Halloween Fest: The Best Halloween Ever

Author: mugglemom08
Pairing/MC: Edward/Jasper
Genre(s): AU, slash, romance
Wordcount: 1837
Prompt/recipient: #7
Rating: M
Warnings: Don’t like boys with boys? Don’t read.
Summary: Edward always does something special for Jasper for Halloween; what’s he up to this year?
This hasn’t been beta’d or pre-read. Also, I don’t own Twilight.

The Best Halloween Ever

Edward was up to something. He was throwing off vibes of nervousness and excitement that even a non-empath could’ve picked up on. Alice, of course, knew what was going on, but she wasn’t talking. She almost cracked when I offered to replace her Porsche with the latest model, but she saw something that changed her mind and started yelling at me for “almost ruining everything”. Whatever was going on, this was shaping up to be the best Halloween in all my 168 years.


I was never much interested in the supernatural as a human, but that all changed after my change. Once I became a mythological creature myself, I found my curiosity piqued by all things weird and creepy. Alice and Rosalie love Christmas, Esme gets giddy over Valentine’s Day, Emmett lives for the 4th of July, and Easter holds a special place in Carlisle’s heart. But me? My favorite holiday is Halloween. Edward has no preference–he loves them all equally–but knowing how much I love All Hallow’s Eve, he does something special for me every year. One year, it was a haunted house with each room dedicated to a different historical murderer (the murderers being portrayed, of course, by the rest of the family). Another year, the theme was “childhood Halloween”. We took our friend Bella’s twins trick-or-treating, then went on a haunted hayride (that Emmett almost got us kicked off of), and finally back home to watch scary movies. I think my favorite so far was the year he went with a traditional vampire theme. Our house was tricked out like Dracula’s castle, and we all had to wear capes and fangs. The icing on the cake was the collection of truly horrible vampire movies Edward put together (with Emmett’s help). A roomful of vampires laughing themselves silly isn’t something you see every day.


While the fourth floor was being transformed, I was banished to the living room. I tried playing video games with Emmett, watching TV, and reading; anything to shut everyone out. Finally, the swirl of emotions–the aforementioned excitement and nervousness, plus love, lust (lust? WHAT was he up to?), embarrassment, amusement–were too much, and I headed for the woods behind the house. I didn’t really need to hunt, but it would give me something to do. I couldn’t drive myself crazy trying to figure out what Edward and his sidekick were up to if I was in predator mode.


I was just disposing of my second deer when my phone vibrated with the all-clear from Alice. I double-timed it back home, and was surprised to find everyone gone. That was…odd. They were usually gathered around, waiting to see my reaction–when they weren’t actively involved, that is. I didn’t see Edward, either, so I called out his name as I walked through the kitchen to the living room. At this point I didn’t really expect a response, and I didn’t get one. I rounded the last corner and the main staircase came into sight. Lining both sides of the stairs were mini-pumpkins, hollowed out to hold white tea lights. Every flight of stairs and hallway between the living room and the fourth floor were illuminated by the pumpkins. When I reached our door, I pushed it open–and my jaw dropped.

Edward and Alice must’ve bought out every candle shop in the Pacific Northwest, because every flat surface in our room was covered with them. And sprinkled among the black, purple, and silver candles were more mini-pumpkins, these carved into jack o’ lanterns. Some simple, some elaborate, but no two alike. Hundreds of tiny flames flickered and danced, bathing everything in a warm, buttery light.

Mesmerized as I was by my surroundings, it took me a moment to notice Edward. When I did, my breath caught and venom pooled in my mouth. Leaning against our four-poster bed wearing nothing but black silk lounge pants, he looked like temptation personified. The desire was rolling off him in waves, and was potent enough to nearly bring me to my knees.

“I’m really glad I can feel how much you love me, otherwise all this fire would have me real nervous,” I cracked.

He grinned back at me. “No, my love, you have nothing to worry about. I have no intention of turning you into a pile of ashes. Most of them are LED, anyway.”

His face grew serious and he asked, “What do you think?”

Obviously he already knew what I thought about it, but I appreciated that he made the effort to ask me anyway.

“It’s beautiful, darlin’,” I told him. “I can’t imagine how long this must’ve taken, even with Alice’s help.” Edward had told me long ago that unless he absolutely had to, he didn’t use vamp-speed when setting up my surprises. “Getting it done as quickly as possible makes it seem like I want to be done with it–like it’s a chore. Nothing could be farther from the truth, Jazz. I love doing this for you.”

His mouth quirked up on one side. “Probably not as long as you’re thinking–thanks to Alice. She saw right away that we needed to divide and conquer; she drew and I carved.”

“I’ll have to thank her later–this is amazing.”

“I wanted to do something completely different this year. Halloween and romance don’t usually go together, but I wanted to try.” His eyes, black with want, flashed to mine as he read my thoughts. “And you’re just as turned on as I am, aren’t you?”

Before he could say anything else, I was across the room and had him pinned against the bedpost. “You have no idea. I’ve been feeling your lust since this morning, and coupled with my own? Darlin’ it’s driving me mad.”

I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him with abandon. He opened his mouth for me as I slid my hands into his hair and tugged gently. He moaned and brought his hands to my hips, pulling me closer. I felt his erection press against mine, and it was my turn to groan. Desperate for friction, I ground my pelvis into his, thankful once more that we were the same height.

Edward’s hands moved from my hips to my ass to the waistband of my pants. Before I had time to realize what he was doing, he’d ripped my jeans and boxer briefs from my body, and flung them across the room.

With one more hard, searing kiss he dropped to his knees and took me in his mouth.

“Fuck!” I cried out as I hit the back of his throat. Apparently we weren’t going for a slow burn tonight. I moved so I could grasp the posts at the foot of the bed just in time to stop myself from falling to the floor when he tongued my slit.

Teeth, tongue, lips, and long, elegant fingers came into play, bringing me to the edge of orgasm, again and again. Just as I thought I’d lose my mind if I didn’t get some relief, Edward bit down gently on the tip of my cock and pushed one venom-coated finger into my entrance.

I barely had time to call out his name before I came down his throat.

He licked me clean before standing up, eyes blacker than ever.

“On the bed. NOW!” he growled at me.

I climbed on backwards, never taking my eyes off him. His pants went the way of mine, and he followed after me on all fours. I’ve always thought Edward was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, but Edward prowling after me like a mountain lion stalking its prey? Hottest. Thing. Ever.

When my back hit the headboard, Edward grabbed my legs and pulled me flat. He planted his hands on either side of my shoulders, lowered himself onto me, and snarled in my ear, “And just where do you think you’re going?”

“Nowhere,” I spluttered, loving the feeling of his hard, heavy cock rubbing against me.

“Damn straight you’re not,” he told me, right before he nipped at my earlobe.

He continued biting me; my neck, my jaw, my collarbone. Softly at first, then harder when my growls and moans told him I needed more. The sting of his venom only enhanced my ecstasy. His hands on my ass held me in place as he rocked his hips against me, bringing my cock back to life.

Rolling away from me for a moment, he grabbed a bottle of lube from his nightstand drawer. His tongue traced circles around my nipples as he quickly prepared me.

He ordered me onto my hands and knees, and I didn’t hesitate to comply. He rubbed the swollen head of his cock against my entrance before easing his way inside. Once his pelvis was flush against my backside, he leaned over my back to whisper, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard.” That was all the warning I got before he pulled almost all the way out and then slammed back into me.



Edward drove into me again and again, harder and faster than would’ve been possible for a human. He was done teasing.

A hand in my hair brought me out of my pleasure-induced fog. One tug had me up on my knees, pressed against the front of Edward’s body. His other hand snaked around me and took hold of my length.

“I want you to come with me,” he said, the gentleness of his voice in complete contrast to the actions of his body.

He stroked me in time with his thrusts, and I soon felt my balls tightening. No sooner had I realized I was going to come than Edward was releasing into me. His orgasm triggered my own, and I came, painting the comforter and his hand with my venom.


Many hours and much broken furniture later, we lay on what was left of our bed, my head on Edward’s chest as he gently stroked my hair. There wasn’t an inch of me that he hadn’t worshipped, and I don’t think I’d ever felt happier or more loved.

“That was indescribable, babe. I just…thank you again for such a wonderful Halloween.”

“You’re welcome, my love,” he replied, kissing the top of my head. “Anything for you.”

“There’s just one problem,” I said, trying to bite back my smile.

“Oh, yeah? And what might that be?” he asked, my favorite cocky grin firmly in place.

“How will you ever manage to top this?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, darlin’,” he said in a perfect Southern drawl. “I’ll come up with something.”


Posted by on October 31, 2011 in Halloween Fest


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Halloween Fest: The Missing One

Author: ICMezzo
Pairing/MC: Carlisle
Genre(s): AU, vamp, general
Wordcount: 1125
Prompt/recipient: N/A
Rating: T
Summary: Carlisle got home from the hospital, he toed off his shoes, draped his jacket over the top of his favorite chair, then went upstairs to wait.
All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc., mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express authorization.

The Missing One

When Carlisle got home from the hospital, he toed off his shoes, draped his jacket over the top of his favorite chair, then went upstairs to wait.

He decided to relax. A warm bath would do nicely and he still had plenty of time before… before.

He gathered just enough candles to sufficiently light the bathroom, then drew the water into the tub. Shedding his clothing in a pile on the floor, he stepped into the water and sat down, the delicious wet heat slipping against his pale skin, warming his body, and slowly seeping all the way into his bones. He leaned back, and resting his head against the edge of the bath, closed his eyes and let his mind drift.

His mind returned again and again to churn over what was to come.

But warm bathwater did that, Carlisle mused. It lulled you into such a state that your mental faculties were weakened, and the barriers you’d built slipped unnoticed down the drain.

Perhaps a bath hadn’t been a good idea. He sighed and opened his eyes. Lifting a hand from the water, he ran it through his hair and blinked in the candlelight. Perhaps candles hadn’t been a good idea either. Their soft flickering light almost gave matters an air of legitimacy Carlisle wished they didn’t possess.

After all, the first time, he’d been scared—to think, a vampire, scared!—but even if he’d gotten used to the visits now, they still unnerved him a little.

It happened every year at this time, late September, when the weather had a chill in the air and the leaves on the trees showed inclination of changing. Carlisle could hear the wind whistling outside. Not in a blatant howling sort of way… nothing so obvious as that, but simply unsettled air, dancing through the treetops, and creeping through the cracks of his windows and beneath his doors.

A phantom chill ran down his spine, and he dropped lower into the steamy bathwater.

Last year, September 24 had fallen on a Monday. This year, a Thursday. The first time, it had been a Wednesday. Carlisle supposed the day of the week didn’t matter very much, but his mind recalled every single detail, whether he wanted it to or not.

He slipped his toes out of the water and wiggled them a bit with the perfect control he’d now known for centuries. Were vampires lucky to experience years and years beyond their rightful share? He hadn’t been sure in the beginning. Over the centuries, however, he’d become more and more grateful for all the time that he had.

With that thought, Carlisle decided it was time to get dressed again for his…visitor. He cleared his throat, and stood up to let the excess water drip from his frame before grasping a nearby towel and stepping from the bath. Wrapping it around himself, he drained the water, gathered his discarded clothing, and headed the necessary few steps into his bedroom. He pulled on his pajama bottoms and a light shirt and wrapped himself in his robe before locating his slippers, supposing his ensemble to be decent enough under the circumstances. After toweling his hair dry, he hung it back in the bathroom, and finally sat down on the edge of his bed to wait.

He studied the floor at his feet. Listened to the wind. Watched as the lights of an automobile brightened the walls of his dark room before fading away again.

Vampires did a lot of waiting, he’d learned. He fell back to the bed and studied the ceiling, relaxing as much as he was able to there on his soft maroon bedspread, dressed in his navy robe and fuzzy slippers.

He felt like another year had gone by when he finally heard the soft voice from the foot of the bed.

Carlisle sat up abruptly to gaze at the pale form, as pale as his own, but possessing a translucency impossible for any vampire. For any living thing, really.

It was the same figure that visited him every year on this night, on the anniversary of Carlisle’s mistake, though truth be told, he crept into Carlisle’s thoughts far more often than that.

“Carlisle Cullen,” the transparent boy—well, young man—said, his voice calm and sure. “My mother wishes me to remind you once again that promises are not to be broken.”

“I know,” Carlisle whispered. “I’m sorr—”

“And that a man is merely as good as his word,” the boy continued.

“Yes,” Carlisle replied frantically, getting to his feet. “I know. I’m so sorr—”

“And that,” the boy paused as Carlisle went to him and attempted to grasp him, his arms moving smoothly through what should have been the boy’s chest, forcing Carlisle to admit efforts to hold the boy were futile.

“And that,” the boy said again when Carlisle stepped back, stricken, “if you had wanted to see me more often, you should have thought of that before.”

The boy promptly faded into wisps of white, dissolving into the air like the steam from Carlisle’s bath.

“Edward!” Carlisle gasped at the nothingness where the young man had stood. “Come back. Please! I’ll do anything!”

Edward never did, though, not until the same day the following year, a shadow with a message of what could have been.

A door slammed below, startling Carlisle.

The soft feminine voice of his wife called to him from downstairs. She was home from her meeting then. He supposed Emmett and Rosalie would be back soon from their movie as well. And Alice and Jasper would probably return at some point, though they might have gone hunting, as Jasper was still struggling a bit with his diet.

The house would soon be filled with chatter and laughter and love as everyone gathered that evening. He’d only made his mistake once, after all. The other times, he had done what he had to do, and as a result, a cluster of vampires surrounded him, forming his dear family.

But still, he couldn’t help but know that his family was incomplete. And so, until the following September, on a cool night as dark as this one, he’d spend quiet moments haunted by the missing one.


Posted by on October 31, 2011 in Halloween Fest


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Halloween Fest: Once then Always

Author: avioleta
Pairing/MC: Carlisle/Alec
Genre(s): Canon (post-BD); vampslash; angst
Wordcount: 7400
Prompt/recipient: Prompt #11, Inebriation (for vampireisthenewblack)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: explicit m/m sex and a bit of blood; please consider the pairing before reading. Alec is older yet physically younger than Carlisle. Not technically underage, but could be considered offensive nonetheless.
Summary: “What are you doing here?” The boy grins. “Come now, Carlisle, don’t you know your ghosts always find you on All Hallows’ Eve?”
The characters aren’t mine. The words are. Please heed the warnings and rating. I mean it.

Once then Always

Carlisle stares down into the dark crimson liquid. In the dim light of the room, it almost looks like blood. Almost.

He bites back a laugh. Perhaps it’s time to feed.

He takes a slow sip, allowing the flavors to roll across his tongue. Though the wine is thin and cheap (they serve nothing else in this place), it is still earthy, peppery, and smooth. He enjoys the pleasant burn of the alcohol as it warms his throat, his belly.

Esme would be appalled. But then she never understood his vices.

He drains the glass and signals the bartender for another, wishing (just for once) he could be drunk, that the alcohol would cloud his too-perfect mind, would make him forget, would make him numb. But, of course, the blood in his veins is not his own, and no amount of wine or whiskey will pollute it.

He sighs; the dark wine shimmers in the flickering light, casts a thin shadow on the table.

Some nights, he actually wants them to find him.

It would be a fitting punishment for his crime, really. And then there would be no more running. No more wondering when.

He doesn’t sleep, but he still has nightmares. Sometimes he doesn’t even have to close his eyes.

He sees Aro’s eyes, looking up at him. They are pale and bloodied and always softly accusatory. He’d been shocked at first, but then his thin lips curved into a sickening and knowing smile. ‘Of course, Carlisle, my child’ he whispered (as hands closed around his neck) ‘You must protect your own.’

Other times he sees his family. The little girl, still clutched in Bella’s arms. Esme, eyes wide, a pale hand over her mouth. And Edward. Always Edward, resigned and tired (more tired than he’s ever seen him), hand on his wife’s back as he nods. ‘Of course, you must go. We’ll see you again soon.’ He’d smiled that easy smile then, though they both knew it might be for the last time.

No. He shakes his head, presses his palm to the worn surface of the bar. It had to happen. It was the only way. After all, he never had a choice.

He wants a cigarette but is certain the bartender won’t allow it, even in a place as sordid as this.

He thinks about the miracle that is his child. He hates that she will grow up (too quickly, it seems), and he will not be there to see it. She will know what he did (for her, for her mother, her father), but she will not know him.

Minutes pass. The bartender checks his watch, wipes down the counter with a grimy rag. The bar is relatively empty at this hour.

He hears him approach and sets his glass down carefully. His breath catches. Perhaps, finally… But no. The boy is alone. Carlisle purses his lips, as he takes the seat beside him. He refuses to look, refuses to acknowledge his presence. Instead, he takes another sip of wine.

The small vampire watches him for several minutes. Carlisle can feel his eyes on him, searing and hot on his skin. He exhales a shaky breath but does not turn his head.

“Why do you do this?” the boy asks after several long moments, motioning toward the glass in Carlisle’s hand. Full lips curl in distaste. “It can’t actually be pleasurable, can it?”

Carlisle shrugs, leans forward to rest his elbows on the bar.

