to his bedroom. He stopped next to the bed and we stood awkwardly for a moment before Carlisle started to toe his shoes off. I took a deep breath, swallowed down my unease, and followed suit, moving to unbutton my pants once my shoes and socks were off.
Carlisle's hand stopped mine, and he shook his head. Confused, I dropped my hands and he caught them in his own, raising them to his face, kissing my palms while he looked into my eyes―a battle raging in his. Slowly, he let my hands fall back down to my sides and he took a step towards me. I remained still, letting him breach the gap. He did, closing the distance between us, his arms winding tight around my neck as every inch of his body pushed flush against mine.
"I want to make love to you," he whispered.
My heart skipped a beat, hearing that word.
"I want to show you how I feel for you," he continued.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, securing him to me and I felt his eyelashes flutter against my cheek. Our chests heaved together, breaths ragged in each other's ear, nerves, tension, fear, need. His lips moved to mine, kissing until my lips were sore and needy sounds were coming from my throat. We fell to the bed together, his lips still moving over mine. It felt like hours passed as he kissed me, holding me but somehow never really touching me the way I needed him to.
I was painfully ready, I didn't know how much more I could take. Every pass of his tongue over mine, every press of lips, every brush of teeth was slowly killing me. It'd been weeks since we started this, I couldn't keep rubbing it out when he turned me on with his talented mouth, I needed him.
As my sounds grew more and more frustrated, my hips started to twist in search of anything to gain friction, to relieve some of the unbearable pressure. When I finally found his thigh, I greedily wrapped my legs around it and shamelessly grinded against it, grunting my pleasure into his mouth.
Carlisle shoved me off, pushing me onto my back and I groaned out my disappointment. He chuckled at me, swinging his leg over my hips, shocking me as he straddled my hips. He didn't touch though, no, he just continued to fucking tease, his ass just far enough away that I couldn't get my desired friction. I remained still as he started to unbutton my shirt. It was a fucking challenge to say the least, he moved so goddamn slow.
Finally when my shirt was open, he touched me again, cool fingers on bare heated skin. Hovering over my thighs, he brought me up into a sitting position, slipping my shirt off my arms before laying me back down again. His hands moved torturously slow over my shoulders, then my chest, just barely brushing over my nipples before continuing further. He traced my ribs one by one, then over my flat stomach and to my bellybutton. My hips jerked as he hands went further, fingertips tickling over the sensitive skin leading to my pants. I was panting by the time he was finished mapping out my hips, but then he started all over again, slowly making his way back up. I forced my eyelids shut and clamped my jaw, trying to quell the urge to beg.
As his fingers brushed across my nipples, my hips jerked again and then again as he circled, and when he pinched, I couldn't control myself. I gripped his hips, forcing him down as I arched my hips up. My moans of relief filled the air around us as I rubbed my denim-confined erection against the thinly covered flesh of his ass. He sat down on me hard, forcing me down against the bed and rocked his hips once before pulling away again.
I nearly screamed in frustration and he chuckled at my expression when I looked up at him. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, leaning in to kiss me again.
I whimpered and panted as he started to kiss lower, taking forever just to make it to my nipples, then spending not nearly enough time there as he slowly made his way further down. I groaned in defeat as his tongue dipped into my bellybutton, then dragged over to my left hip, then to my fucking bellybutton again, then to my other hip, and fucking back to my bellybutton.
I groaned out loudly as his tongue swirled and flicked and teased, and I gripped my hair in my hands and pulled, losing my fucking mind. "Are you trying to kill me?" I wondered.
He pinched at the skin just below my bellybutton with his teeth and I jerked reflexively, my erection thrusting hard against his chin. He sighed and moved his mouth right where I wanted it, sort of. Through the fabric of my jeans, I could feel the heat of his mouth as he blew hot damp breath onto me. The neediest sound I'd ever heard came out of my mouth. He simply blew more hot hair.
"Please," I practically screamed. "I can't fucking take it, please, Carlisle," I begged.
