Is this another lemon I see before me? The one following Carys dressing up as Cleopatra? Disclaimer: I don't pretend to be able to write lemons very well, I'm sorry!

The door swung shut behind Carys.

Carlisle's gaze raked over her body, and she found she lacked the patience required to make things last. She wanted him; she couldn't wait any longer. It had been months already.

Raising her hands to the twin clasps which held her dress in place over her shoulders, she released them, letting the fabric slide down her body to pool at her feet.

Carlisle eyes burned with raw lust as he looked her over, scanning her body from head to toe.

"My god, darling," he whispered reverentially.

No matter when or where it was, he made her forget the flaws she saw in her body, and imagine herself as he saw her - as she saw him - perfect in every way - made just for one another.

Carys' moan was lost to Carlisle's lips as he fell upon her in an instant. His hands touched everywhere at once. Their tongues - one soft and warm, the other hard and cool - tangled in the safety of her mouth. Carlisle gripped the back of her neck, securing her against him.

His free hand continued to roam her body, and she welcomed the shivers that came before he slowly warmed to the touch.

Their kiss quickly grew more heated, desperate, needy.

He'd already bared his torso, and Carys' hands explored his exposed skin, his muscles tensing wherever she touched.

Abandoning her neck, he dragged both hands down over the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips, to cup her buttocks, kneading her flesh, pressing her more firmly against him.

They moaned together as he lifted her just enough to rock her core against his erection, straining against the fabric of his trousers.

She felt the soft rug against her back before she fully realised he'd laid her down, his hands moving up, over her thighs, her belly, to close about her breasts, his fingers reaching the swells of each as he palmed them, moulding them to his hands.

Carys wrapped her legs around his waist, stroking her hands over the taut muscles of his back. So often when he made slow love to her, she clutched him there, flattened her palms to him, raked her nails over his stone hard skin.

Carlisle broke their frantic kiss when Carys began to scramble desperately for air.

His mouth didn't leave her. Following the curve of her jaw, he laved the skin of her neck, returning to suckle the lobe of her ear, drawing a deep moan from her before he made his way down to her collarbone.

Carys' hands shifted when he moved lower, unable to caress his lower back or hips any longer. She gripped his shoulders and biceps in turn, crying out when he replaced one hand with his mouth.

Securing his lips around the peak of her breast, he waited until Carys' dazed eyes twinkled as she arched against him, half-closed and lustful.

Venom roared through his body, coursing through him. He could hear her heart beat a staccato rhythm in her chest, could smell her arousal on the air.

He could taste her.

Her scent surrounded him, called to him. He was uncomfortably hard and growing harder by the second from the promise of what would come.

Rolling her nipple between his fingers, he kneaded, careful not to neglect any part of her as he lavished the other with his tongue and lips. It was second nature now - to temper himself in this regard. Her pleasure was forefront on his mind - the first and most pressing of the urgent demands.

Both sides of him - the part he hid feel deep - the feral vampire, and the part he believed to be himself - the man - approved of the near immediate fulfillment of this need in equal measure.

He took his time, giving additional, incredibly partial, attention to each of her breasts, kissing, licking, suckling her before moving steadily on, his mouth meandering a path down her body.

Carys' heart thudded in her chest. If he was planning to do what she thought he was...

"Look at me," he commanded.

His tone sent a thrill through her. She shivered, lifting her head to watch.

His shoulders wedged her legs apart. He stroked one long finger over her, parting her, barely touching the bundle of nerves that sparked to life sometimes at the merest touch of his darkened gaze.

He was teasing her. Driving her mad with lust. She bucked against him, wanting - needing more. The risk of what he was about to do added an edge to the pleasure.

Without taking his eyes from her, he slid his hands under her thighs. Gripping her hips, he held her in place and ever so slowly lifted her to his mouth.

"Oh my god!"

Pleasure speared through her. Carlisle moved slowly, licking her, tasting her, teasing her until she gripped his hair, tugging him where she needed his attention most. She whined his name; he accepted her plea with a strained smile, returning his attention to the bundle of nerves.

Raising his head, he smirked when she immediately tried to push him back down.

"Your breasts."

