Title: Saviour in the Night
Rating: M rated. Pretty explicit stuff from here on out guys. Please note: here be lemons!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters mentioned herein. There is no infringement intended.
Author's Note: Another mention that this is Carlisle/Bella and if you don't enjoy this fandom then you won't enjoy this story!I found a great web-thingy on livejournal for Carlisle/Bella fics, called a fic-a-thon and although there aren't many archived yet, the ones I read were very good! Basically the idea is that you pick a word (from a whole bunch that the creator has chosen) and then write a CxB fic about that word. Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this chapter and will let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!
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It was raining; a misty drizzle that infiltrated even the most waterproof clothes and seeped into her skin. She had stood next to her old truck for at least twenty minutes staring up at the house that provoked so many painful memories in her mind. So much heartache and so much torment had begun and ended inside those glass walls. It was in this house that Jasper had lost control of his reins and had tried to attack her. It was also within those walls that Carlisle had stitched the gaping wound in her arm, wrestling with his own desire for her blood. Wrestling with his own desire for her, simply.
His Mercedes was parked at the side of the house and although this was a certain indication that he was at home, she found that she was quite unable to find the courage to move forward. It had taken many attempts before she had skipped the last three afternoon classes at school to come here at all, and now that she stood before the home once inhibited by all the Cullens, she felt rigid with fear. Trepidation.
Trepidation mostly because she knew in her heart why she had come at all, even if she hadn't fully allowed herself to admit it. She hadn't sleep the night before. Her eyes had scanned the darkness in the vain hope that he might return to watch over her, but it seemed that the turn of events that had transpired last night had left Carlisle with a need to be alone. She feared that he might have tortured himself senseless in solitary reflection up in these mountains.
As the cold soaked into her bones, she trembled. The house was shrouded in misty clouds and drizzly rain as she gazed up at it. Go home, Bella. The voice had been nagging the back of her mind all day, intensifying when she had turned down a chance to visit Jacob in favour of coming here, alone, into the lair of a vampire. A hungry vampire – and not just for blood.
When she turned back towards her truck, deciding to flee for her sanity and her decency, she barely contained the startled cry of surprise that rose in her throat at the sight of Carlisle standing behind her – so close that his body radiated a chill against hers. How had she not noticed his approach? Had he looked this handsome last night?
"Hello, Bella." She smiled wanly and held his scarf out, as though offering him a gift. The thick multi-tonal wool in dark greens and muted browns had been held to her nose all night. She was sure the scent of him had been stripped from the material hours ago, and yet she still mourned the loss of it when he graciously accepted it. "You came all the way here to return my scarf?" he asked with a hint of amusement twinkling through the sobriety of his golden eyes. He was soaked, too, the pale blue shirt he wore pasted to every line and curve of his ropey muscles. Bella found that her breath didn't quite reach her lungs. Had she ever desired anyone as much as she did him?
"You know that's not why," she replied, harder than she intended. "Better than that, you know why I am here." The amusement burned out and only the darkened lust remained in his irises. He looked as though he needed to hunt and Bella felt a delicious slither of anticipation in wondering, not without a hint of eroticism, whether she would be his prey. "Carlisle... I haven't been able to stop... thinking..." emotion caught in her throat; that relentless confusion and abhorrent guilt. "About you." He blinked slowly in response to this, his eyes lingering on her face for a second too long. His papery-white skin stretched across his knuckles as he clenched the scarf in his hand, bones only slightly paler than the flesh that covered them, almost visible.
A raindrop dripped off his arched prominent brow unto his cheek and Bella was fascinated by the trickle of water on his ivory skin – like a teardrop that he would never again cry. He looked human... as though his soul now existed in the same time and space that his physical being did. He wasn't the three-hundred year-old creature of supposed damnation, but a young man wrestling with something real and viable and difficult.
