"Her Eyes Merry"
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Carlisle POV (the garden)
I sat and quietly watched the water fall from the samovar into the fountain pool, an unchanging rhythm that did nothing to soothe me. Looking back at the white manse that was my home, I felt oddly insignificant. A person could look at it and assume that all was well with the family; that we possessed some kind of preternatural calm. Usually that might hold true, but not now. That calm façade had been upset, and for once I had left it unsolved. I didn't know what to do. And that really, really bothered me.
My son… I hadn't seen Edward have such vigor, ever. For years on end he had been little more than a temperamental shell, showing some vague attention to the family, but always distant. I remembered him now yelling across the table at me when Jasper had made his suggestion. His passionate argument had shocked everyone, not least of all Rosalie.
All were aghast, and I guessed by now everyone had retreated off to some refuge to think, like I myself was doing. The utter pandemonium in the dining room… Well let's say I wasn't surprized we had scattered after it was over. Well, over for now.
There was still talking to be done, that was for certain. For now we were rendered manqué; just short. A final decision would have to be made, hopefully one we could all live with. There wasn't a lot of wiggle room in a situation like this. We had to protect our own interests.
I closed my eyes and put my hands in front of them. I thought hard on the question at hand: could we really trust Isabella Swan to keep her mouth shut? Sure, no one would likely believe her if she told, but better safe than sorry with the threat of the Volturi firmly in place.
You see, gracious as Marcus, Aro, and Caius may seem to be towards me, it is all a lie. They are farceurs of the greatest kind.
My family and the one like it in Denali; we are the freaks of our world. No one respects us, no one understands why we live like we do, feeding on animals and living in one place for years at a time. They just don't get why we try so hard to reject our programmed nature.
The Volturi don't understand either; they simply covet. They covet our talents. If they could ever persuade Edward, Alice, or even Jasper to join them, they would. Vegetarian or not, the Volturi know talent when they see it. And they want ours. It's like dealing with spoiled little children, except those children have the means to get what they want.
I just don't know what to do at all…
"Carlisle?"
My eyes opened. Esme was making her way towards me, relief flooding her features. "I'm right here, darling…" I called, opening my arms.
"I didn't know where you rushed off to," she conceded, falling onto my lap. I wound my arms around her stomach.
"Here," I clarified, chuckling slightly. "How is everyone?"
She shook her head mournfully. "Not good. Let's see," she continued, holding up one lily-white hand.
"Alice is organizing her closet," Esme put one finger down. "Jasper… I have no idea what he's up to, he went into the woods… Oh, don't worry," she continued, cutting me off.
"Alice said he just needs some time to cool down. Nothing will happen." Another finger went down.
"But he will come back?" I asked.
"Yes, eventually."
"The others?"
"Edward has chosen to futz around with the piano… such angry melodies he makes…. Rosalie is not even trying to talk to him; she's so upset and confused. Last I saw, she and Emmett disappeared into the garage…" Esme concluded, putting the last finger down. I took her closed fist and pressed it against my heart. She smiled wryly, and sighed.
"Probably laying waste to the automobiles, dear. She'll put them back together in time."
"Let us hope. I can only imagine what the great gossips of Forks would say if they saw Dr. Cullen walk to work," she teased.
I watched her, her eyes merry. So unaffected. I found myself craving the feel of her lips on mine, and no sooner was she kissing me herself. There was a subtle comfort in it, and I took to it readily.
Minutes later I carefully extracted myself, and gave her my conge in a simple look. She could go or stay. Entirely her choice.
Esme stood, inclining her head to the left. She looked that way for a moment, and then turned her gaze back to me. "Come with me, come into the garden." Her hand tugged at mine, beckoning me.
"Why not here?"
"Carlisle… the windows," she clarified, shooting the objects in question a very dirty glare.
"Oh… yes," I heard myself say as if from miles away. Then I too stood.
We hurried off deeper into the garden, barely glimpsing the landscape at all. The path was lit by a verdant light, effect of the sun filtering in through the overgrown shrubbery. A small gazebo was in the centre of it all, with a long bench against the wall, made comfortable by pillows and an azure throw blanket.
I unbuttoned my shirt upon reaching the terrace, and grew frustrated with the amount of buttons. It didn't help to see the lovely sway of silk as my wife's dress hit the floor. I needed to be unclothed… now.
"Want some help?" she asked, letting her cool breath fan over my face. I gazed at her, worshipping her like some old, forgotten pagan goddess. She was exquisite. I was powerless but to nod. She was far better at this than I. My shirt soon mingled in between the folds of her dress along with any other clothing we had. The smell of the wisteria overhead was intoxicating.
I pulled her to me, and kissed her senseless, feeling her soft feminine curves against my own more chiseled features. I grinded against her wetness, just teasing her now. She sighed lustfully, and tried to pull me to the bench.
"No," I told her, instead backing her up against the wall of the gazebo, where I cupped one of her full breasts in my hand, and took it in my mouth. She gasped with sudden pleasure, and tightened her grip on my shoulders.
Every breath, every sound seemed intricate, so important in our lovemaking. All the small things were the ones that mattered.
"Can I taste you?"
She nodded mutely, her eyes closed. I must be doing better than I think. Smiling, I leaned down farther, falling to my knees. I edged her legs open a little wider, and slipped two fingers in between them. I found the spot she liked, and carefully pumped my fingers in and out of her. I could feel how aroused she was, and I decided to encourage her.
"Let go love. Just let go," I murmured quietly.
She bit her lip and squirmed a little, seeking a release. I upped the tempo of my fingers, and a few seconds later, I was rewarded with the sweet juice that I licked away. She was just so delectable and elegant, my wife. How I loved her.
"I need you in me. Now," she pleaded, tugging my hand again. I stood, perfectly erect by now. I needed her too. So I laid her gently on the bench, making sure there was a pillow to support her head. My hand traced down the length of her jaw, caressing. I bent to kiss her, and adjusted myself. She was just so beautiful, her eyes merry with pleasure. And she was mine, which made it all the more better.
We both groaned as I entered her, feeling her deliciously moist sex around my own stiffer counterpart. I thrust as deep as I could, then pulled back, and repeated the motion, starting to build up a rhythym. My hands curled in her hair even as I thrust, reveling in the soft texture, and the closeness of her lips on my neck. God, she was everything!
Then came the manumit, the little death… Always the end, but oh so sweet, that le petit mort!
"Oh, love…" I kissed her hastily, feverishly. "Do I… give you enough attention? Times like this seem little and in between."
"Yes, it's fine. When we do… it's so beautiful. More so than if we made love regularly… I love you."
"I love you too." I leaned and our lips met once more. She curled like a cat beneath me, confusing our bodies even more in this tangle of limbs. I tried to get up, and failed.
"You know, you don't have to go now… Alice said Jasper won't be home until tomorrow. And we can't have a family discussion if everyone isn't present…"
"Sneaky…" I accused her, ravishing her with my eyes once more.
"That I am… that I am..." she repeated before pulling me back down to rest.