Five Nights

A/N: Ok, so this is just a random story that came to me. The quote in the summary is actually what came to me and I built the story around that. It's also written in third person because I thought that style would fit it best. I don't write in third person much so it was a bit tricky! Anyway, hope you like it!

~The Seduction: Monday~

Edward Masen pushed his hands deep into his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the cold.

The icy wind tugged his bronze-coloured hair back and forth across his brow until it began to annoy him a bit, and he pulled his woolly hat out of his pocket and shoved it on.

It was always especially cold at this time of night, and with the night buses being so few and far between, he usually just walked home after his shift at Shoreditch Grind. It was a twenty minute walk but he preferred that a lot more than standing at the bus stop for twenty minutes instead, freezing his balls off.

He'd been rather unprepared for the cold in London, only bringing with him mostly long sleeved t shirts, very few jumpers, and only one jacket – a leather one at that. So he'd had to buy some more jumpers, along with a woolly hat and scarf, and a much warmer jacket. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten gloves.

He'd heard it rained a lot in London, yes. But no one had warned him about how bloody freezing – as his housemate put it – it could also get.

It was mid November, which meant that Thanksgiving would be coming up soon, and thinking about that made him a tad homesick. The Brits didn't celebrate Thanksgiving, of course, so he couldn't even fly home for it because there was still school.

He was enjoying it in London, however.

He'd gone there to study at University College London, because he wanted to spend some time away from home, to see and experience life in a different part of the world. And why he chose London to do that? He had no idea.

It was expensive, living there. His parents had given him quite a substantial amount of spending money, and he'd emptied out his savings too, but transportation alone was already making a dent in that. And then he still had his rent and utilities and food and entertainment to fund.

So he'd got a job at Shoreditch Grind, a tiny coffee shop located in Old Street, situated practically just outside the station.

He'd found a flat in Angel, Islington via his University's accommodation website, and he shared it with three housemates: another guy called, Ben, and two girls, Leah and Angela. They also studied at UCL.

Edward was about fifteen minutes away from home now. He'd started work at six in the evening and finished at midnight – same as he did every Monday and Tuesday.

It was a Monday night.

"Excuse me, you got a lighter I could borrow?"

Slightly startled, Edward looked up and to his right – to find there was a man walking beside him.

The man was… pale. Very pale, actually, his pallor so striking that that was the very first thing Edward noticed about him.

And he guessed him to be in his mid to late twenties, maybe a bit older.

The second thing Edward noticed was that the man was extremely good looking. In fact, he was as handsome as he was pale, with a perfectly symmetrical face, strong, angular jaw line and slightly full, pink lips. His blond hair was tousled, also being tossed about by the wind, and it shone, golden, every time a source of light hit it.

The man's eyes, Edward saw when he glanced at them, were very, very blue – a deep sapphire colour.

Who the heck has eyes that colour? Edward thought. Maybe they're contacts?

Out loud he said to the man, "Um... no. I mean, uh, sorry, I don't smoke."

The man smiled, revealing his straight, gleaming white teeth. "No problem," he said. "I shouldn't be smoking anyway. Terrible habit."

It was strange how the man had seemed to just… appear. Edward hadn't heard any footsteps, hadn't seen anybody walking beside him from the corner of his eye – and then, suddenly, there this man was, keeping up with his brisk pace effortlessly.

"Um, yeah, it is."

The man turned to look at Edward as they walked on – still smiling. "You're American," he stated.

Edward nodded. "Uh huh."

The man nodded, too. "Thought so," he muttered, to no one in particular, really. And then to Edward, he asked, "You on your way home?"

"Yeah. Just finished work."

"Where do you work?"

Edward glanced at the man sideways with a frown. He wasn't sure how to answer. It was a very invasive question for a guy he'd just met to ask. And in honesty, the question freaked him out a bit. He answered, deliberately vague, "Uh… At a coffee shop."

The man simply nodded.

They walked on in silence, and Edward, now feeling creeped out by the strange, handsome man, began to walk faster.

The man's strides, however, continued to match his.

"I'm Carlisle," he said suddenly, after a while.

I didn't ask, Edward thought, but he nodded anyway. "I'm... Edward."

"Edward," Carlisle repeated, turning to look at him again. Edward saw him smile out of the corner of his eye. "I don't hear that name much anymore."

"It was my dad's name."


Edward nodded. "Yeah. He died a few years ago."

"I'm very sorry to hear that."

Edward just nodded again.

