A/N: To anyone who's worried (or hopeful, dirty skanks) this will turn into a BDSM story... No. It was just a dream. The boys have a lot of control issues going on.


It was late before Carlisle got back home.

He was so bone weary. It felt like he hadn't slept in years instead of days.

It was just that he hadn't stopped running, it seemed. There was the crisis of Samantha's birth, the end stages of Esme's illness, Esme's death, and now this again. Carlisle felt pummelled - his body battered and bruised.

With Charlie and Renee's help, he'd convinced Edward and Bella to go home, get a little sleep, and get cleaned up. They did it on the condition Samantha would never be without someone familiar.

Renee and her husband, Phil, having gotten the most sleep of all of them volunteered to stay the night. Carlisle had followed Edward and Bella home, made them tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, which they hardly touched, and stayed long enough to prepare a breakfast they likely wouldn't eat.

All he really wanted to do was get a little sleep before the cycle began all over again.

The way things were going, he shouldn't have been surprised when Jasper was in his face before the door closed behind him.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Carlisle considered answering, but Jasper didn't seem to really want to know as he was talking again in an instant. "I thought you had today off?"

"You know my schedule?" The oddest things stuck out to Carlisle now.

For an instant, Jasper seemed flustered, his cheeks tinting pink. "What the fuck ever. We need to talk about this whole public defender situation because that shit's not going to fly at all."

Taking a deep breath, Carlisle counted to ten before he moved. Then, squaring his shoulders, he shoved by Jasper, intent on the stairs. "I'm going to bed," he said by way of explanation.

"Hey! No you're not." Jasper grabbed him by the arm, yanking him forward. Stumbling, Carlisle held his hand out to stop his fall. He found his palm flat on Jasper's bare chest.

Of course he'd noticed the other man wasn't wearing a shirt. Like Carlisle, Jasper almost never slept with a shirt. This wasn't new.

Both men froze - Jasper's hand gripped tight around Carlisle's arm, Carlisle's hand on Jasper's chest, their eyes caught in a stare.

Carlisle wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling. The stress of the last couple of days had him on edge. His every emotion felt raw, his psyche stripped bare.

There were so many walls he'd carefully cultivated, so much of his past he was trying to outrun, and this ridiculous man brought it all to the surface. It made Carlisle furious because why now? Why, when he had so much else to deal with? He was too taxed to keep his cool.

He wanted...

Images of that morning ran through his head, and he remembered the younger man's body pinned beneath him, remembered the feel of his lips, the taste of him.

Quickly, Carlisle wrested his arm away and took a step back. "I'm going to bed," he repeated, his tone low.

Jasper's lips turned down in a sneer. "Tell me something." He took a step forward, swallowing the space Carlisle tried to put between them. "Are you going to think of me when you touch yourself tonight?"

Caught off guard by the question, Carlisle merely gaped at the other man.

Jasper snickered. "Yeah, I thought so. Fucking pervert." He took another step forward, chest to chest with Carlisle now. "How long have you been having these perverted thoughts of me, hmm?" He leaned in closer, his lips near Carlisle's ear. "Did Mom know?"

Rage boiled hot in Carlisle's veins, and his hand shot out before he knew he'd moved. He grabbed Jasper's hair in his fist and yanked his head back hard enough that the younger man couldn't stifle his cry quick enough.

"I. Am. Going. To. Bed."

This time, Carlisle didn't even recognize his own voice. The man who spoke was dangerous.

He let go of Jasper, using his upper body strength to shove him out of the way as he headed for the stairs.

~0~

Only a very few hours later, Carlisle was awake again. His head was chaotic, rendering him unable to rest. But he was a doctor. He'd known too few hours of sleep and stressful situations before.

He showered and had the presence of mind to shave, noticing vaguely how haggard his reflection looked. A deep ache in his stomach alerted him to the fact that despite his lectures to Edward and Bella that they take care of themselves, he'd neglected his own health. When was the last time he'd eaten?

To that end, he forced down a little toast and fruit before he was out the door, headed for the hospital.

He was relieved to find only Charlie in Samantha's room.

"How are you doing?" he asked the older man kindly, though it was probably a stupid question. Charlie's typically clean shaven - save for the moustache - face had a few days growth of beard.

He huffed. "As can be expected, I guess. Wondering how different this would all be if I'd just taken her myself like I was supposed to." Seeing the look on Carlisle's face, he held up a hand to stop the inevitable solace. "I know. Believe me, I know. It's all random moments in time, and it's no one's fault." His voice was gruff as he spoke, heavy with emotion he wouldn't let himself show. "Doesn't stop me from wishing. My best friend's son is dead, and my granddaughter is dying. What do I have but wishes?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Carlisle picked up Samantha's limp arm, carefully running his fingers over her skin, remembering how ticklish she was typically.