"And neither have I," he told her. "What are we doing, Bella?" The question struck a chord in her mind. Carlisle had always been the voice of reason. When her life had been threatened by James, it had been his logical thinking and clear headedness that had won through – that had organised the family and ensured her safety. When Jasper had lost his control on his bloodthirsty appetite it had been Carlisle who had attended to her, who had asked the family to leave the room – including Edward. She felt somehow panicked now that even he had ceased to have a handle on logic and sanity.
"Dancing around the inevitable."
There. She had said it – and it was the most courageous and terrifying words she had ever spoken. She was opening her heart to vulnerability, to being broken again by a fickle vampire with misguided conceptions. Like Edward.
Edward left you, she reminded herself firmly. Carlisle came back. Still, none of these insistences changed the fact that she could so easily end up back in the void. Empty and alone, praying for relief from her agony.
"Come inside, Bella." Strength had returned to his voice and the relief she felt was paramount. Carlisle would take the lead, as he always did and she would let him. In this instance – 'the inevitable' – she would have to permit him the lead because she was inexperienced and terrified by it.
She told herself not to think about the memories buried in the walls of the house. It looked different now, without mementos of the Cullen family in every corner. Some things remained, but there was an emptiness to the rooms. The wooden cross had gone from the bottom of the stairs and the cloying scent of a thousand flowers had been replaced by musty disuse. The grand piano, smashed to smithereens on her last visit to this house, had been disposed of and although the furniture remained in the living room, the space that was formerly occupied by its imposing greatness seemed vast.
Resting in the corner of the room a glossy cello took its place, the slender bow tilted against the glorious wooden body. She could somehow imagine Carlisle's slender fingers playing the strings and making incredible music, the swells rising and falling in the confines of the forlorn home. He would play deeply melancholy music, she believed. Feeding the hunger of his guilt and torment.
She became aware of the insistent dripping of their wet bodies on the resin floor and the fluttering of her heartbeat when his cold fingers slid into the collar of her coat and drew it down her shoulders.
"Come to my study... it's warmer there." Why it mattered to Carlisle how warm the house was, Bella did not know. Any amount of warmth would mean nothing to a man whose skin felt like ice, but without word or objection she followed him up the winding staircase and along the narrow hallway to the familiar door. Only a few steps away was Edward's former room – the placed filled with books and music, the glass door that led to nothing but a significant fall, unless you were a vampire who could leap unimaginable distances to the trees beyond.
It surprised her to realise that the sight of the closed door didn't hurt as much as she thought it would. The rawness was healing and Bella wasn't naive enough to believe if was anything other than Carlisle who had brought her back from the brink. That first night he had decided to sit in her room and watch over her and all the nights that followed until she had turned on her lamp and found him there had been the brewing of a tonic that had soothed her tender soul.
His study hadn't changed; the same books and photographs and paintings, candle sticks and fire-place with the heavy oak desk and papers stacked neatly and organised. It hinted that Carlisle had always anticipated his return, even if his family opted to stay... wherever they were.
Healthy flames licked the hearth and filled the room with an oppressive warmth that stifled the damp coldness outside. Perhaps Carlisle found comfort in the crackling of the coals as they burned, or the pleasant glow that broke through the unfathomable darkness of the surrounding forest at night time. How lonely he must be up here after so many years in company.
"Do sit by the fire," he encouraged as he unbuttoned the shirt he wore. Bella's mouth went dry at the sight of him, ivory pale and glorious – like a sleek Italian sculpture – with taut muscles that flexed when he twisted to slip the shirt off entirely. His slim hips and tight abdominals were refined with the sort of perfection that only a non-human could possess. Turning his back toward her, Bella's eyes trailed along the delicate curve of his spine, the subtle indentation and up again to the broad sweep of his hard shoulders. His silvery damp hair curled at the nape of his neck and she fought with the near overwhelming desire to press her lips against the smooth, exposed flesh in all its glory. "I will get you a towel," he was saying.