He wasn't unaware of the fact that he was getting close to home and yet, Carlisle was still walking with him. For some reason the guy made him feel uneasy. He didn't want him to know where he lived.

"Well, Edward, this is where we part ways."

Edward glanced at him.

And immediately regretted doing so.

Because Carlisle was looking back at him, and those ridiculously blue eyes of his became Edward's only focus – he just simply couldn't look away.

His brain started to fuzz.

"I'm gonna hop on a night bus from here," he heard Carlisle say. "It was nice to meet you."

Edward couldn't remember whether he said goodbye to the man or not, but about a minute later, when his brain had finally unscrambled itself, he realised he was gone.

And then, when he glanced around, dazed and confused, he saw that he was suddenly standing right before the front door of his flat.

He couldn't remember how he got there, either.

~The Proposition: Monday, a week later~

Edward's eyes widened as the tall blond man took a seat on a stool at the other end of the counter.

It was him.


Carlisle. His name alone was odd.

Edward was... afraid of the man. He was unsure exactly what it was about him that brought up a knot of dread in the pit of his stomach, but nevertheless, the guy creeped him out to the max.

And intrigued simultaneously.

Because, you see, Edward had dreamed of Carlisle. He'd dreamed about him seven nights in a row. The first night being last Monday when he'd first met the man.

In the dream, Edward was walking home from work on a cold night, an extremely cold night actually, a night where snow was lightly falling around him and was crunching under his feet. Carlisle appeared beside him in the dream – just as he had in real life, it seemed – his pale skin almost silver in the moonlight, against the white of the snow.

In the dream, Edward looked into Carlisle's blue eyes and found himself unable to look away, lost in them, like there was a force in those eyes dragging him, mind and body into the man. And Edward wanted to fight the force, he honestly did, but he didn't fight it, because at the same time, he... wanted it.

He let Carlisle's mesmerizing eyes take him until he was falling, falling down... he wasn't sure where, but when he landed it was on a bed, a large, soft white bed.

And then, as he lay on the bed, taking in his surroundings, Carlisle appeared again before him, standing shirtless – or maybe it was fully naked, he couldn't tell. And the man placed his hands on either side of Edward's face, his eyes once again boring into his, bright and blue.

In the dream, Edward shuddered, thinking how cold Carlisle's fingers were; they were like he'd been holding the snow in his palms without gloves… yet he liked the coldness of his touch. Wanted it, even.

And then, the strangest part of the dream? Carlisle would lean down and kiss Edward.

On his throat.

When Edward awoke from the dream each night he found himself aroused, his erection throbbing and sensitive, like he'd had it for a long while.

Edward couldn't understand why he kept dreaming of this strange, creepy man, and especially in that way. He wasn't gay, as far as he knew. He'd had a few girlfriends. Lost his virginity to one of them at seventeen, and had never once had erotic thoughts or dreams about men.

"Ed? A customer needs serving, babe."

His manager, a girl called, Susan, lightly nudged him.

He hadn't realized he'd drifted off.

"Oh, sorry. Which one?"

When Susan gestured in Carlisle's direction with an empty coffee cup, Edward almost winced. And yet, at the same time his feet were moving over to the other end of the counter as if of their own accord.

They paused right before Carlisle.

Edward avoided the man's gaze. His face was hot with embarrassment, the dream vividly flooding back into his mind's eye.

"What can I get you?"

He heard Carlisle's smile in his voice. "You've forgotten me already? I'm offended."

Slowly, he raised his eyes up from his notepad –

And knew he wouldn't be able to look down again.

So blue, Carlisle's eyes were. So… enchanting.

Carlisle was still smiling. "I'm the guy who annoyed you on your way home last week. Remember?"

Edward blinked at him. "I remember…"

His voice sounded strange to himself. Thick, as if he'd just woken up from a nap.

"I'm glad you do," Carlisle answered, his gaze still fixed on Edward's.

There was a moment in which they simply stared into each other's eyes, the moment so brief that to someone looking in on their exchange, it would have been five seconds at most – but it felt like eons to Edward.

Carlisle was the first to break the eye contact. He had to be, anyway, Edward was helpless against those eyes.

Edward shook his head. Frowned. "I'm... I'm sorry," he muttered. "Uh, what can I get you?"

Carlisle placed his elbows on the counter, effectively leaning forward until his face was a little too close for Edward's comfort. Still, Edward didn't back away...

"I'd like to…" Carlisle paused, and seemed to think about his words carefully. "I'd like to take you out somewehere." He smiled. "Dinner. A film. Maybe both?"

