Again thank you all so much for your patience and persistence. Small but significant steps. Thank you all so much. Please leave your comments!

Enjoy!

'Company?' I say, warily. My nose is pressed close to his and though his blush is the sweetest thing to grace my sight, the words are enough to give me a bit of concern. I lean back on his hands, arms locked safely round his neck to judge what sort of company.

Smiling is good. Blushing is troublesome.

'Hon, you're drenched?' He laughs, the sound gentle like a warm coat.

'It's raining.'

'That's a good thing?' He guesses, seeing the relaxed curve of my mouth and accommodating it.

'It's a great thing.'

'Well… I think I'm about to spoil your good moo-'

'Uh, yeah, Carlisle. Harder Faster. More.'

He glares to the ceiling and gently lowers me safely to the floor. My eyes have narrowed, I'm glaring with so much energy that I don't even hear Carlisle try to save his friend's life. Instead I feel the acid start to irritate my flesh. I can't physically see who dared to open their foolish mouth but I know where they all are. Centred on the top of the stairs, giggling and calling down. Their shoes are giving them away. My friends are ten year olds.

'Hon?' He whispers.

'What?!'

He chuckles though he shouldn't. 'I said; please don't be too angry. He's very drunk.'

'Drunk?!' I repeat. They were fine earlier! 'How can they be drunk at…'

Turning his wrist, I find it unusually naked. He's not wearing his usual watch. The TV is off and the clock on the wall hasn't worked since Emmett through a baseball at it.

'Eleven?' He offers.

'Don't stop! Uh, yes. More.'

'Eleven in the morning?!'

Asshole!

'I think Jasper got hammered the night before. He hasn't sobered yet.' He draws a thumb over the crease of my eyebrows. 'I'm-'

'Don't you dare say it. If you apologise I'm going to scream.'

He nods and rubs the back of his thick hair, stepping away to find me a towel and dabbing it across my face.

'If you juvenile little fuckwits don't get your asses down here in the next second, I'm going to pulverise you all!'

'Es…' He begins, gently.

'Now!' I yell. It's enough to place him back in the role of amused observer.

Reluctantly, with their heads bowed to their grubby, worn socks and still sniggering, the three boys descend the steps. Carlisle is right though I wish he'd just kept silent about the whole ordeal. To leave me to discover the obvious. Jasper's southern drawl of his native tongue is heavy in his laughter. It's slurred too. His red eyes aren't quite able to focus on the two figures (ahem; us) in front of his heavy fringe and a vacant, lost smile is stuck on the side of his face as if he stapled it in the night.

Must have been one hell of a shitty celebration if Jasper is looking this bad.

'Now whose the smart-ass who thinks they're hilariously fucking fu-'

'We're Sorry.'

'Too late!' I reply, jabbing a pointed finger their way. 'Who said it?!'

No reply as they all look to each other and finally Carlisle. He, being the clever well-to-do surgeon in the making, looks away because he realises the danger in acknowledging their regret is far greater than the danger of simply eyeing his shoes. I bet he wishes he wore running trainers, too. Though the only think worn about those was the sponge from the inside. To this day they still look factory-new.

'It was Jas-'

Jasper elbows the Bear in the stomach, forcing an unexpected animal yelp from his open smile.

'And why does Jasper-'

'Don't give me that look, Es.' Em whines, tilting his head as if patronisation is the greatest form of flattery.

'It was Edward,' Carlisle explains, voice low.

'Dude! What the fuck?!' Edward moans, sneering at his buddy. It's only fair. How dare Carlisle actually mature enough not to defend the baby. How mean of him.

He'll be locking the babygate next. Taking away the toys. Soothing the diaper-rash.

'What the fuck?' Carlisle responds, sarcastically. More so than my interior monologue. 'I'll tell you what the fuck. What the fuck to a so called bachelor party. What the fuck to an X-rated pop quiz and What. The. Fuck to a size -'

'Dude!' I hiss, stopping him by taking a hold of his arm. He's warm and though excitable in his speech, I know he's not angry. He's irritated. Flirting with disbelief as he always does.

'Lover's tiff?' Jasper mocks, lips curling to that awful side smile that I'm desperate to punch off his face.

'Fucker's tiff more like. You should see the state of him-'

'Emmett!'

'Come on!' He groans, hands coming up. 'I said one thing! Nothing compared to chatterbox over here, relaying all the positions he'd caught you in-'

'What?!'

'Ooops…'

'I've had to deal with this all morning-' my utterly unreliable and suddenly self-involved Saint whines petulantly, turning from them like the smell of adolescence makes his nose turn. 'You handle it.'

'Me?!' I repeat, trying to stop myself from yelling at him. It'd be best if I refrain from overreacting before he has the chance to offer a smile and the reminder of what a joke consists of. 'Edward, you haven't caught us anywhere-'

'I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, it just slipped out-.'

'Jeez, We didn't need to know it in that much detail, Kid.' Em jokes, falling into a round of loud laughter with Jasper echoing loudly, slapping each other like seals in a circus on acid. Carlisle is scrubbing his forehead, fiercely, trying to rub away both skin and brain cells.

'Slipped out?' I repeat distastefully.

'Gotta love a hot shower, right, Es?' He continues to snigger. Eyeing my fury, he's roams his palms around his logo t-shirt, rubbing himself in mockery to most porn videos. And what I assume is his presumptions of me in the shower. 'Something about steam and tits that just-'

'Enough!' Carlisle snaps and considering he dismissed his own involvement, the sudden sharp volume makes me jump. 'You've had your fun. Mocking me is fine, but I advise you seriously reconsider where you're going before opening your mouth -'

'I can fend for myself.' I remind him, looking wide eyed at his plump split lip.

'You shouldn't have to against your friends'

'Come on Carlisle. It wasn't meant like that.' Jasper murmurs, shrug nearly pulling him to the floor. It's almost too late. The expression isn't one of laughter anymore. Edward is throwing himself into words of defence but with a hand slicing motion, our Saint shuts him up.

'Don't forget what you are saying and in whose company. Three men discussing the bedrooms habits of a lady is beyond inappropriate-'

It shouldn't do, but this comment pisses me off. Only half as much as Emmett's guffaw; 'But, Es is hardly a-?'

'Woah, woah, woah.' I interrupt, a hand waving in the slapped face. 'No. Too far.' I warn him, concise and neutral but not hard when I'd address him. With his teeth edging on the slit, he composes himself. 'You're going too far.'

'It's not okay that they talk about you in such a manner-' Carlisle retorts, frowning. It's obvious he thought I was intending to silence Emmett. This has thrown him. I continue to shake my head.

'Hon, think about what you're saying. Fine, they might seem disrespectful in your view.' He frowns at my words though continues to at least pretend like he's listening 'and I admire that but you're forgetting who you're discussing. Emmett was my wingman?'

