AN. My dear fanfriend Zoya Zalan is having a birthday. She was the first one to teach me about joys of polyamorous Cullens. She always saw chemistry between my Carlisle and Edward, even in my canon fics, where I swear none occurs. She beta'd my first foray into C/E slash, and she loved Intervention so much she brought it to the attention of the Perv Pack's Smut Shack, who did a lovely feature on it, including some VERY sexy images (www . pervpackssmutshack 2012 / 02 / team-anything-goes-intervention-by . html?zx=8057aba0143c4c7). It's worth looking at, if for no other reason than to see the sexy gifs. Zoya's also my musical guru for Prelude in C, and taught me the joys of Chopin's Etudes, Scarlatti, and Satie. This additional chapter is dedicated to her, for her birthday, and for her love of my boys and their music. My friend StormDragonfly, who is another incomparable writer and friend, beta'd and encouraged me.
From Chapter 5: Edward…washed them both, and then wrapped his arms around Carlisle, kissing him lazily. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly as he ended the kiss.
"Yes. Perfect. Better than I've been in a really, really long time. Are you sure we don't have time for more? Because I think it's my turn."
Chapter 6: Home
In the back of the van, in the beautiful bed that conjured memories thick and wistful, Carlisle and Esme made love over and over. Between the swells of bliss, Esme told him about Bella approaching her, worried that Edward needed more than a wife. Bella and Esme were both so attuned to their mates… more than he and Edward were, he was afraid. Together, they had hatched the plan to encourage their men to explore desires they'd held for decades. Together the girls considered how the two couples might exist in a more integrated way. Bella had wanted time alone with Carlisle, to strengthen the bond between the couples, but she'd been horribly intimidated. She saw Esme as the epitome of beauty and feminine power. It had been Esme who had encouraged her to play to her strengths: her youth, her apparent innocence, her natural submissiveness. They'd carved a niche for Bella in his sexual life that would not pit her against Esme. A niche that complemented his stunning, experienced, powerful wife. They were each beautiful in entirely different ways, and were able to enjoy their strengths without feeling jealousy. It was a beautiful thing, actually.
When they arrived home, Esme and Carlisle were sated and content, but Bella and Edward, stuck in the cab driving, needed a bit of time to themselves. They retired to the cottage, and were not seen for two days. The others arrived at the house, and life continued on for several days. One might not have even been aware that a huge shift had occurred in the family, except that they all knew it had. Movie night was excruciating. Carlisle sat on the sofa. Edward sat beside him, and twenty minutes into the film, he felt Edward's pinky finger glide lightly against his own, comforting, teasing, and full of promise. Bella sat on Edward's lap, but slowly stretched her legs so that her feet rested on Carlisle's thighs. Esme was tucked under Carlisle's arm to his right, her left hand drawing lazy circles on his hip, and her right reached across his lap to caress Bella's ankle, making her squirm deliciously. For two hours he savored all the sensations, all their touches, wishing he could just start stripping the three of them. When the movie was over, Jasper grabbed Alice and blurred up the stairs. They could hear fabric tearing as they said their goodnights, Emmett looking very confused and Rosalie looking a bit exasperated.
Carlisle fucked Esme hard and deep that night, grateful for the new, sturdy bed. He could hear Emmett and Jasper doing the same with their mates, and had no doubt as to what was happening in the cottage.
On the fourth day, after a long shift at the hospital, Carlisle finally went to his study and closed the door. Bella had said that she'd hidden something in here, and his curiosity could no longer be contained. Her scent was faint and diffuse in the room, and many others had come in since. It took him over an hour to find the picture carefully placed in his hardback copy of The History of the Roman Catholic Church: a close up of a girl in a short tartan skirt, bent over a desk, her ass and waxed pussy just visible where the hem of the skirt rode up, her hands bound together behind her.
He palmed himself, sinking into the plush leather chair. He studied the hands, the curve of the ass, and the edge of the desk. Unlike the two she'd shown him over the weekend, this picture had no facial view; it was a close up below the waist. And yet there was a familiarity to it, and it occurred to Carlisle that where the others had clearly been "found" photos from the internet or similar source, this one might actually be Bella herself, on his desk. He groaned, placing more pressure against his hardening cock.
She really was a tease. And yet, he knew enough now to know the picture was a promise. Something she wanted. So this wasn't teasing. Not really. It was foreplay.
