Rescue Me - Christmas Outtake

So, I know I always said that this was a one shot, but when I was approached to write for the Toys for Tots fandom fundraiser, it was suggested that I write a future-take of the boys.

I hope you enjoy their continued adventure. There may be more to follow at some point if the mood strikes me (and if a certain reader gets her way for more Rocksper).

Thanks to my pre readers, Jasper1863Hale, my beta, mxpi1970, and everyone who donated to Toys for Tots.

~xxXxx~

Emmett’s POV

I wiped my hands on a dirty rag and closed the hood, my last oil change finished. It was dark out and seriously cold; I was glad this last job was on my own truck and I could get straight home without having to wait for customer pickup.

The radio announcer had said we were getting more snow tonight and I wondered if I should really be venturing out. I didn’t particularly want to spend Christmas Eve in the truck in a parking lot somewhere. Then again, I had the chains in the back and I’d yet to be in weather bad enough to be stranded.

I felt a little nervous about tonight which was stupid, all things considered. I briefly considered not going, just staying in and watching reruns of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’, wishing I wasn’t alone for yet another Christmas. I’d had a couple of invitations extended to me by friends and I knew they meant well; I just didn’t feel able to keep up the happy bachelor facade for an entire day in mixed company.

Ever since Jasper had left, I had found myself wishing I had taken his number. We had enjoyed each other’s company for two days, each knowing our time together was limited. It was obvious to me at the time that his star was on the rise, and staying put wasn’t an option for him. So we parted with no numbers or promises, only the gratitude of having found each other at all.

I locked up and drove home. Shrugging off my overalls, I scrubbed the grease from under my nails before I climbed into the shower, turning up the temperature to loosen off my shoulders after hunching over engines all afternoon. I tried to control my breathing as visions of Jasper played beneath my closed lids. Shaking my head to clear it, I squirted shower gel into my hands and allowed the fragrance to soothe my overactive mind. Washing myself down briskly, I turned the water to cold before climbing out and towelling off. Dressing in jeans, boots and my favourite lavender shirt, I pulled on my thick winter coat and headed back out to the truck.

~xxXxx~

Pulling up outside the venue, I looked at the crowds milling around, all having a last smoke or merely waiting for friends before going in. I drove on, looking for parking, finally finding a spot a short walk down the block.

The board outside proclaimed ‘The Confederates’ in large letters and I nervously fingered the ticket in my pocket. I had seen the announcement weeks back; Jasper’s face had smouldered out at me from the poster and I’d found myself in the booking office handing over money, hardly realising what I was doing.

Why was I putting myself through this? It was an inelegant form of torture, especially as I would be just one face amongst many, the place awash with fans.

I almost turned back. This was foolish; he wouldn’t want to see me. I was just some guy who got him running again after a rough night on the road. I smiled, remembering his words. I wondered if he made a habit of sleeping with strangers, if I was just one in a long line of conquests. He hadn’t seemed the type, but I was no expert. I rarely had the opportunity to date; working all hours to survive in a small town was my life. I had had a brief encounter a year ago with Peter, a customer I had forged a friendship with. We saw each other on and off for a few weeks until I found out he had a wife back in Mississippi. I was his guilty pleasure whilst away from home, and I hated how used that made me feel.

Meeting Jasper had been so unexpected. This time no promises were made, no words of intention exchanged. We had enjoyed each other to the full, each taking what we needed before setting the other free when the time came.

But I couldn’t forget. Seeing his face on that poster had brought it all catapulting back and I knew I had to see him again, even if he never knew I was there. Making my way through the throng, I went inside. There was no seating and so I held back, making sure I was hidden amongst the excitable throng. The room filled quickly as I nursed my beer, feeling nervous about seeing him again. Twice I almost left; the second time that I turned for the door the lights dimmed, and I slowly turned, my eyes finding the darkened stage.

The throaty growl of a guitar pierced the thick fog of anticipation. The crowd roared their enthusiasm as the stage exploded with light, the band in their places, instruments poised. Then, in a thunder of bass, the performance began.

Jasper looked jubilant, a sexy snarl curling his lip as he ground out the dirty rhythm seeping into my bones; it was pure, unadulterated sex. I watched him, a true showman, playing up to his baying fans. The other Confederates were dancing, spinning round with their guitars, fingering suggestively as their bodies pumped to the beat.

Jasper ducked and writhed, raking his fingers through his hair as the others took their turn centre stage. He was wearing tight red leather pants and a black leather waistcoat that showed off his body to perfection; I swallowed thickly when he grabbed the mic stand and started to sing, his deep voice tinged with a roughness that resonated deep within my chest. The girls in the audience screamed their approval and, as I watched, he sank to his knees just out of reach of the grasping hands, desperate for any piece of him they could reach. His head thrown back, he gyrated to the rhythm while singing the evocative lyrics to the howling mob.

My eyes drank him in, trying to fix the image of his beautiful face in my memory. His slight drawl was more pronounced when he sang, and women were shrieking his name. He threw them an easy, crooked grin in response and I watched them almost hyperventilate. I wondered if he liked women too; it wasn’t something we had talked about. As the song changed, the crowd started to cheer as a heavy beat vibrated through my body, my heart thrumming in time.

Watching him in his natural environment, I realised just how far he had come, and just how out of reach he truly was. He owned that stage, and every member of that audience.

Including me.

I wanted to leave then, to run from what could have been, but I was pinned in place by dirty blond hair and dazzling green eyes. I knew I had to go before the end, slip away into the night and ensure he was none the wiser about my crazy need to see him one more time. Hell, why did I think he’d even care? I was old news and probably forgotten and replaced; a fleeting memory on the road to stardom. But I wanted to watch him, the way his fingers caressed the neck of his guitar, remembering them on my skin. I shivered at the memory, my traitorous body wanting those fingers on me again.

I held my beer, the alcohol having not even passed my lips. My attention focused on Jasper; he adored the spotlight judging by the winks he threw out to the front row. His tongue poked suggestively between his teeth as he lost himself in his music, the way he held his guitar making it seem an extension of him. I was sweating and not because of the heat. Jasper’s sinuous writhing had awoken my body and left it aching for more.

This was a bad idea. In fact, it was one of the stupidest I’d had in a long time. I had awakened feelings better off buried, and for what? I would go home alone, unable to reconnect with the man who set my body aflame.

As the pulsing music faded to a close, I looked at my watch, stunned at how fast the time had gone. I had been in a trance for the majority of it, drunk on Jasper lust.

He bowed, waved, and they left the stage to roars and stamping feet. Caught in the crowd, I edged my way outside on shaky legs, breathing in the frosty air. While I had been inside, the snow had fallen heavy, the city silent and beautiful, all shrouded in white. The snow crunched under my boots, my footfalls muffled to a steady creak. Hunching my shoulders against the blizzard, my hands burrowed into my pockets as I made my way back to my truck, anticipating an interesting drive home. Seeing the side road ahead, I had just turned the corner when I heard faint cursing. Spinning round, I saw nothing and no one. Then I heard it again, the sound deadened by the snow, and I headed down a darkened road in search of the source.

As I walked, the muttered expletives grew louder and I approached cautiously to see if I could help. In the dark I could only make out a small spot of light from a torch, and the shadow of a figure bent over under an open hood. Drawing closer, I smiled as I heard the expletives turn to cajoling as the stranger tried to entice life into the truck.

And then I knew.

“Is the old girl playing you up again?”

He stood up too quickly and banged his head on the raised hood, more curses raining down. I winced.

“Sorry – didn’t mean to startle you. Can I help?”

He turned then, and I suddenly wondered just how welcome my presence might be. Squinting up at me, he didn’t answer for a moment.

“Thanks for stopping, but this really isn’t a great time for autographs. I’m tryin’ to get home for the holidays and my truck won’t start.”

“Jasper, it’s me... Emmett. Remember?”

The torchlight flickered over me until it reached my face. I flinched when it dazzled me, and he lowered it quickly. He sounded surprised, his eyes wide, his voice a little breathless, no doubt from all the cursing.

“Emmett? It’s really you?”

His face was animated in the low light, and I hoped that he was pleased to see me, and not just Emmett the mechanic, saviour of the stranded motorist.

“If she isn’t playing ball, can I give you a lift anywhere? I can come back and tow her back to mine for repairs. It’s no bother.”

“My flight leaves in an hour. I need to get home – my family’s expectin’ me for Christmas. I’ve got my bags and stuff in the back.”

The blizzard was worsening and we both looked as though we were covered in goose down.

“Give me a couple of minutes – I’ll go fetch my truck. Get inside out of the snow before you freeze.”

I hurried as fast as the conditions allowed, slipping and sliding my way back to my own ride. Turning the key, I heard the comforting rumble of the diesel engine; turning on the heater, I turned around and headed back to Jasper.