'Was?!'

'But-' Carlisle says.

'These guys have known my bedroom habits better than me. Who do think I got all my experience from?'

His jaw unhinges.

'Okay…' I realise, tensing up with vomit inducing horror. 'I did not mean it like that. What I meant was you don't need to be unreasonably defensive. They're used to me openly recommending techniques. This is their 'normal'-'

'I'm so confused.' Edward groans, looking between his buddies and the two of us, facing each other in the easiest and gentlest argument I might ever have had. 'Are we getting yelled at or not?'

'No.' Carlisle sighs, tiredly. Looking up at me with such apologetic and understanding eyes that I can't quite believe he's a real person. Nor that he's accepted my retort with no smart ass retort. 'No. I'm sorry. I jumped the mark.'

'Actually, yes.' I correct.

'What?' Jasper this time.

My right fist curls and ensuring to punch them from the side and not via knuckles, I lay as many frantic punches in as I can before Carlisle steps in.

'If any of you sad fuckers wants to mock my sex life then I swear to fuck you'll be seeing stars before you try it again! Got it?!'

'Ow!' Edward curses, rearing back from me as Jasper copies. Only Emmett is smart enough to remember I'm not going to cause any damage. Or much pain. If I wanted to give them pain, I'd know about 4,000 ways to implement it. Starting with a childish twisting of the forearm.

'Now get out-.' I finish, staring at them all in turn. I've used a neutral tone so as not to sound particularly cruel but their faces reveal only images of pale fright.

'Wait, what?' Carlisle asks, facing me in shock. They didn't think we'd go this far.

'I second that motion. I live here, they don't. Send them out!'

'Hey!' Jasper again, slurring.

'I said out. Get out. Out of our living room. Out of our house. Get out before I kick you out, permanently.'

'What?!' Edward repeats, hysterically.

'Out!' I annunciate, shoving Emmett's shoulder towards the door.

'But-'

'I would listen to her.' Carlisle warns, astoundingly suspicious. 'I would really, really listen to her.'

'I never said it was for forever. I want some time.'

'Time to bone.' Jazz mutters.

'I don't think so.' I turn to face Carlisle's, bless him, arrogant pout. 'You're out too, Cullen.'

'What?' He repeats, even more shook with confusion between the guffawing of boyish-humour. 'Why?'

'Because if there's going to be lad talk, I don't want to be around to hear it.'

'You know I would never participate in, or facilitate any kind of-'

'And while I don't want to hear it, I also want to ensure I am well depicted and defended in such a scenario. You're keeping them in check.'

'But-' he blabbers, reminding me of a sharply uncorked bottle of fine champagne, frothing forth with fizzles of no substance.

'Carlisle?' I call.

'Carlisle.' They sing; I glare at the boys and watch them shrink under my glaring eyes.

'What's going on?'

'Babe, please? I'm tired, I'm irritable and I just want a bit of time to chill out.' It almost sounds as if the boys might mimic that but they change their minds quickly and say little. 'Why don't you go kick a football around or something?'

'Because it's raining?' Edward says obviously. I roll my eyes.

'I have a headache.' I say and even though it's not entirely true, Carlisle still nods thoughtfully. His posture is slumping in realisation and offering a soothing look of concern, he nods.

They mumble under their breath quite a bit, cursing me and their dismissal and pulling on their jackets miserably. I get the impression they're just going to go to the bar around the corner and maybe grab lunch or at least that's what Carlisle is offering to get them to move.

'Are you sure you're okay?' He asks, voice so gentle that it slips into an accented whisper. He reaches out a bruised hand to hold against my arm and then gently lifts my chin so we're eye to eye.

It's harder for me to lie this way.

'Go eat something.' I suggest, smiling. 'Get rid of them and I'll see you in an hour.'

'This is a ploy?!'

'Make sure Jasper keeps his mouth shut?'

'Of course.' He says, nodding, a smile creeping until I shut it down with a glare. 'I'll see you soon.'

He presses his lips to my forehead, eyes my wet dreadlocks with worry and waves me off out the door.

It's the first bit of peace that I've chosen to undertake in a long time.

There's lots of things I get done while he's out. Bedding for starters. Paperwork. Losing papers. Filing paperwork. It's too quiet without them and I'm almost tempted to phone but that plan is quickly abandoned for the sake that I can't be bothered to look for wherever I've thrown my phone. I've been reading through my class schedules. My grades, predicted grades, my resume. I've been looking at my work and finally when I can't put it off anymore, I phone the college.

There's no reply. It's Sunday. I shouldn't expect anything. But there's not even an answering machine. The line is closed.

This doesn't get me down. I'm in a self-bettering mood. I'm pleased, I'm thoughtful and I'm soberly considering everything Carlisle laid at my hands last night. Job on one hand. Home on the other. Two futures.

'I'm home.' He calls loudly, jumping a little when he realises I'm curled on the sofa with folders in my hands. I've been looking through my car paperwork as a quick distraction. I'm not sure why I'm so focused on finding every letter pertaining to my existence. There's just a niggling feeling demanding I check everything.

'Hey,' I murmur, focused in my hands. He appears at my shoulders and though I didn't expect it, I'm pleased when he kisses me. He's cold from being outside, the cut on his lip touching briefly against mine and his cheek still boldly painted. 'How was lunch?'

'As I was saying earlier about company-.' He smiles apologetically and changes course of conversation on realising he's interrupted. 'Lunch was good. They're going to Em's house. They've sworn not to say anything else… how about you, how's the headache?'

'Worse.' I grumble, irritated at how evilly I tempted fate. He gives me a look. So I do as instructed and slam the folder closed, rubbing my eyes and grinning.

'About the company. They were trying to get a hold of you. Left a few messages but when I asked, they insisted on speaking to you personally.'

Company? So that wasn't just a reference to Jasper then?

'Personally?' I repeat, unsure. 'Wait, you know where my phone is? I've been looking for that…'

'Home phone.' he corrects. My stomach starts to tighten.

'Only me?' I ask.

'Yeah, didn't say who it was but they were pretty insistent.'

'Who was it?' I ask.

'I don't know, Es.' He reminds me, chuckling. 'Didn't leave a name.' He frowns at my expression and runs a finger along my cheek. 'It wasn't him.'

'What?'

'It wasn't my father or anyone like that. I would recognise the number.'

'Oh.'

'Don't worry.' He says, eye colour drowning my horrors and leaving me calmly serene. 'I… think it's good.'

'Good?'

'It's a surprise.' He corrects, smiling.

'But I don't like surprises.'

'No. You love them.'

I sigh and push back my fringe, eyes on his neck, those funny little bruises and offended by their title. Bites or bruises. Both suggestions had an air of violence to them that I don't like.

