A/N: well WHO SAW THIS COMING? not me nuh uh im a child of god first and foremost and he just wanted me to let you all know that sometimes heterosexuals can actually be really cute and hot. This isn't beta read and i've only read it over a couple times but i know you guys were real nice about my carlesme depravity on tumblr that i wanted to give yall some more
if you're not here from tumblr, feel free to follow me spanishinfluenza
There was a warmth about the small hours of the morning that had little to do with the temperature. The still quiet filtered sound and smell through a grainy and crumpled softness. The quality of the air reminded her of a paper note washed too many times in the pocket of Carlisle's trousers – softened by the water, inked lines bled of their sharpness and the fibrous layers pulled outward until it, like the air tonight, was velveteen to touch. Early morning lay gently against her skin in much the same way the gramophone they had bought in 1925 had goaded music into her ears: sensory input filtered first through peace.
With eyelids closed, Esme submitted herself to the cool darkness of the pre-dawn, listening absently to the steady hum of her children's voices from the living room two floors below.
She stole a deeper breath, her chest expanding to press her breasts more firmly to the side of Carlisle's bare chest. All conscious thought left her upon the exhale, and she smiled to herself at his crowding embrace. Clothed in his shirt, under his covers, pressed closed to him: ninety years did little to settle the butterflies that wreaked havoc in her stomach at the mere thought. She opened her eyes slowly to steal a peak at him from where she lay, curled into his side.
The heavy dark of night was so kind to his face, embracing the sharpness of his features with maternal fingertips. The lack of moonlight threw his features into soft relief. His brow was smoothed without any light to offend him, the strength of his jaw was eased with the weighty blanket of darkness. His light eyelashes rested gently against the crests of his cheeks, as if ready to burnish his bone structure. Esme's eyes trailed a slow and lazy parade over the strong cheek bone, and she thought absently about the paints she might mix if she were to recreate the shade of his face in the moonless night. He was surely just as pale as a human, but there was an unmistakable sallowness that their kind shared, a complexion that imbued his face with a golden glow under the light of day. Night, however, relieved that gold to an ashen grey pallor. It made him look far more undead and Esme wondered idly if it was such a terrible thing that she still found the sight of it so wonderful. She resolved to immortalise his face in her sketch book once again while he was at work.
For now, her eyelids grew heavy in their gentle perusal of her husband's face. He lay so still, so expressionless that, if it weren't for the slow and rhythmic tide of his breathing and the two fingers that had been steadily drawing circles on her hip for the past three hours, she might have had to consider him a corpse. The irony of that turned one corner of her mouth upwards in a smile.
"I've been told that a picture lasts longer but, truthfully, I'm not so sure of that."
The deep baritone of his voice startled her but she was quick to hide it with a luxurious nuzzle into his shoulder. "Hmm, me either. You've certainly been known to stand the test of time."
He smiled and peeked one eye open at her. "Is it morning yet?"
Night blanketed her voice in a low murmur, "I don't think so." She hummed as she rubbed her cheek back and forth over the space where his chest met his shoulder in a decidedly feline manner.
Carlisle felt his body melt at the sound, dangerously close to emitting a rumbling purr of his own.
"Did you get a good night's sleep?"
Carlisle smiled again at her hushed teasing. 'Sleeping' had begun as one of many jokes the two of them shared, before they had even realised their growing feelings for each other. Sometime ninety years ago, they joked about their need for a 'power nap'. In truth, Carlisle had come to understand the benefits of letting the mind wander into vacancy under the blanket of a dark and quiet room, cushioned by the pillow of each other's embrace. A bit of shut eye was an understood need for both of them and he cherished every 'nap' with her.
"I feel renewed." His eyes flicked down to her, and she felt the golden beam of his gaze warm the apples of her cheeks. "And you, my dear? Or have you just been staring at me for three hours past?"
A hushed chuckle slipped from her smile and she closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of his appraisal like a cat in the sun. "I admit, I wasn't especially sleepy."
His smile widened and he rolled over to face her. His skin shivered delightfully at her hands' careful wandering over his bare chest beneath the covers and he wrapped both arms around her frame, pulling her in by the hips until it was flush to his.
"I suppose that means we should get up," she crooned into his neck, her nose tickling the dip beneath his Adam's apple.
"Oh dear. And join your children downstairs?"
She could hear the smile in his voice and leaned back to arch a brow at him in mocking challenge. "My children?"
"Hmm." Carlisle feigned deep thought with pursed lips. "Perhaps Edward is mine. Rosalie, certainly. But you're taking full responsibility for Emmett – he gets all of… that from your side of the family, I'm sure."
A smile threatened to twist Esme's lips. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
Carlisle simply looked at her with smiling incredulity and his silence was telling.
"I'm sure they can hear us," she gently conceded.