His sat up and away from me, and I wanted to cry, but then his hands were on my fly. I removed my hands from my hair and helped him shove my jeans and underwear off my legs. My pants just barely hit the floor when Carlisle's hand encircled the base of my length. I tried to stifle my reaction, but I couldn't. My heels dug into the mattress hard, raising my ass into the air, and my hands fisted his hair, bringing him down as I openly begged him to suck my cock.
His mouth enveloped me in heat and wet and I cried my approval as a shiver of pleasure tore me to pieces. His soft mouth took half of me while he stroked the other half with a suddenly wet fist. I growled and yelled and moaned and time was inconsequential when something felt this good. I don't know if it was hours or seconds that he had me under him, I didn't care, but however long it was, I couldn't hold back, and I didn't want to. All I could feel or think about was the soft and warmth and wet as it moved over me.
I bellowed my warning, and he took it in stride, increasing the speed of his hand twisting and tugging and the force of his lips holding, tongue curling, cheeks hollowing, throat gripping. He knowingly pulled my orgasm straight out of my body through my cock and swallowed down every last drop for his effort.
I collapsed, staggered and shuddering, against the bed while Carlisle released me from his mouth and hand, pressing both his face and his palm into the concaves at my hips. My fingers were still tightly gripping his hair, and though I knew I should let him go, I didn't want to. I wasn't ready to let go, I wasn't finished yet.
I tugged on his hair until his mouth was at mine and I kissed him deeply, tasting the salt of my release on his talented tongue. I didn't give him a chance to protest before I shoved him onto his back and jumped on top of him. He didn't complain, but instead massaged my thighs as I removed his shirt, then hurriedly yanked his pants off. I didn't have his patience, I couldn't tease him like he did to me. Instead I went right where I needed to be and took everything that I could of his large cock.
I wasn't exactly practiced at the whole oral sex thing, but I tried my hardest and I could control my urge to gag fairly well, which aided me in getting him at least partway into my throat. He lightly rubbed at my face and scalp with his fingers, caressing me but never guiding me.
From my place at his cock, I surveyed his body, incredibly pleased with what I found. His torso and arms were toned, and though I knew he was physically fit as we'd jogged together before, I wasn't aware just how fit he was. Despite being thirty-eight years old, his body was still almost youthful with hard, taut lines of muscle under clear, flawless skin. Pink nipples embellished firm pectorals, strong shoulders led to lean but muscular arms, a smooth ridged abdomen ended at trim, sexy hips. His thighs, although I couldn't see them felt wonderfully firm beneath me and the length and width of his cock was impressive to say the least. His sparse light-colored pubic hair told me he was indeed a natural blonde, though I didn't question that in the least. Overall, I couldn't find a damn thing I didn't like about Carlisle Cullen. He was as beautiful as I ever imagined.
He stared down at me as I bobbed my head up and down, never taking his eyes off of mine, but never making a sound either. His cock was unquestionably hard and he looked undeniably aroused, but he just didn't seem to enjoy what I was doing. And Christ, I was giving it my all and my fucking jaw started to hurt, but he just lay there. Growing distressed, I closed my eyes and tried harder, but to no avail. No matter how much tongue I used, how much suction, how many times I swallowed around him, how far I could get him into my throat, how many sounds I made around him, he didn't respond.
What was I doing wrong? I never had a problem doing this before.
Disappointed, and with a sore jaw, I pulled off of him and sat up beside him. He immediately sat up too, gently gripping the back of my neck as he kissed me. "Thank you, Edward," he whispered. "You look beautiful when you do that."
I couldn't stop myself from scoffing. "Well, I obviously wasn't doing it right," I muttered.
"No, you were doing it exactly right, you were doing it wonderfully."
"You sure didn't seem to be enjoying yourself," I said uncomfortably.
"I was enjoying myself, very much, I just have other plans before I show you how good you feel to me."
I scoffed again, not really believing him.
"When you're my age, Edward, you'll understand. You learn how to control yourself much better. It felt incredible, and I could have let loose damn near immediately after feeling your mouth around me, but I don't have the wonderful gift of youth anymore." His cool fingers gently brushed against my hot, stiff length and he chuckled quietly when it twitched at the contact. "I don't think you even went completely soft. If I came, that'd be the end of it."
