Written for the "Make the Yuletwi'd Gay" fic exchange
Title: Not Quite Christmas Shoes
Pairing: Edward/Carlisle
Rating: M
Summary: AU. Doctor Carlisle Cullen becomes enchanted with the strength of heart he finds in his patient, Edward Masen. Following the Influenza-ridden young man through the streets of Chicago, he is determined to save him. Later, as he helps the young vampire adjust to this new unlife, they find solace from the past and present in one another. Written for prompter SleepyValentina.
September 1919
"Carlisle, what was I like in those last few days before I was changed? I was so ill that I do not remember much." And you've always evaded answering, Edward added silently to himself.
Carlisle set aside his paper and looked at the young man who had been his companion for the happiest year of his life. They'd had to abandon Chicago for the arctic tundra, seeking lands without intruding minds, so that Edward did not have so much invading his senses until he learned to manage his gift.
From time to time, Carlisle knew that Edward had picked up on his thoughts, those of a more carnal nature. His companion would duck his head and then speak more loudly, drowning out the words or scene he had witnessed. Carlisle did his best to keep his thoughts guarded when within Edward's range, about two miles for humans and other vampires, at least four or five for Carlisle.
"Why do you want to know?" Carlisle answered, and then looked out the window of their train car. I'll tell you anything you desire to know. It's not as if I can hide my thoughts from you, Edward.
Edward's laugh, when it came, was stressed. "I know that, Carlisle, but you are quite good at not thinking about what I want to know. Was it that bad?"
He crossed the space between their facing seats in the private sleeper car and sat beside Carlisle. "Was I that horrid? Edward sighed as his maker closed his eyes, thousands of memories sifting through this mind as he came to the ones he wanted.
"You were ill with a virus we were incapable of curing. Perhaps advanced medicine will be able to prevent future outbreaks of this severity. To answer your question, no, you were far from 'horrid.' You were..." Carlisle switched to a silent response. Edward, you were stronger than anyone I have ever met. Resolved to show his companion everything, including his own moments of weakness, Carlisle opened his thoughts completely to the mind-reader. I hope you will forgive me for all I've done.
Flashback
"Where's Edward Masen, Junior? His bed is empty." Doctor Cullen looked from the clipboard at the end of the patient's cot to the nurse and then to the ill woman on the bed beside the missing teen's space. The sheets had not been taken and the patient information remained, leaving Carlisle doubtful that the young patient had died. His acute senses did not detect the recent cloying scent of death, merely that of illness, unwashed bodies, and bodily waste.
"Where's my son? He said he was better; that he was going out. Edward left hours ago." The woman's voice was the barest whisper, not much more than a breath, yet Carlisle heard it as clear as the church bells tolling across town stating the hour as six in the evening. Elizabeth Masen's green eyes were losing their spark; the color had dulled to a green-tinged gray some time in the morning as her life's force slowly ebbed away, leaving her a sweaty shell of the social matriarch he had seen about the city before the Influenza had taken a hold.
Knowing there wasn't much time for Elizabeth in this world, Carlisle had to find her son and get him back to the hospital to say good-bye, as well as to continue his own medical care. Carlisle was not a tracker; he had no special powers besides his own strength of will and a determination to save humankind. For the children denied him by his own sire, Carlisle was determined to save this young boy and ensure he had as full a life as possible.
Carlisle quickly picked up the pillow and inhaled the boy's scent at his natural speed while the nurse soothed Missus Masen, then feigned an emergency that took him from the hospital. The streets of Chicago were virtually empty and the rare citizens who were out carried cloth over their faces. A few even carried small fabric pouches of herbs in hopes the clean scents would protect them like some ancient talisman, not unlike those carried during the Plague to mask the smells of rotting flesh.
