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lifetimeprelude2010-02-22 08:39 am
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March, 1921.
I imagine I am very politely driving Edward insane.
My eyes are still different; the minimal interaction I have had with others has been curtailed and stiff. I do a lot of writing and hunting now, and feel more...inhuman, than I have in some time.
Edward does what he can. I am grateful to him here, now, always. We are in Minnesota for no reason I can adequately discern - but it is somewhere different, Edward says, and I did promise him travel. He has a wandering soul sometimes. This may be good for him - I am unsure.
Regardless, I am here in the apartment we have rent by week and Edward is elsewhere.
I am bored.
- C.C.
Carlisle to all comers would appear asleep - sprawled across a low couch belly-down and eyes shut.
My eyes are still different; the minimal interaction I have had with others has been curtailed and stiff. I do a lot of writing and hunting now, and feel more...inhuman, than I have in some time.
Edward does what he can. I am grateful to him here, now, always. We are in Minnesota for no reason I can adequately discern - but it is somewhere different, Edward says, and I did promise him travel. He has a wandering soul sometimes. This may be good for him - I am unsure.
Regardless, I am here in the apartment we have rent by week and Edward is elsewhere.
I am bored.
- C.C.
Carlisle to all comers would appear asleep - sprawled across a low couch belly-down and eyes shut.
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Carlisle's chin tucks down, nose to Edward's collarbone.
"I love you."
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"You had better."
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The answer in his head was far more directly precise.
Beyond the point of childishness possession.
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For not being such a patient creature, human or inhuman, Edward had managed the last ten minutes (and two and half months) with what he thought he should. Tried to cling to an accepting slowness Carlisle observed with painstaking ease through out all his time -- at least before the second messenger had come.
It wasn't easy and it didn't always work. That it had taken the passing of one second, of another person's will, to take away part of his foundation. That it had, in too many instances, seemed to have taken Carlisle to a place where he could only hear him and not reach him.
To place where he'd question far more about his place in Carlisle's world.
On the heels of his already trying to bite down a response in this oddly paced not reunion, but return of sorts, it's far less than a thought on his part after Carlisle's words. His fingers balled into skin with a groan and he pulled back only enough to find Carlisle's mouth again.
This time with nothing near gentleness or ease.
Only hard and possessive agreement.
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In the freedom from looking like Them, having people look at him (in his mind) as though -- as though he was something Other -- and when he is free of it, he sees how lucky he was.
That in his funk, Edward didn't get pissed off and leave.
Edward is kissing him like he'd eat the remainder of Carlisle's soul if he doesn't give it over.
It is so good.
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Carlisle, in Edward's opinion, is still able to think far too well. Which might be the challenge in his expression when he pulled back slightly looking at the face before him, even though he hasn't released his grip.
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But it is a piece of it.
A lack of striving and holding back and waiting.
The friction against skin and the focus in thoughts.
To take Carlisle's sudden matching momentum and, instead of matching it to go with it, falling back toward the cushions of the couch and dragging Carlisle down with him by refusing to let space form between. Anywhere now.
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The name becomes kind of a chant, here, and further thought - guilt for his reactions these months - is stifled by his hard-on. Fuck -
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"Am I allowed..." between tasting at Edward's jawline, "...to want you undressed now?"
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Impertinent golden gaze when he caught Carlisle's eyes.
"You already do."
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Edward being dressed and under him is a very big problem.
So he stands up.
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Instead he attends to the buttons still done on his shirt.
One by one by one. Quite at a leisure pace.
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Beaming.
Carlisle bites his lip as he watches the growing expanse of Edward's bare chest with a suppressed groan.
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Just button and button. Pulling his shirt from his pants so he could finish the rest, leaving it open with only the thick silver ring at his breast bone, and only then raising his arms over his chest to turn to the buttons at his wrist.
Then he pushed up on one arm to shrug out of one arm rather gracefully even for it being in an odd position. And then the other side. Taking the shirt and folding it once before laying it over the back of the couch.
There may have been the flicker of a smirk when he glanced over when he finally turned himself so his feet were on the floor and not the cushion.
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Do you know what you do to me?
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His gaze flicked back to Carlisle. "Show me."
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Carlisle pushes his pants down to his ankles and steps out of them, releasing himself from constraints and cloth and barriers
so he can kneel, mouth to Edward's chest and feeling him there
hands in Edward's lap, moving higher
trying to be everywhere at once.
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For a moment one hand fisted into Carlisle hair, before uncurling.
Edward shook his head against Carlisle's, before pulling back with a shake of his head, as amused as direct. "You can't understand how hard it is to be patient when I can hear all of that."
Without stopping anything Carlisle was doing, Edward moved finally to getting rid of his pants. It was marvel, with the admission, that he didn't decide to rip them then.
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