RSS

Tag Archives: Alec

VampSlash Roundup in the TwiKinkFest

The TwiKinkFest is “officially” complete, but there are still unclaimed prompts that are just begging to be written, many of which are vampslash prompts. Visit the tumblr blog for rules and procedures, and then check out the spreadsheet to see what’s left.

Without further ado, VampSlash in the TwiKinkFest! (NOTE: asterisks [**] denote fics added to this list since the last update.)

Bareback Mountain by Fr333bird
Pairing: Felix/Emmett
Word Count: 3,601
Summary: Felix and Emmett have always longed for someone of equal size and strength to spar with. They meet secretly once a year to give in to their basest urges, hunting and fighting. This year one thing leads to another.
Prompt: Vampslash! Felix and Emmeett have both longed for years for someone of equal size and strength to spar with. Despite the fact that their covens are at odds, they meet secretly once a year to give in to their basest urges – hunting and fighting. This time around, their wrestling becomes heated and sexy and turns into hot vampy fucking. Bonus points for unexpected tenderness mid-fuck and bloodplay.
My thoughts: Emmett? Check. Vamp hunting? Check. Hot vampy fucking? Check. Bottom!Emmett? I’m fucking dead.

**Body, remember by rhythm junkie
Pairing: Demetri/Mike
Word Count: 4,902
Summary: [see prompt]
Prompt: Marking with bruises. Slash, any pairing except Edward/Jasper, vamp/human. For example, vamp Garrett loves to grip boyfriend Mike’s wrists/throat/other body part a little too tightly, feeling the blood pool and watching it form a bruise under delicate human skin. I’d like this to be completely consensual and enjoyed by both men. No heavy pain play or D/s themes please.
My thoughts: This one wasn’t at all what I expected, but it exceeded any expectation I had. Something that stuck with me was the way the author was somehow able to evoke the senses – as I said in my review to her, I feel like I felt this story, rather than read it.

**Crescent Moon by dellaterra
Pairing: Jasper/?
Word Count: 6,787
Summary: The first bite was unintended… A very AU tale of what happened after Jasper’s escape from Maria, told from his rescuer’s POV. Rated M for M/M vamp slash, biting, and scarification. Written for the Twi Kink Fest. Read warning first.
Prompt: Jasper’s scars cover his body. His mate (slash pairing) wants to love on his scars, claim his scars, so they become representative of something beautiful. Biting them to create new scars is totally acceptable. Mate can be any vamp but preferably not Edward.
My thoughts: In the interest of full disclosure, this was one of my prompts, so I’ll try to tone down the squeeing. I will say, however, that this filled the prompt better than I could possibly have imagined. dellaterra took the prompt and put a very real, very beautiful story behind it. The story is told in first person POV and we don’t find out the speaker until the very end, but that’s okay because it’s Jasper’s story. Please do read the warning, I admit to a little bit of squick at one point, but it was an absolutely wonderful story and you’re doing a disservice to yourself if you don’t read it.

**Do or Die by vampireisthenewblack
Pairing: Edward/Carlisle
Word Count: 4,733
Summary: For the Twilight Kink Fest. Prompt: Fuck or Die. NM AU. Edward/Carlisle. Vampslash. NC-17.
Prompt: Fuck or Die, Edward. I don’t care how it happens. Maybe an evil vampire injects E w/vampire semen and the result is that he needs vamp semen to survive, needs it daily, worse than blood. Without it he’s weak, in pain…dying. He can take it orally or anally. Craves it all ways. As long as he gets enough he’s stable. Any vamp can satisfy him but I’d like to see Jasper or C or Em even claim/demand the sole responsibility for keeping E alive.
My thoughts: Like just about anything vampireisthenewblack writes, this is angsty but delicious. It features a painfully broken Edward for whom you can’t help feeling sorry. I won’t spoil it, but my favorite bit is at the very end where we see a beautifully protective side of Carlisle that will make any Carlward shipper’s heart happy.

**End Game by ArcadianMaggie
Pairing: Emmett/Jasper/Mike
Word Count: 6,225
Summary: The next time Mike enters the locker room after practice, the sound of running water is enough to make him burn. He knows Emmett’s just on the other side of that wall. Written for the Kink Fest. PWP. Slash. Mature content.
Prompt: Double penetration. M/M/M. At least one vamp, though I’d prefer the guy getting penetrated be human. Emmett comes to mind as a penetrator, but that’s not necessarily a requirement. And I wouldn’t be opposed to two vamps doing the penetration of one human. Not at all…
My thoughts: This was another of my prompts in the kinkfest and I was thrilled that ArcadianMaggie picked it up, and then doubly thrilled with how she wrote it. The building sexual tension is palpable (thank God for Jasper!) and the little ways in which Jasper and Emmett entice Mike into a sexual liaison were absolutely delicious. This fic is exactly what the prompt asked for and is perfect for it. Just remember that this is, in fact, a vampslash story.