What he wouldn't give to hear her giggle again.

"What about you? How are you doing?"

That was a loaded question if ever Carlisle had heard one.

He made small talk, skirting the truth because, for one thing, it was unfair for him to consider laying all his heavy thoughts on Charlie's already overburdened shoulders. For another...

Well.

It took another half an hour for Charlie to concede to Carlisle's suggestion he get some rest.

Then it was just him and Samantha.

As a doctor, Carlisle could examine her charts and see the improvement in her numbers. It gave him some measure of comfort, a silver string of hope. Her skin seemed less gray, but he knew from experience grieving families looked anywhere for assurance. There were no guarantees.

Carlisle found a kind of zen in the steady snap-hiss of the breathing machine and the persistent beeps of the other equipment keeping his niece alive. He zoned out a little, letting his chaotic thoughts coalesce and attack him one by one.

More than anything, he missed Esme, though not for the reasons most would have likely expected.

The nature of her disease had left them stunted in their physical relationship. Yes, they'd had sex - communicated with their bodies their devotion and admiration - but their connection was much more an understanding of each other's souls than an attraction to each other's bodies.

Esme was the only person in Carlisle's life, save perhaps his brother, who accepted and loved him unconditionally for everything he was. She was the only one who'd ever known Carlisle's accidental secret.

Before Esme, he'd all but forgotten his sexuality existed. He worked hard through college and medical school, keeping his nose in his books. Then came the whirlwind of his residency.

That was when he'd met Esme, when she came rushing into the ER after Jasper fell from the bleachers, shattering his leg when he was in high school.

He'd never met another soul so entirely, earnestly sweet. She was concerned for her son but when she asked Carlisle why he looked so tired, it was clear she wasn't asking just to be polite. She really wanted to know.

Esme was also the only person he'd ever told the whole truth about his past to.

It wasn't that he was ashamed. Well, he was ashamed at the person he was when he'd been angry all the time, but that was not the part of his past he'd kept hidden.

What he knew, what he'd come to accept was that his father was an abusive asshole plain and simple. What he'd learned through therapy and years of self reflection was that no matter who he was, what he did, it was likely he never would have been able to please his father.

Still, it had occurred to Carlisle that his psyche was well aware of the straw that broke the camel's back, the one event that had led to the last beating he'd ever taken and the last time he saw his father alive.

Once upon a time, when he was a teenager, Carlisle hadn't been so indifferent to sex. Like most teenagers, it was on his mind constantly.

His senior year of high school, he met a shy, somewhat strange foreign exchange student named Alistair Lewis. He was a jumpy boy with scraggly dark blond hair and always anxious blue eyes.

That was the year Carlisle figured out that gender played no roll in whom he was attracted to. Just as he'd enjoyed the encounters he'd had with the female race, the time he spent with Alistair was nice... really good.

In fact, it was his most significant relationship to that point until his father walked in on them.

Carlisle was no stranger to his father's fury, but that night was far and away the worst.

It was almost dawn the next day before Carlisle stumbled, dazed, bruised and bloodied, to his Uncle Aro's house. The man took him in, cleaned him up, but never told him how wrong his father was.

Esme was the only one who'd ever said those words: that Anthony Cullen was an asshole and Carlisle hadn't done anything wrong.

And though he wasn't ashamed that he was attracted to people without preference of gender, Carlisle had, over time, tucked his natural human lust away with his anger, preferring not to deal with it. It wasn't a conscious decision he made. He simply threw himself into other areas of his life: his job, his brother.

Now, though, how could Carlisle help but acknowledge the stirring in him? Yes, Jasper infuriated and frustrated him, but that didn't account for the overtly sexual nature of their interactions of late.

He wasn't blind. He was well aware of how attractive the younger man was. Living in the same house with him for so many years, it was impossible not to notice.

Jasper had a smile that did things to Carlisle's heart rate. He had a body that seemed made to touch - smooth and hard in the right places. His voice was that scratchy, sexy musical type that seemed like it would be as sensual and seductive as a caress in the right circumstance.

But why now? What had changed, and when did that change start? Jasper had always been mildly infuriating, and they'd never been friends.

Why was everything between them so intense now?

Possibly more importantly, what was he supposed to do about it?

One thing Carlisle knew, he couldn't continue down this road. He was entirely out of control when it came to the younger man. He was going to end up punching him or...

Or...

