I've just read a whole bunch of romance novels in preparation for this, so if it's bad, it's not for want of research. *Cracks knuckles*

Me writing this: *narrows eyes* hmm... That works... I think...?

NOT SUITABLE FOR WORK; CARYS x CARLISLE POV - THEIR FIRST TIME.

[REALLY. IT'S NSFW. LIKE LEMONS UPON LEMONS, I THINK.]

Carys didn't answer, simply continued to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one. It was a good job he was wearing a cardigan instead of a jumper - it would only have got in the way.

Carlisle's jaw clenched as he swallowed hard. His hands covered hers, and he tugged them away from his shirt.

Carys frowned and tutted lightly when she was unable to break his hold.

"Would you let me go?" she asked, her body twisting as she tried to wrestle her arms free.

"No," Carlisle argued, confusion lacing his words as he refused to release her. "Not until you tell me what you're doing."

"I thought it was obvious," she huffed, meeting his gaze. "I'm trying to take your clothes off."

Carlisle stilled completely, a muscle twitching near his eye. This time she knew he wasn't breathing. "Why?" he asked finally, hauling in a deep breath.

"Because," Carys whispered slowly, "now that I know you want me as much as I want you, there's really no need for us both to suffer, now is there?"

Carlisle shuddered. With a few simple words from Carys, the fog that had descended on his mind deepened. He couldn't think. Halfway there already, he was rock hard in an instant.

He felt a sudden overwhelming sympathy for the Devil. And Eve. And Adam. And, truly, anyone who had ever been tempted far beyond what was bearable by that ruddy apple, as he now was.

He was being seduced by his half-naked mate. She was actually attempting to take his clothes off. Carys was telling him she wanted him. Right now. Here.

It was too hard. He was too hard. He couldn't think if she kept touching him.

Carlisle stared down at her and thrust her hands away. Before he gave in - gave himself off to that part of himself that surfaced whenever she stared up at him like that, he needed to be certain.

"Do you have any idea of what you're doing?" he asked her, surprising himself with the deep roughened sound of his voice. He shook away the worst of the lustful fog and tried again. "What you're-"

Hands halfway to his shirt once again, Carys insisted, "We've been through this. Neither one of us is a virgin, Carlisle. Besides. You're a doctor, and I'm a grown woman - I think we could work it out if we needed to."

Jaw clenched to the point of pain, Carlisle caught her hands again and closed his eyes on a groan. He wondered if she realised what she'd just said. Work it out, indeed. Carys tugged at his hold again. His control couldn't take much more.

"Woman. Have you thought about this at all?" he growled.

Carys laughed, a low, sultry sound that pulsed through the air, sending another shaft of lust straight to his groin. Carlisle resisted the urge to haul her against him and show her exactly what he meant.

Instead, he waited.

More fool him, she rolled her eyes. "Of course I've thought about it, Carlisle. I don't take twenty minute showers out of disregard for my water bill-oof!"

Carlisle hauled her against him and kissed her. He stopped short of crushing her any more than that infernal excuse for a slip already was, but it took all his effort to do so. Thrusting his hand into her hair, he slanted his mouth over hers and fell headfirst into her softness.

Carys' hair curled over his fingers and clung. The part of him that demanded he take her here and now reared it's head when she all but melted against him.

Palming the back of her head, he locked his free arm around her waist and backed her against the nearest piece of furniture. Her mouth opened wider on a shocked gasp, and he remembered that she wasn't as fast as him. He pulled tight on the reins, and lifted her atop the dresser as gently as he could.

The dresser slammed into the wall. Carefully arranged products cascaded across the floor. Carys let out a squeak, but was lost in the urgent hunger of their lips, her hands gripping at his shirt, pulling him closer.

Clinging to the kiss, his hands shifted; he gripped the backs of her knees, lifted, and attempted to open her legs so he could step between. The tight shift stopped him in his tracks. He had a spilt second of clarity.

He couldn't take her like this.

