Yes, I'm back after an unexpected hiatus of some months for which I can only apologise. I sincerely hope that it doesn't happen again as these past months have been some of the most frustrating and stressful months of my life and I can only hope they are behind me now.

Thanks go to all my wonderful, supportive FB friends who have nudged me along the road to writing again, and special thanks go to my beta mxpi1970 for not giving up on me.

As always, I own nothing. Stephenie Meyer owns all.

All I Want to Hear

Chapter 4

Carlisle stumbles through the days leading up to the return trip.

When they speak on the phone his spirit sings and his body hardens. The power that Edward's voice holds over Carlisle is absolute and his body responds without question, the soft tones filling his ears and spilling over, caressing his skin like warm silk.

Once the plane tickets are booked it all becomes real; terror rides shotgun with his yearning to see Edward again.

The appointed day dawns, too fast, and Carlisle once again finds himself facing the short, nerve-jangling journey from his anonymous safe haven to Maine. During the flight his thoughts wander, both to comfort and distract him from the reality of what is happening. He sees Edward's eyes, the miracle of desire alight within a sea of deepest emerald, and knows he would sooner die then never gaze into them again.

When the plane begins its descent into Maine, Carlisle's numb soul stirs and awakens, heeding the unspoken call of the one it is meant for.

~o.O.o~

Edward shifts from foot to foot, eyes fixed on the arrivals gate. Others around him smile at his obvious anticipation, perhaps for a girlfriend or long lost brother. When he appears, blond hair bright against his coat collar, Edward is seized with indecision, needing to run to him, to embrace him, to finally feel him in his arms again. What stops him is the knowledge of how Carlisle would react, the discomfort and awkwardness that it would generate. Instead he moves into plain view and waits to be noticed, waits for that first glance that will tell him what he needs to know.

Their eyes find each other and for a moment Carlisle falters in his tracks, caught between the urge to look away and the need to rush into welcoming arms. Edward's face is shining with happiness, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright; hypnotised, Carlisle walks toward him, his heart hammering, caught in the snare of Edward's gaze.

The onlookers see the reaction in Edward, his body tensing and shaking with unwanted adrenalin, and in that moment they think they understand. Carlisle stops, adjusting the bags over his shoulder; neither speaks until Edward breaks the impasse.

"I can't believe you're here."

For a moment, Carlisle cannot answer, cannot find the appropriate response. His hand rises and, unbidden, his fingers trace Edward's heated cheek. He whispers two simple words.

"So beautiful."

Edward's eyes drift closed for the brief caress, and the audience finally have their answer. Some smile, others look away, the majority respectfully averting their eyes from this private, much anticipated, moment of reunion. The shift in the air can be felt by all those around them – their restraint almost an affront to the powerful erotic charge they are generating. When they turn to leave the airport, a few members of the public watch them leave, hearts pounding, their own lives now seeming somehow lacking by comparison.

~o.O.o~

In the cab the air is tense, yet expectant. They are again as strangers despite their intense interaction over the telephone. Their bodies yearn to rediscover anew the power of their bond, but until they are alone there can be no further contact. Carlisle has withdrawn back into his shell, his detached mask back in place as they travel the busy streets. They don't talk despite their proximity, and although their hands lie, almost touching, on the seat, neither moves to close the space. For Edward, Carlisle's very presence is a rush and he cannot stop looking at him as a dying man in the desert would gaze upon a mirage of water.

Edward feels the heat radiating from Carlisle's body in the enclosed space. His throat is dry and he has the random thought that he should have bought a soda at the airport. Looking out of the window at the quiet day going about its business, he sees Carlisle's head reflected in the glass, turning now to gaze at him; he bites back a smile.