For A Pack of His Own by anon
Pairing: Jacob/Sam/Paul
Word Count: ~1,300
Summary: [see prompt]
Prompt: In order to establish his status as alpha, Jacob forces his pack to submit to him. Sam immediately offers himself on all fours and this is where Jake starts. Each pack member reacts differently. Paul refuses to submit and is forced after a fight in human form. Bonus for bloody nose and mouth. Double bonus if Paul sucks Jake’s cock while bleeding. Jake should hold Paul down the whole time, telling him that he will submit.
My thoughts: Short, well-done, and fills the prompt perfectly. As a warning, this falls pretty solidly into the non-con category. So take that as your warning if that’s a hard limit for you.

**My Wolf by CherBella
Pairing: Carlisle/Sam
Word Count: 10,251
Summary:
 TwiKinkFest story: To Look Into Their Eyes Forever Imprints Your Heart, To Hear Their Howls Forever Marks Your Soul, To Connect With Them Forever Bonds Your Spirits… Two lonely enemies destined to be together.
Prompt: I want first time animalistic outdoor sex, vamp or wolf or vamp/wolf with trees breaking, boulders cracking, etc. Could be after a fight or a tragic loss. High emotion fueling primal need with no thought to the destruction, complete letting go & unleashing of strength. Preferred pairings Edward/Jacob, Edward/Seth, but any pairing is fine, het & femme included!
My thoughts: Carlisle moves to Forks sans family and a few days later Sam shows up as his neighbor. Carlisle regularly goes running, both to clear his head and to hunt, and soon a wolf is matching his strides in the forest. Carlisle is remarkably unintuitive when it comes to these two things, but it appears that Sam’s his singer, so he must be forgiven. This fic features voyeur!Carlisle AND bottom!Carlisle, neither of which are versions of Carlisle I think we see enough of. And the fist time animalistic outdoor sex? Yum.

No Consequence by beckybrit
Pairing: Alec/Jane
Word Count: 5,094
Summary: To combat boredom, Alec and Jane toy with their victims before feasting on them. Warning: M/M/F scenes, incest and main character death/torture.
Prompt: Pain play & possible twincest. To combat boredom, Alec and Jane toy with their victims before feasting on them. I’m thinking a good cop (Alec)/bad cop (Jane) scenario. I’ll leave it up to the author to determine how sexual things get, but I’m open to pretty much anything, including a threesome (or moresome) involving twincest.
My thoughts: Um… *squirms*… so apparently I enjoy twincest. Or perhaps it was the bloodplay and the treatment of vampires like they’re actually vampires and enjoy the taste of blood. Whatever it was, this whole story really worked for me. Though I admit a moment of heartclench when beckybrit revealed Alec and Jane’s plaything. Still, it really worked.

Pack Bonding by Fr333bird
Pairing: Seth/Sam
Word Count: 4,285
Summary: Seth is new to the pack and has to take part in a rite of passage. Contains explicit sex acts with more than one partner, a little dub-con at first. Unashamedly kinky but also kind of sweet. Seth/wolfpack. [Warnings: dub-con at first. Voyeur Leah only – no incest.]
Prompt: Wolfpack gang bang with Seth on the receiving ed. Bonus points if it’s part of a rite of passage within the pack. Prefer human form and slash only, but it’s okay if Leah gets in on the action, too. Dub-con okay if author feels it necessary to get things started, but no non-con, please.
My thoughts: This could totally be canon. A wonderfully twisted canon that would never have crossed Stephenie Meyer’s mind, but canon nonetheless. Seth was totally in character – trusting, open, caring – and I absolutely buy this as a pack initiation.

**Passion Flower by SqueakyZorro
Pairing: Carlisle/Aro
Word Count: 3,544
Summary: [see prompt]
Prompt: Aro has been trying to seduce Carlisle since he arrived in Volterra. He’s even had Chelsea reinforce Carlisle’s bond with Aro. Yet Carlisle continues to resist, as Aro is mated. Aro eventually resorts to placing a plant in C’s room, its pollen rumored to incite uncontrollable lust when in bloom. sex!pollen
My thoughts: I think the verbal ‘foreplay’ that Carlisle and Aro inevitably engage in whenever they’re together, sexually or not, is my favorite part, and this doesn’t disappoint. Oh, the sex is pretty hot, too. 😉

Prey by kgq
Pairing: Edward/James
Word Count: 3,836
Summary: [see prompt]
Prompt: I’d like to read some bloodlapping in vampslash preferably but het would do too. During sex or in a non-sexual situation, but with hidden or clear sexual context. Please.
My thoughts: This was a little hard for me to follow at times, but I absolutely love the premise. And as much as James is a sadistic dick in the original, I kind of love the Edward/James pairing. And (final “and”, I promise) the bloodlapping in this? Jesus. Dead.

Red Strawberries by Miss Dare
Pairing: Edward/Jasper
Word Count: 4,677
Summary: Edward loves how pretty Jasper looks wearing mascara. But that’s only the start of it.
Prompt: Ooh, some forced feminization with Jasper/Edward pairing please. There’s so little of this out there but what there is I’ve loved.
My thoughts: Forced fem really isn’t my thing, but this was very well done. I love the established, loving relationship, and the rimming – UNF – the rimming was top notch.