I sighed. "You could have at least moaned a little bit or something, you're going to give me a complex about my oral skills if you just lie there."
He chuckled again, combing his fingers through my hair. "I'm sorry," he said, leaning in to kiss me more.
Remembering his mention of 'other plans', I pulled back and questioned him about them.
He just smirked. "I'm not going to ruin all the fun and tell you what's in store for you."
"I'm not really a big fan of surprises," I grumbled.
"That's a shame, I guess we can just call it a night then."
"No!" I gasped.
More fucking chuckling from him started to aggravate me. "Then you're going to have to make an exception about surprises, because I have a few for you."
"Fine. Can we start now?" I asked impatiently.
He sighed, giving me a disgruntled look. "You really have to learn some patience, I'm tempted to teach you tonight."
"On second thought, maybe I will go," I joked.
He laughed, then shoved me back into the pillows. "Surprise number one..." he trailed off, straddling my thighs as he leaned over my to pull open a drawer. "I did some shopping. I wasn't really sure what you'd like or expect or want."
In the drawer was a wide variety of everything pertaining to sex. There was porn, different types of condoms and lubes, sex toys―from cock rings to dildos. He went all fucking out. I hesitantly leaned over and grabbed a strip of ribbed latex condoms and a bottle of silicone lubricant, then slammed his little treasure drawer shut.
"I'm a simple man, Carlisle," I said, handing him my choices.
"I went overboard, didn't I?"
I chuckled and nodded. "A little, but I'm sure you can use all of that on yourself." He looked slightly horrified about that and I laughed at him. "Yes, you went a bit over the top, but I appreciate it. Thank you for considering the fact that I might like to be handcuffed to your bed while you fucked me with a lifelike dildo and licked flavored lube off my cock."
He glared, but said, "You're welcome."
"Am I topping?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows at him and my hips beneath him.
Growing noticeably uncomfortable, he started to stutter, something I believed very few people have ever seen him do. "Oh, um, if... if you want to, I guess, but I've never..."
"I'm kidding, I don't really like topping, I'm just trying to encourage you along. Hurry up, I don't have patience and I'm a needy boy."
He sighed at that, visibly relaxing. "What position do you want to start in then, needy boy?" he asked amusedly.
"The one where you fuck my brains out."
He growled and dropped down to kiss me, biting my already bruised lips. "I can do that," he assured. I heard the tear of a packet being separated at the perforated line and I ducked my head to watch him roll the condom on.
"Do you need me to, uh... Or?" he questioned awkwardly, motioning toward the lube.
"I can do it," I told him, grabbing the bottle and popping the lid.
"Oh, okay. Do you want me to leave?"
"What? No. Why would I want you to leave?"
"I don't know, I thought perhaps you'd want privacy."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Are you sure you're okay with doing this?"
"Yes, absolutely, I just want you to be as comfortable as possible."
I rolled my eyes again and squirted some of the lube onto my fingers, rubbing it in slightly to warm it up. Carlisle moved to sit beside me and I raised my knees, spreading my legs apart to give myself room to work. I met his eyes and winked at him as I reached down to ready myself. His eyes moved from mine and watched me as I gently rubbed my entrance then easily slid a finger in. The second finger went in smoothly and I fingered myself for a few minutes. He seemed to like watching and it felt nice, but I wanted more.
I removed my fingers and poured more lube onto my hand. Wrapping a tight fist around his condom covered cock, I worked the lubricant all over him and was satisfied to actually hear him make a little noise this time. Apparently he was taking my advice.
With us both ready, I moved my hand to my own cock and rubbed the lube into my skin then gripped his hips and guided him to me. Between my legs, he ruthlessly began to slide his cock up and down, alternating between sliding his cock all the way up until his head nudged my balls and just letting his tip tease my entrance. It was driving me fucking insane.
I grabbed my cock in my hand, stroking from top to bottom then pushing down hard at the base. Carlisle angrily took my wrist in his hand, pulling my hand from my cock, and at the same time, he pressed into me hard. I yelped and twisted my hand into his, holding on tightly as my head went back. I grunted my praise as the pain turned to pleasure, but he waited until I looked up at him again.