'So you know who phoned then?' I guess, frowning a little.

'No… not really. I can guess but I think I'd rather not for now.' He has a cryptic look on his face, enough to tie him into the Masen bloodline excusing his lemony colour in contrast. 'Don't be alarmed though.'

'Funny.' I mutter, and then I have to smile because that's what he's doing.

'Edward will be returning his father car.' He checks his watch and hesitates. 'I get the impression he's going to spend a few days with them. I'm not sure what they're doing but he's been very adamant about staying out the house….' He finishes with another slight round of inoffensive humour.

'Typical.' I groan, rubbing his arm. He grimaces.

'Es…'

'Yeah?'

He smiles guiltily and lowers his eyes to the arm of the sofa, spotting a freckle of mine and touching it gently. 'I kinda need to study…'

'Oh Carlisle,' I say, laughing. 'Of course, go right ahead. I think I might study a little, too.'

'For your classes?'

I nod. 'At least just Olivia's class. She set some interesting reading this week. I want to catch up on it.'

Want. Actually want. How peculiar.

Perhaps this is another thing which proves how new we are to this. How easy it is to study with him. How fun it is. It's a distraction as well of course. But a motivation. I find I can trick myself into reading laborious, over zealous lines as long as I reward every paragraph with a glance to his statuesque features. His quick moving hand, the way his eyes close and the words bubble like he's casting an incantation.

That's how easy it is to love Carlisle Cullen. It's a reward.

Unfortunately, like most reward systems I've built, I become greedy. Before long the book in my grasp has been placed together and I'm eyeing him so carefully that I can just watch him without him noticing. He's so immersed in what he's doing but somehow still open to everything around him. His left hand balances over the keyboard of his laptop. His talented fingertips rest gently on the buttons, using only the smallest amount of pressure to create a sentence. The words from book to eyes flow easily in both hands and while they work independently, they work together, too. He types a sentence one handed while closing notes upon the paper in front with his right hand. His handwriting is a little looser today, probably on account on his stiff aches. The sound of his deep but quiet breathing almost makes me feel sleepy. It's calming, the gentle lull of waves on an exotic beach. His fringe is curving, he's reading quickly, processing his thoughts like lightening with an occasional eyebrow turned in reference either to a straying thought, or as I have guessed, the music behind him.

He never normally works with music on and though I realise it's both antisocial and selfish of me to have chosen it, he simply soaks it into his surroundings. A foot swinging to a line of beats, mouth cupping the lyrics and miming them so softly it's hard to tell he's doing it.

His whole life is his work.

It's not naïve of me to realise he's thinking brashly about moving. Moving from his hospital right now would be the same as dropping a half-eaten meal into the trash while your stomach growls for more. There's so much more for him to indulge in. The grass is always greener. Washington.

There's still one sense that he hasn't quite allowed himself to regress into his time alone.

He can obviously see just fine. He breathes evenly, in through his nose, casting an eye to detect it's source. Twice it's been the unlit candle in front of him. I've just caught him consuming the old age smell of a hardcover book, the old glue that he draws upon like nicotine. The murmuring of his lips example how apt is hearing is and the fact that he sighs contently every time he sips his fruit-induced water prove that his taste is effective.

Four out of five senses working to their optimum standard.

The last will require his training.

I unintentionally creep up behind him, reading over his shoulder at his heavy work and though he slumps slightly, his body can't help but flinch under my hands. Jumping, he turns his face and offers a guilty smile, forcing himself to relax under my hands so that it soon comes naturally. For now I'm just marking out the feeling of his arms, thumb pressed against that pinker flesh in matters of briefness. Though he's tense I remind myself not to massage him too thoroughly considering his rougher evening yesterday.

'How's it going?'

'Hmm…' He replies, nodding so I move my hand a little lower and grin when the sound changes from a simple 'Hmm' to a long 'Mmm.'

'A lot to do?'

'Loads.' He curses, frowning. I kiss his temples, trying to ease the shape of his skin and allowing myself to chuckle when he tries to drop into me.

'I'll be in the kitchen if you need me.'

'Kitchen?' He says, hopefully. 'What's on the menu?'

'Revenge…' I say simply, knowing my sweet smile may look somewhat of a contrast. I'm pleased he's confused.

'And how do you plan to enact this revenge…?' He asks, a melody of humour entertaining the two of us.

'You'll just have to wait and see…'

Considering patience is the one thing Carlisle is an expert in, I'm thrilled when he remembers the true boundaries of when patience becomes disinterest.

Adoration does funny things to the human anatomy. As does excitement. And the desperation for the upper hand. It's so easy to return to my good mood when I'm with him that I almost forget my conversation with Alice earlier. It's not exactly a bad thing. Considering she said she'd text me however, I decide phoning her for a random, less dramatic phone call isn't unreasonable.

She's happily talking about Bella. Raving about how talkative she's been today and there's only one person to answer for that; Edward. We chat for a while, or rather, I listen and accumulate the gossip, busying my hands in a simple cake mix and letting it cool. Once that's done, I can move onto my real intentions.

It's fairly obvious to me why I've chosen the measurements I have but it still produces the little line of confusion from my Saint's face. He allowed himself only a brief distraction, breathing in the smell of baking like it's making him float.

A hand even aligns itself gently on my right hip when he peers over at my hands.

'Revenge smells sweet.'

'It'll taste better.' I promise grinning manically. It's like adding poison to my cauldron and I laugh more. Then he put his lips to mine, pulling me in for a fleeting, open mouthed smooch. My cheeks warm for no real reason and the buzz in my gut of sudden weightlessness has me feeling even shyer.

It's not like it's even arousal. Just excited disbelief…. Mixed with suggestions of arousal, of course. He is beautiful.

As for now, I continue to stir the icing. I've separated it in half, which is far too excessive even for my standards but I like to be sure. The thought of baking is suddenly far from my eye.

It's only icing sugar in the bowl. Water is added to the fine dust to make it into a thick, obscenely grotesque white. Too white. It's sticky on my thumb but sweet on my tongue and though the thought is obviously not far from my mind, it's enough of a distraction to stop me again.

After a very brief rummage upstairs for the necessary equipment, I return to my icing and hesitate. Maybe a little more water. The paste is less thick but still gloopy, still that white which is so pure, it's dirty.

I've torn the packet, place a syringe into the opening and carefully deposit about an inch of icing into it. This is when my love discovers the perfect boundary. I hear him sigh, arms folded across his chest as he watches my spine from the doorway.

'All okay?' I ask, refusing to turn around.

'Mm.' He hums, stretching to peak at my hands. 'Bored now though… and I can smell food.'

In the time it has taken for the cake to cool, before the decorating started, I've prepped a simple dinner into the oven. I've made too much as usual, forgetting that it's just the two of us but I can always save the rest.

