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Carlisle avoids teasing me too publicly since leaving the pitch and doesn't say much when we clamber into his car on the route to Alice's. He listens patiently to Edward, stuck in his own thoughts for a while as I wait for a spare moment together. It doesn't come so quickly. Though the time slips away every two minutes with my heavy eyelids dropping until eventually, there's a humorous chuckle in my ear.

'Why don't you go sit down?'

The voice catches me, the gentle laughter more so and I turn up to see the beautiful smirk on his face hidden behind a vale of his own tiredness. I look around Alice's empty kitchen, my hands are placed on the table, my ears listening out. He reads my confusion.

'The girls are sorting out bedding, the others have gone to pick up some dinner.'

'Oh.' I realise, groggily but he's still beaming at me. 'We're alone?'

He's flattered by the suggestion, listens out so that we can hear the excited chatter of Rose complaining and hesitantly stoops to plant a kiss to my hairline before pulling away again.

'How were the kids?' He asks, sincerely. I yawn, my posture slump as I lean further into the wooden chair of her kitchen, my back breaking.

'As good as ever- though I'm worried Johnathan is ill. He was very quiet today.'

'Teething?' He guesses. I shrug slightly and rub my eyes. 'And your submission piece?'

I groan this time, running my fingers through the front of my braid so that several loose waves fall out. 'They're going to call me. It's part of their 'marketing process'.'

'Oh?' He's frowning as he stands above me and I'm grateful he looks as wary as I feel. With a tired and irritable expression, I nod.

'Before you ask: yes, the process does affect my application.'

'How peculiar?' He complains, his beautiful expression disturbed with the intrusion of his exhaustion. 'What about for artists like Van Gogh? His genius wasn't recognised until after his death?'

'Not helping, Carlisle.'

Though I am grateful he pronounced the name the way I would: a silent end instead of a tough 'gh'. He takes another risk while we're alone and carefully brushes his fingertips along the shoulder of my jacket, alerting me awake again with a smooth touch. Whether to brush dirt off or act as a sign of comfort, I'm not sure, either way I can't help but fawn. I have to force myself not to lean into his warmth.

'What about your father?' I ask, making a severe effort to actively ask because I'm not sure he'd say otherwise. 'Did he tell you what he wants?'

'The impression I gather is that he wants help setting up. But you really don't have to attend if you'd rather not- I was only teasing.'

I push out my chair to attempt to stand but my strength diminishes with my fatigue until he poses a hand at my elbow to catch me.

'Seriously, Es. Go sit down?'

'I know I don't have to but I would like to.' I answer, ignoring the lateness of the reply and doing, for once, as he asks.

Alice's sofa is not like our one at home. It's leather, colder and seats more people. Tiredly, I take the middle seat and gesture for him to take the end space. His feet are slow to move, wary I would assume, as he sits and angles himself away from me though his expression is tilted.

'How recently did they leave?' I whisper, indicating the upstairs front door. His eyes slip to his watch.

'About five minutes ago?'

'How good is your hearing?' I probe a little more cautiously. I know the answer anyway. He responds with a tired frown.

'Impeccable, why?'

'Tell me if Alice comes?' I ask, leaning over to kiss his smooth cheek before changing my posture to settle into his lap.

'What for- Es?!'

I curl up on my side, laying the side of my face, not in his lap as he so dangerously fears, but close to his knee and let my sore eyes respond instinctively in closing. What did he think I was going to do?

'You're playing with fire, my Love.'

My mouth moves into a familiar smile as his soothing words skim over my back.

'Thank you for my dress, Carlisle…' I murmur, my breaths already becoming heavy to match the rest of my body. The pictures on the television in front have become an indistinguishable blur, only worsening my exhaustion and paving the way to dreamland.

'You've already thanked me?'

'But I didn't mean it then.' I mutter sleepily, the now thick material of his jeans comforting along my blush. I Wish he'd stuck to the shorts. More room for exposure. 'I mean it now: Thank you.'

He combs through the escaped strands of my hair, the heel of his hand resting against the back of my neck, warm though not intrusive. I didn't even notice him get changed but I can smell the foreign soap in his scent and feel the jeans rough against my cheek. Until a fingertip traces down the other one that is. Then that's the only thing I can feel.

'It's the least I could do.'

'You didn't have to do anything. I would attend the damn thing even if it meant missing out on… something- I don't know. I can't think of a good analogy.' I complain, another yawn taking over my body as I shudder into him. 'You get the point.'

'You're a lot more convincing when you're not mumbling…' He teases, sweetly but the hand stops moving and he regretfully sighs. 'Alice is coming…'

'Urgh.' I pull myself up before he can and stare absently at the TV.

'Why did you turn the sound off?' Alice asks, confused, skipping into the living room with a bundle of bedding in her small arms. 'Anyway- the boys are in here, we're in my room.'

I nod, barely involved enough to add a smile as she tends to the DVD box. I don't see what she puts on, I don't notice anything except that I can feel Carlisle's arm resting close to my forearm accidentally touching me on every exhale he gives. I only survive a few extra minutes of consciousness.

The boys and Bella come rushing in upstairs like a stampede to the front door, grabbing and emptying food onto plates into the living room for mass consumption. Carlisle and I haven't moved. We're in the perfect state of dead exhaustion, silent yet absent from all conversation. The last thing I remember is leaning into the arm against mine. I take one last look at whatever shitty horror film someone has put on, pass the opening credits and eventually submit to the desperate need for sleep.

My back hurts. I think that's something I'm allowed to complain about because it means I'm atoning for my sins. Though I don't like the rest of the conversation that seems to bubble about my ears.

'But they missed the whole plot. Both plots, in fact!'

'That's what happens when you have a full time job?' Jasper chuckles and I'm glad it's him defending us this time and not leaving it to Edward. That's getting awkward enough as it is.

'Pretty sure there's some ice in your freezer, Alice?' And the loud laughter following the comment assures me that it's Emmett's suggestion.

'Anyone tries that and I will personally drown them in the bath tub.' I mumble bitterly. Now aware to their voices, I reluctantly pull myself up to rub at my eyes, squint from the remaining light and hold my sore head.

'Sleeping Beauty awakes!' Cheers Alice. I shift closer to Edward in response suddenly aware of the drastic change of position. Carlisle has his right knee hooked on the space my body has left him. He's wedged into the corner, tightly curled from where I was laid on him. I look immediately to Edward in horror but he defeats my panic with none other than a simple sentence.

