Okay, so I know Rainbows is only just getting started, but I think it was something like a flood gate. Once I started this, I couldn't stop.
So, this is the first prequel-y outtake, and it's in Carlisle's point-of-view. This takes place about sixteen years before the beginning of Rainbows, but I'm hoping to give a little more insight to my characters, and the choices that led them to where they are in the main story.
I'm probably going to have quite a few of these, but updating will be up to you. Don't worry. These won't interfere with the main story.
Also, think back all the way to chapter three of Rainbows when Carlisle and Garrett were talking about Charlie? Yeah.
Here we go!
Hurricane Season
It's five-thirty, and I keep looking at the clock of my father's Mercedes e320 to make sure I'm not early. I knew he would be here, but I wasn't expecting the rest of the soccer team to be with him. Even the coach is here. I didn't know this was supposed to be a full-on practice, but I can't leave. I've been watching him the last couple of months — knowing what I am and what he is, and I'm not dicking out now.
The coach whistles them all out of the last scrimmage, and he moves away from the pack to get a cup of water. This is my chance.
I get out of the car and shut the door without thinking of what I'll do when he sees me. I'm only seventeen. He probably hasn't noticed how I've been keeping tabs on him. He probably doesn't know that I've memorized his schedule so I can see him even though he's a senior and I'm not.
He's standing by the water cooler alone. I keep an eye on the other players knowing I should feel mortified about what I'm doing and the fact that I'll have an audience in the process.
"Cullen, what are you doing here?"
His deep, gruff voice breaks me from my contemplation. I can't turn and run. It's now or never.
He's looking at me from the other side of the fence, his brown hair whipping in the gusting winds. My own blond hair is following the gale-force as well, and all I can think about is touching his hair.
Absently, I'm aware of the fact that we're all under a hurricane watch. It's normal weather for South Carolina.
My mouth is dry, and I'm having trouble forming the words I've been practicing for days.
"Fuck, kid, would you come on already?"
Reality slaps me in the face, and I chance a look over his body. His practice shorts are, well, short, and I can see the bulge curving in his crotch. The shirt he's wearing only brings attention to the broad span of his chest. I look at him, and he smirks, waiting.
"I just wanted to ask you something," I say cryptically.
His dark brown, thick eyebrows furrow with amusement. "Really?"
I nod.
"What's your name again? Carl? Cal?"
"Carlisle. I have AP English the same time you do."
He nods. "Ah. Right. Well, listen, Carlisle, try-outs were in June before the start of the school year. Better luck next year."
He turns away to go back to the rest of the team.
"I'm not here about try-outs," I yell. "I came to talk to you."
He stops and looks at me — really looks. I can see I've gotten his attention, but before he can say anything, the coach interrupts.
"Swan! Get back over here. You're mine for another hour."
At the mention of his last name, I'm reminded of the first time I heard it in the English class we share. He's not a dumb jock like a lot of the other guys on the team. He can actually recite Shakespeare, and he knows the difference between sentence fragments and run-on sentences. He's a lot smarter than most people think.
With a glare in his dark brown eyes, he shoots me down from the unasked question in my own blue eyes.
"Don't come back around here," he warns. "Go on. Get out of here."
I don't hesitate, leaving before any of the tears in my eyes have a chance to fall. My father's car never looked like a haven more than it does now.
I feel so stupid. Of course he would shut me down. He's the captain of the soccer team for God's sake. I'm just a nobody.
I drive home in tears. I'm a friggin' baby, okay? I feel like my cat just died. I don't even know enough profanity to yell it to the wind for making me feel like a loser.
My sister Rosalie is sitting on the porch of our three-story plantation house when I pull into the drive. She's twelve, and her blond hair is still in pigtails. She looks a lot like me, but that's where most of the similarities end.
"Dad needs you to board up all the windows," she says as soon as I get out of the car.
She's holding a orange striped kitten in her lap, idly stroking his fur. As usual, she doesn't have a care in the world.
"Where's Jasper?" I ask of our brother, her twin.
She shrugs. "I don't know."
I huff as I pass her. "Fine."
