Etude

by sfiddy

Entry for the "Two Is Better Than One" contest. Set aside by his one love, Edward is forced to re-enter the world on new terms. Slash. By sfiddy with Bragi151

This is a work of fanfiction, and the author makes no monetary gain from it. I am not S. Meyer. She would probably never write this. I would.

This is my entry for the "Two Is Better Than One" contest, and it is my attempt at slash. This OS was inspired by comments from my partner in crime, Bragi151, during the editing process for another story. One thing led to another, and I felt compelled to give slash a try. After much back and forth, this is the result. This story would not exist without Bragi151's input and guidance. Blame him.

The embedded lines of poetry are from William Blake's Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience, and from The Litany of Mary, a Catholic prayer.

To see other entries in the "Two is Better Than One" contest, please visit the C2:
fanfiction DOT net/community/Two_is_Better_Than_One_Contest/86112/

Story Name: Etude
Pen name: sfiddy
Pairing: Edward/Jasper/Emmett
Disclaimer: I am not making any money on this.

.

Etude

.

By

sfiddy with Bragi151

---

Her lips were soft and molded to and around his as they always did. The heat, comfort, and companionship were sweet relief after the decades of loneliness. She wanted more - always more- than he trusted himself to give, though. She was fragility and seasonality defined. Sweetness would bloom for so brief a time on her cheeks before maturity would overtake and wipe the roses from her face.

Little Lamb, Little, Lamb

Who made thee?

Bella was needy, too, but for things that her natural, candle flicker of a life demanded. She should be loved, cherished, and cared for body and soul… and he was qualified to tend neither, having lost both his own to the shimmering Dorian Gray perfection that he was.

And builds in Heaven a Hell's despair.

In his century walking this earth, he'd never really examined himself. As flesh, he'd been too young to do such things. As a predator, he'd despaired and sunk into the pit only to rise and sink again. She had raised him up once more and had piqued feelings he'd believed were inactive. He felt fractioned, incomplete. Edward hated it.

And binding with briars my joys & desires

Perhaps she sparked a semblance of life in him, but it was a false flame. There was light, but no heat. The heat would have to be sown from someone else; a someone who could burn life into her womb and fill her with his children and watch them grow, then hold her wrinkled hand in his as they aged and shared their sunset years together. His own hands would never crease, and his flesh would never sculpt to hers.

To try would crush her to pulp and shards. To make her in his image would damn him further.

Edward examined his feelings as she withdrew from the kiss. It was a goodbye kiss. He could tell by the salt and the sad smile she gave him as she stroked his cheek, memorizing with her eyes and skin the look and feel of his own alien hardness. Her thumb brushed the lips that could not meld to hers but merely mash into them and press for contact, sapping her life's warmth to nourish his selfish desires for a feeling of belonging and company. It just wasn't right.

"Please, Edward. Promise me."

"Anything, love. You have but to ask." Her eyes glittered in the moonlight. She was sad but full of life at this moment; sure of herself for the first time that he could remember. The only thing he had ever been so sure of was when he recommitted himself to the lifestyle of his family. All other drives had been beaten down and molded to suit his senses.

"Seek love, and if you cannot find it soon enough, seek companions." She stroked his cheek again. "You are too dear to this world to be alone and neglected. You deserve to be loved and held. Promise?"

He breathed out hard, nearly a sob but tearless and dry. "I promise."

Little Lamb, Little Lamb, God Bless Thee!

She pulled him into a gentle embrace and he felt her curves move against him, warm and comfortable but not eliciting the response he always thought it should. Bella turned her head to his ear, brushing her lips on his ear.

"And if it comes to you, don't turn it away. Sometimes the seeker is found first."

Little Lamb, Little Lamb, God Bless Thee.

She released him and walked out of the clearing towards her driveway, casting endearing and sweet smiles back as she went. Edward followed loosely to ensure she made it to her door without harm and into the house to her father and the boy who could –would- give her all the things he would –could- not.

A flower was offered to me

Her thorns were my only delight.

Edward saw the embrace through the window. The large boy –man- who had sworn to guard her held her flush to his chest, his mind throwing out potent images of hope, love, family, and lust. It was heady and lush as it flowed from him, flavored by the texture of his mind with its lack of subtlety often felt in the young. He'd never been privy the Bella's mind, but he could imagine that it was probably sweet and kind, like her. It probably would be a very nice place to rest his weary thoughts, but would it devour him the way she wanted him to be?

How can the bird that is born for joy

Sit in a cage and sing?

…

…

Three men convened in the study and traded chairs, pacing and hand wringing giving way to sitting and shifting, only to trade again.

Edward had left to hunt, a rare trip out of the house since Bella had made her decision, and the men had very little time to ponder how to approach him. They were torn between trying to help their friend and using the opportunity to indulge themselves with their mates, something they were loathe to do in close proximity to him, knowing his discomfort and the pained look they had to see on his face afterwards.

"What about a trip to Denali? It would get him out of here and change his perspective; maybe he'll even change his mind about the succubus sisters." Emmett waggled his brows and flicked at the fringe on Carlisle's most prized tapestry, prompting a warning in the form of a politely restrained snarl.

Jasper sat and stilled. "Alice doesn't recommend Alaska, but I'm not so sure." Emmett gave Jasper a questioning look that was far more intelligent than he usually let on. Carlisle merely waited for him to continue, his fingers steepled and tapping against each other.

"She won't say why, so whatever it is has to do with us. Maybe she's afraid that if she told us anything, something different will happen, or we'd do something to change the path we're on."

"Then we have to respect that." Carlisle stood with an air of finality. "She has always meant well and could only want what was best for Edward. We should wait and see."

Emmett huffed. "So there's nothing we can do? We just have to sit?"

"Oh, I don't think we do nothing." Jasper drawled. "I'm a versatile kind of man. Let's see what Edward does. Then maybe we can draw on that."

The curl of Emmett's mouth was noted by Jasper, though Carlisle chose to ignore it. His sons were, as Jasper noted, very versatile in their youth and vigor. Jasper's empathic talents could be used many ways, but if they could pull his firstborn from his confused depression, then whatever means he used were fine.

Besides, he'd been young once, too.

…

…

Edward never returned that night. Not really. The door opened, a bag was retrieved from a closet and filled, keys dug out, and paperwork was filed into a few folders and stowed in a case. The door closed, and an engine fired and faded into the night.

He'd start in Alaska, his family's haven and far enough from Bella to get her scent out of his nose. The raging fire she lit in his body was matched by the provocation of his mind. The burn of the singer was the passion he'd never known existed. It scorched his throat and seared him inside and out. Carlisle had warned him over and over not to misinterpret the feeling, but had not clarified himself. Either way, in Bella he'd found sweet haven from the raucous tumult around her, an oasis of calm combined with the fire of want. She was perfection in her contrasts.

Fly or drive? Sea-Tac or the Al-Can highway? Edward wanted time to prepare himself so he chose the ferry to Hanes Junction and the drive that would surely destroy the finish on his car. That was why he brought the cheap one.

…

The Denali family welcomed him warmly, and had a room ready for him when he arrived. Alice had called ahead, they explained, but she had given them no reason as to why he was coming.

Irina and Kate gave him the most recent map of their hunting ground and reminded him which species were off limits, owing to the recent poor breeding season. They graciously left him to prepare his room when Tanya entered and greeted him warmly.

"I missed you. You were away for so long. You even missed our last holiday party."

His brow furrowed. "I know. I'm sorry. I was…preoccupied."

Tanya sat on the leather sofa they had acquired for him. As he had no mate currently, there was hardly a need for a bed. He was thankful they had not presumed to put one here permanently; it would only remind him of how alone he felt.

"Who had you so preoccupied? A girl?"

Why did that sound so much like a question of inquiry rather than rhetoric?

"Yes." He replied blandly. Tanya seemed pleased. "It wasn't likely to be the piano tutor."

"I suppose not, you could teach it to most I should think." She settled a clutch of red waves behind her ear, the gesture eliciting a pleasant memory, albeit with different hair. Edward joined her on the couch and Tanya turned to face him, propping her arm on the back and resting her head in her hand.

"Do I know her?"

"No," He got out. "She was…human." Tanya's mind recoiled slightly. She may play with human men, but she didn't love them. She was gentle and careful not to harm them, but she always knew she would only find lasting happiness with her own kind. It was how things worked.

"And now?" She asked him, her delicate brow raised and the faintest smile playing across her lips. Her thoughts were hopeful but reserved and unformed. He had rejected her before, and she did not wish to place herself in that position again.

"Now what?"