'That's what you get being a junior Doctor- you'll crash just about anywhere.'

Carlisle's still asleep, his arms folded stubbornly across his chest, his hair slipping to his face. I smile gratefully at the youngest of our trio.

'What time is it?' I ask, my voice thick.

'Eleven. We were actually heading to bed?' Alice murmurs, standing at the edge of the sofa with Bella behind her. The laptop is on the table and Edward looks relatively relaxed enough to assure me his is essay done. I nod, taking Rosalie's hand to help pull me from my little cocoon of warmth, back onto the solid ground.

'Night all.' I yawn and with that I follow the girls into Alice's room and fall immediately to the blow-up bed on the floor.

Much to my surprise it's Bella who perches on the end, her hair in a ponytail and her cheeks pink for no real reason. I adjust my posture to allow her space in case she wants to share the bed with me but she stays perched.

'How's your head?' She begins, her smile gentle.

'Fine.' I murmur, still exhausted and still ready for the joy that is the silence of sleep but then I'm worried this is rude and grimace. 'The stitches will be gone soon, I reckon.'

She doesn't say much in reply, just nods absently until bravery claims her of course.

'I was just wondering if I could…?' She nods to the side of the bed that I'm not taking up. I laugh softly.

'That is why I moved over?'

'Sure I'm not intruding?'

I don't know how good her maths skills are but considering there's two beds and four spaces, I'm wondering what her other plan is? Nevertheless, I don't grant the question a good enough answer, I just smile and wait for Alice to return so I can borrow something to wear to bed.

She hasn't got anything that'll fit so she hands me one of Jasper's shirts and apologises profusely. It feels like I'm intruding being in his clothes. That and I don't like the smell. It's too sweet but the kind that would make you feel sick after too many mouthfuls.

They make light conversation for a moment or two. Originally referring to sports or the TV before instead giggling about something Emmett said. I get the impression very quickly that Rose is either trying to make myself and my bedmate blush, or rather drag answers from our silent lips. She's mentioning something about guys being hot when their competitive and because I don't want to even attempt to feel the sweet threat of the reminder take over, I try to pretend I haven't heard.

Five minutes go by, ten and eventually twenty minutes have taken their pass when all in the room are asleep. I try to join them but it doesn't happen. An hour passes, my exhaustion becoming impatience when I hear a familiar cough followed by perhaps a complaint. I listen for a while, desperate for further proof he is awake but there's only the soft sound of breathing.

I wait even longer for exhaustion to take me, growing annoyed as time ticks. Until I give in. I go to pick up my phone from the table but as I do so, it buzzes in my hand. I turn it over to read the screen. The words pretty much confirm my assumptions- I'm not going to be sleeping now.

The floor is far more uncomfortable than you think.

I try to hold in my giggle but it unconsciously escapes and though I'm concerned about waking people up, I also like the idea that he can hear me from the room away.

I thought you were on the sofa? I type back. And asleep. I add.

I've been both awakened and vacated. Hence the uncomfortable floor.

Your bed would be far better. I type back and though I try to stop myself, I can't help but send a winking emoji to him.

I concur. Though, what's with the semicolon?

Again, I laugh. Turn your phone to the right.

Very sweet, my apologies.

If you feel like getting up to date with the rest of the world, there's plenty more cartoons beneath the face button? I respond sending another stupid semi-colon and a closed parenthesis so he grows used to the image. My phone vibrates again.

Moving past my technical inabilities, I'm partly wishing we hadn't fallen asleep so soon. I'm struggling to get back to it.

Part of me wishes I hadn't slept so brazenly against him in front of everyone else. Part of me wishes I'd never agreed to this dumb sleepover. The baseball was fun, sure, now I just want a bath. And a bed. And a gorgeous partner to share that bed with.

So am I, it's so uncomfortable sleeping with Bella. I feel like I'm going to crush her. I am most definitely going to crush her.

I can empathise with that.

I'm not that much smaller than you. I complain.

Perhaps not so much in height, though I nightly fear that you will be crushed under my weight.

Doesn't sound like such a bad thing? I tease him, hearing the gentle vibration in the other room. He doesn't reply for a moment. So I send another winking emoji. His chuckle is sweet.

As much as I would love to return to the path this conversation is heading towards, I fear it is not the best idea. I hope you sleep well. Xxxx

Four x's, huh? The same four signs of affection from his handwriting now immortalised in technology. Two modes of writing and both blessed with those pathetically sweet letters.

You too. Sweet dreams. Then I deliberately take his style and change it just to test the reaction... XXxx

Goodnight Xxxx. He types back, those last three letters standing firm as they refuse to submit to peer pressure.

Night. I reply. Snarky.

I hope you also have sweet dreams. XXxx

Aha! Success! He conceded!

If you don't stop texting me, I'm coming in there and shutting you up. XXxx

In the most devious way possible, I swear.

Doesn't sound like such a bad thing? XXxxx He playfully quotes.

Five? He's jumped the border and gone for five?! Five symbolic references to a kiss. Does that equal five kisses? Or five counts of love? Or five counts of affection? Am I looking too much into this? Five of them! And two of them bigger. I usually hate wasting space with the useless inclusion of X's. It really is just a sad and sorry act. However, now I'm desperate to see whether the additional X is a slight of hand or if it is genuine?

I think this is one of those moments when you need to imagine the tone of my voice when I say your name? XXxxx

I'm somewhat displeased. I thought you'd like my communicating Xxxxxxxxxxx.

In conjunction with a heart?! Oh my God, has he just used a heart emoji?! Oh Jesus, he's so bloody adorable! I can't- fuck sleeping in here, it's not half as good.

Is everyone asleep? I type to him, surprisingly urgent.

If you can't hear that snoring, I suggest an Otolaryngologist. I'm tempted to sleep in the car. And this time, he stays in the lines of safety and steers clear from the added letters. It makes my heart hurt.

The phone buzzes in my hand again but I turn it face down on the carpet and look at the girls. They're asleep, I know they're asleep. Yet I still wait an extra fifteen minutes to assure myself of it. Then, I quietly leave the room, take the few steps to the living room and silently cross over to the window.