Then he really settled in, sliding his thighs right in under mine, and settled in. His cock really was big, and the more he gave to me, the further my eyes rolled back into my head. I didn't let go of his hand.
He stilled completely as every last inch was buried to the hilt. "How are you feeling?" he asked throatily.
I rolled my head forward and closed my dry mouth, swallowing and licking my lips before I attempted answering him. "How do you think I'm feeling?" I asked shortly.
His eyes narrowed as his jaw tightened. "I wouldn't be asking if I knew."
I groaned and rocked my hips, moaning when I actually felt him move inside of me. The just sitting there with his cock lodged into my body was slightly uncomfortable, I needed him to fuck me. "I'm feeling just fucking stellar, are you planning on fucking me this century?"
His eyes narrowed further yet, while his jaw kind of bulged. Then he started to pull out and I just fucking knew what he was going to do.
I gripped the inside of his knee with my free hand―he wouldn't let the other go―and held on tightly, trying to get leverage higher, anywhere, just to keep him in. "No, no, no," I begged. "Don't, please don't. I'll be good," I promised.
But he pulled completely out anyway and I growled and ground my teeth in frustration. I dug my nails angrily into his thigh and he pulled my hand off of him, pinning it down to the bed. He didn't say a word and I just clenched my eyes shut, pissed off that he was doing this to me. I wanted to fucking snap at him, to tell him he could just fucking spank one out because I wasn't standing for this teasing anymore, but I knew where that'd leave me.
Unfucked, needy, and at the mercy of my own boring hands. Again.
No.
I fucking needed this, I needed him. Which meant that I was in for a long fucking night, potentially with cruel teasing and a lack of actual fucking with the rate he was going at.
By the time I forced myself to calm down enough to swallow and relax my jaw, finally able to open my eyes and look at him, he slammed back into me hard.
My eyes weren't even half-open when he did it, and I wondered vaguely if he could see anything but the whites of my eyes. I screamed my pleasure and my pain and his hands released my wrists enough to let me twist them down into the sheets. He didn't move again as he stayed deep in my body, my shuddering body, my craving body, my owned body―I was his.
"How are you feeling?" he asked again, calm as a cucumber as I looked up at him in mild shock and horror and lust.
How could he do this? To me, and to himself? How the hell could he control himself this way?
"I'm good, great," I corrected. "I'm great. Thank you."
He raised one eyebrow and I tried to silently beg him to please, please, please, please move, while not moving myself whatsoever. I knew better now. I couldn't take the feeling of being empty again, not when I knew how it felt to be stretched around him.
"That's good. How do you want it?" he asked.
"However you do, whatever you want. Just please. Please, please, please," I pleaded. I never stopped begging as he started to move out, I only grew more urgent and unrelenting, and when it was just the head of his cock still in me, I wasn't even breathing, just gasping a continuous stings of 'please's.
And when he started to move back into me, I sighed and gasped at the same time, my eyes rolling back into my head again. He moved slowly, inching forward without a rush, without compulsion, just... slow. I moaned and sighed and groaned and hummed and whimpered and whined, and that was all in just one unhurried, deliberate, drawn-out movement.
As he started to pull out again, he changed his hold on my wrists, pinning them upwards instead. He lowered himself over me and I widened my legs, then hugged him with them as he settled between. But I didn't try to guide him, God no. Carlisle would do what he wanted, how he wanted, and I was at his mercy for however long he wanted. He could ask me what I wanted, but I knew, deep down, it didn't matter. He'd have me exactly as he wanted me, and he wouldn't think twice about it, and neither would I. He could beat me in any battle, he was stronger than I was, and I belonged to him, I wouldn't even fight. I couldn't fight, I was powerless.
He unhurriedly kissed me, matching the kiss with the movement of his hips and I was his, completely. His name was the only word to fall from my lips. I breathed his air, I reveled in his touch, I thought of nothing but him, I felt nothing but him.
It mounted and it mounted, until every slow withdraw and push in turned painful. It hurt so good, but still, it hurt. I couldn't take much more.
"Carlisle, Carlisle, Carlisle," I cried.
He fucking knew. He didn't make me wait. He kissed me hard and released my wrists, only to beat me to the hold on my cock.