The door is open before she speaks again. "Hey, are you okay?"
No. "Yeah."
"You look like you've been crying."
I know she's not teasing me the way Jasper would. Despite him being younger than me, he acts like a macho jerk. And he never wastes an opportunity to rub it in my face that I cry — a lot. But Rosalie is different.
Even though we're different, I know Rosalie is genuinely curious about my behavior.
"It was that guy wasn't it?" she asks. "What's his name again?"
"Charlie," I answer.
"I'll beat him up if you want," she offers with a small smile.
She nudges my arm, and I'm smiling again.
"It's okay," I say.
"He doesn't know what he's missing," she assures me.
I wrap my arm around her. "Thanks."
She shuffles away from me. "Ew. Boys have cooties!"
She shoots off toward the house and hurries inside. I laugh and follow her to find my father.
The rest of the afternoon is quiet as my father and I carry plywood around the house to board up the windows. The hurricane watch is upgraded to a warning over the radio, and we're stocking the basement with as many gallons of water and non-perishable foods as I can find.
I'm gathering blankets and collecting pillows when my father calls me from the front of the house. Jasper and Rosalie are nowhere in sight, and I pause for a minute before moving out of the basement to find my father.
Shock hits me in the face when I see my father standing there talking to Charlie. I don't know what to do even after they both looked at me.
I'm confused, and I can't move from the spot where I've stopped.
"Carlisle," my father calls, and I look at him. "You have a visitor. Come down here."
I step slowly down to where they're standing.
What am I supposed to do?
My father doesn't say anything as he leaves me alone with Charlie. For nearly a minute afterward, the only sound is the gusting wind and crashing waves in the distance. Our house is actually on the beach, but it's survived more storms than my father can admit. We're all hopeful it will survive the coming storm with as much as possible so we won't have to rebuild any of it.
He opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.
"What are you doing here?" I ask — more like plea.
He lifts his hands to his waist, and I notice he's wearing jogging pants instead of his practice shorts. I look at him full-on, seeing his hair wet.
"You really thought I was gonna do this on the field with the whole team watching?" he shot back.
Blood rushes to my face, and I know I'm blushing. He steps closer to me, and though I want to back away from him, I can't.
"You got guts, Cullen. I'll give you that much. You a sophomore or a junior?"
"A junior," I reply. I can barely raise my voice above a whisper.
"How did you know?"
His words are cryptic, but I know what he's asking me. I shrug, and he steps closer.
"I don't know," I say. "It wasn't easy. After you broke up with Rene and she started telling people — "
"I know what she said, Cullen. She's a lying bitch. That's all I want to say about that."
I swallow and start again. "I started watching you. You didn't start dating another girl, like a lot of the other guys on the team would. You actually listen in English class, and Mr. Berty always calls on you when he's asking about our assignments. I just knew."
"So you thought you'd try to prove your theory at the field in front of the coach?" His question sounds accusing, but I look up and see a smile on his face.
"Sorry about that. I just didn't know where else to find you. I — "
"It's okay, Cullen." He pauses, looks around and steps closer to me. "Carlisle. Man, that is a weird name. Anybody call you anything else?"
Astonished at how him saying my name makes my knees weak, I purse my lips. "My little sister calls me Carlie. But only when it's just the two of us."
"You're close to her?"
I nod.
"I don't have any siblings."
Again, I nod. "I know."
The gusting wind is stronger now as we're standing just outside earshot of my house, and a huge storm is rumbling off the coast threatening to bear down on us. But the air feels electric, and I can feel a current running between me and Charlie.
"I should go," he says. "My dad's probably getting our house ready too. But, um, I don't have practice on Mondays and Wednesdays. And then we're in off-season after the 31st. If you want, there's a spot we can go."
Stunned, I can't do anything but wonder why he's offering me this. Technically, we did just meet, and I did nearly out him in front of the entire soccer team. But I can't deny that I want to be alone with him. "Do you want to?" I ask.
He smirks. "I wouldn't be suggestin' it if I didn't want to, Cullen. Seriously, haven't you done this before?"