Carlisle was right. The boys are asleep and loudly so. They're turned towards the kitchen; Edward and Jasper in the armchairs as Emmett takes up the sofa. Carlisle is beneath the window, the steetlight's glow shining over his face and making his hair brighter. He's got an arm up behind his head, a duvet resting along his midriff as he sleeps in a black T-shirt.

His eyes are closed so I embed myself quietly on the wooden floor. I'm facing him though he isn't facing me, my legs hidden under the blanket and my hand underneath my cheek as I stare at him. He sighs, his chest rising, his hair slipping before shifting to face me. I stay very still, concerned he's going to freak but instead, he smirks, fisting the duvet in his grip and dragging it up to my back, intentionally drawing me closer.

'I thought you were-?'

'Shh.' He says softly and I know he means because of the boys.

I stare at him for a few moments longer and let my eyes close. A warm hand is stroking along my jaw so I open them to find his dark blue eyes locked in mine as he grins.

'You said shh?'

But he silences me by leaning over. He brushes his teasing mouth over mine, his fingertips stroking my cheeks until he bows his head to kiss me. He's silent, pouring all his energy into the mouth on mine rather than murmuring. He's captivating, burning my lips with a searing kiss. Too quickly, he leans away but I grasp his shirt and hold him to me, my hand tugging into his hair as he works our mouths together. I take the initiative and battle his tongue to which he volts at. He protests delicately, eyes cast to the sleeping group.

'You'll just have to be quiet then.'

His groans are soft as he takes my mouth and leans over me, his tongue slick and hot, making my body tense underneath him. He kisses me fiercely. He's passionate and longing as our breath melts into one and his tongue flicks dire excitement into every nerve of my body. I move his hand closer to me, to the aching longing but he pulls away to bite his lip and look towards the boys.

So I take a moment to look at them, too. They're loud sleepers and either sleep on their front, like Emmett, or on their sides, their faces covered either by furniture or bedding. Carlisle should be debating. He should be discouraging this. He should be sobering my every word. Instead he reminds me to be silent, a finger resting on his mouth before turning it and encouraging me closer.

Shivers coarse along my back and I hurriedly push him, climbing over to sit in his lap, my knees at his waist. He settles himself comfortably, reaching up with an urgency to kiss me back. The flat of my hand pushes his shoulder down, my lips stealing his air and offering my own in return. He rests his grip along my spine, squirming as our clothes press against each other. I'm sitting on him. On his dick. And that's enough to kick start the hormones.

He kisses me again, quietly but focused, holding my weight and balancing his own as he steadies me. My hands started at his thick hair but the more he gives, the more I take until they're on a path of their own. They're at his shoulders, holding us together. Pressed against his back, squeezing the cotton. They're moving lower, detailing every part of him until they stop at the bottom hem of the shirt. The cotton is soft, the scent of our floral washing powder rich while I impatiently tug at cloth. He knows what I want but for the first time, I'm almost too shy to put it in place. I don't want to take the right from him. So my thumb just stops, hovering over the exposed strip of his abdomen between fabric and boxers; impatient, hurried and yet suffering from stage fright.

He looks down my nose, taking a quick touch of my mouth before crossing his arms and jerking his shirt over his head. Adorably, he ends up roughing up his hair as he puts both hand and shirt at my back. I stutter, my hands sliding over his marbled shoulders, into the ends of his hair as I press his torso to mine.

'You're beautiful, Carlisle.' I mutter against his mouth. 'You're so-'

'Shh, My Love.'

With a hand gentle at my neck, he holds my mouth to his, sensual, gentle but I can't help it. My tongue slips over his and he winces, drawing his groin away from me. The boys are still snoozing, they're captivated in their exhaustion and they're perfectly distracted but he's frowning delicately, eyes closed.

'Do you me want to stop?'

'No.' He whispers. With him perfectly under me, my hips move instinctively, deliberately grinding against him. He gasps so I throw my mouth to his to silence the excitement bubbling about our lips.

He's erect under me. Hard and thick and so well-endowed that it makes my belly fizz. The only thing separating us is the stupid necessity of fabric. I slide myself against him again, shuddering at the euphoric introductions, desperate to give him more. Resting my forehead against his as he breathes heavily, I let my left hand slip down the back of his exposed neck. He shivers around me, his mouth pressing harder into mine, my hand gripping tighter.

'Es-' He winces, resting with me so perfectly in his lap, so obviously feeling him, but he leans away, his hands falling to my hips but not touching them. I flick a quick look to them all to prove my assumptions of their unconsciousness. When I face him, he's biting his lip. So I lean to kiss him again. He's forcing an unnatural distance.

'I want to...' he starts delicately.

'So do I.' I lean into him, my chest against his. The sound of grimace fluttering against my throat and before he can stop himself, he gently marks my neck with his lips.

'Are you sure?'

The words fall into silence as I pull the t-shirt over my head, too, throwing it to his feet and watching the way my chest rises to every needy breath I take. It felt weird wearing it anyway and not at all as sexy knowing it was offered rather than stolen. And not from the gentleman in question.

Carlisle has thrown his head away from looking at me but the swell from underneath my legs shifts. While his head is tilted, I take the opportunity to kiss along his jaw, slow, sweet movements that are bitterly brief. He swallows, the Adam's apple lowering to accommodate my touch. His clasped hands tighten at the base of my spine, wrenching me closer - so I move against him, gently hushing any sounds and roaming my hands either across his pale indented torso, or into the loose waves of his light hair. As hot as I know he is, the dark of the room means it makes far more sense to stare where the last of the light is directed, which is at his face.

'I can stop?' I offer carefully, pausing by his ear, still hunched towards him. He whines delicately again, gently pulling away to eradicate any insincerity when he looks at me full on. Urgh, does he have any idea how sexy that is?

'No.' He decides with a mischievous smile.

I smile back, pulling his chin towards me so I can bury my mouth in his. While he's half distracted I encourage his hand towards me. I settle it on my shoulder, match his feather light tongue with mine and lower my stance. He doesn't understand. So I curl his hand underneath the bra strap and let it slide off but he catches it and returns it. I look at him, mildly concerned. His eyes are closed, his dark lips parted.

'Not tonight?' He pleads, gently laughing.

'You don't want to?' I whisper, panting for him.

'I'd never forgive myself if we woke them up…' He hushes and I think it's obvious, that I don't understand. 'Though admittedly, my hypocrisy is evident from you wearing that God-awful thing.'

