Again, thank you for your patience and loyalty. I feel like I need to make it clear that this chapter has been long in the making. I've had this chapter planned about as long as I had the idea of the story and I hope it plays off just as well. I'm super grateful for your amazing comments and would be just as grateful if you wanted to leave them again.

Thank you. And do not fret- all will be explained. Much appreciation.

Thursday:

It's important to point out that it's not Edward's fault that he's obsessing over every act I choose to busy myself with from this moment forth. He's clearly not impressed by the fact that I have declined an overnight stay at Esme's resort (meaning the hospital) and leads us back inside with a tense stomp to his walk. I shouldn't blame him too much for that but I want to.

Contrary to earlier impressions, I'm glad to know that I prove myself wrong to my assumptions of his bad mood. Neither of the lads had told him anything during their drive to our rescue last night. The simple argument that tumbled around was the easy: 'I didn't see what happened?' But with my favoured secrecy comes the girls' horror.

It means that Officer Swan comes to our front door early this morning, before dawn, with Edward in an explosive mood. He's hovering over the phone, mentioning Carlisle's name every two minutes because he's desperate for me to confess all and secure his innocence. He's already phoned twice. Not for long. They were short quick rings, simply testing out whether we were available or not. In this case it was not.

An easy lie is better than a hard truth in this instance. It's just lucky that on both occasions I had held the phone in my hand.

So Officer Swan stands stoically in our front room, very much in work mode despite the dark rings under his eyes and the darkness outside. Much to her disgrace, Edward is quick in ushering Alice out. He weakly promises to phone later though as far as I'm aware this is another quick lie to give me peace at mind. Jasper wishes me luck as he squeezes past Charlie, and I hug Alice on her way out, tightly, encasing her into my arms.

'I love you.' She whispers. 'Please don't be angry at me?'

But I just squeeze her hand and watch her leave. The moment they're gone, half my stress does as well and I can give in to the dire look of exhaustion that's been burdening my face for an evening.

'So?' Charlie begins, watching Edward wearily. I don't doubt that it's Bella's love for the guy that has encouraged this visit. But now I've mentioned Bella I think about the reason Charlie's here in the first place and I'm overcome with so much embarrassment that I back away from the two men, tighten my arms around myself and hold in the remnants of my calm.

'Coffee?' I offer pathetically, already retreating towards the kitchen. Edward goes to stop me and misses, groaning out loudly when he reads my cause for action.

'Whatever will make you feel better.' Charlie says quickly and he takes a place in Carlisle's revision seat, laying out a piece of paper on the table and smoothing it flat.

'Sit down, Es.' Edward tells me, gently.

'I'm perfectly capable-'

'Esme.' He looks carefully to our guest before shoving those green eyes down my soul. 'The quicker it's done-'

'Please, Edward. I just want to-'

'Sit down.' He insists, and pulling out a chair he leaves me quite alone with a man who quite a few hours ago, I was looking to as my life's saviour. Now he just seems so adult. Charlie offers a tight smile and looks me dead in the eye.

'It won't take long.' He comforts. I feel like it's a forced comment and I'm very aware that even though Edward has suggested the façade of privacy, he's very much got his attention on us.

'Have the others-?'

Officer Swan cuts me off with a nod. A nod which leaves my chest feeling tight.

'Where do I have to start?'

It has to be said again that Edward's explosive mood is somewhat warranted. We seem to skim over the events of the evening with Edward appearing and reappearing from the hidden confines of the kitchen. He keeps testing out invasion practices, raising a question at every opportunity and receiving the sharp 'I'm just tired!'

Finally however, we come full circle.

'And you know who it was?' Charlie asks. He's spent the last forty minutes scribbling away, forcing the reluctant words from my throat with ease and a gentleness that I hadn't expected. This question catches me. This is the one I've been avoiding. Especially with the Kid's eyes on my back.

'I-er-?'

Charlie is patient, waiting for me to find the bravery. Edward however, is not.

'You know who it was?!'

'Son.' Charlie warns, using something as simple as a look to tell him to distance himself from the table.

It's a weird thing to happen and simply ends up making Edward look more of a villain than is the case. He's not used to the open testing of authority so instead of using his tone to convey his distress, he uses his face. The cold look he gives me is so betrayed that for a moment I'm sure he's more pissed off at me than the bottle thrower.

'Yes but -' To be completely honest I'm so unsure with what I want that I just leave this comment to hang there while Charlie waits. And he does wait. 'It's just a co-worker.' I mumble eventually.

'Tilly?!' Edward roars. I jump from the volume and try my best to swallow my guilt. He'd been doing so well at pretty much keeping his cool until this moment. 'Tilly did this?!'

'Mr. Masen, don't make me remind to keep your tone in check!'

The blush on the Kid's face hides beneath the devastation of his anger. I almost fear he's going to bugger up his chances with Bella by telling her father to 'Go Fuck himself'.

'But Tilly?!' He repeats, carefully now, stepping closer to the table. A cold look is cast to him and out of duty he steps back. I don't say anything.

'Aw fuck this Es. I'm phoning Carlisle!'

'You can't!' I squeak at him. 'Please, Edward! You know how angry he'll be?'

Jesus, since when did I beg Edward? Quite obviously since I didn't want to seem like a weak ass feeble woman clinging onto the attention of Zeus. That was the look I reserved for private.

'It's exactly why I'm phoning!' He has his cell in his grip, squeezing it tightly, thumb pressing into the screen, unaware of the possible damage he's causing.

'No one is phoning anybody.' Charlie gruffs. Edward flinches again, deliberating between the two of us before really giving in to his temper and throwing as much polite passion as he can into my face.

'Don't make me lie to him, Esme! I won't do it!'

'Edward, please. Look I'm fine. I'm okay-'

'You call this fine?!' He yells, angling his palm towards my head.

'Volume, Mr. Masen!'

'Look at the state of you, Esme!'

This line hasn't come out in the way it was intended. Charlie's horror is enough to prove that. But I let my fingers comb the roots of my hair, close to where the bottle hit without touching the mark that stains it. I look to my palms and worry about how deathly I look with my drowsy eyes and my pale skin. In all- I'm more like the horror of my painting than Carlisle is. Edward shakes his head, forcing himself to his feet to move away before he really does give off the wrong impression.

'Last name?' Charlie probes hopefully.

I don't reply.

'Esme!' Edward chides.

'Look, I don't remember, okay?! I don't remember and I can't remember and it would help if you would stop yelling!'

Edward crumbles slightly but clearly not enough. He hides his hand in his hair, wrenching the locks from his scalp as he holds in his tantrum. Give it three minutes and he'll be stamping his feet.

'That's it. I don't remember anymore.'

Charlie looks disappointed but ultimately respects my decision, taking a deep breath and signing the bottom of his paper. I sign it too, with a sloppy, unrestrained signature which is enough to appease him.

'You can always return if you remember it later.' He murmurs, standing away from his seat and sizing up Edward. Edward's staring at me, wound up and positively burning with the desire to drown himself. It's a look I can empathise with.

'Thank you, Sir.'

'Look after yourself, Esme. Get some rest.'