Carlisle fights the urge to make dismissive small talk during the short journey, the space between them instead filled with pregnant silence. He wants to tell Edward how much he has longed for this day, how much it means to him, but the thought of talking openly in a public place where they could be overheard engulfs him in fear. When Edward looks away, Carlisle admires the strong line of his jaw, the sweep of his eyelashes and the jut of his full, welcoming lips. The desire to make flesh the fantasies they have played out over the phone means their bodies both yearn for the heat of contact, the pleasurable burn when nerve endings sing with welcome arousal.

The cab pulls up at the kerb outside Edward's modest home, and he settles the fare before climbing out, carrying one of Carlisle's bags. When Carlisle joins him on the pavement, the cab pulls away and they are finally alone. Fumbling with his key, Edward opens the door and makes a clumsy entrance, bumping Carlisle's bag against the door frame. He stutters an apology, aware of the irony in the inelegant entrance, and leads Carlisle to his cosy living room. With the door closed behind them and the real world locked outside, both take deep breaths, silence hanging heavy in the air; neither has spoken since the airport.

Edward's eyes are that of a newborn seeing for the first time, the vision before him almost too beautiful to look at directly. To Carlisle, Edward is perfect, every nuance of his face an indelible image burned into his memory. He wonders what he would have done if this second meeting were a disappointment, if the chemistry had been all in their minds, fading with that fateful sunrise. To his immense joy, no doubt remains now. His eyes linger on Edward's lips, before slipping down to his fingers, his mind conjuring images of those same slender digits caressing and arousing his own flesh to Carlisle's commands, obeying without question. His quiet, involuntary gasp is loud above the sound of his own blood pumping through his head.

Edward's eyes darken in response, echoing his wordless imaginings, his voice uneven when he tries to speak.

"Get you a... I mean... can I get you something to drink?"

Carlisle's throat is dry, clicking when he swallows.

"Uh - coffee? Coffee would be good... right ... now..." His words fade into heavy silence.

Neither moves.

"You look so good." Edward's voice is low and unsteady, naked in its honesty.

Carlisle's mental resolve to take this slow, to talk and prepare for this second encounter of theirs, melts away leaving him a helpless victim of the heat flooding his skin. Lust is winning the battle with reason and he watches his hand reach out to cup the other man's cheek, Edward's face a portrait of pained desperation. He finds authority in the act of seduction, the need to make this beautiful man his once again, to claim him body and soul. Edward is shaking and no other words are uttered, strained gasps the only communication between them until Edward can hold back no longer.

"Please, Carlisle..."

The last shred of self control within Carlisle snaps. He looks into eyes full of hunger, seeing the beauty of the universe in their green depths, and pulls him close with a moan of anguished desire. Lips meet, so tentative at first, finding joy in the rediscovery of shape and fullness, the pleasurable sensation of warmth and pressure. When their tongues touch, heat coils and undulates before igniting into a white hot frenzy, hands burying into hair as each strives to mould their form to the other, to close any infinitesimal space between them.

When Edward moans, the wanton sound has Carlisle's stomach so knotted with desire that he almost cries out with the pain. This is no hotel room and there are no soft robes or seductive lighting to set the mood, yet the real world once again falls away when they touch, demanding nothing more than simple surrender. Carlisle's free hand meanders down the front of Edward's shirt, grazing his nipple in a provocative movement. Edward jerks, gasping, his mouth falling open in an 'O' of pleasure. A thumb traces lazy circles around the hardened nub sending shivers down Edward's spine when it ghosts over the peak. When teeth graze the tender spot beneath his ear, Edward's head falls back, offering himself to his tormentor, his willing body begging for more of the same. A warm mouth sucks at his soft skin, a tongue flickers along his earlobe before infiltrating the delicate shell - the feel of hot breath caressing damp skin sends waves of deep shudders through him that threaten to burn away his skin from the inside.

The noise is jarring, dragging both men from their oblivious trance.

When Edward manages to focus, he realises the phone is ringing. Swallowing hard to regain some modicum of control, his hand almost drops the phone before pressing 'accept'. The number is the hotel, and not one he is permitted to ignore. He deals with the issue, tells the staff the necessary arrangements to be made to manage the day shift, and disconnects the call.

