Tag Archives: NC-17

Review: The Whipping Boy by Fr333bird and beckybrit

The Whipping Boy by fr333bird and beckybrit

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. AU.

The Wipping Boy was written for the TwiKinkFest but it’s so much more than the kink it fulfils. It’s a surprising love story, borne out of despair and necessity, but nonetheless beautiful. The Whipping Boy takes place in an end-of-Breaking Dawn alternate universe where Bella was killed by the Volturi. The Volturi want Renesmee, but she is safely hidden away with Jake while Edward is on the run with Seth. Eventually the pair are captured by the Volturi and that’s when and where this story takes place.

Told in alternating points of view, The Whipping Boy shows the fresh hell that Edward and Seth are in while in captivity in the dungeons of Volterra. Upon capture, Marcus assesses the bond between Edward and Seth and uses it against them. The Volturi – Marcus, Jane and Demetri – try to get Edward to divulge Resnesmee’s location by whipping and beating Seth.

As the whip cuts through skin and muscle, Seth’s groans echo from the unforgiving stone that surrounds us. The sound of his pain is trapped within these ancient walls, deep in the bowels of Volterra.

I don’t want to watch, but I can’t look away. I feel that I owe it to Seth to witness what they’re doing to him.

I watch helplessly as Marcus brings the whip viciously down on Seth’s naked, shackled body. “Tell us where she is Edward, and I will stop torturing your pet.” His voice is cold and devoid of emotion.

I wouldn’t even call whipping the kink in this one, and maybe that’s the way the original prompter meant it. The kink in this, to me, is the healing, Seth’s pain, both physical and mental, and the gaping wounds of Edward’s loss. The pair find strength and reason in each other, need each other more than they could have anticipated.

I welcome the marks that I know he’s going to leave on my skin. They’ll fade soon enough, but not before erasing every other mark that’s come before them.

Fr333bird and beckybrit do a fantastic job with the imagery and emotion in this story. I can see the unforgiving stone walls of Volterra, Seth’s wrists, raw from the shackles, blood running down his back as he is being tortured. I can feel Edward being torn apart with guilt and loss and longing. But more importantly, the safety and peace they find with each other is obvious.

This was a great story, and I thank whoever left the prompt at the KinkFest for dropping this little nugget of a plot bunny into the brains of these two authors.

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Posted by on February 27, 2012 in Pack Slash, Reviews


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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
 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
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!
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Posted by on December 5, 2011 in Fandom Events


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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: 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: Scent and a Sound

Author: sapphirescribe
Pairing/MC: Riley/?
Genre(s): AU, human, vamp, wolf, slash
Wordcount: ~6000
Prompt/recipient: Inspired by prompt 12
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Blood. Slash. Smut. Though, really, if you have to be “warned” about any of those things, what are you doing here?
Summary: Riley has a stalker.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned this shit.

Scent and a Sound

The notes started out innocuously enough. The first appeared under the windshield wiper of his car after his first Psychology of Crime class.

You’re cute.

He figured it was just someone being nice, or silly, or trying to commit a random act of kindness. He smiled to himself after seeing no one else around and then put it on the windshield of the car next to him, thinking someone else might be able to use a pick-me-up.

With a little extra spring in his step, Riley drove to work. This was one of his longer days – three classes and then a full shift and closing the bar. The money was good, though, and despite the fact that the frat boy clientele could be irritating at times, they were at least excellent eye candy. Riley groaned when he realized that it was Open Mic Night so he’d have to deal with a lot of sub-par entertainment.

By 10pm the bar was packed. Mostly frat boy types, as Riley had expected, though the skanks were out in full force as well. He would never understand women and their ‘fashion’ choices.

By midnight, Riley was exhausted and sick of girls hitting on him and boys getting angry when he didn’t serve them fast enough. Telling girls he was gay rarely even lessened their interest. It mostly made them giggle and ask if they could watch.

“Interesting double standard, isn’t it?” came a voice after the latest group of tittering girls had moved away from the bar. The sound of it was unlike anything Riley had ever heard, even over the racket on stage of someone butchering one of his favorite songs. The voice seemed to penetrate right to his heart, making it start and stutter.