Fucking Heaven on Earth, he didn't tease me, he didn't make me wait, he didn't even make me beg anymore. He put a strong, hard grip on my cock and pulled and jerked until I screamed for him to stop. He did stop when the pleasure turned painful again and I panted as soothing fingers calmed me. He only moved those fingers, nothing else, and feeling him smear my cum over my chest and stomach made my breathing slow, but only minutely.
I could feel my cock going flaccid between us and I forced my eyelids open to watch as he dragged his fingertips around and around, gathering the pearly fluid and rubbing it into my skin. Then his eyes darted to mine, then to my lips, and wet fingertips followed, spreading the moisture over my mouth.
His eyes moved back to mine, and I fought back my instinct to immediately lick my lips, I waited. I waited until I caught movement in the fringe of my vision, and I watched as he sucked his lower lip between his teeth. I looked up to his eyes again, but he wasn't meeting my stare, he was watching my mouth and I stopped waiting. Tongue first, I tasted myself on my lips and his mouth dropped open, a small sound coming out. I licked at my lips slowly, watching him watch me as I cleaned away every last trace.
Then his fingers were back, wet again, and I waited, but this time it was he who licked my mouth and sucked my lips, but I met him with a greedy tongue and he groaned loudly, hips pushing against me, cock twitching, still in me. Still hard.
That was when I realized that he hadn't cum yet.
He hadn't cum, and I wasn't even fucking disappointed or self-conscious. I was happy. Because my dick was hard again and if he hadn't cum, then I was in for more and I couldn't fucking wait because I really was a needy boy without any patience and I was greedy and I wanted cock hard and fast.
So with him distracted, still laving my lips in attention, I shoved him off of me, hissing when he pulled from my body, leaving me empty. Before he had a chance to do anything I didn't want, I was on top of him, sliding down his hard length and shuddering and moaning with every inch.
I was surprised, but then again not when I finally looked up at him from my place on his cock. He looked proud and maybe a little surprised himself, not at all angry or even upset. Happy. He looked happy.
Wiggling my ass side to side, feeling him move within me, I smirked down at him before clamping my muscles tight and stilling completely. I laughed when I felt him twitch.
"How are you feeling, Carlisle?" I asked.
He just answered with a mirrored smirk. "I know how you're feeling," he said thickly, smugly, moving one hand to my hip and the other to my cock, where he used one finger to tease the rim, then the slit, gathering moisture before putting his finger in his mouth, humming. "I love the human body, don't get me wrong, but I wish it were more flexible so I could have you in my mouth while you rode me. Your taste is exquisite."
I nearly groaned, I nearly bucked my hips, I did definitely twitch, and he noticed that for sure, because his shit-eating grin came back full force and I wiped it away with two fingers smeared with my cooling cum. He groaned around my fingers, hips grinding up into my ass.
I really don't know how he could tease. I just don't. Feeling his cock sliding just so slightly in and out as he grinded, I fucking lost it. Any composure, any plan I made had was shot. I had to fuck him. I had to fuck him now, hard, fast, shamelessly.
I did just that. Riding on his endless cock was the most tiring, unimaginable thing I'd ever done in my life. My thighs burned and my balls ached and I wanted to push him over the edge, so I wouldn't take my bouncing cock in my hand. I wanted to make him cum, so I leaned back and gripped his thighs to stop myself from forcing my impending orgasm, but he used his own hands and he knew just what to do.
My whole mindset changed, and I didn't give a shit if he came. I hoped he didn't, in fact, because I didn't think I was done with him yet. His hand worked expertly and I clamped down on him hard, rocking on his cock right where it felt the best and grinding my teeth down to nothing to keep in my scream of ecstasy.
I came hard and endlessly and he pulled every fucking drop of cum from my body. I doubted I could do this again. I didn't think I could ever get it up again. I was fucking tired and spent, but it was he who wasn't finished yet.
Furiously fast, I was flipped onto my stomach and I barely registered the feel of empty before being full again. My cock rubbed agonizingly against the sheets, more sensitive than I'd ever felt it, and I squirmed to raise my ass, but hard thrusts shoved me back into the bed each time and the squirming made it worse. His cock pounded deep into my body, strong hands spreading my cheeks while his legs locked mine closed, keeping me down.