Carys' hands went automatically to her breasts, cupping, massaging the aching flesh. She was far more interested in what he was - or wasn't - doing. He didn't return to the epicenter of her need until she began to tweak her nipples.

Then, he dropped his mouth to her again, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

The pleasure increased, deepened. Watching him while he watched her, she could barely keep her eyes open after a few moments.

He knew her body well - what made her beg, stifle her cries, come with mind-blowing intensity.

He brought her quickly to the edge and held her there, slowing, kissing her inner thighs, widening the circles of his tongue, letting her body calm just enough before he restarted the cycle.

His hands and shoulders kept her in place through it all. She cried his name, reduced to sobbing her need with every long stroke of his tongue over her wet entrance as he held the peak just out of reach.

Carlisle was relentless. Carys lost track of time, trembling and writhing, abandoning her body to clutch at every part of him she could reach, twisting her fingers in his long hair.

She knew the moment her moans proved too much for him to ignore. His fingers sank into the flesh of her bottom, and he sped up, licking her faster and faster and faster still.

Then, finally - finally! - he sent her careening over the edge with a drawn out gasp.

The pleasure sharpened. It was suddenly all too much. She was too sensitive to endure any more. She pushed at him desperately, and he moved lower, lapping at her entrance. That was better. Cradling his head for long minutes, she floated. Her mind was blank, her body boneless with relief.

At last, Carlisle rose over her.

Carys moaned, her lips parting under his as he kissed her hungrily. He tasted of a combination of venom and her - an erotic, heady mixture.

Locking her arms around his neck, she urged him over her, but he held back, smiling against her lips.

"Patience, love."

He caught her hands when they moved quickly over his shoulders and down his chest.

"I want to... touch... you at least," she breathlessly complained. "Taste you."

"Not yet."

"Why?"

Carlisle ran his tongue over her lips, gathering the last of her that lingered there. "Because it's been too long. I don't want this to be over before it starts."

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he lifted her from the rug, strode to the desk and set her bottom onto the edge, urging her to lie back once again.

Carys opened herself to him without the slightest hesitation, though she was surprised she had the strength to. One knee hooked around his waist and she spread her thighs wide, drawing him flush against her.

The primal part of him roaring its approval, Carlisle accepted the invitation. The hot wet velvet heat of her burned him through the last barriers. Blind with lust, he caught himself just before he freed his erection and sank deep.

It was no mean feat.

It was the same every time. An immutable fact. It would be that way for eternity.

Not just yet. He had to hold on. He wanted to make it last, to draw out their pleasure. Why, he couldn't quite be sure when she was all but thrusting against him.

He wanted to give her time to adjust.

That was it.

He was trying to be gallant.

Carys wriggled and moaned anew, grabbing at his belt, pulling him more firmly against her. "Carlisle," she whimpered, "please. You're supposed to be compassionate. Be kind. I need you inside me. Now."

He was lost.

He made such quick work of removing his belt and trousers that she jumped and giggled - he silenced her by notching himself against her, nudging inside just a little, gritting his teeth as the tip of his erection was bathed in the now familiar furnace of her body.

They sighed in unison - she met his half-lidded darkened gaze with her own.

Slowly, relentlessly, he sank deep, stretching her on a deliberate, drawn out thrust. He withdrew just as slowly and she murmured her displeasure, sighing again when he thrust - deeper this time.

He repeated the movement.

Carys arched, a sweet frown of concentration coming over her face as she gripped his forearms and thrust her hips to meet him, taking him all the way.

"Yessss," she hissed.

Carlisle bent low, resting his forehead against her collarbone. If he didn't distract her now, she'd be the death of them both. He loved hearing her, but she was clamped so tightly around him, he needed a minute.

"I've missed this," he whispered against her breast.

How Carlisle could ever be anything other than... Carys reached up, gently stroking his hair to soothe him, trying and failing to finish the thought.

She turned her face to his, pressing a kiss to the long still pulse point behind his ear, catching her breath. "I've missed it... too." Smirking a moment later, she admitted, "I wanted our argument to end..., like this."

Carlisle's lips lifted. He grinned against her skin. It hurt to smile - it hurt to stay completely still. His muscles coiled, tensing further. If he wasn't careful...

"That's why I left and locked the door."

"Because you didn't want to?"