Embarrassed, I shake my head. "No."
I can tell he's surprised, and he looks around again before slowly reaching for my hand that's out of the view of my house.
"I want to," he assures me. "Like I said, you got guts. But only a couple of people know I'm, well, playing for my own team. So I want to keep it that way at least until I graduate. Have you ever been with a girl?"
"What, like, sex?"
He nods.
"No," I admit. "I mean, I kissed a girl when I was fifteen, but it didn't really . . . I didn't really like it."
He steps an inch or two closer. "And a guy?"
I have to be honest with him. "Only in my dreams. And lately . . . all I dream about is you."
Amusement causes a smile to spread across his face. "Do you want to satisfy your curiosity before we get to the heavy stuff?"
Chills wrack my body at the realization of what he's saying, and I'm paralyzed as I stand there in front of my house.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, charging the air with desire and surrender. I know the storm isn't that far away since we've been under watches and warnings the last few days in anticipation. Most people who aren't from around here have all left. But us locals are used to this, and it's business as usual for us. Local restaurants and stores all have sand bags ready for the flooding, and with it being a Tuesday, there have only been a few absences from school. The teachers are used to it.
"How will we do that?" I ask, feeling like an idiot despite knowing a little about what he's saying.
Even with the storm coming, he's relaxed, like we have plenty of time. He looks around again, tipping his head toward the house and then the dark beach beyond it. We're about to move away from the porch when my father comes out the front door.
"Both of you get inside," he commands. "There's a storm coming."
His warning sounds immediate, and despite it not evening raining yet, I know he's been through quite a few of these. I glance at Charlie, and even though he was getting ready to leave, he shrugs and follows me to the porch.
"You can call your father inside," my father says to Charlie. "Elise is in the kitchen making dinner."
He nudges us both inside, closing the front door and putting the deadbolts on.
My mother is making lobster tails and crab cakes like we're not getting ready for a tropical storm, and when I step into the kitchen with Charlie, she looks up and smiles.
"Oh, I didn't know you were having company, sweetie," she laughs.
I blush again, glancing at Charlie. "This is my mom," I say to him. "Mom, this is Charlie Swan. He's, um, a friend from school."
She steps away from her preparation area at the side of the sink, wiping her hands on her red paisley apron and then extending her hand to his. "Elise Cullen. It's a pleasure to meet you. I hope you're hungry."
He smiles big. "Starving."
"Mom," I interrupt, "Charlie needs to call home. I guess it's too bad out there, and Dad told him to stay here."
"Oh, of course. Phone's just over there," she points.
The lights flicker then, indicating the power fluctuating in the strong winds, and I gesture to the corded phone hanging on the wall.
He doesn't say anything to me, moving to the phone and dialing quietly. He talks to his father, who's the Chief of Police in town, saying he's stuck on the beach at my house and should be fine riding out the storm here. There's no argument from his father, and he hangs up after a few minutes.
"All set."
My mother smiles. "Wonderful."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" he offers, glancing at me and clearly not interested in helping my mother with dinner.
She waves him off. "Oh, don't be silly. I've got everything under control. Dinner should be in probably another half-hour or so. Carlisle, darling, why don't you show him around? He might be here for a little while."
My nerves are on edge standing in the kitchen with my mother and the boy I just tried to ask out on a date. Charlie smiles, and I back out of the kitchen with him.
"So," he says, "show me around. Start with your room."
My eyes widen, but I can't refuse him, moving to the stairs and then leading the way to the second floor where my room is. Rosalie's door is closed, and I wonder if she's in there. Jasper's door is standing wide open, and I can hear him playing a video game. My room is across the hall from his, and I have to slip inside the open door as carefully as I can without him noticing.
Charlie follows and shuts my door, looking around the expanse of my room. A few years ago, we remodeled the house, removing the wall between my room and the guest room so it could all be mine. I have as much furniture in my room as my parents do in theirs, and we even attached my room to the bathroom on the other side of the guest room.
"This all yours?" he asks, observing my bed, the chairs and couch across from it and the doors that lead to the deck outside.
