This is the last chapter! Thank you all for sticking with the story, for the follows and comments!
Special thanks to Lou and Sally who helped so, so much!
Chapter 4
Isle Esme had its local population. It took Edward two years to find it out.
Somehow, Carlisle had restricted the local folks from approaching the estate and had dissuaded the boys from going on long walks. "Out there, there are only vast jungles," he'd said. "Nothing of interest apart from dangerous species of animals. You wouldn't want to be bitten by … well, any of them." So they didn't venture too far away from the house. They enjoyed the warm waters of the ocean, the sparkling sand, the sun, the breeze. They had the garden where they planted vegetables and herbs. They had the gym where even Edward liked to spend hours. They had TV, games, booze. At night, the house was their safe haven, so not like jail, so not like their second prison. They knew they were being occasionally filmed again, but that was okay. "For recreational purposes," Carlisle had explained. "When we grow old, we're going to watch and try to masturbate with trembling hands, remembering our glorious youth. Or, more precisely, your youth and my golden middle age." They'd laughed.
One day, Edward got lost. He'd gone a bit too far down the beach, looking for a little private space—to pee. Then he spotted movement under the palm trees and curiosity got the better of him. He followed a path which started from the sands and snaked from beneath the sparse first lines of trees into the thicker forest. He heard steps, he spotted the branches and leaves still shaking after being disturbed by someone or something at least five feet tall. Should be a man, at this height, he thought. And it was a man; he saw him at last, a breathtakingly handsome local with long hair, bronze skin, and a warrior posture, standing not three feet away, finally frozen in his spot. Naked, apart from a pair of rugged shorts around his groin and butt.
"Hi there." Edward attempted to start a conversation.
The bronze-skinned man shrugged, pursed his lips, and ran away. Edward didn't find it in him to follow. He returned to the beach where Carlisle was sunbathing.
"We're not alone on the island," he said, a trace of acid in his tone. "And, of course, you knew, sir. And ... we've been so stupid, going around naked and doing whatnot for two fucking years now. How many people have been watching us? Sir?"
Carlisle removed his sunglasses and kept quiet for long seconds, staring into the ocean where two wet, tanned, sculpted backs splayed the waters and reflected the sun so beautifully. The two figures dove, and shiny, muscled naked buttocks flashed momentously on display, then disappeared under the tiny waves. Edward pointed at Emmett and Jasper, who had just reappeared from the dive, and closed his eyes; he didn't want to see if Jasper was going to approach Emmett as usual, dive again and suck him underwater for as long as he could hold his breath, and resurface, kiss, bite, and stick a finger into his giggling lover's ass. "Are we a fucking show again, sir?"
"You never asked," Carlisle spoke at last.
That night, they had a huge fight for the first time after Edward had told the others about his revelation. It had been hours of seeing the boys sulk, and Carlisle knew their good times on the island were over. They'd finally got, as expected, bored, dissatisfied, sour.
Later that night, he signaled his connections in Rio that the fake documents were required.
"We're moving to the States," he announced the next morning. "The day after tomorrow. Get your stuff ready."
Edward yelped.
"But—"
"No buts, boy. My decision is final. We're getting new lives. Two years here is more than enough."
"Quite right, Doc," Emmett intervened, his voice booming with enthusiasm more than his usual. "Will we have professions at last? I'm a bit sick of being a gardener and a nude savage. My man here may like to see me in a suit, huh?" He reached with his arm and wrapped Jasper's shoulders in his huge, bear-like embrace. "Maybe a pair of glasses on my nose; I could be an accountant or something."
"Oh, Em." Jasper shook his head and pecked a kiss on the broad shoulder plastered to his right cheek. "I'll be the accountant. You have to be a construction worker, come back home to us sweaty and dirty with your muscles pumped out. I could push you under the shower and shampoo your sticky hair and lather your body with thick foam up into every hidden orifice, every day." He pecked another kiss to the same shoulder.
"Uh, right, let's just make it a fitness instructor and forget about the dirt, 'kay?"
Carlisle listened to the exchange and nodded several times, quietly.
