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Carlisle Cullen had spent the better part of three years envisioning the sight before him — Earnest’s bare form — seeing the image in the flesh only reassured him he was not meant to be creative, oh how his imagination failed him.
He wasn’t quite sure who precisely had initiated the interaction. What he did know was Earnest’s hands on his waist felt as good as he imagined, Earnest’s lips tasted like the vanilla and honeysuckle he smelled like, his skin was as soft as Carlisle visualized.
What he hadn’t expected were the colorful images which decorated Earnest’s biceps and chest, how they survived the transformation he didn’t know but he was glad they did. There was a large anchor on his right bicep, above that was the name ‘Grace’ in a thick black script. On the left bicep there was a bare chested mermaid, with a revealing tail, holding a United States flag. Below the mermaid were a series of four large deep scars, the raised greying skin glistened in the filtered moonlight peeking through sheer bedroom curtains.
“You don’t like them,” that low voice murmured above him.
Carlisle glanced up from the illustrated porcelain skin. Earnest’s head was resting against the hand carved oak headboard he had spent the better part of the previous December making. His eyes were barely open, eyelids sagging as if impossibly tired. His breathing was steady, his chest, decorated with the images of a large sailing vessel and a crudely drawn bird holding an olive branch, rising and falling slowly. There was a bite mark, Carlisle’s, right above the dove — it was the bite Carlisle had planted through layers of linens, it was careless and improper technique but he thanked God every day it worked.
“I do,” Carlisle said quietly, running a soft finger over the anchor. “I’ve never seen them on anyone besides circus performers.”
Earnest laughed a little airy laugh, no more than air blowing out of his nose, but in that moment Carlisle believed it was the most endearing thing he could have done. Perhaps it was the ecstasy of finally revealing their love for the other after many long years, or the aftermath of physical pleasure clouding his mind but he felt the compulsion to press a kiss to the tattoo of a name which haunted Earnest every minute, so he did. Earnest sighed deeply, his shoulders releasing tension neither men knew they held.
“You’ve never seen them on sailors?” Earnest asked after a few moments, Carlisle’s head coming to rest on his shoulder.
“I have,” Carlisle agreed, not understanding why that would make Earnest’s tattoos any less remarkable. He laughed to himself lightly as he realized. “I always forget you served, it doesn’t fit the you I know.”
“I wish I could,” Earnest sighed. Earnest carried the weight of the war with him, heavy baggage vignetting every ounce of happiness he experienced. He felt guilt Carlisle couldn’t begin to comprehend. He had experienced horrors, both on the front and behind closed doors when he returned home, Carlisle wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. For a long time Earnest believed, and had almost convinced Carlisle, joy was something he would never taste again. Did he still feel that way, even after…
“You’re fretting,” Earnest said, pressing a thumb on the crease between Carlisle’s brows.
“What’s the one on your left arm? The scar?”
Earnest took a sharp inhale through his nose. “Charlotte,” he said and Carlisle’s stomach dropped. That mon- woman did not deserve to have permanent residence on Earnest’s body, she didn’t deserve to know Earnest in the first place. “I ripped it out,” Earnest laughed a little.
Carlisle frowned at the scars, Earnest moved his arm over his chest so Carlisle could get a better look. “Did it hurt?”
Earnest shrugged. “A worthwhile pain,” he smiled slightly, pressing a light kiss to Carlisle’s cheek.
“I apologize I tainted this one,” Carlisle said, running a finger right below his wretched teeth marks.
“Don’t,” Earnest grinned. “It’s the symbol of peace,” he said, circling the bird with his finger, “and the man who brought me it.” His hand laid over Carlisle’s atop the bite mark.
Carlisle was positive he was the one who initiated the kiss that followed — he was even more positive it was met with even more fervor than he initiated, not that he complained of course.