Pairing: Edward/Jasper
Word Count: 3,846
Summary: [see prompt]
Prompt: Edward and Jasper want to help Carlisle overcome his shame for homosexual urges which he can barely admit to himself. They fuck in increasingly filthy ways when they know he’s near, until Carlisle can’t help hiimself and jacks off while watching. Vamp preferred.
My thoughts: If the prompt doesn’t entice you to read this, I don’t know what will. Quasi-accidental voyeur!Carlisle, and kinda exhibitionist Ed/Jas. Delicious.

**The Man You Make of Me by theladyingrey42
Pairing: Carlisle/Edward
Word Count: 4,391
Summary: “He was all long limbs and soft lips, hair the color of walnut set to flame. Even polluted with disease, his blood smelled sweet. Like he was meant for me. Made for me. And so I took him.” ExC, vampslash. For the TwiKinkFest.
Prompt: Carlisle/Edward. I want a possessive Carlisle. In character, he’s the voice of reason all the time, but when it comes to Edward, don’t cross him. Claiming Edward of some sort. I’d prefer Vamp/Vamp, but any works. Marks from the “claiming”. Bareback. Maybe Edward has been flirting, trying to push Carlisle. Please!
My thoughts: This is exactly everything that vampslash Carlward should be. It’s possessive and needy and vampy and violent and perfectly lovely. Seriously. Stop reading this right here and go read the story. Now. I’ll even give you an extra link to it. Go.

The Thought That Counts by RaindropSoup
Pairing: Edward/Alec/Caius
Word Count: 5,647
Summary: Mindreading is not only an overwhelming ability but also a sixth sense, and the gift of sensory deprivation might just be a condemning Godsend. Post-BD.
Prompt: Edward/Alec vampy-bondagey thing… Alec uses his gift to cut off Edward’s senses, plunging (heh!) him into a stage of sensory deprivation – except for the pleasure Alec wants to give him, of course. Maybe he invites others to participate as well – and it’s the writer’s choice as to whether Edward can still red the minds of whoever is involved.
My thoughts: Edward + Alec + Caius + Demetri. Seriously? Volturi vampfic always gets me going, and the author does a great job with her first slash fic. I do wonder what got Edward to this point after the events in BD…

The Whipping Boy by Fr333bird and beckybrit
Pairing:
 Edward/Seth
Word Count: 10,949
Summary:  Edward and Seth are captured by the Volturi, but the experience brings them together in a way E never expected. This is ultimately a love story, albeit a dark one. WARNINGS: contains graphic torture and some elements of sexual abuse.
Prompt: The Whipping Boy. AU, Wolf/Vamp Slash. Ed and Seth are captured by the Volturi. Seth is tortured whenever Edward refuses to obey an order. Graphic torture (remember shifter’s rapid healing) and hurt/comfort sex between Ed/Seth. Feel free to include sexy Dom/sub action with a male Volturi (Marcus please), but Ed and Seth should be the focus of the fic. HEA not required, but love would be appreciated.
My Thoughts: This one really took me by surprise. Whipping is not a kink of mine, but this doesn’t really treat whipping as a kink. The authors handle the subject matter beautifully, and the relationship between Seth and Edward is real and believable. Takes place in a BD AU where Bella was killed in the non-battle at the end of the book.

The White Dress by avioleta
Pairing: Carlisle/Edward
Word Count: 5,599
Summary: “When he wears the white dress, Carlisle knows he will have to touch him.”
Prompt: Cross-dressing, slash, vamp E/C. It starts off with Carlisle and Edward trying to hide their relationship from an unforgiving society, but it turns out to be so much more. Edward grows to love wearing the pretty dresses and silky lingerie. He loves getting dressed up for Carlisle, and being ‘Esme, the perfect wife’. He loves getting bent over the table with his skirt pushed up, and Carlisle’s cock in his ass.”
My thoughts: Cross-dressing is not really my kink (though it’s growing on me), but fuck if this didn’t kill me. avioleta writes E/C absolutely perfectly, and she does a brilliant job of putting Edward comfortably in a dress. (For other reference, please read A Cinderella Story, not vampslash but one of my all-time favorites. And I will get everyone to read it if it’s the last thing I do!)

**Timeless by shoefreak37
Pairing: Demetri/Felix
Word Count: 4,013
Summary: While monitoring the newborn army in Seattle, Demetri and Felix find ways to indulge while also getting themselves fed. Entry for the Twilight Kink Fest. Takes place during Eclipse.
Prompt: Dubcon + possible bloodplay. Demitri/Felix + human(s). I’d like to see these vamps indulge in a bit of carnal delight before draining their next meal. Bloodplay a plus. Obviously dub-con, with the human(s) being so overwhelmed by their attraction to the vamps, they think they want it and are grateful to get it… Slash preferred, but a combination of slash/het okay too.
My thoughts: All I have to say about this is that it’s exactly – exactly – what I imagine Demetri and Felix are really like. It’s exactly how their relationship would work and exactly how two, centuries-old vampires would behave. And it is brilliant.

