Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but I did come up with the plot. So please, don't repost nor copy this without asking me first, mmmkay?

Title: TIE ME DOWN

Pairing: Edward/Carlisle

Summary: Arrogant, talented and young Edward Masen discovers he doesn't need to be in control all the time, and Dr. Cullen will show him how simple following orders can be.

Betas: MaverickWrit, Nails233 and ButterflyBetty.

Warnings: SLASH/BDSM/LANGUAGE/NSFW/GRAPHIC LEMONS

INTRODUCTIONS

I'd known that I was gay since high school, freshman year.

I went to a wrestling match to support my sister's boyfriend and left with the most painful hard-on of my life. After that, I did a little research and found a gay club in the city that admitted underage guys. I went there and wasn't even carded. I always knew I looked older than my age, but I'd never passed as legal until that night. And before the evening was over, a guy in his twenties took me into the back room.

That night I got my first blowjob.

My parents had known that I was gay since I came out to them during junior year; by then, I'd already lost my v-card and had quite a bit of experience in deep throating, all thanks to my friends Peter and Demetri. I'd met them at the same club I went to originally, and I'd liked their eagerness to discover more about what being gay in the city meant. They were also underage, just a year older than me. That didn't stop us nor slow us down, and we acquired a reputation in the club.

That year I discovered I was a bottom.

Senior year changed everything for me.

My parents decided to move to a small town in Washington State. Port Angeles was a nice place to live. We had a big back yard, something we had never had in Chicago. The house was big enough for me to have my own bathroom and walk-in closet, which my little sister Alice enjoyed too much as well. There was also a beautiful solarium, which thrilled my mom Elizabeth to no end. She immediately decided that my piano would look great in there.

My dad Edward, Sr. gave me my own car, since I'd be going to Seattle on the weekends for rehearsals. I had been invited to play with the Seattle Symphony during the summer, and rehearsals would start in three weeks. Not that I needed to practice. I was very well acquainted with the composer they were honoring this season.

Did I mention that I was piano prodigy?

My mother often bragged to her friends back in Chicago how I had learned to play the piano before I could even walk. I bet she wouldn't hesitate to do the same here. She'd been a piano prodigy herself, but the difference between her and me was that I wanted to be the prodigy that everyone admired, while my mom had been forced into it. She had the talent, but she lacked the heart. I had the talent and the heart, which is why my mother spoiled me rotten when it came to my music; so much so that when I turned fifteen, I managed to convince her to buy me a beautiful midnight blue Steinway baby grand.

My father just rolled his eyes and wrote the check. He knew better than to argue with my mother once she had her mind set on something.

Much like me.

Anyway, it was for this reason that, during the week, I was to go to an even smaller town named Forks, where Dr. Carlisle Cullen would be tutoring me in music composition and collaborative piano and helping me get ahead before I left to attend Julliard after graduation. Dr. Cullen was famous for his piano and orchestral compositions. He mixed his innate musical talent along with his intellectual skill to create unique pieces with the most unconventional instruments.

I was so curious and excited to meet him that I completely forgot I was supposed to wait for an hour after school before heading to his house set back in the woods. So there I was, an hour early and driving down the long lane to his house, which was hidden from the main road. If I hadn't been focused on looking for the entrance, I would have totally missed it.

I slowed down, made the turn, and headed down the drive. For a minute, I thought I'd taken the wrong turn but then the dirt road opened and I couldn't help but gasp at the sight in front of me. There stood a two-story modern house made of wood and glass. It was absolutely stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows with wood horizontal shades hanging inside made up the entire front of the house. I would have bet the rooms barely needed any extra lightning, since the tall windows would provide more than enough.

Stone paths lead to a glass door upon which two C's in elegant font had been frosted. I walked to it, completely mesmerized by this amazing house. Once I reached it, I rang the doorbell.

"Who is it?" a smooth voice from the intercom asked.

