Oneshot-La Bella Muerte
She was beautiful. Not that she wasn't beautiful as a human. Far from it... but my sweet God, as a vampire, she stole a whole lot of breath that I no longer seemed to have. Her skin, as pale as mine, glistened...Her eyes, a deep crimson and shining with surprise. Of course she was starled, I mused to myself. She had just risen from three days that would make a weaker person lose their mind, three days of feeling as though her body was dipped in acid and consumed by fire, to a complete sensory overload. She stood, and my member hardened slightly as I got a look at those beautiful objects commonly accepted as legs. Oh Bella, my Bella...the things you do to me...
I gave a meaningful look at Jasper.
"She's slightly frightened...very thirsty, as to be expected...but not wild. How that's even possible that she isn't lunging at anything that moves is beyond me, but she is no threat at this time...and...hmmm...:" he answered in my head. I didn't have to be an empath to feel the waves of lust rising off of her, rolliing toward me. Her arousal, which I could smell from across the room, mixed with the scent of her skin, made an aphrodesiatic scent. I wanted to take her right there, and the only thing holding me back was my family was watching, and fucking her, or masturbating, whichever came first, would snowball into a very embarassing situation. Yes, shocking as it is, even the suave Edward Cullen fears humiliation.
I came forward, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, explaining details, at the same time satisfying my own selfish needs. Easy, Eddie boy, there will be time for that later...Her lips locked onto mine and I felt a thrill run through me. Our bodies molded together, and I discreetly pressed my engorged manhood against her. she moaned, and our pace increased. Fuck, she was going to make me take her...
I was snapped back to the present by a series of nervous coughs, and a few meaningful throat-clearings. Sweet mother of all that is holy, seeing her, knowing she would blush if she could...god, how I would miss that delicate pink. I stared at the floor, disentangling our array of arms and legs.
There was a term for her: La Belle Muerte. Or, in english, the beautiful death.