"Does she preoccupy you now?" Edward knew she was asking if the girl in question was in the picture at all, which could mean a few things. She had turned him away, he had eventually rejected her, or he had killed her on accident. Any could explain his appearance- both his weary and unkempt self as well as his occupation of a guest suite- in Denali.

"No. She does not. It wasn't meant to be. She…chose another." A flush of embarrassed pleasure at his words hit him and she gave him an apologetic smile. She did not wish to dance over his obvious hurt, but she could not help but rearrange her thoughts regarding him…and herself.

"Ah. I am sorry." She was. Tanya knew she should give him space; it was rude to crowd a guest after a long trip, and she stood from the couch.

"I should let you unpack, Edward. If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know." He stood to see her out, and gently brushed a hand against her elbow in a gentlemanly gesture. It was his good training as well as an experiment.

"Thank you, Tanya. I'll be down shortly."

…

Tanya spent increasing amounts of time with Edward was the summer waned. She was the balm for his wounded pride, but the kisses and caresses they shared were lacking to him. He listened to her mind and heard all manner of delicious words and wants, but it was as if she was a magnificently decadent dish that had been served without the sauce.

One night the family had ventured out to hunt, leaving him alone to compose at the piano they had flown in by helicopter especially for him, along with a tuner who complained of the altitude making his ears ring and throwing the piano far out of adjustment. They claimed they needed to hunt anyway and why not go to give him time to compose in quiet?

He relished the peace and had stacks of lined sheets scribbled upon and scored into a new work. The piece was soft but intense, and he was so wrapped up in it that he was taken by surprise when he realized he was no longer alone.

Tanya had returned early and was standing in the room behind him, soft and fragile looking in white gauze, the faintest dusting of snow still in her hair. He had to admit to himself, she was beautiful and wild. Edward imagined himself looking rather wild. Composing always brought out the beast in him, his writing hand flashing over the paper as his other yanked and mussed his hair, fidgeted at his clothes, and tapped odd keys to punctuate his thoughts.

She did not ask permission, but took initiative and closed in on him. He felt prowled, and was impressed by the feral posture she took, but it seemed childish on her small and lithe frame. Edward allowed himself to be guided to her room.

It felt good, and she tasted good. There was no deceit in him to deny that, but to say that he felt washed away or consumed by her would have been a lie.

He kept his eyes closed nearly the whole time.

…

…

"Dude, it's finally here! Get your controller and prepare to be schooled." The X-box had returned from the service center after Rosalie had forbidden Emmett from simply buying a new one. She claimed if the red ring of death bought her two weeks of peace with no electronic explosions, then she would happily repay him for the quiet in other ways.

Jasper plugged his favorite controller into the now functional unit and they pulled up their avatars, cheerfully refurbishing their cartoon doppelgangers.

"Jas, that style is a certifiable blonde-fro. I'm jealous."

"Kiss my ass. The bald look makes you look like a baby bird." Jasper picked up a stack of games and flipped through them. "Football?"

Emmett grunted. "Ugh, no. The Titans are breaking my heart and the Seahawks crapped it down their legs again. I'm done till the Superbowl." The case was set aside.

"Racing?"

"Eh. I'm not feeling twitchy enough." Another was set aside.

Jasper raised his eyes and gave a mischievous half smile. "Hockey?"

Emmett returned the look and raised an eyebrow. "When is Alice getting home from New York?"

"Few days. Emse is with her scouting something for Carlisle. She heard there was a writing desk that belonged to John Abernethy at auction." Jasper tapped the case of the game with his fingertips.

"Who the fuck is that?"

"Some doctor from the seventeen hundreds. Carlisle knew him." Jasper waved the disk and gave a taunting leer. "Well, are you up for it?"

"Bring it fucker. And I propose a revision to the stakes." Emmett leaned back and waited for Jasper to ask. Jasper just pulsed in irritation…and anticipation, but didn't oblige.

"Alright fine." Emmett sighed, then sat up and licked his lips. "Best of three gets handled. If the loser ups the stakes, we go to five. Best of five gets a blow."

Jasper rolled his eyes. "I've heard this before. What's new?"

Emmett grinned. "If the loser chooses to take it to seven, the winner…" He paused and drew in a luxurious breath, drawing out the other man's annoyance at the game. "Gets to penetrate."

Jasper stared and heat filled his gut. "Don't dish what you can't take." He sat down as the game loaded.

"Are you in?"

"You better have plenty of lube. Drop the puck, bitch."

…

"Mother fuck!" The buzzer ended the fourth game. "We're tied." The two men both smiled maliciously and prepared to duke it out for the next game. Hands flexed and settled over the controllers again.

Emmett stared at the screen. "You're going down, man."

"Bullshit. My cock says he's lonely and wants to get reacquainted with your tonsils. Prepare to greet the Major."

Fingers blazed over the buttons, blurring in their speed. The gaming machine barely kept up with their commands and the timers ticked slowly by comparison. They grunted and began to elbow one another.

Emmett started giggling. "Knock that shit off!" Jasper merely snickered and scored. "No fair. You're using an advantage."

"All's fair in hockey tourney." Jasper growled and unbuttoned his jeans to make a point. "One more period left."

The puck dropped and all motion fell to their hands, delicately flexing and stretching over the colorful controllers, faces taut with concentration.

Emmett scored with a grin.

"FUCK!" Jasper's hair flopped and he yanked it back, looking more like the avatar with every tug and run of his hands. Emmett admired the waving curls and imagined them brushing his thighs.

Jasper glanced over, eyes flashing. "I felt that. Game on."

The game stayed at a dead heat until the timer got to four seconds. Then Emmett used his own advantage. Like a Zen archer, he did not think of his own movement, but in a flash he kicked his leg to the side and knocked Jasper sideways, just hard enough to disrupt him and make a score.

"Hell yes!" Emmett leapt up and pumped his fist in the air triumphantly and turned to face Jasper with an intense and smug look of desire and lust. He sat down again and spread eagled himself on the couch, resting his arms on the headrests on either side, watching Jasper expectantly. Jasper rose and flipped the cord to his controller, wrapping it lightly, setting the bundle on the gaming shelf and took a deep breath.

The lanky blonde pulsed with magnetic power. The shockwave physically caressed Emmett's body and he absorbed the lust and force from Jasper. It washed over him, through him, like a liquid presence. When he turned Emmett felt the full blast of the handsome features, his lean body deceptive in its sinewy quality. It hid a finely tuned predator.

A growl, soft and low, had begun to purr in both of them. It grew ever so slightly louder as Jasper approached, each step deliberate and enticing. Emmett found himself pounding and straining at his jeans, but he knew the rules. He may be the winner, but in their games, the loser set the pace. Even if that weren't the case, the force of Jasper's eyes, flashing and dilated, kept him pinned down.

Jasper came to a halt between his legs and propped one booted foot up on his thigh. "Take off your shirt." If he'd felt braver, Emmett would have smirked, but he knew better than to do so at this stage. He did as told, his muscles rippling under Jasper's gaze and pure heat began to roll over him. Emmett closed his eyes and felt Jasper's fingers trace a path down his cheek, neck, over his collarbones, then slithering over the ridges of his midsection, and back and forth over each muscle as they bunched in anticipation.

A little tug and pull released the button of his jeans, and the teeth of the zipper were carefully held away as it was loosened.

"Open your eyes." There was no ignoring Jasper's requests. Emmett's eyes fell open and he was gripped in Jasper's will. They held each other's eyes, and when he was sure he was ready, Jasper reached for the edge of Emmett's boxers. It was obvious that he was more than ready, but Jasper liked to make it last, liked to make him work for it a little.

He brushed the backs of his fingers across Emmett's cock, making it dance and quiver under the fabric. Jasper smiled in satisfaction as the larger man's eyes rolled back before snapping back to his own. He tugged a little on the soft cotton to expose the very tip, already glazing itself in hot fluid. It surged as if seeking attention, and Emmett groaned, his lids sagging beseechingly.

Jasper finally obliged, taking his foot off Emmett's thigh and he knelt down between his thick thighs, tugging the pants and boxers down and off. The muscles of Emmett's legs twitched as Jasper ran his strong hands up from his ankles to the beginning of the mass of curls, the nest around his beautiful cock. Jasper ran his index fingers along the creases and hair that framed his sack, reveling in the moans and Emmett's rolling head as it fell back onto the cushions.

One stroke of his hand along the full length of his dick, and Emmett's breath caught. Jasper got up from his heels and settled on his knees, cradling the glistening tip into a reservoir made with the ring of his fingers and thumb. Emmett went as still as marble, the seeping silver from his tip the only indication he wasn't made of stone. He waited.

