Warnings: my bad writing, MDNI, +18 only, NSFW, love, CARLISLE is hot, anyway, THIRST
Book II, Chapter 7: A Night In Port Angeles
The cafeteria was loud with the usual chatter of students eager for the weekend, but at the table where Y/N sat with her friends, the conversation had taken an interesting turn.
Mike, with his usual enthusiasm, leaned toward Bella, his grin wide. “So, Bella, I was thinking… maybe we could go see a movie tonight?”
Bella stiffened, eyes darting to Y/N, who barely looked up from her notebook. The tension in the air was almost palpable.
Angela raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the awkwardness.
Mike quickly backpedaled. “I mean—only if you want to! We could, you know, all go together.”
Bella let out a quiet breath of relief before giving an eager nod. “Yeah! A group thing sounds fun.”
Eric laughed. “Wow, smooth, Newton.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Angela chimed in. “We haven’t done anything fun as a group in a while.”
“You in, Y/N?” Jessica turned to her.
Y/N shook her head, offering a small smile. “Can’t. I already have plans.”
As the conversation shifted to what movie to see, Y/N returned her attention to her notebook, though she hadn’t actually been working on anything in the last few minutes.
It had been exactly two weeks since she’d discovered the truth about soulmates in her grimoire. Two weeks since she had confirmed Carlisle was back in town. Two weeks of secret meetings, stolen conversations, and desperate attempts to untangle the web of lies Esme had woven around the Cullens.
She still wasn’t sure what scared her more, Carlisle’s unwavering belief that she was his mate, or the fact that she felt it too.
Carlisle sat in the dimly lit study of the temporary home he had rented in Port Angeles, his fingers absentmindedly running over the old text in front of him. The words blurred together, but his mind was elsewhere.
Fourteen days since Y/N discovered he had returned to Forks. Fourteen days of secrecy, of quiet meetings with Y/N, of trying to unravel a mystery that seemed impossible.
He now knew, without a doubt, that Esme had been lying to him.
The fog that had clouded his mind for years had begun to lift the moment he distanced himself from her. It was subtle at first, just flickers of clarity. But every moment he spent away from her, every meeting with Y/N, made it clearer.
Esme had done something to him.
Vampires didn’t have abilities like that. At least, none that he had ever encountered.
Y/N, for all her own growing power, had been just as perplexed. They had spent hours talking, exchanging theories, poring over texts she had access to, and retracing the past century of his life for any clues.
A part of him wanted to believe it was just his own mind breaking free of a long-held illusion. That maybe, just maybe, he had been mistaken about Esme all these years.
But another part of him, the part that could still hear Esme’s voice in the back of his mind, whispering reassurances and promises, knew it was far more than that.
He closed the book and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
Y/N had asked him once—What does this mean for you?
At the time, he hadn’t been able to answer.
It meant his entire existence had been a lie.
Later that day - Y/N’s pov
The air was crisp that night, the scent of saltwater drifting in from the bay as Y/N parked her Jeep outside Carlisle’s rental in Port Angeles. The house itself was small, nothing extravagant, but fitting for a man like him. A warm glow flickered through the windows, a contrast to the cool evening outside.
She had been here a few times before, but never this late. Never with her heart pounding this hard in her chest.
Taking a breath, she stepped up to the door and knocked lightly.
It opened almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for her.
Carlisle stood there in the dim light, wearing a black tshirt, exposing strong forearms lined with veins. His hands, God, his hands, were the kind that looked like they could ruin her.
“Come in,” he said, voice deep, stepping aside to let her in.
Y/N hesitated for just a second before walking past him, the scent of something delicious hitting her instantly.
“You cooked?” she asked, surprised.
He gave a soft chuckle, closing the door behind her. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t have eaten. You’ve been running yourself ragged lately.”
Her stomach betrayed her with a low growl, and she winced.
Carlisle smirked, leading her to the dining table where a plate was already set. The meal was simple, grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and warm bread.
She slid into the chair, watching as he poured her a glass of water. His movements were effortless, precise, like everything he did.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she murmured, feeling oddly shy under his gaze.