"You'll apply for any jobs you like. You've got identities with a clear past and decent education too. Ah, and also, I've got a separate house for you two, and one for me and Edward in the same neighborhood."
And it sounded great. During the past months, they'd become two distinct couples, which to all of them had started to seem logical. Only Carlisle was able to take proper care of Edward's special needs. Jasper could be a replacement, playing Master for an hour or two, but not always, not all the time. Edward wanted it, though; wanted it badly—to be under someone's command, to be treated like the Boy all the time. Jasper couldn't do that. Emmett was even slightly appalled by the idea. So, Carlisle had taken the position of a full-time dominant, and not unwillingly. Of course, those two would share a house.
Emmett and Jasper had fallen into a routine. They ate together, slept together, fucked like rabbits, fucked leisurely, fucked with passion, and, occasionally, fucked tenderly, which was as close as possible to making love. Until, one day, under the beautiful skies of Isle Esme, Emmett confessed to Jasper that he loved him. Since then, it was making love, with rare, rough, pleasantly shattering exceptions. Carlisle often saw them bickering over insignificant stuff, resembling a real family, almost reaching the point of spitting in each other's faces, holding hands after and looking into magnetically attracted sets of glazed eyes, with tears brimming and love radiating blindingly.
They all boarded the chopper on the third day. None of them had a lot of baggage.
They had less than three months of peaceful lives in their new places. Two months and twenty-four days later, Carlisle got hit by a car on a rainy night. The driver had been sober, but inexperienced, lost control of the vehicle, and made a wrong turn. The slippery tires had crushed both Carlisle's legs against the asphalt, smashing bones and tissues into a deformed mess. Even the greatest of specialists couldn't do a fucking thing about it.
"Sir, please, Sir," Edward was pleading and Carlisle was annoyed. It was the first few hours after he had returned from the hospital. He was having hard times with the blasted wheelchair. He'd bumped against every protruding object in the hallway, then the living area and the bathroom. He wanted to pee, badly. Blood filled his mouth, and he realized he'd bitten his lip on the inside. "Let me help you, Sir," the boy kept insisting.
"Get out, Edward," Carlisle commanded. Edward obeyed, mumbling under his nose. He shut the bathroom door with a kick, leaving Carlisle alone with his biological needs.
Carlisle reached for the sink and grabbed at the cool porcelain. That helped, the wheelchair moved in the desired direction, and he managed to approach the toilet seat near enough. There were not more than ten inches from his nether parts to the aim. He unzipped his trousers and took out his cock, grabbed hold of it, and tried to lean a bit closer for an even better aim. Then he saw it clearly, he was actually going to pee all over himself before sending a streak down the toilet, if he tried it that way. He had to move his own body weight to the goddamned seat to pee, sitting, like a goddamned woman. Shit! But needs were needs; he swallowed his pride, shifted uncomfortably his bits out of his clothing, strained his muscles, and made the almost impossible move, sat on the toilet, and began to relieve his bladder. Then the hand that used the wall for leverage gave up and slipped, and he fell. Slouched between the toilet seat and the fucking deceptive wall tiles, pants around his hips and cock on display. The liquid was still leaking, over his clothes, over his last remains of self-esteem.
He didn't call for help. Edward found him, nevertheless, several minutes later. Of course, the boy would enter the bathroom after the suspiciously long time it took. The look of pity in those gentle eyes was Carlisle's defeat.
He was held in loving hands, brought to a comfortable seat, redressed, tucked under a blanket. He didn't utter a word. He ate what he was served, he drank some milk. His mind was working a thousand miles an hour. All that time later, he had reached the conclusion.
When he spoke for the first time after his … bathroom incident … he was absolutely sure. Determined. He gave one order and gave it in a firm voice.
"I want you to pack and leave first thing in the morning. Go stay at Jasper's until I arrange a new life for you. I don't need you here anymore."