I watch his disapproval to the shirt at his feet and feel my smile grow.

'So you are jealous.' I tease.

He guiltily nods his head, his cheeks flushed. I can't tell if that is from nerves or excitement. He's hot underneath my touch, sweating almost, so I squeeze the hand beneath my own, shuddering when he fingers the straps. My hips move instinctively, our lower material grinding upon each other so that he inhales sharply.

'Es, please, I'm gunna-' He tries to settle down again but I soon realise he's trembling against me, his perfectly marbled skin delicate under my own suggestions.

'I'm sorry.' I whisper, watching the sternness of his face disrupt his beauty. I gently press a pout to the middle of the crease on his forehead, over his fallen fringe then another to his nose. 'I'm sorry, I'll stop.'

'What can I do?' He asks softly, still holding me to him and ignoring how unbelievably desperate he's making me.

'Hmm?'

'I don't want this to be a waste- show me how to make you feel good?' He begs, kissing along my jaw illegally. His hands stay pinned, one underneath mine on my shoulder and the other resting by my hip.

'Why would this be a waste?' I ask, confused but one of the boys' louder snores makes us both jump and when he believes to safe to do so, he chuckles.

'Hon... I'm not going to last three seconds with you sitting on me?' Those gorgeous eyes flicker to other side of the room briefly and pleased, they joyfully read over my expression. I don't think I've seen a mouth so kissable.

'So?' I interrupt him. 'Making you feel good, that's what I want. That's how to make me feel good.'

His lips are wet on mine, thoughtful yet lost in their drive for more. His sweet mint scent bites along my flesh, my tongue salivating against his as he yields more, gives more-.

'The bra stay on.' He warns huskily, humming as his hand glides devilishly down my side and up again. I shiver into him, loving the excitement it gives when I brush against him. He jolts, breathing in sharply. 'For the sake of my dignity at least?'

'You drive a hard bargain.' I commend, grinning but he reaches up, his hands centred on the roots of my hair as I hover over him, flyaway pieces wisping along his face.

He smiles, mouth moving along my cheek before capturing my lips. Expertly, his tongue sends more of my nerves into overdrive and carefully, with the dedication of a Saint, he very cautiously rolls his hips. I gasp, breathing his chuckle and dragging him closer.

'Shhh.'

'Do you really want this?' I pant. 'Or are you just shutting me up?'

'Esme.' He complains, frowning. 'It's obligatory for me to resist a little. On occasion of-' He looks to the cluster of men and shakes his head awkwardly. It's a good reminder to be quiet, one we keep forgetting. Though I know for a fact you could set their beds alight and they wouldn't notice. It's been done.

'Am I making you uncomfortable?' I ask quietly but he responds with another grin.

'Yes.' He says, face serious but gorgeous in the light. 'Very much so…' And to illustrate his point he moves against me. Further sounds fall out of my mouth but he contently kisses my lips.

'I'm not-' He stops, frowns again and lowers his lips to my ear. 'I won't make love to you… Not tonight.'

If he wasn't denying me, I would be sure that this would have me melting on the spot for him. I'm two seconds away from doing it anyway.

'How about-?'

'I'm not going to fuck you either. Or any of the above…'

I pout at him, playful though his gentle smile is enough to give in to his restrictions. Even while sweating, with his blonde locks curving around his forehead, his mint breath biting into my lip, his pale complexion and blushing cheeks- he is the single most beautiful person I have ever seen.

'However-' He whispers, grinning playfully, brushing the line of his nose against te bridge of mine. 'Anything you would like me to do- within reason- and I'm yours?'

'Really?'

'But you have to be quiet…' he laughs, invading my tongue with his so that I'm whimpering almost. 'Quieter than that, My Love.'

And in a moment of frustration, I nudge his shoulder so that he falls to his back, laying comfortably with a smart grin on his mouth. His touch is teasingly soft and his muscles so- urgh. I run a palm along his hard stomach, brushing it up and squeezing at his flesh before dragging it down the very middle of his chest.

'Believe me Doctor Cullen, if anyone is needing to be quiet…' My hand trickles lower so that he squirms uncomfortably but doesn't shift away. It stops at his naval, circling to the fine line of hair leading to his boxers, close to a faded hidden scar at his waistline. 'It's you.'

With his eyes on mine, I gently cup him through the underwear. He groans throatily so that I'm forced to snog him unless he wants to get caught. He's so thick under my hand, I briefly wonder if it'll take two of my hands to take a full hold of him. The thought makes me shiver.

He submits to my lead without submission, he surrenders without surrendering and he concedes without conceding. He encourages my tongue to take dominance and from under, soaks in everything I give him. He holds himself to me, drawing me even closer, moaning lightly when I flex my hold on him and tenderly squeeze his balls. His mouth moves to replicate the perfect 'O', vocalising his need.

'Shh, My Love.' And tasting those words finally explains why he says it. Calling him my love. It's like sending him further into a circle of desire as he begs for my attention. It's like making him mine.

'Esme.' He pleads. 'I can't- I'm going to-. Ugh.' He drops his head back to the floor, chest rising fiercely, his hips desperate to grasp rhythm.

'Shh.' I remind him, soothingly. I grip my hand tighter on his shorts, palming him and sending him into chaos as he sears his lips with my name. He tries to pull me closer, his hands slick, his body writhing under my touch. I know what he wants, I can feel it, read it on his mouth, taste it when I kiss him.

'You're so hot.'

'Huh?' He pants.

'Seeing you like this.' I grasp him harder, kissing the base of throat when he breathes harder. 'You. Turn. Me. On.'

'As you were saying with sweet nothings, my love...' he manages to tell me through unsettled pleasures of air. 'I'm much the same?'

He winces even harder when I tighten my hand, trying to stay quiet while communicating such gratitude simultaneously. I lay a gentle kiss above his collar bone, travelling to his ear and encouraging his body reactions to my grip. 'You don't have to-'

'You want proof?' I ask, seductively.

He bites his lip, trying to shake his head but he can't bring himself to it. So he just pours his effort into kissing me again. It's overwhelming how much I want him and yet, how much I want him to feel good- great, even. I stop the teasing abruptly, kissing him hard to ensure all is fine.

'Give me your hand.'