The boy's scent, however, was unmistakable. Despite the raging fever and illness that had weakened his body, his honeyed evergreen was distinguishable on the breeze. Carlisle noticed that in many places along the old masonry, Edward's scent was stronger, a few specks of blood and mucus on the ground near those. "Edward must have stopped here while coughing," Carlisle mused to himself. His vampire eyes detected the shimmering heat mirage on the pavement; summer was staying late in Chicago.
While Carlisle clung to the evening shadows setting in, his doctor's vestments pulled tightly around him, his hat cloaking his face and neck from the low-slanting rays of light, Edward Masen was going shop to shop, his sweat-soaked robe covering his pajamas. On his feet he wore his father's dress-shoes; footwear was not needed by the dead. In the pocket of his robe were the two dollars in coins Edward had had on him when he fell ill.
He had to buy his mother a gift, he simply had to. When Edward Senior had died, he knew his mother would soon pass as well. His love for his mother wasn't enough to hold her to this world. Her spirit had died with her husband's last breath. It was in caring for Edward Junior that she succumbed to the illness as well. Edward felt so much guilt for his mother's imminent death that he had to go out and get her one last gift. For all the years she'd cared for him while his father worked late; for all the days she'd give her "growing boy" that extra serving of mashed potatoes from her own plate; just for being his mother, Edward had to get her those slippers. She deserved to have something pretty in these last hours.
When the housekeeper helped Elizabeth to the hospital, she had taken the nice ones with her so they wouldn't be stolen in the hospital. Edward was determined to buy her something, if not of equivalent beauty, at least better than the ragged stockings his mother now wore. She may have been dying, but she was going to look like a proper lady. If, as he was fairly certain, tonight was her time to go to the Lord, than Edward would use his last bit of strength, to send her looking the best a woman afflicted by the Influenza could.
The Influenza, however, was claiming him more quickly than he'd anticipated, and Edward feared he would fail in finding the strength to return to the hospital with his small gift. Passing the windows of the shoe store with its fine Italian leather, Edward shook his head. His meager two dollars would not be enough there. The button shop where his mother bought her unmentionables was his only plausible destination. The woman who owned the shop did not often have shoes, but she did stock delicate house-shoes, slippers suitable for someone as lovely as Edward's mother.
Carlisle tracked the boy to the Millinery boutique and slipped in behind unnoticed, his mind blocking out the lace and other delicacies he had no wife to adorn with. The boy's long fingers offered up a pair of winter slippers to the store attendant, the price tag marked at a heavy discount due to the quilted silk's warmth being undesirable in the summer's heat. Now, with the epidemic spread down from the Great Lakes Naval Base, so many had fallen ill and few were out shopping for more than necessities these days.
The owner wore a mask to help bolster her body's defenses, but Carlisle could smell the taint to her blood, the viral sweetness that had started in the others a week before the illness truly set in. He would undoubtedly treat her as well.
"I'm sorry, Sir, that isn't enough." Her hand was pressed against her mask in disgust, either from the boy's waxen pallor and unwashed smell, or perhaps just the knowledge that she had Death within her store.
Carlisle watched on, studying the humans' responses to one another, not wanting to hinder the boy's errand, nor scare either off at his sudden intrusion to the social dance occurring before him. "Please, Ma'am, they're for my mother. She has been stricken with the illness going around. Please, I want her to have something nice. The nurses say she is failing. Mother is going to be with my father soon. She tended my father on his death bed, and she has been tending to me while I have been ill. Let me give her this gift since I cannot take care of her. Please, Ma'am. This money is all I have."
The woman did not have Carlisle's kind heart. She shook her head. "The price is already as little as I can afford to sell them, boy. I am sorry."
Edward's heart shattered at his feet, tears spilling down over the shoes he now clutched to his robe. "Please. She needs them." He considered running, well, stumbling, away with them, but Edward knew he would never make it back to the hospital if he did so. His lungs were filling with fluid, and each breath came out raspy and heavy. Edward knew would not make it through the night, and was ready to embrace the peaceful oblivion beyond. There was much he had wanted to do with his life, but he had been a good boy, gone to church with his parents, and the hereafter did not frighten him. He only prayed that death, when it came, would be swift, and take him after his mother. She did not need to see her only son pass on. They would be reunited in mere hours; let those before his death be peaceful.