“I mean, the blood in your system is not actually your blood,” the boy continues, “so the alcohol can’t affect you.” His voice rings with such conviction that Carlisle nearly laughs. Of course, he would never understand, but he looks at Carlisle, hands folded primly on his lap, and it is clear he expects a response.

“I appreciate the aesthetics,” he offers vaguely, twisting the stem of his glass between pale fingers.

The boy rolls his eyes. “You were never one for practicality, were you Carlisle?”

He shrugs again. “What are you doing here?”

Alec grins, pink lips curving to reveal perfect white teeth. “Come now, don’t you know your ghosts always find you on All Hallows’ Eve?”

Carlisle narrows his eyes; he doesn’t want to play this game. He’s known the child for nearly the entirety of his immortal life, and he still has trouble reading him. Alec’s expression softens slightly. He almost looks contrite. He reaches a hand out as if to touch Carlisle’s arm but thinks better of it and quickly tucks it back between his knees.

“What are you doing here?” Carlisle repeats. His voice is cold and rather harsh, but he doesn’t care. Not really.

The boy bites his lips; for a moment he looks unsure. “I had to see that you were safe.”

His honesty startles Carlisle. He turns to look at him.

The boy glances down; wisps of reddish hair fall into his face. Carlisle resists the urge to brush them off his forehead. He swallows thickly. “Now you have.” He picks up his wineglass again; the black red liquid glints against the curve of his palm. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why did you do it?” Alec asks suddenly; his voice is very small.

Carlisle says nothing. He knows the boy is grieving. He’d known Aro longer (and more intimately, perhaps) than even he had. After all, Aro had sired Alec and his twin.

The boy breathes out slowly, watching him, unnatural eyes dark. His hands, graceful, elegant, and small are clutched so tightly together that his knuckles are white. “You foolish fucking bastard,” his mouth twists savagely, a sneer marring his delicate features.

Carlisle hides his flinch; it always surprises him to hear such obscenities slip easily from Alec’s childish tongue.

His eyes flash dangerously. “It was for him, wasn’t it?”

“It hardly matters now.”

The boy inhales sharply. It’s clear he’s struggling to maintain his composure. “But it doesmatter.” Petulance and something else entirely bleeds into his voice. “They’ll find you.”

Carlisle takes the last sip of wine. “It doesn’t matter. It was the only choice.”

Alec looks as though he might protest but says nothing. Instead stares moodily across the bar. Colorful bottles line the glass shelves along the wall (cerulean blues, jewel toned greens, and golden yellows).

Carlisle sighs. Sometimes he wonders if he did the right thing, if it really were his only choice. But it’s far too late to change anything now.

Aro is dead. He is responsible.

“Did her shields actually work?” he asks after a long moment. “Were you really unable to get through?”

The boy shrugs thin shoulders but does not respond.

“Alec?” he prompts. He needs to know.

“There were cracks…” he trails off, pale fingers picking at the sleeve of his sweater, and he leans forward again, hair obscuring his eyes.

Carlisle waits for him to continue, but he does not.

“If Bella’s shields did not work, why did you encourage Aro to stop the attack?”

The boy looks up at him scathingly, as though the answer should be obvious. “Because it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth you.” The last is said in a hissed whisper, a soft exhale of sound that Carlisle almost doesn’t hear.

Something warm unfurls in the pit of his stomach (like alcohol, like blood).

“Besides,” Alec says then, eyes fixed on his, “the child was innocent. She did not deserve to die.”

Carlisle nods, sliding his thumb along the lip of his wineglass. He can’t help but worry about his family, hope that they are still safe, alive. But he has to think that they are. After all, they are the reason he has condemned himself to this life of exile, of fear.

But he hasn’t spoken to anyone in seven months. He doesn’t even know where they are.

“Why did you leave them?” the boy asks. And though his eyes betray nothing, his tone gives too much away.

Carlisle answers truthfully (doing his best to choke back the sudden rush of grief). “I had to.” He’s said it so many times by now, he almost believes it.

Alec nods, pushes a strand of unruly hair behind his ear. “You protect them. You always have.”

“Marcus and Caius would have targeted them,” Carlisle says, “just for being with me.” He sighs and turns toward the boy beside him. “You know that. Now, though, I have to believe that they will be spared because I am no longer there.”

The boy nods again but says nothing. He rests an elbow on the bar-top but immediately jerks back again, a positively horrified expression on his face. He tentatively touches one fingertip to the counter. “It’s…sticky.” He looks at Carlisle as if it’s somehow his fault.

Frankly, Carlisle is rather impressed that the child has sat here this long. His tastes are absurdly aristocratic. Alec tugs his arms to his chest and looks around, as if he’s only now noticing his surroundings.

The bartender emerges from the back storeroom, a case of beer in his arms. He sets it down on the counter with a grunt and then glances down the bar at Carlisle and Alec. His eyes widen in shock, but then his expression darkens.

He lumbers toward them, wiping thick hands on a dish towel.

Carlisle closes his eyes; he knows what’s coming.

The man’s nostrils flare. “Now I don’t know what you’re playing at, but he can’t be in here.”

Alec sighs loudly; Carlisle thinks he does exasperation quite well.

“Oh, dostop worrying,” he says, boyish tongue dripping with condescension. “I doubt I’ll be drinking any of what you have to offer.” With this, he lets his eyes slip appraisingly over the man’s chest before they flicker back to his face.

Carlisle knows the exact instant the man notices (a sharp intake of breath, a step backward). His back hits the cabinet behind him; his heart is beating too fast (a thrum of blood in Carlisle’s ears).

Alec sits perfectly still, red eyes unblinking. Then he smiles. His teeth are far too white and far too straight.

Carlisle watches him closely. Though he doesn’t believe the boy will do anything foolish, he knows all too well what he is capable of.

The man gasps; he’s gone rather pale. “I…I don’t know who yeh think you are, but I’m telling you, if you don’t leave now, I’m gonna have to throw you out.” His voice is choked; his hands clutch the countertop.

Alec laughs, a childishly clear sound that is positively chilling. “I think not,” he says calmly, cocking his head to the side. “In fact—”

Carlisle places a hand on his arm, and the boy stops. He looks down, brow furrowing as if in confusion. “Oh…okay.” He looks at Carlisle again. “Perhaps we should take this elsewhere.”

He stands. Carlisle pulls a twenty-pound note from his pocket, slides it across bar. The bartender hasn’t moved. But when Carlisle places a hand on the small of Alec’s back, guides him toward the door, he hears the man exhale, “fucking pervert…freaks is what you are.

Alec stiffens, starts to turn around, but Carlisle’s fingers tense against his back. “No.” And the boy nods once. Carlisle knows he won’t be able to return, but it hardly matters now, not since the boy’s found him.

Though the man (wisely) says nothing else, Carlisle can practically hear his disgust as they slip outside and into the cool night air. But he doesn’t care. They rent rooms by the hour next door, and he’s quite certain the man has seen worse than whatever he expects Carlisle is taking the boy off to do.

“How did you find me?” he asks as Alec hurries to match his longer strides.

“Oh please,” he rolls his eyes. “If Marcus and Caius knew how predictable you were, you’d be dead already.”

Carlisle shrugs. He’s probably right.

He’s staying in a rundown motel three blocks away. The building is squat and decrepit (nearly as wide as it is tall). It is not a place he would have ever considered going near before. But, of course, things are different now.

Streetlamps cast an orange glow on the slick pavement; Alec shoves his hands in his pockets and follows Carlisle inside.

The foyer is as dingy as the building’s exterior. The once black and white tiled floor is gray with years’ of dirt and dust and grime. A single bulb flickers in the fixture overhead, bathing the small entryway in sickly pale light. The night attendant behind the counter does not look up from his tabloid.

It’s for the best.

Carlisle ushers the boy past, and they ascend the narrow stairs quickly. Alec keeps his arms pulled tight to his thin chest as if terrified that some of the squalor might rub off on his person.

Carlisle chuckles. “It’s not contagious, you know.”

The boy raises an eyebrow skeptically. “I’m not entirely certain about that.” His pink lips curl as the reach the third floor landing.

Carlisle is quite sure he doesn’t want to know what has stained the carpet.

“You certainly know how to pick a lodging,” Alec scoffs, “don’t you?” He sounds as though he’s holding his breath (he might well be). Carlisle wouldn’t blame him.

His room is on the fourth floor. They pause as Carlisle digs in his pocket for the key. Alec glances down the dim hallway (arms still wrapped round his chest). The carpet was once white perhaps, but after years of neglect it’s soiled, threadbare, and stained.

He pushes the door open and flicks on the light. A single lamp illuminates the room. The shade is cracked and faded. He tosses his keys and wallet on the dresser and turns back to the boy. Alec is still hovering just inside the door, assessing the surroundings critically.

“What are you doing here?” he asks after a few moments. His lips press together, and his fingers tug at the sleeves of his jumper. He clearly believes that such appalling conditions should be enough to make Carlisle stop running, to hand himself over to Marcus and Caius, to whatever punishment they devise.

“You already know why I’m here, Alec.”

“But surely you can afford much better.” He traces a semi-circle on the floor with the tip of his shoe. “I was under the impression that your family was quite wealthy.”

Carlisle bites back a laugh. The Volturi, of course, have the means to ascertain exactly how much the Cullens have in their accounts at any given time. That is one reason he chooses not to access his funds. “I’d rather not aid them in their search,” he responds simply. “Money leaves a trail.”

The boy scrunches up his nose as though he’s smelled something foul. (He might have.) “But surely you can maintain a level of discretion without living in some sort of…” his eyes dart around quickly, “of hovel.”

Carlisle doesn’t respond. The boy wouldn’t understand anyway. He stands there, fingers curled in the hem of his sweater, watching him.

“Why did you do it?” Alec finally says, repeating the same question he’s already asked. He reaches out hesitantly to touch a fingertip to the peeling floral printed wallpaper, making no attempt to mask his distaste.

Carlisle wants to laugh. The boy has never been anything but horribly spoiled. He shrugs. He already answered this question. “I had to.” He doesn’t want to have this conversation again. He doesn’t want to talk about Aro. Not now. Not ever. And certainly not with Alec.

“But you didn’t,” the boy says, and his voice catches slightly. He glances down at the greasy carpet and, for a moment, he looks so young. Carlisle almost feels sorry for him.

“I did.”

“No…no,” his voice breaks again, and he closes his eyes, sucks in a ragged breath, tries to compose himself. “He was stopping. You’d won.” His voice is soft, broken. All at once, he sounds as young as he looks, and Carlisle’s chest aches just a little.

“You know as well as I do,” Carlisle says softly, taking one step toward him, “he does not stop…would not stop.”

Alec looks up, his expression is pained, but he says nothing.

Carlisle continues, “he conceded the battle, but he does not give up that easily. He would have come back.” He takes another step, reaches out, drags a finger along the boy’s jaw. “It was never over.”

“I…” Alec stops, eyes fluttering closed. “I hate that he’s gone.”

“I know.”

“You loved him.”

Carlisle nods. “In a way, yes. But there was no other choice.”

The boy does not open his eyes. “I hate that.”

“I know.”

Alec stands perfectly still; Carlisle slides a hand down his arm. “He was mad.”

“I know.”

“They did not deserve to die.”

Alec catches Carlisle’s hand in his; his thumb traces a circle on the back of his wrist. “I know.” He looks up again, red eyes dark and dangerous. “But I hate that you did it for him.”

“For all of them.”

The boy shrugs. “For him…and his wife and his child.”

“They did not deserve to die,” Carlisle repeats.

Alec bites his lip (pink flesh caught between perfect white teeth). “No. But neither do you.”

Carlisle says nothing. He holds the boy’s gaze firmly in his own.

“I don’t want to lose you too,” Alec whispers after several long moments. His chin trembles slightly. Carlisle wants to cup it between his hands.

“You won’t.”

“Marcus and Caius—”

“Will tire of this chase eventually. They will return to Volterra. They will forget about me.”

Alec nods but does not look convinced.

Carlisle takes off his coat and lays it carefully over the back of the room’s only chair. The boy watches him closely. He hasn’t moved.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Alec says after a long moment. He rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet and licks his lips; he presses his knuckles to his mouth. “Oh God, Carlisle… Why did you do it?” He whispers the words, and then there are hands on his shoulders, pushing and pulling, and teeth at his neck, sharp and painful. “Why did you do it?” he says again, and his voice is cold and harsh but tinged with something heartbreaking and desperate.

“You ruined everything,” Alec half cries, half sobs against his throat. And then his tongue is there, licking a line up Carlisle’s jaw. “How could you?”

Carlisle’s hands tremble as they settle on the boy’s waist, large and heavy and awkward as Alec quakes against him, breath ragged and wet against his skin. “Don’t you know how much I needed him? How much I need you?”

“I know. I know,” he gasps out, fingers smoothing over the boy’s forehead, pushing ridiculous lovely red blond bronze hair out of his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

And the boy kisses him, clumsy and needy and more teeth than lips or tongues.

“Oh…oh God…” Carlisle wrenches himself away, breathless and shaking and lost, lost.

“Are you…are you all right?” Alec asks. His hands are tugging at Carlisle’s top button, and then his mouth is pressing hot kisses along his collarbone.

And no, no he’s notall right because this thin slip of a boy never fails to devastate him. “We can’t. We shouldn’t.” But Alec is grinding helplessly against him, and he can feel his cock, hard and young and moving, moving against his thigh.

“Yes, yes we…oh fuck…” the boy hisses, hips still rocking. “Do you—”

No. He doesn’t. He can’t, but he’s dry mouthed and aching, and his fingers dig into the perfect curve of the boy’s arse, holding him closer as he continues to grind and grind against him.

“Beautiful,” Carlisle breathes, and he is surprised his mouth has managed to form the word. “You’ve always been beautiful.”

And the boy is still (still) moving, small hands clutching tightly at his arms, untidy head thrown back, pink lips parted softly. “Car— Carlisle…oh, oh God,” and at the feel of warm wetness against his thigh, Carlisle has to bite his lip to keep from coming in his trousers like a teenager, like Alec, shuddering against him.

“Oh…oh,” the boy is still moaning, as he trembles, boneless and weak-kneed in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

And Carlisle can’t stop touching him (though he shouldn’t…he shouldn’t). But his fingers smooth over round, flushed cheeks, trace the pale column of his lovely neck, slide down thinly muscled arms to lace their fingers together.

“What are you doing here?” Carlisle asks the question this time — once he can think, once he can breathe, once he can speak again.

“I told you,” the boy sighs, “I needed to know that you were safe.”

“And that information is readily available to you.” Carlisle’s voice is thick and rough. “You will surely know the moment I am captured. Until then, it would be reasonable to assume I am safe.”

“Yes. But that’s not quite the same now, is it?” Alec is still touching him, fingers curling around his wrist to stroke smooth skin underneath the sleeve of his shirt. “I’ve missed you.”

These last words are barely spoken (a whisper, a faint huff of sound). Carlisle is not sure he’s actually heard them, but something flashes in the boy’s eyes, and Carlisle recognizes it instantly, knows he’s heard correctly.

Alec’s expression changes again. The boy’s moods are mercurial at best. But then again, children are rarely known for consistency. His lovely terrifying eyes darken slightly; it makes Carlisle’s stomach twist and his cock throb (don’t come, don’t come). He doesn’t let go of the boy.

He should pull away. He should not let this happen again (not now, not ever). Still, he can’t help but cling to the small body (like ivy, like vines).

It’s wrong. It’s beyond sinful. (Another reason among a thousand why he’s surely damned.) The boy is a child, despite how long he’s been that way. And Carlisle shouldn’t want what he wants.

He swallows thickly. “You shouldn’t be here.”

But Alec tugs Carlisle’s hand to his waist, and he can feel firm muscles slide under his palm. The boy leans in, and he can feel warm cold breath ghost across his neck. It’s familiar and intoxicating, as Alec’s mouth brushes over his.

Once. Twice.

He pulls back slightly and can feel the boy’s mouth on his cheek, and that simple sensation draws forth a multitude of memories he’s tried hard to suppress. They skip across his mind like stones, some smooth, some jagged cutting and sharp, but all brilliant (like a spark of flint on rock, hot and hard and shining).

His chest is too tight; it shouldn’t be this difficult to breathe.

“Stop,” Alec whispers. “I know what you’re thinking. And we’ve been over it before.”

“I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Yes, we should.” He laces his fingers through Carlisle’s again. “You weren’t even my first. You know this.” Alec never fails to bring this up, and Carlisle is not sure if he means to reassure or simply make him jealous. If it’s the latter, he’s successful.

“I don’t know why you continue to beat yourself up over it, over wanting me,” he continues, thumb stroking along the back of Carlisle’s hand; he closes his eyes. “After all we’ve done. After all this time.” This is whispered, a gust of breath against Carlisle’s neck, and the boy pulls his hand to press against the front of his trousers, damp and sticky, and oh, oh God.

He remembers their first time perfectly (memories mirror sharp, crystal clear) just as his flawless mind recalls every time since. He’d hated himself for wanting him. Hated the boy for wanting him, for letting him touch him taste him tease him fuck him. And he hated even more that he hadn’t been the first to do those decadent delicious depraved things to him.

“I’m glad he’ll never touch you again,” he gasps, capturing the boy’s mouth in a brutal kiss. “No one else should touch you.”