"No..." her voice croaked and he turned, surprised. Between her thighs the pulsating throb had returned and she felt lightheaded at the strength of her own desire. "Just come here, Carlisle." His lips tightened to a thin line – internal debating and insecurity – before he tossed the soaked shirt aside and crossed the study to stand before her, where she knelt on the shag rug in front of the fire. His navel, and the baby-fine blond hairs there, were positioned before her ravenous eyes and she experienced the same lustful desire that had crazed her the night before. When her fingertips brushed over the hills and valleys of his muscles, Carlisle sucked a warning breath into his lungs that tightened his stomach further. Bella was sure that her mouth was actually watering now – hungry... ravenous, in fact.
She toyed with his belt buckle, taking her time for fear of the moment passing too fast. How much she wanted every second of this experience to be burned into her memory for eternity and then beyond. A ragged growl rose in his chest when her wrist brushed against his erection which strained within the confines of his smart wool pants. "Don't torment me, Bella..." he begged in a breathy whisper. "You can't understand how many times I have..." His long lashes fluttered and the golden honey of his eyes darkened when she boldly cupped his shaft in her hand. "Oh... God..." his fingers wrapped around her arms , digging into her flesh with enough force to hurt and bruise.
Bella fumbled awkwardly with his belt, undoing the buckle after two attempts while he gazed down at her with something that went beyond mere carnal desire glinting in his eye. Tenderly, he tucked a strand of saturated hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek, smoothing his thumb across her brow. "I'm sorry..." she apologised weakly, a fiery blush rising to her cheeks. "I've never done anything like this before..." Carlisle tipped her chin, urging her to meet his eyes despite her obvious reluctance.
"You don't have to do anything to impress me, Bella," he promised her with a watery edge to his tone. The blush deepened. "How can you trust that I won't lose control with you?" he asked and she closed her eyes, picturing how that scenario might play out. Wild frenzy, biting, pain, euphoria, unattainable oneness with a person who evoked such inhibition in her.
"I don't care if you do," she admitted truthfully and Carlisle seemed to find this desirable, for he growled, low and feral before sinking to his knees and capturing her lips in a hard, angry kiss. Bella moaned against his cold mouth, his buckle forgotten as her arms wound around his neck and her fingers into the spun-silk softness of his hair. Her body arched towards him and his strong hands captured her buttocks firmly, hefting her closer, plastering their bodies together as though he endeavoured to join them entirely.
"Are you going to make love to me, Carlisle?" she murmured against his lips as his tongue so expertly caressed the edges of her mouth, eliciting a shuddering moan of pleasure from deep in her throat. His fingers kneaded her flesh while his erection pressed firmly between her thighs. Her heart thumped with involuntary palpitations when his tongue met hers... how good he tasted.
"Yes," he sighed with that slightly lilting accent that seemed to arise when during times of great emotion. "I'm going to make love to you, Bella." They crumpled together on the rug, mouths tasting and tongues exploring to the symphony of muted sighs and pleasured moans. His slender fingers flicked each pearly button on her old flannel shirt with such painstaking slowness that Bella thought she might lose control of her patience. When he parted the folds, leaning back to admire her exposed flesh through hazy golden eyes, she wished she owned bras more alluring than the simple white lace that she had donned that morning. A vixen she was not, but Carlisle seemed not to care as he lowered his mouth to the swell of her breast, peppering cold kisses to her soft flesh. A tremor took control of her body at the sensation and her nipples hardened at once, despite the warmth of the fire to her right.
She stroked his hair, the hard and strong angles of his face while breathlessly anticipating the moment when his wet lips would nudge aside the scrap of lace and take her pebbled nipple into his mouth. He was adept at the art of sweet torture, for Carlisle seemed to relish her pleas and the wriggling of her body. Spreading his fingers across her flat, soft belly he held her firmly against the floor, wincing against the curve of her breast when she tugged hard at the strands of hair clutched between her fingers.