I writhed and cried and clutched at pillows, at first because I couldn't stand it, but then because I couldn't get enough of it. My cock hardened and I was again begging for a release. I was insatiable, I couldn't get enough, and I wanted another orgasm, just to feel the pulse holding him in place, to feel weightless in him arms again and again.
But he wouldn't let my touch myself and the sheets were chaffing and not providing any pleasure at all as he slammed into me, skin slapping loudly and continuously, not faltering, not quickening, just steady and even.
He pulled out of my body unexpectedly, and I was momentarily stunned, wondering. He didn't seem like the 'moneyshot' type of guy. Would he really bust his nut all over my ass like some fucking porno God? That would be offensive, to say the least, but I still somehow found the idea hot and wondered if he watched a lot of gay porn, because he really was something of a porn star himself.
Then he asked me to turn over. So I did, but he hadn't even torn the condom off and wasn't stroking himself, so I apparently wasn't getting a face full either.
He grabbed the bottle of lube and coated his cock again before guiding himself back inside of me, then taking my dick firmly into his warm, wet hand and stroking it slowly.
Oh, God, he's so much better than a porn star.
He chuckled and told me thanks, and I hadn't expected to actually say that out loud, but I laughed with him. His head rolled back as he completely filled my body again and he moaned loudly, for the first time ever. I stared up at him as he continued to stroke my cock, slowly thrusting forward and back.
His body was covered in sweat, the remnants of my last orgasm was spread across his skin, mixing with the sweat. His toned, hard body worked faultlessly, and he really, really was better than any porn star I'd ever seen. He was so good looking, so beautiful, so sexy, so, so perfect, and he was immaculate in bed, he would never be outdone, ever. They just didn't make sex Gods like him everyday, and I was never going to forget this night.
He brought his head forward again and his lip was clamped between his teeth and he looked so young to me. He always looked young to me, but never like this. He looked youthful and carefree and beautiful.
"I love you," I told him.
And he smiled. Such a beautiful smile. He lowered himself over me, never taking his hand off my cock, never faltering in his consistent rhythm, and he kissed me. He kissed me soundly.
He broke away with a grunt and I heard his nails dig into the pillow beneath my head as he fisted it in his hand. He panted hard and he moved quicker, his hips insistently pushing against mine.
The most beautiful sounds came out of his mouth; moans and gasps and grunts. Then the words I'd been dying to hear all night. "Oh, God, Edward," he cried. "I can't hold it back any longer. You're going to make me cum."
And then he begged. "Please, Edward, cum with me. Please."
I moaned right back at him, feeling the coiling tightening, the bubble growing, getting ready to burst, ready to snap, ready to break.
"I love you. I love you too," he panted into my neck, burying his face into my skin and my hair and the pillow and then mumbling a name that I didn't hear over the sound of my orgasm ripping through my body.
He stopped moving within me, but his hand continued to tug and pull, and I didn't know if I even had any cum left in my body. I gave it all to him. I surrendered myself, and it was all worth it. He loved me, and he was throbbing deep in my body, releasing his so deserved orgasm.
I could feel his chest undulating, feel him shaking in my arms, feel him letting go of his tension within me. I could hear him sobbing his pleasure into my ear.
He slid from my body and I sighed, closing my eyes. As he pulled away from me, I didn't think he'd mind if I rolled over―he'd have to wash these sheets anyway―so that's what I did.
I was exhausted and tired and happy. He told me he loved me.
I fell asleep almost instantly, my nose pressed into the pillow that smelled so much of him.
– – –
I woke freezing cold, shivering and mildly confused.
A smile instantly stretched across my face, remembering where I was, what happened between us, and I rolled, looking for his warmth. But he's not there and the bed was cold, and there were no blankets, there's no heat, no warmth at all.
I pulled myself from the bed, knowing I was a disheveled mess, but I didn't care. I hadn't had a shower and I'd just literally forced myself from bed after not nearly enough sleep considering the marathon sex, and I don't think I should be embarrassed about the way I look or smell or feel, because we made love and there wasn't a damn reason for me to feel insecure.