Jasper let his tongue roll along, gathering the fluid and following the ring of his hand down the length of Emmett's shaft and back up. The blonde hair tumbled down, framing his face, tickling along the insides of Emmett's thighs just as he had imagined. Emmett gasped as he felt the tight rings of Jasper's throat grab and caress his head and further down his shaft, then pull back.

Emmett wanted to push Jasper's head down and thrust into him again, but he had a distinct feeling the powerful male would bite his junk off and give it to Rosie, who just might fuck him with it if she were so inclined; or Jasper might make him come immediately and ruin Emmett's moment of triumph. So he relaxed into the pace Jasper set. He tried to, at least.

The rippling sensation of Jasper's windpipe over his head made Emmett's powerful thighs twitch over and over, squeezing the shoulders of the man who worked him so expertly. One of Jasper's hands caressed and massaged Emmett's sack while he sensed the other sliding down to his own crotch to stroke himself.

"No, don't." Emmett whispered. Jasper let out a low, frustrated growl and held him deep in his mouth so Emmett could feel it. The upholstery on the couch was showing wear marks from Emmett's grip on the headrests and cushions. He forced his arms to relax their death grip and he panted to ease his words out.

"I want you to save that up for Alice. You will fuck her senseless when she gets back and I will be in the house to feel it when you do."

Jasper's growl transformed into a groan and he doubled his efforts, tightening his throat and using both hands to tease and stroke Emmett's balls and the delicate patch just beneath. Emmett stroked Jasper's neck, feeling the uninterrupted movement of his shaft in Jasper's throat. The sensation was blinding him, the tension and pressure in him a fever pitch. Just before his eyes were forced closed in a squint of pleasure, Jasper looked up at him to watch. Desire and need flashed in his eyes and a final blast of power pressed the large man into his seat, and into his release, gasping and writhing.

When Emmett had regained his senses, Jasper was reading and looked up to smirk at him.

"For your sake, I hope to god Alice isn't wearing any of her expensive designer shit when she gets home." Jasper mused.

"Huh? Why?"

Jasper's face flashed with amusement, fire glinting deep in the amber of his eyes. "Because I'm ripping every stitch on her to shreds and sending you the bill."

Emmett laughed.

...

Rosalie and Alice waltzed in together later that week, Esme having returned earlier, pleading that the crowds of shoppers had become tiresome. Alice gave her husband a wink and nodded to Emmett, and Rosalie took her husband by the hand and sat with him. Jasper hurriedly escorted his tiny wife up the stairs, wincing in good humor when Emmett called out a 'You're welcome' to them both.

Rosalie grinned at her man and muttered. "They better get busy; I want my contact 'O'." Emmett grinned back and settled in for the ride.

They got four.

...

…

The sheets of his composition mocked him as he shuffled them into neat stack for storage. It was technically sound, but lacked verve, passion. All light and no heat, as usual.

"Will you be gone long?" Tanya asked as he snapped his suitcase shut. He had acquired nothing during his months staying with them, choosing to travel light as if he never expected to stay anyway. She'd bought him things, but he politely left most of them in the room, saying he would take them next time he came.

"I don't know. I need to finish the piece and I think I need a new setting. Besides, the holidays are coming and I always spend Christmas with them." He shut the case with the sheet music and his most recent sets of documents, acquired last year by Jasper and his sly little lawyer. The rat-like man always put up a false protest about legality, but what money could not always accomplish, Jasper's powers of persuasion could.

Edward pulled the passport free and set it in the attaché he kept in the cab of the car with him.

"You could spend Christmas here…with us." She wasn't desperate, just a little disappointed. That was okay, he'd done that to her before.

"Perhaps I will come back after the holidays, after I've worked on the arrangements a bit more." She smiled and nodded, hoping she didn't appear too gleeful that he might return or too sad that he was leaving. Too complex, he thought to himself, why not just say it?

Edward was bombarded by the thoughts of others, and the words people said were so often in sharp contrast to how they felt. It was exhausting to pretend to hear the two at the same time and react only to those spoken. To acknowledge private thoughts felt like a violation of trust. Perhaps that was part of Bella's appeal: she was only what she appeared to be to him, and he had no dichotomy to sort through.

He only knew one other person like that. Emmett was crass, foul and as honest a man as you could come across. He could be irritating in his lack of finesse, but Edward knew he was more than he appeared, but in a way that was tolerable. He was intelligent, but did not wallow in his own mind as Edward did.

"I'd like that. We'll keep your room as it is, unless you'd like to change the furnishings?" She was picturing the kind of bed she'd like in the room, down to the fabrics she liked laying on and coordinating curtains.

Edward recoiled at the assumption, but responded only to the words she spoke, not the shameless angling.

"Please don't go to any trouble. The couch is very nice and you've already done so much bringing the piano here. Your family is too kind." She took him largely at face value but did not hide her dissatisfaction at his diplomatic dismissal of the offer.

His papers secured, and his bag packed, he bid his hosts goodbye, thanking them for all their hospitality and kindness. He meant every word of it, too.

…

Edward stopped at a few picturesque points along the way, partly to dispel the monotony of the drive and partly to do his holiday shopping. A coastal village had lovely handmade Orthodox crosses, carved from local woods and painted with the bright colors the Russian church was so fond of. He smiled fondly, imagining Esme touching it and inspecting the delicate nicks in the wood that created the little flowers at the points.

An ivory carver had his usual work for the tourists in the window, but on his workbench there was a magnificent piece of tusk scavenged from a walrus carcass. Coiling strands representing DNA wrapped the length of the ivory and morphed into delicate animals and birds leaping from the helix at the base of the tusk. Edward was taken by the remarkable symbols and meanings and immediately made an offer- he knew it just had to be in Carlisle's study. The young man was reluctant at first, but when an additional zero was added to the number, he swiftly agreed, jumping up to wrap the piece for his new patron.

"If you ever want to commission something, here is my number here at the shop." The young man eyed Edward and turned over the business card, reaching for a pen. "Here's my home number, cell, and my email. Drop by next time you're in town, yeah?"

More unformed thoughts, but of a different...flavor. He meant what he said about the work, but there was more. Edward thanked him and very politely promised to think about it. He nearly broke stride at the threshold of the store when the man imagined what his lips would taste like.

...

Rosalie was in her splattered overalls when he got home and she eyed the creaking Volvo as it pulled into the driveway. The car was dotted with coagulated mud and road dust, and she held up a hand as he approached. Edward obediently stopped and turned off the engine.

"That pile of scrap is not coming into my garage in that condition. You're washing that piece of shit before it crosses the concrete." She strode to him, her hands on her hips, then pulled him into a hug. "Alice said you might be back today. It's nice to see you."

"Thanks, Rosalie. It's actually nice to be home. Who's here?"

"Carlisle, Emmett, Jasper, the pixie and me. Esme is out on a shopping trip to finish shopping for presents. Merry Christmas, by the way."

Edward smiled at his sister and friend before lugging his bags and packages into the house. The car could wait. After crushing hugs from Emmett and Jasper they handed him off to Alice, who gave him a quizzical glance before wiping her face and mind clean.

"I'm so glad you're back, Edward. We were so worried." She plucked at his sleeves and smoothed his wild hair with her hand only to have it spring back.

"I'm fine. I just needed to get away. The good news is that I have a wonderful start on a new composition."

The faintest shadow crossed Alice's brow before she controlled the reaction. The implication was that there was bad news, but Edward seemed unwilling to delve, so she forced her thoughts to the music.

"Can you play it for us? Esme would be delighted to know you've been able to write again."

Edward hedged. "Ah, it isn't quite ready for an audience yet. I might play a few bars, but it's in bits and pieces. I have to connect them all and find the finale."

Disciplining her mind, Alice merely smiled and led him Carlisle's study to greet their patriarch.

...

Esme loved the smells of the holidays, so a pot of mulled cider with orange slices steamed on the stove unsampled, sending the most delicious and sweet aromas full of fruit and spices into the air. The scent wafted through the house and mixed with the pine of their tree. The three women had decorated it with hand-blown glass pieces from around Europe and, in garish contrast to Edward's eyes, strings of popcorn Emmett had insisted they all thread on Christmas eve. Alice rolled her eyes but Esme thought it was a darling idea and immediately bought an air popper.

The group sang carols in every language they could think of until Emmett and Rosalie begged off, excusing themselves to their suite 'to exchange gifts'. Carlisle and Esme made a more graceful exit, bidding everyone a nice holiday and departing for their own rooms.

Alice rose and shut off the burner with the cider and began to clean the pot, leaving Jasper and Edward to finally talk.

"So, how was Alaska?" Jasper asked awkwardly.

"Beautiful. I'd forgotten how lovely the mountains were this time of year. I was able to compose watching the snows grow thicker on the range. What have you been up to?"