I nod gently, letting my gaze fall to the floor to avoid further embarrassment. 'Goodnight, Charlie.' Or rather good morning.

Edward tries to thank him a few million times but they are much refuted and just to help him out a bit- I wait till Charlie is climbing into his car to prove I trust Edward enough to lean into him. He's tense, rigid with the need to explode into a song of curses. The car leaves.

'Phone him.' Is the first sentence to fall out of his mouth. I should've expected it really.

'And if I refuse?'

'You know what, Esme? It would be really fucking helpful if you both respected the fact that you're humans!' He surprises me my slamming the door shut and bolting the lock as I've taken to do the last few days. 'Stop trying to create this infallible image!'

'Me?'

He stops himself, teeth biting into his lip as he shakes his head at me. 'Just- just grow up!'

'You're going to lecture me after all your bullshit with Bella?!' I ask, verging on the same sensation of relief that a good tantrum satisfies. 'For fuck sake, Edward! The window isn't even broken!'

It's a tiny insignificant detail which shouldn't matter much to me. But it does. It's another stupid act that helped me run right into the girl's arms and start a vivacious man-hate-girl-drink club.

The washing machine however, was different story

'Just phone him!'

'Why?!'

As I go to stand away from him, I realise that my body is shaking, my hands trembling so violently and my head so painful. My urge is to lunge for his throat.

'Are you really that stupid?! Because you've been hurt and I'm not the one equipped to be dealing with this!' He yells.

I throw the first thing my hands find which is some stupid art book for College. He doesn't flinch from it, just lets it loudly hit him. I'm wondering if I need to make it clear that he's now also been hurt and needs to go running to the landlord for a bandage.

Now is not the time.

'This is exactly why I'm not saying anything! I don't want you fighting my battles for me!'

'For fuck sake, when will you get it through your head?! We're not fighting them for you, Esme. We're fighting them with you!'

I've started shivering. I'm not entirely sure why, I'm probably cold. But Edward sees that and with his fierce scowl dampening, he grabs a blanket from the sofa and wraps it around my shoulders.

'This is exactly why we wanted you to spend time with Alice.' He tells me. I unlock my jaw, shaking my head slowly in disbelief. 'She speaks girl sense.'

'Look Edward, it would be fantastic if you'd stop treating us girls like foreign creatures.'

'We don't mean to.' He mutters, pointing to a seat. Reluctantly, I find myself sitting and watching his response. He looks even more tired now. Though I'm pleased he's made a point of counting himself in the comment. 'I don't mean to.'

'Whatever.' I murmur.

'Look, we need to have a discussion and we need to have it fast because whatever's going on between you guys is confusing this whole-'

'Urgh. I don't need this from you!' What next? A meeting with Emmett? A seminar with Jasper? Should I write to Cullen's father and get his approval, too?

'Esme- just listen to me! We're not getting anywhere if you keep running away.'

So I reseat myself, tying the blanket even tighter around my shoulders. He empties his cell on the table by his side so that the backing falls with scatters. I frown at it.

'Alright first-.' He begins but I cut him off with a sharp tongue and a fierce glare that surprises him.

'First if you lie to me one more time I'll be out of this house quicker than you can question what's happened. And you'll be the one confessing to Cullen why there's one less person to clear up your mess.'

He makes a face but nods. 'Noted.'

'And if you make decisions on what's best for me without my explicit consultation- I'm out. I won't even turn back, Edward and you know it.'

'Fine.' He agrees, reluctantly. 'Fine, but you have to let us help.'

I raise an eyebrow, daring him to fuck up. 'I don't have to do anything.'

'Alright: you don't. But life would be so much easier if you would stop self-sacrificing-'

'That's not-.' I try to argue but he cuts me off.

'Sorry- I missed the part where we discussed what happened with Tilly?'

And as much as I hate it, I know he's right. I rub my head again in hopes it'll slow him down but it only makes him lower his voice.

'That's not a bad thing…' I say quietly.

'Not a bad thing? You're not dealing with anything. Who knows, you might lose your head and jump off a bridge all because you just bottle it all up. We don't want to let you suffer alone. Least of all Carlisle.'

The moment I groan, he rolls his eyes.

'I don't want to talk about this.' I tell him.

'Which is exactly why I have to say it.'

'I don't get involved with Bella! I don't want to be involved, that's your life and it would be nice if- for once- someone would just be on my side.'

'If you would just listen than you'd hear how on your side I really am-' He answers quickly. I try to argue this but he interrupts me, rushing a hand down his T-shirt and sitting uncomfortable. 'Don't let him fuck this up, okay?'

'What?' Alright, fine. I didn't expect him to say that.

'Just don't go rushing into things without thinking. You hardly know him, Esme. You have no idea-'

My mouth has fallen open and more because I'm so bitterly hurt by the accusation rather than the fact I'm angry about the manner he's so arrogantly assumed it. Hilarious. Really, truly hilarious.

They might not be brothers, but even if their relationship was half as similar as my own, admittedly, cantankerous, relationships with my own siblings, I was completely aware that certain perceptions were hand crafted and others were beliefs formed from minute exposures to certain events.

Either way, snippets of the full image.

'You think I don't know him?' I question, quietly.

'You're so completely wound up in- no offence- trying to get him to like you-'

'You don't think I know him?!' I repeat, more aghast this time. He cuts himself off, frowning at me, the same old aged expression on his face as though he's reading my mind. He's just proven that he's a fool to misinterpretation.

'Esme, I've known the man all my life even after your four years-.'

'I can tell you to the day how long I have known him.' Fucking hour more like. 'I can repeat to you every bit of information he has ever given me, I could tell you every given moral he has before he says it himself-.'

'You're priding yourself on false information-' He tries to argue.

'I'm priding myself on his presentation. You're putting this on me! It's my fault that he's supportive. It's my fault that he's so approachable. It's my fault that I don't know him enough-'

'Point being?' He interrupts.

'Point being when is it going to stop being anyone's fault. You claim to know him so badly and you are clutching on to loose straws.'

'Don't make this into a competition.' He says smartly, suddenly uncomfortable in the quick loss of the upper hand. I don't even think there is such a thing as upper hand at the moment. I'm so embarrassed I think I might just burst into flames.

'I'm not doing that Edward- you are! Stop trying to define him so badly! Just let him be him.'

'But-'

'You act like I've just waltzed in here and stolen your buddy!' I say exasperated. He makes a face, tempted almost to smile but hiding it again under his front of offended confusion. 'And you're still doing it.' I groan. He's quiet, questioning me with less than a stare, dark green eyes pouring into mine. So I give in.

Every minute of the past few days have been leading up this point, and though I'm mad at myself for letting it out at Edward and not the man who deserves it- I'm also unashamedly grateful it is Edward I'm talking to. I inhale deeply as though I might never get such a breath like it and finally, let the natural soft sound of my words comfort him.

'How long has he liked me, Edward?'

He snorts, throwing his arms across his chest and shaking his head curtly. 'I'm not answering that and you know it.'

'A year maybe?' I guess, politely. 'Two?'

That was pushing it by a long shot. It was more than likely to be the fact that my... nightly habits had possibly introduced Cullen to a new take on life he hadn't considered before. It was less that he liked me and more that he liked the freedom I represent.