Riley finally turned to see the owner of the voice: a beautiful man, dressed in a form-fitting shirt and casually ripped jeans stood at the end of the bar. He was not Riley’s type at all, but Riley couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He was tall, well over six feet, and muscular. He looked like he could tear Riley in half if he wanted to, but there was a gentleness in his eyes that he trusted immediately.

“Huh?” he finally said when he realized the man was waiting for him to speak.

“They want to watch you with another guy, but if anyone asked to watch them have sex with another woman, they’d rip his balls off. Double standard.”

“Oh, yeah,” Riley agreed.

“So…” the man started, “can I get a beer?”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Sorry. What’ll it be?” Riley couldn’t believe he forgot himself so quickly. Every thought in his head had fled the moment he laid eyes on the walking sex at his bar.

“I’m Emmett,” the man said when Riley handed him the beer. Riley wiped the bar grime off his hand and extended it for a handshake.

“Riley,” he said, and took Emmett’s hand. “Shit, is it cold outside? You’re freezing.”


The few hours he spent talking with Emmett kept Riley in high spirits for the rest of the week. He couldn’t remember a time where he had so easily conversed with someone, or when he had last laughed so genuinely.

The arrival of another note on his car windshield (I love your smile)only served to underscore his happiness. They were purely complimentary. Since they were unsigned, he figured he had just picked up a secret admirer who was too shy to talk to him.


A week after their first meeting, Emmett showed up at the bar again. This time he was dressed like he had just left the gym and Riley had a hard time tearing his mind away from the thought of Emmett’s muscles rippling with the effort of lifting weights. He looked luminescent somehow, even in the dim lighting of the bar.

His hand was noticeably cold again, but Riley didn’t think much of it because he was caught up in their handshake which was a little longer and perhaps more tender than it had been the previous week.

The bar was slightly less busy than the previous week and it allowed them to talk with fewer interruptions. Riley again found himself inexplicably drawn to Emmett. He had a gentleness that was surprising for his sheer size, but he also had a hint of a bad-boy vibe underneath it all.

Riley watched him from across the bar as he served another patron. Emmett was watching the band play and chuckling at their ridiculous, parody lyrics.

His whole face brightened when he smiled. Riley was mesmerized when Emmett picked up his beer and took a drink. Riley could have sworn time stopped and Emmett moved in slow motion: his lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle, and Riley could see a hint of tongue where his lips parted. Emmett even swallowed sensually, and the action evoked images of Emmett swallowing around him that Riley couldn’t suppress. He licked a droplet of beer off his lip and swallowed again before putting the bottle down. Riley realized he licked his lips, mimicking Emmett’s movements, only to glance up and see Emmett watching him.

He’d been caught.

He felt his face heat with a terrible blush, but didn’t break eye contact. Emmett knew he was gay but hadn’t made any reference to his own sexuality. But this was practically an invitation and Riley wasn’t going to be the first to look away if he could help it.

Unfortunately, at that moment a group came in and crowded the bar demanding to be served. By the time they were all satisfied and Riley could break away, Emmett was gone.


Another week passed, this time with three notes. The only thing that kept Riley from freaking out entirely was that they only showed up on days he was on campus, and they were still pretty tame. The last one did make him a little nervous since it complimented his outfit that very day and was far more sexual than the others:

You look absolutely fuckable in those jeans.

As he did any day a note showed up, he scanned the parking lot to see if he saw anything suspicious. But just like every time before, nothing caught his eye.

He pushed the note to the back of his mind with thoughts of Emmett. If they were establishing a pattern, and God, how he hoped they were, Emmett would be at the bar that night. Riley resolved to ask Emmett for his number. There was nothing he hated more than not knowing, and not knowing whether Emmett would show up was burning him up with anticipation.


Riley practically skipped home that night, Emmett’s number burning a hole in his pocket.

It wasn’t until he was halfway home that he saw the note pinned under his windshield wipers, flapping in the wind.