Edward felt his face blossoming fiery heat. His eyes widened. "Uh, that's really, uh, nice of you to ask but I, uh, I'm sorry I'm not – I mean, I like… women."

Carlisle chuckled. "So do I. I'm not sure what that has to do with what I asked you, though..."

Edward's face stayed burning. He was suddenly speechless.

"I'll tell you what," Carlisle said with a soft smile. "How about I leave my card with you." – He placed a small, white rectangular card on the counter between them. – "And let you think about it. I can see you're getting a bit… flustered."

It was impossible that Edward could blush any harder, right?


"And when you've thought about it," Carlisle continued. "You can either give me a call or just throw the card away."

Edward would definitely not be going on a date with this man. In fact, as soon as the guy left he was going to toss the card in the bin.

So he wasn't sure why he was nodding...

"Good." Carlisle's eyes met his again – his expression suddenly serious. "I'm really hoping to hear from you, Edward."

~The First Night: Wednesday~

Edward still couldn't fathom what he was doing there, standing before the doors of the restaurant. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his black dress trousers, his fingers fiddling with the white rectangular piece of card.

The one he hadn't thrown away.

He took a deep breath as he peered through the glass windows. Carlisle was already in there, he knew not because he could see him, but because Carlisle had told him to meet him at Mango Tree restaurant at seven pm. And it was now seven-ten.

Edward knew he was being rude, being late to a date and not even bothering to call and let the other person know, but he'd actually arrived at the restaurant at seven sharp. He'd just been standing before the doors wondering what on earth he was actually doing there for ten minutes.

He took one of his hands out of his pocket and raked his fingers through his thick hair – a nervous habit.

Then he finally pushed the door to the restaurant open and walked over to the hostess at the front counter.

"Uh, hi, I'm under a reservation?"

The woman nodded and smiled. "Can I take your name, sir?"

"Edward. I mean, uh, Edward Masen."

"Right this way, sir."

She motioned for him to follow her so he did. He followed her all the way to the back of the restaurant, to the part where it was atmospheric and secluded, all lit up with candles and soft glow lights, and then to a small table for two, located in an even more isolated corner of the area.

Carlisle was already sitting there, a smile on his unbelievably handsome, pale face.

The hostess gestured for Edward to take the seat opposite him, and then laid the menus down on the table before them.

"I'll give you some time to decide on your meal and then I'll send someone over to take your order. Anything to drink?"

"We'll take a bottle of your finest red," Carlisle answered her.

The hostess glanced over at Edward with a slight frown. "Do you have any I.D. sir? I apologise, but I do have to ask anyone who looks under twenty one."

"Oh, yeah, sure." Edward stood up again and pulled his passport out from his back pocket.

He had learnt pretty quickly that he would need to carry his passport with him when going to bars and clubs or going to buy alcohol. It was great to actually be legally allowed to drink and buy alcohol in London, but they were very strict on their I.D. policy. He'd been refused entry into a few places when he'd forgotten his I.D.

The hostess nodded as she looked at his passport then handed it back to him with a smile.

After she left Carlisle grinned. "She didn't think you looked old enough to drink."

Edward stared at the table between them. His face started to flush for no apparent reason. Or maybe it was the sound of Carlisle's voice. The voice he'd heard in his dream the night before – a dream he'd woken up from with soiled boxers.

"I know," he murmured. "I get that a lot over here."

"So how old are you, exactly?" Carlisle asked.

"I'm eighteen."

Carlisle nodded.

There was silence for a few minutes, then, just as he looked like he was about to say something else a waitress appeared with the wine and two glasses.

After she placed the things on the table and left, Edward realized he was still being rude.

He glanced up from the table and looked at Carlisle – just below his eyes. "I'm really sorry I was late. I, uh, got… caught in traffic."

Carlisle smiled a knowing smile. "It's alright."

It was actually not that bad, the dinner with Carlisle, Edward thought. He managed to hold a conversation with the guy, and because he avoided looking directly into his eyes he didn't have that brain scrambling going on.

Avoiding Carlisle's eyes, however, meant that he had to look at other parts of his face.

At his mouth, for example.

Because Carlisle's lips were pale pink, and smooth and soft looking. Whenever he brought attention to his mouth by lifting his wine glass up to take a sip, or dabbing at the corners of his lips with a napkin Edward couldn't stop staring at it.

After dinner they took a walk along the South Bank, taking in the brightly lit London skyline. It was another chilly night, the fallen leaves crunchy with frost under their feet as they walked close together, their shoulders bumping every so often.

