(no subject)
Just a tiny fic I wrote in hopes it'lll make Carla feel better ...
The Departure
Bouncy blond hair curled with satiny brown. Pale skin met with tanned skin, both flushed and wet. She took one lick, then another, down Star’s stomach to places known and quite beautiful. Star arched her back, giving a slight whimper, a despite plea for more. Rosalie complied, the two connecting and reconnecting, reaching limits unheard of but there, oh, so there just within reach. “Baby,” whispered Star, afterwards stroking Rosalie’s cheek. “Want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Rosalie answered. “I just need to get away from it all. There’s too much death in the air.”
“I know,” Star said. “I know.”
Emmett’s appearance startled the both of them. He looked horrible, eyes red-rimmed and empty. His compact shoulders slumped and mouth set in a firm line. “Come here,” He said, reaching out to the both of them. Each folded against his sides, Star to the back and Rosalie against his barrel chest. The girls sought and gave comfort, each kissing Emmett’s scarred bare skin and trailing fingers up and down until with a muffled cry, Emmett dug deeper into their embraces.
The three laid there, soaking up the warmth of bodies fastened together and the drive to be reassured.
“We need to talk,” Star finally spoke up and with a quickness that shocked both Rosalie and Emmett said “Bite me. Make me like you.”
“What?” Rosalie asked; her voice shaky. Star folded herself up, looking down at the two people that had banded together with her in order to deal with the deaths of their loved ones. Rosalie blinked a lot, keeping tears at bay while Emmett grew sullen. “You can’t be serious.”
"I am. I want the three of us to be together. I won’t survive if the two of you left Santa Carla. You’re all that I have now.” Star trembled, knowing what she asked was not easy to accomplish. First, there was the suddenness of it all and next, the pain.
Star welcomed pain, anything to feel something, to experience the sting of hot instead of the icy cold that had been settling in her heart for a month now, since Michael’s death. “Please.”
Star would beg. Kneel down. Stoop to altitudes where there was no place but up and higher, she would swallow a wooden bullet if they said no. Death would be her outcome. Death would be her choice.
Emmett finally spoke up. “I’ll do it.” Rosalie glanced over at her husband, seeking and found her answer.
There was a loud appeal to Rosalie, her golden eyes smoldering and she had a temper to match. She peered down at everyone including Emmett but if one were to be honest, Star loved it when Rosalie showed her dominant side. Both Emmett and Star pined for Rosalie’s show of superiority, the puff of self-importance, the turn of her cute nose up whenever Rosalie was out in public. Grief had dulled Rosalie’s spark but had yet to put it out entirely.
“We’ll do it,” Rosalie ordered, the tears fading. “We’ll both do it.”
Rosalie and Emmett took positions, Star waiting; her breaths coming in quick. They both bit down, Emmett on Star’s wrist and Rosalie on Star’s breast.
Agony ripped into Star, traveling up her body and down right to her toes. Saying it hurt would put it mildly. There was just so much riding into Star. Star screamed.
When Star woke, Rosalie was dressed, eyes crinkling mirthfully. “Ready?”
Star reached out her hand, taking Rosalie’s gloved ones, entwining fingers.
Emmett stood to the side, smiling for the first time since the fire that killed the entire Cullen family and the Lost Boys apart from Emmett and Rosalie and Star. “Shall we go?”
“Yes,” answered Star and the three, together, departed.
The Departure
Bouncy blond hair curled with satiny brown. Pale skin met with tanned skin, both flushed and wet. She took one lick, then another, down Star’s stomach to places known and quite beautiful. Star arched her back, giving a slight whimper, a despite plea for more. Rosalie complied, the two connecting and reconnecting, reaching limits unheard of but there, oh, so there just within reach. “Baby,” whispered Star, afterwards stroking Rosalie’s cheek. “Want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Rosalie answered. “I just need to get away from it all. There’s too much death in the air.”
“I know,” Star said. “I know.”
Emmett’s appearance startled the both of them. He looked horrible, eyes red-rimmed and empty. His compact shoulders slumped and mouth set in a firm line. “Come here,” He said, reaching out to the both of them. Each folded against his sides, Star to the back and Rosalie against his barrel chest. The girls sought and gave comfort, each kissing Emmett’s scarred bare skin and trailing fingers up and down until with a muffled cry, Emmett dug deeper into their embraces.
The three laid there, soaking up the warmth of bodies fastened together and the drive to be reassured.
“We need to talk,” Star finally spoke up and with a quickness that shocked both Rosalie and Emmett said “Bite me. Make me like you.”
“What?” Rosalie asked; her voice shaky. Star folded herself up, looking down at the two people that had banded together with her in order to deal with the deaths of their loved ones. Rosalie blinked a lot, keeping tears at bay while Emmett grew sullen. “You can’t be serious.”
"I am. I want the three of us to be together. I won’t survive if the two of you left Santa Carla. You’re all that I have now.” Star trembled, knowing what she asked was not easy to accomplish. First, there was the suddenness of it all and next, the pain.
Star welcomed pain, anything to feel something, to experience the sting of hot instead of the icy cold that had been settling in her heart for a month now, since Michael’s death. “Please.”
Star would beg. Kneel down. Stoop to altitudes where there was no place but up and higher, she would swallow a wooden bullet if they said no. Death would be her outcome. Death would be her choice.
Emmett finally spoke up. “I’ll do it.” Rosalie glanced over at her husband, seeking and found her answer.
There was a loud appeal to Rosalie, her golden eyes smoldering and she had a temper to match. She peered down at everyone including Emmett but if one were to be honest, Star loved it when Rosalie showed her dominant side. Both Emmett and Star pined for Rosalie’s show of superiority, the puff of self-importance, the turn of her cute nose up whenever Rosalie was out in public. Grief had dulled Rosalie’s spark but had yet to put it out entirely.
“We’ll do it,” Rosalie ordered, the tears fading. “We’ll both do it.”
Rosalie and Emmett took positions, Star waiting; her breaths coming in quick. They both bit down, Emmett on Star’s wrist and Rosalie on Star’s breast.
Agony ripped into Star, traveling up her body and down right to her toes. Saying it hurt would put it mildly. There was just so much riding into Star. Star screamed.
When Star woke, Rosalie was dressed, eyes crinkling mirthfully. “Ready?”
Star reached out her hand, taking Rosalie’s gloved ones, entwining fingers.
Emmett stood to the side, smiling for the first time since the fire that killed the entire Cullen family and the Lost Boys apart from Emmett and Rosalie and Star. “Shall we go?”
“Yes,” answered Star and the three, together, departed.