A resounding 'we can' drifted up through the floors of their house and neither Carlisle nor Esme could contain their laughter. Carlisle thought idly that his low chuckle sounded so sweet when softened by her melodic giggle. Her smile pushed the apples of her cheeks into the territory of her eyes and, watching the flutter of her lower lashes against her skin, Carlisle was overcome with the urge to take her face between his hands and kiss that place. One for every freckle she would have had.
Esme caught the adoring look in his eyes as her laughter slipped neatly back into her chest. She bit her lip, suddenly warmed by an all too familiar invisible blush. "What's your plan for today then?" Her voice dipped back beneath the whispering sheets of the dark night.
"I think I'll likely sleep in," he said, without missing a beat. He shrugged the shoulder he wasn't leaning on. "Miss my alarm, show up late for work." His fingers played in lazy lines up her arm to her shoulder. "Though I suppose at that point there won't be much use in going in." Carlisle dipped his head to take a deep inhalation of her neck, making his intention to spend all day in bed with her all too clear. His voice dropped another octave, igniting a steady ember somewhere in the pit of her stomach. "So, the better question Mrs Cullen: what is your plan for today?"
Esme tilted her head back to grant his wandering nose better access to the two crescent-shaped puncture scars adorning her throat, biting back a smile. "Hmm well first I need to get my husband to work."
"Mhmm"
To her great displeasure, Carlisle was yet to take advantage of such generous access. "You can make it in on time. I'll make your breakfast while you're in the shower."
"Oh, eggs Florentine?" His tone perked up but he didn't move his nose from her neck, instead he nudged her gently and fanned his breath over her skin.
"Carlisle no, you're late enough as it is. You'll have them poached." She smiled to the room around them, "and the toast is burned because your tardiness has rushed me." She added as he pressed a chaste kiss to her jaw.
He drew backward to look at her with feigned concern. "Sounds like the start of an argument."
"Oh Darling," Esme cooed, reaching up to hold his cheek in her gentle hand. "It's the beginning of the end for our marriage."
"Goodness. And what of the children? Who gets custody?"
"No one. We put them all back up for adoption."
Carlisle's bark of laughter startled the quiet night air, and she felt the pulse of it draw out a cheek-aching laugh of her own. He pulled her into his chest once more and, despite the iciness of his skin she felt a distinct warmth seep into her bones from his enveloping hug.
His laughter shook her chest as he pressed himself into her, and Esme was distantly reminded of what it felt like to finish a sprint with her heart beating against her rib cage.
The smile in Carlisle's eyes twinkled as his mirth settled. "Perhaps I can be punctual then. For the sake of the children."
Esme rubbed her cheek against his broad chest and enjoyed the soft scratch of his wiry blond hair against her face. She hummed and stretched her arms above her head, releasing an appreciative squeal when it allowed Carlisle to pull her waist closer to his own.
Silence gently wrapped them closer together beneath the sheets. Their eyes locked in their contentment for several moments and the air dancing in the beam of their shared gaze simmered on low. Not yet anywhere near boiling, but the warmth was undeniably there and, much like a watched pot, the gaining heat was excruciatingly steady. After over ninety years sharing such a gaze, they were content in their quiet adoration of each other - neither Carlisle nor Esme felt the need to turn up the flame.
Esme's eyelashes grew heavy as she took in the beauty of her husband's face in the dark once again. She had learned, not long after she moved in with him and Edward, how companionable Night was to Carlisle. Now, with his face turned in her direction, with his golden eyes wide open and his lips curved in a gentle smile, she could appreciate Carlisle's other long-time friend – Candlelight.
She cast her mind back to late night discussions of the Old Testament in his study in Ashland, the candles he lovingly lit smattering gentle orange kisses over his face. Carlisle had lit three candles in their bedroom before they had bedded down for their 'nap', and the one on the floor by the dresser behind her was reflecting beautifully off his skin. The deep blue of the shadows beneath his lashes were purpled by the contrasting orange glow, his tender expression thrown into amber brilliance by its light. But once again, it was the greyish pallidity of his skin that overwhelmed her heart. Highlighted in bisque, shadowed in silver - Esme was smitten with such a palette.
Carlisle watched as her gaze started to wander over his features, in much the same way he had watched her catalogue leaves sparkling in the trees outside their house or the changing colours of the sunrise. Even if he had tried, he would not have been able to help his smile from growing at the tiny furrow in her brow. She was thieving away everything she saw and sealing it tightly, lovingly, in her perfect memory. Briefly, Carlisle wondered where she might recall it.
Her gaze flitted up to his hair and he followed her line of sight, looking up to the strands that had fallen over his forehead. Esme smiled and rubbed the silken hair between her thumb and forefinger before pushing them back to join the rest atop his head.
Esme stretched again, as if her muscles needed it, her back arching in his arms and her toes curling against his shin before she slipped from his embrace altogether. Carlisle buried his pitiful whine.