Edward moved to New York. It took him years of random and not-so-random relationships to get to the right circles, but he managed to find himself a proper Dom, at last. Their arrangements were a little bizarre, but they worked just fine. Edward was protected, if not loved; he wasn't owned, but he received the necessary treatment. They didn't live together, but the Dom paid for Edward's nice condo, for any whim of supplies, for trips and vacations. Edward didn't feel like a gigolo, not most of the time.
Sometimes, at nights, when he was alone in his bed, he cried a little.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, could heal the gaping hole in his chest, the place where his real Master's existence had been extorted. He called Jasper and Emmett on the phone every other week, or, as years passed, every month, to enquire about Carlisle's health and state of mind. There was that nurse, Rosalie, who settled to live in their house at the beginning, and then, nothing new happened. The calls repeated the same scenario, he's bad, he doesn't visit, he doesn't want us to visit, Rose takes care of him, no, he doesn't mention your name.
More years passed. Emmett's social media updates showcased the silver in his hair, the slouch in Jasper's shoulders, the first signs of the beginning of the autumn of their lives. Edward was suddenly afraid that one of them was going to die.
"I want you to do something for me, Jasper," he said over the phone one day. "Tell Carlisle I'm coming to visit. Tell him I'll die if I don't see him."
"Will you?" Jasper asked.
"What?"
"Die. Will you die if you don't see him?"
"No. Okay. Just tell him I'm desperate to see him one more time."
So, the arrangement was a fact.
"God, we missed you," Emmett was telling him; Emmett kissed him, Jasper kissed him too, then Carlisle and Rosalie came, and it was all a carousel, a whirlwind—Carlisle's cock, Jasper's ass, sex, more sex, abundant perfectness.
Edward was in a haze.
"Is anyone going to address the huge pink elephant in the room now?"
Trust Emmett to ruin it all.
"No, I'm leaving," Edward said. He jumped to his feet and went for his clothes, still huffing loudly and coming down from his high. "I … I don't know what I was thinking when I initiated this meeting."
The wheelchair wheezed somewhere behind his back. He stood still, half-dressed, and gulped. A hand snatched his wrist.
"Look at me."
For some reason, he was incapable of moving, of turning his eyes to Carlisle. This had been so, so stupid. Spreading salt over an open wound. Adding fuel to a raging fire. Spiking a dagger into a bleeding heart. He'd done it all to himself.
"Boy."
He couldn't resist that voice, though. He turned around, at last.
"Sir." His knees gave up under their own volition. "Thank you for allowing me this one night. I can disappear from your life again."
Carlisle just stared at him. Somewhere in the background, Emmett coughed.
"Don't you want me to go now, Sir?"
Carlisle's hand reached out. It landed on Edward's cheek. A thumb stroked the protruding chin. Then the lower lip. His other hand ended up buried in Edward's hair.
Finally, a sound came from Carlisle's throat. Somewhere between a choking laughter and a wail, between hope and despair, between want and refusal, Carlisle wished to find his equilibrium and found himself incapable of making a decision.
The doorbell rang.
Jasper dressed in a rush and went to answer.
Everyone hurried to make themselves presentable.
Rosalie's voice sounded, hushed and stuttering.
Heels drummed, and she came closer.
"Carlisle, I apologize. I was a little theatrical. Let me take you home now."
She stood there, hands in her pockets.
Carlisle looked at her, his head tilted to the side.
"Apology accepted. You should've known by now that he obeyed my order when he left. Don't make me regret my honesty with you in the future." He used his hands to make a half-turn of the chair. "You're free for the night. Go visit your sister." She still stood there, unmoving. "Please," he added, softly.
A long, incredulous look and a loud huff later, Rosalie turned on her heels and left with a barked, "See you tomorrow."
"Come, Boy," Carlisle said after the door was closed behind the nurse. "Let's see how good you can be at steering this goddamned chair through the streets."
There were smiles on Jasper and Emmett's faces, of course. There was also the bewilderment in Edward's eyes. Carlisle took a moment to bask in his powers to surprise them once more.
"I missed you, Edward. Take me home."
Edward didn't wait a moment longer. He stood up, got hold of the two handlebars, and pushed.
The End