“I wanted to.” He sat across from her, leaning forward slightly, forearms resting on the table, and she had to stop herself from staring at the way the fabric of his tshirt stretched over his muscles.
She picked up her fork, trying to focus on the food instead of the way her skin felt hot under his attention.
Silence stretched between them for a moment, comfortable, but thick with something unspoken.
Carlisle’s eyes studied her. “You’ve been working too hard.”
She swallowed, setting her fork down. “So have you.”
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “True. But at least I don’t forget to eat.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the blush rising to her cheeks.
Carlisle leaned back slightly, stretching his arms behind his head for a moment, and Y/N had to look away before she embarrassed herself. How was it even possible for a man to look so effortlessly attractive doing something so simple?
“You’re blushing,” he teased, voice lower now.
Her head snapped up. “No, I’m not.”
His smirk deepened. “You are.”
She scowled, picking up her glass and taking a slow sip. This is dangerous, she thought.
Because for the past two weeks, something had been shifting between them. It wasn’t just the late-night conversations, the stolen glances, or the way she found herself thinking about him more than she should.
It was the way he looked at her.
Like she was something worth looking at.
She cleared her throat, trying to shake the thought away. “Did you find anything new?”
His expression sobered, the teasing glint in his eyes fading just slightly. “Not yet. But I know Esme is manipulating more than just my thoughts. She’s… controlling on a deeper level.”
Y/N nodded, grateful for the shift in conversation, though her pulse was still racing. “She doesn’t manipulate fate. Just minds.”
Carlisle exhaled, running a hand through his hair—a rare sign of frustration. “Then the question is… how long has she been doing this? And why?”
Y/N frowned, fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass. “You said it started before you even met me, right?”
He nodded. “Yes. But it’s worse now.”
She met his gaze, her voice softer now. “Because of me?”
His jaw clenched for a fraction of a second before he answered. “Because of us.”
The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken.
Y/N’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay composed.
She wasn’t naïve. She knew what she felt for him.
And, despite everything, despite the way it terrified her, she knew he felt it too.
By the time they finished dinner, the wind had turned violent, howling against the windows of Carlisle’s rental like a wounded animal. The rain started minutes later, heavy and relentless, drumming against the roof with an unforgiving rhythm.
Y/N glanced at the window, her stomach twisting slightly. The drive back to Forks would be hell in this storm.
Carlisle must have noticed the way she tensed because he leaned forward. “You shouldn’t drive in this.” His voice was calm, but there was something in his eyes, concern.
“I’ll be fine,” she said automatically, but even as the words left her mouth, a sharp gust of wind rattled the glass, making her wince.
Carlisle arched a brow, unimpressed. “That’s not convincing.”
She sighed, rubbing her temples. He’s right. It was stupid to drive back in this kind of weather, especially at night.
Still, she hesitated. Staying the night at his place? Alone?
Carlisle leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. His tshirt clung to his torso, the fabric stretching just enough to remind her of the solid muscle beneath.
“I have a room,” he added, as if sensing her hesitation. “You’ll be safe here.”
Y/N bit her lip. The wind howled again, shaking the entire house.
With a sigh, she pulled her phone from her pocket. “Fine. Let me call Charlie.”
Carlisle didn’t say anything, just watched her with those sharp golden eyes as she dialed.
It only rang once before Charlie picked up. “Hey, kid. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She glanced at the window, listening to the wind roar. “I, uh… got stuck in Port Angeles. The storm’s too bad to drive back, so I just got a hotel room for the night.”
Charlie sighed. “Yeah, I just heard the warning on the radio. Good call, kid. Just be safe, alright?”
“I will,” she promised. “I’ll drive back in the morning.”
They exchanged quick goodnights before she hung up. When she turned back to Carlisle, he was watching her with something unreadable in his expression.
“You didn’t tell him you were here,” he noted.
She shrugged. “He’d ask too many questions.”
He didn’t press the matter. Instead, he stood, stretching slightly before gathering their plates.
Y/N’s eyes flickered down on instinct.
The hem of his sweater lifted just enough to reveal a sliver of his stomach, taut muscle and a sharp V-line disappearing beneath his jeans.
She snapped her gaze away so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.