"Yeah," I respond sheepishly. "We remodeled a few years ago. We hardly ever had guests, and I was fourteen. I think I begged my dad all winter for him to make my room bigger, and he got a bonus at work, so we spent all summer that year knocking down a wall and redoing the floors. It was the biggest project we ever did together, and I — "
"Oh, shit, do you really think I care about all that?"
I bite my tongue and shut up.
He paces around, looking at my stereo system and picking up a cd sitting on the table next to it. "The Rolling Stones, huh?"
I can't say anything back, watching him go through the rest of the cd's on the table next to my stereo. Then he moves to the book shelves against the far wall of my room across from my bed.
"Fuck, you read a lot, don't you?"
"My dad has a restoration business in town too. He brings me all the books he can't restore, says they're probably worth a lot of money in case I have to pay my own way through college."
He nods and fingers a copy of Treasure Island without picking it up. "That all he does?"
I shake my head, feeling the pull toward him getting stronger as I move closer to him. "No. He does all kinds of things. He inherited his father's estate when I was five, and he used it to help the town. He also has a lot of places where he puts his money, and it makes more money for him to — "
"You ramble a lot, don't you?"
I gulp. "Only when I'm nervous."
He grins and moves closer to me. "You're nervous."
I glance down the front of his body. He's wearing a different shirt from the one he was wearing in practice, and I can still see the bulge of his crotch. Without speaking, I nod.
He's less than a foot away. I can feel his body heat encroaching on my own personal space, and even though I would usually like to keep my own space uninhabited, I want him closer.
"Aside from that girl you kissed when you were fifteen," he says in a low, deep voice, "you ever kissed anybody else?"
I shake my head.
It's a little embarrassing to admit, but I'm not very experienced in things like this. My mother is an absolutely horrible person to talk to about stuff like this, and not just because she's a girl. She's on the PTA board at school, and if I asked her what I'm supposed to do because I think I had a crush on my science lab partner who's a boy, I think she might have a nervous breakdown. Even at seventeen, I know she wants grandkids, and it's partially my job to give them to her. We joke, and I tell her to keep her eyes on Rose, but really, I'm her oldest.
I don't want her to feel like she's failed with me where that stuff is concerned.
Only five or six inches separate me and Charlie now, and we're almost the same height. He lowers his eyes, and I know he's scoping out my body. I'm not ashamed to say that I spend time working out at the gym in town. My dad half-owns it, so even though I'm under eighteen, the guy who runs it still lets me use the equipment upstairs. I'm not going out for any triathlons any time soon, but I swim four times a week. And there's a bike with my name on it in the basement I ride a few times a week.
Charlie lays his hand over my arm, and I shiver slightly. He seems to like that and smiles. Then he touches my chin and lifts my head so he can see my face.
"You're kinda hot," he says softly.
My knees get weak again, and I can feel his warm breath on my face.
"Too bad for all those girls, I guess."
The tip of his nose touches mine, and then his upper lips brushes along mine. I don't know what to do with my hands, but something in my brain clicks on, and before I know it, I'm backing away from him.
"Wait," I whisper.
His thick eyebrows furrow with confusion. "What's wrong?"
"I've never done this before," I reiterate. "You obviously have. I'm not some toy you can play with and then throw away. And if you don't want anyone to know this about you, then I would probably end up getting disowned if my own parents found out."
He chuckles, and I'm suddenly mad.
"This is not a joke to me," I shout.
He holds up his hands in retreat. "Okay. All right. Jesus. It's not a summit for World Peace. Don't you want me to kiss you?"
I exhale, clenching my hands into fists over and over. "Yes, I do. But I'm not stupid. And if you think I'm gonna let you waltz in here and screw me over, you can get the hell out of here. I don't give a crap if there's a hurricane out there."
Still smiling, he steps closer to me with his hands still up in front of him. "Relax. I didn't mean to make you think anything serious was gonna happen. This is obviously your first rodeo, and that's cool. I can dig it. Just relax. I mean, your parents are downstairs, and I'm not stupid either. It's . . . It's just a kiss, Cullen."
Again, I can feel his breath on my mouth.