The next day, Riley was thrilled to learn that Emmett wasn’t into playing games like so many men he had met. They exchanged texts throughout the day and when they hung up the phone past one a.m., Riley knew he was falling.

Emmett seemed to be everything he had been looking for. Funny as hell, but never at the expense of others, smart, well-read, not to mention gorgeous. But more than that, he made Riley feel safe, even when they were apart. And in the quiet darkness of his room – alone– that night, Riley might have admitted to himself that Emmett made him feel special. Loved.


A few days later, Emmett met Riley at the bar again. They had yet to go on a proper date, but they were talking and texting every day. Emmett even came to the bar every time Riley worked. It wasn’t an ideal situation but Riley wasn’t quite ready to push for more.

That night, though, Emmett was acting strange. Out of the corner of his eye, Riley thought he saw Emmett sniffing the air around him. A surreptitious sniff under his arm when he reached under the bar assured him that his earlier shower had served its purpose, but he was still self-conscious.

“My little sister loves Halloween. She’s going as a mailbox this year. It’s silly, but totally adorable.” Riley knew he was rambling but he couldn’t help it. The awkward silences were killing him. “My mom cut a head and arm holes in a big box and then a slot through the front for mail. They’re putting a pillow case on the inside so people can put the candy through the slot and it goes right into her bag. She comes up with the weirdest–”

“What is that?” Emmett interrupted.

“It’s nothing,” said Riley, grabbing the parchment stuck under his wipers in its now-usual spot and crumpling it up without reading it.

“It doesn’t look like nothing. Let me see.”

Against his better judgment, Riley handed the note over.

“Don’t let any drunk frat boys touch you tonight.” Emmett read aloud.

Riley toed the ground, unable to make eye contact. This one was in line with the increased creepiness of the latest notes, but he hadn’t told anyone about the notes so far and certainly hadn’t planned on telling Emmett.

“That’s weird.”


He chanced a look up. The look on Emmett’s face was indescribable. He looked concerned, yes, but there lurked a hint of that darkness Riley had seen early on as well.



“This isn’t the first of these that you’ve gotten, is it?”

“Not exactly.”

“How many?”

“Seven,” he whispered.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Emmett shouted.

Emmett’s anger was surprising. But Riley was more surprised about his own anger in response.

“What was I supposed to have told you? ‘I’m getting notes from someone?’ Big deal! They’re just notes, they’re completely harmless. And what could you possibly have done?”

“It’s not completely harmless. Do you even know who these are from? What kind of–” Emmett closed his eyes and crushed the note in his fist. He took a deep breath and when he spoke again it was with an eerie calm. “It’s not harmless. You don’t know who is sending you these things. How does he even know where you work?”


Riley couldn’t stop thinking about the notes that night. There had been seven over the course of fourteen days. Except for the days he didn’t go to campus, that meant there was one almost every day. That seemed like a lot of dedication for a secret admirer, and a lot of opportunities for that person to get caught. The fact that Riley had never seen anyone near his car meant the person probably knew when he would be around, and therefore knew his class schedule.

That information was private. Not just anyone should be able to get that information from the Registrar’s office, so unless they got his schedule by illicit means, that meant they were watching him.

Riley practically slammed on the breaks when he got to his parking lot. His heart was pounding and his breath came in great gasps.

Someone was watching him.

How had he not realized it before? This wasn’t just a silly game anymore, no matter what the note-giver’s intent. His hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough to make his knuckles white. He didn’t think he should go to the police. What would they even do?


Riley stayed in on Halloween. Handing out candy to the few kids who trick-or-treated through the neighborhood was always preferable to going out to a party where everyone got drunk and stupid. For about an hour there was a steady stream of kids at his door, sometimes with their parents. But by eight o’clock that night, it was dark and quiet.

“I’ll be at my folks’ house in Forks tonight, but call me if…” he hesitated, “if you want.”

“Thanks, Em. I will. But I’ll be fine.”

Riley knew what Emmett wasn’t saying, though: “Call me if anything weird happens and your stalker shows up,” was what he really meant.