“I’ll find something for you to sleep in,” he said. “In the meantime, if you want to shower, the bathroom is just down the hall.”
She exhaled slowly, nodding. “Yeah. That… sounds good.”
The shower was exactly what she needed.
The warm water eased some of the tension from her shoulders, and she took her time washing the day away. But her mind refused to stay quiet.
Instead, it drifted back to him.
The way he looked tonight, the way he always looked, really. But tonight, in that damn tshirt, with his veined hands gripping the pan while cooking, with the way his muscles flexed ever so slightly when he moved…
She groaned, pressing her forehead against the cool tile.
It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t just some guy. He was Carlisle Cullen. And no matter what they felt, no matter what he claimed about mates and Esme and manipulation, he was still married.
She squeezed her eyes shut, exhaling slowly. It was all too much. The storm outside, the storm inside her.
But even as she tried to shake the thoughts away, the image of him lingered behind her eyes. The sharp cut of his jaw. The way his amber eyes darkened when he looked at her. The stretch of his body when he leaned back at dinner.
She needed to finish this shower before she lost her damn mind.
She exhaled as she stepped out of the bathroom, steam billowing around her like a soft mist. The air outside the warm cocoon of the shower was cooler, making goosebumps rise on her damp skin.
Carlisle had left clothes for her just outside the door, a large, soft white t-shirt that smelled like him, and a pair of sweatpants that would no doubt be too big for her. She pulled them on, her skin still warm from the water, and the fabric felt almost too comfortable.
The t-shirt swallowed her frame, the neckline slipping slightly off one shoulder. She didn't hate it. In fact, she liked the way it felt, as if he had wrapped her in something his. She shook the thought away and ran a hand through her damp hair before padding barefoot back into the living room.
Carlisle was lounging on the L-shaped couch, one arm draped casually over the backrest as he flicked through channels on the TV remote.
And God help her, she was thirsty.
Her eyes betrayed her instantly, trailing down his torso, lingering on the way the soft fabric of his shirt stretched over his chest. Then lower, over the faint ridges of his abs beneath the fabric, down to his strong thighs, which were definitely taking up more than their fair share of space on the couch.
And those damn sweatpants.
“Find something to watch?” she asked, hoping her voice sounded casual.
He glanced up at her and gave her a small, almost lazy smile. “Not yet. Any preferences?”
She shook her head and made her way to the couch, sitting beside him. She tried, really tried, not to notice the way his muscles shifted as he moved, the way his veined hands gripped the remote, the way he smelled like cedar and something inherently Carlisle.
He must have noticed the way she kept fidgeting because he finally set the remote down and turned slightly to face her. “How’s your medical school application process going?”
Right. Med school. A safe topic.
She exhaled, tucking her legs beneath her. “It’s… a lot. I’ve sent in my applications to a few places, but I’m still waiting to hear back.”
He nodded, eyes warm and attentive. “You’ll get in. You’re brilliant.”
She bit her lip, warmth spreading in her chest at the certainty in his voice. “Thanks.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “What do you want from it?”
She blinked. “From med school?”
“From your future,” he clarified.
She hesitated, fidgeting slightly. “I guess… I just want to help people. To matter.”
His gaze softened. “You already do.”
Something in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. A part of her wanted to reach for him.
But it was getting harder to resist.
She was still warm from the shower, but she felt hotter now. Was it just her, or had he shifted closer?
And then she caught him looking.
More specifically, at her chest.
Her nipples were peaked beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. The realization made her stomach tighten, heat pooling low.
Carlisle’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his golden eyes darkening just a fraction.
And suddenly, they weren’t talking anymore.
Somewhere between words and silence, the space between them disappeared.
She wasn’t sure who moved first, if it was him leaning in, or her shifting closer, but before she could think about it, his hand was brushing against her jaw, tilting her chin up.
Then his lips were on hers.
It started slow, testing, almost hesitant, but as soon as she sighed against his mouth, as soon as she parted her lips just enough for him to deepen the kiss, all hesitation disappeared.
Carlisle groaned softly, shifting until he was angled toward her, his large hands framing her face as he kissed her with more intensity.
