Long Lost [[Carlisle Cullen]]

[[Chapter 6: DOWNFALL]]

Time seemed to pass in a blur. Before Carlisle realized it almost twenty years had passed. He learned so much about the world, the creatures in it and more importantly, he learned that he could sate his hunger in the blood of animals, something that settled the gnawing guilt in his gut. It took an argument for Carlisle to realize his hunger was only weaking him, something that Lazarus wanted to never happen. The idea that his mate, his other half could perish. It stopped his dead heart cold.

Mates. That intense pull that Carlisle felt upon their first meeting, the string that tied and bound them together on a level he's never felt before, it was the soul call between mates. Something Lazarus was very keen to explain. They were destined to be together. Carlisle never truly believed in the idea when he was human, it was a fairy tale. The idea of finding the one true piece of your soul among so many was never a thought that would have ever crossed his mind. Most men and women were gifted off, wedded into prominent families. Only the poor were allowed to marry for love and even then, there was no guarantee that the person you fell in love with was a soul mate.

It took him a few years to accept. In the meantime, Lazarus did all he could to shower Carlisle with tokens of his love, and more so affection. Every chance the other man had his hands were somewhere on Carlisle's body. That or his lips. Never had Carlisle experienced such heights of pleasure before, even with his limited knowledge, when he was still alive. It seemed almost never ending, the desire between them pooling in their stomachs, threatening to overflow. The sensations were amplified due to his new vampiric senses. He could taste the saltiness of his own release, devouring the other man's lips. On more than one occasion, he would find Lazarus between his legs, his hands holding Carlisle's hips steady as he partook at what the blond had to offer. Fingers would tangle in those black locks, trying to find a hold of something as he was chased into another ending.

Everything seemed to be going great, until the first time Father went to sleep. The idea of a creature like himself sleeping for years on end was confusing. Just another thing about Lazarus that was shrouded in mystery. He had all their strengths, if not more, and none of their weaknesses. He truly was the first of their kind, the strongest. The only downside was the sleep that he was forced under. Like clockwork, before the end of that second tenth year, Lazarus went to sleep.

The fear that gripped Carlisle those fifty years was unexplainable. The minute Father was under, it was as if the very cord that held them so tightly together was pulled and yanked in different directions. His stomach rolled in anxiety and his thoughts turned depressive. He sat by Lazarus' bed side, ignoring the aching of his stomach, ignoring Kieran's words of comfort. He had to make sure that nothing happened, that he would never lose this new companion.

Lazarus teased him until the venom pooled in his eyes. It was then that Father understood how lost Carlisle felt without him. It took a few weeks of constant affection before the blond felt like he had accepted the reality. It was then that Carlisle's investigative nature pulled him to start studying the arts. He wanted to know the world, more so he wanted to know what made Father so different from the rest. Since he could not remember the time before, Carlisle instead shifted his focus to something he was good at, taking care of others.

Time shifted even faster then. It was filled with all the knowledge Carlisle could imagine, the arts bringing out his more creative and compassionate side. He wanted to learn how to control his thirst, he wanted to experience the world not from his bed chambers, but in front of him. Lazarus was hesitant. He had kept Carlisle away from human blood as long as he could, knowing that the blond would have no part in taking life, but he also knew that Carlisle would not sit still for too long. His mind was always running, always yearning for the next thing.