'Es,' he says frowning. 'As we've newly established, there's things which he should be telling you. This is one of those things.'

'That's my point. You don't know and I don't blame you for that. But it means you've got to stop taking such a narrow minded view on things.'

I've turned soft now, softer than expected not just as if he were my little brother but as if he were even closer than that and I was offering my many lessons on life to him. Despite his grievances, he seems to be doing better than expected at listening.

Here goes...

'Did you know I asked him out in our first year?' I've hidden my face now, glaring rather at my hands because I can't bear to hear the realisation in his voice.

'What?' He looks hard at me, like I've just let something horrible fly out my mouth and he's been dealt with the disaster of clearing it up. It says all that it needs to and he stays angled in a way that shows he doesn't know where to run to.

'Exactly. He turned me down, which was fine. It was polite and all very normal and like normal human beings, we moved on.'

He has his jaw open and I can just read how innately furious he is at himself for reasons that don't even matter.

'You asked him out?! Like properly?!'

Several times. The only word that comes to mind is disgust. He looks disgusted.

'I asked for a date and he declined.' I say with a shrug. 'These aren't unreasonable feelings for me Edward. Sure they're a little overpowering sometimes and might look naïve but they're not… unwarranted.'

For the life of me, I don't think he ever looks at me quite the same after this point. But for once, we seemed to reach a satisfied common ground and it means that finally I get six hours of restless and intermittent sleep.

It doesn't matter that my head is sore because it's Thursday afternoon. I have the day off- because I refuse to attend my classes for today- and I can reward myself in that I have spent four days away from Carlisle without even slightly regretting my choice. I may have a headache that's enough to silence me and I may miss him like crazy but I've achieved four days.

That means something, right?

Apparently not. The only thing it means is that I'm more desperate for his attention than I might have been for the beginning of the week. And with Alice forbidding me on one hand and Edward trying to enforce some question of guidance on the other, I find I'm in the middle of a disgustingly perfect situation.

I speak to Alice a little on the phone after midday and although she drops my bag round from yesterday, she doesn't stay longer than half-an-hour. The others have sent me messages asking how I am, Emmett sent a chain email and Edward has wound himself into such confused temper that he's decided that it's best to rectify the impression he might have given the Swans. For once, I can agree.

He leaves me one small note on the top of the piano before heading to lessons: Tell him.

And I wonder if this is for my head or my-. Oh God that sounds so lame, doesn't it?

Instead, I fuss around reading in Carlisle's room for a long time, dressed in his blue button down, warm in his clothes and comfortable in Edward's absence. I read long into the evening, till my eyes are heavy but no matter how heavy my eyes are- my mind is crazy busy. I can't be sure if it's the antibiotics in my system, or just the heart aching painful act of missing him now that I've found some element of peace but every time I settle into a comfortable seating, I end up overcome with Carlisle on my mind. Of him shirtless, leering over me protectively, his hand weak my waist. Or I think of him teasing me, laid under his posture as he relishes my every breath. Or his tongue, hot and quick and shy, melting against mine as-

Without as much as a realisation my hand kneads the skin under my breast, touching the heartbeat, feeling his-.

The phone rings. The home phone this time and it very dramatically pulls me out of my daydream. Edward isn't home. So it might be him phoning? It could be anyone phoning. It could be Charlie. Or the boys. Or- work. The only thing that pulls my feet from his bed is the stress of the phone's constant ringing stinging my head. So trundling down the stairs, I pick it up hesitantly.

'Esme, speaking.' I murmur thickly into the receiver.

'Miss Platt.' And my heart sinks into my stomach. 'I caved and brought a spare phone. Please don't judge me?'

'Never.' I promise weakly, finding enough energy to let out a breathless sigh or two which ultimately turns into several giggles. And then few more.

'It isn't a bad time is it?' Carlisle asks attentively and he's shy and worried but also severely intrigued. Surprised by this comment I laugh more, letting my nervous giggles evolve into playful chuckles. 'What? What is it I've interrupted?'

'Nothing.' I whisper, still highly amused by such a simple interruption for a Thursday evening.

'Are you sure? I can let you get back to it?'

At this, I laugh even more, soaking in his words in full appreciation of his ignorance. 'No, no. I'm here. I'm yours.'

'Mine?' He repeats playfully and I almost wonder if this is a line I should not have so rashly crossed. 'Anyway, are you okay? How was your evening yesterday?'

'Busy.' I say dismissively. 'I… I had a bit of an accident, too. But I'm fine?' I'm hoping this counts as honesty.

'What? Are you okay?'

'Completely. Small cut but perfectly fine. Can't walk two feet without getting into trouble, can I?'

'I can get on the next flight?'

Someone is clearly far too eager. I'm kinda loving it.

'You don't need to.' I insist, halfheartedly. 'Please don't worry?'

As expected, he's reluctant to give in so easily but eventually I hear him breathe a few chuckles into the receiver. 'Well as long as it's nothing serious? What on Earth are we going to do with you, ey?'

'I know. I'm worse than Bella,' I sigh and even though this is still a half lie, I feel like it's enough to grant me permission to feel better about not completely lying to him.

'Suppose next time, we'll just have to tie you somewhere. Make sure you don't get up to any mischief?'

…

Come on, how that not be deliberate?!

'Sounds like my kind of fun.' I tell him down the line, trying hard to hide my grin though it's positively taking over my face. 'Though I can't make promises about mischief?'

Before he has chance to throw a bucket of ice cold chastity onto my teasing, I quickly change the subject.

'So this isn't too late a call for you is it?'

'Not at all. I'm rather pleased I had an excuse to leave early. Are you sure you're okay, you sound… groggy?'

I clear my throat, walking over to the sofa and laying upon it like a teenager with a crush.

'I'm fine. So tell me about your week? I want to hear everything!'

And just like always- I suddenly forget that I'm meant to be miserable, that my head is sore, that I ache all over and I'm fed up of people trying to alter every step I take. I just listen to his voice and love him that little bit more.

'It's full of disappointing excuses I'm afraid.' He warns delightfully.

'That's okay, I think I could use some.' I don't know if he understands me but there's a sound of his warm chuckle.

'Well Sunday was insane. Thousands of delays from one end to the other and surprise, surprise- I was incredibly late landing. So because the plane was delayed, the car didn't pick me up so I had to hire one and half way to the hotel, it broke down.'

'Oh Jesus, Carlisle. That's awful!'

He seems delighted by my apparent enthusiasm in his conversation and even more so by the appreciative hums I add. But those are more for the pleasure at hearing his voice again rather than what he wants to tell me.

'It ended with me completely gutting the intestines of the exhaust manifold, and reworking it all back together in the dark before realising it was a distributor problem. My hands have never been so black.'

Why is this such a sexy image? Him in a shirt on a bitterly cold night, ripping out the tubing, coated in oil and grease all up his arms. Well, I am most certainly on a journey today...

'No wonder why you were tired, Hon. Sounds like quite the work out...'

He pauses momentarily and I imagine the sweet little raise of his eyebrows as he questions my flirting. He had called me Hon so many times in comparison to the one or two times I had braved myself in testing the sound. For the second at least- it doesn't seem to be a bother.