But when I find him in his study, that's exactly how I felt. Seeing the flawless skin of his shoulders clean, the obvious tidiness of his washed hair on his head, I felt uncomfortable. He'd showered and he was fresh, and I probably stunk and looked like shit, and I doubted he'd want to see me this way.
He stood from his chair, and I didn't think he'd noticed me because he didn't turn to face me, but I gasped at the sight of his back and he froze, his body going rigid.
His back was covered in angry red lines, scratches, and splotches of discolored skin, bruises. I did that, I marked him that way. I couldn't remember doing it, and I was so fucking ashamed of myself.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, barely more than a breath.
I knew he heard me. He set down whatever was in his hands stiffly, like he was forcing himself not to throw it, and his knuckles turned white with the death grip he put on the back of his desk chair.
"Carlisle," I said hesitantly, moving a step in his direction, but I froze when he looked at me over his shoulder.
There was no hint of composure in the man that turned to face me. He wasn't the same man from the front as he was from the back. His skin may have been clean and his hair may have been free of dried sweat, but his face was agonized.
His front didn't bear the marks of my passion, but his face was the reflection of his pain. Those minor wounds couldn't be the cause for such suffering, though. I knew that. It was more. There was more, and my entire body seized with the knowledge.
"Please sit down," he said stiffly.
I was nude before him. Nude and dirty and stinking of sex and sweat, but that wasn't the half of it. I was bare. Stripped to the bone before him. He saw straight through me. He looked directly into my eyes, but he saw nothing. I was never so exposed in my life. I was never so invisible.
I sat, more because I couldn't stand anymore than anything else. And he sat too, pants covering the parts of his body that I wished I could hide on my own. But I didn't think that would help me, it wasn't my dick I wanted to hide so much as my heart.
Then he spoke, and his voice was rough like he'd been crying for hours, but I didn't want to know if that was the case, so I looked past him like he did to me. I saw through him. Or I tried to.
His voice was rough, but monotonous, betraying no emotion to me even though I sat before him with my bleeding heart.
"My wife died five years ago, I've been with no one since, and I'll be with no one again."
That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. No goodbye, no apology, just 'my wife is dead, but I won't let you replace her'.
I didn't even want to replace her. I understood. He loved her, it was as simple as that, and I really did understand that. But he wouldn't even trying to make room for me. He just wanted me to go, of that I was positive.
So I stood, and my knees shook, but I made them hold me up. I said nothing. But he did, and his voice made my knees buckle and I fell right back into that chair.
"Don't you have any questions?"
He wasn't looking at me, or through me, at all anymore, but at the floor. The floor was more interesting. The floor didn't smell like road kill or look like it―or feel like it.
"What would I ask?" I heard myself ask. I was shocked by how emotionless I sounded to myself. Like him. I sounded like him, blank and empty. I wondered if I looked like him, so agonized and tortured. I wondered if he felt like me.
"You can ask anything you want to," he replied.
"I'm not interested in more of your lies," I said, surprisingly still cool, vacant of my terror, my pain, my hate, my love.
"I never lied to you, Edward, never. I've always been honest," he whispered, meeting my eyes with his cold, dead stare.
There was nothing there. It was repulsive. It wasn't the man I fell in love with. "You told me you loved me," I challenged him, staring into his eyes.
Something flashed, something, deep within him, but it disappeared with a blink. "I do love you, but I love my wife. I tried, Edward. I can't move on. I'm sor―"
"Do not," I roared, cutting him off. "Do not apologize. You're not fucking sorry."
"I am," he insisted. "I'm so sorry for what I did to you. I shouldn't have let you fall in love with me."
I laughed bitterly at that. "Let me? Like you had a choice to either let me or not. Like I had choice. There was no choice, Carlisle. I loved you before I knew you."
And it's there, it flashed again, through those vacant blue eyes. Life, love, something, it brightened, then dulled, and disappeared. "I'm sorry," he said, without a hint of emotion.
"You honestly feel it, you feel what we have between us, our love?"
He answered predictably dully, "Yes, I feel our love, I feel your love, and I feel the love I have for you, but it doesn't change anything."