**To the Victor Go the Spoils by MarchHare5
Pairing: Carlisle/Jasper
Word Count: 9,731
Summary: When Carlisle’s coven of females is threatened by an interloper, Carlisle’s instincts run away with him as he teaches his rival a lesson he’ll never forget. Very OOC. Graphic. Heed warnings inside. For the TwiKinkFest.
Prompt: Vamp Carlisle is the leader of his coven (females only) New male rival, Jasper, threatens the balance and gets dominated and fucked into submission as he stumbles upon a hunting trip. Dirty bareback feral forced anal. The more feral the better!
My thoughts: Well, dirty bareback feral forced anal was the prompt, and this absolutely delivered. This is Carlisle as you’ve never seen him, and a sad, ruined Jasper. It displays a very different coven hierarchy and dynamic than we’re familiar with in the Twilight universe, but it works for this fic. Do be warned that there’s quite a bit of het in this, but since Carlisle and Jasper do have sex, it still counts as vampslash.

If you see any others that I’ve missed, or yours has been written and isn’t featured above, give me a holler!
 
Leave a comment

Posted by on December 5, 2011 in Fandom Events

 

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

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?”
Disclaimer:
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.

“Yes…yes.”

“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.”

“But—”

“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.

 
10 Comments

Posted by on October 31, 2011 in Halloween Fest

 

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

Halloween Fest: The Romantic

Author: vampireisthenewblack
Pairing/MC: Alec, Edward, Seth
Genre(s): slash, AU,
Wordcount: 3300
Prompt/recipient: #10
Rating: MA
Warnings: non-con
Summary: I will be punished when Aro finds out what I have lost for him, but I have served him well for centuries, and if I am lucky, I will escape with my life.
Disclaimer: Not mine.

The Romantic

It is a vampire—there’s no question about it—and it is perfectly still, as only our kind can be. But it is clear from the moss that has grown around the fingers where they clutch the wall behind it that it has been in just this position for a very long time.

Someone cares for it. There are marks where the moss and vines have been cleared away, ripped from the naked forearms. If it had not been attended to, this vampire would have been hidden in the growth that has covered every inch of this old house.

The house must have been very fine, once. Remnants of white paint peel away beneath the creeping ivy, and moss has devoured what once must have been a plush carpet beneath my feet. Moisture squishes away with every step I take.

But this vampire, this beautiful boy who stands flush with the dripping wall, eyes closed, face blank, the circles beneath his eyes darker than any I’ve ever seen, even on the most starved of vampires, is the only thing in the house that is not covered in the forest that is slowly reclaiming its rightful place.

I touch him, press my fingertips against his cheeks, his lips, and he is pliable beneath my fingers, yet he gives no sign that he is aware.

Our kind cannot die without the form we are in being completely destroyed, and so I can only surmise that this is some kind of sleep.

Or the closest thing to it.

If a vampire simply cannot feed, I wonder if this is what would happen. I’ve never heard of such a thing, and I have existed for centuries, serving as a member of the Volturi Guard since my change. Surely the Volturi would have heard of such a thing if it were possible.

I imagine what it would be like to have such a thing as sleep, to take myself out of the world for a year, a decade, a century. I smile at the prospect of leapfrogging through time, waking to find the world vastly changed.

Aro shall wish to see this.

“What do you say, strange, sleeping vampire? Will you wake if we move you?” I whisper as I lean up upon my toes and kiss the plump, pale lips.

I smell it before I hear it. It is just as Aro described: a thick, earthy, animal smell that makes me twist up my face in distaste, right before a heavy, rumbling growl erupts behind me.

~x~

I smile as I step away from the sleeping vampire. An enormous wolf—its great head hanging so low that we are eye to eye—approaches, stalks toward me.

“So you do exist,” I say, conversationally. “It’s always nice when you come so far to know that it hasn’t been for no reason.” I glance at the beauty who stands against the wall. “Though he would have been consolation enough, had you not shown yourself.”

The wolf growls again and leaps at me.

~x~

He’s quick, but not quick enough, and slides on the sodden floor as I turn, amused, after simply stepping out of the way of his attack.

“They say you are a vampire killer. Is it true that you are a man as well? That your form shifts? I’ve seen werewolves, and you are not one. Can you choose which body you inhabit?” I laugh. “I have so many questions. I apologise, for you can hardly answer as you are.”

The creature looks up at me, large, liquid eyes narrowing, and like a shimmering mirage, it changes. A man crouches on the floor, then stands tall.

And such a man. Large, made of muscle, as they say, and dark, delicious skin like the coat of the wolf itself. The man is naked, and I drink him in with my eyes.

“Vampires aren’t welcome on the peninsula.” His eyes are cold.

I laugh. “What about him?” I say as I look toward the sleeper against the wall.

“Edward hasn’t moved in fifty years,” the man whispers, and I detect a note of tenderness in his voice that he doesn’t attempt to hide. “And he was never a threat to my people.”

“Edward.” I try out the sound of the word as I return my focus to him. “Why does he not move? Do you know?”

“Grief.”

I think of Marcus, never speaking unless absolutely necessary, never moving unless required, never so much as shifting the expression on his face. “I think I understand. A lost love?” I turn to the man again. “Was it very tragic? Did his mate die, or was she claimed by another?”