Jasper locked his mind up, but answered truthfully. "You know. X-Box with Emmett. Wrote a few papers for a technology and warfare journal. The usual." No need to terrify his brother, even if he had a sense of the goings on in the house. But...

Alice interrupted his thoughts. "Jasper, there was a gift I wanted to give you tonight... want to see?" Jasper gazed at Edward apologetically.

Edward waved him off. "Get out of here, man. She's liable to crack the whip if you don't hurry." Jasper chuckled, imagining such a thing and they both laughed at the image, breaking into louder peals at Alice's raised and amused eyebrow.

They ascended the stairs, leaving Edward to himself. He walked quietly to the piano and lifted the cover, skimming his hands over the keys and noting the lack of any dust. Esme had kept it in perfect readiness. He thought over the piece he was composing and very softly tapped on the keys to hear the notes his mind whispered in his ears. He wanted to write.

Mindful of the activities going on around him, Edward silently crept up the stairs and padded to his room to retrieve the papers from his case. He needed to see and feel the pages to truly write, and the need to do so was on him now. He walked past the linen closet and tried to ignore the crescendo of thoughts coming from the next room in the hallway. He had to walk past it, and he focused on his own door at the end of the hallway.

The images began, and Edward tried, with no success, to get around them.

...

Jasper gazed at his lovely wife. She wore the dark silk like a second skin, the laced hem skimming her hipbones, the split in the babydoll exposing her adorable belly and the matching silk panties. She often wore beautiful things for him, but tonight she wore dark silk, even though she knew her husband's preference for pale pinks and white. Tonight was different, and she nodded at Jasper.

"Whatever you've got planned, tonight is the night to try it." Her eyes darted to the door, alerting Jasper, and he felt Edward's abashed presence in the hallway a moment later.

...

He was looking at her, loving her body with just his eyes. Edward knew Jasper adored his wife, even with all else that sometimes shadowed his mind. Edward never made inquiries; it was simply not in him to pry about his family's activities behind their doors. To do so felt like an invasion, and it was rare they would make such a display with him in the house, knowing how his gift worked, but it was Christmas Eve after all. He'd have to grin and bear it.

Do you like it?

Alice. Alice asking Jasper his opinion without speaking. He would feel the question and answer her in kind. Jasper was drinking her in, reflecting and enjoying her love and passion like an aperitif- not quenching, but piquing and sharpening his enjoyment. Edward saw her shape, the fluttering dark blue silk ruffling over her hips and grazing her pubis through Jasper's eyes. She was a treasure to behold and Jasper let her know with a flood of love and appreciation.

The view he saw moved. Jasper had looked down and Edward slowed as he passed the door.

Get the case and get back to the piano, he chided himself. This is not meant for you.

Jasper's voice cut into the dark hallway.

There's nothing to be ashamed of. Do you like it?

Edward stopped mid stride. It could not have been meant for him...but it was. Alice was basking in Jasper's love, Carlisle and Esme were elsewhere, and there was no such thing as shame when Rosalie and Emmett were around. He was the only one with cause for shame.

He swallowed.

Jasper's gaze drifted over his own legs, lingering over the muscles that flexed and bunched as he moved. They canvassed upwards, to linger on Alice's parted lips and her delicate breasts, the hardened nipples pointing behind the silk. The view dropped to Jasper's hard and battle marked body, his fingers splayed over his chest.

Edward stopped breathing.

The vision concentrated on the hand, and it travelled lower, over the sleek abdomen. The far end of the hand angled up and curled. Seemingly from nowhere, like a magician's trick, as it moved up along an arc, it revealed Jasper's hard shaft.

Do you like this?

Edward's vision blurred and he dashed out of the house and into the forest.

...

...

Edward spent most of his time in the woods when Jasper was home for the next few days. He was cordial with everyone but to Esme's disappointment, begged his leave to travel to Europe. He needed the time to concentrate on his writing and nothing was as inspiring as the stones of the venerable houses of music in Germany and Italy. Carlisle wished him well and reminded him of where the best hunting was, and to keep a low profile in Italy.

Emmett came out of the house on his way to hunt and waved to Edward as he headed to his favorite valley to rustle up a meal. Edward waited a reasonable amount of time before heading out to follow, hoping to find company that wouldn't be so challenging.

He sat and waited on the path Emmett generally took, enjoying being out of range of the house so the thoughts of his family were no longer a racket in his mind. He looked forward to a talk with Emmett; a nice chat to take with him in his mind when he left.

Emmett smiled as he saw the wild hair being tugged in the distance and strode to where his friend sat. Edward swept a hand to the spot of log next to him, swinging his feet over the shallow gulch below them, and Emmett took a seat, sated from his meal and looking forward to company. Jasper had spoken to him early that morning, and reported what he'd felt on Christmas Eve. He wiped this from his mind swiftly and replaced the image with Rosalie's tits. Done.

"So, you're leaving on New Years? I bet the airport bars will be a scene."

Edward shook his head. "It's not the bars that are that bad, it's the bathrooms. By the time they end up in there, they're a mess and can't control what they think. It's awful." He shuddered.

"And you're going to finish that thing you're working on? You started it in Alaska, right?"

"Yes, it's a piece that keeps getting more complicated on me. Every time I think I have it sewn together, a new thought or bridge intrudes and I have to write it. It throws the rest off and I have to re-work sections to bring back continuity." Edward sighed and crushed up a piece of river stone and tossing the powder down to the thin trickle of water in the gulch a few feet below. "It's very complicated. Like everything is."

Emmett eyed him. "It doesn't have to be. You could just see where it goes, you know."

"I suppose. But," Edward glanced around at the tall redwoods and pines, sneaking a glance toward town and...her. Then towards the house and...him. "I'm not sure I can compose here. The piece needs a feel I can't get here."

The large figure scooted ever so minutely closer to Edward. "What kind of feel is that?" The big man allowed his mind to roam just a hair.

"The atmosphere of the song has to start just...empty, barren. Alaska was good for that, but here," Edward looked pointedly at the lacy cathedral of trees. "They only look spindly and desolate, but we know that in the blink of an eye they will bloom." He sighed. "I haven't written the transition movement yet. I need other surroundings."

Emmett envisioned a green cathedral of lush canopy above. He'd seen it often enough, and could almost see the sunlight dappling into Edward's shaggy hair. It surprised even himself, that little tweak of sensation in his gut.

"Are you in need of inspiration?"

"That's not the problem." More dust flew as Edward blew on his hand. "I just need undisturbed time in a place that encourages the process. Somewhere away. Perhaps Europe."

Emmett's voice was deep, but gentle. "Do you think getting away will solve your... problems?"

Edward dropped the last stone shard that was left and flicked the dust into a puff. "Are we still talking about music, Emmett?" He whispered.

"Only if that's what you think we're talking about." Emmett very cautiously nudged Edward's shoulder. It could have been interpreted as a brotherly shoulder punch, or as affectionate play. Edward searched Emmett's mind and found that the options were open to interpretation.

The door was open, so to speak. Edward did not scoot away, but he made no move to close the space between them, either. Emmett's hulking form shifted over, leaning his face very close to Edward's and exhaling on his neck.

"Are you still talking about music, Edward?"

Edward's breath shuddered nervously, his head leaning away but his body pressing toward the hulking form bearing down on him.

Emmett placed his hands on Edward's knees and swung down, his heavy lug-soled boots making a sloppy thud and splash as they struck the damp ground. His hands held Edward's knees lightly, his eyes on the level of Edward's chest. Emmett stepped forward.

"Tell me about the transition, Edward."

Edward panted, and part of him wanted to jump and run, his Victorian soul horrified at the tidbits and flashes of scenes in Emmett's mind. They were highly erotic and mixed, full of love and sensual acts with his beloved wife, Rosalie. Her body, her strength, her passion permeated his being, but there was a little corner she did not occupy.

"It's...complex."

Emmett was laying his mind open for him, sensing that Edward had seen enough to ascertain dichotomy. Edward was no longer frantically tensing his thighs for flight, and he did as his manners usually forbade him: he probed. Edward leaned forward, peering into Emmett's face and eyes as he examined his mind and its secrets.

"Tell me about it. Why is it complex?"

In Emmett's mind, delicate hands and curving legs gave way to strength and power, the armor of protection easing away to reveal a being whose solution was the offensive attack. Flat planes of muscle that clearly did not belong on the body of a woman were melded against round, flexing ones in Emmett's mind.

He could feel the probe in his mind, the exploration. "Why, Edward?" Emmett pushed a new set of images to the man he held in nothing more than the thrall of his mind's eye. Wavy blond hair piled in his lap, a glimpse of lean and dangerous sinew curving down.

"It's not...conventional."