Carlisle pulled away. Shocked by his loss of control, he took a step back, hauled in a deep breath. Then took another step, distancing himself as much as he could manage.

His body thrummed, mind roared with the need to touch her again.

Carys panted.

She slowly opened her eyes, blinking dazedly up at him. Her cheeks were flushed almost as pink as her lips.

"Carys. If you think for a moment... Damn," he whispered under his breath as she licked her lips. "Carys. Darling. I want you. Need. You. Desperately. So much so that if we do this, there will have to be rules."

"Rules...? What-oh." Understanding dawned, and Carys' full lips formed a perfect 'o'. She nodded slowly, still dazed. "Because you're a vampire."

Carlisle clenched his jaw and nodded. Once. It was about all he could manage under the circumstances. "Because I could hurt you if I lost control and went too quickly."

"With your-"

"If I forgot my strength-"

"-stone penis," Carys finished.

Carlisle choked, then froze. His lips trembled when she began to quietly ramble.

"You're right, that could be an issue... I mean... If you did accidentally kill me with sex, you could always put 'died doing who she loved' on my tombstone," she carried on as Carlisle started to shake. "Just pretend it's a typo if anyone asks. Or should it be: 'died being done by who she loved'?"

"This. Is. I'm being. This is-" Carlisle struggled to express himself through silent fits of laughter. Venom pooled in his eyes. "This is-"

"Serious?" Carys supplied, settling herself more comfortably atop the dresser. Her lips tipped up at the edges. Carlisle nodded, the best he could do, and she mused aloud, "Yes, I agree. I mean, I definitely don't fancy being rogered to death."

Carlisle bent low, gripping his knees in an effort to stay on his feet. Even when her mind was fogged, her wit would be the death of him.

Cleopatra reborn.

She possessed the perfect mix of strength, sensuality, compassion, intelligence and wit. Beauty, of course - goddess-like to him - but it was her mind that attracted people to her in a different way.

Carys must have realised they needed to a break from the fire that raged, and so she made it happen. Desire continued to claw at him, but he could now think past the near uncontrollable lust.

He wondered if she realised just how easily she adapted to those around her, to the way they thought and acted, to what made them tick on a deeper level; how to put them at ease.

Perhaps she didn't. Perhaps she truly couldn't see herself, or the way she saw others.

"Rogered?" Carlisle asked when he was able, staring up at her. "Bit old fashioned?"

"Ah, you see, I wanted to go with something you'd recognise," Carys replied, crossing her ankles and pressing her palms down on either side of her hips. "Now I've had more time to think, I guess tupped might be more your speed? Or... Canoodled? Ooh, ravished! That's it! Ravished to death," she finished with a toss of her head.

Her curls shifted with the movement, and the conqueror with him snapped and growled at the evidence of his earlier possession.

Carlisle straightened and walked towards her. Her eyes, which had begun to sparkle with humour, softened instantly. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and hers parted.

"Carys?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking."

"Okay."

Carlisle cupped her neck, running one hand up over her silken knee, the tight satin encasing her lush thigh, the inward flare of her waist, her tightly bound breast, up over her neck, to palm her jaw.

He lifted her to him. She went willingly to accept his kiss, eyes fluttering closed on a contented sigh.

Her arms looped around his neck, an unspoken invitation, and she moaned more insistently against his mouth. He needed to stay in control. He kissed her deeply - forcefully - and then deepened the caress again.

Sometime later, he pulled away.

Carys whined and tried to follow him, but Carlisle didn't move far, trailing his lips down over her jaw to settle against her neck. His tongue darted out to taste her skin - she murmured, shifted, and gently moaned his name.

Trying to hide his triumphant grin, he shifted back to look at her.

Eyes half-closed, lips swollen from their kiss, Carys panted softly. "You're right though - we need to be careful," she whispered. It was a wonder she got the words out. "Tell me what you need."

Her tongue darted out, stroking her bottom lip into her mouth, and Carlisle pressed his thumb against her chin until she released it.

