Here's the scoop: I have pretty much no time to write these days. It sucks hard. :/

I had pieces of this hanging out on my gdocs though, and I was able to knit them together and add a few bits to make a Valentine's day surprise for my secret valentine (grrlinterrupted did a Secret Cupid thing on twitter for some single gals, it was fun). She got a printed out copy in the mail along with some chocolate. Happy V-Day, Michelle!

This is probably the last of these two-it's sort of epilogue-y. We'll see.

This is pretty obviously not Twilight.

"I just want to stop over here, babe," I tell Carlisle, squeezing his hand and tugging him through the crowd of tourists.

It's a rare sunny day in Seattle, and even though it's a little chilly, we come down to the market early to enjoy the day. We have a quiet breakfast, talk about work, his parents' new vacation house, and the news that our state might legalize gay marriage as soon as next week. After breakfast, we browse the market for a little while. Eventually it starts to get busy, the masses of tourists descending, and I can tell that Carlisle is anxious to get out of here.

He's annoyed at first, when I ask him to stop, but he grins when he sees where we're headed.

"You're such an addict," he teases.

"Do not mock my love of dark chocolate Chukar Cherries." I glare at him as we weave through the crowd, but he just laughs.

"I would never."

He's even patient as I wait in line for my cherries (I can get them anywhere, but they somehow taste better when they come from Pike Place). He presses a kiss to my cheek and wanders around to check out some of the other booths.

I make my purchase and snag a bag of the spiced hazelnuts that Carlisle loves before turning around to find him. He's engrossed in conversation with a cute young guy selling herbs. A very cute young guy, with dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and a very cute bicep that flexes as he places a very cute hand on my boyfriend's forearm.

Oh, hell no.

I make my way to them, elbowing tourists out of the way, and thread my arm through Carlisle's. Cute guy is taken aback, and pulls his hand away quickly.

"Sorry to hold you up, sweetie." I press my side against Carlisle's and tilt my head to kiss his cheek. Carlisle laughs at my blatant display of ownership and pulls his arm free so he can wrap it around my waist.

"No problem, babe."

Cute guy offers Carlisle a business card, but my boyfriend just laughs and waves him off.

"I have everything I need," he says, squeezing my waist.

We leave and walk up the hill towards Carlisle's car, moving against the flow of people walking down to the market. He chuckles to himself, a satisfied smile on his face the whole time.

"You don't have to be so smug about it," I tease, bumping his hip with mine.

"What? Smug? No way. You're just cute when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," I argue. "I was just letting that dirty hippie know that you're taken, that's all."

"He was just being friendly," Carlisle says, but the glint in his eyes tells me that he knows that's not true. We stay away from the bar scene, so we don't have to put up with a lot of... outside interest. When it does happen, though, Carlisle gets a kick out of my instinctual possessive reaction.

"Whatever," I grumble, narrowing my eyes at him. Carlisle pops open the trunk of his Mercedes, and we drop all of our purchases inside.

"Where to? Home?" Carlisle asks. It's still strange to hear him say that-home instead of my place or your place. We debated for a long time about keeping his place or mine, but in the end we decided we both wanted a fresh start. Together. Home now is a three-bedroom contemporary house near Green Lake, with a mortgage in both of our names.

"I don't know..." I hesitate, hoping Carlisle will let me shop for a while. "It's such a beautiful day. Maybe we could take a walk? Go up to Fifth Avenue or something? I wouldn't mind just browsing at Gucci..."

"Browsing, huh?" he says, shutting the trunk firmly. "C'mon, let's go. You know I love it when you try on expensive suits."

I can't bring myself to drop three thousand dollars on the dark gray Marseille suit I try on.

Judging by the way Carlisle is drooling over it, though, I have a feeling I might be seeing it again around my birthday. He buys a new pair of driving moccasins and I pick up a lightweight sweater, perfect for spring, before we walk out into the morning sunshine again.

Carlisle laces his fingers through mine as we stroll casually up the street, window shopping and swinging our Gucci bags happily.

I'm babbling about my latest case at work, complaining about the opposing counsel, when Carlisle stops short. I keep walking, but he stands firm and pulls me back to him.