"Because I couldn't trust myself not to take you then and there, good sense be damned," he groaned, his voice velvet smooth and straining.

Carys chuckled, a low thready, sound that pulsed where they were joined. It was delicious - to have him so hard and deep inside her again. She purposefully clenched around him, drawing a strangled groan from deep within his chest.

"That's where you're supposed to say you wanted to remind me I was yours or something."

Frowning, Carlisle pulled back to arch a brow, staring down into her glinting eyes. Hadn't she realised it was he who was hers?

There was so much she kept forgetting they couldn't do. He'd nearly lost himself when she told him she wanted to taste him. One day he wouldn't have to endure the exquisite sensuality of her attentions in that regard, driven to the point of madness at having to stay still, unable to move, much less come, in case he or his venom hurt her.

No.

He hoped she never realised just how desperate his need for her was; just how much she tested centuries of hard-won control. At the very least, not until she was a vampire - quite a while off.

He rocked against her. Her pupils dilated a fraction more. His jaw clenched. She licked her lips. He growled, dragging his hand over her breast, plucking the tight bud.

"It's not going to be slow or gentle if it's up to me," he warned. "If you want slow, you need to tell me."

Carys responded with abandon and an utter lack of self-preservation - as she had so many times before. Throwing her arms above her head, she held on to the edge of the desk, bracing herself, sliding her leg up and over his shoulder, taking him just a little deeper.

"Hard, fast, and now sounds about right," she insisted.

Carlisle lost his breath. His senses focused on her and her alone. On her body. Her breath. The feel of her, soaking wet and burning hot, locked around him. Her scent. Her racing pulse.

Wanton.

"Tsk," she purred. He hadn't realised he'd spoken the word. "Would you rather we stopped?"

Not quite trusting his voice, he stroked his hands over her thighs. Lifting her hips from the desk, he withdrew almost completely.

And thrust home.

She grunted, biting down on her lip.

He paused - long enough for Carys to adjust her hold on the desk, to squeeze her thighs, pulling him to her. His hips jerked back, he thrust a little harder.

She screamed.

If he could grin now, he would have. "There's no one else here," he reminded her, "I want to hear you."

Carys met his heavy thrusts, giving herself over to him, clearing her mind of any conscious thought to hold back.

A while later, losing his tempo a little, Carlisle rasped, "Can you?"

Carys wasn't sure... It didn't seem like... "No," she whispered, forcing the word out on a moan. "Just-you!"

It was a sheer unaltered pleasure, but not one which would lead to another orgasm after the one he'd given her. She loved - craved - having him inside her - making love, hard and fast or slowly and ever so gently - but often the orgasm at was out of reach. It made no difference. It was him she craved above all.

And he would take care of her again, just as he always had before.

He responded by lifting her other leg over his shoulder as he leaned over her, almost pressing her knees to her chest, the speed and strength of his thrusts increasing.

Carys ran her hands over his chest, his abdomen, down and around their bodies to cup his bottom, feeling the muscles tense and release with every thrust.

It wasn't long before his frown deepened, the tendons in his neck and arms straining. Eyes closed, his head tipped back as he groaned and thrust faster, harder still, almost to the limits of what she could bear.

He removed his hands from her, laying them flat on the desk to either side of her hips, then curled them into fists.

His groans deepened.

His lips parted.

He was close.

Carys loved watching him almost as much as he loved watching her. When he'd just recently hunted, as he had now, his cheeks were a little flushed, the colour staining a darker hue above his cheekbones.

"Come for me," she whispered.

It was as if she'd issued a command, just as he had that she watched him.

"Carys!" he shouted as he came. Thrusts slowing, he rode out his orgasm, drawing it out.

Chest heaving, Carys let her legs fall over his shoulders when he finally stopped moving.

Carlisle drew back just enough to let her, chuckling as he caught them. "Is it wrong?" he asked, letting her thighs rest against his flanks, lowering over her again to catch his breath, "That I wish I could sleep now?"

Carys giggled.

"It is," she told him, losing her breath when he pulled out of her. He raised an eyebrow. "I feel like I just ran ten miles," she explained, "and I'd still be very open to going for a far slower round two."

Carlisle chuckled and gathered her in his arms, lifting her face so that he could cover her skin with soft, sweet kisses.