At just 3am, the moonless night smothered their bedroom in darkness. Carlisle's three candles still flickered, vigil sentinels from their positions about the room. Only those and the stars lit the cosy jungle in their room.
Esme had a long-standing, faulty affection for houseplants. Every sansevieria, pothos, and monstera that she had brought home had been meant for another spot in the house and, without fail, every single one had ended up in their bedroom instead. The result was a crowding green that cluttered every surface in the room. A lofty yucca stood proudly in the corner by the door and dracaena upon spider plant upon areca palm littered the south wall. Ivy and trailing philodendron dripped from hooks sewn into the ceiling and aloe vera, peace lilies and Boston ferns congested shelves and the tops of dressers. Carlisle's similar candle obsession left little room for argument and their antics poured into their bedroom with abundance. Rosalie had argued their room felt cluttered, and whilst he would outwardly agree, both he and Esme were more inclined to compare it to some sacred and verdant cave.
Esme's toes found the cool wood floors and she crossed the room to the antique mirror nestled in the south wall jungle. She ran her hands through her hair, combing out knots that Carlisle's fingers had worked in throughout the night.
The romance of the room, of the air still simmering between them, left Carlisle decidedly charmed by the sight of her. His own white shirt open over her chest, casting enticing shadows across the softness of her tummy, the cuffs dwarfing her hands and the hem skirting her generous thighs. Only that and the lace underwear covered her. Carlisle licked his lips and left the bed to follow her to the mirror.
He slid his body behind hers, bracketing her frame in his arms and splaying his large hands over the light swell of her belly. His fingers absently stroked the loose skin there and Carlisle felt the dull ache of her brief absence flee his body the moment she leant her head back against his shoulder. Their eyes found each other in the dim reflection once again and the familiar heat flickered up a notch.
"My dear, do you understand how beautiful you are?"
Phantom blush heated Esme's cheeks. She bit her lip in a bashful smile.
His hands gently squeezed her tummy, the stretched skin silken beneath his fingertips. "Lush." He pressed a kiss to her cheek and his hands wandered down her thighs, seeking the evidence for his claims. "Heavenly," he whispered.
Esme giggled as he tickled the sensitive spot on her hip.
His right hand travelled the length of her torso, over her soft stomach, up the valley between her breasts and slowing in its ascent of her throat before it came to gentle rest on her chin. "Incandescent."
Esme quickly swallowed around the lump of wet joy suddenly crowding her throat. "You're quite a spectacle yourself, my love."
Her eyes veered from his to take in the breadth of his shoulders, the size and fine strength of his fingers on her jaw. She studied the sloping lines of his right deltoid giving way to the graceful brawn of his bicep. His right side was littered with scarring from neck to elbow, a violent topography detailing just where teeth and claws had teared at his fallible human flesh. Her eyes fell upon the deepest gouge, a crescent chunk taken out of his shoulder.
Esme's eyes flicked back up to his in the mirror where he had watched her wandering over his scars. So often he hid them away, cringed away from touch, but in the dark confines of their verdurous nest his expression was clear, granting only her such a perusal of his graphic rebirth.
Emmett's cheering roar burst through the spaces between the floorboards and startled them both into laugher. It was abruptly cut short when his voice boomed "K.O!". They heard the distinct thud of hard body hitting the cemented ground floor and Esme cringed, heading for the door to shout admonishments down the stairs.
Carlisle caught her hand before she could slip entirely from his grasp and chuckled at the temperamental line between her eyebrows. "They'll survive a few extra minutes."
Esme arched one challenging brow. "I'm not so sure of that."
Carlisle pulled her body to his once again and took her face in both hands. It was another long-standing habit formed from her year as a newborn – to take her face in his palms and tilt her head back just so to assess the colour of her eyes.
"Six days ago," she answered the question he hadn't asked. She smirked. "And you?"
"Hmm. Monday before last." His fingertips gently squeezed her cheeks.
Esme covered his hands with her own. "You've had a number of emergencies come in since then, Darling. You're looking a little bronze."
Carlisle smiled. "I am?" He crossed his eyes as if to look at the colour of his own irises, his heart rejoicing at the sound of her responding giggle. He ran his fingers through the deep caramel curls at the nape of her neck before dropping them from her body altogether. He offered her his arm instead. "May I have this hunt?"
Esme was charmed. "You may."
Esme's bare feet hit the solid dirt on the other side of the water with the force of a shotput. "I think we should leave the States altogether next."
Carlisle raised his brow in question and resumed his hand-in-hand walk with her. "You want to go back to Europe?"
She shrugged a shoulder against his, enjoying the soft swish of her old woollen skirt against her knees. Esme was by no means a messy hunter anymore, but the threat of occasional tearing was incentive enough for her to dress in clothing she wouldn't miss. She tilted her head, "perhaps. England is suitably rainy. How would you feel about living there?"