"What?" I ask, exasperated. I pull my hand free from his and use it to shield my eyes from the sun, looking for whatever has distracted him.

I gasp when I see it.

We're in front of a fine lingerie store, a fancy boutique I've never dared wander into before. Carlisle is mesmerized by the window display, a mannequin in a delicate, cream-colored silk chemise. It's stunning and sexy, a shimmering silk with intricate lace detail at the bust and the hem.

"Wow," I mutter, reaching into my pocket for my phone. I pull it out and snap a few pictures, stepping closer to the glass to see if I can catch the name of the manufacturer.

"What are you doing? Let's go inside," Carlisle says, his hand already on the door. My heart starts racing and I grip his arm, trying to stop him.

"No! We can't go in there!" I hiss, nodding towards the interior of the shop. I spend tons of money on lingerie online, and I've even gone to a few stores under the pretense of buying something for my "wife." I've never gone to a boutique like this, though-one where the service is always personalized-and never with my boyfriend in tow.

"Why not?" Carlisle asks, eyes wide with surprise.

"We just can't! They'll talk to us. And they'll know that we're... you know. Together."

"Edward," Carlisle says, reaching up to cup my cheek, "they don't need to know who you're buying it for. We'll just tell them we're browsing."

"They'll just... even if we lie... they'll know," I tell him, pleading with my eyes for him to understand.

"Babe, even if they guess that we're shopping for one of us, it's none of their goddamn business," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's fine. Does it really bother you that much? Because I really, really want to buy that for you." His eyes flicker to the window display.

I hesitate for a minute, but in the end my desire trumps my anxiety.

"Okay," I whisper, shuffling awkwardly.

"Sure?" Carlisle asks.

"Sure." I nudge him forward, and he reaches for the door again. I suck in a deep, calming breath, and follow.

"Hello there!" A small, bubbly woman greets us the second we walk in, stepping away from the display of panties she's organizing. I give Carlisle an I-told-you-so look as she approaches. "I'm Alice. Welcome."

"As in... Alice's Fine Lingerie?" Carlisle asks, referring to the name of the store.

"Exactly," she says, her smile wide as she looks back and forth between us. "What brings you gentlemen in today?"

I feel my cheeks heat up and I walk away, leaving Carlisle to explain.

"Oh, just browsing, thanks," he says. His tone and his body language would deter most sales people, but apparently Alice of Alice's Fine Lingerie is more persistent than most.

"Well, we have some lovely new bra and panty sets from La Perla, and I have some Chantelle pieces on sale on the back table. Who are you shopping for today?" she asks. I'm hiding behind a mannequin, but I can see the impish grin on Alice's face as her eyes flicker back and forth from Carlisle to me.

"Thanks for the information. We'll let you know if we need anything." Carlisle winks at her, and I shake my head. Could he be any more obvious? I turn to the wall in front of me and stare at the tiny thongs on delicate padded hangers lining this wall of the shop. Carlisle and I browse separately for a while, but I keep glancing over my shoulder to check on him-and I catch him doing the same.

"Gucci, huh?" I startle a little and turn around to find Alice behind me, hanging some camisoles on a rack.

"Uh, yeah, we were just there."

"What'd you get?" she asks, bouncing a little on her toes. I chuckle, because I can tell she's a kindred shopper-her eagerness to see my purchases from another store gives her away.

"Just a sweater," I tell her, pulling it out of the bag so she can see.

"Ooooh... I like!" she squeals, brushing her fingers over the wool. "What about your boo?" she asks, jerking her head towards Carlisle, on the other side of the store.

My boo?

I think I like this girl.

"Car, come show her your shoes," I call. He smiles when he sees my relaxed expression, and joins our conversation.

Alice coos over his driving mocs and we chat about Gucci in general for a while, including the cute sales guy who always works the day shift. We bond over Versace, too, and our mutual admiration for Dolce & Gabbana.

"So tell me," Alice says eventually, her eyes sparkling, "what brings a couple of extremely stylish gentlemen like yourselves into a store like mine?"

Carlisle meets my eyes over her head, silently questioning how much I want to reveal. I shrug, feeling much more comfortable here now that we know Alice a little bit.