The road to the airport was a little precarious, the temperature dropping still lower as the weather intensified. Concentrating on the road, I was acutely aware of Jasper next to me. I turned up the heater and Jasper finally warmed up enough to stop his teeth chattering. We hardly spoke, the steady swish of the wipers our only accompaniment.

When he broke the silence, I started. I felt him smile and then heard it in his voice.

“You’re sure you’re okay to get my truck back? I planned to leave her in long term parking at the airport til New Year’s; I only brought her in the first place as the guys were drivin’ home straight from the gig and the airport’s in the other direction.”

“I’ll tow her back to the shop and get her running again. I’ve got the towing bar with me. She can stay round the back of my place til you come fetch her. When’ll that be?”

I risked a glance and saw his eyes shine in the reflected light of the dash.

“I’ll be back in less than a week. Me and the guys, we’ve got more gigs at the start of the year, and we gotta rehearse.”

“I thought you sounded good.” Too late, I realised my mistake.

“You were there?” He sounded genuinely surprised. I wondered if that was a good thing.

“Uh, yeah. I thought I’d come check you guys out; I’ve heard good things about the band.”

Glancing sideways again, I saw him looking down, his hair hiding his expression from me.

“So, you thought we did okay?” So help me, he sounded nervous; of what, I had no idea.

“Like I said, you guys were good. You sounded so professional; I’m amazed you haven’t been signed yet.”

“There’s meant to be a talent scout at the next gig after the holidays. Here’s hopin’ that it’s our turn.”

“The Confederates will rise to glory!” I laughed. “You must be psyched. It’s what you dreamed of, isn’t it – being discovered, making it big.”

“I guess.” He sounded tired; out of the corner of my eye I saw him scrub his eyes with his knuckles and push back his unruly hair. “I should ring the airport and check on my flight.”

“Good idea.”

Watching him wrestle the phone from his pocket, I marvelled at my own composure in this unexpected circumstance. My hands threatened to shake and I tightened my grip on the wheel. He dialled, and after a pause I heard him ask the helpdesk if his flight was on time. His face fell as he thanked the person for their help and disconnected, the phone falling into his lap.

“Delayed?”

He let out a mocking half-laugh.

“Flight’s grounded. Until the weather picks up there’ll be no more flights leavin’. Looks like I don’t get to see my folks after all.” He sounded choked and I felt sick for him. “It’s too late to get home tonight. Can you take me to a motel, somewhere I can shower and crash? Hopefully they’ll have vacancies over the holidays. I better call my folks and break it to them.”

My mind whirled. I could take him to the Motel 6, it wasn’t far from here, but to spend the holidays alone away from his family was harsh. I heard him dial and then warmth flooded his voice.

“Mom? It’s Jas. Bad news; we got heavy snow here and my flight’s grounded.”

I could faintly hear the voice on the other end, and knew that they would likely be devastated he wasn’t coming home. I tried not to listen as he talked, a near impossibility given his proximity, but I hated intruding. The end of his conversation decided me.

“I’ll book into somewhere, mom. It’ll be fine. I’m not going home tonight anyway; the truck’s decided she doesn’t like the cold. The engine’s deader than Dickinson on Super Bowl Sunday. Yeah, I know someone who can fix her; he’s worked miracles before. Yeah, I know. I love you too, mom. Love to dad and Alice. Hopefully see you soon. We’re plannin’ on comin’ out there in March I think. Okay; Merry Christmas, I love you. Bye.”

He slumped back in his seat, utterly defeated. I cleared my throat.

“You don’t need a motel, you know. I have room at my place if you remember.”

He turned toward me and I inwardly cringed, thinking I had said the wrong thing. I didn’t want him to think I was throwing him a cheesy pick up line. However, his hopeful tone was a surprise.

“You’d let me stay? Are you sure? It’s the holidays and all...”

“All the more reason. Stores are closed now, and I’ve got food and beer at home; is there a better option? And if you don’t want to be a burden, you can always sleep in your truck.”

I glanced at him and grinned. For the first time since I found him in the snow, he looked something close to happy.

“Sure wouldn’t be the first time I’d slept with my girl,” he drawled, and winked at me.

In the dark, I felt my jeans tighten involuntarily.

~xxXxx~

The trip home was slow and steady as I negotiated my way through the whiteout, towing Jasper’s truck. I was relieved when I finally turned into my yard and switched off the engine. But, now that we were here, I felt a little awkward.

Jasper turned to me, his hand on the door.

“Thanks for this. I’m grateful, really.”

I smiled as I opened the door and jumped out, heading inside. He was a few steps behind, carrying his luggage. He dropped it just inside the door and stood, somewhat awkwardly, as if waiting for an invite to the room.

“Make yourself comfortable.” I waved vaguely at the couch before gesturing to his bags. “Want me to take those and you can grab a shower? It’ll help warm you up.”

“Sure. That sounds really good. Uhm, shall I ...?” He pointed towards the bathroom.

I nodded wordlessly, moving to the side to allow him to pass. I heard him turn on the water, the sound of boots being kicked off and the chink of his belt as he peeled off his jeans. My heart was pounding; hearing the jangle of the shower curtain being pulled into place only served to inflame my imagination. I turned on the spot, trying to decide what to do and coming up with nothing helpful. With relief I remembered the bags, and carried them into the spare room, dropping them on the bed. I was taking nothing for granted here; fate had brought us together that first time, but I couldn’t believe I could be that lucky twice. Forcing myself away, I headed back into the lounge and turned on the television. Sure enough, the movie had just started, and Clarence was introducing himself to George Bailey. I snagged a couple of beers from the fridge and threw myself down on the couch to watch. But, despite the beer and the movie distraction, every fibre of me was tuned to the sounds in the bathroom.

When the door clicked open, steam escaped into the hallway. Jasper appeared, wearing just his jeans, a towel slung around his shoulders.

“Uhm... spare room?”

“Oh yeah, it’s at the end of the hall. I put your bags in there for you.”

His grin, combined with his damp, floppy hair, was a lethal combination, and I struggled to keep my eyes away from his abs, on full display as he towelled his hair. He sauntered off, and I inwardly cursed my wayward erection, straining to get to Jasper. I shifted uncomfortably.

He reappeared a few moments later wearing an old, comfy looking, red flannel shirt, untucked and casual. Shuffling up a little, I made room for him on the couch and pointed to his beer with my own bottle.

We drank for a while, watching the movie in companionable silence until, without turning his head, he posed a question that left me struggling for air.

“Emmett, if an angel offered you the chance to make a change in your life, redo somethin’ differently, what would it be?”

I felt like my throat was closing up.

Not let you go.

“I don’t know; guess I never thought about it. What about you? Would you choose a more reliable truck?”

My attempt at humour raised the faintest smile on his face before fading away like mist.

“I guess I could. Then I wouldn’t need to be rescued so often.” He faced resolutely forward, not meeting my gaze. “Course, if it weren’t for my cranky old girl out there, we’d never have met.”

His soft chuckle came as a surprise; my heart pounded painfully as he carried on talking.

“I just wanted to get home that night, you know, but she had her own ideas, I guess. And tonight, she does it again, breakin’ down and changin’ everythin’ I planned.”

“I know it sucks that you don’t get to be with your folks. I wish there was a way I could help, I really do. You might get a flight in a day or so, if the weather improves. You could still go see your family.”

“I’ll see them in a couple of months. It’s okay; I just miss them. My sister’s had a tough time and I wanted to give her a big brotherly hug and tell her everythin’ will work out. It’s stupid the things you miss.” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Emmett, when we met, I’d had a tough time too. I’d been though a bad breakup, and you comin’ along like you did seemed like such perfect timin’. I guess what I’m sayin’ is... I used you, and I’m sorry. The person I was that night... that wasn’t me. I just wanted to be someone else, someone who would never allow himself to get screwed over and dumped like trash.”

I stared at him, my erection subsiding under the cold blast of reality.

“Jasper... are you telling me that you’re sorry for what we did? That you wish it didn’t happen?”

I don’t want an apology – I don’t regret a moment.

“Don’t hate me. You saved me; I wouldn’t trade the time we spent together. I know we can’t go back, that it was just that one time, but, fuck, Emm – if I could change one thing it would be to have been honest with you from the start. I never meant to do that to you. Meetin’ you tonight has given me the chance to say I’m sorry and put things right. I just hope you can forgive me and that I’m still welcome here. If I’m not then I understand, and I’ll go find a motel for the night.”

He was babbling and I couldn’t watch him beat himself up when it was completely unnecessary. I pulled myself up, standing down my beer.

“You’re telling me you’re sorry for one of the best nights of my life? No, Jas. I won’t accept that. And as for it being a one-time thing... they’re your words, not mine.”

Fuck.

He looked at me then in disbelief, his green eyes meeting mine for the longest moment, and I knew I’d said too much. Well, I sure couldn’t take it back now.

He stood down his beer, and my mouth went dry at his hoarse whisper.

“You mean that?”

