Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight universe.

1 - Edward

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.

Carlisle trailed his hand to the hem of her chemise and started to pull it up slowly. His hand caressed each inch of newly exposed skin.

Esme worked her hand between their bodies, her nimble fingers making quick work of the fastenings of his trousers.

He smiled against her lips, marvelling at how far she had come.

"My Esme..." he breathed.

She lifted her head and touched her lips to his in a whisper soft kiss. "Carlisle," she she said on a breathy little moan, "let's –"

Her words were cut off as the door was opened suddenly. "Carlisle I – " Edward groaned in annoyance at the sight before him and quickly shut the door. "If I'm going to block the two of you, you could at least lock the door."

Esme was tense beneath Carlisle, her eyes wide even as Carlisle laughed softly.

"Should we..." Her eyes tracked to the door, clearly torn between the boy she already thought of as her son and the man she loved desperately.

"No," Carlisle said, "absolutely not."

He let his lips trace a path down the column of her neck. His tongue found the sensitive spot below her ear and teased it lightly, knowing it was the quickest way to get her to forget about Edward.

It worked. Her eyes rolled back before falling shut completely.

Carlisle lowered himself to press against her fully, his arms encircling her form to shift her pliant body. He could hear the piano downstairs, playing a new tune that had Esme smiling beneath him.

"Do you think we've traumatized him?" She whispered, her tone gently teasing.

Carlisle laughed and buried his face in her neck. His hands again working at the hem of her chemise. "I think I don't care." He moaned indiscreetly as he felt Esme's small hands journey past the waistband of his open trousers. "I think he'll get over it."

Edward's hands flew over the keys of the piano. Since Esme and Carlisle had fallen in love, Edward's musical talents had progressed exponentially. He picked out a tune that made him think of Esme. It was sweet and beautifully haunting.

He had enjoyed his life alone with Carlisle but he couldn't deny the fact that Esme had only made it better. Carlisle was happier. Any torment that had still been haunting him seemed to melt away when Esme came into their lives.

Edward took to her immediately. Even during the wildest days of her uncontrolled newborn months, he had found solace in her warmth. She was always comforting, with hugs and gentle touches to spare. He never knew he needed a mother until she came along.

Edward found satisfaction in Carlisle and Esme's love for each other. Witnessing their love story had been fascinating and heartbreaking and achingly lovely. It was a lesson to watch a man like Carlisle struggle to be more. To watch such a good man strive to better himself further so that he might be worthy of her love was something that Edward knew he would carry with him forever.

Watching Esme fight to shed her demons was alternately difficult and triumphant. Her self-consciousness and fear had felt to her like an albatross, something that someone like Carlisle should never have to deal with. She had written herself off as tainted goods, prepared to be the eternal mother, the good friend, and the quietly, painfully in love.

Her thoughts were filled with disbelief when Carlisle slowly started to help her to strip away those burdens. He was patient and their progress was agonizingly slow at times. Edward enjoyed watching the quiet dance. The sweet burn between them eventually grew into a white hot flame and things got a little less comfortable for Edward.

He was thrilled, of course. She had come so amazingly far and Carlisle 's thoughts were the happiest they had ever been.

Edward began to block them more and more, their thoughts too personal for him to endure. He didn't want to intrude any more than he already had and so he tried to give them their privacy.

Laughter from upstairs pulled Edward from his thoughts and he grinned at his piano. Their happiness was infectious, even though he knew that the sight of their bodies intertwined would be one that caused him torment for sometime.

He would be more careful, he promised himself. He would knock on doors that had always been open to him and listen more carefully to the goings on in the house. Their love story was worth the inconveniences and he hoped, with a fervor that he didn't fully understand, that someday, he would find his match.

In the year after Carlisle changed him, Edward decided, firmly, that his kind had no souls. They were the eternal damned, doomed to live a half life, killers by nature, isolated out of necessity.

As he thought of Esme and Carlisle, locked in their embrace as he barged in, as he imagined them, heady and laughing in the throes of new love, for the first time, he felt the seeds of doubt. He saw the logical error in his theory.

For if they had no souls, how had Carlisle's found it's perfect mate?

Note: Thanks to Katako-Chan who gave me this idea in the reviews of Reading Between the lines. I know that you just asked for a Bella walks in on Esme and Carlisle fic but...you have to wait until chapter 6. :P

Rosalie's story coming next week.

Review! - Brynna