Edward was entranced. He reached a hand up to touch Emmett's neck, to stroke the stem from which the images sprang. Emmett caught his hand and pressed it to his cheek and neck, the long fingers of the composer spanning the distance easily. Emmett held him in his gaze and his hands flashed over Edward's clothes. Loosened. Open.

"Why are you concerned about...convention?"

He hadn't even felt it...until he felt it. Edward gasped at the strong hand that stroked down his length, hardened by the wash of scenes painted in Emmett's mind. It was sure and confident, not simpering or begging. He warred with himself over his reaction.

It felt good, but it did when he did it to himself, too. It had felt good with Tanya, but that was awkward regardless of the outcome.

Emmett's mind began to relay the images he was seeing: deep bronze hair waving with the back and forth sway of his torso, face contorted in conflicted pleasure. It was not effeminate, not merely accepting or acquiescing; Edward clearly wanted more, but was hitting the hard borders of his upbringing in both deed and form. The edges delineated the clear lines of what was acceptable, regardless of desire and devoid of compassion. These borders were becoming sites of the trench warfare he'd read about.

Emmett stroked him and leaned over, Edward only dimly aware of his posture until sensation blazed over his loins. The teeth grazed just so over the curve of his cockhead once, twice. Edward threw his head back and roared, releasing in jagged shots that surprised even the man standing between his legs. Responsiveness was a gift, and Emmett appreciated the reaction he had kindled with a few firm strokes. A little teasing.

Edward panted and swam in his daze and pried his fingers from the divots of splintered wood he'd made in the log bridge. His half-mast cock was being gently nudged back into place in his pants with care given to how it lay against the seams.

Just a little respect for you, E.

Emmett departed slowly back to the house, as if to offer company on the way back, but Edward sat still, a little marble angel perched on the fallen tree.

…

Esme and Carlisle had hated to see him leave, but the flight and the reservations were made that very night and he caught the next flight to Germany. The dark cabin on the airplane did nothing to lull him, and he played at dozing under his wool blanket like all the humans. At least he did it in first class.

To pass the time, he allowed his mind to go over parcels of the music, bridges here and there, and a few bars that lacked his finesse. All the while he was frustrated over the finale; how to make it truly that, and give real completion to the piece.

After six months he was known as 'The Caravaggio Beethoven' by the professors, with his wild hair and unbuttoned white cuffs pulled from beneath the sweaters. From a distance, with human eyes, he could pass for something from another century. He played in recital halls, recording rooms, and rented concert halls to hear the differences in acoustics. In France they admired his flair for the dramatic, and in Germany they sternly praised his vigor and power. Everywhere, the university professors and those he understudied were awed by his constant presence, convinced they were seeing genius at work, the birth of the next Master.

The truth was Edward was possessed. He didn't even know by what, but propositions abounded from his classmates, male and female, as well as tutors and professors. He ignored their feeble strokes on his shoulders, the chats by the bench, or worst of all, the wistful sighs of delight from the girls who clasped their cellos between their knees and thought of him.

Their heads were always full of fantasies of him unleashing his musical passion on their bodies instead of the keys and paper. It distracted him when he was in the throes, scribbling new ideas and trying to connect the fragments. Their slight and shallow impressions on him were glancing ripples in his concentration; skipped stones off a vast lake.

Frail humans. In his moments of inactivity, made rare by choice, his mind swam and pounded with images of strong hands and bodies…splinters. He gripped the pencils tightly, leaving divots on the shafts, as the need gnawed at him and was translated onto the reams of staff paper.

He made great progress, but after the fourth full-on mental groping one day, he decided to purchase tickets and return home. Besides, the calendar had reached the ninth month again, and he felt he needed a pilgrimage.

…

...

Alice had walked lightly all day and Jasper marveled at the brightening of her mood caused by a vision of Edward returning home soon. She took her time preparing a gift for him: a whole new stack of fine cotton-linen blend staff paper for him to use in drafting more polished versions of his work. She was proud that she had found the same maker that supplied the German Masters that Edward adored and commissioned a private purchase of classical sized sheets for his work.

She closed the wooden case, sized and made especially for the paper, and ran her mind through all the possible outcomes for the next few weeks. The gymnastics had become exhausting, but she cared deeply for him, for the strange devotion to Edward seemed to create its own incongruous state of near grace.

For a fellow who'd had no compunctions about feeding from the dregs of society for a few decades, he'd certainly chosen some odd things to be squeamish about, she thought as she made her way upstairs to get ready for his arrival.

"You're thinking of him, aren't you?" Jasper said softly from their doorway. Years of drinking animal blood had tamed his wild mind, but done nothing to dull his edge.

Alice smiled at her mate, enjoying the side of him he reserved for her, though she knew he could be gentle at anything he wished. "I am." She paused, facing Jasper at the doorway. "I miss him and I want him to stay."

He moved aside so she could walk past him, entering the room. "I'd like that, too." They sat in the little alcove by the window and watched the slivers of orange and gray sunset dance over the treetops. "You chose a beautiful gift for him. I'm shocked that you chose with utility in mind, rather than pure ostentation."

"Edward does not appreciate the decorative side of life," Alice replied, ignoring his smirk. "A gift with no purpose would have been hollow. It may also convince him to work here, which will make us all happy." Alice cocked her head to the side. "Do you still wish to see him happy, Jasper?"

"I wish to see him with direction and purpose- he'll have to find happiness on his own. But yes, I want him to be happy." He slipped down from his chair and leaned back against Alice's legs. She ran her hands through his hair and massaged his scalp. Pure contentment oozed from him and she let it sweep over her, feeling a new wave of interest despite the pleasant distraction from her preparations earlier.

Jasper chuckled. "You know how to keep me happy, woman. Get down here on the floor."

…

...

She was lovely. Time away from him had put meat on her bones. Where there had been angles and planes there now curves and rounded softness.

Edward wondered, as he gazed through the woods at the backyard birthday party, if he had been sucking her life away as surely as he'd wanted to suck her blood. It was as if she'd frozen in her development near him, holding back the final blossoming until she gained distance from him.

Mystical rose,

Jacob handed her a plate with cake and spooned the first bite into her mouth. The tall man watched her lips close on the plastic spoon and licked his own, his mind conjuring all manner of images both remembered and imagined. They were most certainly lovers by now. It made her no less pure to him, but he couldn't decide if he was jealous or saddened by the revelation. Either had its implications.

Edward settled into the crook in the branches, contemplating the scene before him as well as the ones in his head. The last time he'd seen her, she begged him to find companionship. It was not a fool's errand to seek that, though it had become apparent in Europe that humans would not make appropriate vessels for friendships. Bella would forever be the measure of worth, the golden pound, that others would fail to match. Once her light was out, it was likely he would never interact with humans for anything other than business for some time. The idea of going to school yet again made him shudder.

He gazed back at the lovely young woman. She was being gently but thoroughly kissed by her swain and appeared to like every minute of it. Her pink-tinged pallor was offset beautifully by his darker complexion, his hand and fingers caressing her cheek and neck with a reverence normally seen offered to images of saints and family heirlooms.

Tower of Ivory,

House of gold,

It was the strangest blend of the sacred and the profane, the things he'd seen and done, as was the couple he forced himself to watch. Edward could create, the ultimate act of both conceit and worship, and destroy. He had remained a celibate for over a century, monk-like, a veritable Augustine seeking truth and restraint, and now he had delved into, not unwillingly, what he had been raised to revile- to see as an aberration. In truth, it had not felt wrong, nor like sin. Only confusing.

And from the mind he could hear? Images of his sweet Bella in her passion, love blending seamlessly into desire and friendship. A crescendo of warmth and closeness.

The wind kicked up, blowing the red-checked tablecloth and flapping the edges into the frosting of the cake, disrupting the party and sending the attendants scurrying to fold it under and weigh it down with stones. There was a lyrical quality to the way it whistled and filtered through the branches, and Edward began to hear notes in it, making connections and filling spaces that had crevassed his work.

With a feline leap, he scaled the canopy and was well out of earshot of even the sensitive sets of ears at the party before he dropped to the ground and ran, half flying, to the car he'd left along the highway on his way home from the airport. He had scheduled his flight, as usual, based on Alice's recommendation and knew as soon as the thought to stop came to him why she had picked this one.

Now he had to go home. He needed to write what was flickering over the bars in his mind, to see and hear his hands touch the keys and bring the notes into existence.

Refuge of sinners,

Queen of Angels,

It would be an awkward homecoming. Of that he was sure, but she said not to turn it away if it came to him. Sometimes the seeker is found first.

Seat of Wisdom

Pray for us.