Had he tears to shed, Carlisle would have cried for the sight. His silent heart wept for what he could not outwardly show. "How much does the boy need?" Carlisle asked while already reaching into his pocket. Given an answer, he handed over the requisite funds, and then slipped an arm around Edward's shoulders. "We need to get you back to hospital, Mister Masen. Let me help you."
Even through the layers of clothing both wore, Edward could feel the radiating chill in Carlisle's touch and leaned into it. With each step, Carlisle took more and more of his patient's weight, until Edward was merely making the motions of walking while being carried. Despite the sweat and sickness, Carlisle's body thrummed from the young man's scent. His throat burned with the desire to drink and other carnal urges showed interest for the first time in many years.
Edward bristled at being carried; his pride did not allow him to show such weakness, even as his body continued its slow descent into death. His savior, the man who had bought Mother's shoes, radiated a pleasant chill. Each squeeze of Edward's body was a healing balm to the fever that had burned for days. "I..." Words were becoming harder with each step. "Thank you," he whispered as fatigue and weakness forced him to sleep.
His charge now an unconscious dead weight, Carlisle lifted him up against his chest, carrying him as if he were carrying a small child. "You'll be fine, Edward. I swear it." Having seen the boy's spirit, Carlisle refused to let him die. He had been searching for a perfect companion, and he had found no one who made his heart come to life as Edward Masen did. You'll be a Cullen soon, Carlisle silently apologized. As if Edward had heard the soundless declaration, his whole body curled into Carlisle, a sense of weary acceptance sensible within the movement.
Clinging to back alleys and side streets, Carlisle dodged from building to building at his full speed, traversing the fourteen city blocks Edward had stumbled along. Cleansers, bodily waste, and blood suffused his senses, and Carlisle slowed to a human's pace as he emerged from the shadows. Walking into the hospital, a nurse gave him a questioning look, but Carlisle shook his head sadly. "The Masen child; I followed him." Looking down, he saw the slippers were still locking within a vice-like grip. "Is Elizabeth...?" Carlisle trailed off, knowing the boy might still be coherent even if exhaustion forced his eyes closed.
"She's asking for him, for you as well, Doctor."
At the nurse's words, Carlisle jogged through the halls and took the stairwell, waxed tiles shining in the dim lights hanging in converted sconces. An electric hum made a warm backdrop to the whimpers, tears, and groans echoing to his ears alone behind the closed doors leading off the stairwell. Edward's heartbeat was a loud bass drum, ringing on each step of Carlisle's feet on the stairs, speeding as if to fit in a lifetime's worth of beats into this last evening it had.
"M-Moth-Mother." Edward began to come around a bit, facial muscles twitching feebly as he tried to open his eyes. Carlisle tightened his grip on the young man and tucked the still-clammy head beneath his chin, letting the boys scent fill his senses until he could taste Edward's sweat with each breath.
"We're almost there, Edward. Just a few more seconds." Carlisle opened the door to the proper floor and slipped down the hall, avoiding the beds of patients who had taken up residence in the hall with all the inpatient rooms full.
Knowing they were so close, Edward roused himself from the half-slumber he'd fallen into and forced his eyes open. "Thank you, Doctor. For everything," he added after feeling Carlisle swallow heavily.
"Do not thank me yet, Mister Masen."
Edward did not understand the emotion behind the words but succumbed to the fever, letting Carlisle walk the twists and turns of the hospital in a silent bubble. While the patients in chairs and cots reached out to nurses and doctors, they shunned the duo. Edward saw no reason to turn away from the man who had helped him. He was beautiful and bore an internal radiance unlike any he had seen before- a divine glow that gave an opalescent sheen in the fading twilight.