'Admittedly, I was feeling quite sorry for myself.'

'You had every right to.' I reassure him easily. 'I imagine it was hard work. And explains why you could barely talk on the phone.'

'Perhaps, though I was sorry to miss the opportunity to hear your voice. Nevertheless, your Sunday? Is my car still in one piece?'

'Of course.' I say with a teasingly blind smile. 'I fought Edward for the drive home and won.'

He congratulates me sweetly and pretty soon we fall so much into a routine that it takes a while to return to the original path of conversation. In all, his week has been insane. Less than a holiday than we might've expected and he's been spread so thin that I can hear how tired he is from a flight away. He still makes a gentle offer on returning home but I loosely reject it and try to ignore the guilt that stings my crown.

'For example, were you aware that the cost of hiring a jet-'

'Carlisle!' I dismiss with a laugh and his warm chuckle is slipping over my shoulders like water.

But he's still cheerfully teasing, skirting the lines of saying the inevitable while I wait patiently for them and of course- I don't say a word about my head.

'So you enjoyed your evening yesterday?'

'You should still expect to be in a lot of trouble for that.' I force yet another smile even though he's not here to see it. 'Considering certain stories?'

'We couldn't think of a better reason to get you out the house?' he confesses, hurriedly. I hear him moving now, possibly pacing from one side of the room to the other, something banal happening in the background. 'Every excuse you'd see right through so we ended up appealing to your need to help... Sorry.'

'Well now I am disappointed.' I bring my leg up to cross over the other, folding and unfolding against the hem of the shirt and imaging how he would tuck the front into pants, tighten the buckle and-. Um. Stuff. 'I'd usually trust your creativity to be far better than that.' I say, quickly filling the space with my nervous tone.

'Unfortunately, my Dear, you are the designer. We mere mortals are but foolish and insufferable... and incapable of thinking imaginatively.'

'Hm, so I could tell. Nevertheless, what's done is done. And I suppose I enjoyed myself a little...'

'Well now, you no longer sound so enthused?'

Honestly his attention to detail is impressive, particularly considering it's been a day since... but then again... I had half cried down him at the phone, told him I missed his voice and drunkenly tried to entice him back home while stating the opposite.

Now... I am soberly trying to entice him back home though I continue to say the opposite.

'I'm not drunk anymore.' I tell him honestly and I'm so far from being drunk it makes my head spin. 'But enough of me. Give the details. Tell me what your hotel is like?'

I'm concerned that this is falling into confession territory so quickly, particularly with my thoughts on his desperate return so I swing my feet off the edge of the sofa, look towards the door to ensure its locked and take the stairs to his room. My steps are slow, my feet weary and with the phone still to my ear, I try to make myself sound less breathless.

'Oh, super fancy.' He tells me, honestly. 'Quite ridiculous really. You'd probably enjoy it here.'

'I'm sure I would.' I sigh, choosing not to hold back. He continues as carefree as he did before and that simple act is making me miss him even more than I thought I did.

'The bed is huge. Not exactly warm, nor comfortable but still huge. There's some fancy sofa on the end like you see in the movies and the TV here has every channel I could think of-'

'Every channel?' I tease him. There's a pause, a pause and perhaps what could be heard as an intake of breath.

'Hold that thought?' And for no particular reason, I shiver. 'You should see the shower though, Es. You'd love it. The water falls from a faucet in the celing. As heavy as Niagara Falls. Great for the trapezius muscles. Honestly, we should have one installed. It's one of the few things here that's actually helping me to relax.'

I could see it. The way he'd hesitate by the glass door, utterly naked to the eye though not cold and the moment he steps into the flow of water, those broad shoulders would soften. He'd tilt his straight jaw up towards the source, eyes held closed as it rained hard onto his skin. First by his open lip, slipping from the flesh like a release. Then down his chin, gathering at his collar bone in tears. They would weep then, sob through the carved shapes of his angles, hang in the crevices of his abdomen, pool in his navel, follow that fine trail of hair towards the direction of his-.

Oh my God I'm drooling.

'One of the few things?' I repeat, exaggerating the tone. My teeth have sought my lip and out of starvation, I nibble the skin there.

'Yet another double entendre, Miss Platt?'

I'm convinced that if he keeps whispering foreign phrases down the phone line, I'll be on my way to Doctor-induced orgasm any second. The unconscious roll of his 'R's set my shoulders going as if I'd just lent against the Washer on the 'tough stain' cycle. My skin has also started to flush.

'Perhaps you ought to exercise that imagination, Cullen.' And I swear to God, I hear him gulp.

'Okay,' he whispers 'So, urm, these films, then…?'

'Enlighten me?' I murmur, breathing easily and settling myself on the bed in the same manner. I repeat that dance twist with my legs again, holding my legs en croise devant, pulling my foot towards my knee, stretching the inner thigh, repeating...

'You know what I'm asking, Esme.'

Could there be a better emphasis to my name than in the use of sounding unquestionably testing?

'Yes.' I agree with an outstanding image of confidence. 'Nevertheless, I want you to say it.'

That sudden warmth of being around him returns, running through my thighs and my stomach as I arch my back against the pillows on the bed.

It was a lot easier to be braver with him all the while I wasn't there to see the judgment on his paled face. It added to his tone of authority, took away from the threat of hesitancy and instead warmed his vocal chords with the sweet miracle of suggestion. I could only dream of his expression and for some reason, that was a runaway to my bravery.

'Okay.' He pauses, taking an intake of breath and shuffling. 'Why did you pack porn in my suitcase?'

Could there be a better sentence?

'What are your theories, Carlisle?'

There's another pause and just when I'm sure he's going to avoid an answer, he laughs. 'I mean thank- you. But-. Well they were not exactly, urm, necessary?'

'So you haven't watched them, then.' I guess, using a thick tone to my voice.

Silence.

A heavy silence until those previous words: 'Well, I didn't say that.'

'Carlisle, no you haven't!' Please- please, let this be the day we're just granted the slightest bit of relief.

'Hm. Why pack them if you would be sure I wouldn't watch them?'

'That's irrelevant.' I say quickly, feeling my cheeks grow ever so slightly warmer.

He chuckles again and despite the fact he's not here, I still feel the need to cast my eyes down and fiddle with the first thing my hand touches. Which just so happens to be the top button of this shirt.

'Sometimes, Miss Platt, it's like you refuse to accept I'm not as saintly as you think…'

My voice catches in my throat and I sigh longingly, readjusting myself right into the centre of the bed, entwining myself in the covers. My hand travels slowly from the top open button, to the one just beneath it. My fingers tremble catching the button over and over before it slides through the loop allowing some of the air to touch against my throat.

'Meaning?' I ask

'Meaning,' he utters slowly. 'That I don't need porn to-. I don't need porn?'

After such an awful evening, I can't think of anything I'd like more right now than watch him say these words, the bite of his teeth or the kink of that stupid line of hair above his eye. Listening to them will have to do.

'Well I thought you'd be grateful, it might give you some inspiration?' I tease sweetly, inhaling the soap from the pillows. 'But if you haven't watched them…?'