Unluckily for that hungry smirk, dinner is a long way of yet.

'It'll be a while yet, Love.' I say, warming the filled material in my palms and distributing the liquid accurately.

'Mm.' I can feel his curiosity peaking. 'Esme?'

That really didn't take long. He's smirking though I'm sure this is because he hasn't guessed my sweet, literally sweet, revenge. It's so clever I might as well collect a PHD already.

'What are you-'

'Does this look real enough?' I ask, waving the condom in his face, and very nearly hitting him with it.

He reals back to avoid being slapped with the latex. Those blue eyes focus and then, in amazement, a smart, concise smirk lights up his cheeks when he looks from contents of the bowl to the contraception in my hand. If he was meant to look frightened, he's hidden it well and now the colour comes swimming back into his skin.

'You're asking me?' He chuckles, using the back of his hand to raise the end closer to the light.

'Of course.'

'You know as well as I do, if not better, that I would not have much experience in such an area….' He chuckles again as if proving he's not offended. I raise my eyebrow at him.

'You've been looking at Male ejaculate for years-'

'Only my own.' He defends, head tilted to laugh a little more. My lips form a wicked pout and without meaning to, I gaze thoughtfully at him from under my lashes, my right hip coming up to rest my elbow on.

'Exactly.'

His eyes close, squint, then relax again. In through his nose, trying not to smile, and then he looks at me again.

'Little less thick.' He whispers, huskily. My teeth bite into my lip, drawing the colour into them. I add a little more water into the tube, mix it up by squeezing the material and hand it back to him.

'Could you put this on the piano stool for me?'

'Es!' He gasps, laughing harder.

I'm not laughing. Grinning, sure, but I'm feeling extremely devilish. He hesitates and then with a roll of his eyes, cups his hands over the one holding the condom. His fingers are smooth, delicate along my hand and deliberately raising the flesh to tingle.

'You need to make it look like-'

'I gathered.' He replies, cheerfully. He mutters something about causing trouble, yet can't help but aim to please.

'Another?' He asks, slightly more worrisome now. It didn't take him long to complete his task which makes me think he didn't do a particularly great job but we're in this together and I've got to let him help.

Well…I'd like to at least.

His amused chuckle is warm on my neck, shrouding me in that friendly feeling of jittery worry. My hands tremble a little what with him standing so close to me. He's not touching me but I can feel his words as well as hear their smooth whisper. He's placed both hands at the edges of the counter, either side of my hips.

It's almost like he's enclosing me, had I not longed for such a feeling.

'There are three of them…' I remind him, eventually. I've only just remembered to answer him and my voice is croakier than I meant it to be. Nonchalant like, I try to brush my clipped fringe away, running a hand through it and combing it back before drawing my hand back to task at hand.

We both seem to be ignoring the fact that I have essentially just rubbed lube into my hair.

'Two live together.' He murmurs and the calming strength of his presence eases my shoulders into a gentle roll backwards.

'I was going to put one in Em's car…' I say, pretending to be focused though I'm very distracted at this moment in time. He stretches out his hands, humming quietly, voice slow and stretched into soothing lengths.

For now, I have a better soothing length in mind. Without being too obvious, I push a little on my tiptoes, the skirt of my dress swishing when I push my ass out again. He doesn't say much but I can see the raise of his eyebrow in the reflection of the clock.

Our eyes meet, his questioning but daring and I quickly thumb my handy work for a distraction.

'Is this enough?' I ask, sounds irregular in response to my beating heart.

'You're asking me?' He repeats.

'I want it to be accurate, Carlisle.'

I feel him come closer, the air around us shifting in response to the warmer atmosphere. Every cell in this kitchen is heating to about seventy degrees. We're going to have to strip soon.

'Personally speaking…' His lips are at my neck. They touch the beating pulse, they play against it. Make my hands quiver. 'More.'

'More?' I repeat.

'So much more…'

My lips press together, and after I inhale, I let the breath drop to my breasts. He doesn't shift, he waits to see my reaction. He wants to know what I want. I want him. Urgh, I want him. I fill a little more of the condom, show it off before tying the end again and closing a fist on the head, squeezing the liquid and spreading it around to give off the impression of a well spent night. He inhales too, touching the nerves of my skin, and making several parts moist when he exhales.

No matter how much I push out my ass, let my skirt ride up with a fist tugging the fabric at my stomach, he stays regimented, eyeing the bowl from above. It's difficult to be not so obvious when I try to show off my cleavage. He hasn't noticed.

'I'm impressed at just how real it looks…'

'Good.' And I mean it, licking a bit of the icing of the side of my thumb and nodding in appreciation. 'Tastes good, too.'

I drop my thumb into the mix, making a figure of eight before pulling it out to look at it. A huge drop slides down the skin before dropping with a slop back into the puddle of icing. Raising it as an example, I try my best to not let my bodily needs make this anymore suggestive than it already is.

'May I?'

That's all he ever asks. It's never specific. So much so that I nod absently, ignoring the pressing of heat and my tight thighs, putting the sticky white stuff close to my lips to take the rest of.

'Of course.' I say.

Instead of dropping his own digits into the icing, he challenges my expectations by enclosing his left hand over mine, lifts my dirty white thumb into view. He eyes it, going cross eyed from over my shoulder before closing his mouth over it.

It shouldn't be this bad. The heat is unbearable. It rushes from the hot wetness on my digit, right into the depth of my bones, pinching under my breasts like affectionate nibbling before heating the space between my legs. Soaking both areas with only one form of direct contact.

He sucks the sweetness from me, holding me steady because I'm jittering under him, teeth gentle against the knuckle before pulling his lips away.

'I think you're intentionally making me squirm, Doctor Cullen.' I utter breathily, stuttering deeply for him.

He doesn't quite reply, his lips are tightly closed and locking his fingers into mine, he folds my arms over my stomach like a barrier. Except I can feel his fingertips on my hips. Managing somehow to free hair from the side of my neck, he brushes his nose on the left side. Achingly slow while I beat in his arms.

'Intentionally ignoring me now, huh?' I tease, eyes closing when I rest my head back. It allows him further access and his straight nose now aligns with the corner of my jaw, down again.

'Mm.' He hums, lips still firmly closed.

My palms are strating to sweat, heat and moisture pooling into my skin so that I can smell my own desperation. Restraint isn't my strong point and while he still tickles my neck, I break my left hand free from his hands to slip to the back of his hair. He chuckles, closed mouthed still, breathing in from my throat.

He presses his hard lips to the side of my neck, his lower lip dragging along the bone. He breathes in, patient, fingertips smoothing music into me, swaying me ever so minutely that we could not be moving at all. He's waiting for permission.

So I grip his hair tighter. He doesn't move.

'Must you always rely on the words I say?'