…

"Alice, I don't know what to say!" Edward was touched and could feel his writing hand itch for his pens as he skimmed his fingers over the thick embossed lines of the staff paper.

"Say you'll stop downloading the format and writing your music on printer paper." Alice embraced him, and seeing sincerity in his intentions to do so, ventured on bravely. She pulled back and rubbed his arms with her hands. "Say you'll use it here… work here. Create here. Grow here."

Edward was struck by her words and could only graciously accept the beautiful wooden box full of the perfect sheets begging for his attention. Instead of taking them to his room, he set them on the desk next to the piano and unpacked his pens from his attaché, setting them in the drawer. Alice shot him a bright smile and joined Esme in the dining room to plan a small family celebration.

"Edward," Esme called to him from the dining room. She did not even finish aloud, but he heard her message and headed off to Carlisle's study. As he entered, Carlisle was immersed in a phone consultation and held up an apologetic finger and gestured to the room, inviting Edward to stay. While Carlisle discussed some poor man's prognosis with a resident in Seattle, he strolled along the edges of the room and looked over the trinkets and keepsakes Carlisle had acquired, smiling when he came to the delicately carved ivory tusk he had found in Alaska.

His smile faded and his mouth fell open in some surprise when he noticed that the twining strands of DNA curved around the tip of the tusk, suggesting a…phallus?

The phone was returned its cradle and Edward swiftly moved on, closing his lips and blinking swiftly.

"Welcome back, Edward! Tell me about the trip and your work!"

…

Edward had forgotten the joys of familiar surroundings, even though he'd managed to avoid Emmett and Jasper since he'd gotten home, but after three days he could not stay cloistered any longer and upon leaving the high-fidelity sanctuary of his room and music collection, he felt the overwhelming need to run his pens over the magnificently smooth and ink-thirsty paper Alice had been so kind to give him.

The house sounded quiet, empty, the music piped through his noise cancelling headphones still echoing a little in his mind. The notes began to morph into his familiar work, and he felt the draw of the paper and pens.

He reached out and flicked on the single overhead light above the piano keys and drew the table close to the side so he could tap and write as he went. The halo of warm light glinted off the shining keys like sparks igniting his creative self. Edward uncapped a pen, a fine tipped artist's pen that made a satisfying scratch as he drew it across the paper, and he swooshed the treble and bass clefs into the rungs on the far left of the lines.

Edward's left hand was tenuously touching the keys, sounding out the warm-up phrases of the piece as he, with the other hand, pulled out stacks and stacks of handwritten notes and pages of graceful and calligraphic notes. He imagined the notes embracing him, caressing his hands and mind, flowing over and through him.

Here was passion, it was not -could not- be borne simply of the physical to him. The outlet had to match the intake. His eyes closed and concentrated on the introduction, memorized the moment it had come to him months ago, sweet and mournful, and had there been tears in his steel frame, they would have scourged his face for the thousandth time in memory of the ache he carried. It was in his music and the moments around it that he could truly express what he felt.

Both hands were upon the keyboard now, his feet controlling the hold of the notes as he bridged to the next movement. It was wandered in a meandering and expressive lullaby but held the most ominous hint of power, faint pulses in the melody that raised tension and gave a feeling of expectation. With blurring hands, he wrote and played almost simultaneously, the notes never having time to fade as he wrote before he returned to the keys to continue the movement.

Edward was only dimly aware that light had shone through the curved bay windows and faded again as he played, wrote, replayed, adjusted, and repeated the series dozens of times, creating in a day what a master would have in weeks, if not years. He felt no thirst, his soul swimming in the fire of creation and destruction as he wrote and revised in a single sitting.

Images began to creep into his mind; sensation licked and curled his body over the keyboard, twisting him over the desk to write. The light came and left again and he discarded his third pen, the ink supply exhausted and the fine tip blunted and dull.

Heat flooded his body, tightening his insides and curling through his empty veins, gathering force and searing every inch of his skin. Behind his closed eyes, even as he pounded the keys, he saw powerful arms, graceful sinew, and coiled muscle. He saw taut skin, curving breasts, and firm shoulders. The images collided into a constantly shifting mirage of beauty and strength, pushing his hands to press the keys into evermore convoluted and strident phrases.

The coursing wave of frenzy translated back and forth, mind and body, until he felt the ramping need tingle through him. Unlike other times, he grabbed hold of the ecstasy with everything he had, without fear, without shame, and rode the potent crest upwards.

The seams of his jeans pressed into him, rubbing the iron within and, without intent, he began rocking on the bench, feeling the pressure tense and release with his movements. Edward mindlessly gave himself to the euphoric delirium and arched his back, rutting. His explosive release sounded through the house, rattling the glass of the bay windows and scattering the birds that had been at Esme's copper feeders.

Edward removed his hands from the piano, having been careful not to damage the instrument, his eyes still closed and his breath coming in hoarse pants. He barely cracked one eye to see that the sun was completely receded for the day, whatever day this was, and dozens of pages of the beautiful staff paper were scattered around the bench and on top of the desk.

As his senses returned, he suddenly froze. He was not alone.

He was, at that very moment, being watched. Pulses of condensed erotic focus bathed the room in a fuzzy red haze and Edward turned, knowing who would be standing there.

Jasper's eyes glittered in the half moon light cast from the desk lamp that had survived the previous days of frantic work. He was wordless, and presented no images or intent to him, merely his overwhelming being dripping with awareness of Edward and his recent occupation.

Edward shuddered, not quite sure of the reason, and Jasper shoved a paralyzing blast of fascination into him, freezing him to the bench where he sat and unable to react other than to wait for his next move.

The blonde made none, only his mind acting while his body seethed.

Go hunt, Edward. Now.

Edward clawed at what was left of his wits and ran to the woods, leaving the whirlwind of his work behind to gather later.

…

Emmett and Jasper carefully set the stacks of papers on the closed top of the piano, trying to keep them in some semblance of order based on where they fell in Edward's hasty departure.

"You saw the whole thing?" Emmett asked again. The blonde gently tapped the sides of a stack of paper and smoothed them down before nodding. "And he…you know…just sitting there at the piano?"

Jasper flicked his eyebrows in response and gave Emmett a taste of the intensity he'd felt from Edward. The larger man swayed and held the top of the piano for balance before glaring heatedly at Jasper.

"You're going to regret that, fucker." He evened up the sides on his last stack and glanced around the house. "Where is everyone?"

One side of the Jasper's mouth curled up higher than the other in a sloppy smile. "Carlisle and Esme are major donors for a number of charities, and there is a gala for one in Seattle tonight."

"And when will they be back?" Emmett's voice grew deeper, rougher.

Jasper walked to living room and opened the entertainment center's doors. "I have no idea, but Alice promised to be discreet." He flicked on the systems and fired up the X-Box. "I propose we kill time until Edward returns. Get your controller, bitch."

...

Edward ran. He tracked the first thing with a strong heartbeat and drained it, barely noticing that it was cloven hoofed, his head still swimming from his climax. When the red ceased to spill into his mouth he disposed of the body and found himself in the meadow.

In wonder, he cast his eyes around the cold and soggy loam, so different from the summer bloom he recalled. He lay down, resting his head on his arm, and let his mind drift to the sweet girl, now woman, who had lain alongside him once. Strains of notes and mismatched harmonies spun through his mind as the vision soured for him. It was wrong to want her now and probably had been then, too, but had she chosen differently...

She had chosen for her own interests, as she should. And that left him where, aside from lying on the cold, wet ground? He was a globetrotting immortal with a stack of handwritten music, disturbed by humans and seduced by his own kind.

Now there was a thought.

He shifted his hips and felt a spark of friction, still slightly sticky from earlier. Was he being seduced? Perhaps the more germane question was, did he want to be seduced? And by whom?

Did he care?

That was another thought to consider. He did care, after all, didn't he? He hadn't waited a hundred years for nothing, except these first forays had been awkward and far less than the transcendence he saw in the minds of his fellow vampires and the pale shadow of it in the heads of humans. The difference, perhaps, was that he had put himself in the hands of someone he did not care for- red hair did not move him, and he needed familiar ground now, for both his personal growth as well as musical catharsis. The piece needed its climax.

Edward sat up, cognizant now of the time, ignoring the damp on his back and the sunlight that set off a wildfire of reflections in the midday sun.

Mad dogs, indeed.

…

Jasper raised his head from the controller and Emmett removed his hand from the blonde's lap. Racing was so much more fun when you had to fight the distractions, after all.

"He's coming." Jasper said simply. Emmett wondered if he meant Edward's approach or if Alice's talents had rubbed off on her husband. The blonde merely smirked and brushed his hand over Emmett's cheek.

"He leads, right?" Emmett asked.