And of course, if the picture were Bella, that begged the question of who had taken it? Who had dressed her, tied her, posed her, and photographed her, all before last weekend's explorations. He knew Bella had fantasies that involved all four of them. Studying the picture again, he was almost sure that the knots were Esme's — he was certainly familiar enough with her work — and a delicious coil ran up his spine imagining that little meeting: Esme manipulating Bella's lithe body, bending her over, tying her up. He wondered if Edward knew of this conspiring between the girls. He wished he could have watched… that they both could have watched. He was sure that Edward would find it as appealing as he did.
He groaned and adjusted himself, and decided not to act on the temptation to lay the three photos out on the desk and masturbate. There would be time for all four of them to explore each other. He wanted to savor the anticipation. Of course, part of him wanted to find Esme and see if he could seduce the information from her… have her describe the scene, describe the knots she had used on Bella as he peeled her out of her clothes. Or perhaps Edward already knew, and he could be enticed to share. Carlisle could think of many things he wanted to do to Edward. They hadn't had nearly enough time after their revelation, and he hadn't seen him much since. Between Edward and Bella's time in the cottage and his at the hospital, there did not seem to be much overlap. Surely they would start spending more time at the main house soon.
Unless they were avoiding him.
A knock on the door gave him just the distraction he needed from that unpleasant thought.
"Come in," he called, slipping the photo into his desk drawer with the others.
Jasper entered, giving him a little nod, and looking happy, but serious.
"Carlisle," he said in greeting.
"Jasper, please sit down," Carlisle said, somewhat guilty for the lust he was throwing off in numerous directions just moments before. Had Jasper noticed? He was smirking.
"I was hoping I could talk to you about these… new dynamics."
Carlisle looked at him warily. "What about them?"
Jasper sat back in the chair, exuding ease. "Well, it seems that you four might have an easier time exploring your new relationships if the house weren't quite so crowded."
Carlisle was crestfallen. "I never meant for this to drive a wedge between—"
"— and it hasn't," Jasper reassured. "It's been a long time coming, as far as I'm concerned." He gave Carlisle a warm smile. "We were all planning move to British Columbia in three months, Alice and I were just thinking that perhaps we'd go up early, take Rose and Emmett with us, and we could spend the time building some cottages on the outskirts of the property so you four could share the main house once you follow. And you'd have some time here to do what you wanted without worrying about making us uncomfortable."
"Like movie night," Carlisle said, knowing that if the other two couples hadn't been in the room, the evening would have ended differently.
"Exactly," he said grinning. "And Carlisle, this isn't me running off with half your coven. I'm just taking care of them while you—"
"I understand, Jasper. I appreciate what you're offering." He sighed, knowing he would miss the others, but knowing that this was likely for the best.
"Alice says this will be the easiest transition. Think of it as a honeymoon," he said, standing.
Carlisle was already feeling a mixture of resignation and excitement. Resigned that he'd be separated by some of his dear family, something he never wanted. But on the other hand, a few months to a vampire was nothing. As long as they all knew it was temporary, and the bonds between them were still strong, they would endure. And he had to admit that he was excited by the prospect of having relative privacy to explore the possibilities between Edward and Bella, Esme and himself. That was a very alluring thought…
"We want the van!" Emmett's voice came from the first floor.
Carlisle burst out laughing, and Jasper did the same. And Carlisle realized that four of them, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Emmett were a bit like his four. And he already thought of Edward and Bella as his, almost as much as Esme. He wanted time with his four, but Jasper… Jasper might be looking forward to time with his own four as well.
There was a glimmer in Jasper's eye, and Carlisle laughed again. "When do you leave?"
"In the morning, if you approve. Don't worry, Carlisle. I'll take good care of them, and we'll be waiting when you're ready."
Carlisle stood and gave him a hug. "I'm not worried. Take whatever land you want for the cottages. We'll follow when my contract's up at the hospital."
Jasper squeezed his shoulders. "I'm still your second," he said. "We'll be waiting for you."
He left the office, and Carlisle's mind raced with this new information. But it was nothing he could act on. He realized that he needed to hunt before his next shift at the hospital, and the house was suddenly a flurry of packing and boxes and discussions on what to bring and what to leave for later. He escaped to the relative peace of the woods.
He wasn't late. He was never late leaving the hospital these days. Carlisle balanced his briefcase and a box of medical journals in one hand as he pushed the hospital door open. He walked out to the parking lot under the streetlamp where he always parked, to find his Mercedes waiting for him. It was Friday evening, and he was looking forward to a day off.