Alec’s breath hitches as the possessiveness in his tone, but still the boy whispers into his mouth, “come now, Carlisle, you know Aro would have never touched me unless I wanted it.”

“I know. And I will always hate him for it.”

The boy’s forehead creases. “Yes, but you have me now.”

Carlisle sucks in a breath and can’t help but want want… He swallows thickly, and Alec tugs his hands to his waist, settle his hands on Carlisle’s hips, thumbs pushing at the waistband of his trousers.

And they’re kissing. (Alec’s mouth is soft and sweet and achingly familiar.) Teeth scrape against lips, and Carlisle’s hand smoothes over the curve of the boy’s arse, tugs him closer. The other curls around the boy’s neck, palm warm against smooth skin; his fingers thread through bronze hair, as Alec lifts his face up for another kiss.

Carlisle is not tall (Edward is taller…), but Alec is (will always be) a head shorter. Still, he seems to fit perfectly against him. His palm smoothes down the boy’s spine, slips under his sweater so fingers can splay across his back. And he always knows, despite wanting to forget, exactly how the boy feels against him – the soft expanse of skin, the narrow jut of hips, the press of a thigh between his.

Their tongues slide together, slow and soft, and Carlisle remembers exactly how he tastes (as if it’s been minutes, not weeks, months, years). Alec’s arms are around his waist, and they stumble together until they’re on the narrow bed. The coverlet is scratchy and no doubt filthy, but he doesn’t care because the boy’s legs are around his waist; his heels dig into his thighs. Red eyes look up at him hotly.

Carlisle cups his face between his hands, mouth moving against his as they kiss and kiss again.

Alec pulls away, sits up long enough to tug his sweater over his head, toss it onto the floor. His hair is mussed. A reddish blond strand sticks to the corner of his mouth. Carlisle brushes it away. The boy’s lips are wet, already red and swollen, and his cheeks are flushed (a lovely pretty pink).

Carlisle exhales shakily, as small fingers undo the last of his buttons, push his shirt off his shoulders.

His tongue slides along Alec’s lips, skims across his teeth, drags over his throat, as he rolls his hips into the boy’s. He can feel him hot and hard (again) against his thigh and shifts his hips, presses down against that hardness, gasps as their cocks slide together again and again.

Alec rolls them over. Carlisle likes how strong he is. A benefit of his particular diet, but it makes him think, perhaps, that he’s not so young.

The boy sits up on his knees; the zip of his trousers strains against the swell of his cock. Carlisle licks his lips, his fingers already pulling at his belt while Alec’s hands slide down his chest, tug his shirt out of his pants.

Palms skate over his abdomen, cause Carlisle to shiver, suck in a breath.

“Alec,” he gasps, rocking his hips underneath the boy’s.

“Missed you,” the not child says, leaning down to lick to the corner of his mouth. “It’s been too long.”

“I hate wanting you like I do,” Carlisle admits, hand brushing over Alec’s cheek. He can’t stop shaking.

His usually so steady hands fumble with the boy’s flies, push apart the plackets of his trousers. Dark wool frames the wet white of his pants.

Carlisle can see the smooth pink red curve of cockhead peeking over the waistband. Alec grabs his hand, pushes his palm down to his arousal. They both groan as he grinds against their fingers. Carlisle slides his thumb down the line of his erection, warm and hard through thin cotton.

Alec arches his back, pushes hips forward into the press of his hand. “Please,” he breathes.

Carlisle slides his trousers and pants down, and Alec kicks them off as Carlisle’s fingers slip over the curve of a narrow thigh. “Yes. Touch me.”

His throat is dry as his hands pluck at buttons, yank at the boy’s shirt. It hangs off his shoulders, the tails fall open over Carlisle’s lap as Alec straddles him. Carlisle shifts his hips and cannot remember how to breathe.

“Touch me,” the boy says again, head falling back, red lips parting. Carlisle slides a hand down his chest, fingers brushing over a hard pink nipple. Alec bites his lip, curves his spine (a half moon-shaped arch). His cock is small and flushed against his stomach. Carlisle leans up, presses a breathless kiss to his forehead, his shoulder (yes, oh yes…).

He swirls his tongue in the shell of the boy’s ear. He’s aching, desperate and the boy’s fingers are there, sliding his zip down, slipping a warm palm in to curl around his prick.

He hisses, arches up, and the boy bends over, presses his mouth to the tip of his cock. Carlisle gasps, as his perfect tongue licks around the head, slides down the shaft, and then curls around him, wet and warm. “God, yes…more” he moans, bucking up, fingers twisting in the boy’s bronze blond hair. And he hates that he wants the boy to suck him, to make him come, and he hates it even more that the boy’s done this to someone else…that he’s not the only one.

He was not the boy’s first. No. Aro took care of that. But Alec was his. His first (his only), but the boy doesn’t know, will never know.

The boy is gorgeous as he licks Carlisle’s cock, wet tongue sliding along the underside, swirling around the head before his mouth opens, swallows him again. Carlisle traces the hollows of his cheeks with trembling fingers, and Alec sucks him slowly, lips sliding up and down until he hits the back of his throat (but he doesn’t gag).

Carlisle’s hips jerk up; he can’t help himself, and suddenly he knows he’s about to come.

The boy pulls back, letting his cock slide out of his mouth with a soft pop. “I want you to fuck me,” he breathes, and Carlisle inhales shakily, presses himself up on his palms, and kisses him. He can taste himself on the boy’s lips, musky and thick and aroused.

“Do you have anything?” Alec asks, arching his back, pushing his hips against Carlisle’s.

“In the bag,” he gasps, as the boy bends over, fumbles beneath the bed for the small vial of oil. His fingers shake a bit as he uncaps the bottle. It spills over his fingers, runs down his hand. He reaches down between his legs, smoothes small fingers over his opening. Carlisle hisses at the sight, watches as the boy pushes one fingertip inside.

“God, yes…” he groans, hand curling round his own cock. “Get yourself ready for me.”

“You like this, don’t you?” the boy asks, head thrown back, fingers pressing, pushing, slipping inside his body.


“What do you want, Carlisle?” he whispers, fingers fucking himself slowly. “Tell me what you want.”

Carlisle holds his breath. He slides his hands down slender arms. He loves the play of muscle under too smooth skin. Alec’s lovely body had only just begun to fill out all those many ages ago when he was turned. And Carlisle hates that he loves, wants, needsthis body (forever caught between adolescence and adulthood).

“I want you to ride my cock.” He laces his fingers through the boy’s, slicks his hand with oil. The boy shudders, gasps at his words. (Sometimes Carlisle pretends he’s innocent, pretends he hasn’t had all this before.)

He slides his now slick hand along his aching cock, smoothing his palm over the head, then he grasps the boy’s hips, holds him still, and Alec reaches between them to line himself up. Slowly, slowly, he lowers himself down, and Carlisle inhales shakily, slowly as the boy slides down, inch by inch.

Finally he seats himself, splays his knees wide, and Carlisle can’t help but roll his hips, close his eyes.

“Oh…oh God,” Alec breathes, throwing his hands back, bracing himself behind, and he is so tight and warm and young, that Carlisle has to grit his teeth and try, try not to come.

“Fuck…fuck yes…” he gasps, jerking his hips up as the boy moves on top of him. Carlisle hisses, clings to the boy’s waist to hold him still as he thrusts up and up again.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you,” the boy moans, eyes wide, pupils dilated.

“Yes, please…” he manages, hands falling away.

The boy bites his lip, twists his fingers in the duvet and rises up, knees pressing tight against Carlisle’s thighs. Carlisle moans as Alec pushes down, lifts up again, again.

“You like that, don’t you?” he gasps, rolling his hips, arching up, sliding down over Carlisle’s cock.

“Yes…yes…make me come.” Carlisle is shaking, stomach muscles clenching, and he can’t help but push up against him. He reaches out to curl his fingers around the boy’s lovely cock, but Alec bats his hand away.

“No…no, don’t.” He moves faster, harder, as he lifts his hips and falls again, prick bouncing wetly against his stomach.

Carlisle’s hand clench (nails bite into his palms), his thighs tremble, and he cries out, “I…fuck Alec, oh God…”

He comes hard, mouth open, hips jerking beneath the boy. Alec groans, tensing around him, making Carlisle gasp again. And then he’s coming too, small cock spurting; thick warm strands smear across Carlisle’s stomach, onto his chest. His legs tremble against Carlisle’s sides, and his head falls back (bronze lovely hair slides over his eyes).

The boy slips down against him, languid and spent. His chest heaves and Carlisle smoothes a hand over his back, feeling the slick soft perfect skin under his palm.

“Perfect,” Carlisle breathes. Always perfect.

They lay together for a while. Carlisle’s fingers trace the boy’s ribs, slide across his thin chest.

“I think I could love you,” Alec says, voice soft and smooth, “if I were to love anyone at all.”

Carlisle sucks in a breath. He thinks, perhaps, his heart clenches a little. His heart, damned and useless, quiet, forgotten, cold. But now (perhaps) he thinks he feels it shudder.

He stands up.

The bedsprings groan as the boy rolls over. He props himself on one arm, cheek resting on the palm of his hand. The sheets twist around his hips. He watches Carlisle steadily as he dresses, pulls on his trousers, untangles his shirt from the pile on the floor.

Carlisle lights a cigarette. The tip glows red orange in the dim light of the room. He inhales deeply; smoke coils between his fingers.

“But I’m certain I will never understand you,” the boy says, standing. He lets the sheet fall to the floor. Carlisle takes another deep drag to hide the sharp intake of breath. He really is beautiful.

“That is, perhaps, even more disgusting than your choice of rooms.”

Carlisle inhales again, enjoying the way the smoke burns his throat, his lungs. For a moment, it almost makes him warm (away from the press of the boy’s skin).

Alec frowns, pink swollen lips curling in disgust. “Surely they would not approve.” His words drip with derision. There is little love lost between Alec and the Cullens.

Carlisle doesn’t care. The boy bends at the waist, tugs his pants back on. Carlisle can’t help but notice the way the fabric slides over narrow hips, clings to the curve of his perfect arse. “I do a lot of things my family would not approve of, when I’m away.” He lets his eyes slip down the boy’s still bare chest before tracing a circle around one pink nipple with a fingertip. Alec can’t repress the shudder.

“It’s positively vile. That and the drinking.” His eyes narrow and he steps back slightly, “like some…human.”

Carlisle laughs, a harsh sound, even to his own ears. He holds the cigarette to his lips again and exhales a thin stream of smoke into the boy’s face. Alec coughs then glares at him. Carlisle finds he quite likes the way his small mouth curls in disgust. He takes another long drag before stubbing the cigarette out on the window ledge. The dingy curtains twist in the crisp breeze.

The night is suddenly too quiet.

Carlisle does the last of his buttons and straightens his collar before calmly fastening his cuffs. He sits down on the narrow bed (sheets now rumpled for the first time, since he’s occupied the room) and laces his shoes. “Perhaps you should dress,” he says.

The boy still stands at the window. His trousers are undone, damp and wrinkled. His shirt hangs off narrow shoulders. Alec shrugs, fingering a purpling mark just above his collarbone.

Carlisle smiles at the indentation of teeth. Faint pink scratches crisscross the pale planes of the boy’s flat stomach and disappear beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“I think they know,” he smiles a bit wistfully, fingers tracing a line along the dusty windowsill. “You have never been able to resist me, after all.”

Carlisle laughs, slips the last of his few personal items into the small duffel bag he carries. “No, I suppose not.”

Alec cocks his head to one side, blond bronze hair sliding into his eyes. “Aro used to laugh, you know…” Something painful twists in Carlisle’s gut at the name, but he keeps his expression carefully blank as the boy continues, “he said you picked himbecause his hair was exactly the same shade as mine.”

He says nothing. Even if it were true, he would never admit it. Not out loud at least.

Alec purses pink lips and regards him thoughtfully. “He’s too old, though. You didn’t find him soon enough.”

Carlisle frowns. He’s never liked this line of questioning. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No,” the boy says, red eyes glinting rather maliciously, “I suppose it doesn’t.” He steps closer to Carlisle. Too close.

Even though he’s just come, he can feel his cock swell again. Alec laughs, smoothes small fingers over the noticeable bulge. Carlisle hisses, and the boy tilts his head up to slide his tongue along his jaw. “You’ll never have himthe way you have me,” he whispers, lips against Carlisle’s throat.

“No,” he agrees, clutching at the boy’s hips, pulling him into one more brutal kiss. “I don’t suppose I will.” Carlisle runs a palm down his chest (smooth and hairless and perfect perfect…).

He glances at his watch. “They’re nearly here.” It’s not a question.

The boy is silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, I had to. Jane only let me slip away because she knew I’d come to you.” He ducks his head, face half hidden in shadows.

Carlisle nods, “I know.” His thumb circles the jut of a white hipbone. “I’m glad you found me. But I have to…”

“Yes,” the boy cuts him off. “I know.” He looks up again, leans his head back, exposing the perfect pale column of his neck. “He was young.”

Carlisle runs his tongue along his throat, and the boy gasps. “Not like me, of course. But sweet.” He tangles his fingers in Carlisle’s hair. “I knew you’d like him.”

Carlisle’s mouth is already watering. He has never fed from a human, but he can excuse such a…necessary indulgence.

Alec cries out when his teeth pierce soft skin; his body tenses for an instant, and then he relaxes against him with a sigh. Carlisle shudders at the warm rush of blood over his tongue, in his mouth, as he slits open the vein.

It’s exhilarating and intoxicating and addicting all at once.

The blood is rich and sweet. The boy was right, of course. It is perfect (honey slick, and golden rimmed) as it washes down his throat. Carlisle pulls Alec’s thin body against his; the boy’s lips part, red eyes flutter closed.

Carlisle pulls back, gasping. He’s fully hard again, and Alec slips a hand between them, stroking him slowly. “You do like it,” he says dreamily, eyes opening again. “I knew you would.”

“Of course I do, brat,” he responds softly, affectionately. “How could I not?”

Alec exhales, a gentle puff of air against his throat; his fingers press against Carlisle’s cock through the wool of his trousers. “I knew you would,” Alec repeats, looking up, eyes glassy and bright.

He titles his head to lap at Carlisle’s lips; blood coats his tongue, paints his mouth a cherry red. “It is lovely, isn’t it?” he sighs decadently.

“Yes,” he agrees, hands framing the boy’s face, “as are you.”

“Where will you go?” he whispers against Carlisle’s mouth, voice soft, becomingly slurred.

“Away from London.” He curls his hands around the boy’s slim hips, pulls him impossibly close. “I…”

“Shhh…” Alec presses a finger to his lips, “it’s all right. I don’t really want to know.”

Carlisle nods. “I’ll find you.”

“I know.”

Small fingers curl into Carlisle’s belt loops, and he sighs as Alec slips a thigh between his legs, rubs against him (languidly, catlike). His head lolls slightly, and he smiles lazily.

Carlisle slides his tongue along Alec’s neck, catching the blood that still seeps from two perfectly placed puncture wounds. His skin is soft and creamy smooth (like butter, like milk), and though his round cheeks are flushed (with exertion, with arousal), he is unnaturally pale.

He steps back, willing his breathing to calm, willing his erection away. But it’s futile, of course.

The boy tilts his head, regards Carlisle through half-slitted eyes. “Come now, love. You’re not stopping, are you?” He runs a finger down the side of his neck.

Carlisle’s breath catches. “But you, I…” his tongue stumbles over the words as Alec steps closer again, splays warm palms against Carlisle’s chest.

“I don’t want to take too much.”

“Don’t be absurd.” The boy gives him a withering look. “That israther the point, isn’t it?”

Carlisle hates that he can’t disagree.

The boy smiles sweetly, looping his arms around his waist. Carlisle kisses him, an unhurried slide of lips and tongue. “You have to go soon,” Alec murmurs against his mouth.

“I…I know.” He’s shaking as he sinks his teeth once more into Alec’s young flesh, groaning as warm, sweet thick blood rinses over his tongue (oh, oh God…), and Carlisle knows this is what drunkenness must truly feel like (delicious, unrestrained, divine).

The boy sways against him, eyes fluttering back into his head. Carlisle clutches at his hips, holds him upright, and continues to drink and drink.

Finally, he pulls away, smoothes his tongue over Alec’s neck to seal the wound.

“Don’t,” the boy breathes, voice shaky and slurred. “Leave it.”


“No. It must be convincing.”

He nods, presses his mouth to Alec’s pink lips once more, and he sighs (sleepy and dazed), his small body limp in Carlisle’s arms. His head falls to the side; his eyes drift closed.

“Don’t let me fall.”

“Never.” He lowers the boy to the floor, just as he hears movement on the stairs. Carlisle sweeps his thumb along his jaw, his lips, and Alec moans but does not move. Carlisle knows he’s taken everything he had to give. He is strong (immortal of course), but he will need time to recover. He is helpless now. He will need to be fed.

He presses a last kiss to the corner of the boy’s mouth before moving to the window.

Carlisle slips out just as the door bursts open.

“Alec!” He hears his twin’s high-pitched shriek, as he falls to the street four floors below.

And then he is gone.


