Carlisle couldn't believe his luck.
His wife was...stunning. Her hair was fanned over her pillow in gentle waves. Her eyes were alight with pleasure as he trailed gentle fingers over her thigh. She looked up at him expectantly, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.
He leaned over, his strong arms easily keeping his weight off of her. He touched his lips to hers and soothed the spot she had worried with her teeth.
She was smiling as he kissed her, as his tongue darted out to tease the seam of her lips. He delighted in her happiness. That she had found the joy in making love pleased him beyond anything he could ever imagine. That she trusted him enough to shake off her fear and apprehension humbled him beyond anything he could ever say.
She had been scared the first time. His Esme had trembled gently and apologized for it. "I know you won't hurt me," she had said, her voice shaking. "I know it."
He had kissed her then, had held her face in his hands and whispered against her lips, "I've waited centuries for you, darling. I'll wait as long as you need. This isn't an obligation."
Esme had shook her head, her eyes sad with the knowledge that she simply couldn't give him the perfect moment she believed he deserved. "I want a new memory." Then she had paused, her bottom lip trembling for a moment before she captured it with her teeth. "You'll - you'll tell me if I do something wrong?"
Bubbling laughter tangled with a sob in Carlisle's throat, each fighting for dominance as he worked to keep them off his lips. It was absurd to think that he would find displeasure in anything she did. The knowledge that she was so uncertain had caused a punch of sadness and anger to course through him. "I love you," he had sighed, "and there is no 'wrong' here, my Esme."
She found her courage after that and he gave her the new memory that she so desired.
In the months that followed, they were insatiable for each other. Edward was using any excuse to get away from their carnal thoughts and when he was in the house, he worked hard to tune them out. He was getting better at occupying his mind, at flipping off his mental powers by playing the piano or reading. Unless they directly thought his name, he was safe from their thoughts.
As if she was reading his mind, Esme whispered gently, "Is Edward in the house?"
Carlisle shook his head and lowered his lips to her tantalizing neck. "He's hunting."
Whatever tension was left in her body was released as she twined her fingers through his hair and hooked a leg over his hip.
He groaned quietly at the change in position and she grinned at her new-found power.
"I love you," she whispered as his lips trailed to her chest. He placed a long line of kisses along the pale skin just above the delicate lace of her chemise.
"I love you too," he said between kisses. He pulled at the thin straps and let them slide down her arms. He wanted to tear it but he knew it would displease her.
He pulled insistently at the flimsy garment exposing more of her intoxicating skin to his hungry gaze. He felt her fingers move to unbutton his shirt and could only groan at the gentle flutter of her touches. Each tiny, hesitant caress pleased him more than anything had in over two and a half centuries.
She tugged at his shirt and smoothed her hands over his chiseled chest. He sat up just enough to rid himself of the shirt and then lowered himself again over his wife's prone form.
He kissed her again, their lips crashing in what would be a bruising kiss if either of them could bruise. She held him tight, her fingers kneading the ropy muscles of his back.