Riley had been especially freaked out by the latest note – You smell perfect. – which showed up on his car while he was shopping for last-minute Halloween treats that morning.

But Emmett’s reaction had nothing on Riley’s. He was furious.

“I don’t like it Ri. He’s getting too close to you. That foul do- if he lays so much as a finger on you, I’ll tear him limb from limb.”

“Em, it’s fine. I’m not worried.”

Emmett shot him a disbelieving look.

“Okay, fine. I’m a little freaked out. But this guy doesn’t know where I live or anything. I’ll be fine.”

“I still don’t like it. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Emmett’s usually booming voice grew quiet. “I just found you.”

The words filled Riley with such warmth, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. It was easy to forget his fear and Emmett’s ferocity when Emmett leaned down to kiss him.

Their lips met in a soft kiss, sweetness hiding the anger and fear Riley knew were boiling just under the larger man’s skin.

He found it odd that he should be comforting his much larger and stronger … Emmett, but he liked it. Emmett’s lips were firm but soft, and they tasted salty and faintly of rust when Riley flicked his tongue out to taste him.

The kiss ended far too quickly for Riley’s taste, but he couldn’t complain. It left the taste of Emmett on his lips for hours to come, even after Em had left to visit his family.


Rain lashed the windows. The wind howled. The city hadn’t seen a storm like it in ages. It was darker than normal for that time of night. Tree branches scraped the side of the building like nails on a chalk board.

A pounding on the front door made Riley jump. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he couldn’t suppress a shiver. He blamed the storm and the movie for his nerves, but still he felt something in the air that wasn’t quite right.

Emmett had told Riley to call him any time, but Riley felt silly doing so now. Nothing was really wrong and he didn’t want to make Emmett think he couldn’t handle himself. He had never been afraid to answer his door before.

But when he got to the door, he realized there was nothing to answer, and no power on this earth could have made him open the door at that moment.

A very familiar piece of parchment sat on the floor, half squeezed under his front door.

With trembling hands, he unfolded the note.

Don’t trust him.

He’s not what he says he is.

You’re not safe with him.

I can protect you.

Riley paused for only a fraction of a second before sprinting to his phone and calling Emmett. His so-called “Secret Admirer” knew where he lived. What was more, he was likely still out there lurking.

“I’m on my way, Ri,” Emmett answered the phone without preamble.

“How did you–”

“Alice sa– I mean, she had a bad feeling. I didn’t like not being there with you. What happened?”

“He slipped a note under my door.”

“What?” Emmett bellowed.

Had Riley not been so distracted by the note still clutched in his hand and the relief that Emmett was on his way, he would have been confused and distracted by the sound of rushing wind and faster-than-human footfalls on the other end of the line.

“I’m on my way. I should be there in about thirty. What did it say?”

It was only then, when Riley read the note aloud to Emmett that he understood the implication. His stalker – Riley no longer thought of him as an admirer – was warning him about Em.

Don’t trust Emmett.

Emmett isn’t what he says he is.

You’re not safe with Emmett.

And in the next moment, he knew that his stalker was at least right about one thing. Something was different about Emmett. His cold skin, his immovable lips, his eyes, his unbelievable strength.

“What does he mean, Emmett?”

“Jesus, Riley, please. You can trust me and I swear to God that you are safe with me. Please don’t doubt that. I swear I’ll explain everything when I see you. Just believe that.”

And he did. Emmett had never given him so much as a hint of a reason not to trust him, or to doubt or fear for his safety. Whatever Emmett was, he wasn’t a danger to Riley.

“I do,” Riley whispered.

“Oh, Thank God,” Emmett breathed. “Go double check your locks, Ri. And don’t let anyone in but me. Stay on the phone with me until I get there.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”

Barely a step before Riley reached the door there was a knock.

“Who is it?” Emmett asked in his ear.

Riley took a deep breath before looking out his peep hole, and then let it out in a long, relieved breath.

“Fuck. It’s just Paul, he’s in my Psych class. Hang on.”

Riley took the phone away from his ear to use both hands to undo the locks and open the door.

“Is that him?” Paul asked, indicating the phone in Riley’s hand.