Carlisle cringed somewhat at the thought. "Perhaps Ireland?" He offered instead. "It's been some time since we visited Siobhan and her coven. I know she'd like to see you again."
She squeezed his hand with both of hers in her excitement. "Ireland would be wonderful. It's so green and they have some beautiful architecture." Esme looked up at the trees over her head as she spoke. The leafy canopy obscured the stars above and without the moonlight to guide them through the wilderness, the darkness felt heavier here than it had in their bedroom. She wondered how happy she would be to venture into such a night without Carlisle by her side, venom-infused vision and all.
"You'd really want to move away from the US?"
Esme leant into him, grateful for the arm he brought around her to rub the silent shiver from her shoulders. "Well, it wouldn't have to be for very long. We could do a few months in Ireland and then move on."
"Ah," he whispered conspiratorially, "you'd like an extended vacation."
She smiled, "is that so bad?"
"Not at all. But why stop with Europe? I've always wanted to explore the middle East – that would sate your architectural need, I'm sure."
Esme paused mid-step as a smile lit her eyes. "I could see the Ctesiphon." Her voice an amazed whispered.
Carlisle chuckled and tugged lightly on her hand to walk her deeper into the woods. "And the Babylonian ruins and the Agha Bozorg in Iran…" he watched her unseeing eyes stirring the thoughts as he trailed off.
Esme considered the dirt beneath her soles. "We don't have to go right away, though. We have all—" Her head whipped to the right as an enticing scent stole her attention. A dewy, metallic smell shimmered faintly somewhere beyond the foggy darkness at the edge of her keen vision.
She shared a look with Carlisle to see the sudden chasm of black thirst in his eyes. His nostrils flared and Esme's tongue was swimming in her own venom.
They released each other's hands and sprinted off toward the scent. She kicked up a trail of leaves and dirt as her bare feet pounded the land, swerving between trees, the wind whipping her hair out behind her in ribbons. She could feel Carlisle's presence somewhere in the trees beside her. She pushed her legs further, faster, matching each of his strong bounds with three of her own.
The forest grew denser as they ran and Esme smiled widely, her agility allowing her to nip ahead through the trees where his size slowed him. A laugh ripped its way up her burning throat in unadulterated freedom.
Her instincts carried her now, her nose navigated the forest like a blood-driven compass and the balls of her feet sprung her forward at impossible speed until she neared the smell. Her feet automatically slowed to silence as she neared the feeding ground of a small family of elk. Esme could see the silhouette of antlers lowered to the ground between the trees. Her tongue snapped out to lick her lips as her eyes homed in on the four beasts. The muscles behind her ears twitched with each wet pulsing of their hearts, the lewd sloshing of their blood in their hinds.
Before she could creep any closer, her ears twitched again and a sudden draft whipped her hair up around her face as Carlisle passed her by to slam the full weight of his body into the larger bull. Esme growled and pounced towards the scattering elk, catching the other bull by the antlers. She threw herself around its back, gripping its flanks with her vice-like thighs. It stumbled under her momentum and threw itself to the floor, pinning Esme beneath it's back as its hooves kicked frantically in the air.
Esme snarled, squeezing her arms around the fat bulk of its neck to hold it to her. She growled in frustration as she had to dodge the desperate lashing of the creature's hooves. It bleeted futilely and threw its head back, the weight of it knocking Esme's lungs clear of all breath. She squeezed its neck harder and yanked when she felt a wet crunch between her crushing elbows and the bull ceased its thrashing.
Esme rolled over to her side, the beast's shoulders still clutched between her thighs, and sunk her teeth through the thick hide like it was butter. She spooned the animal's neck from the floor and a satisfied grumble licked through her throat when the first mouthful of blood hit her tongue.
Salty warmth soothed her scorching throat as she pulled. She closed her eyes and drank greedily. The liquid iron splashed against her teeth and filled her cheeks with each impatient gulp, and it drenched the barren, venom-parched plains of her throat - thick swathes of refreshing rain with the sole mission of reanimating her oesophagus.
Esme's nostrils flared as she picked up Carlisle's scent nearing her. She didn't cease her hungry pulling on the elk's veins as she looked up at him from the floor. His eyes were bright gold now, lined with the lifeblood of the fat bull he had killed, and they seemed to shine with obscene viridity through the black night. The air hummed with the pressing tension in his gaze as it held hers and she belatedly realised that the humming was the sound of her own purring.
Carlisle approached slowly, enraptured by the sight of her. Practically spooning the elk between her thighs, purring with the throttle of a pick-up truck, adoring eyes watching him as she drew from her kill's fat neck.
He bent down on knee by the beast's antlers and Esme lost concentration enough to choke on the blood, spilling it over her chin. Her eyes left him then as she hastily latched back onto the curved puncture, resuming concentration on draining the behemoth deer.