"Um . . . it's Edward Masen, I'm here for the—"

"You're early, come back in forty minutes."

Click.

What the fuck?

I rang the doorbell again.

"What?"

"Well, I'm already here! I thought perhaps we cou—"

"Fine! Wait in the damn foyer, and you better not wander around."

Buzz.

I swallowed down the growl that threatened to burst free at his rudeness. I mean, what was his fucking problem? So I'm a little early; I thought teachers were supposed to be all pro-punctuality and eagerness! Jeez!

Walking inside, I looked around the place. To my left, the room opened to a big living room with an L-shaped sofa and a divan, all in white. A massive, dark stone fireplace sat nestled in the far wall, dominating the room. In front of me, there was a staircase and a hallway that lead to two big wooden sliding doors. To my right was the formal dining room, with a table for eight and a painting of the city of Prague hung on the back wall. Everything looked neat and clean. All the furniture was white and was accented by dark natural wood, making the rooms warm and comfortable. There were splashes of color on the walls and art work, which added a little more brightness to the space, but it was pretty simple, almost bare. And yet, it felt lived in. It felt like home.

My jaw hit the floor when the most beautiful man I'd ever seen descended the stairs. He had dark blond hair, penetrating blue eyes, a straight nose, pouty lips, a medium build and the sexiest toned forearms I'd ever seen were revealed by the rolled-up sleeves of his black shirt. He was talking on the phone, and I couldn't help but admire his strong, commanding, smooth voice.

"I will need those papers for tomorrow; I'll send you his contract this afternoon. Thank you, Jenks."

I think I felt drool coming down my chin.

"You'd better close that mouth, Mr. Masen. Unless you want me to put it to good use?"

I snapped my mouth shut and felt my cheeks warm.

He chuckled, gave me a once over, and shook his head; then he sighed and murmured something that sounded like "Eager pretty boy . . ."

I smirked. "Ooookay, how about a tour?"

"What you see is what you get." Pointing at each room, he started naming them. "Living room, dining room. Down the hall is the music room. Upstairs are my study and bedrooms. At the back, it's the kitchen, sun room, and a small sitting room that opens to the back yard. That's it."

He had climbed down the last two steps as he finished describing his house and was walking toward the music room, when something caught my eye. "What about that door?"

He looked back over his shoulder to where I was pointing. There was a narrow door under the stairs, just barely my height and wide enough for one person. I knew the space was probably too small for a big room, but the fact he ignored it so blatantly caught my attention, and I was a very curious teenager.

"That's the door to the basement," he answered, completely dismissing it. Then he turned around and walked out of the room without a single glance back.

I followed him to the music room. There wasn't much furniture in there except for a couch and what obviously was a piano covered by a white sheet. Two of the walls were made almost entirely out of glass, following the theme of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The third wall was covered in bookcases, and there was a small ladder with wheels at the far left, like the ones you find in old libraries. The floor was dark cherry wood, and there was a furry carpet in front of the white semicircular couch.

Dr. Cullen walked straight to the big bookcase, stopping at a very expensive stereo. He waved his hand at the equipment, halting the soft music that had been playing.

That was pretty cool.

"I guess there is nothing interesting down there, huh?" I commented, looking around the bare room.

He chuckled darkly. "No, not interesting at all."

I frowned.

He made it sound like whatever was down there wouldn't interest me. I mean, what could possibly be in a basement that could be fascinating to anyone?

"You know, most houses in Forks don't have basements," I nonchalantly mentioned.

He hummed but didn't say anything.

Okay, he was being plain rude now.

I decided to stop questioning him, since it was clear that there was nothing important down there. So, I just shook my head, thinking perhaps I'd reading too much into things.

Dr. Cullen stood next to the piano. "I need to get the music from my study, which I was sorting and printing when you arrived here early. . ." He gave me a pointed look, clearly still not happy about my eagerness, "so, you'd better start warming up a little before we start," he said, pulling away the sheet that covered the piano.