"Put your hands on my waist," he instructs.
All I know to do is follow his lead, lifting my hands to his waist. Instantly, I can feel the waistband of his jogging pants, and another detail becomes obvious as I discover that he isn't wearing any underwear. My heart is in my throat, pounding against my head and making me dizzy as he inches closer to me.
"You got guts, Cullen," he whispers, touching the tip of my nose with his again and laying his hands over the sides of my chest.
I'm sure he can feel my pulse racing, and my breathing is quickly following.
"I wouldn't play games with somebody with guts like yours."
His upper lip brushes mine, and then his tongue snakes out to touch my lower lip. Chills wrack my body again, and I can't think of anything but where my hands are and where his hands are. I can't think of where I'm standing or what I'm supposed to doing. I just want him to kiss me.
Other parts of my body are reacting to his closeness, and while blood is still rushing to my face, it's also pulsing through my chest and my stomach and my cock. No one's ever caused a reaction like this, and I'm quickly losing control of my senses.
He smells like soap, grass and leather, and these prove to be aphrodisiacs to my mind. Clouded, wonderful images fill my brain as he licks my lips and brushes his lips along them. No sound but that of my own breathing fills my ears, and he closes his lips around my upper lip with more simplicity than I think anyone's capable.
Gently, his tongue makes contact with mine, and I gasp for air more loudly than intended. There's no hesitation on his part as he lifts his hands to my face and holds me closer. My groin is pulsing hard now, and with my hands on his waist, I instinctively pull him closer until I can feel him against me.
We're moving too fast. I know it, but I can't stop him.
His tongue fights for domination over mine, but I can't give him anymore control than he already has. His lips are strong and warm and amazing. No one else's lips could ever feel like this. He's the first boy I've kissed, but still, I love the way his lips feel kissing mine.
Suddenly, he stops and lays his forehead against mine. "Damn, Cullen. I thought you said you never did this before."
I shake my head. "I haven't. But I'm a quick study."
He chuckles. "You don't say."
A knock on the door interrupts us, and my mother's voice follows.
"I hope you boys are ready for dinner. Come on down before the power goes out."
He leans back and looks at me.
I can't believe what I just did. I really just kissed a boy, and not just any boy. I just kissed Charlie Swan. He's a senior and the captain of the soccer team. His father's the Chief of Police, and his mother's the PTA president.
And I just kissed him.
The little grin on his face tells me it's okay, and I call out to my mother.
"We'll be right there."
I hear her laugh. "Okay, baby."
But for another minute, neither of us move.
"You gonna yell at me again?" he asks playfully.
I blush and grin myself. "Not right now."
He nods. "Good. Let's not overanalyze this, huh? When all this is over, there's a potential that I might want to see you again. So let's just go eat," he says as the lights flicker again.
The thought of facing my parents after this shuts down any hope of feeling like I might have to go to bathroom and take care of a little business. Charlie looks to be in more control of his body than me.
I lead the way to the door then, stepping into the hall as Rosalie and Jasper come out of their rooms. Jasper gapes at Charlie, and Rosalie slits her eyes suspiciously.
I don't say anything as I walk on downstairs with Charlie, but Jasper opens his mouth.
"You're Charlie Swan, aren't you?" he asks shaking his shaggy blond hair from his hazel eyes. "You're on the soccer team, right?"
"You got it, kid. What's your name?"
Confidence swells Jasper's chest until he looks like a blowfish. "I'm Jasper Cullen. I tried out for the seventh grade team last year. Coach made me center midfielder."
"Awesome."
"What are you doing here?"
Air catches in my throat as I walk. It takes all my self-control not to stop as I begin my descent down the stairs.
"Well, kid, I'm not going so good in English, and your bro here is gonna help me this year since I'll be graduating in seven months."
I glance back, impressed with Charlie's ability to improvise on the spot, but Jasper looks unconvinced. I'm good in English, but good enough to tutor someone? Even I know it's not that good of an idea.
But Charlie's a lot older than Jasper, and my little brother obviously looks up to him as a role model. How else would he know Charlie's on the soccer team?