“The one you’ve been ignoring me for.”

“What are you talking about, Paul?”

“He’s not safe for you, not good for you. Have you figured out what he is yet?”

Riley brought the phone back to his ear.

“Riley,” Emmett pleaded, “Riley, don’t listen to him. Please trust me.”

“You heard him?” Riley asked.

“You haven’t figured it out then? Let me help you. He’s a vampire,” Paul said with a growl. “He’s a disgusting, murdering, blood-sucking vampire. Only I can protect you from him.”

“I don’t need protection from him,” Riley responded. He hated the fear in his voice, but he didn’t know what to think.

“That’s right, Ri. I’ll keep you safe, I promise. Just hold on,” Em said in his ear.

With lightning quick speed, Paul snatched the phone from Riley’s hand.

“You won’t get here in time,” he snarled into the phone. Paul stared directly into Riley’s eyes as he spoke to Emmett. “You can’t have him. I’m going to take him away where you’ll never be able to find him and harm him. He’ll be safe with me.”

Before either of them could react, Paul flipped the phone backwards and broke it in half.

He looked up at Riley with an unquestionably predatory look in his eye.

“I don’t like how you’ve been ignoring me, Riley. But that’s okay. There’s plenty of time for you to make it up to me.”

He stepped closer to Riley with each breath, and Riley backed away with every step until he found his back to the corner of his kitchen cabinets.

Paul stalked slowly closer until his chest was but a hair’s breadth from Riley’s. He took a deep breath and Riley watched in disgust as Paul’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“You smell fucking fantastic, except I can smell that leech all over you. I can replace his scent with my own easily enough.”

“Why are you doing this, Paul? I don’t understand.”

“You’re mine, what’s why.” Paul grabbed Riley’s upper arms and shook him. “I won’t share you with him. Don’t ask me to.”

Like Riley would suggest that. But he knew he had to keep Paul talking. The longer he talked, the closer Emmett came.

“Of course not. I would never ask you to share me with Emmett.” Because you’re a fucking psycho and I only want him.

“Good. Let’s go before the leech gets here.”

Grabbing Riley’s wrist, Paul dragged him towards the door. He was ridiculously strong. Perhaps as strong as Emmett.

“Wait,” Riley shouted, panicked. He couldn’t let Paul drag him out that door.

“There’s no time to wait,” Paul shouted.

“Please, I still don’t understand,” Riley fought back blind panic and the lump that was forming in his throat. “Please help me understand. Why me? Why like this?”

Paul looked almost confused for a minute, as if the answer was obvious and he shouldn’t have to explain. His expression softened inexplicably. He raised a hand and stroked Riley’s cheek tenderly.

“You’re my imprint. You’re my mate. We were made for each other. I was going to let you know properly, then the blood-sucker leeched onto you and I had to change my plans. I’ll have all the time in the world to fix what he’s done to you, but you have to come with me.”

Something of Riley’s fear must have shown on his face, because Paul pulled him in for a tight hug. “Shhh, it’ll be okay, baby,” Paul whispered. “I’ll make everything okay.”

He pulled back then and took Riley’s face in his hands. He stared into Riley’s eyes and whispered words that Riley was sure were supposed to be comforting. “I’ll take you away from here and never let him hurt you, okay? I love you, baby.”

When Paul’s lips met his, Riley thought he might vomit. Paul opened his mouth slightly and lapped at Riley’s bottom lip, which was tightly pressed against his upper. Paul moaned in pleasure, getting lost in the one-sided kiss, then grabbed Riley’s hips and pulled Riley close. Riley acted on instinct when he felt the hard pressure of Paul’s erection pressing against him. In a flash he grabbed Paul’s shoulders and hoisted his knee as hard as possible into Paul’s groin.

Paul backed away with a look of shock and pain on his face and doubled over, falling against the front door and sliding onto the floor, clutching his crotch and moaning.

Riley ran. He didn’t know where he was going or what he was going to do, he just wanted to get away from the man at his door. There was no back door to his apartment, though, so he aimed for his bedroom window which let out to the alley behind his building.