He started his drive home leisurely, not really knowing what to expect. Jasper would be gone by now, and the freedom that allowed was at once exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Anticipation fluttered in his stomach as he turned onto the private drive. And then he heard it: the opening measures of Scarlatti. His favorite. Edward was playing him home.
He climbed the stairs, remembering so many times in those first years when Edward welcomed him home with his piano and a favorite melody. Opening the door, Carlisle stopped and watched Edward's back as he played. Carlisle would be able to read the emotion of the music on the muscles of Edward's back and arms, even if he couldn't hear it. Edward was such an expressive player; his whole body reflected the music. He was all grace and taut, flowing muscles and gentle hesitations. He was beautiful.
"Welcome home, Carlisle."
Carlisle grinned at being caught admiring. "Thank you," he said, putting down his briefcase and box. "Where is everyone?"
Edward answered as he continued playing. "Jasper and the others left this morning. He called about an hour ago to say they'd already done a review of the property, and had chosen locations for the cottages."
"Excellent," Carlisle said as he separated his mail from the rest of the family's. "And the girls?"
"Conspiring. Or shopping… pretty much the same these days.
Carlisle could hear the smirk in Edward's voice. He was about to ask for details when he saw Edward slide to the left, inviting Carlisle to sit with him, as he had so often before. Carlisle removed his jacket and approached the piano, rolling his sleeves up, like Edward's were. In the past, in the twenties, he would have sat beside Edward, knees tucked under the piano keys, and watch Edward's hands, never daring to look up into his face. Never daring to think of how the sight of Edward's bare forearms affected him, hardly daring to breathe as he watched the boy's fingers dance. But this was not 1920. Last weekend had taught him what Edward meant to him. It had taught him to be bold.
He straddled the piano bench, facing Edward. From this position, he was able to admire everything from Edward's swift fingers to his muscled arms, expressive jaw, and furious hair. Carlisle just watched, appreciating the music and the physicality of Edward's playing. It was such a relief and joy to watch unabashed, hiding none of his reactions.
Edward glanced sideways at him as he played. "Enjoying the view, old man?"
"As a matter of fact, I am," Carlisle said, chuckling. But then humor fell away as he leaned forward and Edward's breath hitched. "I wanted to watch you like this years ago… decades ago," he whispered softly into Edward's ear, watching the reaction as his breath tickled the young man's neck. "Seeing you like this…it's so much a part of who you are. Your passion is so much at the surface. It's wondrous, Edward, humbling. And very…" Carlisle took a deep breath of Edward's warm, intoxicating scent. "Very stimulating."
Carlisle's hand covered Edward's knee, and Carlisle watched as Edward's eyes fell closed and his fingers stumbled. He leaned in closer and whispered into Edward's ear, "Keep playing."
Edward's fingers danced across the keys, and Carlisle's ran along the inside of Edward's knee, causing them both to shiver. Carlisle wrapped his left hand around Edward's hip, and he pulled himself flush against Edward's side, where there'd be no mistaking exactly how affected Carlisle was. Hooking his fingers under Edward's knee, he pulled it up over his own thigh, spreading Edward's legs.
"Fuck, Carlisle," Edward whispered, his fingers faltering for a second and then continuing. He cleared his throat. "I'm going to need that foot for the pedals in a minute."
"Fuck the pedals," Carlisle whispered, dragging fingers up the inside of Edward's thigh, teasing, getting closer and closer to the strain in his pants. "That crescendo has always seemed a bit heavy handed. Just ignore it."
Edward groaned as Carlisle lightly traced his fingers along Edward's zipper, caressing his arousal. "Fuck, I can't do this," Edward whispered, and Carlisle froze. " I can't play Scarlatti while you're touching me. It's too structured, and I'm… I'm…"
Carlisle leaned in and kissed his shoulder, letting out a soft chuckle. "Play whatever you want. Play one of your passionate Russians." Immediately Rachmaninoff was echoing through the room, and Carlisle pressed his entire palm onto Edward's erection. It felt amazing. It felt like should have happened ages ago, and Carlisle enjoyed the pleasure of finally acting on a desire he had harbored for as long as he could remember. Edward bucked into his hand, and Carlisle wanted more. He fingered the button on Edward's pants, unfastening it slowly as Edward threw his head back and concentrated on playing. Carlisle slowly pulled down the zipper, feeling each slight tug as the teeth let loose, and in moments, he was reaching inside Edward's clothing, touching bare, warm, smooth skin, freeing Edward's hard length. Carlisle looked at it for just a moment, overwhelmed with joy at the sight of it in his palm, with the knowledge that this was no longer forbidden; it was desired by both of them. He wrapped his fingers around it stroked gently. A string of whispered expletives fell from Edward's lips as he fought to keep his hips still and his fingers in motion.