The man stares at me in disbelief for a long moment, and then finally: “She married someone else. He never left the house afterward, except to hunt. Then she died. She was human; she just got old. He never moved again.”

I sigh happily. “Thank you.” I tip my head to the side and study the man. “You tend to him, but you are young. Who cared for him before you?”

The man lifts his chin. “I’m older than I look.”

“Tell me your name,” I say, as I move back to Edward and reach out to push my fingers through the unruly hair that is wet and full of slimy mosses.

The man knocks my hand away. He is strong and fast, even in this form, but not strong enough. I let him dissuade me and do not punish him by tearing off his hand.

“Don’t touch him.”

“Why not? Is he yours? He is a vampire, one of those you kill. Why do you care? Do you love him? Desire him? Hope that one day he will wake and you may claim him and heal his heart after his great loss? Vampires mate rarely, wolf. The loss of a mate is irrevocable. I’ve never seen one who has healed. Do you think an animal would be good enough—”

“Shut up,” the wolf says, as he shoves me back, away from Edward, pushing me across the room as I laugh.

I could stop him easily, I know, but I like him.

Then he becomes a wolf again and I must act quickly if I am not to find myself torn apart upon those massive teeth.

~x~

The creature whines. Like a blind, newborn pup searching for warmth and nourishment, it swings its head and rolls onto its side. It knows nothing, can feel nothing, therefore cannot threaten my life. Yet I am disappointed to have to take all sensation away from it.

Before my eyes the creature shifts from beast to man, and I wish I knew if it was a conscious attempt. Even if it was, I doubt very much that he is aware of its success. However, I am pleased that he has. This man has his own beauty, and such a creature must be explored.

I feel the heat of him before I touch his flesh. Hotter than human, and despite the stink of him that is surely a biological warning to my kind, I wonder what his blood would taste like. Would he taste human or wolf? Will the taste of him depend on his form?

Venom pools in my mouth at the thought of tasting him, but I swallow it back. There are far more interesting things I wish to do with this body before I taste him, and he is pliant now, prone, and will give no resistance. I push him onto his back, exposing him to me completely, and I touch him.

His body does not need conscious effort to respond to me. He cannot feel my touches, my gentle encouragement, but his body knows, and he hardens in my hands quickly. I apply my mouth to him, feeling the weight of his length, heavy on my tongue, and before long I am aroused enough to want more.

~x~

Slick with my venom, he slides into my body easily as I bear down upon him. He sighs in pleasure, and I know he cannot feel himself inside me, does not know where this pleasure comes from, only knows inside his mind, cut off from any outside senses, that he is euphoric. His body sends chemicals into his brain that make him cry out and writhe beneath me as I ride him.

He comes quickly without conscious effort to hold back, flooding my cold insides with hot fluid. I keep moving until he slips from me, and then I crawl up his lax body, pry his teeth apart and drive myself into that hot cavern and thrust into his face as I hold his head to me by his hair until I flood his mouth with my venom.

I turn him onto his side so he does not suffocate as he coughs, trying to breathe through the fluid in his throat.

~x~

It’s not the first time I’ve taken pleasure in one rendered incapable by my gift. I’ve satisfied myself with vampires and humans in similar ways. I leave the wolf-man on the stinking floor, my ejaculate leaking from the side of his mouth, and go back to Edward.

He still has not moved, though why I thought he might, I have no idea, nor mark to measure against. Is this like my gift, his lack of movement or response, or is it wholly different?

The garments he is clothed in are rotting away, and it is nothing for me to expose him to my hands. He is magnificent, even with the moss and insects that have been hidden from view by his clothing.

I wonder why his caretaker chose not to unclothe him and clean these parts that have been so neglected.

If there is a mind within this dormant vampire, it is buried deep. No matter how I coax him, simple arousal seems impossible.

“You think I haven’t tried that?”

I turn to see the wolf, the man, shaking off the last vestiges of my gift. He pushes up into a crouch, his eyes on mine, and he spits the last of my venom onto the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I expect anger, disgust. Instead, he is strangely nonchalant as he approaches. He looks down at me, seeming to appraise my naked form, and my body responds to his gaze.

He lifts his eyes back to mine. “How old are you?”

I lift my chin. “I have existed for centuries.”

The smirk on his face disarms me. “Not what I meant.” His hand comes to rest on my lower back, and slides further, over my naked backside. “How old were you when you were changed? Must have been young, huh?”

I gasp as his fingers slide down the cleft between my cheeks and press inside, slipping easily, lubricated by his own semen. “I have no memory of my human life, but I am told I was very young.”

“What’s your name, little vampire?” He pushes his fingers in further, and I lean forward, pressing my face against Edward’s chest.

“Alec,” I breathe.

“Hmmm. If you wanted me to fuck you, Alec, you should have just asked. Didn’t have to…do whatever you did to me.”

His breath is hot in my hair, his chest and thighs burn me as they press against my back, and his fingers thrust faster in and out of me. His arousal is evident as he presses against me from behind.