Her whispered command hit him somewhere in the vicinity of his long still heart.

Carys could hardly think, let alone be entirely sure if her words had made sense, but she had been serious. She wanted him more than she had wanted anyone before - but she didn't want this to end badly.

Carlisle didn't answer her immediately. Instead, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the place where her neck met her shoulder, and sucked at her skin - hard. It would leave a bruise, she was sure.

He released her after a few moments, pulling back just enough to survey his handiwork. "You taste delicious," he growled, returning to run his nose up and down the long column of her throat.

Even clouded with desire, Carys could think enough to know that he must not have meant her blood. She trusted him completely, trusted that he could control his bloodlust and keep his teeth out of the way of her skin. She shifted - craving some kind of release from the burning need. Friction. She needed friction.

Trailing kisses over her jaw, Carlisle flicked his slowly warming tongue just behind her ear. Carys whimpered, balling her hands into fists behind his head.

She desperately wanted to touch him - to feel him, urge him against her - but she kept her hands where they were in case he stopped again. His grip tightened on her hair, and he tugged, forcing her to arch her back.

It wasn't enough - she needed more.

Carlisle turned his head and hissed into her ear, "Rule one: you tell me if I'm hurting you."

She tried to nod. Her entire body was burning for him - couldn't he see she would agree to whatever he asked?

He responded by tugging harder, just shy of the point of pain, and she burned hotter still.

"Agreed," she whispered.

Carlisle grinned, rewarding her by trailing his free hand over her chest, curling a single finger over the edge of her slip, easing it between her breasts. Already constricting, the slip was now painfully tight. She couldn't breathe.

"Rule two: you tell me what you like or don't like." His voice was harsh as he trailed soft, sweet kisses over her straining breasts. "You let me take my time learning your body."

He slid two fingers between her legs, as high as he could with the barrier - stroking her sensitive inner thighs.

"What makes you moan." Carys responded to his words as if they were commands, letting him hear exactly what he expected from her. "Whimper." He kissed the hollow of her throat and she dropped her neck back further. "What makes you scream my name as you come."

Carys sobbed. "Jesus Christ."

"Want to try that again?"

"Carlisle..."

He tugged at her hair again. "And the rest," he rasped.

"Carlisle Cullen. Ah! Doctor Cullen! Doctor Cullen!"

A question sparked to life as he eased his hold on her. Did he know he was ruining the name for her? She didn't think she'd be able to call him that at work without instantly thinking about this night.

Carlisle's grin was almost feral. "You seem to be in pain there, Miss Vale... Would you like some help?"

"Please."

Something inside him shattered.

Carlisle returned his hand to her breast, easing his finger back into the deep valley. He marveled over how soft her skin was. He barely tugged - the seam gave way at the top, giving her space to breathe.

Carys hauled in as deep a breath as she could manage. Her bellowing lungs caused the silk to rip a little more.

Three small, deliberate tugs bared her to the waist. He dropped his gaze and froze.

It took a moment for Carys to realise Carlisle was no longer moving. Breathing. Blinking. She shifted under his gaze, a little embarrassed, then slowly trailed her hands over his shoulders and began to slip the remaining buttons of his shirt free, one by one.

He moved when she reached his firmly ridged abdomen, drawing her hands away. Carys let him. He took over, stripping himself free of his cardigan before moving on to his shirt, all the while staring at her body.

He tugged the fabric from his waistband with sharp, precise movements, ignored the last of the buttons, grasped the collar to draw it over his head, and dropped it to the ground beside him.

When he finally met her gaze, his eyes burned with raging lust.

She slid towards him and he placed his hands on her thighs. The fabric ripped as he freed her lower body. Carys instinctively opened her legs - he stepped between, cupping her face in his hands, drawing her against him.

It was what she needed. Oh god, but it wasn't enough. She undulated against him - rubbed her breasts against his chest hair.