He nods, nose coming up and gliding down again. Slow.

'Can't you just listen to the demands of our anatomy?'

He doesn't murmur his question but he does slow even more, his raised eyebrow as sexy as it is when we were simply flirting. Imbedding my hand, I pull him against me, having my ass slap perfectly against the firm restraint of his pants. His murmur catches, a little more breath slipping from his throat. Frowning.

'Please.' I murmur.

He parts his lips, placing them to the bone and with a perfect vacuum, sucking. I realise why he had his mouth shut. He didn't swallow the icing and he rolls it now from his tongue, to my skin, licking it up again before rubbing it back into my neck. The flicker of the hard wetness makes me shudder and coming up taller on my tip-toes, my hands start to grip. So he parts his mouth wider, taking more of my skin and loving that. Pulses everywhere. From my neck, my fingers, my heart, my stomach, between my legs.

A moan slips out when he clamps down a little and in a hurry to need him, I draw my skirt up past my panty line. Gently, he tugs my hand from my skin. He finishes my neck with an energy stealing, hard suck, and has to roll his hard-on beneath me to stop me from slipping to a mess on the floor.

For a second, I'm thinking he's wasted a great opportunity. Instead, using two fingers, two very bad and suggestive poised fingers, he breaks through the sloppy icing in the bowl. He soaks his fingers, coats them, makes them drip and while nibbling on the back of my ear, he drapes the liquid from my neck, to collar bone and forming a pool of sticky whiteness on the top of my breast, above the bra and neck of the dress.

This moan is a little louder.

He's ever so neat.

While clearing his stripe of liquid, lapping it up greedily, he keeps his fingers raised away to avoid spillage. I was squirming. Now I'm actively moving. Freeing my shoulders first for him to move down. The bra step he combats for himself before sucking the stickiness from my upper left breast. So I move his fingers into the cup. I ease them around, push his touch into my arousal and shudder desperately when I feel his.

I'm tugging at my skirt by this point but he stays patient, captivating with his blond locks brushing softly along my cheek bone. Eventually, the summer colours of my dress pool around my bare feet and raising myself more, I try to lean back to give him better access.

'Please… enough teasing?' I beg and the sound of his, granted, pleasant chuckle does little to help put me at ease. I couldn't be at ease. We always start off at ease and after two minutes, I'm soaked, clamping myself shut and trying not to jump hastily onto his dick.

Savouring the moment takes so much patience.

Nevertheless, he listens. His free hand he moves to undo the bra, sliding the strap further off each arm, swallowing his mouthful and kissing where he's drawn a path to, lips in tune to the furious pump of my blood.

His hands, brutality smooth on my underwear, drape gently, he presses himself into me, he makes me whine for him and once he can be sure I'm ready, he spins me around to face him.

'Are you planning to kill me?' I complain.

He's stays quiet, shaking his head in a quiet 'no'. My bra he helps push to the ground and once both breasts are on full display, he forgets about his bitten lip and bites into it as though trying to reproduce the same cut. They're full, moving with every pounding breath, every unrest raining heartbeat and moving life into my mouth, tongue on tongue like ice skaters on melting ice, he slides his palms down my body.

I shiver three times before he cups my ass. Then he feels me, ever so gentle and I shudder a fourth time and groan. Spinning me with care, he lifts me with ease on the counter, parting my legs into a perfect V so he can see the damp crotch spreading the more he teases.

His mouth returns from my hungry lips, down the sticky path to my right nipple. The other, wet with icing, is rubbed by the pad of his thumb and because he knows I get off from my nipples teased, he doesn't shy away from pressing them into me, sucking the white from them individually till they shine and stand out to attention.

I'm tensing my legs so tightly to avoid ruining this moment that I almost forget to watch him suck the other nipple.

There's a clatter of utensils being pushed away and breathing me in, he rubs his tongue under me. He makes me squirm and he makes me pant and better yet, he does so knowing how to please me.

More icing is dripped down my torso and he laps it up, making me giggle when he kisses the taste from my body. He flickers his tongue in my naval, sighing when I involuntarily shift my hips, hot, wet mouth on my frail desperation.

He pauses when he gets to my underwear and watches my expression carefully. He's just kissed the skin and though that felt so good…I'm suddenly a little shy.

'I…I've never…'

He waits, patient.

'Carlisle, I've never had someone give me oral before…'

'Why not?' He frowns and even from hear I can see it's a complaint. He's frustrated for me.

I shrug, embarrassed, still writhing but for a slightly new reason. 'It's just… it's a little… I don't want you to…'

'My Love, if you don't want me to-'

'No!' I say quickly, cringing. 'It's not that. I want it…'

'I'd be happy to give it.' He promises and aware of my boundary line, he kisses and licks above it, teetering closer to my stomach and having my eyes roll back into my head. I'm so ready. If he goes down there, he'll drown.

'I'm … too turned on…' I excuse but I don't know why I say it. He is offering the single sexiest thing beside his cock and I'm wimping out?!'

'Is there such a thing?'

'I'm… I'm too sensitive.' I babble, cringing again because I still want him, oh God I want him.

'My Love…' He says gently, extending, hands on the back of my hips, to keep me from falling when he moves is lips into mine.

I get that same shudder again. The shudder of absent hunger, the kind of weightless need that makes me almost abandon everything just to gorge myself on wanting him.

'I want to.' I correct myself, steadier already, the more I focus on how trusting he is to me. I knead the skin at the back of his neck. 'I really, really want you too. But…'

'If you'd like to…' He kisses me again, smacking the love into every nerve and making his grin insanely overwhelming. '…we can always give it a go and the second you have the slightest bit of doubt-'

'I want to.' I say again. 'But, Carlisle… I'm really…' I never thought there'd be a time where I'd be ashamed of such a feeling. 'Wet.'

With a smirk, he gives in to a noisy groan.

'I can't think of anything sexier….' He promises, reminding me on how easy it is to trust him with a simple snog. 'Don't forget that twenty-four hours ago, I was a virgin.'

This is the sentence that makes me feel entirely normal once more and I feel my smile widen.

'Okay.'

'Okay?' he repeats and then he sees my shy nodding and combs back my hair. 'Okay… To remind myself…?'

Though his kisses are loving and affectionate and warm, his tongue is fire and passion and need. The constant battle of the elements of his lips are sending me nuts and when he sucks my nipple again, more for show, I actually gasp so loud he initially thinks he hurt me.

The path he takes is a similar one to last time except more detailed and a little less teasing. I'm panting enough as it. He eyes my worry, waits for me to promise I want it and drags the cold icing up along the inside of both thighs.

Instead of soothing heat, my skin boils it.