“Want me to fuck you again, Alec?” he hisses. “Did you like my cock in your ass? I know I fucked, but I don’t remember doing it. What is it you do? Take memories? Did you knock me out?”

“I take your senses…”

“I feel a little cheated, Alec.” He pulls his fingers from me and realigns himself, sliding his hard length between my cheeks. “How about I take what I missed out on, huh?”

“Yes,” I murmur. “Take me.”

“Sure you don’t like it better when I’m clueless? When I can’t do anything to stop you?”

I gasp and press back against him. “I only… I only take what no one will give me. Who would want this? This body?”

He stills. “No one wants to fuck you?”

I shake my head frantically as I push myself back against him.

He lowers himself, bending his knees, and drags the blunt head of his erection over my entrance until he pushes inside. “I’ve looked like this since I was fifteen years old,” he whispers into my ear. “You’ve looked fifteen for centuries. There’s something kinda perfect about it.” He pulls back, then thrusts hard, making my body rock against the sleeping vampire before me. With every thrust, the wolf lifts me off my feet, and I wrap my arms around Edward’s neck and hold on as the wolf fills me completely.

“I’ve done what you did to me,” the wolf grunts. “To Edward. For years I fucked him, hoping that one day he’d wake up. I didn’t care if he was pissed at me. I didn’t care if he killed me. I just wanted some kind of reaction.”

“You love him,” I gasp, against Edward’s throat.

“Always did, but he was with her, and then when she didn’t want him anymore, he still didn’t want me. And then when she was gone, he just stopped. He’s been like this ever since. He asked me to kill him, but I couldn’t do it. So I come here, and I keep the shit from growing on him, and I…”

“You take him like this.”

“He doesn’t even know what I’m doing. He never gets hard, never feels a thing. He’s dead.”

“He’s not dead.” A vampire cannot die, it can only be destroyed.

“He might as well be. I should have burned him, and this fucking house.”

The wolf says nothing more, only increases the pace and force of his thrusts until he gasps and floods me with warmth, and then collapses heavily against me. My face is pressed against the chest of the sleeping vampire, and I look up to see the wolf as he kisses the cold, unresponsive lips. Tears flow freely down his face and fall hot against my cheeks.

This is the true tragedy, I realise. Not the loss of Edward’s love, long ago. It is this, the love of a wolf for a vampire who could never return it.

I slide out from between the lovers and retrieve my clothing. I dress slowly, reluctant to finish what I came here to achieve, and yet I know it will be a kindness when I destroy this wolf and take the sleeping vampire away from here.

The wolf suddenly stiffens, pulling back to look down into the face of the sleeping vampire.

And then I see it, as he has felt it, an almost imperceptible movement. The lips, slowly part, the eyelids slowly open to reveal dull black irises.

“…kill…” the vampire breathes. “…will kill you…”

The wolf takes no notice of the words. He holds the vampire’s face in his hands, bends to look into his eyes. “Edward? Oh my god, Edward.” And then he kisses him, devouring the lips of the reawakened creature and swallowing any further words.

I laugh. “Can’t you see? He’s woken only to warn you of your death, and you will not let him speak?”

The wolf looks up at me, and then back down at the vampire in his arms. “Edward?”

With jerky movements, the vampire reaches up and takes the wolf’s face in his hands. “Seth?” he rasps. “Thirsty…”

“We’ll hunt,” says the wolf. “Like we used to, remember? I miss our hunts, Edward…”

“You…”

“Yeah, Edward? Tell me, love. Talk to me.”

The vampire seems to slump, his eyelids closing, his arms dropping to his sides as if exhausted. Then he peels away from the wall, leaving a man-shaped outline of moss and mildew, and falls to his hands and knees. It’s a weakness I’ve seen before in starved vampires—a punishment the Volturi will sometimes inflict on those they wish to suffer before their execution—but this is extreme. This vampire seems desperate to move and yet unable to do so. Utterly weak, unable even to hold up his own weight, he would likely be no match for a human of good strength. Then he slumps to the floor and is utterly still.

I have been sent to find the truth behind these tales of giant, vampire-killing wolves, and I have found it. I am charged with conveying the evidence back to Volterra. And if Aro knew about this sleeping vampire, he would want him as well.

Yet I find myself wishing to help these star-crossed lovers.

“He needs blood,” I say as I rush to Seth’s side and take his arm in my hand, swiftly opening the vein at his wrist with my fingernail.

The wolf cries out and struggles, but I hold the limb over Edward’s mouth, letting the flow of blood fall onto his tongue.

“No…I’ll get an animal…please…he’ll fucking kill me.”

“He just needs enough to wake, and then he can get his own. Besides, would you not give your life to save his?”

“He’s not gonna die?”

“You have no sense of romance,” I huff.

“You’re crazy.”

I look at the wolf and smirk. “Yes, I probably am. I just want to see him wake. I want to watch your happily ever after before I leave. I am likely certifiable. It could cost me my own life. Think about that.”

The wolf stares for a few moments, and then turns back to his vampire. He holds the bleeding wound over Edward’s open mouth until the flow eases, and then he sits back, the body of the vampire in his arms, stroking his putrid hair and kissing his bloodstained lips.