"I'm sorry – they know I'm on vacation, but it was important..." The words hang in the air between them.

They look at each other, their desire still apparent although the intense heat from seconds before has now dampened. Edward's head is spinning, the blood coursing through him making him light headed and unsteady. Carlisle's hand reaches out and takes his, offering the support Edward needs in the moment.

"Have you eaten?"

Edward shakes his head. Carlisle himself has not been able to face food before the flight.

"We should get some lunch." Carlisle leans in and captures Edward's mouth in a brief, lingering kiss that illuminates Edward's face with a delicious pink flush. When he makes no attempt to move, Carlisle tugs at his hand.

"Yes – lunch. Good... good idea." He swallows. "I went grocery shopping and there are several choices we could have."

Carlisle smiles; he enjoys cooking, finding peace and calm in the repetitive action of chopping and stirring. He finds that his writer's mind is able to wrestle with the more pertinent questions with less effort and strain when his conscious mind is distracted. Finding the kitchen, his hand still holding on to Edward, he opens cupboards and extracts the ingredients for spaghetti carbonara. Edward can only watch as Carlisle's deft hands chop and slice, the simple dish ready in minutes. It is all he can do not to interfere, for he has no desire to cause an accident with the sharp knives, but his senses respond to every move of Carlisle's nimble fingers. The heat in the room increases, and Edward knows it's not entirely down to the stove.

They sit and eat, each with a chilled beer by the side of their plate. Each watches the other, but conversation is stilted, each too lost in their own thoughts, unsure of what to say. Carlisle remembers the last time they were together, how they had opened up to each other as their bodies calmed, able to discuss what was on their minds. That level of trust and intimacy only came with relaxation and right now he is too tense, too... expectant.

Edward feels awkward, somehow wishing he could cut through the invisible wall between them and talk to the man who had dominated his thoughts, both waking and dreaming. He knows that it is possible; he hopes they can build a relationship once a comfortable intimacy has been established that can be maintained outside the bedroom.

He also knows that this could take some time. Carlisle is a private man and his trust needs to be earned. He has secrets that stand between them, secrets that must be aired before they can move forward.

Edward can wait, for he believes with all his heart that he will get everything he dreams of. Patience is the key.

Carlisle is first to break the silence, laying his cutlery down on his plate, his meal finished.

"That was pretty good. At least we both had the garlic..."

He half laughs in his nervous state. To occupy his hands more than anything else, he swigs his beer, fingers toying with the label on the bottle.

Edward does the same, washing down the last of his spaghetti with a generous amount of beer. Silence descends once again; Carlisle rises and clears the dishes. Standing in the tiny, sunlit kitchen, he takes a shaky breath and starts to fill the sink with hot water.

"Leave them – they aren't going anywhere."

He turns to differ, to say that it's just the work of a moment to clean up, and sees Edward in the doorway, a wry smile on his lips. Unsure of how to verbalise his thoughts, he straightens, and Edward moves in, leaning around Carlisle to turn off the faucet. Their bodies brush together and the air stills as if holding its breath. A hand rests on his forearm and heat scorches his skin through the fabric. Carlisle's eyes close, his fingers gripping the sink.

"Let's go sit down and talk, okay?"

Edward's words are questioning and Carlisle hears the hesitation and... Was it nervousness? Carlisle follows him into the lounge room and allows himself to be pulled down into an old, well padded sofa. Looking around he sees a subdued colour palette of blues and deep purples, creating a warm and safe feel. He still feels somewhat uncertain in Edward's home; unfamiliarity his old enemy until Edward leans against him sending comfort messages to his panicked brain. Touching Edward's soft locks, he allows his fingers to take a leisurely tour while his eyes feast on Edward's, finding his centre, his ground zero. Right here, right now, Edward is his anchor to this place, allowing his soul to breathe without fear.