"Yes," Alice called out from the door as she prepared to leave. "We'll be gone again. Carlisle is taking us to Toronto and I thought you could use the quiet. Besides," She raised an eyebrow at her husband, "You know how much I just love coming home to you boys."

The men grinned, knowing she would be well taken care of during her trip, and when she got back. Carlisle, Esme and Rose gave knowing glances from the porch and their party departed, leaving the men to wait for Edward.

Within the hour, they heard Edward enter quietly and ascend the stairs quickly. Their noses twitched at the brief waft of the blood splatter he must have carried on his clothes and smiled, knowing he had hunted and should be replete for days.

Some minutes later, he came down the stairs, freshly washed and exuding casual disinterest when he saw that the gaming console was engaged in a fighting game full of gruesome and comic detail. Edward turned to the piano and saw the carefully arranged stacks of staff paper.

"They are arranged loosely by where they fell, Edward. We didn't think they should be on the floor." Jasper said softly over the crash of weapons in the game.

"Thank you. I…thank you," Was all he managed, and set himself to ordering the pages, setting aside those full of errors or simply covered in scribble. The act was cleansing, allowing him to focus, to see and hear the work as his eyes scanned over the pages. It was there, once he removed the excess and the prosaic, it would lack only the final part, tying the piece together. He could nearly hear the many parts as they strained to mesh, and then gloriously combine to create a single, final thread; a phrasing that would steal the souls that heard it. He merely needed the links.

He was a vessel of passion that had begun to leak. Pent up force and will had been tightly wound for a century, chinked by the heart of a little girl, and picked at by those he actually cared about. Did he only care? Or did they enthrall him? Edward stared at the couch, watching the men as they played their game, the backs of their heads still and making no indication of the contest on the screen, or the suggestive flashes they projected.

If he had a living heart, it would be pounding. Instead it was his feverish mind that sent the room blazing. Jasper's posture shifted and Edward probed at his mind.

I can feel you, Edward. Can you feel me? An accompanying pulse of warmth nearly ruffled his mad hair, and Emmett looked away from the screen toward Jasper. It was interest and affection only, Jasper knew better than to unleash his baser side too soon. It might frighten Edward off, having never been exposed to the true depth and power of his own kind. He would want it soon enough.

"Yes, but…" Edward struggled with his words, unsure if his voice and mouth could articulate his jumbling desire. He still wasn't sure of his, or their, intentions.

Is it easier this way? The relief Jasper felt from Edward made him continue. There is nothing to fear or feel ashamed for. We are not like them, and we do not have to follow their rules. Jasper's momentary lapse allowed Emmett a victory and he stood, arms raised, not aware of the tenuous invitation being extended.

"Ha! Bitch I own you." Emmett pumped the air with his fists.

Jasper's outline blurred as the fury overcame his better senses for a split second. He wanted to speak but there was nothing he could say without sounding whiny or frustrated, so he seethed with irritation. Edward stared, entranced by the exchange as one would a foreign culture, but did not move away.

Emmett's hands went to his belt and Edward's eyes widened. Emmett did not apologize, but gazed at him. Wanna watch? He's a sight on his knees. Jasper turned and waited, expecting to lose the moment, but instead felt the curiosity of a bystander wedge through Edward's shock and trepidation.

Instead of running as his legs initially considered, Edward took a step forward, starting both men from their bewilderment and into slow, persuasive action.

Edward watched, completely entranced by the way they touched each other with care and respect. Tanya cared about him, but he doubted there was any respect in her mind. His failure as her partner, born mostly of his lack of experience and discomfort at her excessive behaviors, combined with his own clumsy attempts to please her on that occasion, had removed any chance of her esteem. Perhaps women were more challenging.

The strong men curled into a position of intimate familiarity easily, at first removing a few articles of clothing, only enough to expose what would be innocent under any other circumstances and surroundings, but moving around each other in a way that invited Edward's eyes to see them anew. They were beautiful, and they appreciated each other.

Emmett was about to reach into Jasper's pants, when a fresh wave of searing desire hit him with force. Jasper's amber eyes glowed with fire and he turned to face him, his back against Emmett's chest, his hands resting on his hips. Hands snaked around Jasper's torso and stroked down his bare chest, fingertips dipping just below the top of the low slung denim and resting there. Edward stared at the shockingly sensual vision, a final reordering of his universe occurring.

Come here, Edward. Emmett locked eyes with him, the hand not skimming Jasper's ridged abdomen beckoned with a crook of his finger.

Edward hesitated. He had been the passive observer, could he be a participant? There was a line somewhere between the piano just behind him and the other side of the couch where the heat and raw force emanated from.

You can walk away anytime, Edward. His gaze snapped to the slimmer man. Let us help you find what you're looking for.

Edward willed his feet to move, and for a split second he didn't care which way they went, so long as a decision was made. He placed his feet, watching them move, detached, until he was toe to toe with Jasper, his eyes drifting up until they stilled at the arm wrapped around Jasper's side and the hand lodged in his pants.

Emmett, being the less subtle of the two, reached forward with the hand that had been stroking and teasing Jasper's nipples and gently brushed Edward's arm, running his fingers down the gracefully formed arm and took his hand. Touch him, Edward. Emmett withdrew his hand from Jasper's jeans and flipped open the button, making room. Edward allowed his hand to be held to Jasper's skin, but did not actively unfurl his fingers to engage the act.

Edward held back, needing to be reassured, and he raised his eyes, tearing them from the luscious sight of Jasper's body. Their eyes met, flaring and sparking, and Edward grew languid, leaning forward.

They were all surprised at the force that Edward unleashed when his mouth found purchase with Jasper's. The blonde man was shocked at the intimacy, somehow more than he'd prepared for, and he redoubled the sensation, reflecting the swirling thirst and craving.

Emmett's body waved, pressing his cock into Jasper's backside. The nudge pushed Edward's hand into full contact with the lean body between them and Emmett pulled Edward's hand. The invitation was accepted and as Jasper's tongue, slick with venom and lust, flicked out and caressed Edward's lips.

Edward pushed back with his hand and tongue, finding the thick hardened cock and reached down curiously, toying with the thick hair and tickling Jasper's sack. The blonde thrust forward and reached up to grip Edward's shoulders.

Emmett reached around and cupped Edward through the soft fabric of his lounge pants as he pressed against Jasper again. The room was humming with soft moans and their slow undulations began to take direction to the couch. Jasper watched as Emmett grasped at Edward, and took the opportunity to slide out from between them. He circled around Edward and sat on the couch, holding Edward's hips, allowing Emmett to run his hands under Edward's shirt. His head leaned back, accepting the contact that had been so rare from him in his life, either of them.

Jasper hooked his thumbs under the band of Edward's pants, glancing up to his blazing amber eyes.

"God, please..." Edward exuded want and ardor, panting, and actually raised his hands to enclose Jasper's, and providing a little push that sent the jersey knit to the floor. Jasper immediately ran a hand along Edward's knee, not tickling or teasing, but canvassing up to cradle Edward.

Emmett reached down to touch Jasper's face, and traced a finger along the soft lips, pushing one into his mouth. Edward was transfixed by the slight penetration, Emmett's digit shining as it slid in and out of Jasper's mouth. Jasper let go of the fingers, giving them a slow suck and tickling the sensitive skin between them. He turned his head and once again, met Edward's eyes searchingly. Emmett trailed a venom-slicked finger along Edward's neck, leaving a cool line in its wake.

Edward's erection bobbed. Jasper was so quick that he caught him in his mouth.

He gasped and thrust forward unintentionally. Emmett's hands grasped his hips and kept him under control. Easy, E. Just wait.

Edward tried to relax his pulsing body as Jasper let him simply rest in his mouth. Emmett's hands lifted his shirt away and caressed his chest, then settled into the slight indentations by his hips, tracing the lowest muscles and making little zings of sensation trickle from the touches to his tip.

Another wave of pleasure washed over them when Jasper's eyes looked up, watching the hands stroke Edward's physique, and the wall that was Emmett, barely under restraint, behind him.

Jasper knew it was time, Edward had left his words and self torture behind and for once, had given himself to a sensation that was pure pleasure without thought. He ran a finger along the tenderness hanging between Edward's legs to make him jump, and pressed his forehead all the way to his abdomen.

Emmett caught the brief sag in Edward's posture and peeked down, smiling when he saw that Jasper was unleashing all his talents on him. Not one for being forgotten, Emmett ground himself against Edward's rear, pleased when there was pressure returned. The copper mess of Edward's hair fell back onto his shoulder and Emmett, shocked by his impulse, captured the offered, half open lips in his.

He's watching, E. Let's give him a show.