"It doesn't change anything?" I repeated.
"No."
That was all the finality I needed. He was perfectly clear. He loved me, but he loved his dead wife more. I paled in her shadow. I didn't stand a chance. I never had. "That's all I really need to know," I told him, standing before him, surprisingly steady though I felt like I'd crumble at any moment.
"One more moment, please," he asked.
"I owe you nothing," I spat back at him, striding for the door.
"No, but I owe you one last thing, Edward. Please, just let me make you one promise."
"I don't want your promises."
"I know you don't, and I'm sorry, but I only want what's best for you."
"Fuck you," I screamed, snapping. "Fuck you, you are what's best for me, but you won't even try. You're giving up, so fuck you," I yelled, whirling around to face him.
I didn't expect to find him crumbling, I didn't expect to see his tears, I didn't expect to see him staring at me with such pain in his eyes that it was unbearable to look at, and impossible to look away from. He was being honest, he did love me and I could see it there, on his face. And I hated him for it. I hated that he could love me and hurt me this way at the same time.
"Do you think this is what she wants for you?" I screamed at him. "Do you think she wants you to be miserable? Do you think she'd be happy to know that you gave up on the one chance you took because of her? Because I don't think she'd want this for you. I don't know her, Carlisle, but I know you. I know you're a good man, I know you wouldn't have married a woman that was so sadistic that she'd want her husband to suffer for the rest of his life because she was gone. She's not coming back. She's never coming back."
"It doesn't matter what she would want or what you want, Edward."
No. No, I guess it didn't. I mattered what he wanted. And that wasn't me. Not anymore.
"I'm not what is good for you, I'm a half of a man with no heart. My heart is in heaven with my wife, and I'm sure she would want me to love you, Edward, I'm sure she is why I do love you, but I can't condemn you to this life. I'll never be happy, I'll never love you completely, I'll never be able to wake up with you every morning and pretend that you're who I want to find sleeping next to me. That's why I'm doing what's best for you. I'm telling you to go and I'm not looking back. You'll never see me again, Edward. That is a promise that I will keep. You won't see me again."
"And I'll think of you every day, you'll be my Esme," I said softly.
His jaw shut so tightly, I heard his teeth snap clear across the room. "Don't speak her name," he yelled angrily. "You don't know of our love, you cannot speak of it. The love that my wife and I share, it is the love of soul mates. You and I are not more than lovers, Edward. You are young, you are naïve, you think you know what true love is, but I am telling you now that you do not. You may think of me every day, but only at first, you will forget me, eventually. I know it hurts now, but you'll heal and you'll move on. I was not meant for you, I was meant for someone else. I love you, Edward, I do, but not enough. You'll understand someday, after you find the other half of your soul, the one who holds your heart."
He looked almost peaceful before me, and I wanted to grab the desk and hurl it at him. I wanted to pound his flesh to a bloody pulp. I wanted to make love to him until he forgot this ridiculous thought of leaving me. I wanted to run for my fucking life.
"Go, Edward."
So I went, and I heard him promise again that I wouldn't ever have to see him after today, and I froze. I froze and my heart stopped cold and I turned to face him. All I saw was pain and emptiness and I was scared, so scared of what that meant. But behind him, on the bookcase was the rack of acclamations, achievements, accomplishments in his field of study. Would he give up his half life, kill himself, or would he continue, funding research and doing bounds himself in his wife's name?
I decided that I didn't care. It was his half life. It was his choice. I was not his choice. His mind was made and he wouldn't see me ever again. That was his choice. He could move away, to a bigger city with a bigger lab and more options, farther away from 'home' or he could end his suffering.
But I knew Carlisle Cullen.
He was a masochistic bastard.
He'd live his life to the bitter end, taking every lick of pain he was given.
And as I collected my clothing, I was happy. I was happy he spared me that pain. Because he was right, I didn't want that half life with him. I didn't want his pain. I didn't want the torment of his dead wife weighting down on me.
So I collected my clothing and I said a silent goodbye to Carlisle Cullen, and I took my disjointed, barely beating, bleeding heart along with me, because it didn't belong to him.