Carlisle's eyes wandered over her face. The widow's peak at the apex of her forehead wilted under the weight of the silken curls and he reached out to run his fingers through it, overcome with the urge to submerge himself entirely in her tawny hair. Carlisle gently massaged his wife's scalp as she drank her fill, and his chest burst into warm, pounding life when her the deep throttle of her purr reclaimed the air.
Her lips dropped the neck of the bull, drained limp, and she pushed her head into his hand, hooking his gaze back into hers. Finally able to refill her lungs after the elk had winded her, Esme took a steadying breath and her eyelids lowered in her blood-drunken daze.
Carlisle licked his lips at her expression but didn't move. He waited with bated breath as Esme's hunting instinct fled her body and her conscious mind made its way back to the forest. When her golden eyes refocused on his, the flame of their shared gaze roared to life again, charging the very particles that separated them. Carlisle took in the sight of her tucked halfway beneath the bull, her chin covered in the blood she had spilled.
Esme caught his eyes as they focused on her lips and she licked them clean, tasting the fresh blood. She looked down at herself only to find herself and her blouse fairly spattered with red. She hadn't made such a mess of herself on a hunt in years and when she looked back up to Carlisle, she found his eyes darker once again, only the thirst from before was unmistakeably replaced by hunger.
The night that had been so peaceful moments ago was suddenly roaring with their fire.
"Oh, bunny." His voice was deep, stumbling over the gravel in his throat as he practically growled the words. Carlisle absentmindedly licked his teeth, and the friction charged the air until the night crackled electric. He pulled his hand from her hair to cradle her jaw, knelt forward and brought her lips to his.
He kissed his wife sweetly first, painting his lips and fingers with her poured libation. Esme could not help the whimper that escaped her as she felt his tongue snake out to lick her lips clean. Her fingers found the collar of his shirt and she pulled him down, closer to her place on the forest floor, seemingly unbothered that the bull's neck and head still separated them.
She parted her lips all too happily for him as he moved over her. The iron and salt of the blood they shared between them combined so sweetly with the smoky flavour of his venom and the resulting concoction was intoxicating.
Esme moaned into his mouth and her head slipped once again beneath the surface of vampiric impulse. Carlisle responded with a moan of his own that rumbled from deep within his chest. The sound had her eyes rolling back and she pulled him down on top of her.
Carlisle went happily, pushing the still-warm carcass off her pinned leg as he moved over her to pin her to the dirt himself. "You taste positively reprehensible, my love." His voice was low with hunger, gravelly with need.
Esme pulled him back to down to her lips in response and Carlisle ground a groan out into her mouth. Her smile twisted their kiss and Carlisle moved to follow it, trailing kisses from the corner of her mouth down her messy chin. The heat of the blood between them seared their stone-cold skin.
"Please, Carlisle," she whined. "Make me taste of you."
Carlisle's lips slowed in their descent, her words making him forget himself. He huffed a laboured breath against her face and grazed his teeth along her jaw for a moment before soothing it with his lips again. It thrust a shiver down her spine.
"Tell me," he grunted between kisses. His lips moved along her jaw before reaching the space just beneath her ear. His fingers stretched over her throat, his thumb lightly stroking the edge of one of the scars he had given her over ninety years ago. "Tell me what you want, bunny."
Esme's reaction to the way he said the moniker, the way he only said it for her ears, was visceral. She wound her fingers through his hair, attempting to pull his lips down to meet her vacant pulse point but he resisted her strength with a smile.
"No, Esme. Tell me." He kissed her once in placation. "Explicitly."
The sound of his voice ordering her pulled a groan from her. Her fingernails scratched lightly at Carlisle's scalp, and she bit her lip in an attempt to contain her lustful smile. "I want you. Here, now."
To her mounting frustration Carlisle did not continue kissing her neck. Instead, he pulled back to look at her, grazing his thumb over the raised print of his own teeth on her throat. His molten gaze scorched the air between them. He licked his lips. He was waiting for her to continue.
Esme whimpered beneath him, "I want to feel you." She emphasised her point by wrapping her thighs around his waist and tugging his pelvis flush against her. "All of you," she panted.
Carlisle felt an age-old pride expand his chest. Her Valkyrie strength wrapped around him; her Siren voice drew him closer. And what reason did he ever have to refuse her? She was lethal sublime, ethereal with biblical strength and a still heart that transcended the plane he walked upon. And she was his. His to make and learn love with - this beast of deified power, with abundant thighs enclosing his gait and nymphet fingers mastering his crown. In all his centuries as an indestructible creature of the night, Carlisle had never felt so exquisitely conquerable than when in Esme's company. He gently squeezed his fingertips into her sensitive scars to stay the sudden urge to cross himself in reverence.
"Show me," he panted back at her. His hands found hers where her clutched the hair at the base of his skull, and he brought her knuckles to his lips. "Show me where you want me." He ordered.