'I have watched them.' He chuckles. And that warmth seems to spread a little until my fingertips create an itching need. 'But if you need know, in that department, my imagination works wonders...'

It was another suggestion I was just too weak to take in.

'How many times?' I ask, daringly.

'Wouldn't you like to know.'

'Don't tease, Carlisle.' I chastise gently.

He's reluctant but with little less than a fight, sighs and offers his answer. 'Three times.'

Three times? He'd watched them three times? He watched one three times? He'd watched three films one time?

Where were the details?!

'You are joking? What did you do? Take notes?' Three?! Three times?! Why three times? If there was enough on the TV than why would he need to re-watch it?! Was this a sign? Did he have a routine to masturbating?

Did he even masturbate?!

No, wait, I know that one. That's where the confession of the left hand came in. But surely if his imagination is oh so good, three times would be an irritant?

'What do you think I did, Esme?'

Could my name sound hotter than in his voice? Collapsing now into his side of the mattress, I shut my eyes and breathe a little heavier, groan a little in dream of the ideas. Imagining them, his breath heavy, his flushed skin. His pants strained at his lap-.

'You tell me.' I demand, thickly. I have to swallow again because an unforeseen amount of saliva has accumulated in my mouth, my tongue liquidating at the idea.

'Perhaps you should exercise your imagination…' he teases.

'Not shy are you, Doctor Cullen?'

'No, I don't think so.' He tells me, his voice still bouncing playfully.

'I want Details, Carlisle. What did you do?' I hear him unsteadily inhale and then there's movement as he shifts to a bed or something.

'I want, huh?' He surmises, unaware of the very delight he breathes into my veins. 'We are demanding, today, aren't we?'

My grip tightens around the phone in hopes it'll bring him closer to me, my left hand curling around the bed-sheets and tucking them into my diaphragm. 'Not demanding just impatient.'

'Personally, I think I'd like to test that theory and the best way to do that is to-'

'Okay, well what if I gave you some inspiration. Then will you tell me?'

'I'm afraid you've lost me, Miss Platt. What ever do you mean-'

'The washing machine's broken.' I interrupt again. I haven't had chance to check if this is another lie from Edward's end. I don't really care. I'm desperate now. I'd give him anything just to have the confession of that tense left hand wrapped around himself.

'What happened to it?' He's distracted far too easily. I on the other hand can't think of much past the unsavoury type.

'Eurgh I don't know but-'. Pushing aside the blue fabric, I slide underneath the remaining cloth to lay below my stomach, my hand touching my abdomen beneath the panty line. On the one hand, I was barely able to register what I was about too do. On the higher, I was high on hormones, enjoying the silk cloth on sensitive fingertips. I clear my throat. 'I'm all out of clothes…?'

'Esme…' He whispers warningly.

'We could just try?' I urge him. 'The moment you're uncomfortable-'

'I-I don't know if this is a good idea…' he hesitates, clearly struggling to clear his voice. 'For starters it's a bit awkward?' His chuckle only makes me feel braver.

'But you were doing so well just now... and... and I miss you, Carlisle. All of you.'

I imagine him originally frowning at this, confusedly requesting clarification before the suggestion nibbles at his ear. He sighs softly, his voice low against the phone. 'Reckon, I miss you more.'

'Prove it?' I beg him. He chuckles again but this time it evolves into a dark groan for me.

'Please don't make me say it?'

So now I grumble. If there's anything I sure of, it's that I'm not drunk I know I'm not drunk and even if I was still drunk after a whole evening, then I wouldn't want this any less. Despite the antibiotics in my system- the hormones outweigh them. On mind, body and soul.

'Hon, it's practically been a whole day since I phoned you. All three glasses have worn off-'

Let's see if pet names are as persuasive to him as they are to me...

'My Dear, you know as well as I do that it takes twenty four hours for-'

Checkmate. Fuck. I'd have to attempt the personal route

'Carlisle?'

He stops talking, stops doing anything that isn't breathing.

'Is this really what you want?' His tone has turned husky now, but still musically familiar around my neck.

'Is it what you want, too?' I ask back, patient for his dismissal. It doesn't arrive.

'I think you know as well as I do that I'd prefer to be in person.'

Again, I shiver, a knot forming in my gut close to where my hand is sliding against. 'And you will be. Consider this … a warm-up?'

'It's certainly warm in here, alright.'

I sit up now, my eyes on the door with one hand brushing against my skin, teasing and the other still holding him to my ear. He chuckles again, soothingly and I suddenly realise that he's...agreeing? Carlisle Cullen doesn't just agree. He's either for something or he's not. He wants this. He wants me to persuade him. He was making me make him just as horny as I'd made myself.

Surely. He was making me beg for him, plead for his mercy, succumb to his... I was far less wet when I had my tongue in his mouth. The memory send shivers along my spine.

'So if you will, the washing machine is broken?' His resistance is a tease considering he's encouraged the conversation. I laugh a little and so does he.

'Edward phoned me earlier about it.' Though the window down in the living room was very much a deliberate lie to encourage me into the arms of the girls, the same couldn't be said for that.

'You can't do that, Es.' He complains, hiding his amusement with a troublesome sigh.

'Can't do what?'

'You can't be asking for…whatever this is and then throw Edward into the conversation. It's a complete-'

'Turn off?' I offer, cheekily.

'Exactly.'

The way the word presses into my ear almost makes it feel like he could be lying next to me, his arm wound under my waist, his fingertips laced in my hair…

'But I'm all out of fresh pyjamas?'

'You don't wear pyjamas.' He corrects me and I can see the frown of his eyebrows complimenting that dark smirk.

'But I am now?' Slight lie but I don't think that matters.

'Oh… Then what are you-? Wait, don't answer that...'

'You want to know what I'm wearing?'

'Es, this is so weird.' He murmurs, chuckling still.

'Well I've had to make do with the usual: Your T-shirt.' I can almost imagine him rolling his eyes. 'Can be quite uncomfortable, huh Cullen?'

'How so?' He says playfully but his voice is thicker than before and I have to imagine him snuggling into the sheets with his arms up, his eyes closed.

'They're quite tight around the bust?' My hand goes to the open flap of the shirt then up again, following the joint of fabric, feeling it press against the heat of my chest in the rhythm to his tense breathing. 'And you?' I ask, lowly.

He still sounds a little too shy to abandon his natural giggle so he settles for sounding a little short. 'I actually just jumped out the shower about an half an hour ago.'

'Sure you did.'

'I did!' He promises. 'The moment I got back, I went straight in.'

'The waterfall shower?'

'You really would like it.' He sighs. 'It's such a good temperature. Not too hot either.'

'I know a way to make it hotter?' I add pathetically, my tongue in-between my teeth

'Bit cheesy?' He complains but I huff a little and hear his laughter. '…But I'm not in there now. I'm, er, I'm on the bed ?' His change of tone lowers even further and though he's so beautifully shy, I feel my chest tighten a little.

'What are you doing?'

'Talking to you?' He tries but this is followed by a half-hearted groan and I hear him shift about. 'Well I guess I'm drying off…'

'Not dressed?' I question, my chest rising as I think about it.

'In a towel.'