Open mouthed and flagrant, they each ignored the risk of his venom and sank into the kiss. They had perfected it to an art by now - Carys' tongue went no further than his lips, but his had full reign of their mouths.

After the initial shock of contact, Carlisle's cool skin was a balm to Carys' burning - hers warmed his in turn.

Carlisle held himself back for as long as he could, but he needed her. Now. He pulled her more securely against him and grinned when she arched and wriggled closer still.

Carys' hands had been meandering a path down his chest - she squealed into his mouth when sudden weightlessness alerted her to the fact he had lifted her. He secured her thighs, turned, and strode towards the bed, holding her firmly in place.

She thought he might throw her onto the bed again and braced for it, but he eased her down against the pillows without breaking their kiss.

He did then.

He whispered against her lips, hands gripping her waist. "Rule four-"

"Three," Carys countered instantly, distracted by her attempts to pull him down over her.

Carlisle held steady. Head bowed, his lips trailed a path of fire over her chest. He flicked his tongue over one hardened nipple - she cried out. "Four," he told her, satisfaction filling his voice. "Three was that I let you learn me too."

Carys didn't need to be told twice.

A small high-pitched cry left her - her eyes lit up. She flattened her palms against his skin - and stroked. Carlisle gritted his teeth, settled against her breast, and let her explore while he licked and suckled at her heavy, tightly furled flesh. He had to remind himself to take this as slowly as he could. It became a chant in his mind.

"Four, then?" she asked, breathlessly excited, undoing all his hard work.

"Rule four," he told her, releasing her to sit back on his heels. "I have total control."

Carys dropped her gaze and pushed up onto her knees, impatiently shoving the ruined slip down to her hips. Carlisle reached out a hand, ripped, and threw the material away. It floated in an arc through the air, falling to the ground beside the bed.

He looked her over, then glanced up. Their eyes met. She felt two small tugs - one on either side of her hips, and then her knickers went the same way as the slip.

She wasn't sure how he had done it without touching her - without giving her what she desperately needed.

Carys felt too much. Too wet. Too hot. Too aching. Too empty. Too exposed.

Carlisle held still, watching, waiting, his face a mask of serene impassivity. She moved towards him, and he shifted back. Why had he shifted back? Did he not find her attractive now that he had seen all of her?

Suddenly awkward, she covered as much of herself as she could with her hands and long hair. Carlisle moved her hands away, then twitched her hair back over her shoulders.

His voice was barely a rasp. "Answer," he commanded.

Answer? What? Oh. Carys mind stuttered. He wanted control.

"Yes."

Carlisle firmed his hands against her taut waist, pulling her up against him. She sighed, then gasped when his lips found the breast he had neglected; spearing her hands through his hair, she pressed her cheek to the silken tresses and let him feast.

Pleasure lanced her. Soon, she was little more than a gasping, panting mess of need once more.

The covers shifted beneath her, and she was thrown back against the pillows - his hands roamed her body - he left almost nowhere untouched, save the place she needed him most.

Carys tugged him back up - he took possession of her mouth, firm lips demanding her surrender, his hard tongue probed deep, echoing the way her hips bucked against him.

Her hands slid to his belt, needing to feel him. He caught her wrists, pressed them to the bed, slid them beneath the pillows, and growled. She felt it vibrate through her entire being - she surrendered to the unspoken command.

He swallowed her moan.

Easing from the kiss, one hand cupped, kneaded and tweaked her breast. The other moved lower, over her arching body, down to where she ached for him.

Carys held her breath. He touched her - she jerked.

Yessss. More. Please.

Smug satisfaction lanced through Carlisle. He withdrew from the kiss to better hear her sweet cries and low, desperate moans. He needed her pleasure now as much as he needed to be inside her. More. He needed to watch her break apart for him.

Moving his thumb against her clit, he listened for the right moment - the moment her breath fractured, her heart rate increased, her moans deepened, seeking release - the moment he found the rhythm and pressure that would send her over the edge.