His heart exalts in the wonderful inevitability of this moment, the two of them alone with all the time in the world stretching ahead, blank pages on which to write their story. His fingers caress the sharp jaw line, the taut neck that strains upward, and he allows himself a breath to admire the beauty offered to him. Lust-darkened soulful eyes, framed by lush, black lashes hold him in thrall until soft lips part in silent invitation. His head dips to taste them, to feel their warmth and reassurance, and Edward's hand captures his face, holding him close.

Carlisle shifts and they slide back against the cushions, locked together in passion. Edward is so overjoyed to be in his lover's arms that he almost doesn't notice the hint of reticence in the embrace. Breaking the kiss, his lips remain only a whisper away and he can still feel their heat.

"What is it?"

Carlisle struggles to find words to explain his discomfort. He wants nothing more than to make Edward his, to claim him as they have both fantasised, but daylight is so open, so public without the anonymous blanket of night to envelop them in its embrace. How can he explain that he wishes the room could become that intimate hotel room, bringing with it the anonymity to let himself be what Edward deserves? Indeed, he barely understands it himself.

Meeting his concerned gaze, Carlisle tries to enunciate his need.

"Could we close the drapes?"

Edward looks confused for a moment.

"No one can see us, I promise."

"It's not that. I just want... I just need this to be about us, just us. I don't need to see the world outside."

He shakes his head, disgusted with himself for breaking the moment, yet is relieved when Edward climbs off the sofa and pulls the drapes, shutting out the afternoon sun and muffling the noise from the street. For a long moment Edward watches Carlisle before sliding down the cushions until his face hovers over his lover's. In a whisper, soft as feathers, he murmurs:

"You're safe here with me, I won't let anyone hurt you. Trust me."

His lips seek out Carlisle's then, claiming them, his hands burying themselves in thick blond hair to hold him close. For Carlisle, it is all he can do not to choke on the lump in his throat at Edward's impassioned declaration.

They lie together, kissing and touching, revelling in rediscovery. There is no need to rush for now they have time to spare; this time both will be spared the pain of separation once the carnal act is over. When the sun rises they will wake together, able to talk and eat breakfast, and maybe return to the land of pleasure once again until they are too drunk on each other to move.

When Edward sits back on his heels, he holds out his hand and watches Carlisle lace their fingers together. The words Carlisle so badly wanted to hear finally fall from Edward's swollen lips, his velvety voice husky with arousal.

"Come to bed with me?"

His own voice shakes.

"Yes; God, yes."

~o.O.o~

Edward takes the lead, closing the door once they are both inside his bedroom. Releasing Carlisle's hand, he closes the heavier drapes in the small room, necessary for him to be able to sleep during the day. In an instant the room is darker, intimate, and Carlisle feels his worries melt away; his gaze fixates on Edward's every move. He watches him as he bends down to open a drawer, the movement slow and deliberate, presenting himself to his lover. Finding the lube and condoms, he closes the drawer in a quiet, smooth motion, turning back to face Carlisle.

"I'm all yours, however you want me."

Carlisle steps forward, his body remembering this, this phenomenal craving for Edward.

"I need to see you. All of you."

Edward inhales sharply, feeling his heart speed up. His fingers find buttons and zippers, clumsy and slow in their haste to please. Without inhibition, he sheds his clothing, baring himself to the object of his desires. When he stands in only underwear, an obscene bulge straining the fabric, Carlisle almost loses his mind. Reaching out, Carlisle's hands stroke smooth shoulders and firm muscular arms before skating across his chest, watching the flesh quiver and jump under his fingers. When they dip lower, teasing the skin above the elastic band of his underwear, Edward moans, a powerful sound that ignites Carlisle's lust into a roaring inferno.