Her eyelids withered under the weight of her lust and she licked her lips, nodding dutifully. With her hair strewn about the dirt, mouth and chin covered in blood, eyelashes heavy and throat adorned in his fingers, Esme was a sinful sight. She guided his hand to the inside of her thigh, "touch me, Carlisle. Touch me here."
He squeezed the plush skin of her thigh before her hand pulled him deeper beneath her skirt. Carlisle had to actively work at slowing himself: this act was not to sate but to savour. He dipped his face to the hollow of her neck again and kissed her pulse point, planting bloodied roses up over her jaw and when he finally reunited with her lips, his fingers met lace beneath her skirt. A sinfully lewd purr escaped Esme and Carlisle pushed his tongue into her mouth, tasting the milky honey of her venom.
Carlisle found her centre through her underwear and Esme gave a pitiful moan; they could both feel how soaked the lace was. He could feel how flimsy it was – just a gentle pull is all it would take to tear from her body. His mouth flooded with venom she could taste as he ripped the underwear from her body.
She whined his name in half-hearted protest, breaking the kiss to nip his jaw in admonishment.
His fingers traced her opening in placation, already slickened with her venom. She hardly had time to shudder before he pushed two fingers into her. Esme's moan sang throughout the trees and Carlisle couldn't help his chuckle.
He kept a slow, rhythmic pace with his fingers. She whimpered softly into his neck as he fucked her steadily with his dextrous fingers, punctuating the sounds with playful nips to his neck. He responded to each with an adoring growl. Carlisle rubbed his thumb over her clit and one of her nips turned her into a harder bite.
Their actions goaded each other, for each circling of her clit there came a moan of his name, for each sensual lick against his scars he gave a grunt of lustful approval. He ground his aching length into her thigh and she took it into her wanton hands, palming his erection through his trousers.
"Oh Esme, I want to take you."
She licked upward to ghost her tongue along the shell of his ear, mewling her consent. "Tell me." She echoed him with a teasing smile and gave his hard length a squeeze for good measure.
The rarity of her ordering him aroundmade the sound of it all the sweeter to his ears. Carlisle could not help the growl in his voice. "Right here," he moved his nose down the side of her face to take a deep inhale at her neck, "in this forest," he pressed a kiss to his mark, where she smelled most strongly of him, "I'm going to fuck you." He curled his fingers inside of her and all coherence left her in the loud moan she let out as she threw her head backwards into the ground.
Carlisle smiled at the sound, chuckling at the almost pained crease in her brow when he retrieved his fingers from within her. Without thought he brought the beautiful scent to his mouth, and she melted entirely into the forest floor as she watched him lick his fingers clean of her pearly venom.
Esme whimpered and squeezed his erection again in silent plea – words had long left her, his hands having reduced her to whimpers and growls alone.
His wet fingers found hers as they both reached for Carlisle's belt but Esme did not have the patience for his one-handed fumbling. She batted his hand away and crushed the metal buckle in her fingers before ripping the leather straight from his trousers.
Esme tossed his belt behind her head, and he looked down at her with wide eyes, momentarily brought back to the present. "My belt."
"My underwear," she grinned and pulled him down for another kiss.
Her nimble fingers sought out his zipper and he hurriedly undid it before she could break that too. "You're a beast, Mrs Cullen," he whispered between kisses.
Her laugh was low and sultry, trailing off into another moan as she helped to push his trousers and underwear down his thighs until, finally, his erection was free against her thigh.
Carlisle captured her hand, interlocking their fingers so that her engagement and wedding rings pressed wonderfully against his knuckle. He kissed her ring finger once and pinned her hand into the dirt above her head. Then he paused, hovering over her to drown in the sight of her: her legs lay open for him, eyelids heavy… how had blood gotten into her hair?
Esme whimpered fussily at having to wait. "Please, Carlisle. I need you." Her heels found his lower back and pulled him in. "Inside." The last word was lost in another sultry growl.
Carlisle did not hesitate, and with aching need, he slid his length into her. He poured kisses into her neck as her warm silk enveloped him, and he just barely bit back an indecent snarl. Esme's habitual volume was put to use, and the trees vibrated with the sound of her fulfilment. With every inch, her moaning rose in pitch and her fingernails clawed deeper into his hair, until he finally buried himself in her completely.
Carlisle shut his eyes and saw stars bursting behind his eyelids with each heavy pant into her neck. Her warmth was impossible and undeniable in the same breath. He felt the weight of religion, of wisdom, of their shared love anchor him to this place deep within her and in their divine connection, Carlisle felt home. There, seated fully within the velvety embrace of his wife, he took her jaw in his hand and captured her lips in another kiss.
Esme moaned and locked her bare feet behind his back, not allowing him to withdraw. Her free hand found the side of his face, and with shaky fingers, she held his cheek, tilting her head to deepen their kiss.