Carlisle gave the boy a soft smile as he settled him onto the clean bedding and moved to check on the mother. Her lungs had filled with fluid, and her heart was sluggish. Time was running out. "Missus Masen, your son is back. He had gone out to run some errands but he's back now. Edward..." Carlisle trailed off as the thought about what to say.
The dying woman turned weakly to gaze upon her son, her last words for Carlisle's ears alone. "You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward."
"Everything, Ma'am. I swear to you. First though, he has something for you." Raising his voice from his whisper, he motioned the seventeen year old to come forward. "Edward, give your mother her present." Carlisle helped Edward slip the shoes onto his mother's feet, the silken pillowed fabric giving a bit of comfort to the ailing woman.
"They're beautiful," she said between coughs. "Thank you, my son." Her fingers lifted and fell, too weak to stroke his cheek.
"Here." Carlisle cradled her hand within his and lifted it to Edward's cheek. "Is this what you needed, Elizabeth?"
A smile graced her face, bringing with it a small glimpse at the beauty she'd had before this epidemic reached their city. "I love you, Edward," she whispered to her son as he smiled into the palm Carlisle held against his cheek.
"I love you, too, Mother. I'm going to get better and take you home, okay?" His tears shimmered unshed.
The doctor shivered as he felt the woman's body loosen its hold on her soul. "Remember," she breathed out soundlessly, her heart sputtering to a stop.
I will always remember, he vowed.
"Mother." Edward's sobs shook his body in between coughs now flecked with blood. He'd lost the light in his world and didn't care if he died or not at this point. He was an orphan, alone in the world. All his father's money meant nothing if he lacked his family.
Carlisle watched, his chest feeling hollow, as the boy cried. I wish there was something I could do for him. Wanting to offer some comfort, Carlisle's hand hovered over Edward's shoulder, trying to feel something besides an incredible thirst and the need for love like he'd seen in Edward's eyes. Let me help you, let me be selfish this one time, and take you for my own. In three days, neither of us will be alone.
The boy twitched away from Carlisle as he reached over to him, and roughly wiped at his tears. He didn't need the doctor's pity. "You don't owe me anything, Doctor. I shall get well, or..." Edward shrugged instead of talking and then took a weary step back to his bed and lay down. "Either way, I'm not your concern. Thank you for helping me with my mother."
Carlisle sought the nurse to care for Elizabeth's body, and he kept as close a watch on Edward as he dared in the next hours of his night shift, worried someone would notice his growing obsession. He needed this young man to be his. It was a compulsion almost as strong as that for blood.
It was nearing three AM and the nurse on the floor was weary of sitting with Edward, who was in his last hours. The walk through the city had tired his body beyond its capabilities. His eyes no longer had the ability to focus, but he knew the doctor was sitting beside him and had dismissed the nurse who had been wiping his face with cool water for the past hours.
"It's time, Edward," the smooth voice said at last. The man didn't wait for Edward to respond, yet he had no fear of what the man's words held. He knew Death had come for him, had felt his body's aches grow steadily worse as night crept over the hospital. What he was not ready for, however, was when the doctor lifted him as he had before. Too weak to form words, Edward just nodded and let the darkness fill him. The fever must have addled his brain, for Edward would have thought he smelled the Lake and the city's less-than-fresh air which were still a welcome scent in contrast to that of the hospital. Each time he tried to open his eyes or ask where they were going, Carlisle just shushed him. He knew the man meant him no harm, even if he didn't hear such direct words; it was as if the meaning was constantly input directly to his brain.
A door opened and closed, and Edward heard water running for several long minutes before Carlisle climbed into a bath tub, still clothed, with him. Too weak to fight him, Edward let the cool fingers unbutton the closures down the front of his pajamas and soon felt the soggy cotton pants just fall off him with a slight tug. "You're safe now, Edward." The voice was heavy with grief that Edward did not understand.