He gently frowns but looks momentarily relieved for the break in torture as he evens out his lungs. He's playfully slow as he reaches his left hand out, offering it as though he's asking to hold mine.

'And you really want me to feel good?' I whisper. He nods fervently, his fringe slipping again.

'More than-'

I outline his mouth with my own, leaning my torso over to him and dragging his hand over the cup of the bra to skirt along the top of my breast. His response is to explore my mouth, angling his face to let his tongue slide against mine and make me crave more. A distraction technique I presume given the taste of his trembling tongue, slipping to meet mine like a crash of cymbals in my gut. I tighten his hand on my skin, murmur encouragingly when he sharply inhales and pull myself up from him.

'Are you oka-?'

To shush him, I pull his thumb to my mouth, kiss the padding softly. I kiss the detail of his hands and let his fingers press gently into my lips. He's staring at me, blue eyes so dark that I feel another thrill of excitement ease into my body as he watches. I return to his thumb. Kissing it along the length, parting my lips and he acts instinctively. He's careful, his fingers, now under my chin, lifting my face as he caresses the inside of my lip. I lick the curve, grinning as feels along the edges of my teeth and then I take him into my mouth.

His sigh rushes out, my tongue now soaking his digit in the mix of our saliva, coating it and sucking on him. I don't think he knows what to do, except be aroused, so he just stares with wide eyes, occasionally rubbing a hand along the back of my knee, gazing intently.

When I unleash him, his face is so contorted that I can't tell if he's trying not to blow his load or if he's unsure about what he's witnessed. His thumb is glistening with moisture so I gently lower it to the edge of the material, the same breast he kneaded. His eyes are hooded as I raise an eyebrow. He raises his lips to collide with mine and doing so, I drag his hand so that the heel of it pulls down the bra cup. Moving delicately, I press his wet pad against my erect nipple.

I can't tell who gasps first. Both perhaps, as the sensation ripples through to my core. His tongue moves deeper, involuntarily lifting his hips and with such a torturous hand he rubs moisture into my aching breast, gentle in his touch but so profusely intoxicating.

'You're beautiful.' He utters, shuddering a little as I encourage his hand to work against my chest. The unashamed pleasure waves through as he brushes against a particular sweet spot and I push myself to him.

'Shh.' I beg him, and in a fluid movement I secure my leg tighter over his, adjusting my hips. He bites his lip again but doesn't stop the roll of his thumb, teasing and encouraging my performance of arousal despite the company. Though our company seem very unaware.

'Don't stop?' I plead, tenderly returning the shape of his lips but leaning away slightly.

'Why would I stop?' He questions, settling his free hand behind my hip and holding us steady. I keep one hand behind his head, fiddling with the damp hair, tightening a grip and while he continues to tantalize my breast, pull at the nipple and grope at the skin, I gently rub along his dick through his boxers. He bites his lip, still as fiercely aroused as he was a moment ago, trembling almost.

I kiss him, lingering longer than necessary to bear weight on where he craves movement. I line his lip with my tongue, push my nipple into his hold and urgently pull on his waistband so that his cock is exposed.

Sweet Lord.

'Fuck me.'

It's literally the only words I have because even in the dark, he's fucking glorious. A little daunting perhaps in size but still a compliment to all body of man. Everything about him is a sculpture. Except this. You couldn't sculpt it, no rendition would look as perfect nor be depicted as well. And for a shape which frankly, shouldn't look attractive, I start to drool a little more. All over.

'A-are you okay?' He asks nervous under my gaze.

'Of course you'd have a cock like that. Anything else and I think I'd doubt your higher status and class you as human.'

He crumbles a little, smiling awkwardly so I lean against him, letting him press against my stomach as I secure his lower lip between mine.

'At least I wasn't lying?' He whispers and I deliberately look down to confirm him. He's right. Cullen has .

'You're incredible.' I murmur.

'I've seen better.' He says, shrugging and it takes for him to knead my skin to realise he's complimenting me.

'If you want me to stop, tell me.' I remind him, staying serious for just a second. I don't just want him hard, anymore. I want him coming. Because of me. He nods, looking briefly alarmed though he relaxes at my wicked smile. 'Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.'

For just a moment, the whimper within him, the growl,the emulating hunger is like a scream at my neck

I take a firm hold of him beneath me, squeezing slightly at the base to assert my torment. Throwing his head back violently, he shudders beneath, almost thrusting up out of my grip, rushes of air catching in his throat as he desperately tries to slow himself down.

Eyelids are sewn shut. Panting, gasping, pleading, his words bite into my skin, slapping across my attention at risk I dare ignore how desperately he laid himself at my disposal. Carefully, delicately, with a tight, nervous grasp, I move my hand: Dragging his foreskin down so he's fully exposed before pulling it up again. His left hand tightens, gripping my own signs of arousal as I repeat my action on his, faster this time, my hand enclosed just a bit tighter. He stutters, though I keep moving, lengthening him in front of me, my own warmth spreading as he battles to stay silent.

'Are you okay?' I ask, quieter than before.

I think he tries to nod but not trusting himself, sinks his perfect teeth into his lip with a harder bite. The words break out from under him.

'Keep going.' He begs, his chin rising as I grasp onto his thickness, squeezing, teasing and pleasing all in that order. His hips come up to increase my rhythm but I secure his seat and close my grip, antagonising him so that he's all but sobbing.

Kissing his sweet moans from his lips does little to settle him.

''Stop' was that?' I whisper, slowing. He tenses, lifting himself to me, begging, caressing his hands into my skin, holding me onto him.

He's shaking so violently that I single slip of my tongue or even a few choice descriptions would be all that was needed to bring him peace.

I had been right. wrapping my hand around him was difficult though not impossible. The impossible part came from the tension at my own groin.

'Please.' He utters.

'Please continue?' I whisper, the shining bead of his pre-delights thick long the base of my grip. I couldn't wait to have the hot liquid seeping out from him in floods. I couldn't wait to soak him in his filth and leave him in it.

I couldn't wait till I was alone with this image, till we were alone and I'd use the suggestion to lubricate the entry.

'Just kiss me.' He corrects, eyes still tightly closed.

So I do, I press my skin against his flushed body and work open his mouth with my tongue. He whines against our movements but stays gentle. As a reward, I speed up. I fist his cock a little harder, moving it between our skin, shifting my weight against him. His lips clasp mine desperately, holding onto the closure of my grip as my fingers feel every ridge of him. His breaths heat my tongue, his hips rolling just slightly so that I feel his whole length.