Carlisle leaned in to kiss his shoulder again. I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that.
"Carlisle," Edward groaned, his voice thick and needy. The sound went straight to Carlisle cock. It was so delicious to see him this way—barely hanging on, barely able to concentrate for the force of his desire. Barely able to sit and play as his passion for music melded into another more carnal passion. Carlisle quickly licked his palm and rejoiced as Edward's cock slid smoothly in his hand. Edward's groans were growing louder, mingling with the music that was moving from Rachmaninoff to Prokofiev to Chopin. Stumbling, and then resuming when he heard Carlisle's mental, Keep playing. Every emotion Edward felt as he moved toward climax was reflected in the music, and Carlisle kept his strokes even, matching the tempo of the music, knowing that Edward was showing him what he needed through the notes.
He was so beautiful like this. Carlisle hoped he was watching himself through the older man's mind. Hoped he could see himself writhing and arching, bucking into Carlisle's hand as his own hands continued to pour passion into the instrument. His intensity had always been Carlisle's undoing. It had always stripped at his own control, made him want things he thought he shouldn't want. Carlisle moved his left hand from where it gripped Edward's far hip and slid it under the waistband at the small of his back, slipping a finger past the cleft at the top of his ass. Edward swore again and the music became almost frantic improvisation as he rocked his pelvis between Carlisle's two hands, drawing Carlisle's finger down closer to his opening as the other hand pumped his cock. Carlisle could tell he was close, straining. His body was moving in raw and feral waves as his hands continued their relatively civilized journey across the keys. The dichotomy was so quintessentially Edward, it made Carlisle groan with desire, and rock his own pelvis against Edward's hip. Edward's passion had always drawn out Carlisle's own, but this…this was different. Seeing him like this made Carlisle want to possess him completely. He wanted to plunge into Edward everywhere. He felt his finger graze Edward's opening, and that was it. He leaned forward and bit Edward's shoulder and pressed his finger inside.
Dissonant chords surged to crescendo as Edward cried out, and Carlisle felt warm venom gush across his hand. The chords died slowly, shimmering on the air, until finally even their echoes were gone, and the only sound was Edward's harsh breathing as he slumped forward slightly.
"Good God, Carlisle, that was…"
Carlisle wrapped his left arm around Edward, pulling the boy toward his chest and supporting him as he recovered. He raised his right hand to his mouth and licked it clean, closing his eyes and groaning as he savored Edward's flavor. When his eyes opened again, Edward's intense black gaze was upon him, and then Edward was upon him, straddling the bench facing him, mouth demanding, fingers tearing at his clothes. In a moment they were both naked, standing, and Edward was turning away from him, putting his hand on the piano as he leaned forward, offering himself. And God, he was beautiful. Carlisle dragged his fingers down Edward's back, appreciating the muscles of his shoulders and his slim waist and the dimples above his ass. Carlisle let his hands explore Edward's entire back, until the boy was whimpering with need.
"Patience, Edward." Carlisle dragged his fingers from Edward's shoulders to the curve of his ass, delighting in the way that Edward arched into his touch. "I have no intention of rushing. And I won't hurt you. You need to be prepared. I'll run upstairs and get some lubricant—"
"No," Edward interrupted, grabbing at Carlisle's hand. "Don't go. Venom will work. I want your venom."
Carlisle wet his finger and dragged it down Edward's spine, and then wet it again and slipped it into Edward's opening as his other hand continued to explore and caress. Edward rocked back, pushing himself onto Carlisle's hand. More venom and more fingers found Edward writhing and Carlisle wrapped around him, kissing his shoulders, his other arm wrapped around his chest.
"Carlisle, I need you," Edward finally gasped.
Not like this. Carlisle could hardly bear to let go of Edward, feeling his back pressed against his own chest. He could hardly stop kissing his back and shoulders. Could hardly stop running his fingers across Edward's chest. But he knew when he entered Edward, he wanted to see his eyes. And he was dry. He needed to slick himself. He refused to hurt the boy, prepared as he was.
Edward groaned and spun around, quickly kneeling and taking Carlisle's length deep into his mouth.
"Fuck. Oh God, Edward, that feels amazing." Carlisle's head dropped back as he savored the feeling of Edward's lips sliding over his cock, Edward's tongue pressing and swirling, Edward's teeth grazing… Sightlessly, Carlisle reached down to still him. "No, Edward. I don't want to come like this." Carlisle looked down at Edward's lithe, muscular form and wild hair; he looked every bit the Fey creature he'd imagined the boy to be when they first met.