Posted by on October 31, 2011 in Halloween Fest


Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Halloween Fest: Cold Fingers

Author: vampireisthenewblack
Pairing/MC: Bella/Leah
Genre(s): AU, romance, femmeslash, wolf pack,
Wordcount: 496
Prompt/recipient: N/A
Rating: PG
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Both of us were abandoned, jilted by the men we loved. AU, femmeslash.
Disclaimer: SM owns all.

Cold Fingers

I’m not going into the forest. I can hear the screams and hollers of the guys and I’m not going in there.

“Jake’s waiting for you. Thinks if you get scared enough you’ll wanna snuggle. He waits all year for Halloween.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Bella.” Leah taps her forehead. “I get a front row seat to ‘what Jacob wants’, remember? As long as you’re still alone he’ll never give up.”

My fingers tingle with the cold. I reach out toward the fire to warm them. I think the pack forgets sometimes that I’m just a regular human. They don’t feel the cold, but I do. “I don’t want another guy. Edward was—”

“Beautiful and sparkly and a gentleman and perfect and bla bla bla. He left you behind, in case you’ve forgotten. Asshole.”

I smile. Over the last couple years I’ve come to really like Leah. There’s a kind of kinship between us. Both of us were abandoned, jilted by the men we loved.

The fire isn’t helping, so I pull my fingers back and shove them between my thighs.

“Cold?” Leah asks.

I pull my fingers back out and make my hands into fists. “Just the tips. It’s too close to November to be out without gloves on.”

“Here.” Leah reaches out and grabs my hand. Folding it into her fingers she grabs the other and does the same. I look up into warm brown eyes and smile. Her heat seems to flow through me, warming my whole body. A blush creeps over my face and I drag my eyes away.


I look back. The fire flickers and flares in the wind, sending swirling patterns of gold up Leah’s bare arms. She lifts my hand and brings my frozen fingertips to her lips, kissing each of them, one by one. Her lips are warmer than her hands and my fingertips burn, like cold feet in a too-hot bath. She does the same to my other hand. “Better?”

I stare at her in shock. “A… a little.”

“Hmm,” she says, then kisses the tip of my forefinger. This time, the look in her eyes as she stares over our joined hands makes my stomach flip.

Then she sucks my finger into her mouth. I gasp because of the heat, because of the intimacy and because of the hungry look in her eyes. She draws my finger past her lips, all the way to the knuckle, then pulls off with a pop. “That vamp is a fucking idiot to leave you, Bella.” She drops her hands with mine enclosed down to her lap and drags her eyes back to the fire.

I can feel the heat of her through the short denim cut-offs she’s wearing.

“Leah,” I breathe.

“Yeah, Bella?”

“I’m still cold.”

Leah rubs my fingers in her hands.

“Not my fingers,” I force out.

She looks at me then, one eyebrow raised.

“My lips are cold,” I say, and I smile.


Posted by on October 31, 2011 in Halloween Fest


Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Halloween Fest: I Watch You Sleep

Author: She’s a Lunatic
Pairing/MC: mystery narrator
Genre(s): AU, horror, general
Wordcount: 100
Prompt/recipient: N/A
Rating: T
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Sometime soon, I’ll get tired of watching.
Disclaimer: Not mine.

I Watch You Sleep

I watch you sleep. When you close your eyes, I’m right here. I feel your warm breath on my face but you won’t feel mine. I don’t breathe.

Your heartbeat slows as you fall asleep. You won’t hear mine.

You won’t hear me at all. I don’t make a sound.

But you feel me watching you.

You open your eyes. I’m gone before you can see me. You tell yourself you’re imagining it.

You’re not. I watch you. There’s nothing you can do to protect yourself. Sometime soon, I’ll get tired of watching. Sometime soon, you simply won’t wake up.


Posted by on October 31, 2011 in Halloween Fest


Tags: , , , , ,

Halloween Fest: Through the Woods

Author: Starry
Pairing/MC: Eric Yorkie, Paul, Jared
Genre(s): AU
Wordcount: 11,188
Prompt/recipient: @mauralee88 – Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? I want a creepy/scary take on Red Riding Hood.

A young man is on his way to visit his grandma when his car breaks down. He’s on a back road, in the middle of the woods, alone in the dark. Our brave driver leaves his car behind and begins walking towards civilization, but there’s something, or someone, in the woods and they’re following him.

I want the Quileute’s to be dark. They’re protectors, sure, but they’re not necessarily good. Maybe they see the young man as a threat, or maybe one of them imprints. Regardless, I want one of the pack to stalk/chase/herd the young man and eventually confront him. Is it really consensual when fear influences your decision?

Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? I want a creepy/scary take on Red Riding Hood.

A young man is on his way to visit his grandma when his car breaks down. He’s on a back road, in the middle of the woods, alone in the dark. Our brave driver leaves his car behind and begins walking towards civilization, but there’s something, or someone, in the woods and they’re following him.

I want the Quileute’s to be dark. They’re protectors, sure, but they’re not necessarily good. Maybe they see the young man as a threat, or maybe one of them imprints. Regardless, I want one of the pack to stalk/chase/herd the young man and eventually confront him. Is it really consensual when fear influences your decision?
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: graphic sexual content; non-con, spanking, oral, rimming, felching—language
Summary: Even to him it sounded like a bad fairytale; a twisted version of Little Red Riding Hood that would forever haunt him. — Eric Yorkie was just a normal boy with a normal problem on, what he thought was, a normal night. Soon, he realizes there’s something very abnormal in the woods and, whatever it is, seems to have an interest in him.
I do not own The Twilight Saga in any way, shape, or form. I just ‘borrow’ the boys for some sexy times.

Through the Woods

He looked up at the dark sky, his eyes narrowed and dangerous, silently daring the heavens to release its hold on the threatening storm. Lightning flashed and he jumped when the thunder followed. He was tempted to give the cloudy night sky a very rude gesture, but he resisted the urge as he turned his attention to his parents’ car.

Scowling deeply, Eric Yorkie kicked the rim of the flat tire before spitting out a curse, his foot throbbing in protest. “…stupid car…stupid weather…” he snarled as he started towards the opened truck. He continued to mumble under his breath as he searched through the back, but he came up empty just a few moments later. “Really?!” He growled spitefully in disbelief at the obvious lack of a spare tire.

Eric pushed a hand through his hair in frustration before he dug his phone out of his pocket. He flipped it open before calling his house. It took him a moment, but he soon realized that the call wasn’t going through. His phone wasn’t picking up a signal, as if his night couldn’t get any worse.

“Just fucking great!” he cried out, his angry voice echoing around the abandoned wilderness that surrounded the lonely, back country road. He shoved his phone back into his jeans then slammed the trunk closed before he hit the top, ignoring the sting in his hands as he walked back to the driver’s side.

He leaned into the car to grab the keys from the ignition, grasping them tightly in his hand as he scowled at his thin, red jacket—it wouldn’t be of much use to him if it did start raining, but it was better than nothing at all. Grumbling under his breath, Eric snatched his jacket from the passenger seat before slamming the car door closed with a little more force than necessary.

Home wasn’t that far away—he’d walk back into town.

Eric started down the edge of the road with that intention on his mind, pausing after just a few moments of walking to hit the lock button on the key fob. The beep-beep of the alarm activating actually startled him, making the young man jump in surprise as he suddenly realized just how alonehe really was and, for the first time that evening, he felt a prickle of unease curling in the pit of his stomach, but he shrugged it off.

He silently scolded himself as he walked along the road, his hands in his pockets and his jacket hanging between his arm and side. There was nothing to be afraid of, even as lightning flashed across the sky and the deep rolling thunder answered in return. The only thing out tonight was a stupid boy whose stupid parents forgot to put a spare tire in their stupid car.

Yet Eric couldn’t shake this strange anxiety that clung to him like a spider’s web stuck to his skin, refusing to let go and give him a little relief. He let out a sigh and glanced up at the barely visible night sky. The moon was full, round and partially covered by clouds. It was…kinda spooky, kinda scary and he wasn’t sure he appreciated the atmosphere mother nature had created.

Eric shivered, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was because of the chill in the air. Something just didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t sure what it was—he wasn’t sure he wantedto know what it was. He kept on walking, only pausing when he couldn’t shake the odd feeling that had overcame him. He pulled on his jacket and pulled the hood over his head, protecting him from the chill…

…and whatever else was out there.

The wind picked up, a strong gust dragged leaves across the road in front of Eric and the young man could smell the upcoming rain. It was the only warning he got before the first drops fell from the sky and landed on his cheek. Frowning deeply, he pulled his hood over his head and mumbled under his breath, “…just my fucking luck…” as his hands returned to his pockets.

He waited for the rain fall to grow heavier, a sullen frown on his face, but it never grew beyond a light sprinkle that barely soaked through his coat. For that, at least, he was thankful and then the wind shifted directions before dying down. Without the wind blowing, it was quiet and still. The only sound was the rain falling and his shoes scuffing against the road.

It was disconcerting.

He strained to hear something, anything that would take his mind off what he couldn’t hear. But there was nothing. He could feel his heart rate rise, he could hear his pulse in his ear as panic clenched in his body and then a twig snapped.

Eric jumped, stifling a yelp that would’ve had his friends laughing and teasing him for days, before he stopped dead. His eyes darted around, seeking out whatever had made the noise, all the while trying to convince himself that the rumors about the monster bears at school were just that; rumors.

Then a small, grey squirrel shot out of the woods and paused in front of him. The rodent stared up at him for a moment as though it meant to ask him why he was so afraid before it skittered across the road and disappeared into the trees on the opposite side.

Eric blinked once, twice and then let out a nervous chuckle before he shook his head in disbelief. “Get a grip, man…” he scolded himself as he started along the road again, breathing a little easier and a little deeper now that he knew there wasn’t a giant bear stalking him.

The forest is a noisy place, he silently reminded himself as his lips curved into a soft, simple grin. There would always be unexplained noises in the woods—branches falling, bushes and shrubs shuffling, animals moving, snapping and popping that shouldn’t bother him because they were natural

Perfectly normaland not at all frightening or, at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

He continued to walk, seemingly without a care in the world after having discovered that his fears were unfounded and, well, just plain silly. There was nothing in the woods that would get him, nothing that would attack or harm him and that included the giant bears everyone was talking about.

There was nothing, absolutely nothingand that was exactly what Eric thought the odd rustling in the forest amounted to—nothing, but perhaps another grey squirrel or some other harmless rodent. The rustling grew louder, but he didn’t allow it to bother him, even as soft footfalls seemed to follow him.

It was his imagination, his mind was playing tricks on him because of the dark and spooky atmosphere the night had become. It’s nothing, he told himself even as the tree line shook just feet from him. A shaky breath left him and the young man shook his head, telling himself again that there was nothing in the woods.

Nothing at all.

Except nothing didn’t growl; a low and menacing sound that stopped Eric in his tracks before he glanced around nervously to search for whatever was making that sound. It had to be close, it sounded like it was just beyond the tree line. His body shook as Eric realized it must’ve been stalking him, whatever it was, it was probably getting ready to pounce on him and have him for dinner!

A thousand different scenarios rushed through his mind, all of them fighting for recognition and all serving to frighten him even more as he pushed his hand into his pocket. He blindly searched for his phone until his fingers brushed against it before grasping it and pulling the cell from his pocket, all the while hoping that it would pick up a signal.

Eric flipped open his phone, letting out a sigh of relief upon seeing that he had enough of a signal to make a call. His fingers brushed over the keypad, intending to call his parents, but before he could key in the number he heard a vicious snarl in the woods. It startled him, causing him to drop his phone to the hard asphalt where it broke.

He stared at the shattered pieces of his phone for a long moment, unable to believe his stupid, rotten luck as he knelt down to pick up the broken bits. It was completely ruined, useless. He was stranded on some back road in the middle of La Push at night with some ferocious, unseen beast stalking him. His night could notget any worse he thought as he rose to his feet, shoving his broken cell phone into his pocket with a scowl before he paused in disbelief—he couldn’t believe how badly he had just jinxed himself. If this were a horror movie, he’d be dead by now.

The moon shone down on him as he stood in the falling rain, pushing a hand through his hair before deciding to continue walking into town. Eric Yorkie was no coward, he refusedto go back to his parents’ car and wait for them to realize that he wasn’t home yet. He walked on, but Eric didn’t get very far before another rustle in the woods spooked him.

It was getting closer, or at least that’s what it sounded like to Eric. He swallowed nervously, refusing to think about what was stalking him in the woods as he wished for his hands to stop shaking only to realize that his entire body was shuddering in fear. But he kept walking. Then he heard a low, rumbling growl. It was deep and drawn out, and sounded like it was justbehind him. Eric’s dark eyes widened and darted around before he quickly crossed the street, hoping that would be enough to deter the beast.

For a moment, just a small stretch of time, it seemed to work—he heard nothing, felt nothing and saw nothing in the woods as he walked along the opposite side of the road. Eric breathed deeply in relief, but the feeling was short lived as the woods shuddered again. His breath caught in his throat and he didn’t even have time to scream as a large monster stepped out of the woods, growling lowly and ferociously at him.

Fear blossomed in him, thick and suffocating, paralyzing him as he stared at the beast before him, his eyes wide with disbelief. It was like something straight out of a nightmare, and yet it was something shockingly familiar to him. The monster was a wolf, but unlike any canine Eric had ever seen. It was huge, bigger than the black bears that were native to the area. It was bigger than anything he had ever encountered before and, as he backed away from the monstrous wolf, he hoped he’d never have to see anything like it again.

It watched him. Its brown eyes were intent and fierce as it crouched low, as if preparing to pounce. Eric’s body stilled in fear and he knew he had to do something, anything, before the wolf attacked him. The wolf was a predator, it was dangerous, even more so that its sights were set on him. Eric did the only thing that he could; he simply reacted. He turned and ran just as the wolf finally lunged at him, missing him with a fierce snarl that made his blood run cold.

Eric knew it was chasing him, he could hear the wolf’s foot falls behind him as he ran back across the street, hoping to lose the monster in the woods. He thought he could feel the wolf’s breath down the back of his neck, but he was too afraid to look. He broke through the tree line and didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he had to get away. He had to put as much distance between himself and the wolf as he could.

But it was hard—almost impossible to get any headway as he questioned his decision to run into the woods. He wanted cover, protection and he thought that the forest would provide that. He was wrong. The woods were unforgiving and unfamiliar to him, they hindered him as he tried to get away. It was dark and Eric could hardly see the trees in front of him much less the roots on the ground.

The toe of his shoe caught an unearthed root and before he realized what was happening, he hit the forest floor. The fall was so hard that it knocked the wind out of his lungs. He gasped for air as he turned onto his back and stared up at the dark canopy, only to find his view impeded by the snarling muzzle of the wolf.

He started to scream, but the sound lodged in his throat and, in a panic, he kicked out at the wolf looking over him. He must’ve hit something vital, because the wolf let out a yelp before backing up slightly. Eric took the opportunity to kick the wolf for a second time and his foot smashed into the beast’s snout, causing the animal to back completely away from him. He rolled over onto his stomach before he stood up, and then Eric was running again.

This time the beast wasn’t following him; Eric couldn’t hear the wolf moving through the forest and he was sure he had inflicted enough damage to keep it down for awhile. So, he ran as hard as he could. He thought he was getting somewhere when he noticed the trees thinning out and the ground beneath his feet getting softer and harder to run through. He could hear the crash of the ocean and smell the salt of the sea water.

That’s when he realized how far he ran. He was standing where forest met beach, and all was quiet save for the sounds of nature. Eric breathed deeply, relaxed, and heaved a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the shadow of the woods and into the light of the full moon shining on the beach. The sand under foot was soft as he walked. He was safe, he silently told himself. He had, somehow, evaded the wolf and escaped. Perhaps the beast had given up and went off to hunt something else, something easier. He was safe.

He breathed deeply, inhaling the night air permeated with the scent of sea salt and ocean before he fell to his knees. Eric closed his eyes against the breeze and a smile broke out over his features. Finally this nightmare had come to an end, finally it was over. He opened his eyes and looked out over the ocean, getting ready to get up but then he heard it.

The snarl was low. He barely heard it over the rush of the waves, but it made him jump. Eric’s eyes widened in fear and he looked over his shoulder. The wolf jumped on him before he could scream. It pushed him into the soft sand and nosed at his neck. He felt its breath; it was hot and thick and terrifying.

His fingers dug into the sand, grasping at it, looking for purchase to push himself up, but the beast had him and Eric wasn’t going anywhere. This was really it. He had thought this bad dream was over, but it looked as though it was just beginning. Idly, he wondered if he would survive the night. He could feel the wolf’s paw pressing down into his back. It was difficult to breathe. He struggled to inhale and exhale. He knew there was no escape, so he just waited for it. For the inevitable.

“Jared! Jared, man! Back off!”

Hope rose within Eric’s chest and he didn’t know nor care who ‘Jared’ was, but all that mattered was there was someone else on the beach, maybe someone who could help him. Immediately he started to scream, “Help! Help!” It was the only thing he could do, but the wolf was quick to quiet him by growling a warning close to his ear.

Then Eric felt something strange. The weight that pressed him into the shore just disappearedand, instead of a paw holding him down, he felt a hand. A human’s hand. His body stiffened all over again and he wondered what in the hell was going on in La Push, Washington.