"We were interested in the window display," he says carefully, feeling her out a little.

"The chemise?" she asks, clapping her hands excitedly. She pushes past Carlisle and reaches for a rack on the wall near the window display. Pausing, she turns back and looks between Carlisle and I. "Large," she says, her eyes on me, "or extra-large?" She looks at Carlisle, appraising his size. He's only slightly bigger than me, but she obviously has a keen eye.

I take a deep breath, because I know this is the last chance I have to lie-I could tell her that I'm buying it for a friend, or as a gag gift, or for some other lame reason. But something in her easy acceptance of Carlisle and apparently, of my love for lingerie, makes me feel safe.

"Large," I tell her confidently. Carlisle's hand slips around my waist, and he squeezes gently.

"Excellent," Alice says, licking her bottom lip as her gaze lingers a little too long on my body. I laugh and duck my face into Carlisle's shoulder. "Gay guys are so fucking hot," Alice mutters, heading back towards us with the cream chemise in her hand. She stops and picks up a red babydoll and a black bustier, gathers the hangers in her hand and passes them to me.

"Dressing room's in the back," she says, nodding her head towards a red velvet curtain at the back of the store.

"Thanks," I breathe, laughing at the soaring, happy feeling of shopping for lingerie without the usual sense of panic and fear of getting caught.

"C'mon," Carlisle says, dragging me towards the back of the store. He tries to follow me into the dressing room, but I know that's a bad idea. Alice might be cool, but she's probably not that cool.

I pull the heavy curtain closed and strip off my boots, my jeans, and my sweater, leaving on just my boxer briefs. I try the black bustier first-it's a little more S&M than what I usually go for, but I'm willing to try it.

It's cute, but it doesn't do anything for me.

I don't need it.

The red babydoll is a little more my style. I feel my heartbeat pick up as I slide the lace over my head, adjust the satin straps, and tug the material down over my ribcage.

"You okay in there?" Carlisle asks, sticking his hand through the curtain to wave at me.

"Mmhmm," I call, turning to look at my backside in the mirror.

"Which one are you trying on?"

"The red one."

"Fuck." I'm not sure if Carlisle meant for me to hear his low epithet, but I do. I can see his feet just under the curtain and I know he's hovering close by. "Can I see?"

I flatten myself against the wall so Alice can't see, then reach out through the curtain to grab Carlisle by the front of his shirt. I pull him into the dressing room and quickly push the curtain closed behind him.

"Oh, Jesus, Ed," Carlisle says, looking me up and down slowly. Sensually. "I want that one. How much is it? Nevermind, don't care. I'm buying it."

He reaches for me just as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Part of me wants nothing more than to crush my body against his and let him ravage me right here.

But another part of me is very, very aware of the cool-but-probably-not-that-cool girl just outside.

"Car, don't start anything you can't finish," I warn him, flattening a palm against his chest.

"Oh, I can finish it," he teases.

"Later!" I tell him, pushing him back through the curtain. He stays close, his feet visible beneath the curtain while I carefully pull off the red nightie and slip it back onto the hanger.

"Are you trying on the other one?" he asks, his voice low and sensual.

"Yeah," I tell him, palming my cock quickly through my boxer briefs before I pull the sexy silk chemise over my head. It's like heaven, the softest silk I've ever felt and somehow, miraculously, exactly the right size. I'm shaking as I adjust the shoulder straps and turn to check out the view from behind.

"Can I see this one too?" Carlisle asks.

I turn again to stare at the delicate lace covering my chest, the soft fall of silk over my torso, the hem that just barely covers me.

It's sexy, but it's something more than that, too. It makes me feel different. Special.

"Not yet," I tell him, swallowing hard against the quiver of excitement in my voice. "I'm gonna get dressed. Go talk to Alice," I tell him.

"Okay. But then we're going straight home," he says, and the growl in his voice tells me we probably won't make it to the bedroom before he's all over me.

A week later, I'm sitting at my desk at work, picking at a club sandwich while I review a deposition. After our lingerie shopping adventure last weekend, I've barely seen Carlisle-we've both been so busy this week that we keep missing each other in the evenings. I wore the red babydoll for him once, but we haven't had time to dig into the rest of our purchases from that day.