He had the window open and one leg out when he was wrenched back into his bedroom and thrown onto his bed. Paul was standing over him, face painted with rage.

“What the fuck was that, Riley? Why would you hurt me like that? He’s poisoned you against me, hasn’t he. It’s all his fault. Once I get you to safety, I’ll take care of him. I’ll fucking kill him for making you do this to me.”

“No, please,” Riley begged. “He has nothing to do with this. I was scared. You scared me Paul, that’s all.” Riley shuffled backwards on the bed, distancing himself as much as possible from the man in his bedroom.

The air around Paul seemed to shake and shiver. It was as if his anger was making the molecules surrounding him quake in fear. His whole body trembled with barely-contained rage.

“I can’t trust you not to run from me,” Paul said as he reached into his pocket and pulled something out that glinted in the moonlight. In the next second he lunged forward and grabbed one of Riley’s wrists. Only when the cold steel clicked shut around his wrist did Riley realize what it was.


When Paul reached for his other hand, Riley started thrashing. He kicked and shouted and punched at Paul as hard as he could. He knew if Paul got the other cuff on his wrist that all hope was lost. He landed a knee in Paul’s stomach that knocked the wind out of him and Riley started to scramble away.

An almighty crash from somewhere in the apartment startled Riley. In the split second that he paused, Paul grabbed his arms and slipped the cuff around the wooden slats in Riley’s headboard, effectively chaining him to his bed.

Along with the next flash of lightning, Emmett appeared. Riley’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He looked wild and feral, his hair windswept, his eyes black as night.

“Get the fuck away from him, Paul,” he snarled.

“You’re just asking for trouble, aren’t you, leech? Don’t we look good together?” he taunted, lifting up Riley’s head by his hair and bringing it close to his own.

“Please,” Riley whimpered, begging for Emmett to do something, help him somehow.

“Shh, baby. Don’t you worry,” Paul coddled him, thinking Riley was addressing him. “I’ll take care of him for you,” and then his mouth was on Riley’s once again, but Riley was too surprised to close his mouth this time. Paul’s tongue plunged inside, taking, tasting, invading.

Without a thought, Riley kicked his legs out and bit down on Paul’s tongue at the same time, just before he was wrenched away and sent flying across the room.

Emmett was on him in a second. “You don’t touch him,” he spat. Paul growled in response – a deep, reverberating growl that seemed to shake the apartment.

“Riley, get down,” Emmett shouted.

Still cuffed to the bed, Riley was only able to curl into the fetal position and squeeze his eyes shut in response.

Snarling, ripping, growling sounds rent the air. Riley was terrified of what he would see if he opened his eyes, so he folded in tighter upon himself. His whole body pulled tight to the headboard where he was shackled.

Riley’s eyes shot open when he heard Emmett shout in pain. A massive, silver-furred creature the size of a bear had its teeth clamped around Emmett’s forearm. With his other arm, Emmett swung at the beast, hitting it with an uppercut straight to the throat.

The creature wheezed and whimpered, letting go of Emmett.

Emmett seemed not to notice the gashes in his arm as he grabbed the beast – Paul, Riley realized – by the neck and threw it bodily from the room.

Riley was simultaneously relieved and terrified that he could no longer see what was going on. All he heard was snarling and snapping, crashes of breaking furniture and animalistic grunts and growls. He couldn’t tell who was winning and the thought that it might be Paul had him yanking on the handcuffs that were cutting into his wrists.

Riley managed to turn himself around with his feet against the headboard on the slats surrounding the one to which he was chained. As he pulled and pushed and struggled, he felt the cold steel slicing through delicate skin and saw the blood start to trickle down his forearm. It dripped in fat, red droplets onto his pillows, but still Riley pulled. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn’t free himself.

By the time he realized he no longer heard crashing and fighting, he was past the point of fear and frustration. His face was soaked with tears and all he wanted was for Emmett to come back. He didn’t see how that was possible, though. There was no way Emmett could have defeated that huge dog. And so Riley was defeated as well.

That thought drained him of all energy.