Before I could answer, his mouth found mine in a crash of lips and teeth as passion flared, bright and pure. I gasped, my body rejoicing at the feel of him, hardening for him even as my mind reeled. My hands tangled in his hair, crushing his face to mine. He was breathing hard when the kiss broke, his nose brushing mine; I was still holding his head when I pulled back to read his eyes.

I was horrified by a sudden realisation; did he felt obligated to do this because I asked him to stay here?

“We don’t have to do this, Jas, not if you don’t want to.”

His brow furrowed with confusion.

“I know, but I do want to, very much. Is that okay?”

I nodded, unable to reply. But, as I went to kiss him again, he pulled away from me.

“I need to ask you somethin’. That night... I was worried that I might have hurt you, and you didn’t want to tell me.” He bit his lip, watching me intently.

To my shame, I felt myself redden. His face fell.

“I did, didn’t I? Oh hell, Emmett. Why didn’t you say?” He moved away from me, fisting his hair in despair.

I reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at me. I saw the raw pain behind his eyes then.

“No! Jas, no! You didn’t hurt me, it was just...”

“What? Tell me, please...”

“I – I ...” I shook my head. “I don’t get the chance to date often. I’d fooled around with guys before but I’d always been too scared to go all out, you now? It was a big deal to me. But that night, when you ordered me to bend over the truck, I couldn’t say no; I didn’t want to say no.”

His eyes grew dark and predatory then, and in them I saw the Jas I had met that night. The way he had commanded me... I still fantasised about it, months later. He was so sure, so in control; he had turned me on to the point of pain. We hadn’t repeated the experience after that one time, but nonetheless, Jasper had found other ways of making my world spin.

His voice was husky. “I was your first?”

And only.

I nodded again.

“And now? Is there anyone now? I need to know.”

I wiped my top lip with a shaky hand.

“There’s no one.”

He pushed me back on the cushions, propping himself on his elbows over me. I could smell my shower gel on his heated skin and damp hair; reaching up to kiss him again, he pushed himself up just out of my reach. Confused, I tried again, but once more he moved out of the way. Then, when I had learned to stay still, he leaned in and ran the tip of his tongue up my throat, over my Adams apple, pausing to suck and kiss my chin, before kissing me hard, his tongue sliding along mine. I kissed him back with fervour, his breath scorching my skin.

My cock throbbed, crushed uncomfortably in my jeans. With trepidation, my hand skidded down the curve of his back, bunching the shirt until I felt warm skin under my fingertips. I splayed my hand across his spine, marvelling at the heat radiating from his body; with one last tongue flick, our lips parted and I stared up into dark green pools in which I could happily drown.

“You sure about this?” His drawl was a little thicker, whether from nerves or arousal, I couldn’t yet tell.

My chest was rising and falling quickly and I stumbled over the words in my nervousness.

“Y-yes, Jasper; please.”

He sat up on his knees and gave me a lopsided smile that would make angels weep.

“Your room or mine?”

I struggled to my feet, adjusting my erection. As I watched, Jasper popped the buttons on his shirt; I backed away slowly, leading him out the door and to my room. He followed me, peeling off his shirt in a slow strip and dropping it on my floor. In the uneven half-light from the plethora of Christmas lights in the street, I watched his hand loosen his belt and pop open his jeans, sliding down the zipper. I almost whined with lust when, maintaining eye contact, he slid them down and kicked them off. He wore nothing beneath, and stood proudly naked before me. His voice held an edge of authority that made my cock twitch.

“I want you naked, Emmett.”

I complied, unbuttoning my shirt and shrugging it off, letting it fall to the floor. My jeans and briefs followed with indecent haste and I pulled them off, finally standing naked before him. Running a finger down my chest and over my abs, he circled around behind me, stroking his hands over my bulging arms appreciatively. His touch ignited a fire deep in my gut and I caught his hands, stilling them in their caresses.

“No more teasing, Jas. I’ve fantasised about you for months and I can’t wait any longer.”

He sucked my earlobe for a moment, before nipping it. His hands cupped my ass.

“Get on the bed, then.”

I sat and swung my legs onto the mattress. He knelt, and then leaned over to my nightstand, finding the supplies that had lain untouched for months. I’d had no need for them since I only jerked off in the shower, collapsing into bed from sheer exhaustion most nights.

“How d’you want to do this?” His hand had slid south and was now slowly jerking my wood, sending shivers through my body. My erratic breaths were coming in time to his movements.

“You’re the one with all the experience, Mr Rock Star. Tell me how you want me and I’m yours.”

Releasing my cock, he crawled up my body and planted his elbows either side of my head. His lips ghosted mine, touching the tip of his tongue to my upper lip, making my chest heave like bellows. Then he kissed me in earnest and I forgot everything except the feel of his lips, the stroke of his tongue and the need that raged through my veins at his touch. Locked together, we rolled over and I pinned him to the pillow, my hands in his messy hair. I plundered his mouth, tasting his sweetness, unable to sate my need for him, his erection sliding against mine as I ground my hips into his.

Pushing me onto my side, he dragged his mouth away from mine and for a second I stared at his swollen, reddened lips thinking nothing had ever looked so perfect. Tracing patterns on my head with his fingertips, he brushed his nose against mine, dropping his gaze before speaking.

“I don’t want to hurt you again.”

I swallowed.

“Go slow.”

The air in the room was thick with longing. He licked his lip, his voice gruff.

“I will, sugar. As slow as you need.”

My breath caught when I heard the click of the lube bottle and I forced myself to relax. He saw the slight panic in my eyes and stilled for a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay. If you want me to stop, then I will. Don’t be scared.”

I nodded.

“This will be easier for you if you’re on your back, knees spread.”

I rolled over into the position he requested and waited. He squeezed some lube onto his fingers and touched them to my tightly puckered hole. I jumped at the coolness, but focused on Jasper, his green eyes gazing into mine as he pressed the tip of his finger inside, rotating gently as he watched my eyes for signs of discomfort. Shivers rippled through me when his finger was all the way in; I’d forgotten how this could feel. I hissed a little when he tried to add a second, feeling the stretch and trying not to flinch. With his other hand he squeezed more lube onto his questing fingers, aiding their steady journey into my valley.

“Emm, I’m going to try to add another finger. Relax as much as you can.”

I grimaced this time, the burning pain uncomfortable even with the cool lube. He stilled his hand, watching me.

“Is this too much? You need to tell me.”

I breathed deep, trying to relax my body. Jasper watched me before sliding his fingers free.

“I have a better idea.”

He lay down on his back next to me, reaching for a condom and ripping the packet open. He smoothed the latex down his substantial shaft and added plenty of lube.

“If you straddle my stomach, you can take this at your own pace.”

Pushing myself up, I carefully swung a leg across Jasper’s torso and he moved me into a comfortable position for him. I then felt two fingers slip inside me. Only this time he didn’t move them, instead encouraging me to slide down them, adjusting again to the sensation.

I lowered myself down and up, finding the position easier. I licked the sweat from my upper lip, looking at Jasper.

“Think we better try that third one again; I’ve seen the size of your dick, remember?”

I raised an eyebrow, and he laughed.

“Take your time, there’s no rush.”

I felt the extra intrusion at my entrance and forced out my breath as I took them all this time.

“Breathe, Emm.”

I realised my eyes were scrunched shut and forced them open. He looked amused, and reached up to smooth my frown lines. I couldn’t resist him any longer and captured his mouth, smirk and all, pulling him to me with a moan of surrender. He murmured against my lips:

“Are you ready for more?”

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and nodded. His fingers slipped from me and he motioned for me to wriggle back a little until I was level with his hard, heavily lubed cock. His voice was rough with sex.

“Don’t think about it, just look at me. Your body will do the rest; you want me as badly as I want you.”

I felt him at my hole and I sank down, fraction by fraction, feeling his hands under my ass.

“Stop if it hurts, sugar.”

I panted my way through it until I had taken almost all of him. When I stopped, he lent up to me and kissed me, his hands gliding up my body and back down.

“You’re doin’ so great. Remember - you’re in control. Do what feels good.”

Emboldened by his words, I started to ride him, slowly adjusting to his size and length. My body remembered this from before, and I felt the first flutters of pleasure start to build in my groin. I knew this must be hard for Jasper, not being to thrust and control the warm body he was using; I wanted him to feel good.

“Jas...”

I leaned forward, still joined, and he met me half way in a blistering kiss. I gasped out what I needed:

“Fuck me, please...”

His eyes darkened to almost jet black and I saw the flush of desire flood his face.

“Tell me if it’s too much...”

He lifted his hips a fraction before letting them drop again; the next movement had him slide deeper in and the breath left my lungs in an explosive gasp. My arms were braced on the bed as I held still, waiting for his next thrust... and the next... and the next...