The moment his lips move to my legs, the feeling of shy embarrassment is long forgotten and I'm so consumed with not yelling rude demands that I'm drawing blood from my lip. His tongue moves further east of my thigh, sucking the flesh and the pulse and stopping just before the break in panties. He does the same for the other thigh, nipping where he knows I'll like it and calming me by keeping me not calm.

'May I?'

The damn underwear and I nod, muttering my affirmations like they're curse words. I might be soaked but I'm still nervous and when he, slowly slips the underwear from my plump thighs, I'm quivering so much I have Goosebumps.

'You're beautiful…' He murmurs, nibbling on my thigh with a hand in mine. I'm gripping his. Not for fear anymore so much as intensity. I need to not come. Not too soon. I also need to try make this less wet for him.

Should I be this turned on?

'Here… why don't we start simple?' He kisses my mouth, distracting me with the lushness of his lips on mine, consuming me when suddenly he slides two fingers along my slit.

'Carlisle!'

Fuck, I'm not going to cope.

He waits, on edge but I knot my fingers around him and pull his lips back to mine, purring for more. He chuckles, kisses turning hotter when he eases in first the one middle finger, then realising just how wet I really am, adding in the second.

'Urgh, fuck.' I groan, hands tearing at his shirt, at anything to feel more. I've pushed my ass to the edge of the counter, not just for matters of ease, lifting myself ever so slightly when he pumps his hand in me again. I really am yelling out demands now for him not to stop.

'Exquisite.' He murmurs, kissing more of my flesh.

'More.' I grunt, limbs acting on their own when my legs part wider for him. He slows his hand and drags his fingers to the very end of my entrance. He's still kissing down my body, making me pant and groan, easing me back slightly, still awkwardly dressed with hungry eyes on my wet entrance.

'Yeah?' He asks.

'Oh God, yes.'

Taking his time, lips on my hips, my thighs, on my pubis, he sighs, rearranges his grin and moves his mouth to my pulsing core.

It's so good it's bad.

Pointing his tongue, he parts my wet folds, shifting slightlyin before letting the flat surface align itself to my clit just briefly. I'm cursing again, hands so tight on whatever I'm gripping that my knuckles are white. He pants a little too, pausing to stare up at me beneath his own, guttural and sexy groans.

'You taste so good, Esme.'

Maybe I would blush if I could make sense of English right now. I can only just speak it, no use understanding it.

'Please.' I chant, because it's the only word I know. His tongue comes up again. Wet on wet. Soft on soft. Sensitive on sensitive. I'm trying really hard not to lose focus.

I'm doing really well actually.

He manages to do six gentle, painfully slow laps of his tongue dragging from clit to hole. He's so grateful too, licking, teasing, blowing, and making me ache in need and the whole time praising every inch of flesh.

He moves his fingers just in time for his tongue to nip around the hood of my clit and it's enough that I'm suddenly failing to remember life around me. Mid pant, I suddenly gasp, head thrown back begging him not to stop.

'Oh God, Oh fuck.'

He pulls away, blue eyes clocking me full on and refusing to let me hide when his grin beams. He watches his fingers, encourages me to watch them too and slides with ease into my depths. I grip him so hard that we both groan.

'I need you. Oh fuck I need you.'

'We're nowhere near done yet.' He promises, squatting to his knees again. His right hand holds me steady for a little bit, where he can feel me pulse around his hand and once his grin turns mischievous, he returns his tongue to my swollen nub.

Except this time he stares at me while doing it and I'm so turned on, so desperate that after a few teasing zigzags, the teasing circles around the top of my slit are starting to lead to something far more serious.

It's hard to say when I'm holding him against me, exposed completely into his face while he proves that he really is too good to be true. But a grunt in particular catches his attention and he pauses while I'm still throbbing on the high slope.

'You're going to make me come.' I gasp, breathing deeply, one hand moving from the counter edge to squeeze and knead my own breast. I don't care if he sees. In fact, I want him to see me relieve myself. I need him so much right now that the loss of control is spiralling me into disillusion.

'Good.' He replies, flicking me into gasps. I'm moaning again, dirty, rude moans, needing them all.

'That's…ugh fuck… babe. That's not what I meant. You can't make me …' This sounds so much better when my body isn't trying to contradict me.

'Why?' he asks, warily.

'I need you to come.'

The speed of the words are too fast, my head is too busy, we're too crazy. I'm going to come so hard I'm going to lose myself if we're not careful.

'You have to come.' I repeat, breathily and the next sentence from his soaked and wet lips pushes me that little further.

'Oh, I will,' he promises, soothing my skin with just a smile and the rubbing on my thigh. 'Trust me, my love.'

Instead of just ending this sentence here, his tongue returns to me and I open myself up to him. Ready for him entirely, I let his sucking and his nibbling drive me to obsession. I pant, I bite, I moan, I squeeze, I pulse, I cry.

I let his hand pump into me so expertly but it's his tongue….

When it circles again, the gentle, slow movement crash my reality and shuddering, my high takes over me so entirely that I cry out not just his name but several intangible sounds. However, his godly status is proven once more.

Hands cupping my ass, as I'm mid sensation, creaming onto and around him, my clit beating, he aligns his mouth closer, over my cunt and takes as much as he can for himself.

I'm still whimpering and quivering after a few minutes since the orgasm but seeing the beautiful expressing of satisfaction on his features makes me wanna collapse.

'Fucking hell, Cullen.'

'I love how hard you come when I'm in you.' He slides his hand out and nuzzles my stomach, obviously self-conscious in case I'm my own biggest turn off.

'Who says that's you?' I tease, breathless still and having to hold onto him for balance.

'You do. When you scream my name.' He grins, proudly. Jesus he's so glorious.

'Don't get cocky.' I tease him, winking but the comment is enough to remind me of the second greatest thing about this moment. He almost blushes. 'I want you naked and I want you naked, now!' I demand of him, rubbing a hand on my thigh and spreading the remains.

'Sure?' he utters, in disbelief.

I pull him by the shirt and snog him, hands moving to his shirt buttons while he throws off his belt. I don't think I've ever tasted myself on another person either… I can see why he would be concerned but it's one of those strange kinks that is turning me on. I can taste myself on him. He is imbued with my scent.

He just made love to me with his mouth.

And the busier I am with our tongues coming together, the more noticeable and more discomfort he causes himself through his underwear. His hand slip down my legs to the hem of his shirt and he makes no easy task of awkwardly lifting it from his body, exposing his torso, turning darker every time I look at it. The poor onslaught of bruises, treating his ribcage to a more severe look, panning around as though he's been used as a slump of meat.

He thumb lifts my chin up and eyeing my expression, he smiles very carefully, eyebrows raised. I brush gently against it and the tiny scar, expecting him to flinch but he doesn't. He leans closer to me, hips against the counter as though he's concealing the obvious.