He stopped pulling at the cuffs and curled himself into the smallest ball possible and just tried not to sob.

A sound at his bedroom door broke into his despair.


He looked up.

“Oh God. Emmett.” The words came out as a coked sob. This time the tears that cascaded down Riley’s face were of pure relief.

Emmett was at the side of his bed in a flash. He reached his hands out as if to touch Riley, but stopped himself. He was shaking, his whole body tense. Riley could feel the tension radiating from his every pore.

In the next second, Emmett was on the bed and hovering over Riley, restraint all but forgotten. Riley barely felt it happen, but Emmett had uncoiled him and was straddling his hips. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once. Tiny, barely-there touches of reassurance on his face, neck, chest, arms, and face again.

Emmett grabbed Riley around the shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. He whispered something into Riley’s neck too low for Riley to hear, and then, “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Me too, Em,” was all he could say. But his brain was screaming. I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hurt you. I know it’s too soon, but I need you.

Then Emmett’s mouth was on his and Riley had never experienced a kiss so full of emotion. Emmett’s hands still roamed Riley’s body but when he tried to do the same, the handcuffs just rattled against the headboard.

Emmett broke their kiss just before Riley grew too short of breath. He was still shaking. Still stretched too thin and tight as a wire. Once again Riley found himself in the position of comforting the much larger, far more indestructible man.

“It’s okay, Em. I’m okay,” he whispered.

When Emmett finally looked him in the eye, Riley was startled by the naked emotion he saw there.

“I need you.”

“Me too. Always.”

Riley gasped when Emmett brought his hips down to actually touch his own. Emmett was hard as steel. Riley’s whole body shuddered with pleasurable anticipation and he rolled his hips up into Emmett’s, quickly growing hard himself.

Slightly more controlled, Emmett placed his hands on Riley’s hips and slowly moved them up Riley’s abdomen, pushing his shirt up in the process. When Emmett pulled away and tore the shirt from Riley’s body, Riley found he missed – craved– the sensation of Emmett’s cold hands on his skin.

Paul’s touch had been all wrong – too hot, clammy, fever-inducing. Emmett’s was soothing, refreshing, wonderful.

“Touch me, Em,” Riley moaned.

Emmett’s hand came back to Riley’s neck. He held Riley’s face in his cool hands and kissed him again. His hands and mouth began a journey of exploration and continued reassurance down Riley’s body. He kissed and licked at Riley’s neck, his lips lingering on Riley’s pulse point. Then his mouth moved to the pale clavicle and shoulders underneath him. Riley hummed in pleasure as Emmett took each nipple into his mouth in turn, and found himself undulating his hips with every movement.

Emmett’s hands roamed Riley’s chest as he kissed down his flat stomach and the light trail of hair leading south. His fingers fumbled for a moment at Riley’s belt, but soon enough it was off and Emmett just tore Riley’s pants and boxers clean off.


Emmett inhaled deep, breathing in Riley’s very essence. He started with long, slow licks from the base of his shaft that led to sloppy kisses around the sensitive head. Emmett bathed Riley’s balls with his tongue and then swallowed around the head of his dick as he sucked it deep into the back of his throat.

Riley swore and panted, unable to control his body or the sensations that Emmett was pulling from him.

Twice he almost came before Emmett pulled back.

Emmett cupped his balls in one hand and swallowed around his cock again as his other hand slid its way up Riley’s body.

When Emmett’s hand reached Riley’s face, he took two of Emmett’s fingers into his mouth and subjected them to the same treatment his dick was experiencing.

He swirled his tongue around Emmett’s fingers and Emmett did the same to his cock. He took Emmett’s fingers and deep into his mouth as possible, and again Emmett mimicked the motion on Riley. When Riley’s teeth graced the underside of Emmett’s fingers on one enthusiastic suck, Riley could have sworn he felt the ghost of razor sharp teeth graze his sensitive flesh.

It raised goosebumps all over his body and he came with a shout before either of them had any warning. His body shuddered and starbursts of light flashed behind his eyelids. Emmett’s mouth never left his cock.