"Open your eyes, love," he rasped. "I need to see. Let me see." He barely recognised his own voice. When he found the right rhythm, she cried out.

He lifted his thumb from her flesh until she obeyed.

Her eyes snapped open - he returned to his endeavours.

Carys moaned and writhed.

His hand left her breast and gripped her hip, just to the point of pain, holding her to the bed as he spurred her on, keeping her eyes locked on his. There was no way she could look away now. The connection was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Tightly coiling, spiralling up and up and up, Carys realised the cries and pleas that filled the air around them belonged to her. She couldn't take much more - she desperately pushed at him, tugged at his belt, begging him to end the torment and take her.

She'd never managed to reach the peak with another person. The few men she'd slept with over the years had tried, with varying degrees of success, then quickly given up when it took longer than a few to ten minutes of foreplay, moving on to their own pleasure instead.

It was all she knew that could save her from the ever blazing need.

"Can you come with me inside you?" he asked, tightening his hold on her hip. "Can you? Have you ever come with someone inside you? Tell me, darling."

"No!" Carys bucked and desperately tried to catch her breath. "I'm. It's too. I'm too-I-oh god-please!?"

He drove her on. Shifting over her, he settled his mouth over the peak of one aching breast. "Then give me this," he demanded, suckling at her skin between words. "This is mine as much as yours, love. I need to see you. I need to hear you."

Carys strained and writhed against the pillows - she tugged at his hair - he pushed her on relentlessly.

Her release built slowly - then suddenly broke. She screamed as it crashed through her in waves, burning brighter and hotter still. Every nerve ending felt raw, pulsing, aching, searching for more even as she reached her peak.

Carlisle drew back to watch her - he urged her on, and she gripped his forearm, screaming his name as she lost herself completely to a higher, deeper, more consuming pleasure.

Carys fell back against the bed, completely boneless.

Carlisle slowed, removed his hands from her, and she sighed. She felt as if she were floating. For long seconds she was lost to the world - her mind blank, utter peace filled her.

She'd always wondered what they meant, calling it the Le Petit Mort - the little death. Now she understood.

Carlisle's lips on her neck slowly brought her back to life - she glided her hands gently, lovingly over his skin. He had removed the last of his clothing in the time it took her to resurface, and was stroking one long finger in and out of her wet channel.

Carys reached between their bodies to close her hands around him.

He slipped his finger from her wet flesh and gripped the backs of her thighs, settling them high against his flanks, urging himself against her.

He should have prepared her more - added another finger or two to stretch her - but he couldn't wait any longer.

"Put me inside you," he whispered against her lips.

Every muscle flexed and tightened with the need to sink straight home - instead, he gritted his teeth and endured her hands stroking his flesh until she'd warmed him and familiarised herself with what would soon be inside her.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined what she looked like when she came minutes before.

Nothing had ever come close to the sight, and nothing ever would. It was branded on him forever - burned into what little soul he had left. If not for his own need clawing at him as violently as it was, he might have taken the time to see if she could do it again - immediately.

He gripped her hips and tilted, opening her to him when she finally began to move. Carys pressed the broad head of his erection to her, bathing him in scalding wet heat.

Carlisle's lungs locked - he wrestled control of himself, refusing to give in to the need to thrust home just yet.

He was large to begin with, and as she'd said, hard as stone. They had been together for months. Though he'd never asked, he didn't think she'd slept with anyone for at least a couple of months before that. He didn't want to hurt her.

He wanted her to give herself to him over and over again. Completely. Eagerly. Without the slightest reservation.

He eased himself slowly, inch by inch into her slick wet heat. Carys gasped, trying to relax around him. He withdrew a little before pushing deeper - she slid her hands up and over his tightly flexed muscles. He was large, but not so much so that she couldn't take him when he waited for her body as he was. It was the unyielding hardness of him that stretched her painfully.

