Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things Twilight-related. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: I found out the other day that PFach is going to be signing autographs in a mall roughly thirty minutes down the road from me in April…and because of prior commitments, I can't go. I tried to console myself by writing a little Carlisle smut. At least that was the plan. This is what happened instead. It is intended to be just a one-shot.

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I race across the land, thrilling at the exhilarated rush of wind in my face as I push myself to the edge of my enhanced abilities. Here, alone, I can be free, my thoughts and actions no longer constrained by the chains of propriety and obligation. Here, I can bask in the overwhelming desire I hide day after day, emotions that would bring my carefully balanced life – and all those who share it with me – crashing to the ground. I am a doctor, a husband, a father figure, a respected member of the community…but that doesn't mean I'm immune to the most damnable of all emotions: lust.

Veering sharply to the west, I follow the scent I've been tracking for hours. I close in fast, picking my prey easily from the herd. I am hungry, so very, very hungry in more ways than one, but all I can do is gorge myself on the four caribou I take down, content in knowing that at least one need has been slaked.

A trickle of blood slides from my lips as I lift my head, scenting the air. I ignore the urge to lap at the stray drop, allowing it to tickle its way down my neck, past the collar of my shirt, burying itself in the wilds of my chest hair. The leftover metallic taste in my mouth stirs my body to life, as it always does. Ignoring the carnage that surrounds me, I strip, exposing my aching sex to the cool autumn twilight. It twitches once, twice…craving the same delectable fantasy I keep hidden in the darkest recesses of my mind, and I am powerless to resist.

Crouching against the nearest carcass, my back stretched over its ribcage and my legs spread wide, I allow the dying warmth of the animal's body to stimulate me. She would feel as warm, I think. No, definitely warmer. A minute shudder ripples through me, and I arch into it, relishing in the sweet thread of pleasure that shoots straight to my cock, making me groan. Slowly, I begin thrusting my hips into the cool air, the movements shallow and barely noticeable. She is so fragile; I must take great care.

My hands wander the expanse of my chest, and I smile at her reticence. She's never been touched like this before, certainly not by the man who holds claim to her heart. My fingers are long and patient and gentle… oh, so very gentle. All the secret joys of her body will be revealed, joys beyond her wildest dreams – they cannot hide from me. Neither can she as I pointedly tip her chin up, forcing our gazes to meet. She is so beautiful, such a rare and precious gift. The blush that colors her cheeks is unbearably endearing. Tonight she will be mine.

I gasp as a deep quiver of pleasure rolls through my core, causing me to thrust with a little more determination. She likes this. Any fear she might have had has evaporated under my skillful touch. Her eyes are wide with astonishment, her tiny frame shaking with need and wonder. Smiling, my hands grow bolder, caressing heated flesh up and down…in and out, spreading the slippery wetness I find there onto my own lips. It is manna for my hungry soul, and I need more. Much, much more.

She whimpers when I pull her close, feasting on those sumptuous lips, showing her what it's like to be truly and thoroughly kissed, quite possibly for the first time in her life. No one else kisses her like this. I've seen the eager glances she gives her love, only to have her hopes crushed time after time when he maintains his distance. All he does is dance around her, giving her false hope, and subsequently turning a blind eye to the obvious pain she feels when her hopeful grasps encounter nothing but thin air. She deserves better.

The scent of her arousal overwhelms me, makes me shudder and throb. My tongue paints a trail along her neck, moving down…all the way to the very jewel of her desire. None have cherished her as I am about to; none have heard her harsh, breathy pants or felt her desperation as she writhes against my mouth. This is a dance she does for me alone, and I guide her through the steps again and again, marveling at the beautiful song of her passion.

Growling deep in my throat, I thrust forcefully into my hand, my grip bordering on being painful. She is this tight. Virginal. I am mindful, though, gentling my touch as I claim her innocence. Her tears don't last long; I calm her with quiet whispers before rolling my hips and slowly making love to her.

Her quiet cries make me smile. We explore each other at length, touching and nipping and laughing while our bodies continue to love each other intimately. She is an absolute joy to have and hold, so giving and pure; she holds nothing back, allowing me to see all the amazement and pleasure she is experiencing. Wrapping my hands in her gorgeous locks, I kiss her soundly, swallowing her delirious moans.

My whole body shakes as I plunge in and out, not trying in the least to quell the rapturous sounds that escape me. I'm so close to release, that pure, incendiary moment of nirvana…I want her to be there with me. Reaching between us, I trap her tiny bud against the slide of my cock and rock my hips just so. Her startled scream is electrifying, making me dizzy with delight until I feel her begin to convulse in earnest, milking my member as she climaxes in complete silence, that sweet mouth of hers opened wide in awe.

I come forcefully only moments later, shaking and howling my passion to the night. My hand continues to stroke my aching cock long after I've spent myself, waves of sorrow replacing the erotic high. Tears well in my eyes as shame floods me. She will never be mine. Those beautiful, soulful eyes will never look at me with the same tenderness they offer my son. My son.

The sharp snap of a branch causes venom to surge through my system. My head snaps up, and I quickly scan my surroundings, my gaze falling upon a tall shadowy figure leaning against a nearby tree. Reeling, I sag dumbly against the dead caribou, releasing my flaccid member while my ejaculate slowly trails down my chest. A soft sob escapes my lips. I don't need a light source to identify my visitor; the contempt and loathing I see in his golden eyes is enough.


(~ * ~finis~ * ~)

Solus Ipse is a Latin phrase meaning "I alone."