"Play nice, sweet Bella," he murmured against her breast, nipping the sensitive skin enticingly between his teeth. His tongue stroked the inflicted spot and her hips rose, her arousal peaking before he had truly touched her. Bella mewled when he laved at her painfully tight nipple through the lace, the fabric only adding to the sensory overload. When his fingers edged the cup of her bra aside and his mouth enveloped the tender bud in a hard, urgent suckle, it took very ounce of her restraint not to cry out. Nothing had ever felt this good, of that she was certain.
Reaching between their bodies, her fingers, with surprising dexterity, located his zipper without difficulty. Carlisle froze, his mouth pressed against her breast as she slipped her fingers into his pants and wrapped her fingers around his impressive shaft. A prickle of apprehension invaded the passion-fogged frenzy of her mind; would she be able to accommodate him? How badly would it hurt?
He bucked into her hand, snapping her reverie and suddenly her concerns didn't matter. Slowly at first, she slid her hand over the length of him to where a cool drop of pearly arousal had formed at the smooth tip. Releasing her breast, Carlisle groaned... a sound that she had never heard before. I arouse him... she thought with growing satisfaction. Somehow it made the fire in her belly cultivate in knowing that the rigidness between her fingers was directly attributable to her.
She wished to see him in naked glory; the entirety of his godlike form. He seemed to understand this and helped her to remove the remainder of his clothes while she drank his beauty into her mind. Crisp blond hair, thick thighs, taut muscles and wiry strength... and he wanted her. She trembled visibly as he knelt before her, tensing when her fingers inched their way along his thigh.
His own fingers unbuttoned her jeans, easing the denim and her underwear over her thighs before relieving her of the lacy bra that she had been so wholly unimpressed with. It didn't matter now that she was entirely naked before him, exposed emotionally and physically as she never had been before. The lust in his eyes increased tenfold as he trailed his long fingers over her abdomen to the wiry curls at the apex of her thighs. When his gaze finally returned to her face, Carlisle looked as though he'd found redemption.
"Bella..." he sighed with bated breath, "you are exquisite." Her fingers wrapped around him again and his head fell back, a pained groan forming on his lips. "And I think you just discovered a new way to kill a vampire... oh please... Bella." She wanted to taste him, to feel the silky hardness between her lips and inside her mouth but she sensed an urgency between them that wouldn't permit such languid exploration. Another time, she promised herself.
"I need to feel you..."she whispered. "Please." The meaning of her plea was understood and he knelt over her, gently nudging apart her thighs and inhaling the scent of her arousal. She flushed with embarrassment as he looked down at her, at the glistening moisture on her skin and the evidence of just how much she desired him. His thumb reached down to gently circle the impossibly sensitive nub between her legs and she cried out, an unexpected sound that was strangled and needy. Carlisle smiled at this, his fingers slipping between her slick folds to explore the molten warmth. Bella stiffened as he eased two fingers inside her body, her walls offering resistance against the intrusion.
"You're so tight..." he murmured approvingly. She blushed hotly.
"I know... I've never..." Carlisle nodded, stroking her hair gently, soothingly, comfortingly.
"And so wet, Bella..." these words were spoken in gravelly tones that conveyed the depth of his awe. Her insides quivered, soaking his fingers. Her breathing was unsteady, her heartbeat thundering a wild staccato in her chest.
"It's you... I can't help it..." Tears prickled the corner of her eyes, tender emotion washing over her as Carlisle removed his fingers and slid forward, nudging her opening with the tip of his thick shaft.
"No... you mustn't help it, Bella. It's divine... perfect." She was tense when his hips thrust forward gently, stretching her wider than she imagined it were possible. "Don't be afraid... I won't hurt you. Tell me that you want this... promise me." A single tear escaped her eye and rolled along her temple.
"I promise you that I want this. I need it... please..." Oddly she felt no pain as he moved slowly until he was buried inside her body, ensconced by her warm, wet walls. For what felt like an eternity they lay like this, immobile, familiarising themselves with the sensation of the other's body. He hard and cold, she soft and warm. Perfect opposites, conjoined by desire, passion and necessity.