"Tell me something," Carlisle said, turning to look at Edward as they strolled. "What were you thinking about during dinner…?" He grinned. "When you kept staring at my mouth."

Of course, talk of his mouth only made Edward's eyes wander back down to it, and he was glad it was too dark for Carlisle to spot yet another blush.

"Your blush is adorable," Carlisle said.

Or maybe not.

Edward didn't answer the question and they walked on in complete silence. He hoped Carlisle had forgotten he'd asked.

Wasn't counting on it, though.

"So you're not gonna answer me, eh?" Carlisle laughed. "It's ok. Maybe I just like saying things that I know will make this," – he poked at Edward's still flaming red cheek with his index finger – "happen."

After a few more minutes of walking, Carlisle wandered over to the railing that looked out onto the river Thames. He stopped there and leaned his forearms on it. Edward followed him.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" He asked, staring out at the London skyline. "How are you liking it over here so far?"

Edward nodded. "Yeah. It's great. I'm really enjoying it."

Carlisle turned to look at him then. Edward could feel his blue gaze immediately. It was like a strong magnetic force, almost tangible.

It was involuntary that Edward looked back at him.

Carlisle simply stared at him for long moment, his face expressionless. And Edward just… stared back.

"I don't live here," he finally said. "In London, I mean."

Edward's brain had begun fuzzing again, so it was difficult for him to process what Carlisle was saying. "What?"

Carlisle sighed and broke their eye contact, turning to look at the skyline again.

Edward's brain cleared.

"I said, I don't live in London. I'm just here for a bit. On business…"

"Oh," Edward said. And for some reason that news disappointed him. "Where do you live?"

Carlisle seemed to be lost in thought. "Up north," he answered vaguely. "I'm originally from London, though. Born and raised."

"Oh," was all Edward said again.

Carlisle turned towards Edward again but this time he avoided his eyes. "I'm only here for five more nights," he said. "Including this one."

Edward nodded, unable to speak again. It was so strange this feeling of… sadness? He didn't even know the man.

"I'd like you to spend those five nights with me, Edward," Carlisle said to him. "Would you?"

There was no hesitation as Edward replied, "Ok."

~The Second Night: Thursday~

On the second night, they went to a bar.

They sat next to each other, their thighs pressed together, their faces only inches apart whenever they turned their heads.

The bar was noisy, with loud indie music and even louder chatter, so there wasn't much conversation between the two. Edward, however, was content just being close to the man. The scent of his perfume was like nothing he'd ever smelt before: sweet yet not feminine, strong yet not overbearing, obviously a cologne but smelling very natural, like it was Carlisle's own scent emanating from his skin.

Edward couldn't help inhaling deeply every once in a while.

Carlisle leaned over to whisper in his ear, his perfect pink lips lightly brushing against the shell. "You like the way I smell?"

Of course Edward could only flush in response. Because Carlisle had obviously caught him sniffing at him. He thought he was being subtle about it.

Carlisle groaned softly into his ear. Then Edward felt the tip of his nose travelling down the side of his neck. Felt Carlisle inhale against his skin. It gave him goosebumps, made him shudder in response.

"I like the way you smell too," Carlisle whispered.

And then he leaned away.

Edward felt heat rushing towards his groin. His erection pushed visibly against the fabric at the crotch of his trousers, and he had to shift his lap forward a bit so he could hide it under the table.

The way Carlisle looked at him, though, knowing, half smiling…

Edward was almost sure he'd seen it.

He was pretty sure when he felt Carlisle's hand squeeze his thigh, and then his fingers trailing across it and over to his crotch.

He was even more certain when he felt one of Carlisle's fingers trace along the length of his erection, causing him to gasp and thrust his hips against it under the table.

He was absolutely certain when Carlisle turned to look at him, his face so close it made his features blur, and grasped Edward's length through the fabric at the same moment he pushed his soft mouth to his, muffling Edward's loud groan.

~The Third Night: Friday~

Their third date was spent at the movies.

Carlisle tugged Edward to the seats at the very back of the cinema, hidden in the darkness.

The film they went to watch was an action packed one, full of explosions and fight scenes and car chases.

But that was all Edward could tell you if you'd asked him what the film had been about.

Because for most of it his eyes were closed, his mouth was pressed against Carlisle's, their tongues intertwined.

And Edward was glad for the various loud explosions in the film – they hid his groans when Carlisle's hands fondled him below the waist.