A moment later Riley could taste himself in Emmett’s mouth as Em kissed him. The mixture of his salty with Emmett’s sweet was intoxicating.

When he felt Emmett’s saliva-soaked fingers pressing against his ass, Riley moaned. When both of Emmett’s fingers entered him, he cried out in sweet relief.

“He wasn’t lying, you know.”

Riley paused at the strange non-sequitor.

“Paul. He wasn’t lying about me. What I am…”

Emmett’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I don’t care,” Riley answered. It was the truth. “I know you won’t hurt me. I don’t care if you’re a vampire.” The word felt foreign on Riley’s tongue, but that didn’t negate the truth of the statement.

Emmett murmured something once again too low for Riley to hear, but then his lips were on Riley’s again and his fingers were moving inside of him once more.

“I need you,” he said into Riley’s mouth.

“Please,” Riley begged.

Then Riley felt the pressure of Emmett’s cock at his entrance. Had he been slightly more coherent, he would’ve wondered when Emmett removed his clothing. As it was, he was consumed with the thought of Emmett being inside of him.

He cried out when the head of Emmett’s cock was finally inside him. The usual burn was numbed by Emmett’s natural temperature, so all he felt was unadulterated pleasure.

“Wait,” Riley shouted just as Emmett started to thrust. “I need to touch you, Em.” Riley rattled the cuffs still chaining him to the headboard. “Help me.”

For a moment Emmett looked torn. His eyes were pitch black and they followed a fresh droplet of blood as it trailed from Riley’s wrist down to his elbow.

He looked at Riley again and Riley saw the fear in his eyes.

“Take it,” he whispered. “You won’t hurt me.”

Slowly Emmett reached up to the cuffs and effortlessly broke them apart. Riley flinched at the tightness in his shoulders as he brought his hands down in front of him.

Emmett hovered above him, holding on to the headboard and taking shallow breaths. Riley rested one hand on Emmett’s immaculate chest and reached up to Emmet’s face with the other. He flinched when Riley touched him and then grabbed Riley’s arm tightly with both hands.

Emmett turned his face until Riley’s still-bleeding wrist was at his mouth. Just as Emmett’s tongue licked at the wound, he began thrusting again.

Emmett practically wrapped his mouth around Riley’s wrist and licked and sucked at the wound. He turned Riley’s arm this way and that, licking and kissing the torn flesh of Riley’s tender wrists.

Riley couldn’t think and could barely move. He was so awash with pleasure at the feeling of Emmett’s icy tongue healing his wounds and Emmett’s icy cock still moving inside him.

Soon Emmett switched to Riley’s other wrist. Riley used his good hand to pull Emmett closer.

“You’re too far away,” he panted. “Never stop touching me.”

Riley watched up close this time as Emmett’s tongue crept out and tended to his wounded skin. He watched as Emmett’s lips closed around sections of his wrist and felt the skin knit together. When there was only a tiny section of his wrist left open, Emmett looked Riley in the eye.

Riley nodded.

Emmett’s eyes closed and his mouth descended to Riley’s wrist once more. Riley watched as Emmett drank from him. Emmett’s throat constricted with the motion and Riley felt his chest rumble in an unmistakable purr.

When the realization of what he was doing – letting a vampire drink his blood, letting a vampire fuck him – washed over Riley, he was momentarily overcome.

But then Emmett closed the wound on his wrist and looked into Riley’s eyes, and it was still just Emmett. And Riley knew he was safe.

Emmett brought his lips back to Riley’s and they shared another kiss, this one more deep and meaningful than any before.

Emmett changed the angle of his hips and within a few thrusts, Riley was crying out in pleasure.

The tightening of Riley’s body around his own was enough to set Emmett off. The sensation of Emmett’s cold release inside Riley made him shiver, but he knew he would never want anything different again.


“What was he, Em?”

“Don’t worry about it, Ri. He’s gone now. I’ll answer all your questions in the morning. You’re safe. Just sleep.”

“You’ll stay?” Riley asked, gripping Emmett even tighter and snuggling closer.

“Always,” Emmett whispered.


Posted by on October 31, 2011 in Halloween Fest


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