I almost choke on a piece of turkey when Carlisle bursts into my office.

"What's wrong?" I ask immediately, scanning him for injury. He's only been to my office once before, when I stopped by on a Sunday to pick up paperwork. It's Friday afternoon, though, and I have a meeting in half an hour. I thought Carlisle had meetings at the hospital all day, so I'm shocked to see him here.

"Carlisle?" I ask, worry turning to panic as he closes my office door and strides over to my desk. "Carlisle, what's going on?"

He's shaking and smiling, and I stand up, wanting to touch him, hold him. He pushes me back down into my desk chair and turns to my computer, bending over to type something in.

"If you don't tell me what the fuck is happening right now..." I grumble, somewhat appeased by the grin on his face but still worried.

He turns my computer monitor, twists it so I'm facing it head on.

He's pulled up the website for our local NBC affiliate.

"What? The news? The weather? What?" I ask, searching the screen. Carlisle moves the mouse and clicks on the lead story, then steps back as it starts to load.

WASHINGTON STATE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES PASSES GAY MARRIAGE BILL

And suddenly my heart drops to my stomach.

We talked about it last weekend, that this vote was coming up, but I completely forgot that it was happening today. I look up at Carlisle and we lock eyes, and suddenly his smile, his shaking hands, his urgency mean something different.

He leans down, grips the arms of my chair, and kisses me soundly. I can feel his tension, his excitement, and I wrap my hand around the back of his neck to comfort him. I'm shaking, too, and I let out a nervous laugh when he finally pulls his lips away from mine.

He drops his forehead to mine, keeping us connected.

"Edward Masen, will you marry me?"

Even though I knew what he was going to ask-I knew why he was here the second I read the words on my computer screen-it still takes my breath away to hear him say the words.

"Of course I will," I whisper, tilting my head up to capture his lips again. He slumps against me, relieved, and I try to catch him as he slides down to his knees.

"Oh, thank God," he says, resting his head on my lap. I stroke his hair, shaking and laughing from the adrenaline flying through my system.

"Did you think I'd say no?" I tease.

Carlisle looks up and grins, reaching for my hand to lace his fingers through mine.

"No, I just... couldn't wait. I was at lunch and I got a news alert on my iPhone, and my body just went on auto-pilot. I walked all the way here. I just... I didn't let myself think about it too much before. Marriage. Because it wasn't a possibility, you know? But then today... it became a real possibility for me. For us. And I just knew right away that I had to get to you and make it official."

I bend low and kiss him again, moved by his words and his presence. In my office, in my life.

We move to the low couch in my office so we can sit together, touching and talking quietly. Eventually my phone starts ringing and my secretary comes back from lunch. It's hard to believe that we have to go back to real life after having such an intense experience, but our busy schedules never let up.

"I'll be home by seven," he promises, wrapping his arms around my waist as we say goodbye.

"I'll be home by six-thirty," I tell him, waggling my eyebrows. "So I'll be waiting for you."

We talk about going out for dinner to celebrate, but in the end we stay home and order takeout.

We eat on the couch, Chinese food boxes spread out on the coffee table, and take turns calling friends and family to tell them about our news. Carlisle's mother wins the award for best reaction: "A gay wedding? What could be more fabulous?"

When the food is gone and all the calls have been made, he lies with his head on my lap and we talk quietly about our plans. For our wedding, our future.

It feels surreal, like I've stepped outside my body. I never could have imagined two years ago that I'd find this kind of happiness, that I'd find a man who I loved and trusted this much. That I'd find a man who not only accepted me, but loved me-every bit of me.

"Car? Wanna go to bed?" I ask, smiling down at him. He smirks and sits up, stretching his arms up over his head.

"Yeah. You tired?" he asks, his eyes roaming my body suggestively. I'm still in my work clothes, but my collar is open and my tie is hanging loose around my neck.

"Not so much." I smirk and lean forward to kiss him, but he nods toward the mess of empty takeout containers in front of us.

"I'm gonna clean this up. Why don't you go get undressed. Or..." he trails off, teasing the exposed skin at my neck with his index finger. "Or you could put on something else."