I was crying out with each snap of his hips; my cock was painfully hard and leaking precome onto his stomach in a steady trickle. His calloused fingers trailed down my abs, over my thighs and, to my immense pleasure, my balls. The feel of his rough fingertips on my tender flesh almost made me lose concentration, but then he started to move his hips in a circular motion, his cock steadily rubbing my gland. I felt the familiar tightening, my arms shaking as Jasper’s movements grew more frantic. I lifted slightly to control the depth as he lost full control of his erratic thrusts.

Heat consumed me as the world paused... paused... and then I came all over Jasper in hot jets, eyes squeezed tightly shut, crying out my pleasure as the world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of colours.

I heard Jasper’s breathless, raspy gasps as he thrust up one last time and shuddered, his cock pulsing inside me. He fell back against the pillow, his hair damp over his forehead; his chest was heaving as he grinned up at me, tenderly sliding his cock out of my used body. I collapsed next to him, my thighs feeling like limp spaghetti from the unfamiliar position.

“That was fuckin’ incredible, sugar. Now, please tell me you’re okay? Tell me the truth.”

Sucking in a deep breath to ease my aching chest, I rolled onto my side to face him.

“That was amazing. Thank you for understanding.”

His crooked grin made my stomach flip.

“Merry Christmas, Emmett; I’m really glad my truck has a mind of her own.”

“So am I. Merry Christmas, Jas; best one ever.”

~xxXxx~

He left after breakfast on 26th. This time our goodbyes were more strained, and a part of me honestly believed he wanted to stay with me, if only for a few days more. I knew it was unlikely we would ever get this chance again; he was destined for fame and fortune and would be followed everywhere, his pictures appearing in all the magazines. I was grateful for the time we had had together, albeit far too brief. His truck had been fine when I checked her over; no repairs needed, just a flat battery from standing out in the snow.

It was a little over two months later, on a damp spring morning, when the Fed-Ex guy rang the doorbell. I signed for the packet he offered and closed the door with my foot. Ripping into the envelope, I shook out the contents; in my palm lay an all access tour pass, itinerary and an airplane ticket.

The note with them simply said:

“I’m not running right. I need you, Emmett. Please fix me.”

I didn’t hesitate.

~xxXxx~

Learning to Fly - Ch18

So I have this image in my head of Emmett checking the CCTV footage and finding out what happened after closing. I see him watching for a few seconds, confused as to what’s going on, and then, around the time that clothing starts coming off, slamming the laptop shut and rubbing his eyes, muttering ‘no no no no no.....’ *gigglesnort*

Thank you as always to my beta mxpi1970 and my pre reader and sounding board Jasper1863Hale – couldn’t do it without my girls!

As always, all characters created and owned by Stephenie Meyer.

~xxXxx~

CHAPTER 18

Edward’s POV

I felt sick.

Ejecting the disc from the player, I returned it to the case. I felt so embarrassed that I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

“So much for him never finding out about that. I’m so sorry, Carlisle, I didn’t know about the new security system. Unless he told me and I forgot, I...”

To my intense shock, I heard laughter.

“Oh, poor Emmett! I wonder how much he saw before...” he tailed off into chuckles once again, and I turned to stare at him in amazement before the corners of my mouth started to twitch too.

“Oh god, I thought he was weird on the phone this morning.” I groaned to myself, raking my fingers through my hair. “It’s late, I should call a cab.”

Reaching for the phone, I called the company I had used earlier. After a brief conversation, I hung up.

“They said fifteen minutes.”

As the words left my lips, Carlisle was on his feet, pulling me into a hug that I returned despondently. His fingers were in my hair, holding me close as he whispered in my ear.

“It’s way after midnight, my love; happy 21^st birthday.”

My arms tightened for a second before loosening so I could look at him.

“So do I look any different?” My smile played across my lips as I tried to be upbeat.

“You look delicious, and I want to drag you upstairs, pin you to the bed and do unspeakable things to you. But we only have about twelve minutes left, and I desire far more time with you than that. So, for tonight, I’ll settle for a kiss until I can have you all to myself again for the entire night.”

I leaned into him with a sigh of pleasure. My lips parting, I allowed him to claim my mouth as his, our tongues flirting with the expectation of more, unable to stop the inexorable hunger that consumed us. Trapped in passion’s tight snare, our hands gripped tighter, mouths locked together, our aroused bodies insistent as desperation built to a crescendo that could only lead to one conclusion.

He pulled back, his ragged gasps hot on my face as my lungs struggled for air.

“Stay...”

My heart thudded painfully, my forehead resting against his.

“I can’t.”

His lips pressed against mine forcefully for a moment, before he answered.

“I know.” His eyes closed as he held me tight. “Edward, you were talking earlier about going home, but you didn’t say ‘home’, you said ‘the apartment’. It’s the second time you’ve said that. Why? You don’t usually refer to it as that.”

“It’s because...” I hesitated, wanting to say it. Hell, I needed to say it. But I knew I risked changing everything.

He fixed me in place with eyes as dark as the ocean at midnight, and the words tumbled out.

‘It’s because of you. You always said ‘home’ when you talked about me moving back there. And it is, I mean it was, I mean...”

I shook my head and tried my hardest to speak calmly.

“It was what you said when we got home from the bar...”

He was watching me intently now.

“What did I say?”

Oh fuck.

“You asked me a question, and I realised it was what I wanted. But you haven’t mentioned it again, so I guess you don’t remember, and now I’ve made a total fool of myself.”

I was panicking and tried to pull away from him, but he held me in his arms.

“Tell me, Edward, please?”

Lost in his eyes, I took the leap.

“You asked me to stay forever. It was then that I realised my apartment isn’t ‘home’ to me anymore because you aren’t there.”

My voice had degenerated into a hoarse whisper.

“My home is wherever you are, Carlisle.”

I waited, fearful of gentle rejection. His voice was rough and emotional, his fingers caressing my jaw as he swallowed hard, a discernible shimmer in the darkness of his gaze.

“Then come home, Edward. Be with me always.”

~xxXxx~

I left shortly after, my heart full of elation and, paradoxically, heavy with sadness to have to leave him when we should have been celebrating our new lives together.

Sitting in the taxi, I thought of how happy Emmett would be at the news. That is, if he ever got over the DVD, of course. I grinned to myself. I would have to apologise, and tell him I was sorry. And then I thought of mom, and how I was going to have to break the news to her.

I was still thinking as I paid the driver and made my way inside, trying to be quiet. I knew it was fruitless; as I tried to sneak past to my room, her voice came from behind her slightly ajar bedroom door.

“Edward?”

“Yes mom?”

“Come and sit with me for a minute.”

I opened the door and perched on the edge of her bed.

“Are you okay, mom? You left so early.”

“I wanted to meet your friends, and Doctor Cullen. But let’s face it, you didn’t need your mother hanging around and cramping your style at your party. How did the karaoke go? Emmett told me about that.”

I smiled, laughing quietly at her expression.

“It was really good. Everyone sang – well, nearly everyone. You know Emmett! Very few escape the microphone when he’s in charge! “

She smiled a fond smile; I knew her soft spot for Emmett would never change.

“I told him to look after Rosalie, such a lovely girl; beautiful manners as well as looks. It’s about time he found himself a nice young lady – he deserves to be happy.”

She clasped my hands looking serious.

“And so do you, my darling. I can’t begin to understand your relationship with Carlisle, but from listening to Emmett and, strangely, his very sweet ex-wife, I can see that they both approve of you two. Esme just wants him to be happy, and Emmett wants the same for you.”

Her eyes dropped, but she held fast to my hands.

“He told me something tonight. He said that he didn’t think I’d be staying here again, at the apartment, I mean.”

My mouth dropped open. I had seriously underestimated my best friend; he was more perceptive than I gave him credit for. I remembered his comment to me in the bar, that moving home was what I said I wanted, and a smile spread across my face, unrestrained and telling.

She looked at me intently.

“Edward? What is it?”

“Emm was right. Carlisle asked me tonight to move in. He actually asked me once before, but, at the time, I didn’t think he was serious. Then tonight he asked me again and this time there was no doubt at all that he meant it.”

She was silent, watching me.

“I said yes, mom. I’ll be moving in as soon as I can. He’s all I want. I just love him.”

She squeezed my hands in support.

“If he makes you happy then go be with him. I’ll get past this in time. If you two are going to go the distance then I’ll have to get used to the idea. And I promise to try; I’ll get to know him and try not to give him a hard time. You have to understand that it’s a mother’s duty; we have this overwhelming urge to protect our children against the world, and anyone in it that we don’t deem good for them.” She sighed. “You’re 21 – a man now. It’s time to let go and let you make your own way in the world and hope you make the right choices. Just know that I love you – you’ll always be my baby boy.”

Misty eyed, I leaned in to kiss her and she hugged me fiercely.

“Happy birthday, my darling boy; go be with him tomorrow. I’ll take an earlier flight.”

I looked at her with some uncertainty.

“Are you sure? You’re welcome to stay as long as you want you know.”

