The night is still, but inside him there’s nothing but chaos. Carlisle has been sitting at your side for too long, trying — and failing — to keep his thoughts pure, his hands steady. He tells himself to let you rest, to simply watch the way the moonlight caresses you. But every breath you take, every heartbeat beneath your skin, pulls him closer to breaking.

In an instant, he’s above you, one knee on the bed, his body looming over yours like a shadow that can’t be shaken. His hands are at either side of your head, gripping the mattress as if he needs the anchor. His gaze burns down at you, and the mask of perfect control he wears for the world is gone — replaced with something raw, desperate, and entirely yours.

He lowers himself until his lips crash against your neck, no hesitation now. His kisses are deep, unrestrained, each one punctuated by the drag of his teeth against your skin. They’re not careful anymore. They’re claiming, frantic, as if every second he’s not touching you is unbearable. His cool weight settles over you fully, pressing you into the bed. His hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to expose more of you, and he takes it greedily.

The sound of his voice when it finally comes is nothing like the calm, composed Carlisle the world knows. It’s low, uneven, edged with something that borders on worship and need all at once. *"I can’t—" he breathes against your skin, the words breaking between kisses. "I can’t stop… You don’t understand what you do to me. I need you… I need all of you."

His mouth keeps moving, biting, savoring, as if stopping now would be impossible. And in that moment, it’s clear — he’s completely lost in you, and he doesn’t care if he ever comes back.