'Even bruised and battered, you continue to be my utter perfection…'

He makes an unusual face at me, half frowning but smiling too before looking away slightly. 'And you are my perfection, Esme.'

Pulling him back into me, lips on his sweet, all be it sticky, mouth. My tongue dancing against his, beating to the rhythm of my heart and thighs. We half undo his trousers together. I slide my hands down the sides of his underwear, tugging them off and freeing his hard on so that the exposure makes him gasp.

I have to lean to touch him so I trail my lips from nibbling on his earlobe, down to his throat, licking, sucking, kissing while my hands trail against his base. His eyes are closed, head thrown back slightly when he lets himself be fondled.

'Should we…?' He starts to ask and from behind my hip he grabs the box of condoms I was using. 'I mean they're right here…' he chuckles.

'Do you really want to wear one after this morning?'

'No.' He answers, concealing a grin. 'But I have to ask.'

'Carlisle, I want to feel every inch of you slowly sliding into my hot wet cunt…'

He shudders a little, revealing a bitten lip when I catch a look of his face. 'I love it when you talk dirty…'

'Actions are louder than words….?' I say, nibbling his collar bone.

He chuckles, kicks his ankles free from his clothing and takes a firm hold of himself. He rubs himself just the once, pulling the foreskin down, grunting delicately when I position myself at the edge. He's agonisingly slow, rubbing the head along my slit, having me shudder while he groans. A hand goes to hold mine in his hair, the other coming to my hip as he both gorge ourselves on the view of watching him disappear into me. I gasp, he shudders and ever so slowly moves deeper, lifting his hips to mine.

He meets them again, pauses to allow me to swear and beg to his chest and then kisses me while thrusting into me again.

'Fuck.'

He curses, stretching up and clapping into me so fully that he falters.

'Ah, fuck.' He repeats, groaning painfully, half falling into my weight, hands tightening on the counter.

'What? What is it?' I ask, still panting but eyeing the frown of his delicately. He's squeezed his eyes shut, drawing his hips out in agony. 'Babe?'

'I've got cramp.'

'What?' I ask.

'Cramp.' He complains, laughing from gasps of pain. 'In my fucking leg.'

'Are you okay? What can I do?'

He groans, hand sliding down the back of his calf as he tries to stretch it out. His cock is coated in me, standing to high alert on his stomach. I'm in a daze trying to make sense on why we're not having sex.

'I- I think it's going.' He murmurs eventually but when he steps towards me, his face reveals the pain.

'Get on the floor.' I laugh, pushing him away just slightly.

'But I love this position.'

'You can hardly stand.' I remind him, leaning into him for a snog. He gives me one but can't help and reveal the vast amounts of discomfort this causes by doing so. 'On the floor.'

He rolls his eyes, and very gently drops to the floor, close to the table, feet by the living room, head towards the sink. The strength of my orgasm has taken a lot of my energy but I manage to come down on wobbly legs, standing above him, so that he grins. I drop to my knees, letting him touch delicately against my folds before curving my ass out.

His hands come up, gently smoothing my skin, rubbing my ass, touching my thigh, spreading my legs. I shudder desperately and slide onto him perfectly.

'Esme. Fuck.'

Every inch of him is pulsing desperately around me, his features altering when I rub myself along him. He's panting under me, chest flushing, mouth drying though he tries to kiss me back.

'You're so beauti-'

My stomach is knotting alright, the shivers coursing through my body when I shudder against him. He meets my hips against, lovingly, slowly his hands coming around my torso though it makes me shudder hard.

'Hello?' Edward calls from the living room. 'You guys home?'

For Fuck sake.

From underneath, he mouths the same curse as me, still throbbing in me, needily. 'What do we do?' He whispers, urgent while Edward fumbles with the front door.

'Carlisle?' The kid calls. 'Es? Where are you guys?'

He kicks the kitchen door shut with his foot, slamming it almost and looking up at me, cock still pulsing.

'You'll just have to fuck me.' I whisper, chewing on the sounds and rubbing myself on him slightly.

He groans, quietly now and rolling over, lifts me slightly to rub his hips into me. To stop myself from yelling and groaning and moaning, I put my lips to his skin, taking him in and panting when the second high starts to rise needily.

Hands under my ass, he pounds into me, expression of pleasure stealing his face when his thrusting starts to become a little faster, harder too.

Just as he utters the words, he rubs his thumb to the top of my slit, playing with the button to send me over but I slap his hands away and open my legs wider for him. I'm already building and building fast, I want our timings to be exact.

Meaning that there's no way I'm allowing him to cheat himself out the easy way. Not after this morning. Not right now. He's fucking me so wonderfully and so lovingly that if it wasn't for our urgency, I would assume we weren't fucking at all.

'Fuck.' He groans when I clench around him, every time he comes right into me I'm nearly falling over the edge, the same thrusting calling me deeper and deeper and deeper.

Until, I'm squeezing onto him so hard that my hips buckle, milking him off his exploits to my ovaries and gasping when the pleasure cascades through me.

'Carlisle!'

Holding me close, he empties himself entirely, coming into me, throbbing, breath hot on my neck as his own restrained grunts and cries weaken.

He's better than me, I've taken to gasping, shuddering, aching until I selfishly slump onto him. He's warm but slightly damp with a layer of thin sweat that gathers at his forehead and neck. He chuckles, wrapping his arms loosely around my waist as if to keep me sliding off. His breath is evening out though it still has me moving. My eyes are already trying to close and though I can bet the kitchen floor is cold and uncomfortable, for now, there's no better bed.

'Guys?' Edward calls, and it proves how pathetic we are in that it's taken six seconds to forget our concern.

'Shit.' I echo, climbing off him and squeezing my legs together tightly. He snickers a little, grabs a clean cloth, wipes himself off then offers another to me as I'm tugging his shirt over my curves.

'Hello?' Edward repeats, rattling the kitchen door knob.

'Don't-!' We both warn him. It's too late. He enters, muttering complaints, sees us and slams the door shut, behind him.

'Are you kidding me?!'

'Dude!' Carlisle responds, covering his junk with a hand and frowning. I don't think I've ever heard him use the word dude before. It's a little odd. 'Get out!'

'We eat in here!' he repeats in a yell.

'Out Edward-!'

He comes forward wrenching his hands in his hair and glaring. 'You do realise my parents are out there don't you?!'

'What?!' I demand, horrified. Carlisle is suddenly looking a little pale and eyes our attire from the corner of his eye.

'What are they doing here?!' He hisses, grabbing his trousers and tugging them onto his legs. His left leg is still slow to move, stiff and I can assume he's still in discomfort.

As is Edward who catches a glimpse of his Buddy's genitals and holds a hand to his mouth to stop from gagging.

'Don't look then.' He comments, snarky.