Smooth, cool lips brushed against his neck, confusing him even as his body became aroused to the sensation. Outside of a stolen kiss with a girl at one of his parents' charity events, Edward had no experience in these matters. His body heated even warmer than the water as the lips parted and a tongue slid across his neck, making him arch against the solid chest behind him. Even so ill he was probably dying, Edward felt sparks racing through his bloodstream. It was so sordid, so wicked, so wrong, and so...right. If he gave in to these feelings, he would die a sinner, but God help him, Edward wanted more of these hungry kisses.
"Please," he managed to beg as the lips tugged along his ear.
"Just one more kiss and then you'll be mine." Had Carlisle not known better, he'd have thought his heart had beat just once with the finality of his choice. Turning Edward so that they were looking at one another, Carlisle allowed their lips to brush gently once. "Mine, Edward. Please forgive me." Feeling Edward's arousal pressing against his own, Carlisle pressed their bodies together, sealing the burning flesh against his and then licked the tender flesh of Edward's neck. Forgive me, God, for this bit of evil I am about to do, Carlisle prayed. The skin and muscle gave way easily beneath his bite, and the boy was too weak to fight him.
He'd seen this damnable act done countless times by the Volturi, but to do it himself tarnished a portion of his soul. Holding Edward as he screamed was the worst type of Purgatory Carlisle could have imagined.
Days later, Carlisle was proved wrong as he held a still screaming Edward, who was curled up in a ball, holding his head. "Make them stop. Too much!" No matter what Carlisle did, he couldn't stop the voices caterwauling inside Edward's head. He'd changed a mind-reader.
End Flashback
Edward looked in disbelief. "I didn't remember all of that." The two sat in silence, as much as Edward's mind could ever have silence, for several hours while Edward assimilated everything he'd been told in Carlisle's memories. "Thank you for this gift. My memories of her are hazy at best." His lips curved upward into a bright smile as he focused on his mother's fading beauty. "She loved the slippers; thank you for those as well. I suppose I owe you my unending gratitude for uprooting your life to bring me to the far north reaches of Canada to work on controlling my gift."
Edward's enhanced sight absorbed the numerous blond tones of Carlisle's hair that shimmered in the starlight. Had he been human, Edward would have worried about flushing with his restrained desire for Carlisle. He'd had flashes of memory of those last moments, when Carlisle had kissed him, but thought them feverish dreams, not true events. Now on their way to the town that united them, Edward found himself fighting a multitude of carnal needs. He wanted blood, human blood, but was glad to keep to his maker's alternative lifestyle. The thoughts pressing on him were weakening his resolve, and he found himself clinging to Carlisle more and more.
"How are the voices, Edward?" When Carlisle whispered like this, the softened consonants of his homeland were a heavy warmth on Edward's neck. He could feel the twist of each letter, the puffs of breath that formed them.
"Not as bad here as they will be in the city, I fear. The seventy-nine other occupants are mostly sleeping due to the late hour. Mister Christensen, the gentleman with the gaudy ruby ring in car four, is thinking of the mistress he left behind in New York on his way home to his family in Springfield, and is stopping in Chicago on 'business' to explain the delay. There are two officers in a sleeping car next to ours. One is sleeping peacefully, the other dreams of a future where they can be public with their fondness for one another. They've been to some remote city to spend their leave together before being shipped out across seas once more."
Edward took a moment to really consider his thoughts on what it meant to like another man. Outside of what the Church had impressed upon him, he had no convictions either way. Edward had fallen in and out of adoration with a few girls throughout his years in school, but his feelings for his maker were far different. He was in love with Carlisle, and not just a sense of devotion for having saved him a year prior. Carlisle was strong, compassionate, loving, intelligent, wise, and so incredibly beautiful.