~The Fourth Night: Saturday~

They'd been in the club for about an hour.

And had been in a private VIP section of the club for about forty minutes of that hour.

Edward braced himself against a wall, his fingers tightening in Carlisle's golden hair as he got closer to his orgasm.

Carlisle's hands held on to his thighs as the man took Edward all the way to the back of his throat and then out to the very edge of his mouth, where his tongue teased the tip of his shaft.

Edward had never had a blow job so mind-blowing before. In fact, he'd only ever had one blow job in the past, and it had been mediocre at best. This one however?

"Oh, shit," he breathed, his eyes rolling back into his head.

He hadn't come already for only one reason: he'd been holding it, wanting to make the extraordinarily pleasurable feeling last as long as possible.

It wasn't easy. Every time he pushed his hips forward into Carlisle's mouth and felt himself hit the back of his throat, or Carlisle's tongue licked along the slit at the end of his cock he felt like he'd swallowed a live wire – his balls tightening with the imminent explosion.

Carlisle helped though, breaking his sucking and teasing rhythm whenever he felt Edward's fingers desperately gripping his hair, or he felt Edward's legs starting to give way under his hands. A few times he'd even stopped altogether and stood up, capturing Edward's mouth in a fervent kiss, before getting back down on his knees a few minutes later and resuming the blow job.

Now, however, it seemed as if Carlisle wanted Edward to orgasm. Because no matter how hard Edward pulled on his hair, or how much Edward's legs trembled he didn't stop sucking. In fact, he sucked harder and faster.

And when Edward finally came, Carlisle continued his rhythm, not even faltering as Edward spilled down his throat.

Edward was panting, eyes closed, slumped against the wall when Carlisle stood up, grabbed his face in his palms and kissed him softly on his lips.

"You're beautiful," he muttered, his lips moving down from Edward's face, to his jaw, and then his neck. "Gorgeous..."

Edward was thankful his orgasm had left him flushed, so when his face grew hot again at Carlisle's words, it wasn't noticeable.

Or so he thought...

He felt Carlisle's lips curve into a smile against his skin.

~The Fifth Night: Sunday~

Edward met Carlisle in the reception area of his hotel.

Carlisle had asked him to meet him there for their date and he had no idea what that meant. Where were they going tonight? Or were they staying in?

Carlisle greeted Edward with a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Hi," he said with a smile.

"Hi," Edward responded, already feeling stirrings in his abdomen from the quick, chaste kiss.

"I thought we could stay in tonight," Carlisle said, and when Edward's eyes widened he quickly tacked on, "Only if you want to, of course."

And Edward did want to. He didn't know what staying in with Carlisle would entail but he just didn't care. He wanted to be around the man so much it now almost ached to walk away from him at the end of their dates.

He tried to ignore the nagging reminder at the back of his mind, the one that kept telling him that this was their last one.

He didn't know what was going on. Did the fact that he liked a man and had done some sexual acts with him mean that he was gay? Was his life all these years a lie? Did he not, in fact, like women like he thought he did? Or maybe, he liked men and women?

Carlisle motioned for Edward to follow him and they made their way over to the lifts.

Carlisle's hotel room was incredible. It actually wasn't a room at all, but a suite – a suite that was bigger than Edward's flat.

Edward wandered around it, exploring. He looked around the living room with the plasma TV attached to the wall, and the black leather sofas with the glass coffee table before them. He took in the open plan kitchen area, all stainless steel appliances glistening under spotlights on pristine, granite countertops. He peeked into the bathroom, with the turquoise-coloured mosaic inspired tiles, big round bathtub and a separate shower that looked big enough for four.

And then he opened the door to the bedroom –

And froze when his eyes landed on the huge, white bed in the centre of it.

The bed, the whole room, actually, felt familiar, very familiar. Though, of course, Edward had never been in the hotel before so how was that possible?

Carlisle's breath at the side of his neck distracted him for a few seconds. Carlisle's lower body, pressed up against his arse, jumbled his thoughts so he had to shake his head a bit. But then Carlisle's lips, which began peppering kisses against the side of Edward's throat, took his attention away from the room completely.

Carlisle whirled him around so their front lower halves now pressed together. And Edward eyes hooded, his lips parted as his breathing quickened when he felt Carlisle's erection, stiff and sizeable pressing against his own.

Carlisle blue eyes met his – also heavy lidded. He reached a hand up to Edward's cheek, stroking his skin there with the back of his fingers.

And although Edward's brain had fogged up the moment Carlisle had looked him in the eyes, he still registered the feel of Carlisle's hand.