Y/N melted into him, fingers gripping the soft fabric of his shirt, feeling the solid muscle beneath. He was strong, she could feel it in the way he held her, the way his hands moved from her face down to her waist, pulling her closer, as if he needed her closer.
Her hands traveled up, slipping under the hem of his shirt, feeling his skin, the hard ridges of his stomach. He inhaled sharply at the contact, his grip tightening on her hips.
The kiss turned desperate.
She gasped when he pulled her onto his lap, straddling him. His fingers dug into her thighs, his breath ragged against her lips as he pulled back just enough to look at her.
Her chest heaved, lips swollen from the kiss.
Carlisle’s eyes roamed over her face before dropping lower, his hands skimmed up her sides, fingertips brushing beneath the fabric of her shirt.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice rough. “And I will.”
Instead, she kissed him again, fingers tangling in his golden hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
He groaned against her lips, hands gripping her hips, guiding her to press against him.
She gasped at the feeling, heat pooling low in her stomach.
“Y/N…” His voice was strained, his forehead pressing against hers as if trying to regain control.
Her breathing was uneven, her body trembling slightly against him.
They were playing with fire.
And neither of them wanted to put it out.
Carlisle’s breath was hot against Y/N’s lips, his hands firm on her hips, holding her against him as though she might slip away. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t—not when the feel of him, the taste of him, was setting her skin ablaze.
His hands skimmed beneath her shirt, fingers ghosting over her ribs before sliding up, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She gasped, her back arching into his touch, pressing her chest against his palms. He groaned, rolling his hips up instinctively.
The sound sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt him beneath her, hard and thick, pressing against her through his sweatpants. Heat pooled in her belly, a desperate ache settling between her thighs.
Carlisle kissed down her jaw, his lips tracing a slow path to her neck. He paused, breathing her in, before sucking gently at the skin just below her ear. She whimpered, fingers tangling in his golden hair as he moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her throat.
His hands slid higher, pushing her shirt up over her head. She let him, raising her arms as he stripped it from her, tossing it aside.
He froze for a second, just looking at her, his golden eyes darkening as they roamed over her bare skin.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, almost reverently.
She shivered under his gaze, heart hammering in her chest. Then his hands were on her again, one sliding up her back, the other gripping her waist as he leaned forward, pressing his lips between her breasts. She gasped when his tongue flicked over her nipple, his mouth closing over it, sucking lightly.
She moaned, hips rocking against him, seeking friction.
Carlisle growled low in his throat, his hands tightening on her hips as he guided her movements, pressing her down against his arousal.
“Carlisle…” She barely recognized her own voice, breathless and needy.
He looked up at her, his pupils blown wide. “Tell me what you want, sweet girl.”
Her stomach clenched at the nickname, desire flooding her veins.
“I want you,” she admitted, voice trembling with need.
His jaw clenched, his restraint visibly slipping. “Are you sure?”
She nodded, cupping his face. “Yes. I need you.”
In a blur of movement, she was on her back, Carlisle hovering over her, his weight pressing her into the couch. He kissed her deeply, hungrily, before trailing his lips down her body, worshiping every inch of her with his mouth.
He peeled the sweatpants from her legs, taking her underwear with them. His fingers traced up her thighs, spreading her open before him.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice wrecked.
He didn’t waste any time. His mouth was on her, tongue sliding between her folds, teasing her clit with slow, deliberate strokes. She cried out, fingers gripping his hair as he devoured her, his tongue circling, flicking, sucking.
She was so close, her body trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Let go,” he murmured against her, his voice like sin.
Pleasure crashed over her in waves, her thighs shaking as she came against his mouth. He groaned, gripping her hips to hold her still as he licked her through it, savoring every drop of her pleasure.
When she finally caught her breath, he kissed his way back up her body, his lips finding hers once more. She could taste herself on his tongue, and the thought only made her want him more.
She reached for the hem of his shirt, pushing it up. He sat back just long enough to strip it off, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his stomach. Her fingers traced over them, marveling at the perfection of him.
Then her hands dipped lower, slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. She felt him—hot, heavy, and thick in her palm. He groaned, his head falling forward as she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking slowly.
“Y/N,” he growled, his breath ragged.