It was this collection of memories, however, that made Edward's love for Carlisle irresistible any longer. To watch Carlisle look after Edward and Elizabeth with such care moved Edward's heart to a depth of love that would have made him weep as a human. The resurging lust he had in response to Carlisle complete Edward's own memories of those last few moments before the change began was throbbing uncomfortably between his legs. No matter how Edward shifted position, he could not find a way that allowed more room in his trousers for the erection pressing against the zipper.
Noticing the plight of his companion, Carlisle cleared his throat. "I can leave for the dinner car. I'm certain the barman would be glad for some company as I pretend to sip on a gin and tonic. There is a bottle of scented oil in my luggage. It makes certain personal attentions easier." It was the last thing he wanted to do, to leave Edward behind for even a few minutes, but Carlisle's own arousal was becoming more insistent knowing that Edward was in the same condition.
Despite Carlisle's best attempts at burying his thoughts, Edward read enough glimpses to know of Carlisle's state of mind and body. "Carlisle," he started and then balled his hands up in frustration. "Carlisle, I... I don't." A slender fist pounded down onto the dark green cushion. "I don't want to be alone." The words were rushed, and the moment the last sound came forth, his teeth clamped down so hard on his lip that Edward tasted venom.
Does he mean? Carlisle's thoughts were in a thousand places at once, and even Edward couldn't keep up. /iEdward, what do you mean? You and me?/i The image of Edward and Carlisle embraced in the bathing tub played through the elder's mind again as his flesh surged at the recalled stolen kisses.
"I want everything. I was seventeen, and I certainly have the urges of a young man at that age. I want you, Carlisle. I haven't a care what others might think, or what the Church says. We're an abomination in their sights for what we are, adding another sin of whom we love cannot harm our souls. I love you and I want you; no, I need you, Carlisle."
Using his full speed, Carlisle wasted no time in covering Edward's body with his own. The lithe lines of the eighteen year old beneath him had Carlisle's body aflame with a fully reciprocated lust. A hungry kiss had both of them panting. Teeth smashed, lips drew at one another, tongues stroked first tentatively and then with increasing passion. Neither had ever felt such a desire before.
Then, Edward moved, just a little. The shifting of his legs allowed Carlisle to slip his thigh between Edward's, and Edward did the same, bringing their sensitive flesh together in a rush. "Too much clothing," Carlisle said, unsure if it was aloud or a silent request for skin to meet uninterrupted.
"More in the suitcase?" Edward's mind was as present in his own sensations as he was in feeling what touches Carlisle liked the most. At Carlisle's affirmation, Edward scratched his nails down the blonde's back, raking the flesh as he shredded the clothing.
Even with their speed, they could not denude fast enough. Teasing kisses and laughter became impatient groans as fingers brushed along hardened cocks and ghosted over small nipples drawing up into tight peaks at the touch. Only when their underclothes remained, delicate cotton that hid nothing yet incited the imagination to heights previously unknown, did they stop and come back together.
"Oh, God!" Carlisle could not hold back his cry as Edward nipped along the column of his neck, laved the Adam's apple that bobbed with each swallow and groan, and then those rosy lips moved to Carlisle's nipples. Edward smiled against the alabaster flesh, his golden eyes on Carlisle's as he suckled the tiny point, his fingers pawing at the other in lust-driven need. There was so much Edward needed to learn in this act, but for now, mutual desire would lead them.
Moving further, Edward forced his lover down to the floor and straddled the strong thighs, pushing their erections against one another in short thrusts as their bodies pressed together from hip to lips. Another lingering kiss had both on edge, worried they'd spill within their thin confines without a direct touch. Edward's lips pressed a thousand kisses across each swath of perfectly toned muscle, his tongue tasting the sweet musk that was Carlisle.
Edward went lower, seeking the ridge that was now pressed into his stomach. Having seen the act in the minds of others, his lips parted over the fabric, placing an open-mouthed kiss along the pulsing skin. A thousand pleasured exclamations were screamed in Carlisle's mind while his hips bucked upwards, giving friction between the two of them. Edward's smile was visible, even around the fabric-wrapped bough.