“What do you mean back off?! He kicked me in the fucking jaw, Paul!!”

The man above him—and Eric knew it was a man because he could feel his cock pressing into the curve of his ass—shifted slightly until his knees were on either side of Eric, but his hold did not relent. Eric still couldn’t move. “I’m not backing off until I get a little pay back,” he said, voice smug as his hand slid up Eric’s spine, resting against the back of his neck.

“The fuckyou say!”

Eric couldn’t see the other man on the beach, but he could hear the anger in his voice. It was cold and calculating, and unlike any anger he had ever faced before. It was terrifying. He turned his head, the damp sand sticking to his cheek as he sought out the other person. He needed to see him, he needed to know that he wasn’t the only one out there. Eric needed to know that he wasn’t alone.

It was dark, almost too dark, but the moon provided an eerie glow on the beach. Eric could see a vague outline, a dark figure standing out against the full moon just a few yards from them. He was huge, imposing and intimidating. The man—Paul, Eric remembered—was cut and built like a football player, all rough muscle and barely confined grace. He would’ve been beautiful if not for the way he looked at Eric; his eyes were socold and his lips quirked with a predatory edge.

Paul was a sight to see, that much was true, but Eric wasn’t sure if it was one he wanted to see at that moment—not with those eyes that tickled Eric’s memory. Those eyes…

…Eric’s own widened with realization—they were the same eyes that stared him down, the same ones that stalked him earlier on the road. He had no proof, but he was almost sure that this man could change into a wolf as well. His heart skipped a beat and he choked back another scream as he felt every last bit of hope drain out of him.

“He’s mine,” Paul growled viciously, possessively as his body tensed and he took a threatening step towards the two of them. “So, back off.”

Jared didn’t move, he didn’t even flinch at the tone of Paul’s voice. In fact, his fingers dug into the side of Eric’s neck in a show of dominance—it wasn’t to the point of restricting his breathing, but it was enough to let him know he wasn’t going anywhere. “I’d like to see you make me,” Jared said, the challenge clear and dangerous in his voice as he moved one of his knees, digging it into Eric’s back as he straightened his back. “I’m the one that caught him, in case you forgot, Paul.”

There was something almost mocking about his tone and Eric could see the rage darken Paul’s face. It was quiet and deadly, and Jared seemed to welcome it.

Fuckyou,” Paul spat out.

Jared chuckled softly, sardonically as his hand left Eric’s neck. “You wish,” he replied and then several things happened in very quick succession—Eric could hardly keep up, nor could he believe his eyes as he watched the rage consume Paul before he burstinto a ball of grey fur.

He growled, and it was a terrifying sound, before he launched himself at Jared, covering the distance between them in one bound. He hit Jared and the two rolled in the sand behind Eric; man and wolf until Jared exploded into a wolf as well. Eric watched the two wolves fight each other, horror rising in his chest as he pushed himself to his feet before running again.

Eric didn’t make it very far. He slipped on a slick outcropping of rock and, before he could get to his feet, the other two men were on him. He struggled, fought valiantly, but it didn’t matter. They were too strong—overwhelming. They got him onto his back and he could feel the dampness of the rock seep through his t-shirt as Jared loomed over him.

His fear made it hard to breathe as he struggled to inhale, his lungs protesting as he panted from exertion. Would it be easier, he wondered, if he just gave in to them? It was, it seemed, inevitable—wasn’t it? His eyes, a look of defeat in them, locked onto Jared’s and the sight of him leering down at Eric made his stomach clench even though Jared’s face, upside down, was hard to distinguish.

“He’s feisty,” Jared murmured, his voice appreciative as his hands wrapped around Eric’s wrists and tugged them above his head. “I like that.”

Paul’s lips curved smoothly, his smirk superior and devious as he nudged Eric’s ankles apart with his hands. “Feisty?” he questioned. “More like scared shitless—he probably thinks he’s going to die.” He paused, shifting his gaze from his partner to Eric. “Don’t you? You think that tonight’s going to be your last night on Earth.”

Eric was too afraid to speak, but Paul continued to stare at him with an expectant look, obviously wanting an answer and Eric didn’t want to find out what would happen to him if he didn’t give it. He nodded quickly, but still couldn’t bring himself to speak. Luckily, Paul didn’t seem too bothered by that fact as his smirk widened.

“We don’t kill your kind,” Paul said, but Eric knew it wasn’t meant to be reassuring. It scared him even more now that he didn’t know what they had planned for him. If they didn’t mean to kill him, what were they planning to do to him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he was beginning to think he already did.

Jared leaned over Eric, catching his terrified gaze as Jared’s lips curled into an evil, little grin. “We like to fuckyour kind,” he remarked, and the cold honesty in Jared’s words left no room to question their intentions. With his suspicions confirmed, Eric began to struggle—his actions prompted Jared to react; the grip on Eric’s hands tightened to the point of pain, but Eric still didn’t stop. He wouldn’t make this easy for them.

“See?” Jared remarked, nodding down at Eric as he arched his back sharply upon realizing that he couldn’t break the bruising grip Jared had on his wrists. Eric continued to struggle, but it was almost as though the fight was leaving him, being drained out of him by the two men who held him. But, in reality, giving up was the last thing on Eric’s mind. He wanted them to think that, to drop their guard just a bit so he could break free. It seemed to work—to a certain extent, but it was the only chance he had—he jerked his legs, hoping to break the hold Paul had on his ankles. It was all in vain and Eric knew it as a slow, amused chuckle left the pair.

“I see what you mean about feisty,” Paul finally conceded, his voice sounding oddly approving as he pulled Eric closer to him. He was neatly nestled between the young man’s legs when he looked up at Jared, a smirk on his face. “Remember that girl from last month?” He asked and Eric’s eyes widened, frantically thinking that these two men had done this before!

Jared snorted softly, nodding in reply. “How could I forget?” His voice bordered on annoyed and partially disgusted as he shifted Eric’s wrists into one hand, but the grip was no more loose than it had been. In fact, it seemed tighter, almost daring Eric to give another go at breaking free. “She just gave in—no fun whatsoever! It’s been awhile since someone gave us a good fight.”

The grin on Paul’s face was something wicked, just seeing it sent a shiver down Eric’s spine as he looked up at him. Eric knew, he wasn’t sure how, that nothing good would come from that grin. “I think you get off on the struggle,” Paul mused softly, surely, his voice a husky mix of lust and arousal as he watched Jared with darkening eyes before he beckoned him closer with a softly spoken, “C’mere.”

Eric’s eyes widened as he felt Jared’s thick arousal press into the back of his neck and, suddenly, he realized this was more than a nightmare—this was real! His throat clenched in shock and he made to scream again, but Jared caught Paul’s lips in a heated kiss before the sound could even leave Eric’s mouth. He meant to look away, but for some reason—one he didn’t want to look into—he just couldn’t.

He watched the two men with a morbid fascination that frightened him. Eric was intrigued, interested, he couldn’t tear his eyes away and it made him sick. He was ashamed and horrified with himself as he helplessly watched them make-out, feeling his own cock twitch in interest as Jared sucked Paul’s lower lip into his mouth.

Eric choked back a groan, forcing himself to close his eyes just as a soft moan left Paul. He found himself fighting against the urge to look again—he shouldn’t look, he didn’t want towatch them—but he could hear them and the sounds Paul and Jared made were just as arousing as watching them had been.

He shouldn’t want to watch them. It shouldn’t arouse him. He shouldn’t want this, want them! He didn’twant this and Eric told himself this. Over and over again. But it didn’t prevent his hips from arching into Paul’s hand as it moved up his thigh, the litany didn’t stop him from bucking into the very same hand when it pressed against his semi-erect length.

A shameful groan left Eric’s throat before he turned his head and buried his face in the crook of his arm to muffle any further sounds. I can’t enjoy this. I won’t. It’s sick, he told himself even as he pressed closer to Paul’s hand. He didn’t want this—he didn’t, even though his body seemed to disagree.

“Tell me to stop,” Paul whispered against his ear. “Tell me you don’t want this—that you don’t want us and we’ll stop, it’ll all stop.”

Eric’s eyes fluttered open at the request and he moved to speak because he didn’twant it despite his body’s reaction to the stimulation. He didn’t want it and he opened his mouth to say so, to tell them to stop before it was too late, but Paul’s hand kept kneading his erection through his jeans. It was distracting. It felt good. Eric groaned—he couldn’t help it—but the sound was muffled and, for that, he was thankful.

Paul didn’t relent, he was determined and he saw his opening when Eric hesitated and didn’t say anything. Still, Eric resisted the draw, the thrill and the pleasurethat was paid to him. “C’mon,” Paul purred into his ear, trying to coax a reaction out of Eric. “We can smell it on you, you know—”

“—your arousal,” Jared clarified as he nudged Eric’s chin with a knuckle, moving his face out of his arm before Jared’s fingers brushed across Eric’s cheek. “You can’t hide your desire from us. It’s impossible.”

Eric wouldn’t admit to it and nothing they could say would change that—not even Jared’s fingers tracing the curve of his jaw before sliding down his neck to his collarbone as Paul sat up and watched them. One of his hands moved from Eric’s thigh to his waist, resting heavily against his stomach as Paul’s dark eyes bored into his own. It made Eric’s gut twist and turn with want. It disgusted him.

“Admit it,” Paul commanded softly, gently as he continued teasing the bulge in Eric’s pants. He was relentless as his hand moved up Eric’s abdomen, dragging his shirt with the upward movement. Inch by inch Eric felt the night air touch his body, but still, he remained silent.

He wouldn’t admit to wanting it—wanting them, especially since he couldn’t say he didn’twant it. He found himself caught in Paul’s smirking gaze—a dangerous place to be he soon realized—and felt a flush rise into his cheeks. Slowly, Paul’s lips curled into a smirk and his other hand left Eric’s groin, tugging the button free from the loop in Eric’s pants.

Panic seeped into Eric and his body tightened in fear. He wanted to kick and scream and break free, but he couldn’t. He was pinned down. “Looks like we’re having Chinese tonight,” Jared teased, his voice light and playful, obviously pleased as he looked at Paul with a broad grin.

Eric found himself frowning deeply at that, his stomach muscles jumping as Paul’s fingers brushed against bare skin, but it didn’t distract him from the prickle of annoyance that bloomed in him as his gaze shifted from Paul to Jared. “Actually…” he said in a small voice, his tone betraying his aggravation as easily as it called both men’s attention to him. “…I’m, uh, Korean.”

There was a long, tense, pregnant pause that followed his proclamation and, suddenly, Eric was in such a state of disbelief—he couldn’t believe he said something so stupid when he was trapped in such a dire situation! Out of everything he could’ve said at that moment—he should’ve said, ‘Stop!’ or, ‘Let me go!’—he just had tocorrect his ethnicity. This was definitely going down as one of the most idiotic things he had ever done or said.

Then the silence was broken—shattered, really—by Paul’s loud, bawdy laughter. He shivered and shook with the force of his laughter as Jared frowned deeply, almost poutingas he looked down at Eric. “So, what? You tellin’ me we ain’t gonna be hungry in thirty minutes?”

But, Jared didn’t wait for an answer. He looked away from Eric and glared at Paul, obviously upset as the other laughed even harder at Jared’s expense. That’s when Eric realized, quite suddenly and startlingly, that their attention, for the moment, wasn’t on him. He could…

…if he really tried…

…he could get away—another chance had been handed to him and Eric wasn’t going to ignore it. He jumped into action; snatching his wrists from Jared’s loosened grasp before twisting his body away from Paul. For a minute, one wonderful moment, he thought it worked. He thought he was free as he rolled off of the edge of the rock and onto the soft beach sand, but one of his captors slammed into him before he could even get up and he was trapped yet again.

A knee dug into the center of Eric’s back—it was painful, pushing the air out of his lungs and making it difficult to breathe underneath the weight of whoever held him. “You naughty little bitch,” the man above him murmured against his ear and, immediately, he recognized Paul’s voice.

“I ought to spank you for trying to get away,” Paul continued in a gently scolding tone before pausing to lean down and nuzzle his nose into the back of Eric’s neck as he stiffened at Paul’s words—telling himself that Paul’s thinly veiled threat didn’texcite him even though his cock was hardening beneath him.

Eric closed his eyes and turned his head, burying his face into the crook of his elbow as Paul shifted above him. He could feel the thick, corded muscle of Paul’s thighs hugging his waist as the man’s hand came to rest heavily on his ass—teasing him, testing him and he tried to resist the urge, but he failed and he failed horribly as he arched into Paul’s hand.

Paul chuckled—it was low and husky—as he rubbed Eric’s ass, teasing him further. “You want tobe spanked, don’t you?” he asked and Eric’s teeth sank into the skin of his inner arm to keep himself from answering Paul’s question because, he realized with a start, he wanted it. He didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted to be spanked.

He felt the same disgust and shame well in him, and he couldn’t believe these two men could arouse him. He couldn’t believe he, himself, could be worked into such a state by force. It was sick. They were sick. And Eric felt sick for wanting it all.

His arousal was a burning ball in the pit of his stomach as his cock throbbed between his legs, and Eric just wanted to move. He needed some sort of friction and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He shifted his hips, letting out a soft groan into the bend of his arm as he rutted against the sand. It was a slight relief, but it was somethingeven though it filled him with shame.

“You little slut!”

Eric’s eyes flickered to Jared and his eyes were intense, dark, watching him as he moved against the ground and then he felt Paul slide down his body. He bit back a groan as Paul pressed his erection into the curve of his ass. “I’m going to make you beg for it,” Paul promised and Eric believed every word as the other man rode his ass. “You’re going to beg for my cock like a bitch in heat, you’ll beg for both of ours.”

His body trembled violently as he whimpered, the sound muffled as he arched his ass into Paul’s grinding and—Oh, God!—he wanted it; he wanted to be violated, to be fucked and filled by these two men who stalked him through the woods and herded him onto First Beach. He wanted them and he felt dirty because of it.

“Jared,” Paul spoke softly, commanding as he eased off of Eric, his tone was breathless and tight as he lifted Eric onto his knees. “Hold him—hold him still and tight,” he said, looking across the way at Jared as he tugged Eric’s pants down until they were over his hips, until his ass was bare and just waitingfor him.

Paul grasped both ass cheeks in his hands, unable to help himself as he squeezed and kneaded the soft mounds of flesh. Eric moaned softly, shamefully, as he pressed back into him, begging for it without words. It made Paul smirk, his lips lined with the smugness of victory. “Maybe if you’re a good little whore,” he started as he caressed Eric’s ass with one hand, glancing at Jared as he spoke. “Jared’ll let you suck’im ’til he cums all over your face—you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Jared?”

“Fuck yes,” Jared practically growled in reply as his hand wrapped around his own erection, stroking it slowly and surely to take the edge off as he held Eric with his other arm. He looked down at the young, trembling man and grinned crookedly. “He’d look awfully pretty with his lips stretched around my cock too,” he added wistfully.

Paul hummed softly—thoughtfully, Eric thought—as his fingers trailed closer and closer to the crack of Eric’s ass before finally stilling just shy of dipping in between the cheeks and Eric whined, unable to help himself as he pressed back into Paul.

“Not yet,” Paul stated softly, yet sternly and Eric didn’t know who that was directed at, but he quickly found that he didn’t care as Paul leaned forward and playfully nipped at the cleft just above his ass cheeks. His fingers sank in deeper and Eric’s hole quivered in anticipation, in need, but Paul didn’t relent nor move to give in—his fingers resting just a fraction of an inch from where Eric most wanted them. “I want to hear him beg,” Paul said plainly as he glanced at Jared.

Their eyes met and the look that passed between them was intense. “I want to see him be the little slut I know he is,” Paul explained further as he kneaded Eric’s ass again, but still not touching his needy entrance. “I want to hear him begfor my cock to fill him.”

Eric realized with a start that he was alarmingly close to doing that very thing; even as he resisted he could feel the words—the pleas bubbling up in his throat, but he always managed to bit them back at the last moment because he wouldn’t give in. But, God, did he want it. He wanted to be filled to the brim and fucked until he couldn’t even remember his own name, and that was exactly what Paul and Jared were offering him.

He could scarcely believe it; he was astounded, disgusted with himself and strangely aroused by the prospect of these two men taking him, using him, abusing him. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, they had manipulated him into wanting it. It was wrong—So, so wronghe told himself, over and over again—but, suddenly, that didn’t matter anymore.

“P-please!” Eric’s will finally broke, his voice shaking and more needy than he wanted to admit to as he lifted his head to look over his shoulder. He trembled at the smirk on Paul’s face, his eyebrow arched in question and Eric knew he would have to do better than that to get anything out of Paul.

“Please,” he tried again. “I want—n-no, I need…” Eric’s voice died at that and he struggled for words, but none would come to him. His body wanted it, that he couldn’t deny, but the rational side of his brain was telling him to ‘Stop!’ before he ventured past the point of no return—he couldn’t tell them to stop either; his body was outweighing his rationality.

“Say it.”

Paul’s voice was soft, but stern enough to snap Eric from his inner turmoil and bring him crashing back into the present—Paul’s hands were grasping Eric’s hips, fingers digging into Eric’s skin. He opened his mouth to speak, to say what he wanted, but nothing came out and Paul’s reaction was instantaneous and harsh. His hand fell onto Eric’s ass with a sharp, resounding crackthat echoed in the surrounding night air—it made Eric jerk in surprise, making him cry out in pain.