Then the vampire gasps, pulling air into his lungs in a rush. His eyes fly open and they are entirely black, the lack of blood leaching the colour out of even the white of the eye. He seeks out the source of the blood, grabbing the wrist of his wolf as if to bring it to his lips.

The wolf pulls away. “Edward, it’s me, Seth. You’re awake.”

The vampire tips his head to the side, peering closer at the wolf’s face. “Seth?”

The wolf nods and pulls Edward into his arms. “You’ve been asleep for so long…”

“Sleep? No, I can’t…”

I know it’s never going to happen for me. For one such as myself, changed too young, love is unobtainable. But this—knowing I have had some part in bringing together two for whom love has been elusive—warms my heart in a way I think perhaps love might feel. If I could feel it.

I meet Jane and Demetri and Felix outside the house. I smell human blood all over them and my throat burns.

“You missed a fine feast, brother,” Jane says. “Why did you not join us?”

“I was…exploring,” I say. “Did you do all right without me? I hope it wasn’t an inconvenience.”

“Not at all. We took them all in their sleep. The entire tribe. If any among them were the wolves we’ve heard so much about, they are no more.”

“Very well. Shall we go home?”

Jane leads the way, with Felix at her side. Demetri narrows his eyes as he passes me to walk ahead, but he says nothing.

They cannot see the secret smile that spreads across my face as I catch the fading scent of the wolf on my skin and imagine the lovers leaving that rotting house behind them.

I will be punished when Aro reads my mind and discovers what I have lost for him, but I have served him well for centuries, and if I am lucky, I will escape with my life. A little starvation I can survive, and it will be well worth it.

 
14 Comments

Posted by on October 31, 2011 in Halloween Fest

 

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

Character Study: Alec

character

Alec

twilight_saga_s_new_moon59 Alec of the Volturi Guard.  How I love this boy! True, I never gave him a second thought until I cast him as the villain in the very first brainstorm for a certain AH Edward/Seth fic I once decided to write 😉 That’s a very long story that I won’t go into here, but it is true that my love affair with Alec began with the AH incarnation of Brit Alec in Say Something Else. He still has a very cosy and warm place in my heart, of course, but it’s canon, vampire, Volturi Alec that I’m now firmly head over heels for.

The first time I wrote Alec as a vampire was in Fire, Blood, Truth for the first Beyond the Pale contest, and I wrote him canon. I re-read whole chapters of New Moon and Breaking Dawn to garner the tiny specks of information I needed to date him and to establish his gift.

But before I did that, I checked out his bio on Twilight Lexicon. Back then, they hadn’t updated to include anything about his gift, and his origin was understandably vague. One thing I did find that I’d never seen anywhere in canon, was the reference to Alec and Jane almost being burnt at the stake for witchcraft. Aha! I thought. We’re looking at somewhere in the second millennium. Inquisition I could work with, it’s an era I’ve studied before.

But lo and behold, when I re-read Breaking Dawn, I discovered that Alec and Jane had to have been changed much, much earlier.

Origin

It all hinges on the Romanian vampires, Vladimir and Stefan. When Vladimir says:

“We’ve been waiting for fifteen hundred years, Stefan. And they’ve only gotten stronger with the years.”

he is referring to the Volturi’s conquest over the Romanian coven. Later, during the epic battle that wasn’t:

“…Alec owes me many lives, but I will settle for his… He’s mine.”

suggesting that Alec was one of the main reasons for the Volturi’s conquest. Therefore, Alec existed fifteen hundred years before the events that transpired in Breaking Dawn.

I figure Alec and Jane were changed not long before. I imagine that Aro would have taken advantage of his advantage over the Romanians as soon as he was able, so I’ve dated Alec’s change at around 500AD.

There is, however, a moment in Eclipse where Jane implies that she has never met Carlisle before:

“It was nice to meet you, Carlisle—I’d thought Aro was exaggerating.”

which caused me some confusion. I can only assume that Steph didn’t have Alec and Jane’s history finalised when she wrote Eclipse, because this is one hell of a continuity issue. So when I write, I choose to ignore this little piece of canon (because it doesn’t fit later accounts). The only other option is to assume that Jane was not with the Volturi during those decades that Carlisle was staying with them—which seems a bit of a stretch.

There are no clues that I can pick up as to what part of the world Alec and Jane are originally from. Their names are English, so it’s possible that their origin is Britain in the early Middle Ages. When I first wrote Alec, however, I made him Italian and used the Byzantine culture to influence his attitudes and ideas.

Appearance

In New Moon, Bella describes Jane (and by default we assume Alec is of a similar appearance in age):

At first I thought it was a young boy. The newcomer was as tiny as Alice…

The body under the cloak…was slim and androgynous.

Her size was so insignificant…

…Jane spoke again, her childish voice…

The Twilight Lexicon entry on Alec describes his age when changed only as ‘very young’. The witchcraft story that is not found in canon implies that Aro would have preferred them a little more grown up before he changed them, but they are obviously past the uncontrollable age of the ‘immortal children’.