But where is the towel? On his calves? On his ankle? His thighs, his stomach, up around his arm, on his shoulders...

'Well it is warm in here,' As have already established. 'Perhaps I should join you in the same attire?'

When he speaks again, he's lost the giggling and the chuckling and is simply thick throated. 'Perhaps you should…?'

I eye the door suspiciously again then sigh and strip the shorts from my legs. It should be cold in here, but that's not why my chest looks so full. Or my legs so thick. I'm sensitive, crying out to be touched while I fumble with the waistband of my underwear. His breathing is still quite even but also quite loud and thinking of that gives me the bravery I need to strip completely.

'A-are you okay?'

'Are you?' I ask instead.

'Of course. There's-. There's a lot of fidgeting?' He questions, still curious and still warm to me.

When I inhale another breath, it flows into the receiver shakily, my fingers wind themselves along the remaining buttons of his shirt and hastily freeing them, I let the fabric slip away from my skin so that I'm completely and blissfully exposed. And not at all vulnerable about it.

'I'm butt-naked on your side of the bed.' I say with a smirk he'll just about hear. He inhales sharply. 'It's much cosier on your side than mine? Perhaps I should permanently relocate?'

'I can't advise against it.' He's nervous, I can feel it and I love the honesty that his nerves encourage. But his nerves don't outweigh his curiosity. Another enchanting factor about him. 'Are you sitting up or laying down?'

My nails rake carefully over my knees, down my thighs and back again. That minty pine smell is embedded in my hair and now I'm lying on that scent- I feel like I'm growing even warmer. It was almost like pressing him into me, feeling him against the curves of my hips.

'How do you want me?' I ask. He takes a pause to reply.

'Comfortable…' He says softly. 'I want you... to be comfortable.'

'Now who's demanding?'

'I can stop if you'd like?' He offers kindly and it's such a horribly painful tease that I wise up quickly.

'I'm trying to be obedient for once, Cullen.' This seems to jolt a bit of excitement into him. 'Give me some instruction?'

'L-lying down.' He gasps. 'I want you lying down.'

So I shuffle down, my back flat against the space where he would usually lie on his front. I'm pressing my thighs together now, to try and slow the rush of hormones. To pause the excitement.

'And now?'

He hesitates, struggling to be brave enough to say the words but now I'm down here, now I can feel him against me, the phone pressed against my warm face. 'What about you, Carlisle?'

'I'm lying down, too.' He says softly.

'Have you got the TV on?'

'I don't think I need it with you teasing in my ear. Do I?'

'No.' I say gently, biting my lip. 'How am I doing?'

'Fantastically.' He promises and it has a way of making me feel even sexier than I might have felt an hour ago.

'How are you feeling?' I pose suggestively. He hums.

'Warm.'

'Literally warm or aroused?'

He sighs, stiffly, the sound stuttering in my head so brilliantly. 'Perhaps more so, the latter?'

'Are you saying-'

But he interrupts me in the best way. 'Es, I've had one for the last seventeen minutes...?'

It's hilarious how he says it with such a tone, as though it's obvious and I'm just being a pain. The world around me seems to become even more beautiful. My knotted stomach squeezes tighter so that the heat, the never ending warmth simply grows and travels further until it's burning away at my core, aching for release. He'd never confessed to getting hard before. I didn't even now if this was a familiar concept to him.

It didn't matter. If he was hard, and admitting as such... we we're getting somewhere.

'Seventeen minutes is a long time, Carlisle.' I tell him, my palm squeezing my abdomen, begging for a little patience to enjoy the torture of him.

'Don't I know it.' Now the nervous giggle is neither his nor my fault but simply both of ours but it recovers well with a simple sigh on my end.

'So what have you been doing for all that time that I've not known about?'

'The usual.' He says breathily. I laugh again.

'Which is?'

'Waiting, of course.'

'Waiting for me?' I clarify, only slightly confused by the suggestion. He doesn't form the actual words to reply but does manage a gentle hum in the affirmative. 'All for me?' I tease, breathing harder.

Imagining him hard is enough to make my pulse beat harder. My tongue moistens under the suggestion so that it's not only my mouth which is wet for him. Shuddering, I run my hand down the inside of my thigh, brushing slightly against the fine hair. I think he hears the catch in my voice, because he sounds equally as dizzy.

'All yours.' He promises.

'Are you touching yourself?'

'Are you?' He asks, playfully and if he was to be more sharp, I'd accuse him of being stressed.

'Not exactly…' I say, honestly and I think it's fair to say I've impressed myself with this very display of patience.

'Treat yourself?'

'You want me to touch myself?' I ask him. I imagining him squirming, blushing, biting his lip but he's clearly not doing so.

'...More than anything?' He sighs, peacefully. It's such a calming sentence, so motivational and innocent. The pulsing need to be touched beats in time to my heart. The moist warmth spreads from my abdomen all around my lower half until I'm fidgeting around with my own need for friction.

'Where?'

'Hmm?'

'Where do you want me to touch myself?'

'You know where.' He whispers, darkly.

'Give me a suggestion?' I ask, biting my lip even harder and positively marking myself in his honour.

'You really want my input?'

'Yes.'

'Sure?' He teases.

'Carlisle.' I whimper. With another stunted laugh, he moves quickly to soften my cries.

'Start at your collar bone?'

I move my hand according to his instruction, letting it rest against my collar bone. With every breath I take, it moves. 'Be gentle.'

'Obviously.' I complain.

'Demanding again?' He whispers playfully.

'I'm hot-as-hell, of course I'm demanding!' Here meaning I'm hot for him rather than figuratively. 'But I'm touching my collar bone.'

'Where do you want to be touched?'

'Everywhere.' I murmur thickly and I wonder how his face might respond to the comment.

'Let your hand fall…'

'Over my tits?' I guess.

'Be soft.' He instructs. 'Barely touching, let your touch slip over… Softer than …I… would be.'

I swallow loudly. 'I kinda wish you were replacing my hands right now…'

'So do I.' He chuckles sweetly, his voice unkempt and nervous. 'More than anything…'

'I needed this...' I whine, appreciatively tensing my body as I dream about his thick hard-on, pushing into my thigh, my hand running over it. He groans a little.

'Where is your hand now?'

'Wherever you want it to be?'

'Down your stomach. Slowly.'

I deliberately whine out when my finger passes against my nipple, shuddering slightly as I imagine him taking it into his mouth, biting, teasing-. But I'm obedient, my hand sliding down into my stomach and stopping at the naval, thumb caressing the space.

'And now?' I hadn't imagined my voice to be so shaky. I don't think he did either but then his is even more vulnerable under my ear and he loses both words and volume. 'Unless you think I should take over?'

'That might be best.' He says difficultly and I can picture the difficult smile on his face.

'I'm quite soft.' I giggle. 'Silky almost?'

He murmurs uncomfortably but doesn't form any specific words.

'It feels good though to be-'

'Esme...' He murmurs, falling into a gentle chuckle. I think I want to make him say my name again. And again. And again. I want him groaning it. Making love to it with his innocent tongue.

'I'm touching my thighs.' And ignoring that big fuck off burn. 'My hands are resting along my thigh.'