Or something else. Something he'd regret. Not because Jasper was a man, but because Carlisle felt strangely like his entire world - his entire self - was about to come crashing down around him. Melodramatic as it sounded, that's what it felt like. He'd cultivated an image of himself he actually took pride in, and Jasper was threatening to destroy it.

Whatever was going on between them wasn't pretty. It was bewildering and maddening.

And Jesus Christ, how was he supposed to come to terms with it, get his head back on straight when his every thought should have been centered on Samantha, Edward, and Bella?

Guiltily, Carlisle reached forward with trembling fingers to brush a tiny wisp of limp hair back away from Sammy's face.

Esme would know the right thing to say to make him feel better. She would probably know exactly what to do, as well.

Then again, maybe this was the one situation she wouldn't have been able to advise him on. After all, Jasper was her son.

Carlisle shook his head hard, trying to dispel the tightness in his chest.

One way or another, he promised himself he wasn't going to hurt Esme's son, no matter how much the man-child was pushing him to do so.

~0~

Of course, it was always easier said than done when Carlisle was away from Jasper.

Back in the house later that afternoon, Carlisle was determined to get through the afternoon, to do whatever he needed to do to get Jasper off his back for a few days at least.

Ignoring Jasper's snipes, Carlisle sat down with him at the kitchen table. Jasper wanted a real lawyer, not the court appointed public defender.

"Jasper, you have no bills and you've had a job on campus the last few semesters, haven't you?"

"What about it?"

Carlisle counted to ten in his head before he answered. "That's what money is for. If you want to hire an attorney, that's your prerogative. You don't need to wait for me to make an obvious decision."

The other man stared at him as if he had a third eye growing out of his forehead. He scoffed. "I don't have that kind of money."

"What have you been doing with the money you've earned-"

"Like that's any of your g'damn business."

"You're making it my business. You're 21, not 16. Are you telling me you've been working for nearly two years and you have absolutely nothing to show for it?"

This went on for a few more minutes until Carlisle's head ached. "Fine," he said finally. "But you need to take some responsibility for your life. If you think I have some type of intention of floating you along, you are sorely mistaken."

"Get the fuck over yourself," Jasper snapped. "I'm not asking for any more than my mother would have given me. Or have you forgotten about her again? I know it must be easy for you-"

Carlisle brought his hand down flat in the table, the sound so loud Jasper actually jumped.

For a long moment, Carlisle's body was tensed. He'd gone from irritated and annoyed to completely furious in less than a second.

Slowly, he leaned across the table, getting right in Jasper's face. "You have no idea what you're talking about, little boy. You have no idea what your mother was to me. You need to keep your mouth shut until you can act like a respectful human being. You aren't the only one who lost her."

Jasper's eyes were furious, his breath coming so hard his shoulders shook. He looked as dangerous as Carlisle felt, but he didn't pounce.

It took every ounce of the self control Carlisle had left, but when he moved again, he only pushed back from the table, standing up. "Don't think I don't see what this is," he said slowly, trying to find his calm again. "I know you're hurting. I know that's what this is all about. Aggravated assault, Jasper? There are better ways to deal with what you're going through."

The look on Jasper's face twisted into something completely sinister and furious. "You don't know shit about me, asshole." As he spoke, he closed the distance between them, getting up in Carlisle's face, fully intending on being menacing.

"Try it," Carlisle said evenly. His heart was pounding and his fists were clenched. "Just try it, if you think this is the solution to your problems."

Jasper's nostrils were flaring like a bull about to charge, but he didn't move.

"I'm going to my room." Carlisle was amazed his voice was still so steady. His eyes were concentrated on the furious line of Jasper's lips, and he knew what he wanted - what he couldn't let himself take. "When you're ready to act like an adult, let me know."

He turned then and walked away. At least, he tried.

Jasper followed him.

Carlisle spun, putting his hand out, finding Jasper in his immediate bubble space. "Back off." He took a step back.

Jasper took a step forward.

"Back. Off," Carlisle warned again. His voice was a growl.

Jasper's eyes travelled down his body and he scoffed. "You're getting off on this," he accused.

It hadn't escaped Carlisle's notice that he was hard, and it was obvious. Honestly, it was putting a frantic edge to his anger.

Fight or flight. His heart beat an ever increasing tattoo against his ribs, pumping adrenaline through his blood. "Back. Off," he demanded again.

Jasper stepped closer until he was nose to nose with Carlisle. "Fucking make me, pervert."

And Carlisle snapped.

If he was being honest with himself, he'd known he was going to the minute he walked in the door.

Though he prided himself in his control, having succumbed to his instinctive, primitive urges once, tasting what the pure, raw sense of power could feel like, it was difficult not to crave it. Especially now when he was so powerless in every other area of his life.