I’ve always interpreted this as Alec (and Jane) having been in early adolescence when changed. There’s no way they are as old as Edward was, and Jane being described as boy-like and androgynous suggests not a hell of a lot of development has gone on there.

Because I was writing for Beyond the Pale, my Alec in Fire, Blood, Truth was 12-13—though I never stated his age. When I tried submitting the fic to My Vamp Fiction, it was rejected stating they considered canon Alec to be even younger O.O

Generally I think Alec and Jane can be assumed to have between anywhere between 11 and 15 when changed, though I usually assume toward the younger end of the scale.

Gift

I don’t read much more into Alec’s gift than is given at face value in the books. He’s the antidote to Jane—and I used that literally when I wrote Fire, Blood, Truth—he takes away the senses. You can still move, as Edward explains in Breaking Dawn:

“If he uses his gift against us, we will all stand blind and deaf until they get around to killing us—maybe they’ll simply burn us without bothering to tear us apart first. Oh, we could try to fight, but we’ll be more likely to hurt one another than we would be to hurt one of them.”

but you can’t feel, see or hear. One thing I am unsure about is if any extrasensory stuff would be affected. Could Alice still have visions? Could Edward still hear thoughts? The thing is, we’ve never seen Alec’s gift used successfully in canon, so much of it is guesswork and interpretation.

Character

Alec doesn’t actually have a lot to say in any of the books. Poor lad has very little screen time. In fact, he gets spoken about more than he ever speaks. Consequently, we don’t actually know much about his personality or character. I like to think that Alec is the opposite of Jane, because frankly, she’s a raging bitch. I like to imagine Alec as I portrayed him in Fire, Blood, Truth—trying to fix the mess Jane made with her gift before they were changed. I like to think he is as playful as she is serious. I always write him as having redeeming qualities, and damn it, I just think he’s a cute kid—albeit one who has been alive for fifteen centuries.

I think the thing that fascinates me most about Alec is the dichotomy between his youthful appearance and his great age. He’s not a child, but he’s not an adult either. And something that gives me endless plot bunnies is the fact that neither he nor Jane are mated. Were they changed too young as Esme once feared for Edward? Surely if they were going to mate they would have done so in 1500 years?

I’ve based all my Alec research on what I’ve found in The Twilight Saga and what was on the Lexicon. I don’t own the Twilight Saga Guide (or whatever it’s called) and I’ve not read Bree Tanner.

Other vamp Alec fics I’ve written are The Way of Virtue, Worth the Wait, and Déjà Vu. Some others I’ve enjoyed are A Very Different Gift by giselle-lx, Numb by afragilelittlehuman, and Forbidden Love by upsidedownntwisted. I really wish there was more vamp Alec slash fic. If you know of one I don’t, please do rec me something!

Feel free to offer your own observations on Alec in the comments 😀

 
9 Comments

Posted by on September 19, 2011 in Character, Writing Vamp

 

Tags: , , ,

Writing Vamp: Don’t Forget the Little Guys

Side characters. Those obscure dudes we don’t really know much about. I adore stories that focus on these guys, and there’s not enough quality side character focused vampslash around.

This kind of fic can so easily be written canon, too. Who the hell can say what (or who) Felix was doing prior to the events of New Moon? Perhaps Marcus took a lover after he lost his mate (yeah, alright, he’s all depressed and shit, but who says he couldn’t use a little stress relief?). And I’d personally kill for some excellent Vladimir/Stefan fic 😉 Hell, Breaking Dawn alone is a wealth of interesting characters who got little to no action. That’s a whole bunch of untapped characters right there, to do with as you please 😉

Writing AU means you can bring a more established character in to pair up with your obscure fellow. I love me some Edward/Alec for example, but perhaps a little Jasper/Jenks is more your speed?

Of course, some of these side characters are better represented in fanfic than others. Peter for example, is quite popular. Try for someone you don’t see so much in fic, do something different, encourage your readers to let go of their comfortable ship and try something new.

I wanna see Nahuel slash. I wanna see Jared paired with a vampire. I wanna read more canon Alec!

Here’s a few fics with a side character standing up front:

In Betrayal by stitchcat, Alistair is one of the most monstrous serial killers in modern history.

Seraphim by duskwatcher2153 is an AU where Aro craves Carlisle’s purity and innocence.

In Wanderer: The Garrett Chronicles, Dellaterra explores pivotal political and cultural events with Garrett.

In The Big Top by Oh Jasper My Jasper, you get two side characters for the price of one in a James/Laurent AU.

Numb by afragilelittlehuman is an Edward/Alec Volturi fic (what, you think I wouldn’t squeeze my fave member of the Guard in here?). I find Alec—changed at such a young age, yet centuries old—a fascinating character.

Finally, with the only het pairing I can really stand, Dark Waters by Einfach Mich is a Leah/Edward where Leah is not a rabid bitch. I love Leah because she’s one of the few girls in the Saga who isn’t a simpering idiot (harsh, I know, but honestly…).

Who would you like to see more of? What great fic have you found that focuses on one of the little guys? Perhaps you’ve written one—tell us about it!

 
5 Comments

Posted by on May 24, 2011 in Writing Vamp

 

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