I gasped at the sight of it.

There stood a long white Fazioli F308 grand. The shiny surface seemed to glow in the bright light of the room and I felt my fingers twitch to play it. The only time I'd seen another Fazioli grand was when I played at Carnegie Hall in New York last year. I'd fallen in love with the instrument right there and then, but not even my family could afford to buy that kind of piano when we already had a perfectly good and beautiful Steinway at home.

"Go ahead, start warming up," commanded Dr. Cullen.

I shook my head, trailing my fingers across the magnificent sleek surface of the instrument. "This is a beautiful piano."

He hummed in agreement.

"Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift."

His answer shocked me, "This is a very expensive gift."

"He was a very nice caregiver."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He sighed, "Nothing to worry your little head about, Mr. Masen. You should only focus on playing. Now, if you will?"

I shrugged and rolled my eyes at his cryptic answer.

"Don't!"

I jumped at the stern tone of his voice.

He took two swift steps toward me and looked down straight into my eyes. "While you are in my house, you will treat me with respect. I have a mile long list of other boys much like yourself waiting in the sidelines for you to screw this up and get your spot. So, you'd better take this seriously. Do I make myself clear?"

I quickly nodded, my eyes wide, shocked into silence by his sudden change in demeanor.

He took a step closer. "I said, do I make myself clear?"

My breath hitched and I gulped. "Yes, Sir."

He smiled with mischievousness flashing in his eyes. "Good boy. Now let's practice."

He tapped the top of the piano twice and walked out of the room like nothing had happened.

Bipolar much?

I dropped onto the plush bench and started playing some scales. I didn't even realize what I was doing until I looked up from the keys and saw my reflection on the window.

What the fuck was going on? Since when did I follow orders without question or talking back?

Did I just call him Sir?

He couldn't be older than thirty. I should be calling him by his first name!

"I don't hear you playing, Mr. Masen!" I heard him shout from somewhere outside of the room.

I flinched and started playing again. "Sorry, Sir."

Dammit! I did it again! What the hell?

I shook my head, vowing to analyze my behavior later at home, and focused on playing.

Dr. Cullen came back a few minutes later, and we dived right into work. He asked me about my music, and I confessed that while I tended to write simple harmonies for my compositions, my goal was to learn how to write more complex ones. He immediately asked for my iPod, which I gave him without hesitation. He kept that commanding exterior all through the class, and I noticed that it didn't put me out; I actually felt comfortable with it. I hated to overthink things outside my music and tended to like it more when I was given simple directions to follow in my day-to-day life. I guessed Dr. Cullen was the type of man who liked to be in control all the time, which was why we spent the rest of the class in a comfortable ease.

Later that night, as I listened to the songs Dr. Cullen had uploaded on my iPod, I couldn't help but examine my feelings about the mysterious man. I realized that I wasn't unnerved by his powerful stance and controlling temperament at all. In fact, I felt comfortable because of it. He made me feel—free?

I groaned and threw my pillow over my face, vowing to just go with the flow and stop overthinking things. That particular habit always brought me too much trouble, in my honest opinion.

Maybe with time I'd be able to form a friendship with the man. He seemed like the type of guy who didn't have many friends around. I certainly didn't notice any pictures of friends in his home. His personality was perhaps a bit of a deterrent for many people, though I thought that was kind of stupid. Certainly many would want to be friends with such a brilliant man.

Yes, I should pursue some sort of friendship or camaraderie with him.

At least by then, I'd finally feel comfortable enough to call him Carlisle.

Right?

This is a re-post. The story was originally posted in 2011, but the FF self appointed police had it pulled for violating the TOS. To be honest, I was more upset about all the reviews I lost (they were around 1k of them) but I knew the consequences of posting a story of this subject in this site. I hesitated in posting here again, but a few friends asked to please post here, since it's the most mobile friendly site they know.

So, here it is! Hope you all like and please leave me a review. Till next time, xo Mina