She bit her lip, meeting his gaze. “I want you inside me.”
He kicked off his sweatpants and settled between her legs, lining himself up with her entrance. He paused, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.
She cupped his face. “You won’t.”
With one slow, careful thrust, he pushed into her, stretching her inch by inch. She gasped at the fullness, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping to the crook of her neck. “You feel… perfect.”
He gave her a moment to adjust before pulling back and thrusting forward again, setting a slow, deliberate pace.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. He groaned, his grip on her hips tightening as he picked up speed, each thrust hitting deeper, harder.
Their moans filled the room, mixing with the sound of skin against skin.
“I know, love,” he panted, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Come for me.”
A few more thrusts, and she was falling apart again, her body tightening around him. He cursed, his hips slamming into hers as he chased his own release.
With a final groan, he pulled out, spilling on her stomach and breast as he whispered her name like a prayer.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, their bodies tangled, their breaths mingling.
Then Carlisle lifted his head, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.
The soft golden glow of morning filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting warm streaks of light across the sheets. Y/N stirred, sighing as the soreness in her body reminded her of the night before. She was naked beneath the covers, the faint scent of Carlisle still lingering on her skin.
Every time she thought they were done, Carlisle had pulled her back in, whispering her name in that deep, velvety voice, his hands tracing the curves of her body like he was memorizing her. He had worshiped her, again and again, until she had collapsed against him, boneless and spent.
Now, she stretched lazily, rolling onto her back. The sheets were cool beside her. Carlisle was already up.
The distant sound of movement in the kitchen caught her attention. A small smile tugged at her lips as she reached for his shirt from last night, slipping it over her head before padding barefoot toward the source of the noise.
When she entered the kitchen, she found Carlisle standing at the counter, his broad back to her. He had changed into black sweatpants and a fitted long-sleeve Henley, the fabric hugging his muscular shoulders and arms in a way that made her mouth go dry.
He was flipping pancakes, his veiny hands effortlessly maneuvering the pan. A fresh pot of coffee steamed beside him, along with a plate of eggs and toast.
Her heart skipped at the sight.
"You’re cooking again?" she asked, her voice still husky from sleep.
Carlisle turned, his golden eyes lighting up at the sight of her in his shirt.
"You need to eat," he said simply, a small smile playing on his lips. "You barely did last night, and I kept you… occupied."
Heat rushed to her cheeks. "That’s one way to put it."
He smirked, setting a plate in front of her as she sat at the kitchen island. He leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips.
"Good morning," he murmured.
"Morning," she whispered, her stomach flipping.
They ate together, the air between them comfortable, though electric with everything that had happened the night before.
But soon, reality crept back in. She had to go home before Charlie started asking questions, and there was still so much left unresolved about Esme.
She kissed Carlisle one last time before heading out, the memory of his hands on her still burning beneath her skin.
By the time she got home, it was early afternoon, and she barely had time to process everything before Bella came bursting into the living room, looking frantic.
"Where have you been?" Bella demanded, eyes wide.
"It doesn’t matter," Bella cut her off. "You won’t believe what happened last night."
Charlie had just walked into the room, sighing. "She’s been like this all morning."
Y/N frowned. "What happened?"
Bella ran a hand through her hair. "The others didn’t show up—just Mike and Jacob. Then Mike got sick, and Jacob almost got into a fight with Mike for no reason. But that’s not even the weird part."
She took a breath. "Jacob had a fever… like, he was burning up. And then, after I got home, he called me saying he’s really sick now, but something feels wrong."
Y/N felt a chill run down her spine.
Charlie sighed. "Probably just the flu. Half the town’s sick right now."
Bella shook her head. "No, it’s not just that. He was acting weird. Saying things that didn’t make sense…"
Y/N exchanged a look with Charlie, then sighed. "You should let him rest, Bella. I’m sure he’ll be fine."
Bella bit her lip, looking unconvinced. But there was nothing more to be done.
Still, as Y/N headed upstairs to her room, a bad feeling settled in her stomach.
And she wasn’t sure any of them were ready for it.
Tag list: @inky-bonnie @irelanrose @i-cant-pick-an-aesthetic09 @wandererthemadhatter