Cold. Like he'd been holding snow without gloves...

Edward shuddered involuntarily.

"Come," he heard Carlisle whisper.

And he felt himself being led, felt Carlisle's cold hand holding one of his as he pulled him into the oddly familiar bedroom, heard the door click close behind them.

"Sit down," Carlisle whispered. His voice sounded hollow, echoic, like he was talking to Edward through a long tunnel – a dark tunnel that Edward could see nothing in, nothing but the sapphire blue that was Carlisle's eyes.

Edward sat on the edge of the bed.

Carlisle kneeled before him, and, without breaking their eye contact, he began to undress Edward. His fingers were deft as he unbuttoned Edward's shirt, pulled off his shoes and socks, undid his belt and unzipped his trousers, pulled down his boxer briefs.

He stood then, and took Edward's hand, gently pulling Edward back up to a stand.

Edward hazily noticed Carlisle brushing his hair back. Felt Carlisle's cold hands running across parts of his body. Heard the echo of Carlisle's voice when he muttered, "beautiful."

Carlisle pushed him back against the bed. "Lie down," he murmured. "On your back."

Edward did as he asked.

And then, a blink later it seemed, Carlisle was naked before him, standing at the end of the bed – eyes never leaving Edward's. His pale skin seemed to shimmer, the muscles across his abs and chest and arms well defined. His body was like a sculpture, perfectly carved in some sort of strange, shimmering stone.

Carlisle finally broke their eye contact.

Edward blinked, eyes darting around, chest heaving like he'd been under water and had just resurfaced for air, like he'd been on the blink of drowning and had been resuscitated just in time.

When his now clear eyes and brain took in Carlisle's naked form, he gasped.

His eyes were slow in their descent of Carlisle's body, taking in the pale perfection of it with both awe and... familiarity?

Until he got to his hips.

Where Carlisle's arousal jutted out, standing solid and stiff. It wasn't a dark pink, as if it were flushed with blood, but equally pale, like the rest of Carlisle's skin.

Edward's breathing didn't slow down.

He saw, when he glanced down at his own body, that he too was naked, and that his own erection was engorged – a flushed weight lying on his thigh.

Edward didn't know how he'd gotten that way, naked and aroused on Carlisle's bed, but for some reason it didn't bother him. Just like how he knew what was going to happen between him and Carlisle now, and that didn't bother him either.

In fact, he wanted it.

Edward blinked.

And Carlisle was suddenly above and between his thighs on the bed, the palms of his hands resting on either side of Edward's hips.

Slowly, his hand reached up to grasp Edward's thigh, fingers only inches away from the hard length that rested there, and he lifted the lower half of Edward's body off the bed, moving closer so his erection lightly nudged him.

Edward was completely still. Oddly, he wasn't afraid – the stillness was a result of anticipation.

Carlisle's gaze stayed on Edward's lower body for a while, his cold hands absently stroking the skin there, back and forth.

And then he lifted his eyes to Edward's...

And Edward's mind started to haze, like a fog was suddenly hovering, clouding his brain –

"Shit." Carlisle's voice had that echo to it again. "Close your eyes."

When Edward did as he asked, instantly his mind cleared.

Carlisle sighed. "Don't open your eyes, alright?"


"Because..." Carlisle paused. "Because you'll enjoy it better that way." His hand moved to Edward's inner thigh, and then lower. Edward groaned when his hand cupped his balls and lightly squeezed, the sensation heightened because he couldn't see what he was doing. "See?" Carlisle murmured.

Edward groaned again in response.

He felt Carlisle's weight shift away for a brief moment, and then he was back again, his hand drifting lower, beneath Edward's balls now.

"I can't promise it won't hurt a bit," he said, as his fingers – even cooler now, and wet, sort of slippery, lightly stroked Edward's back passage. "But I'll be as gentle as I can. Ok?"

Edward nodded. His hips were already squirming with each caress of Carlisle's cool finger.

And when Carlisle inserted a finger inside him it felt... strange. Strange, but not in a bad way.

It was only when Carlisle pushed three digits into Edward that the pain he had warned him about began to make itself known. It wasn't unbearable though, especially as Carlisle's long fingers would touch something inside him when the pain was just verging on becoming too uncomfortable, something that caused Edward's body to break out all over in pleasure induced goosebumps.