Hands on my breast knead harder and letting a whine slip to his hair, I feel my insides start to coil in hunger.

He pours his effort into worshiping me, commending my hands and making love to my name and my tongue with his tasteful lips. As asked, he doesn't stop. He soaks me in, burning me with his natural scent, his thumb and forefinger rolling my nipple, deliciously clamped between his touch. I keep my hand moving, jerking him to a high point. His body tenses underneath me, trembling when the curve of my grip catches over the head. He gasps, throatily, unaware and as the sound cuts the atmosphere, both of us freeze.

Emmett has started to cough.

Lightly at first though it grows more dramatic as we stay immobilised against each other. He's tenses beneath me, his dick throbbing in my palm as his chest expands rapidly, heavy against my own. Emmett's still coughing, verging on consciousness and with a guilty expression, I smile weakly at my Saint. He had his eyes closed but now he's looking at me, the blue heavy in need but his heart eliciting the same concern as mine.

While still hard, I let go of him, press onto him with my stomach so that his eyes roll back unthinkingly and delicately kiss his lips. He wants to whine, it's his first instinct, the groan getting stuck in his throat as he frowns.

Emmett is really coughing now, leaning up off his front, holding his head. Blue orbs, alarmed, hold my stance and regretfully, he drops his hand from my breast, encouraging me up with gentle urges. I grab his T-shirt with one hand, standing up quickly and slinking it on. My legs struggle to bear my weight, wobbling but somehow silent on the floorboards. The duvet he's bunched up around himself, attention drawn to the third person as I delicately slip back into Alice's room just in enough time.

'It's stifling in here, Man. Can you open a window or something?'

I'm hidden behind the wooden door, my hand against my pounding heart as I listen out. Carlisle is struggling to talk and from what I gather, prefers to reply in gentle affirmations rather than actual words. He's breathy, light in speech but Emmett is none the wiser, still coughing and struggling to recover from it.

'I'm sorry for waking you, it's just insane in here.'

'Mm hmm.' Carlisle responds gently and I'm jealous that I can't see his expression from the gap between the door and wall. I'm also pissed that I can't get to grip his hair, move against him, make him feel good.

'No wonder you took your shirt off. It's like a freakin' sauna!'

'Night, Em…'

Hilariously, Emmett doesn't stop there, he continues for another ten minutes, wrenching the window open, complaining and such. From what I eventually gather, either they slip into sleep, or he simply pretends to do so for the ease of recovering composure.

Getting sleep that night is far more difficult the second time round. Even with the girl's presence disturbing every moment of sleep, I'm still stuck on the residue of his touch on my flesh. The burning in the sensitive areas, his heartbeat thudding into mine, him in my grasp, my name on his tongue. It makes me feel guilty. I didn't want to tease him, I genuinely wanted to send him over the edge. I wanted to bring him to peace.

Typical how things work out.

'Don't tell me you're actually awake before me?'

I watch those pink lips whisper, his voice thick with sleep and his eyes still closed. I stretch a little, reaching a hand up to stretch out and grin. He closes the kitchen door quietly behind him, smartly dressed in his suit with his badge hanging out of his breast pocket. He looks tired, sounds tired though it's hidden under his sweet features. I don't reply yet, just continue circling my coffee cup with a finger before shrugging shyly, still dressed in just his T-shirt.

'When do you start?' I ask softly despite knowing the answer.

It's the only reason I'm up this early, because I have to see him off. I have to see what he's thinking after yesterday. I've turned my torso towards him to take his smile in. It's curved, an awkward line reaching from one side of his face to the other, his nose long, his eyelashes brushing against his skin.

'Eight thirty.' He murmurs, gaze flicking up behind me to look at the clock.

The light from the open window glares into him, briefly making his dark blue eyes into that of a sky blue. He blinks a few more times, the light changing to normal. I can't quite understand the movement between us. It's the first night since being in each other's presence that we'd slept alone and I'm regretting the loss.

I'm also regretting trying something on in front of company. That was probably a bit of a foolish decision. Incredibly risky, too. But oh so hot.

'And finish?' I ask. He reaches into his back pocket to pick up his phone, looking sleepily at the numbers before turning it off.

'Five thirty.' He's coming up close to me now, stepping forward carefully as if he's frightened I might scarper. For no real reason, the nearer he gets, the heavier my heart beats until finally, he has his lips to my forehead, placing a delicate and sweet kiss to the skin. 'Are you staying?'

It's a fight to stop my hands from pulling him towards me, from recreating last night but with a happy ending. I wonder if he's thinking the same. He breathes in again before pulling himself up and shaking out his hair. It was messy anyway, but with his fingers through it, he's managed to disturb the locks further.

'Are you going to make me a better offer?' I retort, grinning. He thinks for a minute, unsure, surprised by my words before reaching his phone and tilting his head to look at the screen again.

'How fast can you get ready?' He asks, his eyebrows raised hopefully. I grin, push him away a little and jump up, throwing myself into the act of getting ready before even understanding why I'm doing it.

He parks up a little far off town, close to the hospital but not actually within the grounds. We walk slowly to the café, like we always do when we walk but because it's a nice morning, if not a little breezy, we decide to sit outside. He orders quickly, two warm coffees, his sweeter than mine, a blueberry muffin and a little cup of instant porridge for himself.

He passes the warm cup over, settling into the plastic chair, his eyes on the cobblestones highstreets and the aged shops, smiling gently.

'You look like an artist this morning.' He says and I smile a little more because he's not even looking my way.

I'm wearing my same sneakers, a pair of skinny jeans, a white T-shirt and my leather jacket with a purple scarf hanging fashionably around my neck. My hair is a little different this morning. The natural waves are soft and I've pulled them into a high ponytail out of my eyes but there's a stubborn piece of my fringe which keeps getting in the way.

'I was channelling rock chic?' I mock, taking a sip of the coffee and wiping Alice's lip gloss off the lid. He's suddenly looking at me, smiling like he always does but with his head gently tilted. 'What?'

But he plays dumb and shakes his head, gently.

'What?' I insist but that makes him smile more, reaching his hand across to the table to grab his breakfast and stir its stubborn contents.

'You're wearing make-up today?'