“You don’t want your mom hanging around. Besides – you’ve got a house moving to plan, and a new life to start.”

“Okay, if you’re really sure. But do me one favour? At least let me drive you to the airport?”

She nodded.

“I’d like that.”

~xxXxx~

When I awoke I heard mom in the kitchen and smiled, nostalgic for my childhood days. Pulling on my comfy, battered old jeans and Carlisle’s favourite purple shirt, I emerged to find a stack of pancakes waiting for me, oozing syrup. Seeing me in the doorway, she poured me a coffee and smiled like she always did when she surprised me.

“Happy birthday, baby; now eat before they get cold!”

I didn’t need telling twice and set to demolishing the stack before me with relish. Mom ate her considerably smaller serving whilst watching me, evidently enjoying the sight of her baby boy eating a filling meal. Or maybe she thought I wasn’t feeding myself. Knowing mom like I did, that option was more likely.

As I was scraping the last of the syrup off my plate and wiping the stray dribble from my chin, she handed me a package, biting her lip.

“I hope you like it.”

Unwrapping the small parcel carefully, I found a dark blue box containing a beautiful watch. Turning it over, I saw it was engraved:

‘For my son on his 21st. Love always, mom.’

I swallowed the lump in my throat, fastening the piece on to my wrist and going to hug her tight.

“Do you like it?” She sounded nervous.

“It’s gorgeous, mom. Thank you so much.”

Pulling back a little, she rummaged in her purse and withdrew an envelope from the depths.

“There’s more. I’ve been saving for this day for some time, and I wanted to give you something you needed. When you told me about the accident and that you had a new car, I knew what to do.”

She handed me the envelope then.

“Give this to Emmett as part of your loan repayment. I think it will help quite a bit.”

I frowned then, pulling out the folded stack of bills within. My voice was barely a whisper.

“Mom – there’s over a thousand dollars here.”

“It’s two thousand exactly, baby.”

I reeled in shock.

“I can’t accept that, mom. It’s far too much. You should keep your savings for yourself.”

She shook her head briskly.

“Nonsense. I’ve been putting some by for years now to help towards a deposit for an apartment of your own or a car. So here it is. I wish it were more. It’s a new start, Edward: new car, new home, new relationship. Let me help in my own way.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I hugged and kissed her, unable to express my gratitude. The money would clear a huge chunk of my debt to Emmett, and no longer paying rent to my landlord would be of immense help too.

A thought crossed my mind then; I would want to pay my way with Carlisle too. That was something we needed to agree on, even if it was just paying for groceries and gas. I would not be a freeloader and allow Carlisle to pay for everything. I had my pride.

When mom was ready to leave, I took her to the airport via Emmett’s as she wanted to say goodbye to him too. When we knocked, he appeared, still chewing what appeared to be a late breakfast. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he pulled her into one of his bear hugs when she explained she was leaving early.

He invited us in, but mom said no. Then we heard a soft voice from the kitchen.

“Emmett? Would Elizabeth and Edward like a drink?”

Rosalie’s face appeared around the door, smiling at us; I noticed Emm’s blush and happy smile.

“Morning, Rosalie. Good to see you again.”

She smiled, somewhat bashfully.

“Good morning, Elizabeth. I hope the karaoke didn’t keep you up last night. I should think this pair could be heard all the way across town!”

Emmett gasped in mock horror, and I laughed.

“You love my singing – you said so.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close to him.

“Yeah, I just said that so you’d cook me breakfast.” She giggled when he kissed her loudly on the cheek.

“Keep telling yourself that, babe.”

Mom was smiling, evidently very happy to see her ‘second son’ so happy. They made their goodbyes, and soon we were pulling into the departures drop off point. Jumping out of the car, I unloaded her bags but she stopped me from carrying them in, instead fussing with my collar in a way that made me feel like a schoolboy again.

“Mom...” I almost whined, and she mock-scolded me.

“You should look your best. You have a handsome man waiting for you.”

“Mom, he’d love me wearing a garbage sack.”

Or nothing at all.

“No matter, there,” she finished adjusting. “You look very handsome yourself; this colour suits you. My little boy is all grown up. I’m so proud.”

I blushed a little. “Call me on my cell when you get home?”

She waved her hand in agreement, but looked secretly pleased.

“If you insist, now off you go; there’s no sense both of us hanging around here.”

Leaving her to board, I drove away, heading to Carlisle’s, ready to surprise him.

~xxXxx~

It had started to rain, a fine drizzle that made it impossible to keep a clear windshield and certainly not befitting a day as momentous as this. My joy was unrestrained, my need to see him eclipsing all other thoughts.

I debated on using my key, but to me that was only for when Carlisle wasn’t home. Plus, I didn’t officially live there yet, but it couldn’t happen soon enough for me. I rang the bell for what could possibly be the last time. His face when he opened the door was better than winning the lottery.

“Honey, I’m home,” I quipped, and I found myself being pulled inside and kissed hard, our arms winding around each other like ivy, hands clutching and grasping. With a herculean effort, our lips parted enough for him to speak.

“Are you here for a quick visit or to stay?” he breathed.

I grinned.

“What do you think?”

His chuckles were music to my ears.

“Let’s celebrate, shall we?”

Taking my hand, he led me upstairs to our bedroom where he pressed me against the closed door. Fingers slowly unfastened my shirt buttons while his lips toyed with mine, light grazing kisses that he did not allow me to return; the tormenting touch of his tongue tracing the swollen fullness of my top lip was indescribable... I was going quietly insane.

“This is my favourite shirt, (pop) so I won’t ruin it, (pop) but damn, (pop) you look good enough to eat.”

Last button undone, my shirt fell open, enabling his questing fingers to trace the planes of my chest. Thumbs circled my nipples as lips cruised up my neck, dropping hot kisses along my throat. My mouth was open and my breathing rough, his thumbs playing a symphony over my sensitive nubs. I moaned long and low, warm tendrils of longing unfurling and radiating across my body, scorching every inch of me from the inside out. My fingers lost themselves in his hair, my hand holding his head in place against my neck; his talented tongue flickered along my skin, soothing each spot that his teeth deliberately grazed, on his achingly slow, upward journey.

His nose nudged the underside of my jaw, his lips whispering over my skin, higher and higher, until hot breath spilled across my ear, turning my knees to water. At that moment, I was grateful my back was pressed against the wood of the door so that I couldn’t slide to the floor, lost in the euphoria he alone could invoke.

The touch of his tongue inside my ear drew from me a cry of such desperation that it felt as if it were being torn from my heaving chest. My whole body shuddered, my heart beating a staccato rhythm in time with his plunging tongue. I was a whimpering, writhing wreck, nothing more than sensation held together by desperate need.

It felt like a thousand years had passed before his mouth found mine again, reclaiming it like a long lost jewel in the desert. I drank him in, moaning like a greedy whore as my hands pulled his hips tight against mine, his arousal pressing into me. Although I longed to drop to my knees and taste him, I had no choice but to let him lead, completely under his thrall. He bucked against me, tormenting me with promises of pleasures to follow.

I felt his hands at my belt, sliding it open and leaving it hanging, the achingly slow lowering of my zipper making my helpless groan a plea for more. He pulled back and I bit my lip, seeing his eyes darken with lust. With a sharp breath his lips claimed mine again, the kiss deep and bruising, sending my senses spinning out of control. I couldn’t get him close enough, crushing his head to mine as our kiss bordered on savage.

He reached inside my pants and palmed me; the kiss broke as I gasped and panted for air, gazing into his eyes. He sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving mine as he released the button, lowering the fabric until it bunched around my thighs. My underwear was next, added to the wad of material above my knees, before he leaned in and took a hold of my shaft. I held my breath then, watching the head of my cock slide between his plump lips as he took me all the way in. The feel of my flesh sliding over his tongue was exquisite as he took me deep into the opening of his throat; my eyes fluttered closed and my breath caught, pleasure blooming behind my eyelids as I tried not to thrust into his mouth. When he released me, his hands stroking my thighs, he sat back on his heels and looked up at me.

His voice was sultry, his eyes hooded.

“Edward, what you asked me for: do you still want that?”

I nodded slowly. His signature smile made my heart pound.

“In that case, let’s work on getting you nice and relaxed.”

He slid my bunched up clothes down to the floor so I could step out of them, his warm hands reaching around to grasp my ass, pulling my hips forward until my cock found his lips again. He sucked me teasingly slow, his dark eyes watching me the whole time. I groaned at the sight, trying to buck my hips in encouragement but his hands slid round to my hips, pinning me to the door. After running the flat of his tongue up the length of my cock one last time, he dipped his head and nuzzled my balls, suckling each in turn. As he rolled his tongue around them, his hand slid down to pump my now leaking shaft. I was getting close, and tried to make him stop so it wasn’t over so quickly. Although his attention was diverted from my aching balls, his hand continued its merciless rhythm as he kissed his way up over my stomach, lingering over my abs with long, leisurely swipes of his tongue before I cried out, my back arching as streams of come landed both on my stomach and on his waiting tongue.