"Just, getting you wet, Carlisle," Edward said, sliding off his cock and looking up through his lashes. "One of the Fey?"
"Oh, God, you have no idea," Carlisle said, stroking his cheekbones. He was so beautiful. Otherworldly and beautiful. Edward had been his passion for so long. And he was ready. He needed this. They both did.
He helped Edward to his feet, and took his hands, and walked him backward toward the piano.
I want you here. Where your passion lies.
"Yes," Edward moaned.
He placed Edwards hands on the piano, on either side of the music stand.
Support your weight.
Carlisle swung Edward's legs up and apart, and Edward scrambled to shift his grip and support the weight of his upper body as Carlisle supported the lower. Carlisle entered Edward, whose body was essentially suspended above the piano keys. He went slowly, delighting in the squeeze of hot, tight flesh the perfect view of Edward: his hard twitching cock, his tight stomach and paned chest, his shoulders, bunching with the effort of holding himself steady above the piano when he clearly wanted to thrash and writhe. His head thrown back in bliss. Carlisle slid forward and then he was in, as far into Edward as he could go. He savored the heat and tension. They were both taut as piano stings, perfectly still as Edward adjusted to the intrusion. And then Edward rolled his hips, and Carlisle groaned, and they began moving together, first tentatively and then faster, until Carlisle was driving into him in a rough, desperate tempo. Everything was tight and warm and slick and Edward, and Carlisle's mind was filled joy and pleasure and the love he'd harbored for nearly a century. He showed Edward image after image of his desire. He looked at Edward's cock and imagined taking it into his mouth — something physically impossible at the moment, but Edward's gift made even imagining it an erotic stimulus. Edward groaned and then leaned forward, eyes fixed on Carlisle's, and Carlisle claimed him. Claimed his mouth, his eyes, his body, his soul. And Edward gave freely, meeting Carlisle's every thrust, every gaze, every heated kiss, until together they came, and collapsed, discordant chords reverberating through the air again as they knocked the keys on their way down. Spent and gasping, they clung to each other on the floor in front of the piano, stroking each other, whispering assurances. They ended with Carlisle above Edward, whose arms were wrapped so tightly around Carlisle's shoulders that it almost hurt, but felt reassuring, and they waited for their breathing to ease.
Finally Edward's grip loosened, and Carlisle's felt the boy's fingers in his hair.
I love you.
"I know," Edward answered, squeezing him again. "I love you, too. It feels so much better getting to show it."
Yes. So much better. Thank you.
Edward laughed, and Carlisle felt it reverberate through his cheek. "No need to thank me for that, Carlisle. That was perfect."
Carlisle sighed and reached his hand up to coil it into Edward's hair. Yes, it was.
They lay together another few minutes, each one's thoughts wrapped in the other, when Carlisle wondered when the girls would be home.
"They arrived a while ago," Edward said.
"What?" Carlisle stiffened, nearly pulling away, but Edward held him fast.
"They didn't want to interrupt. It didn't stop them from watching through the window, though."
Carlisle's eyes widened in surprise. "Are they upset?" Carlisle knew they had all agreed to this, but accepting the abstract idea of it was very different from watching your mates screw each other on a musical instrument.
"No," Edward chuckled. "That's not the word I'd use to describe their thoughts. Agitated, maybe. Or aroused. They've gone to the creek to…assist each other."
Sweet mother of God. Carlisle closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the image of Esme and Bella together…
"Shall we go watch? Turn about is fair play, after all." Edward kissed the top of Carlisle's head, seemingly fully recovered. Carlisle lifted himself off the boy, and noticed the mischief in his eyes.
"We haven't missed it?" he asked, tentative eagerness filtering into his tone, though he admitted to himself they probably wanted privacy.
"Not if we hurry," Edward answered. "I don't think we'll have time to dress, though."
"Oh, that is a shame," Carlisle said with mock seriousness. He wondered if the girls would welcome the intrusion.
"Yes," Edward whispered. "But we have to go now, Carlisle, or we may as well wait for them here."
Carlisle leaned in and gave Edward one final kiss, grateful for the time they'd had alone together, but ready to welcome Esme and Bella.
"Then by all means, let's go find the girls."
AN. Well, StormDragonfly now tells me I have to write at least one more chapter; I can't tease like that and then never follow through. I suppose if I must…