We belong together|CarlisleCullen fanfiction|

Chapter 1

Kayden is beautiful when he comes.

"Are you close, baby?" I ask him, ducking my head down to kiss him. He moans loudly and clings to me, throwing me off my rhythm a little when he tries to pull me closer. He loves to be close.

"C'mon, tell me," I prompt him. "Are you almost there?"

He nods furiously, his forehead brushing against mine. His lips are pressed together, white with strain, and I wonder again what he's holding back from me. What he still won't say after all the times we've been together like this.

"Talk to me, Kayden," I beg him, lifting myself up on my knees. I speed up, thrusting into him relentlessly while he whines and bucks his slim hips against mine. "Are you gonna come for me?"

I take his cock in my hand, still slick with lube, and stroke him until he starts to thrash.

"Come, baby," I beg him, knowing I won't last much longer. His body stiffens and he throws his arm over his face, covering his eyes. "Kayden," I groan.

He shudders through his release, whimpering even while his mouth stays tightly closed.

He's beautiful.

I love the way his creamy, smooth skin glistens with sweat from the effort of straining and writhing below me. The soft, reddish hair on his head, usually so carefully arranged, gets all sweaty and disheveled. His face ... is probably lovely, but I'm not really sure. He always hides his eyes from me when he comes.

I first saw him three months ago; we've been fooling around ever since then, but he's only let me fuck him a handful of times. I thank the gods of road construction every day for ruining my usual route to work-if First Avenue hadn't been closed down this summer, I wouldn't have been forced to take Spruce instead. I wouldn't have left earlier to compensate for the extra time it would take to get to work. I wouldn't have stopped at the Starbucks near campus instead of the local place downtown I've been going to for years.

I wouldn't have met Kayden.

He made my latte that first day, chatting with me quietly while he worked. I flirted shamelessly with the cute coffee boy, not really expecting it to go anywhere, but when I picked up my cup it had a message scribbled on the side:

555-9484. Please?

I called him that night and teased him about being so bold.

"What made you so sure I'm even gay?" I asked.

"The way you looked at me-I just thought ..." he stuttered.

"No, you were right. I was looking at you like that," I confessed. His breath hitched.

"You're embarrassing me ..."

He gets embarrassed so easily, my shy boy. On our first real date, beers at the High Q, he was so quiet that I wondered if he'd changed his mind, if he didn't really like me. Not until he threw himself at me in the parking lot, flinging his thin arms around my neck and burying his face in my shoulder, did I realize he was just as smitten as I was.

I find my release right after he does, pulsing inside his warm body. When I come back to my senses, Kayden is still lying beneath me with his arm thrown over his face. I pull out of him carefully, quickly pulling off the condom and tossing it in the trash can next to my bed. He's breathing hard, in short little gasps, and I worry that he's hyperventilating.

"Sweetie, calm down," I beg him, flopping down onto the bed. I pry his arm away from his face, but his eyes are still closed. "Just come here."

I pull him against my chest, ignoring the sticky cum covering his belly. "Shhhh," I tell him, rubbing circles over his lower back. He tucks his face into my shoulder and shudders one more time before relaxing into me. "Good boy," I tell him, trying to comfort him.

"Oh, Carlisle," he whispers, nestling closer. "Say that again?" he adds, his voice so soft that I can barely hear him.

It seems like an odd request, but Kayden never asks for what he wants-ever-and I don't want to discourage him from doing it.

"Good boy," I repeat, and he moans quietly against my skin. My mind starts racing, wondering why he's reacting so strongly to those words. Why he's holding me tighter but finally relaxing. I want to ask him about it, but he always seems so fucking vulnerable afterwards that I don't want to push him. Tomorrow-I'll talk to him tomorrow for sure. For now I just hold him until he comes back to me, until he pulls himself away, lays his head on my pillow, and stretches out like a cat.

"That was awesome," he says, reaching out to touch my cheek.

"Awesome, huh?" I love to tease him about his juvenile vernacular; he's twenty-one and an intelligent college student, but sometimes he talks like a kid.

"Totally, dude," he says, rolling his eyes at me.

"I think I'm a little old to be called dude," I retort, even though I'm only ten years older. Kayden bites his lip, probably holding back a comment about my age. "C'mon, let's go get cleaned up," I tell him, urging him up off the bed. "We got you all messy."