To prove my honesty, I sigh a little as my hand moves down, letting a noise of frustration fall out my mouth when I tense. I can imagine his mouth moving against mine, his hands needy and they fall along my body and I jolt underneath it, desperate for release.

'And you? Are you-'

'Yeah,' he whispers, softly, intervening once more. 'Yeah, I am.'

'And?' I ask impatiently. He can probably detect my hunger. Good.

'Well even I have to confess it's much more enjoyable with a participant? But I'd give anything to be at home right now.'

'Touching me?' I encourage and though he doesn't need to be reminded, it suddenly surprises me when I remember he's never done this before. That this is his first telephone hard-on. That I'm potentially his first sexy- cell encounter. It makes my skin grow warm.

'Y-yes.' And like normal, he can't help but stumble a little. 'Just to be next to you would be-'. He stops. He stops and he sighs heavily, listening out for my suggestions instead.

My hand falls away from my thigh, fall past my hip, itching to be placed against my core, desperate for movement. I watch my breasts rise and fall in movement to my breaths. He's as loud and as heavy as I am, under my ear.

'Are you using your left hand?' And a fleeting thought reminds me to do a little bedside drawer snooping again, before he comes home.

'Mmm?' The sound falls from his mouth rather aggressively, turning into a deep groan rather than a sweet denial. 'Yeah. Yeah I'm-.' He cuts himself off again breathing in quickly and waiting for me to pose another question.

'I'm desperate, Carlisle.' And for once, rather than fight my statements, he lets himself hear them. 'I want...you.'

Since when did honesty become so hot?

'Oh Hon, so do I. More than-'

'Than anything?' I tease.

'Forgive me- I'm barely remembering English right now.' He apologises, amusedly and even though I'm miles away, I can hear him writhing away uncomfortably. His voices catches slightly, struggling to fit the air into his lungs as he lets himself be carried away. I'm so wet for him.

'If you want to lead the way in Italian I won't complain.'

'Uh-uh.' He agrees, dismissively. I could almost taste the dryness of his tongue, feel the thrust of his hip as he unconsciously rose to meet a tightened hand.

'Sounds like you're running out of breath, too, Cullen?'

'Uh, Es. Please. You've got to stop teasing.'

I'd forgotten that control was exercised and not something so neatly tucked into his toolmaker's hand kit. His voice was turning thicker now, strained, uncomfortable and the pauses between his instructions were tense. I couldn't know for sure how hot he was, how ready he was...

'Not enjoying yourself?' I question.

'The opposite.' he clarifies. 'The complete opposite.'

'You promise?'

'My Love, I will swear it, sear it and wear it. I promise.'

It said a lot about both my paranoia and my foolish imagination that with these words tucked safely in my memory, I could never give the hope to trust them. Firstly because it was an oath made in particularly stressful circumstances. But more importantly because it was Carlisle on the other end of the line. It was my flatmate. It was a dream.

And I wanted that dream to give me more. I wanted to give that dream more.

Wait was he saying something?

'Esme?'

'Huh?'

'God, that would've been an horrific time for the phone line to cut out.'

'No, sorry. I was, er... day dreaming..'

'Of?' he asks. I snicker a little.

'Well, wouldn't you like to know.'

The sound catches in his throat like punctuation. The frown could be read without my eyes open, the teeth sinking into his lips... He's lucky I'm a lot more impatient for his release than I suspect he is.

'Just teasing.' I confess, watching the dance of my hand twist back around my groin. 'Myself.' I clarify.

'Mm.'

The sound was echoing at my neck, slipping into the collar of his shirt and wisping up into the fraggled and knotted strands of my hair. Every gasp, held breath, stunted gasp and utter, I wanted to feel on my skin. I wanted the words to tumble into my skin like jaggered corners of boxes. I wanted to be inundated with the threat of his fall around me. I wanted to drown in him, to bear his arousal on my flesh, to feel him push into me before unlocking my legs before him.

'Don't?' he pleads.

Huh?

'You want me to give myself an orgasm?' I add, elongating the moment even more, my ankles entwining as I tense every nerve in my body in anticipation.

'Uh-huh.'

'Carlisle?' I sing, lovingly.

'Yes!' He groans quickly, as playful as he is frustrated. 'Oh God, yes.'

'Well I haven't exactly got a towel down-'

'Es.' He groans, desperately. 'Please... don't bother?'

'Don't be shy, Cullen. I'm impressed you've lasted this far.' I try to sound reassuring but at his tense and then hearty chuckle, the understanding becomes clear.

'No, no. I mean... I'm not far off but... don't put anything down...'

'I think you're seriously misunderstanding just how wet-'

'Esme... My Love... I beg you. Please do not move.'

Oh.

Oh.

He... he liked this. He was... Well... Carlisle Cullen was being dirty. Urgh. Carlisle Cullen wanted me, hot... in his bed... touching myself... for him. And he wanted the proof. Ugh.

'Carlisle Cullen, you kinky Bitch.'

He does laugh now, throatily and then clearly throws his head back just a tad too hard. Rather than let him get distracted however, I quickly swoop in to steal his narrative.

'Well, I guess I have no reason to hold back now.' I murmur to him playfully.

So I don't. Holding the phone to my ear with a shoulder, I let my right hand tease along my legs until inserting a finger into my slick folds. My knees jolt together but I stay loyal to my promises. I don't hold back, not for a moment and even though I probably should be incredibly embarrassed, I'm so turned on by how he's getting off on this that I let myself be louder. I let my legs slide wider, my hand slip deeper and I let the sounds slip into through a phone line into his open mouth.

It's blissful.

It was navigating through heavy fabrics of velvet to find that right ache. To entice it forth from my spine, the let the moisture glisten around my fingers.

I inhale as my hands work their way from my core all the way back to the top of my slit, dragging all that wetness with it and spreading it, carelessly at my thighs.

'Esme?' He begs, trying desperately to be funny but it's almost lost with how utterly engrossed I am with my own hand movements.

'I'm soaked, Carlisle. Urgh, I just need-' This time, it's me interrupting myself with a whine, my knees coming up to allow a wider access to wherever my touch needs to tease.

When I gasp, I feel him mimic it back to me.

'Tell me what you need?' He begs softly and he's so gentle about it, he could be here, under my weight, guiding my hand to be exactly what I need, pointing and shrouding me in that pine scent.

I need- the soft pad of my finger unexpectedly brushes against my clit and my grunt of pleasure is about as thick as his cock would be with my mouth around it.

'I need to come.' My voice declares. I need him to be the one to do it. With his talented hands. That's not exactly possible right now. Particularly with the speed I am operating at. 'I've been holding off all week, Carlisle. I need you to make me come...'

His already-unsteady breath falls quieter.

'H-how do I do that?'

'Tell me what you're doing?'

Screw demanding, I'll just about control how and in what direction he ejaculates if he finds it as sexy as I do.

The accidental touch from earlier has now developed into deliberate teasing circles with limited pressure, causing the warmth to spread all over my body and my toes to curl. I could feel the pressure consuming my stomach, my thighs, holding me fractiously still at risk of loosing rhythm.

There was a tight pulsing taken a hold of me, blinding me with desperation.