"Hmm." I hum and grab the hand that's teasing me, pulling it up so I can kiss his palm. "We'll see," I tease.

I leave him to clean up and strip off my dress shirt and tie as I walk upstairs. By the time I get to our bedroom, my heart is racing. I pull off the rest of my clothes and toss them on the floor of the closet, kicking them out of the way so I can rifle through my lingerie drawers. (Drawers-plural. The days of keeping a few pieces shamefully hidden under old sweatshirts are long gone.)

I pull different pieces out, holding them up to my body and then tossing them on the floor. I start to panic as I move through my collection, dropping things at my feet as I search for the right thing, the perfect thing to wear.

Nothing seems right-nothing seems special enough for a night like this-until I remember the beautiful silk and lace slip that Carlisle bought for me last weekend. It's on the floor next to my dresser, still in the bag, folded neatly in tissue paper and waiting to be worn.

I unfold it carefully, reveling in the silk slipping through my fingertips. I tug it on over my head and smooth it over my torso, trying to ignore the way my cock is already hard and pushing the hem out from my body.

I slip the matching panties on over my legs and tug them up slowly. They're skimpy, smaller than anything else I have, and there's no way my erection will fit inside. I turn to the mirror lining the back wall of the walk-in closet and adjust myself. It looks kind of obscene, but also really fucking hot.

"Beautiful," I hear. I jump at the sound of Carlisle's voice and let the hem of the chemise fall to cover my panties. "You look so sexy, Edward."

When I turn to face him, I gasp.

It still surprises me. The fire, the hunger in his eyes when he sees me dressed in something soft, pretty, silky.

He stalks forward, dodging the pile of lingerie I've left on the floor, and wraps his arms around me. He makes me wait for a kiss, keeping his lips from me as his hands roam my body, shifting the silk over my sides and my lower back. His hand dips lower, to the scrap of fabric that covers my ass, and he hums in pleasure.

When he finally gives in and drops his head to mine, kissing me passionately, I can barely hold myself up. I fall back against the mirror and Carlisle moves with me, pressing me up against the cool glass. His kisses are hungry and demanding, his hands insistent and consuming.

It's always intense with Carlisle, but I've never once seen him this fired up.

I try to show him that I'm in this too, that I'm right there with him. I push my fingers through his hair, pull at the buttons of his shirt, scratch the back of his neck with my fingernails. "Fuck, Edward. You're so soft," he says, stroking my ribcage.

It strikes us both as funny at the same time, and we laugh and stare into each others' eyes.

"Not completely," I tease, tilting my hips up to meet his. This time when he kisses me it's soft, loving.

"C'mere," he says, grabbing my hand and leading me towards the door to our bedroom.

He stops short, though, when his bare feet meet the pile of satin and lace on the floor.

"I'll clean it up later," I tell him, pushing him backwards so he can take me to bed. He grins and rests a hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place.

"Stay here," he says, kissing my cheek.

I humor him, rubbing the lace hem of my chemise between my fingers as I hear him fumbling around in the bedroom.

"Hi," he says, stepping into the doorframe a minute later. He's naked now, stroking his cock idly, but for some reason he looks like the cat that ate the canary. I cock my head in question and he grins, holding up a bottle of lube.

"Mmm, good idea. Bed?" I ask, taking a step forward. He moves quickly, meeting me before I can make any progress.

He doesn't answer, just presses his lips to my neck. He trails kisses from one side to the other, stopping to suck lightly at my Adam's apple and make me shiver. From there his lips skim down my chest, through the sparse hair and over the lacy cups of my slip. He sucks my nipple into his mouth, licking through the fabric, and I moan and pull him closer.

He keeps moving lower, pressing his open mouth to my stomach and warming the cool silk with his breath. By the time he drops to his knees, my legs are shaking and I have to steady myself by leaning against the dresser.

"This looks... fuck, Edward," he whispers, stroking my cock through the fabric. When he lifts the hem to see it straining the tiny panties, he whimpers and drops his forehead to my thigh. "This looks so hot. My god."

He kisses my thighs, my belly, my hips, teasing and torturing. He avoids the places I want his lips the most-specifically the head of my cock, peeking out of the waistband of my panties. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and try to guide him, pull him closer to where I need him, but he stubbornly avoids giving in.