A muffled moan was the response as Emmett pulled Edward away from Jasper's mouth. The moan became a soft whimper. Emmett pivoted Edward around and bent him at the waist, resting his hands on the arm of the chair by the couch. Jasper watched every move with intense eyes.

Edward gasped, sensations he'd never imagined jolted his nerves and caused him to tighten and bounce his cock without a direct touch. Tanya had done what it took to make him come, reveling in her prowess, but Jasper just sat and smoldered, a bright and intense ember playing the voyeur while Emmett stroked his body everywhere but there.

Emmett kissed down Edward's back, lingering at the slight angle dipping to his tailbone. He toyed at his flanks, watching Jasper's mouth tighten and relax, almost mimicking Emmett's own motions. Emmett smirked when he noticed the blonde's hand skimming over the catch in his boxers, then pulling off the denim and soft cotton to free his movement.

Jasper slid off the couch and crawled the few feet to where Edward was by the chair, arching in Emmett's hands. A soft touch nudged Emmett aside and he simultaneously guided Edward's body to yield and open. Emmett thought that yes, indeed, Jasper was magnificent on his knees, but he knew there would be no quick release for Edward today. The blonde had not crawled, but prowled, and he knew what that meant.

Edward felt a new set of hands sliding along his sides and hips, curving over the backs of his legs and up, over his buttocks. In his mind he saw the view Jasper had and he tensed at the very thought of where the man was. He leaned into the touch, though, when he heard the sensual rumbling of Jasper's growl.

You are the instrument today, Edward.

The rumbles grew in volume as Emmett joined in, feeling reflected desire ricochet over him. He eased Edward's posture into what he knew Jasper wanted and the blonde flicked a conspiratorial smile his way.

Jasper's tongue danced over the base of Edward's spine, lips finding loose purchase and suckling the skin. His hands, free now with Emmett's help, reached underneath and cupped the trembling fruit between Edward's legs, stroking the stem. Edward shook, unable to hold the chair anymore and gripping Emmett's arms for purchase, suspended between the two men.

Pleased by Edward's powerful response, Jasper delved lower.

Sing for us, Edward.

The throaty sound was musical indeed. Edward jumped at first, then pressed back, feeling the slick tongue probe and explore his most delicate and ignored anatomy. Within moments he was desperate for a stronger sensation. Jasper lightly guided Edward's awkward bucking into a sway, lapping and sucking wetly at the obviously neglected bits. Edward's moan rose in pitch, pleading, and Jasper glanced up at Emmett.

Lean into Emmett. Was all he said as he sucked a finger into his mouth, wetting it with his glassy venom. Edward knew what he was doing, and Jasper felt the trepidation. He returned his mouth to Edward's opening and stroked the slippery digit along the stem again, then pressed lightly into the flat space, listening and feeling Edward's reaction. The moan grew deeper with want and when he pressed back again, Jasper knew he could proceed.

Another gasp of surprise, and Emmett's accompanying grunt of discomfort as Edward dug his strong pianist fingers into his arms filled the room. Edward pressed back with no hesitation until he rested on Jasper's hand. Edward felt the withdraw, and addition of another digit, taking in the fullness, holding back the shocks he felt in his cock that the men had been careful not to handle too much yet.

Finally, Jasper withdrew his hand from his body and leaned away. Emmett walked his backwards and Edward saw the devilish look when he dimly registered the sound of a plastic cap cracking open. Emmett reached down and made sure Edward was watching before stroking his own erection inches from Edward's face, noticing the hard swallow in Edward's throat.

He ran a finger along Edward's straining neck. I want that on my cock, Edward, just so you know.

The bronze spikes shivered like leaves and Emmett noticed Jasper's gaze. A flood of demand from him shook both men from their distraction, snapping their attention to the blonde pulling on Edward's hips. Emmett provided support to Edward's half-boneless body as they guided his to Jasper's lap.

Edward felt the large push at his opening and resisted out of ancient instinct. These were no fingers, but it felt so smooth, just one slight relaxation away from...

Jasper threw his head back, punching a dent into the couch cushions. Edward had fully sheathed him, pulsing in waves, tensing around his cock. He held Edward's hips, holding him still.

Emmett watched, expecting Jasper to lift Edward and plunge him back down, but he did not. Instead, Edward's body shifted forward, and Jasper pushed, then pulled him back up to his lap in a hard grind. The motion was slow, only a few inches of movement, but the tantalizing slide kept Edward in just the right place. Emmett stepped forward.

Edward's attention was jerked to the tap against his lower lip. His eyes flew open, then half closed again when Jasper's head brushed against something delicious inside him.

I'm feeling lonely, and I think you owe me one, Edward.

Emmett leaned forward and playfully nipped at Edward's lips before sucking one firmly into his mouth, almost in demonstration. He stood back up and thrust himself forward, close to Edward's parted lips.

Jasper saw the exchange through hooded slits, groaning as Emmett penetrated and was suckled. Edward was completely enraptured, jerking slightly as if coming close to the release they had tamed so carefully. Jasper stilled, allowing a calm adjustment, then began his grind again. This time Edward used the movement, rather than fighting it.

The simmering surface they had enjoyed began to boil, and Edward could hear it- the height, the strain, the release of the phrasing as there was little left to restrain the crescendo, but the thread begged to be plucked. Jasper released one hip, reaching around and guiding one of Edward's hands to the nest of copper and curling the fingers around the painfully throbbing desire there.

Take control of yourself.

Edward spread his legs wider for stability, sinking further over Jasper and starting the chain reaction. The hand that was not fisting himself flew around Emmett, digging into his backside and forcing the thick head past the back of his throat. The two bodies that filled him thrust at the same time, and Edward clamped on both of them, taking their releases. When his own came, adding to theirs, the shockwave of sound and power shattered the television screen and cracked the bay windows.

Fuck. Emmett complained. Rosie's gonna make me get it repaired.

...

The funeral had been small, but gracious. Crowds of people show up for a funeral for the young, but when the deceased is so advanced in years, the friends have passed on and extended networks are frayed… all that is left is family. There had been plenty of family, but even they were gray and faded, like so many dried petals waiting to be blown by the wind.

Edward had watched from a distance, pretending to visit another nearby grave, a small bundle of tulips in one hand and his notepad in the other. The knot of people took no note of him, except him. Her beau, lover, husband, and father of her children saw him, and with his white-crowned head, he had made the faintest of bows. Edward had frozen, not expecting to be noticed, but he bowed back and slipped off to wait. When the mourners cleared away to soothe their heartaches, Edward stepped forward and laid the flowers down, along with the tiny note.

I sought, and was found. I hold, and am held. God bless thee, little lamb.

He did not sign it. If she ever read it, she would know who it was from.

.

The concert hall was filled for the second time that day. The first had been the eight o'clock concert, and it was understood by his kind that it was for the human ticket holders who had family in the orchestra or among the choir. The second concert was strictly for those who had no concern for the time on the clock and a finer appreciation for the talents of vampiric vocal chords. Special care had to be taken, with so many of them in one place, but given the circumstances, and the family that had made the arrangements, there was little to fear.

Edward straightened the boutonnière. Red, this time, instead of white. Bella's passing a few weeks prior had put an end to the constant work on the piece he had done for the past seventy-three years. None of the humans knew the reason, or indeed that he even had waited so long for a public airing of the piece. They believed he was the creative heir to The Caravaggio Beethoven, who left behind a prodigious work before passing some years prior, leaving it all to this similarly unknown and obscure genius to finish.

Local musicians were contacted and, recognizing the rare brilliance, they jockeyed for spots in the symphony to perform the amazing piece. Vocal talents were similarly sought, and a parallel set of each were assembled from the 'other' populace.

Edward had hardly left the company of his family since that afternoon, and was introduced swiftly to the lifestyle indulged in by nearly all vampires who existed in covens. They traded and learned from each other. He smirked at the surprises Rosalie had kept waiting for him.

But now he was ready. He wished to acquaint himself with the rest of his fellows. He would not while Bella lived, wishing instead to watch her from a close distance and living vicariously through the thoughts of those around her. Her children were lovely, dark haired but light-brown eyed and sweet, sensitive creatures. All of their minds were closed to him, and he reveled in the knowledge that there would still be peace in some way, left behind after her passing.

He approached the piano to gales of applause, buffeted by adoration from the stronger minds. The human thoughts had crowded, these penetrated as surely as their teeth could, demanding.

This was the real show. He threw himself into the sounds, the emptiness yielding into rising fulfillment and passion in the strings, plucked and drawn with bows, the keys caressed then abused.

When the final notes sounded and reverberations ended, Edward stood to roars of applause. He belonged. They belonged. And they belonged to him.

---

Thank you very much!

-sfiddy and Bragi151