I pick up the muffin, smelling it first before breaking it in half and picking at one side.

'Is that bad?' I ask. He shakes his head.

'Is there a particular reason?'

'No.' I say but the word comes out in a higher tone than I'd meant. His smile grows.

'You're just as beautiful without it.' He promises and I deliberately roll my eyes at him.

'Look at that: Seven in the morning and you've already started with the compliments.'

'Is that bad?' He asks.

'Just different.' I say. 'Just very different.'

He takes a sip of his coffee before leaning in his chair, an arm over the back, smiling. I've already come to learn this look so without pause I roll my eyes.

'Go on then, what is it?'

'Is it that obvious?' He asks

I nod again, picking up the pieces of cake and carefully dropping them onto my tongue. Blueberry muffins have been my favourite for as long as I can remember, not just because they taste sweet without being heavy, but because they always smell amazing. I'd wear it as perfume if I could. He's smirking my way.

'About last night…'

'I should've predicted this is where we were going, shouldn't I?' I ask, chewing quietly on a bit of food. Even without looking I can feel his smile light my cheeks like the sun would do.

'Thank you…'

This catches me off guard and I find that when I look at him, my eyebrows are fused together. 'But we didn't-'

He half shrugs again, staring at his coffee before turning that same squint to the shop opposite us.

'For whatever happened, it was unexpected but…' He doesn't finish his sentence. Or rather he does but with shy laughter.

It seems especially as of recent that snogging him is the only way to come to explanations quickly. So that's happens. He leans towards me, asking delicately with his eyebrow raised and I kiss him, soft lips moving like silk against mine, his hand in my hair securing me into his embrace. I barely have thoughts to slip into hid arms, to slip him the tongue, to urge him to touch me again.

Though I obviously think on it when he moves away.

'We should've been at home.' I murmur, guiltily, secretly concerned that this is the reason for my lost voice. I fiddle a little more with the lid of the coffee before letting the steam burn my tongue. 'It was pretty unfair to drag you down in front of-'

'Not at all. It added to the danger factor.' He grins again, perfectly charming as if the night had been better than expected and he was actually pleased by the lost outcome. I want to kiss him again but I want him to know it more than I actually want to set it in place. 'You're so mischievous…'

'That's a good thing, right?'

'The best.' He agrees. He takes a careful bite of his breakfast, cringing at the taste but doing as he always does and powering through several more heaped spoonfuls. 'Though you certainly know how send someone into overdrive.'

'Oh yeah?' I challenge, still trying to keep my voice low despite the empty space surrounding us.

He snorts with laughter, picking up his cup and looking at it from all sides before sipping it thoughtfully. He's trying to say something, I can see it in the way his words hesitate out his mouth and he catches them before he can go too far.

'Up until last night I couldn't see how you'd exceed yourself. Not after handcuffing me to a bed and giving me, what I had foolishly believed, was the most outrageous hard-on I thought I'd ever have.' He reminds me, confidently sucking his spoon in a way that is torturous. I bite my lip.

'I'm really sorry?' Kind of-not really. My hand is caught on the cup's side in hopes it'll warm up my hands. There's no in-between, it either burns through every layer of my skin or it does the complete opposite and leaves it cold.

'Or dropping your towel in the middle of my room?' He sees me grin and returns it. 'Then yesterday, rather obviously.'

We both hum, laughing gently before my curiosity wreaks havoc. I'm still nibbling at my breakfast, trying hard to seem like Little Miss Coy and wondering how successful I am. 'So… how many times have I given you a hard-on?'

'Too many to count.' He responds quickly, as if he had this answer prepared. A playful grin warms his face, covering the lack of sleep once more.

'And the first time?' I press, leaning heavily on the table with my hands stretched towards him. His smile crumbles a little and he reaches his hand across likewise to line it against my older grazes. The smell of coffee in conjunction with his aftershave is playing with my nose, making me crave it from a closer distance. I stroke a finger along one of his.

'The first time?' He repeats, moaning in a manner which reinforced the memory of last night. 'Jesus, My Dear. Years ago.'

'It was?' I encourage. Under the table my leg seeks his, my ankle wrapping tighter around his but more for comfort than desire.

'Probably first year?' He guesses. I'm amazed. First year?! Really?! I'm far better than I think I am. 'I think I'd been day dreaming and to get my attention you grabbed my leg. All I remember was making a speedy exit.'

He doesn't sound as shy as he looks but I doubt this has much to do with me or even the subject matter but rather the area we're feeling comfortable enough to voice such things. My eyes briefly scan the café window though so far we're the only customers. I pull my attention back to the model in front.

'I touched your leg? But I do that all the time?'

He grins. 'I know. But especially that day. I guess it was the most intimate place that I'd been… well, yeah.'

'You're so sweet.' And he really is, it's making me want to tongue him again.

'Moving day was horrendous…'

'Moving day?' I ask.

'Mm hmm. You were wearing a button up shirt and shorts. It was really hot outside… and you insisted on putting up the highest shelves.'

'No way?' I hiss. 'I was so pissed off at you! I thought you were leaving me to do all the decorating jobs.'

He laughs comfortably, taking another sip of his coffee before pushing it aside to face me, blue eyes drowning me in the desperation to wrench him closer and finish the task in mind. But doing so now would be even more inappropriate than last night.

'I couldn't stand to be around you for longer than ten minutes. You were driving me insane. You were so assertive, too.' He's clearly pleased, guessing by his tone but all I remember is being so mad for the abandonment, I genuinely thought I was going to drive a nail through his skull.

'I had every right to be. I was convinced you were being an ass!'

He laughs, holding me closer with just his warm fingertips along my mine. 'I was itching to go to work just for some head space and I come home to find you on the highest ladder clenching a hammer between your thighs. I nearly killed over.'

'Cullen, you pervert.' I tease, lovingly.

'I think I prayed for a solid two hours following. I was a mess…'

'I didn't realise I had such an effect on you.' I say, unable to hide my pride.

'Not until two weeks ago, no. Thanks to your drunken escapades.' Again, he's being absolutely serious, the mint and pine of his cologne wafting gently under my nose and pulling me to him.

'Did you ever…?'

He frowns. I sigh.

'Did you ever…use such inspirations…?' I ask carefully, nervous for no real reason.