And then, when Carlisle removed his fingers and pushed his cock into Edward in one quick stroke, Edward almost screamed at the sensation. Yes, it hurt, it hurt a lot but that pain was overruled – or maybe it was just intermingled – by an outstanding pleasure, one that came from deep inside of him, triggered by Carlisle's hard length.

It was overwhelming.

Edward couldn't resist grabbing his cock as Carlisle drove into him over and over – gentle, yet simultaneously vigorous. He squeezed himself, stroking in time with Carlisle's hard thrusts, his face screwed up in pain? Pleasure? He couldn't tell. They were one and the same now, a glorious amalgamation of sensation. Sensation that continued to grow, and spread, and increase in intensity until Edward actually couldn't breathe.

As he hyperventilated, trying to catch his breath, becoming lightheaded in the process, he knew that he should probably ask Carlisle to stop, or to at least slow down a bit so he could catch his breath – but he didn't want to. The sex was an addictive drug, and the more Carlisle thrust into him, the harder and more aggressive his thrusts became, the more Edward wanted it, needed it.

And when Edward came it wasn't after a slow build, like his usual orgasms. It was an unexpected burst, as if his cock had literally exploded – but exploded in a most blissful way. He came so hard and so much, traces of his ejaculate ended up in his hair.

And then, the light-headedness finally defeated him.

And he passed out.

/ \

Carlisle watched the unconscious boy. His skin was still flushed, though his chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm now.

He was beautiful, Carlisle thought once again. Young and full of life.

But no longer innocent.

Oh no, Carlisle had taken that away from the boy when he'd fucked him into unconsciousness, and for what? Because he didn't even steal his soul, like he was supposed to.

Instead, he told the boy to close his eyes, so he wouldn't be able to take it.


Carlisle was unsure whether incubi could fall in love, but whatever he was feeling for this boy now... well, it seemed pretty close to the descriptions of love he'd read about in romance novels.

Which was probably why he'd been unable to do it. Unable to steal the boy's soul.

The sex, however, knocked the boy out anyway, for that was the way it worked with incubi and succubi. Carlisle was supposed to be gone when the boy awoke, and the boy was not supposed to remember a thing about the encounter after his soul had been taken – only, of course, that wouldn't be the case here, seeing as he hadn't taken his soul.

But Carlisle should leave anyway. Dress the boy and place him on a park bench or something so he wouldn't go asking questions about him to the hotel staff after he'd disappeared.

But he didn't want to. He couldn't it seemed.

Instead, he went into the bathroom and ran a warm bath. And then he lifted the boy's unconscious form gently and carried him in there. This wouldn't wake him. He wasn't due to snap out of his unconsciousness for another hour.

Carlisle sat behind the boy in the bathtub, using his own body to prop him up as he washed him, gently running a flannel over his soft skin, brushing his bronze hair back from his brow.

He was indeed beautiful, this boy, his hair thick and baby soft. His face was that of a boy slowly maturing into manhood. He still had innocence in his striking green eyes, he blushed often, but his jaw line was starting to take on a squared shape, and Carlisle could even see a hint of stubble across his chin. His body was slim, yet Carlisle could see evidence of solid musculature under his skin, even in the boy's relaxed state.

And then of course, there were his privates, which were very much that of a man.

Carlisle tried not to think about it as he washed the boy there, tried not to think about the taste of the boy in his mouth, the feel of the boy's heavy length in his palm, the tightness of the boy as he plunged into him...

When Carlisle grew hard, his arousal pressing against the unconscious boy's back, he grimaced.

The boy hadn't been a complete virgin, Carlisle knew. He'd had sex with a female before. Only one, Carlisle could tell, and it hadn't been more than five times. The boy's back passage, however, had never once been violated, not even with a single finger.

That was different now.

Carlisle tried to ignore his erection and his guilt as he scooped the boy in his arms again, wrapped a towel around him and carried him back to the bed.

/ \

When Edward woke up, he felt... sore.

But fantastic too, like he'd been given a dose of energy pumped directly into his blood stream.

He smiled when he saw Carlisle in the bed next to him.

Frowned when the man didn't return his smile. Or look directly at him.

Edward swallowed. "Is something wrong?"

Carlisle pushed the duvet off his body and got out of the bed. Edward watched as he paced over to the wardrobe and threw it open.

"I have to pack," he said. "I'm leaving in the morning."

Edward was lost for words for a moment.


Carlisle turned around to face him, still stark naked, though his cock was flaccid now, hanging down his thigh.

"I'm leaving in the morning," he repeated. "You should probably go."

The words were like glass shards being flung in Edward's face. He winced.