Finally, she broke away. "Please,"
Carlisle needed no more convincing to start moving within her. He withdrew slowly, drawing a desperate whine from Esme before inching slowly back in, replacing it with a salacious purr. He set a steady pace, thrusting within her. One elbow kept his weight as her other hand pinned hers to the dirt above her head, freeing her other fingers to cradle his cheek as they locked eyes.
Esme's purring did not relent. His every withdrawal spoiled her with delicious friction and each accompanying thrust inward hit a sacred point deep within her. All the while, she stared into his dangerously golden eyes. His pupils were dilated enough to mistake him for a parched man but the intensity in his gaze screamed ravenous instead. She felt her eyelashes fluttering shut as he started to lose control of his slow and meticulous pacing.
His gaining momentum jolted her backward in the dirt as he impaled her on his solid length.
"Carlisle," she keened for him.
He stole her lips between his and clutched tightly to the hand he held above her head, panting precious grunts. "Good girl, Esme. You take it so beautifully."
Her moan into his lips begged for more lewd praise and he obliged, whispering between each of his kisses about how 'good' his wife was. Her reaction was visceral and immediate, and she pushed her hips up to meet each of his thrusts, as if to prove to him how good she could be.
His lips ventured downward to her neck again, and he shifted his weight to their joined hands so his aching fingers could join his mouth. His fingertips searched for anything they could take, and Esme gave it all willingly, arching her back to push her chest up into his waiting fingers.
Carlisle pulled her blouse open, without care for the buttons flying off, and his hands searched until they found her left breast. Esme crooned with feline harmony as he filled his large hands with the weight of one breast. He squeezed it gently as he lathed his tongue flat over her scars and Esme cried out at the sensitivity. They had both learned long ago about that particular erogenous zone and Carlisle couldn't help his instinct to want to cover that spot with more of his own venom, as if he could possibly mark her further.
He kissed her cheek to soothe the excruciating pleasure of his tongue on her scars. He replaced it instead with his thumb and forefinger on her nipple and Esme whispered a "yes" against his forehead.
Esme's own free hand wandered all over him as he fucked her body further into the dirt. It roamed over his neck and chest but repeatedly it found its way back into his hair.
Carlisle hilted himself inside her over and over again and she responded to each one in kind with her own hips. Her heels dug into the dimples at the base of his spine as she pulled him down and when Carlisle took her lips in another open-mouthed kiss, she titled her hips up further, allowing him to bottom out deep inside of her.
"Good girl," Carlisle growled. The praise tugged at something behind her navel and Esme could feel release creep up on her. She pulled on his hair again, pulling his face away from her neck to look him in the eye. The effect was astoundingly erotic, somehow both soothing and heightening her fever. Carlisle's fingers tightened in her hand and the molten black of his pupils pressed her with carnal passion. "Mine. My wife." The words rumbled straight from his chest.
Esme whimpered up at him through parted lips, too enraptured to look away from his lascivious gaze and she locked her legs tightly around his waist. His free arm wrapped around her, the flat of his hand steadying her weight at the small of her back and he sheathed himself within her with new strength. Esme's eyelids threatened to close in bliss but Carlisle's gentle growling begged them to remain open. "I'm…" there were no words to describe what was only inches away.
"I know," he purred. "Let go, Esme." He pushed himself deep, seating his groin against the basin of her pelvis with thrust. "Come for me."
Esme's mouth hung open as she moaned her way to the precipice. It was the look in his eyes, pinning her in place, more so than any of his other body parts, that finally pushed her over. With great strength, she kept her eyes from closing in the bliss of her orgasm as it washed over her, sharing the unbelievable pleasure with him. She was distantly aware of the flooding beneath her skirt and somewhere around them her moan resonated off the trees. Her walls tightened with each wave of pleasure as Carlisle fucked her through it.
Each tight clench of her wet walls dragged Carlisle further from his own control. His panted grunts became more guttural until he was steadily growling into her. His rhythm was lost and as she moaned over one of the crests of her orgasm, he was pulled beneath the surface with her, emptying himself into her with each thrust. He continued to fuck her, filling her with his seed until his pace slowed and his force calmed, and they both came down from their shared high. All the while their gazes held, and their hands stayed locked together in the dirt above her head.
Their chests heaved and Esme broke into a breathy laugh. The hand that had long-since taken up residence in his hair pulled his head down gently to rest his face in the hollow of her neck, and his weight sagged into her gently.
They stayed like that for a few moments, the forest silent around them without the symphony of their love making to fill it. Lazily, he pressed kisses into her neck. She stroked her fingers through his hair with each one.
"This," he said quietly, "is my favourite place."
Esme laughed gently, her body light and strumming with the ease of her afterglow. "Inside me?" She teased.
Carlisle's growl rumbled to life again at the mere suggestion of his place within her. "Yes," he smiled into her neck.