Pulling off his shirt, he throws it to the floor, almost tearing his pants in his haste to get out of the constricting clothing. His underwear joins the rest in a heartbeat, enabling Edward to feast his eyes on what his own body desires. Before he can ask, before he can beg for Carlisle to take him now, please now, Carlisle falls to his knees before him, stroking his hardness through the dampened fabric. He watches for a moment until nimble fingers bare his aching flesh to the air; when a warm mouth captures the swollen head his eyes drift closed. The gentle, teasing suction is heavenly, as is the warm hand cupping and squeezing his tight globes, sending waves of perfect pleasure through his body. His legs begin to tremble and Carlisle looks up at Edward's face, a magnificent masterpiece of desire. Rising to his feet, he captures Edward's bitten lips in a searing kiss and together they fall onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs. When they part for air, Edward's words send the blood coursing through Carlisle's veins.

"I can't wait any longer. I need you; make me yours, Carlisle."

Darkened eyes plead with him and he nuzzles Edward's throat before answering.

"Let me see."

Edward's breath catches and he rolls over, pushing his firm cheeks upward to display himself. Carlisle's hands stroke the smooth mounds surrounding the most delicate pale pink furl he could have imagined. He leans in and touches the tip of his tongue to the centre, hearing Edward's mewl of pleasure; after that he begins working on that tight entrance. His tongue flickers and dances until he breaches the muscle and slips inside. The low drawn out moan he hears drives his own body to fever pitch.

Carlisle reaches for the condom lying ready on the table and smoothes it down his length before adding generous amounts of lube. His slippery fingers now replace his talented tongue, and Edward is pushing back in encouragement, gasping and moaning at each gentle entry. When Carlisle is certain he is readied, he withdraws his fingers, smoothing the pads reverently around the loosened rose. His voice is unsteady.

"Our first time can't be like this; I have to see you."

Edward shuffles until he is on his back, looking up at Carlisle. He spreads his legs in an open invitation, his skin flushed with arousal, and waits for the moment he has dreamed of. When Carlisle prepares to mount him, he holds Edward's legs wide, pressing into the willing flesh so ready to receive him. Eyes locked, he slides into Edward's welcoming warmth and sees the flush of pleasure bloom under his skin. To Carlisle's joy, Edward's tight body takes him without difficulty.

"Incredible." He can't contain the awe in his voice as he gazes into green pools clouded with pleasure. "Are you ready for more?"

"Go slow; you're a little bigger than what I'm used to."

Carlisle feels the blood leave his face.

"You've been seeing someone?"

Edward sees the panic and realises too late his mistake. He shakes his head and strokes Carlisle's anguished face, his voice cracking.

"No, no! I-I wanted to be ready for you so after that first phone call I bought myself a toy. I couldn't bear it if I was a disappointment to you – I wanted it to be perfect."

The breath leaves Carlisle in a heavy sigh and he begins to realise just how much Edward has come to mean to him in such a short time.

"I'm so sorry. I-I..."

"Carlisle, I'm yours. Only yours. There's no one else." He leans forward and caresses down the defined musculature to where they are joined. "Show me you want me too."

What follows is a melody of gasps and moans, interspersed with drugging kisses and pleas of 'more', 'harder' and 'please'; the sounds of their pleasure rising in volume, enveloping them in a magical space where only they two can co exist in endless pleasure. Edward's hand strays to his straining flesh and Carlisle sees the tortured intensity of approaching ecstasy on that beautiful face, knowing that he alone holds the key. Edward's body is on the cusp, barely hanging on, waiting, just waiting... and Carlisle has but to dip his head to give him what he needs, what his pleasure overloaded body craves. Leaning in, he mouths and bites a swollen nub and a wail of joy bursts from Edward's throat, his body convulsing, his pleasure erupting from him with a helpless cry of adulation.

His tightening, spasming body grips Carlisle in a velvet vice and with a muted cry he fills Edward with his tribute, his body exploding over and over until he has nothing more to give.

He collapses alongside him, groggy and sated from their emotional coupling. Edward's arm lies across his chest, his face nuzzling contentedly into Carlisle's neck. He feels total peace, the dark restless shadows chased from his eyes by the magic of Edward's touch.

But he knows that they will doubtless return; this peace may be short lived.