'I'm rubbing myself.' He says thickly and though he's not as loud as I am, he still makes sure to groan a little for me. 'I've got a closed fist around the shaft and I'm...moving.'

It's better than I thought. The delight of his groans warm up my movements until I'm tingling all over. I don't know what he's moving. Whether he's thrusting into his hand or if his expert hands are touching him but I want it all. All at once.

'Fast or slow?'

'Slowly for now. I'm holding off-'

'Don't bother. I'm on the edge.' I pant and he laughs, too. If it can be called a laugh. I ws tryingg to push my thighs together now to keep considerate of the bedding but with him wanting every essence of me dripping down my thighs, I couldn't deny the nessicty to obey him. He wanted me on his sheets and I wanted to please him.

'Wait- are you circumcised?'

'Hmm?'

'Circumcised, Cullen? Got a foreskin or not?'

'Oh.' And he chuckles again, giving into the edge it grants him on his pumping. 'I'm not circumcised, no?'

'That was a reluctant answer. Are you sure you're telling me the truth?' Sometimes I'm accidentally clever.

'At the very least I promise to prove it at some point when I'm home.'

'What else are you going to do when you're home?' I ask, biting my lip particularly hard as I try to prolong the unwavering joy that losing two fingers to my slit can have. There was no doubt about it now. I was pooling onto the linen. Onto flushed and tensing skin.

'Whatever you'd like me to.' He answers smoothly, still gentle in his voice though I am needy and sweaty.

'What would you like to do?' I insist. He hesitates nervously, causing me to add a soft 'Please?' which I'm sure he barely hears.

'I'd like to make you even hungry than you are now… Make you…wetter..' I can't help it, at this I groan encouragingly, my two fingers teasing more vigorous circles. He breathes sharply, pleased with the spontaneous sounds off my tongue and learning ever so quickly. 'I want you coming so hard that the only thing you can think is my name.'

Urgh, great minds think alike.

'F-uck.' I stutter as I near the high, tensing and teasing while he groans in my ear, supportively.

'Esme Platt, I wouldn't just fuck you, I'd make love to you until you're begging for a release.'

I'm begging, oh God, I'm begging now. The sensation builds, I'm rocking onto the peak, clinging onto his words as life support. Since when was he so great at this?!

'Uh, Carlisle-.' I don't even remember doing anything, all actions are automatic and as I picture him making such suggestions, inside of me.

'I would be so gentle that I'd make you come without needing to slide one nerve into you.'

Talking dirty is my new favourite thing. It builds, the sensation screaming for attention, reaching the top of that drive so that as my fingers move faster. I hit my peak by accident. One minute I'm begging for my hands to go mechanical, for the speed to sing and my swollen lips to calm and then my hands are undoing the ties and I unbuckle fiercely at the needy groans on his tongue.

My walls clench around my hand and I fall from grace so powerfully, the only things that can come out of my mouth is in a whimper.

'Carlisle, I'm coming for you.'

'So am I, my Love.'

And the moment I manage to force the words out, I hear him groan a few seconds later and we ride out our high, needy, breathlessly as if we're one body against another. As if we are one. My body trembles from the blissful violence, quivering exhaustively as I pant for breath. He does the same, laughing when he can finally find the energy but there's not a lot left.

'Ho-ly shit.' He mutters and I have a wildly peaceful image of him laying like me, an arm behind his head, panting needing.

'Language, Doctor Cullen.' I chastise playfully, loving the very sound of it. I love that this is what I reduced him to, an honest sailor. 'How was it?'

'For me?' He asks, dazily. I want to roll my eyes, but I want him to see it. I want to be showing off how exhausted I am from his build up. I want to be curled into him, comparing heartbeats to see who has the biggest kink. I want him to see exactly what kind of mess I made for him.

'Of course not, I was asking for the President of Uganda's input.' I'm not the funniest person alive and this isn't one of my best jokes so instead of laughing he settles for a pleased hum of acknowledgement. And it still makes me feel proud.

'Admittedly, I'm rather concerned over the volume of-. I hadn't expected for there to be so much… err? Let's just say I'm going to need another shower...'

'Was it awkward?' I ask, instead. It's better to start with a specific question. Maybe this'll help him keep a grasp on things.

'Not at all. And yet, I'd still say I am...inexperienced?'

'I don't think so.' I reply, honestly.

'Ah, well you would say that, Miss Platt. You're a charmer.'

'We've all got to start somewhere.'

'As far as starters go- that might be the best I'm yet to have.'

Though this is neither a joke nor intentionally funny, my flattery at the comments makes me feel more comfortable than ever to laugh with him. Even if he can't manage much conversation in return. That was good though, right?

'So you… enjoyed yourself?' I ask, hopefully unable to hide the paranoia. The chuckle he gives is enough to reinstate my pride.

'Was the groaning too subtle for you?' He adds mockingly and I almost feel like if he was by my side, he'd ease the blade of the comment with a tentative stroke of his touch to mine. 'I can't even begin to…'

'To?'

'To- urgh. Would it make sense if I simply said I miss you?' He finalises instead. He probably knows this isn't a great answer because he says it shyly, nervous for my reply.

'Not enough to initiate anything?'

'Es!' He gargles.

'What?'

'That's not even slightly true-.'

'Hush Carlisle, I was only teasing.' But I've said it now and I think we're both aware that it's not a total lie.

'Would you like me to-'

'Stop. It was just a passing comment. Don't wind yourself up into-'

'You'd like me to… make a move...Like that?'

'Not if it made you uncomfortable. Why are you being so weird about this?' I laugh, softly and it takes for that to hear him relax a little.

'But you… want me?'

'Was the phone sex too subtle?' I say, mumbling his words back him with a gentle giggle. He sounds confused and very relieved but I couldn't possibly understand where the hell it's coming from. 'Carlisle, I'm not getting off on sweet nothings. I do… want you. But I'm not going to make you uncomfortable for it.'

Is this something I should be confessing to on the phone? I don't think so. This feels really stupid. But also quite necessary.

'It's not that-.' And I'm suddenly surprised to hear that he sounds- excited? 'It's just that I'd never want to put you off. I want you to be comfortable?'

Me comfortable? But I've been trying to accommodate him? Thus: a loop. The way my smile teases my face is not unlike the accidental smiles he's given this past week. They feel as gentle as though they might soften my expression, make me seem warmer and friendlier-. I think I'd give anything I could to see it coming from him about now...

'Are you okay?'

'Never better.' He whispers, overly pleased with matters that I had up until this point always considered unbelievably obvious. 'You?'

'I'm fucking exhausted.' I say gratefully and I almost want to compliment that it's because of him I can't bear to move.

He laughs well, the sound less playful and more effortless and I try to desperately gain a breath or two back. I'm still lying on my side, phone wrenched beneath my ear and my right hand damp with our exploits- the thought makes me want to laugh but I'm so tired that I don't think I can manage it.

'Una Degna causa.'

A shiver runs over my shoulders and though I'm not used to it, I feel like I need him all over again. But in a different, less exhaustive manner. Una Degna Causa.

'Carlisle?'

'Mmm?'

'Hurry home.'