That fucking hurt!

But before he had time enough to process the sudden pain, another brutal smack fell upon his bottom, only it was much harder this time. It shocked his entire body, his entire being. He was shaken to the core by Paul’s hard blows.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Teaching you a lesson,” Paul replied coldly. It was said simply, as though it were the most obvious reason in the world. It escaped Eric, he wanted it to stop, but Paul’s hand came down again. The hard calloused hand sent shockwaves of pain down his spine. It didn’t feel good and it was humiliating to say the least, and Eric squirmed futilely once more in an effort to get away from the blows raining down on his backside.

It wasn’t over. Another came. He was a little more prepared for it this time and bit his bottom lip to stop the resulting cry, determined not to give Paul the satisfaction of hearing him scream. CRACK! Again, it came, over and over without rhyme or reason. His skin was hot and flushed as Paul’s hand came down with a burned agitation—a different spot each time was struck so that his entire ass felt swollen and red, the nerve endings pulsing from having been assaulted so mercilessly.

The next strike was particularly hard, causing Eric’s body to convulse and tremble as Paul’s hand laid heavily against his throbbing skin. Tears burned in Eric eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn’t allow those who tormented him to see such a moment of weakness. He inhaled deeply, his breath shaking as he exhaled and looked forward—determinedly looking ahead as Eric did the only thing he could; he took it, biting his bottom lip to keep from crying out again.

Eric felt the man in front of him shift and he glanced up at Jared, cringing from the blows raining down on his ass as he watched Jared’s eyes darken and glaze over. It was easy to tell that Jared was excited, his eyes watched Paul’s actions hungrily as they silently encouraged him onward. Eric’s body tensed all over again as Jared’s hands began to move; running down his clothed back, brushing against his sides until, finally, Jared had leaned forward and palmed Eric’s semi-flaccid member.

“Hm, Paul…” Jared murmured as his fingers wrapped around Eric’s softening cock. “I don’t think our little friend is enjoying this very much.” He caressed Eric; stroked him and fingered the slit, spreading a lingering bead of cum around the head of Eric’s cock as Jared looked up at Paul, smirking at the other man.

“What?” Paul questioned, not even sparing Jared a glance as he landed one final smack to Eric’s bruised ass before Paul reached between Eric’s legs, touching his diminishing erection as well. “Aw! Poor baby,” he cooed mockingly with a soft chuckle. “Was I too rough on you?” He asked, an obvious sneer in his voice as he leaned to Eric’s ear again, biting the fleshy lobe.

“Fuck you!” Eric growled defiantly.

Paul laughed against Eric’s ear, making him shiver. “Oh, don’t worry about that, you’ll get fucked,” he promised before his eyes flickered to Jared again. “Here, Jared, let’s take care of that—let’s make the little pussy feel better, hm?” He said, his tone still mocking and degrading, as he wrapped an arm around Eric’s chest and pulled the smaller man back against his chest. Paul easily lifted Eric to his feet, as though he weighed nothing at all, forcing the slighter man to lean heavily against Paul as he beckoned Jared forward with a crooked finger.

Jared moved quickly; complying without a second thought as he moved forward and swallowed Eric’s soft cock without a sound of protest, his nose nestling in a soft nest of dark pubic hair. And, in a deliciously slow manner, he used the base of his tongue as he pulled back, caressing every hot velvety inch before he plunged back down and took Eric again and again.

Resistance, Eric soon realized, was futile—he couldn’t ignore what Jared was doing to him and his body made that blatantly obvious as Eric hunched over. His hands rested on Jared’s bare back as his hips followed the bobbing motion of Jared’s head, Eric’s chest heaved as he fought back his moans of pleasure. Jared flicked the tip of his tongue across the slick slit of his dick before pausing to suck at Eric’s head, tasting him before taking him completely again.

Meanwhile, while Eric was distracted by the attention being paid to his renewing erection, Paul sank to his knees behind Eric. His body clenched in fear and anticipation as he felt Paul’s hands come to rest on his hips, holding him still as Eric prepared himself for whatever it was the man had planned. Then, suddenly, he felt Paul’s warm tongue trailing along the curve of one ass cheek. It was a painful burn, but Paul had done such a harsh number on his ass that the most delicate of touches—even a tongue caressing his bruised and battered skin—were too much to bear.

Eric sucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting down to hold back his cries as Paul’s tongue seemingly touched every reddened inch of skin he had abused. It hurt; the burn was unbearable, and his legs trembled with the force of holding himself up as his knees weakened. Pain and pleasure twisted within him from both the expert ministrations of Jared at his front and the sadistic laps of Paul’s tongue at his back. Eric was overwrought with conflicting emotions.

His breathing was deep and ragged as Paul coated his backend with warm, sticky saliva and Eric didn’t know what Paul was doing, but his skin was still on fire. Then, as suddenly as he had started, Paul stopped and pulled away. Eric had a moment, a short moment of heavy panting to catch his breath, before he felt a smooth stream of air slide across his ass. He cried out in his surprise, unable to catch himself as his legs nearly gave out underneath him, but Paul’s strong arms kept him upright as Jared’s head continued to bob.

Coupled with the cold breeze on the beach, the airy caresses sent shivers down Eric’s whole being. His body tingled and tightened in pleasure before he was suddenly overwhelmed with sensation. Eric’s vision danced with stars as his orgasm overtook him and Jared greedily sucked down all that was given to him before pulling away. He looked up at Eric, smirking at his dazed expression before Jared ran his tongue along his bottom lip obscenely, catching any cum he might’ve missed.

Eric said nothing; his voice was lost to him as Jared’s hands left Eric’s hips, wrapping around his wrists before tugging him forward. Soft and pliant, Eric took a step before he fell to his knees. He made to move—to work himself out of Jared’s grasp, but the man pulled him forward again and Eric fell into Jared’s lap, his arms holding Eric. He struggled, grunting his his effort, but then Eric felt hands on him; caressing him, oddly soothing him and he found himself relaxing.

Paul shifted behind him, moving closer to grasp the waist of Eric’s jeans—the slight tug snapped him from his post-orgasmic high and Eric struggled to get to his pants, but Jared held Eric tight and fast as his pants slid past his hips and then down his legs. Paul only paused to tug his sneakers and socks off before throwing the clothes to the side.

“His shirt too,” Paul murmured next, his hands already taking advantage of the newly exposed skin. He was greedy too—touching, teasing and caressing every inch he could reach, his eyes drinking in the rest that he couldn’t as Jared freed Eric of his jacket and shirt. Now completely bared to the world, Eric’s skin seemed to glow beneath the light of the moon. His skin was perfection, his complexion flawless; the only thing that marred it was the angry red flush left from his spanking.

That, within itself, was enough to make Paul’s lips quirk into a smug smirk.

“Play time is over,” Paul said in a stronger, sterner voice as his hands grasped Eric’s hips. “You’ll be a good whore and do what you’re told, won’t you?”

He didn’t answer, but this time Paul wasn’t expecting one as he tugged Eric’s ass into the air. “Hold him still,” Paul warned as he looked at Jared, catching his gaze for a long moment before Paul’s attention returned to the ass in front of him.

Eric’s body trembled in Jared’s grasp and, this time, it was in fear as Paul shifted about behind him. He wasn’t sure what Paul had planned, but he hoped—no, Eric prayedthat Paul had grown bored with spanking him. He didn’t think his ass could handle anymore abuse. He tensed, his body readying itself for a blow that never came.

The touch was surprisingly soft and fleeting; so different from before as Paul traced the smooth curves of Eric’s backside. Slowly, but surely the tension was eased out of Eric until his body was limp with relaxation. “That’s it,” Paul cooed softly, his fingers caressing the cleft of Eric’s ass before slipping in between the cheeks. “Relax—just relax.”

Paul’s whispered words meant nothing to Eric; he wanted to fight, he wanted to make this as difficult as possible for the two men, but there was no fightleft in his body. The orgasm had taken the fire right out of him and his body was soft and pliant in Paul’s hands.

Eric wanted to tell Paul to stop—it was his last line of defense—and he opened his mouth to do so, “S-s—” But the word was caught in his throat, trapped by a surprised gasp that escaped as Paul parted his ass cheeks and flicked his tongue across Eric’s opening.

His body jumped in shock, his hips bucked of their own accord and Paul chuckled softly—his warm breath rushing over Eric’s hold, making him shiver and shake before he shifted his body in an attempt to look over his shoulder. Jared’s hold tightened as Eric tried to push himself up, in the end he could only turn his head and he caught Paul’s smirking face before he leaned back down.

“Sh—” Eric gasped before he pushed his face into Jared’s side to muffle a moan as Paul lapped at his hole, slicking the ring of muscle with spit before he pressed the tip of his tongue against it; testing before he returned to licking.

Eric’s hands scrambled and grasped for purchase until his fingers dug into Jared’s thighs, the man groaned softly as he shifted beneath Eric, drawing his attention to Jared’s thick erection and if it had been anyone else Eric would’ve done something about the leaking thickness. He gulped instead, pressing his face deeper into Jared’s skin, refusing to acknowledge the other’s obvious need lest Eric be forced into doing something about it.

“Slick your fingers,” Paul commanded, his voice soft and husky as he pulled away from Eric’s ass and glanced up at his partner as Paul’s fingers dipped between cheeks, separating them. “Get them good and wet for me, would you—we don’t want to hurt him too badly, you know how Sam gets,” he added offhandedly as Jared sucked three of his own fingers into his mouth, coating them well with saliva before they slid between Eric’s ass as well.

The first of the fingers pressed against Eric’s entrance, not yet breeching the ring of muscle, but testing it as his body clenched and tensed in anticipation of the intrusion. Eric was no fool, nor was he a virgin. He knew it’d hurt, he knew what to expect. Jared was attentive, caring and did not try to force himself inside. He rubbed Eric’s hole, working it and relaxing it until his finger slid inside with little resistance.

It hurt—burned like hell—as the finger slid further inside of him and Eric must’ve whimpered or made somesort of noise that indicated his discomfort because, moments later, he felt Paul’s tongue working him; licking, flicking and sucking the pucker of skin to sooth the ache and slicken the finger further. He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to buck his hips, but in the end it was too hard and he moved against the finger and Paul’s face.

A soft curse, barely audible to even Eric, fell from his lips as he felt Jared’s fingers lace through his hair before curling into a fist. He tugged, but not hard enough to hurt. It was enough to get Eric’s attention and he glanced up at the dark haired man. “So fuckingtight.” Jared stumbled over his words, his eyes half lidded and his nostrils flared, as he looked down at Eric. “You’ll hug a cock like a good whore, won’t you? Your ass will swallow it up and milk it dry…”

His voice died down and his body shuddered as he continued thrusting his finger into Eric’s body, waiting until Paul told him to add another. All the while he watched Eric, watched him with a heated gaze that made Eric uncomfortable. He wanted to turn away. He wanted Jared to stop looking at him. Eric closed his eyes, but he could still feel Jared’s gaze on him as the man crooked his finger and Eric’s entire body jumped.

Fuck!” Eric cursed in surprise as Jared’s lips curled into a devious grin. He continued to push and pull his finger in and out of Eric’s body, taking care to hit that spot—that bundle of nerves every single time. Eric’s body started to tremble again and his cock swelled with reawakened arousal, and then Paul pulled away from his ass and looked up at Jared.

“We’re not trying to make him cum again,” Paul pointed out wryly, his fingers wrapped around Jared’s wrist. “Just loosen him up,” he reiterated before he let go of Jared’s hand and leaned back down to Eric’s ass. “If you need something to do, get him to suck your cock,” he said before his tongue was pressed between Eric’s cheeks again.

Jared’s lips quirked into a smile. “Good idea!” He tugged on Eric’s hair, arching his hips as he looked down at the man. “I still think your lips would look pretty around my cock—let’s see if I’m right, what do you say?”

No. Hell fucking no.

That’s what Eric wantedto say, but it wasn’t as though he had a choice as Jared pushed his head towards his cock—the hardness bumping against his cheek and chin until, finally, Eric just opened his mouth and took it.

Jared shuddered as Eric’s mouth sank over him—warm and wet. He used his hand to guide Eric, his fingers still tightly grasping Eric’s black hair as his head bobbed up and down. “If you bite me…” Jared started breathlessly, his fingers curling into a painful fist in Eric’s hair as teeth scraped along the length of his erection. “…you’ll regret it—I’ll fucking end youbefore you can even try…”

The threat hung heavily over Eric, and the thought to bite Jared’s dick left as quickly as it had entered his mind. Eric wouldn’t test Jared’s mercy, not after he had seen that Paul was incapable of it. He could only assume that the same would hold true for Jared and Eric did not want to see what Jared would do to him should he follow through with the errant idea.

“He’s ready for another,” Paul remarked in a strong voice, making sure that Jared wasn’t too lost to the pleasure Eric was inflicting on his body. He waited and watched as Jared thrust his finger into Eric’s body, just a few more times as though he was putting on a show for Paul, before pulling it free from the hold Eric had on him.

Paul leaned forward again to swipe his tongue across Eric’s entrance, getting it wet again as he pressed his tongue against the pucker—finally it gave and Eric moaned softly around Jared’s cock. Grinning, Paul pulled away and reached for Jared’s hand. “Won’t be long,” he commented to the other man before sucking Jared’s fingers into his mouth, making sure they were well coated before Jared pushed them into Eric’s body.

He moved his fingers—scissoring them and separating them—inside of Eric and he could feel himself stretching and loosening. It was uncomfortable still, but Paul’s tongue was back to soothe the ache and make Eric writhe as he sucked down Jared’s cock. His fingers hooked as they pushed deeper inside of him, and Eric pushed back against the fingers; sighing in pleasure every time his prostate was accidently brushed against.

It wasn’t long before Eric felt the burn of another finger pushing in alongside the others—it was too soon, he thought in a panic, much too soon as the burning intensified with the pucker of muscle stretching to accommodate the intrusion of the new finger. It moved inside of him, it was different from the others, seeming to have its own agenda and that’s when Eric suddenly realized that it was Paul’s finger inside of him.

Eric closed his eyes and stilled himself against the pain, knowing he would get no respite from it as he was worked—stretched and loosened for something much bigger, much fuller than the three fingers pressed into his ass. “I can’t wait anymore…” Paul said, his voice sudden and startling as his finger left Eric’s body before Jared’s were snatched out as well.

His entire body tensed in anticipation. Eric knew it would hurt—he knew it could possibly hurt worse than anything he had ever experienced before and that thought scared him. His body reacted to that fear and his muscles tightened, even the one that had been worked and relaxed into opening.

Eric felt Paul’s thick erection nudge against his asshole and the leaking, bulbous tip pressed into the ring of muscle as Paul pushed himself inside. The pain was intense and quickly overwhelmed Eric as he released Jared’s cock, groaning in pain as his eyes burned with unshed tears. It felt like he was being ripped in two as Paul pushed deeper inside of Eric.


Paul’s fingers dug into his hips—sharp points of pain that, oddly, grounded him—and Eric could feel Paul trembling behind him.

“Shit!” Paul panted, his eyes half lidded. “He’s so fucking tight, it almost hurts…”

He shifted then and Eric could feel Paul move inside of him; not pulling out, but just moving—testing him to see if the pain had numbed. It hadn’t. Eric wasn’t sure if it ever would. Patience, however, did not seem to be Paul’s strong point because a few moments later he was pulling out of Eric’s tight heat.


Eric struggled to speak, to get Paul’s attention and stop him, needing to tell him that it hurt so Paul would stop. He wasn’t ready, but Paul slammed into Eric anyway and he cried out loudly, unable to stop the scream of pain as it was ripped from his throat, the brutal thrust making his insides coil with pain and fire. It was hard to imagine that pleasure could be found from this, but then Eric remembered that this wasn’t about his pleasure.

His pain was theirpleasure.

Eric’s only saving grace was Jared reaching out, stopping Paul with a soft reminder—”We’re supposed to make him want this, remember?”—and he stopped, still buried to the hilt in Eric’s ass, but he stopped and that was all that mattered to Eric at the moment.

Hands were all over him—caressing him, soothing him, relaxing him as fingertips touched every inch of him and slowly, slowlythe pain was eased. It lingered heavily in his hips, but it was manageable as he felt the slow pull of Paul’s cock leaving his body before pushing back into him. This time Paul was slow, considerate of Eric as he thrust into Eric’s body—using it, but making sure that Eric, at the very least, enjoyed being used.

It was a sick thought; twisted and completely wrong…

…but it wasn’t so bad anymore.

The pain had lessened and every thrust was easier to handle than the last—the push and pull of Paul’s cock was comfortable and easy, and Eric found himself moving with the motions.

“That’s right, take it,” Paul smugly purred as he ground into Eric’s ass. “Take it like a good bitch, take it all and beg for more—you want more, don’t you, whore? Tell me. Tell me not to stop. Tell me how much you need my cock inside of you.”