I shuddered and moaned, his hand slowing as he eased out the last drops, cleaning me as he did so. When he stood, I all but slumped into his arms feeling like my legs would give way at any moment. He chuckled and backed toward the bed (our bed), turning me so that I could lie back on the cool covers that felt so good against my heated skin. My relaxation lasted but a second; watching Carlisle pull off his shirt, release his belt and zipper and drop his pants to the floor was a defining moment. He kicked them away and moved forward until his legs were against the mattress, his heavy cock standing proud. Unable to tear my eyes away from it, I rolled over and scooted to the edge of the bed on my stomach. Craning my neck, I was able to take him into me whilst one hand cupped and massaged his sac. His breathing quickened, hips swaying forward in the gentlest motion as he sank deeply into my eager mouth.

But, just as I was getting into my stride, his hands found my hair and stilled my actions, carefully withdrawing from me.

His voice was husky now as he looked down into my eyes.

“Come right to the edge of the bed and get onto your knees.” He patted the coverlet and I did as he asked.

“Lean forward, love, I need that beautiful ass up in the air.”

His words made my entire body flush with blood, and I idly wondered if my ass cheeks were as pink as my face. I assumed the position he requested, trembling a little with a mix of anticipation and nerves, but I wasn’t worried; I knew I was going have one hell of a good time.

His fingers stroked the curves of my ass reverently, as if it were the eighth wonder of the world. As he caressed and palmed my flesh, his thumbs skated up my crease, parting my cheeks each time. I felt the air on my exposed hole and mentally told myself to relax; this time when his thumbs swept up and over, they rubbed either side of my pucker, just enough to make me squirm. On the next sweep, I found myself pushing back into his thumbs and was rewarded with his warm tongue flickering between them, circling inward, making me gasp and moan loudly into the mattress.

His tongue retreated for a moment and I groaned in disappointment. His thumbs were still working their magic and I pressed upward. Hearing his chuckle, I felt the soft pad of his thumb circle directly over my hole, teasing the opening before the tip slipped inside without difficulty.

So... good... more... please... oh god, please lick me again...

All that escaped my mouth amid unashamed groans was the single word ‘please’.

“More, Edward? More of this, do you mean?”

And then his agile tongue found its target once again, flickering all around my tender muscle before slipping inside to drive me insane. My knee slipped to the side as my foot tried to paddle the sheet, the feeling intense as anticipation built rapidly.

My arms trembled as he tongue-fucked me relentlessly; I mewled like a kitten, pushing my ass into his face as he worshipped my most tender place. When his finger slid inside, followed by another shortly afterward, I was too far gone to care. He twisted and turned them and I hung from his knuckles, chanting his name over and over; when they slid from me and were replaced by his mouth, sucking now as well as lapping and probing, I was almost incoherent.

My chest was heaving painfully when he retreated, smoothing my ass with both palms as if it were a priceless artefact.

“Are you ready for more, Edward?”

“Yes... yes...”

I heard the click of the lube bottle, and the rustle of the condom wrapper being torn. I told my body to relax, to make this as easy as possible. We’d done this before when I’d had no experience whatsoever; at least this time I knew what to expect, and I knew I could trust Carlisle with my life.

The coolness of the lube made me start, jolting me out of my reverie.

“How would you prefer to do this, my love? This is all about you.”

I felt warm kisses on the base of my back and shivered at the change in temperature. Sitting back on my heels, I turned to face him.

“What do you suggest?” I blushed like a virgin.

He crawled onto the bed and lay down, his hands reaching for me.

“Let’s try you going on top to start. Take as long as you need; we have all the time in the world.”

Straddling him somewhat awkwardly, I let him guide me until he was poised at my entrance. Staring into his beautiful eyes, so full of love for me, I breathed out hard and sank down a fraction, feeling the head of his cock breach me. Stilling for a moment, I prepared to take more when I felt able. Slowly, so very slowly, I slid down, little by little, until I was stretched open around him. My eyes were wide when I finally had all of him inside me; I almost forgot I needed to move.

His hands on my ass encouraged me to rock, helping me find a rhythm that worked for me. Every time he slipped out a little, my body shuddered with pleasure and I learned what to do to enhance that sensation. Lifting a little and sinking back down felt so good and I saw Carlisle’s cheeks flush, his eyes dark and hooded with pure desire.

As I grew in confidence, he added more to the mix. The first time that he thrust upward, I almost lost my balance, my body lost in pleasure. He held me tight, fingers splayed over my ass possessively as his cock slid in and out of my body. My head fell forward, eyes closed and mouth open in euphoria as my hands gripped his hips like a rodeo rider on his first time out on a wild stallion. My cock was hard again, the feel of it slapping against my stomach simply adding to my combined sensory pleasure. Sensing my impending loss of control, he stilled and I looked up, questions mingled with pleas shining in my eyes.

“I think you’re ready for more now.”

His heated gaze could not be denied. I found myself expertly flipped onto my back in a simple movement, Carlisle still buried to the hilt within me. Now free to move as he wished, he flexed his hips once to test my reaction and I fought to stop my eyes from closing. My legs lifted automatically and I rested them on his gorgeous ass; he took that as his cue to move and began an even, regular rhythm. My hips lifted to encourage him to take me, claim me as his; I knew he understood when his hands reached for mine, our fingers curling around each other’s and holding tight, our bodies riding the intertwined waves of passion and love. Leaning in, he finally kissed me, our combined breathless moans more perfectly crafted than any piece of classical music.

His thrusts grew in urgency, and I saw his need for me reflected in his eyes. Releasing my hands, he reached between us for my cock, swollen and leaking onto my stomach from the friction of his body. His grip was firm and sure, his hand pumping in time with each snap of his hips. I urged him on, my breathing ragged and my cock wet with the fluid that his hand collected on each upward stroke. I could feel the heat gathering deep inside, a tumultuous river of ecstasy threatening to burst its banks at any moment. With each thrust I lifted my hips to meet him and saw his eyes glaze, his face flushed as he approached the point of no return. His hand moved rapidly on my aching flesh, my lungs straining as I too strived for release, teeth clenched, and eyes wild.

My head fell back when the wave engulfed me and I cried out his name as my back arched into him. I felt my muscles grip him tightly as I came long and hard, come splashing onto my chest. Forcing my eyes open, I saw Carlisle’s desperate face as my contractions induced his own climax, his face etched with the exquisite agony of release.

Our heaving, sweating bodies stayed locked together as our mouths found each other in soft kisses of passion spent and the promise of love everlasting.

~xxXxx~

Lying in the circle of his arms, his lips brushing my temple as he sleepily nuzzled my hair, I smiled.

“If only those nurses knew what they were missing.”

I giggled a little to myself.

“Hmm?” His face nestled into my neck.

“They have a nickname for you, you know. I have to say, it’s pretty perfect.”

He shifted a little so he could look at me, frowning. I stroked my thumb over the fine lines on his forehead with a mischievous smile.

“The nurses, both male and female, so I’m told, all refer to you as Dr Do-Me.”

He raised a sardonic eyebrow as he raised himself up on his elbow.

“Is that so?”

I nodded, eyes widening for emphasis.

“Carlisle, you’re so damn hot, half the staff want you. Did you never notice?”

He looked startled for a moment before brushing his lips over mine, his tongue licking my lower lip enticingly.

“I should get you a white coat then.”

It was my turn to look confused. His lips brushed mine, soft as a snowflake.

“Why?”

“Because then I could legitimately say, ‘Oh Doctor Masen, please do me now.”

I dissolved into laughter that turned into moans as his kiss consumed me once more.

~xxXxx~

All I Want to Hear

This is a little something new with my favourite boys. For those of you waiting for the next chapter of Learning to Fly, fear not - it’s almost done! This plot bunny hit and had to be written.

Thanks to my pre reader Jasper1863Hale, and my beta mxpi1970.

All characters owned and created by Stephenie Meyer. The plot is all mine.

Summary: A voice can change everything; it can consume your waking hours and weave its way into your dreams. In the end, what happens when it’s all you want to hear?

~o.O.o.~

Checking the instructions in the letter, he calls the hotel to confirm the booking. When the voice answers, he is not at all prepared for the unfamiliar reaction.

“Dragonfly Inn. How may I help you today?”

The voice is deep; the honeyed tones making him momentarily forget his reason for calling.

Finding his voice, he speaks, sounding somewhat flustered to his own ears.

“Um, yes; I’m calling to confirm a booking for the 27th made for me by Hale Publishing. I have a lecture to present.”

Why was he telling the man this? It was doubtless of no concern to him whatsoever.

“The booking is for just the one night, sir?”

Again the beautiful intonation, seductive enough in its cadence to send a bolt of something thought long forgotten through his chest.