"I don't want you to go," he whispered.

/ \

Carlisle turned away again, closing his eyes against the words. He didn't want to go either. But what future could there be with this boy? Carlisle was an incubus. He couldn't be out in sunlight. He needed to drain the soul of mortals to stay 'alive'. He travelled all around England doing this, never staying in one place too long so his strange activities wouldn't be detected.

"I have to." His voice was an unintentional whisper. "I was only here on business."

"Ok." The boy also got out of the bed. Carlisle felt his body heat hovering somewhere behind him. "Where do you live? I'll go with you. I can just transfer to another college, it's not a big –"

"Edward," Carlisle interrupted. "This was only supposed to be for five nights."

"I know." The boy sounded on the verge of tears. Carlisle couldn't bear to look at him. "I know, it was meant to be only five nights. And... and this probably sounds crazy to you but... I mean, it doesn't make any sense to me either..."

Carlisle felt the boy's warm hand on his arm.

"But... this can't be it. I can't just... leave and never see you again..."

"You don't even know me, Edward. It's only been five nights for God's sake."

"I know. And that's the crazy thing. Five nights and I... I think I'm in love with you."

Carlisle closed his eyes again – tighter this time. He sighed, still unable to turn and look at the boy. "You're not in love with me, Edward. You're just under my spell."

There was a pause, and then the boy said, "What do you mean by that?"

And Carlisle knew what he had to do. He knew that this was the only way he'd be able to leave the boy. Because right now, the pleading in Edward's voice, the inviting touch of his warm hand, Edward's declaration of love... there was no way he could leave that.

He had no choice.

He turned around and faced the boy, his eyes meeting his.

Edward's green gaze stared back at him – instantly blank.

"I'm an incubus, Edward. I seduced you for five nights so I could receive pleasure from your body and feed on your soul. Whenever you look into my eyes, as you're doing now, you fall further under my spell. The dreams about me were part of that, part of my seduction. I made you want me, it was not of your own free will, because I intended to drain you of your young, vibrant soul, and for that I'm sorry.

"However, I found that I couldn't bring myself to do it. For reasons I don't quite understand... But you aren't in love with me. You only think you are, because I made you feel that way. When I leave my spell will be broken, and you'll have no recollection of me..." Carlisle's words faltered. He cleared his throat and continued, "No recollection of our time together, and then you can go on living your life as if I'd never been in it."

Edward only blinked at him, unresponsive.

Carlisle took the boy's beautiful face in his hand for the last time, and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on his mouth.

"I'm telling you this only because I know you won't remember any of it." He sighed deeply. "Bye, Edward."

~The Next Day: Monday~

Edward woke up in his bed, in his flat.

He could hear the shower running, could hear his flatmates in the kitchen, talking and laughing.

It was – he checked his phone – Monday morning, seven-thirty am.

He'd have to start getting ready for uni. He had a lecture at nine.

But Edward didn't get up.

For some reason he didn't want to get up.

He wasn't sick. His body felt fine, fantastic actually – like he'd had a dose of energy pumped directly into his bloodstream...

But he didn't want to get out of bed.

Edward felt like lying in his bed all day, hidden underneath his duvet. He contemplated doing just that. But he wasn't ill.

There wasn't anything different about this Monday morning but he just felt...

Down. Dejected. Despondent. Depressed, even?

He felt like... Like he'd lost someone special to him recently. It was that same feeling of grief that had wracked him when he'd found out his father had died.

Only he hadn't lost anyone. At least, he didn't think he had.

Abruptly, he sat up in his bed and went through the messages in his phone. Maybe there was some bad news back home? Maybe something had happened but was buried in his subconscious?

No texts from his mum. No missed calls.

Then why was he feeling this way?

He decided wallowing would only make it worse, so he got out of bed, showered and got dressed for uni.

There was a pile of dirty clothes on the floor by his bed, so he decided to do some laundry before he left.

Carefully, he went through the pockets of the items of clothing, making sure there was nothing in them.

A white rectangular card fell out of the pocket of a pair of black trousers.

Edward picked it up and looked at it.

He frowned when he saw the number written on it. It was a phone number, and though it looked completely strange to Edward it was also so glaringly familiar.

He decided to call it. Pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled it straight away.

When he got the message on the line, 'The number you have dialled has not been recognised. Please check the number and redial.'

A lone tear ran down his face.

And then another.

And another.

And soon, he was silently sobbing, his hand still clutching the white card, tears running in rivulets down his cheeks.

But Edward didn't know why.