Paul’s thrusts slowed to a maddening pace as he continued goading Eric to speak—to beg and Eric didn’t want to give in. He had to remind himself that he didn’t want it, that he wanted it to stop even as the wrong words flew out of his mouth. “Please don’t stop, please.”

It was sick, twisted and completely wrong, but it was happening to him and he begged for it.

The thought, the realization, weighed heavily on Eric and he closed his eyes and hid his face as Paul’s thrusts picked up. Harder, harder and harder until Jared was holding Eric so he wouldn’t fall forward with the force of Paul’s thrusts and, all the while, Eric cried for more, more, more!

And Paul gave it to him—gave it to Eric harder, faster and didn’t stop as his thrusts became erratic. His nails dug into Eric’s hips, Paul could smell the tangy, copper scent of blood hitting the air as his orgasm crashed into him. He came with a great, thunderous roar as he coated Eric’s insides with his semen before pulling out of Eric’s body and falling back into the sand. He watched, eyes hazy, as his cum oozed out of the swollen ring of muscle.

Paul chuckled huskily as he held his arms out. “Stand him up and bring him here,” he told Jared, and the other man was quick to comply. Eric was swaying slightly, his cock hard and jutting between his thighs as Paul’s hands grasped his hips again. He smirked, looking up at Eric. “Bend over like a good slut,” he commanded and, despite the defiance he saw in Eric’s eyes, the young man bent over and rested his hands against Paul’s shoulders.

“My turn.”

There was an edge to Jared’s voice, one Eric couldn’t identify as Jared’s finger slipped between his ass cheeks. “How does it feel?” Jared asked as two of his fingers pushed into Eric; his entrance slick with Paul’s seed as Jared pumped his fingers in and out of Eric. “Being filled with Paul’s cum—I bet you’re hungry for more, aren’t you, slut.”

“I’m not a slut,” Eric said through gritted teeth as he glared over his shoulder, pointedly ignoring Paul’s chuckle and Jared’s smirk. “I’m not!”

“No?” Jared questioned airily with a wide grin, curling his fingers inside of Eric before pressing them against his sweet spot before laughing at the man’s strangled cry. “I think you’re just in denial,” he remarked in a matter-of-factly tone of voice before he sank to his knees behind Eric, pulling his fingers free from his body before tugging Eric’s hips closer to him. “But, don’t worry, I’ll set you straight and show you how much of a cum dumpster you are.”

Eric opened his mouth to counter, to argue, to refuse

…but, the words died in his throat as a groan rose within him—Jared’s mouth was on him, hot and heavy, with his tongue pressed between his cheeks as his fingers pulled them apart—as Eric tossed his head back because, even though it was dirty, he wanted more of it. Curses, simple filth, fell from his lips in between whispered pleas as Eric’s nails dug into Paul’s shoulders.

“…fuck…fuck, please!”

Eric’s voice shook and had a breathless tone to it as he begged, and then Jared started sucking at his trembling hole—drawing the cum out of Eric as Paul leaned forward and mouthed at the leaking head of Eric’s erection. He cried out, the sound echoing in the night air as Jared finally leaned away. “Such a filthy slut,” he murmured as he rose to his feet and grabbed Eric’s chin.

This kiss was harsh, bruising, but Eric had no choice—he complied, letting Jared force his way into his mouth and Eric could taste the bitterness of Paul’s cum on Jared’s tongue. Eric would’ve liked to think he shuddered in disgust, that tasting the cum had turned his stomach, but he couldn’t say that was true as Jared’s cock pressed into his body and he sucked Jared’s tongue into his mouth.

Jared’s grip was brutal on Eric’s hips, his pace relentless as he pounded into Eric’s body without pause nor rest. It was painful, but it was a hurt that Eric found himself relishing. He wanted more, he neededmore, so he begged for it. He pleaded for relief and Paul leaned forward, giving it to him. He mouthed at Eric’s cock—licking the leaking head, sucking at it before taking more of Eric’s length.

It happened quick; suddenly overwhelming him with a mind-numbing pleasure, crying out loudly as his orgasm ripped through him. It was violent and harsh and it took everything from Eric. He was dazed, hazy, confused as he felt Jared fill him for a second time.

And then…

…he remembered nothing except for soft whispered voices and the bright, full moon hanging overhead.

A week later…

He couldn’t bring himself to tell anyone about what happened on the beach. He had tried, but always closed in on himself at the last minute. He was afraid, filled with a sense of dread at the thought of telling someone because he couldn’t see anyone believing him. He wasn’t even sure he believed it himself, but he couldn’t deny it.

He had woken up the next morning with the proof scattered over his body—bruises and stuff muscles, a deep resounding ache that he stillfelt after so much time had passed. They were a tell-tale sign and his only evidence, the evidence that he couldn’t even share because who would believe a story about wolves changing into men and then those very same men taking advantage of a stranded motorist.

Even to him it sounded like a bad fairytale; a twisted version of Little Red Riding Hoodthat would forever haunt him. He had tried, and failed mercilessly, to distance himself from that night. The fight had left him tired, withdrawn, completely desolate and, try as he might, he couldn’t shake his friends’ concern or reassure them enough to get them to leave him alone.

This—tonight—was his last ditch effort to prove to them (and maybe himself) that he was fine.

“Hey, Eric…”

He looked up at the sound of his name before glancing over at his friend, Mike, who had called him in the first place. He only looked at him, silently acknowledging him before Mike continued speaking, “…those guys from the rez keep looking at you like they know you.”

Frowning in confusion, Eric looked in the direction that Mike had indicated and his eyes widened as a stab of recognition shot through him. Smiling—smirkingjust feet away from him were the two men, the two that had stalked him, chased him and then violated him.

“Man, they’re practically undressing you with their eyes,” Mike said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You should go over there and introduce yourself, dude. They’re hot and it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Eric didn’t answer, he couldn’t because words failed him at this point. His body tightened in fear as their smirks widened, their names drifted into his mind—the names he’d never forget: Jared and Paul.


Posted by on October 31, 2011 in Halloween Fest


Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Halloween Fest: If You Go Down to the Woods Today

Author: missrebecca
Pairing/MC: Bella/Rose/Alice
Genre(s): femmeslash, horror,
Wordcount: 6200
Prompt/recipient: N/A
Rating: M
Warnings: Says horror guys, I mean it.
Summary: A weekend away with the boys, what could possibly go wrong? A beautiful woman will always be a man’s undoing, but for Edward, Jasper and Emmett the consequences of their lust are deadly.
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are the property of their creator, Stephanie Meyer, who is in no way affiliated with this piece of literary fan fiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

If You Go Down to the Woods Today

There were demons chasing him. Crashing and cackling in the bushes behind him, as he stumbled in the dark. His shoes had fallen somewhere in the blackness, and to where he was running he didn’t know. The only sounds were his harsh breaths and the blood thrumming so strongly in his ears. His heart raced so fast now that it’s beats were numbered.

The ground was uneven and he stumbled, tumbling endlessly head over feet until he crashed into something hard beneath him. Tarmac. The road. Could this be it? His freedom. He wiped quickly at the blood, sweat and tears that stained his face. He wasted no time taking back off into the night, and for the first time since the moon had risen he felt hope. Maybe he could finally out run the banshees at his back.

Of course he should have known better. He had seen his comrades cut down by those beautiful sirens, had watched them consume one another. And as the darkness had settled he had watched them change, becoming things unnatural; of nightmares.

He should have known he could not out run them. Yet he went down with a blood curdling scream in his throat as the first latched its claws into his neck. The second tangled herself within his legs, stopping him dead, and the third, that nymph that had called to him cradled his face so gently in her talons. She smiled wickedly, her once brown eyes so red now in the moons glow, before opening her mouth wide, exposing rows of pointed fangs and sinking them quick into his neck.

Darkness followed soon after.


The sun shone bright upon them, it was a beautiful day so late in the year. October in the north east of England wasn’t known for its sunny days, but the three boys, squashed into the camper van were determined to make the most of it. They were travelling to the coast, crossing over the moors heading towards Saltburn, for a weekend of surfing and drinking.

“Do you think there’ll be girls there?” One of them asked, a blond haired boy, called Jasper, sat in the back, elbows where the headrests should be.

“There are always girls there,” the second replied. A big lad he was, all broad shoulders and strong muscles. He’d spent his life on his father’s farm, hauling hay bails and herding cattle. But his face was sweet, with his tight dark curls, deep blue eyes, and dimples in his cheeks. His name was Emmet.

“Let’s just hope the sun keeps up,” the third added. He was the driver, it was his van. He was tall, but slim compared to his companions. His bright red hair was windswept from the open window, his cheeks slightly pink from the slight chill of the rushing air. He was the heartbreaker back in their hometown, called Edward; he could make girls swoon just by looking at them.

The moors were desolate as ever, only the occasional car passing them by. The heather had all been burnt off, the lambs of spring and summer were gone to the chopping block, and the wind was billowing around them. Music was belting out of the cassette player in the camper van, and Jasper was singing along, but aside from that, there was no other noise about them.

As they came to a junction, the way forward, the way they wished to go, was blocked. A sign proclaimed that the road had subsidence and was unfit to be driven on. The path to their left was practically a dirt road; the tarmac was so broken up, and it was an incredibly steep decline. But it was the only way to go.

“This road isn’t on the map,” Emmet said, frowning down into the valley below.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Edward replied, ignoring the frown from his dark haired friend, as he spun the wheel to head down into the dip.

For three miles they drove, passing no other vehicles or walkers on their way. There were no sheep, or birds in this valley, and they wondered how they’d never been there before.

“I don’t think this was the right way,” Jasper mumbled, frowning as they began driving on a flat expanse of road. The trees lined the road so close, as though it was only the inhospitable tarmac keeping them back, their branches reached like arms in the air above, trying to bridge the gap between them.

“Stop acting like girls,” Edward scoffed. “I’m sure there’ll be a house around here somewhere, and if not there’s got to be a sign.”

But for another thirty minutes they drove, and still there was no sign of anyone about them. It looked like no one had been down there for many years. The trees were so dense around them now, the side of this little valley so steep that the sun was nearly completely cut off from view. They rolled their windows up, to keep out the chill that had suddenly descended upon them.

Edward’s confidence was beginning to wane, and he knew his companions were seriously questioning his judgement. But what was the worst that could happen to them here? They got lost, so what. They could always turn around and go back the way they came, there were no branching roads to become lost upon.

Just as all their hearts were resigned to the fact that they were terribly lost, they saw a glimpse of something up a head, and turning the bend they saw another car, parked at the side of the road. It was a bright blue mini, and it had a flat tire. But it was not the sight of the car that had their interest peaked. It was the girl who stood beside it. Edward was sure he’d never seen someone so beautiful in all his life. Her hair was thick, and tumbled in soft brown waves to the middle of her back. She wore shorts and a halter neck top, exposing delicious inches of her creamy white skin. Of course he gave no thought to how odd it was for a girl to wear so little when it was so cold outside.

Edward pulled the van to a stop behind her car, watching as she jumped slightly and just barely hiding his smile. He stepped out casually, as though they weren’t lost in some strange wood. He ran his eyes up and down her body, watching as she blushed slightly when he caught her doing the same to him.

“Hey, you need a hand?” He asked, smiling that crooked smile he knew made all the girls back home wet.

“It’s so far passed that, what I need is a ride. My friends’ll be wondering where I am,” she replied, her voice like the soft ringing of bells. He was entranced by her.

“Well we can give you a lift, where is it you’re going?”

When the girl smiled, Edward found himself smiling too. She had a glow about her, an aura of mystery. He found he simply couldn’t look away from her.

“My parent’s house just down the way,” she pointed further into the gloomy woods.

“They’re away so my friends and I are having a little bit of a party,” she continued as she slid into the front passenger seat, relegating Emmet to the back with Jasper, though he didn’t complain. “I went into town to get provisions, and came back with a flat.”

“Bad times,” Jasper said.

Edward’s eyes stayed focused on the road ahead, but his mind was on the girl sitting to his left. He could feel her watching him, those dark eyes so focused in on his face. He didn’t look, though his body wanted nothing more than to meet her stare. Instead he watched the dirt road before them, as it twisted and turned in the dappled sunlight. Everything was silent in the van, a faint air of tension settling over those who rode in it; it seemed only the girl who was content.

“So what’s your name?” Emmett finally asked.

“Oh, Isabella,” she replied, “though you can call me Bella.” Her voice dropped, becoming a sultry whisper, and Edward felt himself respond to her heat as she leaned closer to him.

“What might I call you?” She asked.

“E-Edward,” he stammered, kicking himself inside for allowing this girl to get to him.

The rest of the road was driven in silence, there was a thick tension in the car and Edward couldn’t wait to get outside, to breathe some fresh air and regroup. This wasn’t his style. He was aloof, hard to get. He didn’t get all…odd, over a girl. Eventually he pulled up to a log cabin, the end of the road. It was surrounded on all sides by trees that towered above them. There were no birds; no rustle of the wind, nothing; all was silent about them.

“Come on in,” Bella called, her smile wicked before she bounced her way through the front door.

The boys shared a glance; they all wanted to follow her, to meet these friends she spoke of; but what of their plans for the weekend? It was meant to be a lad’s holiday, a break before they had to return to school.

“Couple of hours couldn’t hurt, right?” Edward finally said, smiling as Emmett and Jasper shrugged. Had they known what was awaiting them, they would have thought twice about walking with such nonchalance into the cabin.

The interior was huge, all dark wood and cosy furnishings, yet it did not feel lived in. There was an unwelcome air to the place, and so much of the room was covered in dust. The boys did not notice that however, as standing before them were three of the most beautiful women they had ever seen in their short lives.

All looked different; Bella with her deep brown eyes and hair was completely different to her almost white-blonde friend who stood almost as tall as Edward, who was also completely different to the miniscule creature beside her, the top of her black spiked hair hitting just to the blondes shoulder. Yet they had an air of familiar about them. They were all pale, incredibly so, and their eyes seemed to hold such a hunger to them, even through the dull colours of them.

“Hey,” the blonde stepped forward, zeroing in on Emmett and not removing her eyes from him. “I’m Rosalie.”

“Emmett,” he replied, transfixed in her stare.

“Help me put the drinks in the kitchen,” she said, holding his gaze. Emmett followed behind, a bag in each hand, without a word.

Edward smirked; his boy was gone over that girl, though that was no surprise. Emmett had a habit of falling fast and hard over any beautiful girl he set his eyes on. Turning his head to his right he saw Jasper following the tiny girl across the large living room to the leather sofa, where she sat before tugging gently on his hand until he lay with his head in her lap. She then proceeded to run her fingers through his hair. Now that was a shock. Jasper didn’t get stupid over girls; he rarely showed much of an interest in them at all.

“Don’t worry.” Edward jumped slightly, he hadn’t realised Bella had moved so close. “Alice will take care of him, now, why don’t we go join them?”

It was spoken as a question, but Edward found himself unable to deny her, though why would he want to? A beautiful girl wanting to spend time with him, what could be better? And so, as his comrades had, he followed behind her like the lost sheep he didn’t know he was.


Hours passed in the living room, hours the boys had little to no recollection of as they were being led to the room they were to share for the night.

“Seriously,” Jasper slurred, “we have a hotel booked for the night.”

“Oh but look at the state of you,” Alice purred as she led him by the hand to the end of the dark corridor. “We should have kept an eye on how much you were drinking.”

Rosalie giggled as Emmett attempted to speak. “I don’t-did we? How much?”

“Yeah,” Edward agreed to Emmett’s unspoken thoughts, “I don’t think we drank that much, did we?”

Bella spun to walk backwards, facing Edward. There was a look, something fleeting that passed across her features, but as Edward blinked it was gone. “You silly things, you drained us dry.”

Emmett once again tried to formulate his thoughts, frowning and opening and closing his mouth. On his third attempt Rosalie placed three fingers across his mouth, staring him deep in the eyes before speaking. Edward watched fascinated.

“You drank an awful lot, now you should sleep. Poor baby.”

Emmett nodded, silent. Something was pulling at the back of Edward’s mind, but for the life of him he couldn’t catch it, and before he even knew, it was gone into the ether.

“Come on boys,” Bella said, sending sharp looks to her friends, “let’s get you in to bed.”

The corridor was dark and silent as the group of six continued to make their way to the door at the end. Bella pushed through the heavy oak, smiling as she led Edward inside. None of the men remembered getting in to each of the three beds spread about the large room; neither did they see the girls share hungry smiles over their prostrate forms.

Edward fell into sleep quicker than ever before in his life. The room smelled of cinnamon, and he curled deeper into his pillow to breathe it in. His dreams were of Bella, or her almond eyes and deep brown hair; it had felt so soft when he’d managed to touch it. Her skin was so pale, and he knew it would feel smooth under his hands. He couldn’t wait to feel her under him, submitting and begging for his cock.

He could almost feel her writhing under him, whimpering and moaning as he delighted her in ways she’d never known. Her lips would be soft; he was sure; so moist and delicious. God, he could imagine kissing her all day. The next day he needed to be on form, he needed to be in the zone. Surfing was out, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t getting laid this weekend. Bella would be his.

Edward’s thoughts dissolved into pictures, images of Bella and he intertwined. Lips touched while arms and legs entangled; hearts racing and breaths gasping. In his sleep his heart raced in tandem, he twitched and writhed in the foreign bed, wishing to be ever closer to the object of his desires.