And here was this infuriating child, this man who should know better, but stretched Carlisle's usually unerring patience taut. He did it with a smirk and a swagger that got under Carlisle's skin, because how could he not understand the order of the world? Why did he think he was special, different?

And why did Carlisle feel the absolute need to physically show him the error of his ways? That he could be bested, and he would be bested.

When he yanked his arm back, turning to glare, Jasper's eyes were hard and challenging, and Carlisle felt not unlike a lion circling, tensed and ready to defend his territory.

He did pounce, but that oddly heady air that seemed to surround them changed the direction of his attack, used all the same muscles and brute strength for a purpose other than to destroy.

After all, there were many ways to best an opponent.

Flying forward, Carlisle grabbed Jasper's shirt in both his fists, shoving him backward and pinning him hard against the wall. He knew his kiss was rough, hard, dominating... demanding respect and submission - concession of who was the superior in their particular relationship.

Though he gave a strangled moan of surprise muffled between their lips, Jasper wasn't about to make it easy on Carlisle this time. He pushed back, coming up off the wall so they were chest to chest. His mouth, moving with Carlisle's, insisted he would not be bowed or conquered without a fight.

Their bruising kisses only fueled the primal fire inside Carlisle.

He'd long held on to the age old adage that it was not whether one won or lost, but how they played the game. He was competitive but also a good sport, and gracious whether he won or lost.

But by God, he was going to win this particular game.

Snaking his hand up into Jasper's hair, he gripped hard. Hard enough that Jasper broke their kiss with a pained gasp. Still, Carlisle didn't let him go. If anything, the small admission of pain only added fuel to the fire.

He wanted him bowed.

He wanted him conquered.

Carlisle yanked hard, forcing Jasper's head back, and then he sunk his teeth right into the sweet space where his neck met his shoulders. He locked his lips around the flesh and sucked.

Jasper made a whining sound at the back of his throat but didn't try to push him off. His hands were fists in Carlisle's shirt, pulling the fabric against his body as if he was seconds away from ripping it off entirely.

Carlisle had never felt so absolutely feral in his life, tasting the other man's skin, knowing he was marking him.

Slowly, the tension drained from Jasper's body.

He was submitting. He wasn't fighting.

Victory tasted sweet.

But he should have known it wouldn't be that simple.

God only knew what he would have done. He released his grip on Jasper's hair and lifted his head from his neck. His other arm was wrapped around the younger man, hand against his back, holding him pinned against his chest. There was absolutely no rational thought in his mind, just the need to consume and conquer. To mark his territory and prove his dominance once and for all.

Jasper's eyes were on him, intense, with that touch of fear that Carlisle actually wanted to see in that moment in time. But all at once, his expression hardened. He loosed one hand from Carlisle's shirt, travelling quickly down his body between them and cupping Carlisle roughly between his legs.

Carlisle's gasp was ragged.

Jasper squeezed, finding that pressure that was right on the edge of pleasure and pain.

And then it was Carlisle who was being walked backward, Jasper pushing forward even as he tried to shrink away. He ran out of room, his back up against a wall and Jasper was still coming forward.

Nose to nose.

His hand pressed against him.

Carlisle knew he should have stopped him. The words were caught on his tongue. But he didn't speak.

Jasper claimed his lips, kissing him hard, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and biting.

Now it was Carlisle who whimpered.

And groaned into the younger man's mouth as Jasper began to rub him through his pants.

Every forbidden image, from his dominating dream to the little glimpses he'd had of Jasper over the years - his bare chest, his broad smile - assaulted Carlisle at once. He was powerless to fight against the pull, powerless to do anything but return the other man's kisses, bucking his hips against his hand.

He was absolutely wild in this man's presence, furious that Jasper had this power over him. He tried to push Jasper off him at the same time his lips wouldn't let him go. Jasper only pushed back, his mouth demanding, his fingers tightening over Carlisle's length.

Carlisle's guttural scream as he came was muffled against Jasper's mouth.

For a long, pregnant moment, the two men only stared at each other, anger draining from their eyes and their limbs sagging. Blinking, his eyes suddenly as wide as a much younger boy's, Jasper stumbled away from him.

Swallowing hard, Carlisle turned without a word and headed for the sanctuary of his room.


A/N: Super thanks to Naeleny for being awesome and betaing this for me. I'm a spoiled brat, no two ways about it. And thanks to Mina Rivera who made me a gorgeous banner for this story and several of my others. They're up on AO3. I love my banners so much.

So. How we doin' out there, kids?