'Is that meant to be a joke?! Look at the two of you!' He shakes his head, turning with a face to me. 'I swear to God this little merry-go-round of secrecy you've got us going on is ridiculous. You shit on me saying the tiniest thing-'

'It wasn't the tiniest thing, Edward. Alice can't know.'

'To hell with Alice. If you're doing it so openly in the kitchen- she'll find out.'

'You wouldn't…' I start to say, my jaw unhinging. Carlisle is on his feet now, gathering extra clothes in his hands and eying his brother of sorts warily. Right now he's certainly a conniving and evil brother.

'You're right, I won't.' He confirms and I let out a full sigh of relief. 'I won't need to, you'll give yourselves away in no time.'

'Edward-?' Liz calls, hand on the glass door. We jump forward but it's Edward himself who slams it shut again, hastily. 'Edward!' She reprimands snippily but those emerald eyes narrow through to my stone cold heart.

'What the fuck am I meant to do?!'

'Distract her, Edward.' Carlisle says obviously, hands jutting out. Hands are everywhere. In our hair, in the air, on the door, on the counter.

It's my eyes though which are concerned. There's a condom full of icing on the side, solidifying as we discuss our troublesome fate. The thought of solidifying makes me cringe and I squeeze my legs together tighter.

I'm not even wearing underwear.

'Did you not hear me? Pair-rents. Both.'

'Calm down.' He insists, mouth cracking.

'Me calm down?! You two should calm down!' He's sending hysterical again. 'You calm down!' He repeats gesturing once more Carlisle's lower body. I'm expecting him to blush or turn away instead he rolls his eyes.

'What is going on in there?! Why are you arguing?'

'We're not arguing Mother, we're-'

'It's fine Mrs, Masen. We'll be out in just a second!' I call, ignoring Edward's glare and wondering if it will be less suspicious to pull on my dress.

'Oh! Esme, Dear. I nearly forgot-' She goes to open the door but her son slams in back in her face. She's probably too old for a tantrum or to be looking like the annoying little sister whose throwing a tantrum but we hear her stamp her foot.

'Edward Anthony Masen if you dare-'

'Get out there before she pulverises me.' The kid sneers, gritting his teeth and baring them at Carlisle who frankly, looks far too pleased for the scene of things.

'Well get out and distract her then-'

'In our kitchen?!' He repeats, disgusted but slides through the door, jabbering back at his mother and insisting they check out something that needs fixing.

We're quiet as we listen. Attention focused on the sound of them going up stairs, probably to Edward's room. A warm set of lips press gently to my forehead.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah.' I say, laughing shakily. I was expected him to be a man of vibrant colours, or no colour at all, so to find him peachy is worrying. 'But we need to shower.'

'I know… think you can get away without washing your hair?'

I nod, moving over to chuck the condom away and hiding the box in the drawer. For now the leftover icing can go in the fridge ready for when I've got a spare moment.

He waits another second and then nods leading the way quietly up the stairs with his arm stretched out towards me to remind me to be quiet. The giggles are trying to consume me, but I try my hardest to be good, walking slow behind him, stifling my laughter and skipping quickly behind him.

Unfortunately for me, on pushing his door open further, he freezes and I come colliding into him. Followed by the gazes of all three Masen's.

'Oh Carlisle! There you are. How are you-?' she looks down at his abdomen, he's crossed his arms over himself though there's no need now he's completely flaccid. Her expression quickly becomes one of horror.

But her horror catches Edward and he takes in what was right in front of him all along, the badges of pain, the marks of my lips and I can only wonder which he's more disgusted by. Edward senior coughs, clearing his own embarrassment and trying to snap his wife into action but she looks like she's about to burst into tears.

The face of my Saint is very clear as he looks at Edward.

Are you stupid?!

'Just checking out the window… Edward said it got smashed.'

I'm staying hidden behind Carlisle though my instinct is to slink off to my own room. They can see me, if I move I'll look guiltier. What am I saying, I'm wearing a shirt and for the second time today I have the 'I've had epic sex' hair. If I walk anywhere, they'll see I'm not wearing panties.

'Yeah, the bottom left corner but it damaged some of the frame too…'

Manly speak is so awkward.

'You'll need a good sealant.' Senior muses, blushing gently. His wife's hand is gripping so tightly onto his arm, tears brimming and Carlisle flinches under her watch.

'We have some-'

'What happened?!' She bursts, unable to conceal it anymore when she rushes towards him.

He surprises me in stepping back and I don't know if that's because he's uncomfortable by the over display of needy affection or if the atmosphere of sex is still prudent in his mind.

'Nothing-'

'Liz…' Senior murmurs, trying to stop her. She chokes back a sob, a determined and angry sob and tightens a fist onto his hand. Carlisle is still looking away.

'This isn't what-'

'Liz.' Senior says, voice harder this time. 'Come on downstairs. Give them a bit of-'

'No!' She yells, shoving him back from her when he encourages her away again.

I can relate to her fury, I'd be just as frustrated trying to get the words out. I have been just as frustrated. She comes forward, reaching out to touch his cheek, the prudent red slap worse now that someone else is judging it.

He doesn't step forward so she retracts her hand back.

'Tell me that wasn't-?'

'I'm fine.' He promises, smiling awkwardly. 'It looks worse than it is.'

At this current moment in time, it seems his left leg is causing the majority of the irritation. He bites his split lip and looks down to his dark bruises. The line of hair pointing towards his dick. He doesn't know where to put his hands but he's trying to hide away.

'This was him?!'

'Liz!' Senior repeats and he's harder this time because he can read the discomfort in Carlisle's expression, how eager we are to get away. 'We're here to talk and we'll do that in time. A moment's privacy?' He asks and we briefly meet eyes before I look down and blush to every cell.

She's reluctant but nods, instructs Edward out of Carlisle's room, who looks away when glared at, and gently touches my hand on her way down the stairs. It's only been an evening but already the two them look tired, haggard with stress and concern, guilt eating them up for no real reason.

Carlisle waits for them to be downstairs before breathing. He looks like he just wants to curl up and sleep and I wish I could grant that.

Instead, with a shy grin at one another, we shower individually, making a real show of shutting off the shower and turning it on again, louder for the second person, and dress awkwardly.

'Are you okay?' I whisper, combing out my hair and touching him gently on the arm. It's warm in the house so the fact he's pulled a T-shirt and a jumper on is very telling. His hair is damp, pulled away from his face, his face drawn though he wears a pleased smile that hasn't left since we came together.

'Mm. You?'

'Mm isn't an answer, my love?' I remind him. He nods, folds a hand over mine and smiles a little more.

'I warn you now, whatever they have to say, it won't be good.'

It's the sort of sentence to make me frown in confusion but he simply gives me a knowing shrug and once I'm dressed, follows me downstairs.

I hate how he's always right.