On a gasp he awoke, sudden in the dark. His head was a mess of white noise, and even if it were light in the room he wasn’t sure he’d be able to see. All he wanted to do was sleep. But his throat hurt, he was so thirsty. So, standing he looked to the left, to his companions who still slept like the dead.

Blindly Edward headed out into the corridor, he had no idea where the kitchen was, and he didn’t remember seeing one when he was downstairs. But there was a slit of light at the end of the hallway, so he stumbled slowly, passing the stairs, and heading toward that strip of light.

He could hear noise through the door, a shuffling of fabric and the creak of bed springs. His heart picked up. Could this be Bella’s bedroom? How wrong was it of him to peak through that crack in the door? But he did not allow himself time to answer that before he was on his knees, eye pressed to the key hole like the vicarious voyeur he was. He watched with a racing heart and sore knees as the scene before him unfolded.

All in chiffon and seeming to float about the room were the girls. Alice lounged upon a chaise longue, Rosalie next to her, softly running a hand through her hair, all while Bella spun daintily in the middle of the room. The material slung about them was sheer, practically transparent revealing all their delicious dips and curves to Edward’s prying eyes. From the pink of their nipples to the smooth skin of their cunts, nothing was hidden to him. He delighted in their ignorance.

“I wish we could have them now,” Alice moaned, writhing sensually against her companion, delighting in the tightening of Rosalie’s grip.

“Patience now,” Bella cooed. She spun towards her friends, dropping to her knees before them, and taking one of their hands in each of her own. “Tomorrow is the full moon, tomorrow we can have them.”

“I hate that we must wait, I long for them so,” Rosalie groaned, sighing deep and long as she stared into Bella’s eyes.

“So do I, but the boys will still be here tomorrow night, when we may enjoy them to our hearts content.”

Edward’s heart picked up as his sleepy eyes blinked. He rejoiced to know that these girls hungered for them, though he didn’t know why they would want to wait for a full moon. He supposed they must belong to some form of pagan cult, but he didn’t mind them a little strange, so long as he got what he wanted.

“You know,” Alice said, running her free hand down Bella’s hair, stopping at her shoulder and stroking the exposed skin there, “I do enjoy you on your knees.”

Bella smirked, letting go of their hands and placing them upon Alice’s thighs. Her skin was so soft and Bella loved feeling them clench under her touch. She slowly began to move her hands upwards, pushing the light material from her way. Her eyes never left Alice’s, till Rosalie stopped stroking Alice’s head and began running her hands down from Alice’s shoulders, untying her robe and pushing it softly from her, exposing her breasts to the air about them.

Alice sighed and closed her eyes, revelling in the sensation of two sets of hands upon her.

Bella pushed aside the last of the thin shrug, exposing Alice’s delicious little cunt. She couldn’t resist running her fingers along smooth pale skin, barely grazing along Alice’s flushed, plump pink lips. She delighted in her companion’s shiver of pleasure.

“Hundred’s of years later and still you delight in teasing,” Rosalie playfully shook her head, while her own palm ran soft across Alice’s nipples.

“You’ll get your turn,” Bella promised.

Unable to hold back any longer, she gripped Alice’s thighs tight, before leaning forward and placing one soft, delicate kiss upon her lips, the last delicate act of the night, as seconds after she was fingers deep in Alice’s hot, wet cunt. Her tongue swirled and pulsed against Alice’s swollen nub, causing her to moan and writhe. Her skin was flushed with desire, her eyes rolling, delirious.
Rosalie relished in her paramour’s squirming frame, each arc of her spine gave such delicious friction, and Rosalie couldn’t wait for her own release. But watching Alice come apart under Bella’s skilled tongue and hands was immense pleasure in and of itself, patience would be her virtue.

Bella could never hold back. She could tease and tempt with the best of them, thousands of years practice had made her an excellent lover. However once she had started, after just one taste of her inamoratas’ cunt and such frenzy began in her. She would not pause nor rest till she brought Alice to completion. A peak which she knew was fast approaching, as Alice’s breaths became shorter and faster with every flick of Bella’s tongue and curl of her sinfully skilled fingers.

Finally it became too much. The gentle scrape of Rosalie’s nails along her décolletage, the rhythmic curl and twist of Bella’s fingers, buried so deep inside of her, and the steady drum of her tongue was Alice’s undoing, and she collapsed on an immense shiver, breathless and spent against Rosalie.

“To be so good should be a sin,” Alice laughed. Her legs were like jelly and her mind was limp, yet she was acutely aware of the sharp pricks of Rosalie’s erect nipples in her back and the gentle rub of Bella’s hands along her thighs. Patience was wearing thin. She smirked.

“But my poor darling’s, you have waited much too long to be sure.” Saying this she stood, dropping the thin shawl, allowing Edward a full view of her body. But it was not her he wished to sneak a glance of, and he prayed for Bella to stand with her.

As though hearing his plea, Bella gripped tight to Alice’s outstretched palm allowing her to be pulled to standing, and shrugging off the flimsy material that cloaked her from his voyeuristic eyes. She was perfect, all pale, smooth skin and sloping curves. He wanted nothing more than to run his tongue up the length of her. Seeing her feast so hungrily upon her friend only served to stir his desire, giving no thought to the idea that she did not hunger for him in the same way.

Together as three they walked to the bed, Rosalie and Bella led by Alice, before lying naked and languid upon the satin covering. Edward shuffled in his crouched position outside the door, cringing at the noise his jeans made upon the floorboards. But the noise went unheard, so engrossed in each other were the women, and he breathed a soft sigh of relief, before settling in to enjoy the rest of the show.

They did not speak as they moved, gentle touches and caresses passed between them. Such love between them, but such hunger too. Bella shifted until her back hit the heavy wooden bed frame, resting back and watching with a ravenous smirk upon her face as Rosalie positioned herself upon her hands and knees before her. She blew a stream of air upon Bella’s soft skin, revelling in the shivers that erupted, before lowering her face into her sumptuous folds. Unlike Bella, Rosalie had such restraint. Using her tongue she lapped and sucked, three fingers deep and thrusting just as she knew Bella loved, racing her to that peak. But then pulling back, eliciting painfully pleasurable moans from Bella. Rosalie blew another soft stream of air, laughing at the third time of doing this, and the grip Bella placed upon her companion’s long locks.

Alice watched it all, rubbing her hands along Rosalie’s long back, and around to her breasts. Alice would never get enough of Rosalie’s chest, she delighted in pinching her nipples, rolling them soft between her fingers and the groans this would entice from her blonde beloved. But she could not do this forever, this would not bring Rosalie the pleasure she desired, so as Rosalie leant forward thinking to tease Bella once more, Alice reached down and pushed her fingers decidedly inside of her. The gasp Rosalie emitted was exactly as Alice expected it to be, and she smiled as she began to rub soft at that spot inside of her that would make her tingle and come apart.

Mere seconds later they were all, save Alice, a quivering mess. Their moans filled the room, cascading over one another in a harmony of satisfaction.

Edward relaxed outside the door. He couldn’t believe his luck. He had only ever imagined finding Bella’s room, perhaps to see her undressing. But this; this was beyond any of his wildest fantasies. It could only have been better should he have been invited to join them, but one could not get everything one desired. Just as he prepared to move, for his legs had gone to sleep and his mind was soon to follow, a sudden movement from the room made him sit up.

There was a stirring upon the bed; great white-grey shapes were seemingly blowing above where he knew the girls to be. Squinting he shifted closer to the lock, for he could not be seeing what he thought he was seeing. But yes, as the shapes moved again, he had to be certain that they were…wings. Ever the curious boy he shuffled closer, till his eye was pushed right up to the key hole, any closer and he would be in the room. Once again his heart was racing, but it was not from a pleasurable sense of voyeurism, this was more primal. Though he would not admit to being scared of this unknown.

Bella sat up from the bed, her arms raised above her. She knew she had changed; they always did after they coupled. She could imagine her image to her companions. Skin paler, purple veins visible through her almost paper thin skin. Her eyes red and wide, the pupils like pin points in the light of the room. Her mouth would look normal until she opened it, and her multiple rows of razor sharp teeth were exposed. Looking down she saw her fingers, tangled with Alice and Rosalie’s, lengthened into claws tipped with long black talons; her feet would be the same. But the most staggering change was of course the added appendages escaping from her back, with a ten foot wingspan it was an impressive sight.

Bella smirked, thinking of the boys sleeping just down the hall. They had no idea what they had willingly walked into. Such a devilish trap and yet one that had worked for near to seven hundred years now, since the girls had first met. She could not wait to feast upon their bones.

In her natural state her eyesight was honed, as was her sense of smell and hearing, so when a shuffle from outside the door caused her pointed ears to prick up, she was upon the unsuspecting fool in seconds; Rosalie and Alice right behind her. Their growls were feral; their teeth exposed as Bella hoisted Edward up by his shirt front. His eyes were wide, his breaths coming in short gasps.

“You were spying,” she accused.

“I didn’t-I mean-” he stammered. They chuckled. Were it up to Bella she could kill him now and be done with it. But they could only feed once a month, and to waste such blood would be foolish. So instead she set him down, watching as he struggled to decide whether to flee not. She did not give him a choice.

“Edward,” she said her voice deeper in this body. His eyes met hers and he was transfixed, no thought of his own could pass through his mind under her control. “You saw nothing.”

“I saw nothing,” he parroted back.

“You shall return to your bed, and not wake up till tomorrow afternoon with Emmet and Jasper.”

“I shall return to bed, and not wake up till tomorrow afternoon.”

“Good,” she smiled; she could feel her wings retracting, her body shrinking back to her human form, “we’ll see you tomorrow.”

After nodding, Edward about faced and walked back the way he had come, with no idea as to why he was out of bed in the first hand.


When Edward awoke he felt sure his head would explode. His throat hurt and his body ached as he sat up, looking groggily about the room to the stirring forms of Emmett and Jasper. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu but ignored it. In the soft light he took in the room they had slept in, like the rest of the cabin the walls were lined with wood, and other than the three beds there was nothing much else in the room, except a rickety old chest of drawers.

Edward walked, slouched and rubbing a hand through his hair, towards the drawers and the pictures which sat upon them. They were photographs of a family, and at first he thought they must be Bella’s, but she was not in any of the photos. In fact, he thought, none of the occupants of the pictures looked anything like her. He had no idea who they could be.

“Fuck,” Emmett groaned, “my head is killing me.”

“Aye, mine too,” Jasper complained.

“How much did we drink last night?” Edward laughed, turning his back on the strange photographs.

“God knows. What time is it?” Jasper asked.

Edward looked down to his watch, frowning as he looked to the time. But that couldn’t be right. He blinked slowly, before focusing once again on the watch face. Surely it had gotten stuck during the night; but no the second hand still ticked. Clearing his throat he answered, confused.

“It’s nearly six, in the evening.”

“Fucking hell!” Emmett exclaimed. “That’s some prime flirting time gone.”

“Fuck flirting,” Jasper sighed. “I’m starving.”

“Let’s go downstairs, meet up with the girls and get something to eat.”

The boys nodded, and as one they left the room. As Edward reached the top of the stairs he found himself looking to the opposite end of the landing, to a single door slightly ajar. His heart started racing, but he couldn’t say why. He’d never seen that door before, had he? As Jasper knocked into his shoulder, he shook it off. It was just because he was in a strange place, that’s all.

They found the girls in the kitchen, preparing three meals to candlelight. It wasn’t very dark yet, it would be another thirty minutes before the sun set, but in the flickering light of the candles the girl’s shadows looked longer and oddly shaped. Edward’s heart was flying in his chest, for a reason unknown, but he knew he didn’t like it, whatever the reason.

The boys sat around the table at the girl’s request, chatting amiably about over sleeping, of their initial plans for the weekend and how much they had enjoyed the day previous. But Edward was silent, laughing in all the right places but adding nothing of his own. His mind was spinning. Emmett and Jasper spoke of games played the night before, games Edward had no memory of. While he knew they’d drunk a lot the night before, he had never drunk so much that he’d completely blacked out. What was going on?

The food was delicious, and the boys wolfed it down, clearing their plates in minutes. None noticed that the girls didn’t eat; they only sat watching hungrily as the boys devoured their meals. Edward collected the plates, walking over to the sink and placing them in it, looking out to the forest surrounding them and the sun as it dipped below the horizon. The moon was already out, and hung full and red low in the sky.

“A blood moon,” Bella whispered as she walked up behind him. He jumped, having not heard her approach.

“Looks it,” he replied.

“Why don’t you come upstairs?” She purred, stroking a hand down his arm before she gripped his wrist. Edward found himself unable to deny her.

Solemnly the six figures marched back up the stairs, turning left at the landing and heading to that door, still ajar, that had Edward’s heart beating a staccato within his chest. As it was, when Bella led him inside the wood panelled room his stomach rolled, and he thought for sure he would be sick. He couldn’t stop this feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

Joining Jasper and Emmett upon the end of the bed he leant towards his comrades, attempting to whisper his worries into their ears. But they weren’t listening, their eyes were focused on the girls before them, and it did not take long until Edward was caught up in the hypnotising image before him.

In the time it had taken for the boys to sit, and for Edward to worriedly attempt to gain his friends attentions, the girls had stripped bare. They stood fluid in their stationary poses, long limbs and pert breasts exposed to the cold air. They were all creamy skin and rose blushes, hooded eyes and pouting lips. The boys were transfixed.

As they moved, Jasper, Emmett and Edward’s eyes followed them, as they spun and twisted, becoming caught in each other’s embraces. When their lips touched and tongues brushed one another, every boy grew hard, tense and straining. As Rosalie brushed her hand against Bella’s breast, and Bella’s hand dipped into Alice’s cunt, while Alice’s mouth ravished Rosalie’s lips, the boys begged to be invited in. This was what they were waiting for, why they had come into the house in the first place.

But as time went on and breath grew short and hearts raced, the boys realised this was not a six person show, and the girls really had no intention of including them in their games. Yet still, as the truth of it all collapsed on them, still they hoped, as all boys do, that their fantasies would come true.

Edward had the most horrifying sense of déjà vu as the girls suddenly wrenched apart, turning with cocked heads to the boys. He moved without a seconds notice, his body reacting before his mind could comprehend. He slid below the bed, head raised in such gruesome curiosity to watch his friends’ demise, even as he listened to their screams.

The girls transformed into beasts, tough grey skin replacing soft pink flesh, and great leathery wings breaking free of their backs. Their mouths became gaping caverns, filled with row upon row of razor sharp teeth. Jasper and Emmett didn’t see them coming as they charged them.

Jasper tried to run, but Alice’s claws breaking the soft skin of his neck stopped him. Blood ran in rivulets down his neck, as he choked on the thick fluid. He was drowning in his blood, yet still he breathed on. Even as her free arm reached forward, ripping through his abdominals, pulling free reams of intestines. He could only watch as his innards spilt upon the floor.

“Foolish man,” she growled, running her long sharp tongue along his cheek, lapping at the tears falling.

His pain did not last long as she punched a hand into his chest, drawing out his still beating heart and consuming it before his dying eyes.

Emmett was awarded it two-fold, as both Rosalie and Bella latched themselves into him; Rosalie’s claws around his neck and shoulder, and Bella’s into his abdomen, pinning him against the wall.

Rosalie smirked, her red eyes slanted and amused. How she had wished to take him the first time she saw him; so big, and full of blood, begging to be consumed. How she wished to take her time, but now that he was here, pleading and crying with her, she found she could not waste time on torturing him, no matter how much she wished to.

But Rosalie, unlike Alice, did not enjoy feasting upon a dead body and so bit first into the front of his shoulder. She drank slow, savouring the thick, sweet taste of his blood. So rich and full of life, with his heart pumping so quickly. Didn’t it know it would only die faster that way?

Her next bite was to his wrist, where she lapped and purred as a feline, as Emmett’s screams filled the air. Like honey to her ears. The next two bites were quick, to his groin and the back of his knee. His heart was still going fast, though there was now so little to send about his dying form. What had not been consumed by Rosalie was running rivers down his body, painting him and the wooden floor red; she delighted in it.

With her last bite to his neck she drained him dry, leaving him pale and limp upon the floor. She kicked him quickly out of the way as she strolled to where Alice and Bella stood in the middle of the room.

“Edward escaped,” Alice stated. In their frenzy they had not noticed the boy running and tripping across the room.

“He won’t have got far,” Bella sneered, before shooting into the air and through the glass of the window and into the night.

She flew close over the trees, following the scent of his blood like an illuminated path through the woods. Dipping low she saw him, and touched the earth with a resounding crack, smirking as his heart almost skipped a beat. Bella could not wait to devour him.

She was joined by Rosalie and Alice, and as one they gave chase, making as much noise as they could, going slow to allow him to believe he had somehow won. While he fell they watched, smirking at the hope they all felt from him as he reached the road. Poor misguided man.

It took them mere seconds to catch up to him, and end him. They brought his body back to the house and added it, along with the other two men, to the growing pile of rotting male corpses that filled their basement. Then they returned to their room, to rejoice in another bountiful feed, before preparing to lie in wait, until next month, and the next victims to enter their woods.


Posted by on October 31, 2011 in Halloween Fest


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