"Please, baby," I whisper.

"Come here," he says, grabbing my hand and tugging me to the floor so we're kneeling, face to face. I try to push him onto his back so I can climb on top, but he's not having it-he wants to be in control tonight.

He moves out of the way and carefully pushes me forward until I'm on my hands and knees, surrounded by silk and satin. He's behind me now, his fingers skating up the backs of my thighs, moving higher and dragging the hem of my chemise up and over my ass.

"Stop teasing." I turn and stare at him over my shoulder, pleading with my eyes for some relief. He smirks and hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, yanks them roughly down over my ass and leaves them bunched around my thighs.

"Teasing? Me? Never," Carlisle says, ghosting his fingers over my crack. I growl and flex my wrists, adjusting my position. It's hard not to slip and slide on the shiny fabric beneath me. I struggle to stay upright as Carlisle drizzles the lube between my cheeks, pushing and spreading it around in long strokes and little circles.

When he pushes a finger inside, my arms start to shake.

When he adds a second, I drop down to my elbows.

By the time he's fucking me steadily with his fingers, I'm moaning and pushing back against him, so ready to be filled completely. My cheek is pressed against the floor, flushed and warm against the rough lace of my favorite boyshorts (the blue ones Carlisle bought for my birthday last year).

He pulls his fingers away and presses his body against mine, curving over my spine and dropping his head down to my neck. I can feel his chest pressed against my back through the thin fabric, and his hard, heavy dick between my cheeks.

"I love you," I murmur.

"I love you, too." He rests his arm on top of mine and threads our fingers together, peppering my shoulders with kisses.

"Feels so good, baby. But I want you..." I lift up on trembling forearms and turn my head to kiss him deeply, nipping at his bottom lip and sucking his tongue into my mouth.

"Mmm," he moans, shifting so he can slip a hand between us. He drags his cock purposefully through my crack now, circling around my hole. "Here? You want me here?"

"Please," I sigh, dropping down to my elbows again.

Carlisle can be as forceful as he is tender. He pushes inside, fast and relentless, filling me until his hips are flush against my ass. When he starts to move, he doesn't wait for me to adjust, or start with slow, shallow strokes-he fucks me. Hard.

I'm panting and clutching fruitlessly at the lingerie scattered all over the floor, the silk covering my chest slipping and sliding against the fabric beneath me. Carlisle doesn't stop, doesn't let up for a second, just fills me over and over and holds me steady with firm hands at my waist.

It's almost too soon when he growls, "I need you to cum, Edward." I don't know if I can get there on my own, but It turns out that I don't have to-Carlisle wraps an arm around me and strokes my cock, matching the rhythm of his movements.

"Yeah," I whine, feeling the tension start to build. I shift my weight to one arm and reach beneath my body with the other, wrapping my fingers around Carlisle's. "There, right there," I beg, my whole body shaking as he starts hitting exactly the right spot.

It's perfect, it's exactly what I need. I turn my head and bury my face in the pile of panties beneath me, moaning and screaming into them as my body tenses and finally, finally lets go

Carlisle follows right after, falling forward and sinking his teeth into my shoulder as he cums inside me. "Oh God, Edward. Fuck," he moans, thrusting hard one last time.

We stay just like that, panting, sweaty, and sticky, until Carlisle carefully pulls away. There's no way to avoid a mess, especially since we stopped using condoms, so Carlisle usually jumps up to grab a towel or a washcloth once we're finished.

Tonight, though, he just flops down on the floor next to me.

"Jesus."

"I know," I murmur, elated and exhausted.

Carlisle picks up a pair of black panties with a white streak of cum across the front. "Looks like someone made a mess."

"Hmm, that could stain. Might be hard to get out," I tell him, plucking them from his hand and tossing them behind me.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, turning to his side so he can lean over and kiss me.

"Mmmhmm. I might even have to replace some things..."

"Tomorrow," Carlisle says, pressing his lips to my forehead tenderly. "Tomorrow, we'll go see Alice."

A/N: I hope you liked! Let me know what you think. They're done, right? HEA? I don't think there's much else for these two to do.

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