She wasn't ignorant to the way he was holding himself back. Even though her mind and body focused entirely on where they were joined, some spark of consciousness broke through - telling her that she had to hold still while he worked himself inside her.

His face contorted with need. Frowning with concentration, a small crinkle appeared in his forehead - a muscle twitched in his jaw. He looked as if he were in more pain than her, but she understood it for what it was.

Eventually, he sat back on his heels, lifted her hips, and drew her onto him until he was seated deep within her.

Carys gasped, clutched at the parts of him she could reach - struggled to breathe.

He waited, held himself still through her whimpers, until, after a minute, she felt herself ease about him. Her muscles relaxed, clamping around him, and the burning at her entrance began to dull.

He groaned - a gutteral sound that she felt deep within her, and she moaned in response. "Ready?"

She nodded, then remembered his eyes were closed and let her eyelids fall shut. "Yes," she breathed. "Ready."

She expected him to withdraw and thrust, but instead he settled his thumb over her clit.

Carlisle opened his eyes - waited, stroking gently, rhythmically until he had her whimpering his name over and over - then he moved.

Slowly at first - with long, steady strokes. Carys clamped her thighs against him and caught on to the rhythm. Five strokes of his thumb to one, long thrust. Over, and over, and over, until she didn't think she could take any more.

"Carlisle," she pleaded, again and again, until suddenly, without warning, he lifted her higher, pressed up onto his knees, and thrust home. She hadn't realised he wasn't completely inside her before. He followed her down, capturing her lips, swallowing her scream, stretching her body to its limit.

Then he surrounded her.

His elbows bracketed her head, hands holding her wrists tight, pressing them against the headboard. Each heavy thrust set her aflame - the abrasion of his chest hair eased the need for friction, but he stoked the fire hotter - rolling his hips, grinding against her clit.

Carys lost the rhythm after long minutes, reaching, searching for something she hadn't realised she could achieve. He clasped her hands together in one of his and lowered the other to her breast, kneading it, rolling and pulling at her nipple with a gentleness completely at odds with the bruising pace.

So very Carlisle, to remind her how gentle he could be.

He drove her on relentlessly, until she wrenched her lips away - turned her face away from his, trying desperately to breathe. Carlisle buried his face in her neck and slammed his hips against hers, a deep growl emanating from his chest - he flexed his spine, rolling against her.

He picked up the pace again. When she whimpered at the bruising pistoning of his hips, he slowed just enough. Higher and higher, he worked her, until nothing existed save for the joining of their bodies.

Carys came hard, with far less warning this time - spasming around him, drawing him with her to the edge.

He held himself still, pressed deep, until the rippling of her orgasm slowly ceased clamping around him. He began to thrust again - fast, hard strokes - shouted, "Carys! Fuck!" and reared back.

Carys opened her eyes and watched him as he pumped into her over and over again. She trailed her hands over his tight muscles, moaning his name when his dark eyes locked on hers.

His thrusts became more erratic, jaw clenching, until every muscle seized. She realised his hands had left her, tightening into fists when his orgasm hit, protecting her from the strength of his pleasure. His rhythm broke, and she screeched, starting as a surge of cold filled her deep inside.

Carlisle collapsed, having had just enough forethought to catch himself before he crushed her. He lay - cushioned by her soft warmth, hauling in breaths his mind knew he didn't need, but which his body demanded all the same - until the last of the euphoric pleasure faded.

Carys was caressing his hair when he came back to himself. He turned his head and lifted - just enough to press nuzzling, soft kisses across her face and neck. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, searching her face for signs of discomfort. He should have lifted completely away and checked her, but he couldn't move just yet.

Carys' beautiful eyes slowly opened. He counted each fleck, losing himself in the depths. She smiled then - the slow, languid smile of complete satiation - the primal part of him preened.

Then she shifted under him.

Her eyes widened on a shocked gasp when he hardened instantly, still buried deep inside her.

He raised an eyebrow, rocked against her, and wished he could be more sure of her answer.

"Again?"