'Are you being crude?' He guesses with a smirk. I nod, hiding behind my fringe. 'You're asking if I've ever…' and he interrupts himself to glance around him. Luckily, it's just us within earshot of each other. We're perfectly alone. '…over you?'

'I guess I kinda tried yesterday?' I say, smiling. He grins, laughing softly as he shakes his head.

'Never intentionally... But there have been a few occasions when it's been… necessary for the sake of ease…'

'Meaning?' I whisper encouragingly.

'Meaning that I don't want to work with the public while obsessing over my flatmate's anatomy. Let alone her cheek. However, it's been easier to 'switch-off' as I've gotten older.'

'Like two weeks ago?' I offer. He nods his head.

'I was terrified. I was convinced I wouldn't be able to detach myself but it was surprisingly easy. Work mode is work mode, I guess. To be honest, I can't really remember it.'

'You can't?' I ask, swallowing the cake down quickly. He shakes his head to correct himself, his blonde locks shifting.

'I mean, I can. Of course I can. I just mean not in so much detail. It's very dissociative.'

'Oh.'

'I haven't offended you have I?'

'No.' I answer quietly. 'No, it's honourable, really. '

'But?' He questions.

'I don't know, I guess it was a bit of a turn-on thinking you'd been desiring me…'

'But I do desire you.' He corrects and I'm relieved he acted so quickly to respond. There'd barely been a pause between us. 'I had to be appropriate. The only reason I helped was professionally. I knew you'd be fine but I couldn't stand you being in pain knowing I could fix it. So I had to 'section' myself.' It's a deliberate joke and to prove it, he smirks.

'That makes sense.' I reply somberly but this only furthers his amusement.

'You've got such a kink for forbidden desires!' He murmurs, laughing.

'I do not!' I argue but he only has to raise an eyebrow for me to concede. 'Okay maybe slightly, but I didn't exactly get to complete last night's?'

'I guess not…' He replies softly, his hand massaging warmth into my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

'So if you'd grown acquainted to the act of jerking off since I've known you, but not while in Italy- where on earth did you pick it up?' Again, no pun intended. But I'm desperate to know.

'You're so curious.' He commends leaning over to kiss my hairline. 'I was seventeen.'

'Go on?' I plead, gripping onto him. He snickers.

'I'd been in Chicago under a year and for my birthday, I was gifted Mr Masen's old 1980 Mercedes.' He pauses to watch me take a sip of the coffee. 'I've got a bit of a love affair for those cars.' He confesses.

'I might just get jealous.' I warn him but he smirks wider and continues.

'The choice was to either do it up or sell it to put it towards a car of my choice. I naturally chose the first option though it worked out more expensive and we considered it a project. They both helped. Mr Masen and-' he directs his nod backwards as if to insinuate Alice's home. 'Edward. They did what I instructed and nothing more so it really helped to get a grasp on the basics of my own vehicle.' He pauses again. 'I'm not boring you am I?'

'Of course not.' It's pathetic, I could be enraptured by him reading me instructions for the toaster. His voice is so soothing and soft, barely above a murmur yet perfectly clear.

'So I was stuck on one particular piece, worked on it for months and couldn't fix it until eventually I asked for a mechanic's help. He dropped off several magazines selling the part I needed and thanks to advertising, and then success when putting the think together... I was hot and bothered before I could stop myself.'

I'm assuming he's referring to a scantly dressed model and not, as is suggested, an actual piece of machinery.

'So you just went for it?' I ask but he understands my meaning and grins.

'I couldn't stop thinking about it, even though I'd hurriedly thrown the media aside. It was while showering that I couldn't quite control myself...'

I'm grinning, slowly swallowing down the bitter coffee in hopes it'll prevent him from asking. It only half does.

'How about you?'

'Are you really asking me that?' I tease, leaning towards him again. He doesn't understand so raises an eyebrow to highlight his typical confusion.

'Urm?'

'You haven't even noticed the time, have you?'

Thankfully, I've been keeping an eye on it since we sat down and though I hate myself for mentioning it, I really don't want him to be late because of me. He shakes his head slowly, closing an eye, his fringe threatening to slip.

'Am I late?'

'You will be if we don't make a move.'

He checks his watch and makes a face but I simply laugh and tuck in my chair. He discards his breakfast though he's hardly touched it and completely fails to notice me wrap the second half of my muffin into his backpack. He's grabbing his coffee, walking slowly with me towards the hospital though it's only down the end of the street.

'Does that mean you're not going to tell me?' He murmurs softly and I grin once again before tucking my hair out of my view.

'Mysteries are sexy?'

'You're sexy.' And despite the compliment, it comes out in half a grumble as if he's cursing the very nature of such things. I think he spots my grin because he dramatically rolls his eyes before capturing my swinging hand and interlocking it with his. 'And beautiful…'

'Stop.' I whine, feeling my cheeks already starting to brighten.

'And funny?' He adds, trying to catch my grin. 'And smart, mischievous, playful, daring…'

I gently lean into his side, enough to pause him momentarily. 'Stop.' I insist, only laughing because he's making me laugh.

'And Sweet.' He finished and because he's so unbelievably adorable I let myself be flattered by that one. 'Look at that- eight in the morning and I've managed to double my efforts.'

'You have work.'

He smiles a little wider, when we near the front entrance of the hospital. He's hesitating slightly but he knows he has to get going.

'Esme?'

'We can't keep having this every time you have work. Go, Carlisle. I'll see you tonight.' I say, finding a good excuse to push lightly on the buttons of his shirt.

His slight smile evolves into a grin. He looks around behind him at the few patients passing before turning back to me, holding me full on with those wickedly beautiful eyes, his lips a pale smirk as he tilts my chin up so that the fringe slips back. He inhales reluctantly before reaching a hand at my back and leaning into me. He pulls me against him, his head bent with his sweet lips on mine and despite the inappropriateness and the many other factors which to stop him, he leans into me, grasping my skin under his, the sweet coffee stinging at my tongue as he alerts every nerve in my mouth to attention. He parts his mouth, taking me in and lining my lip and tongue confidently before stepping back far too quickly and grinning.

'I'll see you later?'

I nod, breathless before casting an alarmed look around us. I don't know if anyone saw him, I don't know if anyone cares but it still makes me feel a little self-conscious with my heart hammering away this unsteadily.

He grins again, his hand slipping from my back as he steps away, tilting his gaze in a soft sort of goodbye.