Back up here. I need you back up here. Carlisle pleaded with Edward, his heated desire at war with the love he felt, and the need to treasure the gift he had been given in Edward's love. Sliding his hands down Edward's back, Carlisle's fingertips danced on the lean muscles before tugging beneath his arms, pulling Edward up onto his chest once more. "I need to..." he trailed off to allow his actions to speak louder than his words. Edward's soft lips now tasted of Carlisle's own scent, a heady mix of the two of them, and his arousal neared levels previously never encountered. The slick tongue coaxed a groan from Carlisle, Edward's hands now going beneath his head and shoulders, pulling Carlisle to him.
They kissed and thrust against one another, aching need rubbing against one another as lips tugged and brushed. Their groans were swallowed down as they panted into each other's mouths, too addicted to the taste and feel of one another to part for more than a rushed breath. Soon, too soon for either of them, the rhythmic meeting of their hips became grinding as aching tingles built in both.
"What's that?" Edward tried to ask about the sensation, having not felt it as a vampire before. The crystalline ache was as sharp as it was a deep ache, and it twisted in his lower abdomen as if a million butterflies were pounding their wings with each twitch of his pelvis.
Let it happen, Edward. It's beautiful. Turning them over so that he was on top, Carlisle lifted himself up on one arm, the other palming the back of Edward's head. He maximized each thrust of his erection against Edward's, their underwear now tearing at the seams from each frenzied motion. Carlisle watched Edward's face tighten and then go slack, the young vampire's body stiffening within his arms as pulse after pulse of wetness soaked the fabric between them, and Edward released a glorious cry that started on an angelic high note and slowly descended into a low, gravelly, growl that made both bodies vibrate.
Giving into his own need, Carlisle rutted against the now lax body beneath him. He felt some mild embarrassment at Edward reading his thoughts, but gave himself over to the moment. I love you, Edward. Amorous litanies were interrupted with obscene declarations.
Edward lay on the rough carpet, entirely spent. He watched Carlisle's undulations, his own flesh overly sensitized from having reached his climax, but too exhausted emotionally to respond. The only need he felt now, beside seeing Carlisle obtain the same peak, was to somehow show Carlisle that he belonged to him. The instinctual need to claim a mate seared his veins with each thrust of his lover, so he waited.
Oh, God. Edward, I love you. I... damn. So good. I never thought. I love this man so much. There, right there. Edward was fully enraptured with each overwhelmed thought. So glad I made you. Mine.
Knowing by Carlisle's thoughts that he was close, Edward trailed a line of kisses to his maker's ear and whispered, "And you're mine, too, Carlisle." Licking a line down the corded muscle, Edward found the faint scar from Carlisle's sire. "Mine," he echoed once more before biting down.
Carlisle roared, in both pleasure and pain, and then dropped his weight down fully, each muscle almost imperceptibly twitching against Edward. The proof of his desire spread out in a puddle between their bodies where it made lewd sounds with each gasping breath he made. Edward released the bite on a groan, his head dropping back to the ground, lips shiny with the venom he'd coaxed from Carlisle's veins.
It was several minutes later, as the train slowed its speed on the approach to Chicago, that Carlisle finally spoke. "How are you, Edward." He watched as Edward took a full account of his body and then smiled.
"I'm fine, Carlisle. The human's thoughts came rushing over me after. I think I shall need you to distract me from them when we're in the city." A shy smile graced Edward's face, and Carlisle mentally painted a blush upon his cheeks.
However will I do that, Edward? Carlisle sat up and rubbed the already healing spot on his neck that still burned from Edward's marking. Any vampire would see that scar now.
"You've seen much, Carlisle; be creative. Maybe we should find a bathtub like the one you had in your home." Edward leaned over to kiss his lover one more time before they dressed and fixed their hair, ready to rejoin the human world.