Rosalie hurries around them to my side and grabs my hand. "I need to talk to you," she demands, pulling me out of their way. Charlie keeps walking, smiling at Rosalie and leading Jasper down the remainder of steps.
My sister doesn't say anything, pulling me back up the stairs to the second floor until we're alone.
"What's he doing here?" she hisses, attempting to keep her voice down.
"He showed up here half an hour ago," I shrug. "Why?"
"You came home crying because of him," she reminds me. "Must I always be your conscience. He's a jock! What makes you think he's not gonna use you and throw you away?"
"What do you know about any of this?" I gripe. "You're a kid. I can take care of myself."
"You're my brother," she growls softly, unwavering. "And it doesn't matter if he's a science geek or president of the 'I'm just a stupid loser' club. You have no idea what you're doing. I don't know a lot about boys, but neither do you."
I breathe deep standing there with my twelve-year-old sister as we have a conversation I should be having with my parents. "Rose, come on. I just met him. And I'm not stupid. I don't know what he's doing here, but there's a hurricane outside, and it's probably a good idea that he doesn't go out there. Right?"
She folds her arms over chest stubbornly, purses her lips and rolls her eyes. "Fine. But if I see him making moves on you, I'm giving him a piece of my mind. Nobody messes with my brother but me."
"I'm touched."
She huffs and grabs my arm. "Come on, you crazy idiot," she demands, pulling me back down the stairs.
Dinner is awkward to say the least, especially with both my mother and father on edge about the brewing storm blowing outside. So far, it's only raining, but the wind is howling and the lights keep flickering.
Rosalie practically drills Charlie, asking him covert questions about soccer and school and why he decided to come to our house in the midst of a hurricane warning. Despite not having any real experience with Rosalie, Charlie is amazingly adept at answering her questions without revealing anything crucial about our kiss to my parents or my brother.
"So you're a senior, and you take AP English, and you need a tutor," Rosalie clarifies. "Why take AP English if you need a tutor?"
Charlie grins over his crab cakes. "Well, I want to get into a good college. And my dad's the Chief of Police. I gotta make him look good. All those school marms love it when you have all the hard classes on your records."
Rosalie glances at me as I sit next to her. I only shrug.
"How many plays did Shakespeare write?" she demands.
He squints. "Thirty-eight."
"How many sonnets did he write?"
"One hundred fifty-four," he answers without hesitating.
"And what about — "
"Rose," my mother exclaims. "What is wrong with you?"
She shrugs. "What? I want to make sure my brother is doing a good job. Because if he doesn't then Charlie won't get into a good college."
My mother raises an eyebrow and purses her lips. "That's still no reason to interrogate him, young lady. Now eat your dinner."
Rosalie huffs loudly, hunching in her chair and picking up her fork. Half her lobster tail is gone, and she's already eaten one of her crab cakes.
Halfway through dinner, the power goes out, and without fail, my mother rises and begins lighting candles deposited around the room, including two candelabras on the dining table. Instantly, I'm staring at Charlie in the glowing yellow light, and something stirs in my groin. I think of giving Rose a bath when she was a baby and the last time our nana visited in an attempt to keep the stirring to a minimum — at least while I'm sitting at a dining table with my parents and siblings.
My father rises after several minutes and comes back with a battery-operated radio. Suddenly, an anchorman for the Weather Channel is giving us an up-to-date report on the storm, and with little else, dinner resumes like nothing happened.
Rosalie pleads with Jasper to help her clear the table, and he gives in when she promises not to whine about it. My mother sends me and Charlie upstairs to get more batteries and towels in case a window breaks even though most of the exterior windows are boarded up.
"Your sister's a pistol," Charlie says as we ascend the stairs. "That's for sure. You forgot the mention she was so protective. Does she know?"
I can't lie. "Yeah. Well, most of what a twelve-year-old can."
"And?"
I shrug. "She's cool with it, I guess. I swore her to secrecy, and to her, that's like signing in blood."