“Y-yes that’s correct. A single room for one night.”

“According to instructions, we have a double booked for you, sir. Is that acceptable?”

The inflexion of the softly spoken question, the tone almost intimate, affects him quite profoundly. His breath catches as he struggles to reply in the appropriate manner.

“A double will be fine. Does the booking include breakfast?”

“Yes, sir. You can take breakfast in our restaurant or in your room if you prefer. If that’s everything, I just need your name to complete the booking.”

“Of course; it’s Cullen. Carlisle Cullen.”

~o.O.o~

His flight from New York to Maine is blessedly short. Uncomfortable away from his home after so long, he checks his briefcase repeatedly to ensure his lecture materials and script are safe. He only has carry-on luggage for the overnight stay, but has packed more than needed in case of emergency. He fears being caught unprepared.

How long has it been since he last left New York? He cannot remember. These days he finds it a trial to do more than the grocery shopping, having become an almost reclusive figure as his writing consumes more and more of his life. He keeps himself well dressed, a habit learned from his college days; his hair is neatly cut, still a glossy blond. To the outside world, Carlisle Cullen is the image of a successful man at the top of his game. There is no one person close enough to see the lonely man, so detached from the world that his only link is through his writing.

Leaving the airport, he hails a cab to the Dragonfly Inn. His conversation with the driver is limited to destination and ‘keep the change’. The prospect of any further interaction unnerves him and he wonders how he will cope with the lecture.

Arriving at the inn, he makes his way to reception, eager to check in and close the door. He wonders if the man he spoke with is there today, and what he would do if he were.

The truth is, he knows the answer is nothing.

A pretty, petite young woman smiles at him across the desk and asks for his details. He confirms his name and she asks him to sign in, handing him the electronic door key for room 13 on the second floor. He offers thanks with a small, embarrassed smile, and heads to the stairs the girl has indicated.

The electronic door key is annoying and takes a moment to figure out. When the light finally turns green, he lets himself in and looks around. The room is larger than expected and beautifully furnished; there is a lot of polished wood in keeping with the style of the inn, and a large sleigh bed that dominates the space. It is a warm, inviting place and Carlisle is surprised at how safe he feels here. The feeling is somewhat unexpected.

With nothing to unpack but his clothes for the lecture, he hangs up the pants and jacket before firing up his laptop and settling in for the evening to write.

Just for a change.

~o.O.o~

He writes a little, but is surprised to find himself distracted. He knows the reason. He knows he won’t be able to relax until he meets the owner of that expressive voice. Perhaps then he can finally put an end to the thoughts that plague him every night; inappropriate thoughts that have no place in his serious literary mind, but have crept in anyway, hiding in the dark recesses of his overactive brain, waiting for an opportunity.

He rubs his eyes with thumb and forefinger and wonders if a nap would help, but the sad fact is that Carlisle is an insomniac, born from years of writing til all hours. He can no longer fall asleep at will; instead he merely naps for a few minutes here and there, refusing to resort to pills to aid his rest. He often wonders how long he can carry on at this pace, drinking countless cups of coffee and never truly resting, just working until his body screams ‘time out’.

Picking up the phone, he calls room service and orders coffee. The young woman from the desk asks him if he would like a meal as the restaurant is now open. His stomach reminds him that he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and he peruses the little menu by the phone, opting for a roast beef dinner and a decadent dessert. He figures that he might as well enjoy the amenities when the publishing house is paying.

Hearing the rattle of the trolley outside his door a few minutes later, he opens it to allow the man to enter and place his food and coffee on the table therein. He cannot help but look at the man and wonder if it is he that possesses the voice that has him captivated. Offering the man a customary tip, he is politely thanked with a warm smile and Carlisle thereby receives confirmation that this is not the man he seeks.

The food is good and energises him. The coffee is strong and hot, and soon Carlisle is writing again, deep into his work, the hours once again melting away.

It’s late when he returns to reality, and he checks the little card before deciding to ring down for more coffee. When the velvet tones of his mystery man flow down the handset, he is almost unable to speak.

“Uh, sorry to disturb you, but I’d like some coffee sent up if I may?” The words are forced out, his lungs barely functioning.

“Of course, sir. What is your room number?”

“Oh, yes, it’s room 13.”

He thinks he imagines the pause that follows, but then the man speaks again as if nothing has happened.

“Certainly, Mr Cullen.”

Of course he knows the night clerk has the names of each guest to hand. He knows it means nothing, and yet the thought at the back of his mind points out that the young lady simply called him ‘sir’.

A member of the night staff arrives with his coffee, a polite and respectful gentleman who is also a complete disappointment to Carlisle. He wonders what he is actually expecting from this man. He has no preconceived notions about appearance or even age, although he admits to himself that the voice sounded young. In a moment of madness for Carlisle, he takes his room key and makes his way quietly to the stairs, intending to catch a glimpse of whoever is on the reception desk.

When he sees the desk is unmanned, he returns to his room, bitter disappointment like a knife in his gut.

He undresses, dons the luxury bathrobe provided, and then naps in the generously proportioned bed for a brief time, achieving nothing that could be considered restorative sleep. He then settles in to write some more, this time staying beneath the covers as much as possible, still shrouded in the warm robe. It is then that the thought occurs to him.

Stay one more night.

He knows he will have to change his plane ticket, and pay the additional room charge. Yet all he can think about is leaving without ever finding the owner of the dulcet tones that have owned him since that first telephone call.

As dawn breaks, he goes to take a refreshing shower and prepare for the day ahead. He fervently hopes the lecture will be a success, and that he will manage to complete it without mishap or embarrassment, proving himself to be the professional that others believe him to be. Looking at himself in the mirror, he sees pale skin in keeping with his blond hair, a straight nose and full lips. But in his own eyes he sees a story that few have ever bothered to stay long enough to read, and he wonders again if he is fooling himself with his thoughts over this man.

After dressing carefully, he takes himself downstairs to breakfast, knowing that at this hour he is likely to be alone to eat. The staff are readying the restaurant, and smile at his what they believe to be enthusiasm for his meal. Only he of course knows that it is purely an avoidance tactic to keep contact with others to a minimum; his day ahead will be fraught enough without crowded tables and stilted conversation.

He is first to be served, and sips his steaming coffee as his pen scribbles notes on a small pad secreted in his inner jacket pocket. His eggs are perfect, his bacon crisp; he drains his second cup of coffee and wipes his mouth with his cloth napkin before standing and leaving the table, nodding to the serving staff without meeting their smiling gaze.

Returning to his room, he fetches his case having checked the contents one last time to be sure that everything is in order. Pulling on his coat, he makes his way back down to the foyer and heads outside to hail a taxi.

In his bid to be invisible, his eyes on the carpet ahead, he fails to see the young man openly gazing at him, his bronze hair shining in the early morning sunlight.

He fails to see the look that most would recognise as desire.

~o.O.o~

Arriving at the university, he finds his way to the main office as instructed. Escorted to the lecture hall, he is both grateful and concerned by the attention the lady is showing. When she asks if there is anything he needs, he sees his chance and asks for coffee. She flits away to fetch him a cup, and he settles himself into a seat in the hall, breathing deep and trying not to panic. He admits to himself that what scares him most is that they are not much younger than he, and wonders if they might think him unworthy of giving the lecture.

His coffee arrives as the students file in. He dares not look up until his watch says it’s time to start, the murmur of voices having reached an excited volume. Taking a deep steadying breath, he survives the lecture, barely making eye contact with anyone unless it is absolutely necessary. The students are entranced by his assumed air of authority, his knowledge holding them in thrall. They ask intelligent questions that he answers with a sense of accomplishment and relief.

The lecture draws to a close and he receives a resounding round of applause from his young audience. He fears that some might try to speak to him, but fortunately they all have classes to get to and he is spared the awkwardness of such an encounter.

When the auditorium has emptied he makes his way outside, having been effusively thanked by the Dean. It is only when he is sitting in a taxi that he allows himself to relax, and think of the man who has become so central to his current existence.

Arriving back at the Dragonfly, he remembers his plan. Waiting at the reception desk, he clears his throat self-consciously and waits for the young lady to look up. She smiles at him and he makes his request – is his room available for an extra night? She replies in the affirmative and makes the booking, confirming the charge will be made to his card, and not the publishing house. Using the public telephone on the desk, he then calls the airport and successfully changes his flight time to New York.

He feels strange, almost exultant, as if he has completed a great mission. Heading up to his room, he changes out of his suit and into his spare set of casual clothing that he brought in case of emergency. He then proceeds to lose himself in his work, feeling the words flow now that the pressure of the lecture has passed.

He writes until late; realising he has only minutes in which to order his evening meal, he calls down to reception. The young lady once again takes his order and his food arrives promptly, its arrival announced by the rattling trolley.

With his stomach once again full of good food and hot coffee, he settles in for a night of writing and research.