He took her hand and placed her fingertips on the slick bud between them. "Touch yourself..." he urged against her ear, pressing a kiss against her temple where the tear had escaped, leaving a salty trail. She sighed when his hips slid back, then forward, burying himself inside her once more. Obeying his command she traced gentle circles across her clitoris, following the lead of his rhythm, increasing the pace only under the guidance of his thrusting hips.
Nothing had felt so good as having him inside her, claiming her body as his own. She offered her throat to his mouth, her pace quickening to match the growing frenzy of his. His teeth nibbled torturously at her neck, his tongue laving her throat as he toyed with his self control. "Bite me..." she commanded, a coiling warmth increasing in her belly. The tight circling of her fingers sparkled the embers of her desire while his hard, fulfilling thrusts into the depths of her body made her certain that she couldn't control the growing orgasm that built inside her womb.
"I can't..." he murmured, pained. "I'll lose control, Bella... I'll... hurt you." Kill her, possibly. The taste of her blood could send him into a crazed fury that only draining her would cure. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him as far into her as possible.
"Please... just a little..." His teeth pressed harder against the fleshy tissue of her neck, his tongue touching her thundering pulse, her delicious scent filling his nose. The harder he pressed, the more attainable her orgasm was. She felt the wrought tension in the muscles of his back, her nails digging urgently into the hard flesh, a harsh moan rising in her gut at his furious thrusts. "A little more..." Why she wanted him to bite her, Bella did not understand. The pure eroticism of having him claim her entirely, perhaps. She wasn't afraid of death, or the danger of an out-of-control vampire.
"I can't," he insisted, entirely agonised by her demands, his voice muffled against her throat. She sensed that he too bordered on the verge of ecstasy, his thrusts faster and harder, almost hurting. Almost.
"Now!" she cried and despite his reservations, Carlisle complied, sinking his teeth into her neck while her orgasm rocked through her body, claiming her in its fiery, blinding grasp. She cried out, her eyes flying open to witness not the ceiling above her head, but flecks of bright white and things she couldn't fathom. Her muscles tightened and trembled, contracted around his shaft as he pumped feebly into her thrice more, spilling his cold, sticky seed inside her.
"Oh my lovely Bella... Bella... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." he breathed against the circular mark he'd left on her throat. Slumped on top of her, riding out the aftershocks of her orgasm, he might have sobbed had be been capable of it. Her arms folded around him, hands sinking into his hair as she soothed him. "Forgive me..." His lips brushed the raw mark, over and over as though the gesture might heal her.
"Shush..." she sighed, her limbs as loose and weak as spaghetti. "It was perfect... you did it just right." Just perfect. The pain she felt, between her legs, on her neck, were deliciously satisfying and although she had no point of reference, Bella didn't believe that making love could have been any better. "I wish you were capable of sleeping..." she murmured groggily against his hair. He lifted his head, shifting to remove himself from inside of her while cradling her in the nook of his arm. She settled there, wondering at how perfectly they seemed to fit. How she had tried to ignore it for too long and now... now there seemed little point.
"Lying here with you is the closest I have got to humanity in three centuries, Bella. Please don't worry about me... you sleep now." Outside the rain was heavier, pelting against the window relentlessly while beside her the fire crackled merrily. She shifted closer, burying her nose in the hard lines of his chest.
"I'm stained by you..." she whispered, only half awake. "I can smell you... on me." He smiled against her forehead, pressing a tender kiss there. "Don't leave me, Carlisle..." The happiness in his soul was vacuumed into a black void and his smile faded, his arms tightening instinctively around her slender, vulnerable body.
"Never, my Bella..." he promised. Her breathing slowed and she slept.
-End-
There's two ways this can go, leave it here or continue with Edward arriving to discover that 'his' Bella had been claimed by (in my opinion) an altogether more suitable companion. Please do let me know and please tell me if you enjoyed this as it is now 1am and I have worked so hard at creating what I hoped was a sensual scene between Bella and Carlisle.
Thanks for reading! Goodnight! Pereybere x