The storage closet at the end of the second floor hallway is a walk-in, and I have to use a flashlight to see what I'm doing. I find the batteries on a shelf close to the back, and I'm turning to leave when the door to the closet suddenly closes. I'm not alone as Charlie steps closer to me and takes the flashlight to lay it on a shelf nearby.
"Like I said, you're kinda hot, Cullen," he whispers, his voice husky and tantalizing.
The space is close, and in an instant, we're facing each other in the semi-darkness. My back touches the shelves behind me as he scoots closer, and the moment his hands go to my face, I grasp onto his waist, tilting my head back less than a second before his lips meet mine. He tastes different now — like cocktail sauce and Sprite. His tongue finds mine easily as I unconsciously grind our hips together. He's hard like I am, and I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm kissing Charlie in the storage closet in my parents' house in the middle of a tropical storm. And I'm liking it.
Slowly, he moves his lips over my jaw to my neck, licking my Adam's apple and then kind of sucking on my earlobe. I can't stop the soft groan that escapes my lips, and instantly, I'm clenching my teeth. If anyone finds us here, it won't be good, especially if it's Jasper. My idiot little brother wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut if he walked in on me making out with another guy.
Charlie's lips close in on mine again, but only for a second before he whispers. "What are you doing to me?"
I don't know what I'm supposed to say, so I opt not to respond.
"I mean, I don't even fucking know you. And you come to the field a few hours ago, trying to ask me out I guess, and now I'm standing in your closet wishing I could have my way with you. Do you realize what you're doing to me?"
Embarrassed, I shake my head.
He smiles and reaches behind me, shutting off the flashlight and throwing the space around us into darkness. I can't see anything as he leans forward and kisses me again, his tongue seeking mine as his hands make their way to my own waist. He's warm and hard and incredible, and I never want him to stop kissing me. The minute I feel his hand over the small of my back, the spot erupts in heat. It spreads as he rubs his fingers over my spine until he can slip his hand inside the back of my pants. I'm not wearing jogging pants like him, but I'm not wearing jeans either.
He unbuttons my pants easily, slipping his hand down the back so he can touch my ass. He's inside my underwear, rubbing my ass and pushing me against him. His cock is just as hard as mine, and rubbing against me is making him even harder. Instinctively, I push my body against him until we're moving in time so he can slide the tip of his finger over the crease between my ass cheeks.
His free hand dips inside the front of my pants slowly, and I'm overwhelmed to the point of pushing him away.
"Wait," I pant. "I can't . . . We shouldn't . . . Not here. Please."
He still kisses me, but his hands are on my face now. "I told you. All I want is to have my way with you, Cullen. But that's okay. We probably shouldn't be in here too long anyway."
I tuck my chin to my chest. "Right. Sorry."
He holds up his hands in surrender. "No apology necessary. I'm the one who closed the door."
I can't look at him. I'm too embarrassed.
He touches my chin and lifts my head. It's dark, but somehow, I can see him. He kisses me again, just once, and then a knock on the door breaks the spell.
"What's going on in there?" Rosalie demands through the door.
I exhale loudly, reaching behind my head for the flashlight and switching it on. He steps away, giving me barely enough space to zip and button my pants. After a few more seconds, he steps behind me, and I move to open the door.
Rosalie is standing there with her hands on her waist as she eyes both of us suspiciously. But much to my relief, she doesn't say anything about our apparent disappearance, glancing around us into the storage closet.
"We still need batteries," she informs me.
I'm blushing in the semi-darkness, but I don't know if she can tell or not. "Right," I say. "I'll get them."
She nods once and turns her gaze to Charlie. "Good. You come with me," she commands.
Sheepishly, I glance at him, seeing a curious smile on his face as he looks at me and then follows my sister away from the closet.
I have to curse myself for doing something so stupid, but I can't.
For whatever reason, this feels good. It feels right. And I don't care where I have to hide to do it again.
Rose and Charlie are going through the stuff already laid out in the dining room, and they both look up when I come off the bottom step with batteries and towels. She gives me this 'you should've known better' look, but Charlie just smiles.
I can't help but smile back.