~o.O.o~

A little after midnight, he calls down for fresh coffee and is rewarded with the honeyed tones of his obsession.

“Yes, could I have coffee sent up please? Room -“

“13, yes of course, Mr Cullen. It will be with you shortly.”

Carlisle replaces the handset, his chest tight, hand shaking almost imperceptibly with the rush of adrenalin.

This obsession isn’t healthy.

For indeed, he now accepts it to be so; an obsession he cannot escape.

The soft knock on the door rouses him from his work once again. He answers the door, stepping back to allow the waiter inside.

The man is not one he has met before, and appears uncomfortable as he sets down the tray of coffee. Carlisle holds the door for him, but he hesitates and then speaks, looking at him hopefully.

“Uhm, forgive me, Mr Cullen, but I was wondering if you would like some company? I’m on my break and I...”

Carlisle reels at the recognition, his heart pounding so hard he fears he may hyperventilate. The owner of the voice is more beautiful than he could have imagined and, despite his own overwhelming draw to the man, he cannot understand why he wishes to spend his break alone with him.

The man is still looking at him and waiting for an answer, his face clouding as he assumes his company is not welcome. Carlisle finds his voice just as he turns to leave.

“Yes, I would.”

He looks down at the tray to see two cups and is hit with the sudden understanding that the man planned this; it was not some idle offer. He beckons him in unnecessarily and the door closes, but this time, instead of shutting the world out, he has a small fraction of it here, on his own private plane of existence.

He is gawky, almost childlike in his awkwardness. The man motions to the coffee and pours two cups, handing one to him. The entire time, Carlisle is looking at him in wonder, taking in his height, his pale skin, crazy bronze hair that looks to be natural despite the vibrancy of the tone. And then there are his eyes; deep pools of green that threaten to swamp Carlisle’s fragile vista and forever change the landscape of his world.

They sit and sip coffee, neither speaking, until the man finally puts down his almost untouched cup and breaks the impasse.

“I should introduce myself. I’m Edward Masen, Mr Cullen, and I just wanted to meet you unofficially. I recognised your name when your publishing house made the booking, and I wanted to see if you were like some of the other authors we’ve had staying here.”

Carlisle watches his lips form the words, trying his hardest at the same time to both remain detached and appear comfortable in this unforeseen situation.

“In what way, may I ask?”

The man, Edward, looks past him, a slight flush rising over his throat. Carlisle is fascinated by the reaction almost as much as the timbre of his voice.

“Some are quite arrogant and demanding, liking the attention that recognition affords them. But you... the staff have hardly noticed you, and when you have appeared you were quiet and respectful. I have to say it’s rather unusual from my experience. But then, what do I know? I’m just a duty manager in a small hotel; you’re a big shot writer. One whose work I enjoy, I should add.”

He flushes harder this time, as if the confession has cost him dearly.

Carlisle struggles with this information. He fears becoming entangled in fan situations; indeed his earlier lecture had ended successfully in his mind because he had not had to speak privately with any students.

Edward seems to notice his inner conflict and is quick to dispel his anxiety.

“Mr Cullen...”

“Carlisle, please.”

“Carlisle...“ Hearing his name fall from those lips causes a ripple of goosebumps to flare across his back, the quickening of his own breathing almost undetectable.

“It’s okay; I’m not some crazed fan. I just felt like I had to meet you, to talk to you. I’m not explaining it well and it’s starting to sound weird to my own ears. Perhaps I should go.”

He makes to rise, but stops when Carlisle speaks.

“How long is your break, Edward?” For the first time in a long time, he makes full eye contact, feeling once again that same punch to the gut at the open beauty of his gaze.

“Just 20 minutes. There are only two of us on duty overnight. In fact, my break is almost over and I should be getting back. I’m sorry to have intruded on your time, but I thank you for your hospitality. I hope I haven’t kept you up; it’s late.”

He stands and offers his hand to Carlisle who clasps it, unprepared for the bolt of lightning that rips through him, leaving him weak in both body and soul. A sensation long forgotten rises to the surface.

His memory kindly reminds him that its name is desire.

Finding his voice, he responds with an almost desperate air.

“I barely sleep, hence the coffee. You certainly weren’t disturbing me.”

Edward steps to the door, turning to face him.

“It was a true pleasure to meet you. I’m glad you stayed an extra night; I enjoyed talking to you, albeit briefly.”

Carlisle agrees, his heart in his throat, as he smiles for the first time in who knows how long.

Picking up the now empty coffee cups, Edward quietly leaves the room, leaving a void that can forevermore only be filled by a voice like liquid sex and expressive sea-green eyes.

Carlisle heads to the shower, bewildered by this turn of events and his own unexpected reaction. After freshening up, he dons the hotel robe once more. As he lies back against the plump pillows, his mind now races with desire for both the physical as well as the aural vision of his fantasy. He eventually drifts into a light sleep, laced with flashes of green and bronze.

In his slumber, he smiles.

~o.O.o~

Waking after an unusually refreshing sleep, he looks at his watch to see that it’s 6am and that four hours have passed. He marvels at this, having not slept for longer than two hours in one stretch for many months.

The knock at his door sends him into a mild panic. Heart racing, he jumps up, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. Opening the door a fraction, he is met with the one sight he could only have dreamed of; he blinks hard to ensure he is awake.

“May I come in?” His voice, low and sultry in the darkened hallway, resonates through Carlisle who opens the door wide as if compelled.

“I hope this is okay; my shift just ended and I wanted to say goodbye before I left.”

Carlisle is aware that he is nodding, holding the door open for Edward to enter. The room inside is dark, save for a bedside lamp casting a pool of light across the pillows. To Carlisle, having Edward in the room takes it from safe and cosy to oddly intimate. He is surprised to discover that he is more than happy with this transition.

Edward stands, fingers raking his hair as he sees Carlisle’s robe and the disturbed bed linen.

“I woke you? I’m so sorry; I should go.”

He turns, somewhat embarrassed, and it is Carlisle who speaks up, his voice shaking with the complex mix of feelings searing his blood in Edward’s proximity.

“No; I was already awake, and believe me, you’re disturbing nothing.”

He chuckles self-consciously, the sound alien to his ears after so long. He begins to realise just how many things he has missed in his time of self-imposed exile. He sits on the edge of the bed, adjusting his robe, and motions to Edward to sit.

“Mr Cullen... Carlisle....I...” He sounds unsure, his former confidence appearing to desert him momentarily.

Edward points to the bed. “May I?”

When Carlisle nods, the mattress dips as he perches on the edge, his fingers tracing the carved wood at its foot. Carlisle watches his Adams apple bob as he swallows, and wonders what he could possibly want to say that is causing him so much difficulty.

After a drawn out pause that charges the air, Edward shuffles around to face Carlisle, a knee bent up onto the coverlet. He clears his throat, the back of his hand over his mouth obscuring Carlisle’s view of his lips.

The fingers of his supporting hand are kneading the exposed sheet, his facial muscles twitching as he verges on speech. Carlisle’s fingers slide along the sheet, wanting to soothe the anxious clenching; Edward’s eyes follow their progress and there is an audible intake of breath announcing aloud his anticipation. Carlisle finds the courage from somewhere deep inside to push his hand forwards that extra fraction. The pads of his fingertips slide over the smooth, neat nails and settle, feather light, on his knuckles. This minute amount of skin to skin contact is enough to cause Carlisle further sensory shock.

Edward is not so hesitant; pushing his hand under Carlisle’s, he laces their fingers together, finally dispelling any doubt that either man has. They both gaze at their intertwined digits in wonder; looking up, their eyes meet and lock, raw need, the basest desire of all, flooding the space between them.

It’s Carlisle who surprises himself, moving closer to the beautiful man with the wide, sincere eyes as if in a dream. His face draws close to Edward’s, and he feels his warm breath, hears its slight rasp as his intake becomes ragged. Carlisle gazes into pools of deepest green and prepares to drown.

Leaning into the moment, Edward’s hand slips and he almost loses his balance. The moment is broken as their hands part, Edward trying to recover his composure with embarrassment painfully apparent in his now introverted posture. He stands, unsure of what he should do, and Carlisle watches him before rising to his feet. He says nothing, instead reaching for him, his fingers sinking into his unruly hair. He cups his head, feeling the warmth as Edward leans into the caress before meeting his eyes. The desire in their depths is intoxicating, and all it takes to ignite the spark is Edward’s whisper:

“Please...”

Their lips meet, inelegantly and loudly, moans escaping as their mouths discover each other for the first time. Arms wind around necks, hands cup faces, tongues flutter and caress in a joyous whirlwind voyage of discovery. Carlisle is lost at sea, one small boat bobbing on ferocious waves that promise his destruction, and yet he cares not.

When out of sheer necessity they part, chests heaving, hearts pounding, Carlisle whispers in surrender:

“I want you.”

Edward’s answer is one of complete supplication.

“I’m yours.”

~o.O.o~