They savoured a few more moments locked together. Esme's bare toes played with the hem of his shirt as she looked up at the sky above her. The canopy still lay thick and crowding but between the leaves she found indisputable deep blue; the sun was embarking on its very slow ascent toward the horizon.
Finally, and with some reluctance, he slipped himself from her before rolling over onto his back and pulling her with him. Esme draped herself lazily over his chest, enjoying his idle fingers playing in her hair. The tide of his breathing expanded his chest and raised her to and from his protective dais. Her eyelids grew heavier with each breath until he finally spoke, "we are quite a sight."
Esme winced lightly and laughed around her growing embarrassment. Rolling around in the dirt had seemed like such a great idea just ten minutes ago but now she was keenly aware that her blouse was marred with blood and missing the majority of its buttons. She closed her eyes and cringed, "my underwear."
Carlisle's low chuckle shook her atop his chest. "My belt," he parroted back to her.
Esme laughed out her groan. They had gone far passed the point of being able to explain away their attire if they were caught like this. "Well, if you will undress yourself at the pace of a sloth." She peeked a bashful glance at him, lingering mischief twinkling in her eyes.
Carlisle barked a laugh. "At least you have a skirt to hide behind until we get back to the house." He tilted his head up to look backward in the general direction the belt had been tossed. "I don't suppose you have an explanation ready for why my belt buckle looks like Play-Doh?"
She twisted her smile to chew her cheek sheepishly. "I have an apology ready. Is that acceptable?"
Carlisle only smiled as he stroked her hair. "Oh goodness, no. Then I'd have to pretend that I regret its loss. I can assure you, Es – I have no regrets."
Esme shifted her weight to stare down at him properly. "So, my underwear for your belt and we'll call it even."
Carlisle framed her face in his hands, his eyes softening in unspeakable love. "Even." He brought her face down for a kiss, pulling away only to rub his nose against hers.
With his face so close, her body lazy and light, and her heart sore with the exquisite weight of his love, Esme felt she couldn't break into the moment with the sound of her voice, so she whispered. "I suppose we should get up."
He nodded, perhaps only to rub his nose against hers again, but then gently lifted her off of him to stand. Esme's knees felt deliciously weak as she got to her feet again. Moments ago, her legs were forged in Selene's hearth, rippling thighs crushing the air from her kill, nimble feet bounding her across the land. Carlisle's hunt had reduced her to a wobbling fool, and she retrieved her torn underwear from the floor with all the dignity of a fawn on ice.
She slipped the tatters into the pocket of her skirt and turned around to watch Carlisle pat damp earth over the body of his buried bull. She squatted down next to the head of her own kill. Its glassy and unseeing eyes stared vacantly back at her, and she placed her fingers on its cooling brow to close its eyelids. She started to pull the dirt from the ground and when she had a shallow hole large enough, Carlisle lifted the beast and lowered it gently into its grave. They spent longer than they needed to piling the dirt back over before standing over the fresh graves.
"Oh dear. Your shirt…" Carlisle reached over the mound of dirt to catch the lapel of her blouse. It hung open over her bare chest, slightly frayed where each button had sat, and covered in smears of blood.
Esme looked down at herself, then over her arms and assessed her fingernails. Where she wasn't bloody, she was muddy. "Is it bad?"
Carlisle paused for a moment, unsure how to describe her appearance without being disrespectfully lewd. Leaves and twigs were knitted into her hair, her curls sent awry by their desperate love making. Her chin was still covered in elk blood, only now it was smeared all over her jaw, her cheeks, her forehead. His mouth had printed an obscene amount over her neck and collar bone. He couldn't come up with anything, so he shrugged out of his own shirt.
Esme laughed as he eased her arms into the sleeves, "I'll take that as a yes."
He buttoned the front of the shirt closed as she tucked it beneath the waist band of her skirt. His scent wrapped around her and she felt warmed.
Carlisle, now bare-chested as well as beltless, clicked his canine's together in thought. "I'm sure we could find some freshwater to clean ourselves up…" He looked about the dark forest, straining his ears to listen for running water.
Esme simply wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled herself closer into his arms. "Would it be terrible if we went home like this?"
Carlisle wrapped her in his arms with a smile. "Well, I suppose Bella won't be around at this time. We'd give her an awful fright, I'm sure."
"You think we can sneak past the others and get to the shower undetected?"
Carlisle chucked and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He turned around bent low for her to climb onto his back, and when he felt her thighs tighten around his waist and her giggle kiss his scarred shoulder, he stood up to his full height and set off in the direction of their home. "Mrs Cullen, you are a fiend."
A/N: 'Bunny' was a common term of endearment in the 17th Century. Carlisle was actually called bunny as a young boy by his nurse. He doesn't remember that at all - all he knows is that he gets a warm fuzzy feeling when he calls Esme his bunny.