The storm passes slowly, and everyone has to find things to do. The wind howls and rain pelts the roof ominously. I've been through quite a few of these, and with the windows boarded up, I have to read in the candlelight of the living room while my father and mother listen to the weather reports. Jasper complains about not having anything to do, and Rose is doing a crossword puzzle next to me. Charlie actually falls asleep in an arm chair across the living room, softly snoring after an hour or so.
Thunder and lightning become prominent after another hour, and I can't concentrate on my book. I leave the living room and step into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Rose follows me after a minute or two, getting her own glass and then turning to me as I lean against the counter.
"Okay, spill," she demands.
I furrow my eyebrows. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
She glances around and then steps closer, lowering her voice. "He kissed you, didn't he?"
"Shut up," I hiss.
She smiles. "He did. What was it like?"
"What was it like?" I repeat. "What do you know about it? Why aren't you freaked out over it? Doesn't it make you sick or something?"
With a shrug, she laughs. "Not really. I mean, he is kinda cute. And I can tell he kissed you. You were all flustered earlier, and you ramble when you're nervous. Just tell me what it was like."
I looked around to make sure we were alone. "It was weird at first. I've only ever kissed Katie, and she just wasn't that good at it. At least not to me. But he's . . . good. And he's kissed guys before."
She doesn't say much after that, still looking around and then putting her glass away. Then she turns and leaves the kitchen.
I get tired close to midnight, waking Charlie and then leading him upstairs where he'll be sleeping until the storm passes. Rose and Jasper are already in their beds, and my parents are blowing out all the candles. The wind is still howling, and the rain is still pelting, but the storm's been downgraded. We all know it's over even though the power's still out. My father's guessing a power line might've snapped, and he plans to call the electrician in town to come have a look in the morning.
"I don't think I've ever stayed the night at anyone's house who wasn't on a team I was playing for," Charlie says as we ascend the stairs to the second floor.
"Should I be flattered or scared?" I grin.
He shakes his head. "No, I just mean it's the first time I've done anything like this. Don't be scared. I promise not to jump your bones tonight."
I blush and then step into my room as it sets illuminated by a battery-operated lamp. I'm afraid to change out of the pants and shirt I'm wearing, and I lay on the bed without thinking about it. He doesn't follow me immediately, sitting in a chair on the other side of the room just as my mother pokes her head in the room.
"Okay, boys, we'll see you in the morning."
I nod. "Night, mom."
"Good night, Mrs. Cullen," Charlie smiles.
She smiles at him and then me before closing the door softly.
"You got a nice family," Charlie says after a few minutes. "Your mom and dad are cool. Jasper's a little high-maintenance, but Rosalie's kinda cute."
I look at him, and he holds up his hands.
"And I mean that in a completely platonic way. Probably like she could be my little sister too."
I smile, and he rises from the chair. Slowly, he makes his way to where I am, kneeling onto the bed as he pulls his shirt up over his head.
Suddenly, I'm looking at him glowing in the artificial light. His chest is smooth and toned a lot like mine, and the six-pack over his abdomen beckons my fingers to touch him. He smiles like he knows I'm thinking it, and he plants his hands on both sides of my head.
"Don't get any ideas, Cullen," he warns with a chuckle. "We both have school tomorrow, and even if I really would like to fool around, we should save it for later. Right?"
He leans down and kisses me with his eyes open. Even in the low light, his chocolate brown eyes kind of sparkle, and I feel something stir in my loins the way I did at dinner. Then he leans back and lays a finger over my lips. I understand what he's saying, and I have to scoot over so he has room to sleep.
He plops down on his bare chest, and I still can't move, watching him watch me.
I can't believe I'm doing this, but it feels good. I can't wait for the next step.
We're going to be revisiting both Carlisle and Edward's past, starting with Carlisle obviously because he's older.
I'm meaning to label these with the pairing they have, so this "set" will be Carlisle and Charlie. The next set will be a new pair. Sound kosher?
Want more? Let me know. You might get a preview.
Oh, and I have a new section on my profile where I've listed some new ideas. If it fancies you, head on over there and tell me which one of those looks promising.
Goodnight!