A/N: Thanks to Breath-of-Twilight for putting on the Halloween Collaboration. This one-shot is part of it. I hope you enjoy it and stay tuned for more!
Story Title: Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf
Disclaimer: Obviously, this is based on Twilight and Little Red Riding Hood. Loosely. I don't own either of them, I just make them do naughty things together. Here we go...
Hey you, reader! I'm taking part in the Fandom Gives Back auction. Go here to bid on me to write you somethin': http://thefandomgivesback(dot)proboards(dot)?board=fic&action=display&thread=23
The forest loomed dark and foreboding in front of her. Almost everything in her rejected the idea of entering between those tall evergreen spires and under the wet green canopy that blotted out most of the sunlight.
There was only one small part of her, the part that loved Esme, her friend, and did not want her to suffer in discomfort over her terrible flu, that was willing to enter the forest. She had a basket from her mother laden down with food and homemade remedies that would nurse her back to health, and she was to deliver it.
The fact that her friend lived in this dark forest had never bothered her before, but for some reason, it did today. It was as if she knew instinctively that something was different about today, some unseen threat to her safety or wellbeing.
On a normal day, the sun would be shining and the birds would chirp from their perch high up in the verdant canopy covering the mossy forest floor. Bella would enjoy her exploration of the dense greenery, finding flowers to weave together and spending time daydreaming next to one of the tinkling creeks that never failed to cheer her up. She loved the forest, as it was a place where her rich imagination could run away with her and she could imagine that her life was meant for something so much more.
She liked to go there to escape the men from town who had been pursuing her with more persistence than she would have thought possible since her eighteenth birthday. While her mother understood of Bella's reluctance to give her hand to any of these men, Bella could tell that she was worried about her only child. She'd been raising Bella on her own since Bella's father died in a work-related accident, and Bella knew it was very hard for her mother to keep food on the table for both of them.
Still, she simply could not bring herself to feel anything more than disinterest at the very best, or disgust at the very worst, for the men who would wed her and bed her.
She wanted to be bedded on her own terms, and she frankly could not see herself lying under a man from town. None of them knew anything about her, except what they could see with their own two eyes. Not one of them could be seen reading a book, or appreciating a piece of music that couldn't be sung at the top of their lungs while deep in their cups at the pub.
None of them set fire to her veins and made her yearn for the kind of passion that she only read about in her books.
Nobody in town knew Bella's secret taste in literature, with the exception of Esme. Bella had gone there one day to find something new and interesting to read, and though Esme had resisted at first, she'd finally given in and showed Bella to the back room where she kept the "inappropriate" books.
Now that Bella was eighteen, Esme would indulge her curiosity by ordering the erotic tales from other countries. She learned basic French, Italian, Portuguese, and Spanish from tutors in town so that she could enjoy a wider selection than was available to her strictly in English. She was by no means fluent in any of the languages, but she could read the books she wanted to, and if there was something she didn't understand, then she used her fertile imagination to fill in the blanks.
Bella considered Esme her closest friend, simply because she did not know anyone else in town who loved to read as much as she did. She saw Esme as her mentor, and even her secondary mother. She grew very close to her over time, and eventually, Esme revealed a secret that she had not shared with anyone else.
The day Esme revealed she had an illegitimate son from a man long deceased, Bella was shocked and amazed. The shop was quiet as a tomb, the curtains covered the windows against the dreary gray skies outside, and they sat cozily next to the fire with steaming mugs of tea. Bella had been talking about the latest book Esme obtained for her, and that was when Esme finally told her the story.
"Bella, do you know how I am able to get these books for you?" she asked.
Bella, surprised, shook her head. Esme smiled. "I'm a woman, Bella. The book suppliers would never consent to give me this sort of reading material if they knew. My son Edward has to get them for me."
Her eyes widened and her jaw went slack. "You have a son?" Against her will, Bella felt a little bit hurt that Esme had never shared this bit of information with her.
Esme's eyes became sad and she set her tea down on the small table between them. "I never told you, Bella, because nobody knows. He's my secret. Edward is different from the people of this town, and not only because he was born on the wrong side of the blanket, as they say."
Bella was a little bit scandalized by the idea of her warm, maternal friend having a child out of wedlock, but she did not reveal it. "How do you mean?" she asked, questioning how he was different.
She looked down at her lap. "I cannot talk about that, but suffice it to say, Edward does not mingle well with the townsfolk. He is better suited to traveling and though it is a lonely life, he seems content enough to do what he has always done for the past twenty years."
"I see," Bella said, though she did not truly see at all.
Esme looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Please do not lose faith in me, dear. I was close to thirty years old when I met Edward's father, and I no longer held out hope of marrying. I was lonely, Bella. I loved him, though I was not married to him, and I could never bring myself to regret having Edward in my life."
Bella nodded her head and reached out for Esme's hand. "I understand, I think. Even if I didn't, I would never lose faith in you, Esme. You are like a mother to me, and I respect and love you very much."
Esme's eyes shone with tears as she gripped Bella's hand. "I'm so glad you think so, my dear. I wish so much that I could introduce my Edward to you, but he is temperamental and he refuses to reveal himself to the town. I know his motive is to keep my reputation intact, but I am not so worried about that anymore."
Bella did not know what to say to comfort the older woman, so she simply sat and held her hand while they watched the fire crackle and snap in the fireplace.
So here Bella stood, staring into the forest that seemed to taunt her with its dimly lit pathways and unnatural quiet. She tried to forget the tales from town, the ones about the dangerous predator that stalked the men both while they hunted and on their farms in town.
Esme had assured her that she would be safe, but she simply could not push the words fighting against hers in her mind.
"Mike Newton said he was stalking a deer when outta nowhere, he were tackled to the ground an' there were somethin' snarlin' in his ear."
"Eric Yorkie found his rooster dead as a doornail on his front porch. Ain't no one around here who woulda done that."
"Ol' man Tyler's pub was broken into the other night. Said the mugs were smashed to bits and pieces!"
Bella tried to ignore the fact that each of these occurrences took place not long after each man had proposed to her. Perhaps it was merely coincidence, because she truly did not want the guilt on her soul of believing that it was because of her.
She shook those thoughts off finally and faced the forest with great trepidation. She stared down at the basket on her arm, which was getting heavier and heavier as she stood there frozen with indecision. She could turn around and go home, but who would take care of Esme? She was Bella's favorite person, aside from her mother, and she would feel horrible if she left Esme alone to suffer.
Finally, with great courage and shaking legs, Bella marched determinedly into the forest. Her eyes scanned constantly, looking for danger, but she spotted none. The dense foliage that usually enchanted her felt too dense today, and her nerves were raw by the time she reached the path that should have taken her directly to Esme's cottage situated deep in the woods.
However, a shift in light must have played tricks on her eyes, because suddenly the path looked different. She began to second-guess herself. She turned in circles, searching for the correct path, but she could not see it. Growing desperate now, she spun around, hoping to spot something she recognized.
Finally, she saw a flower bush that seemed familiar and she took off along the path, trying to calm her pounding heart. The light was changing, becoming darker and somehow sinister. The sky cracked and she heard thunder boom across the heavens. She shivered and hurried her steps, hoping to reach Esme's cottage before the inevitable downpour started.
She was deep in the forest by the time she realized this was the wrong path, yet again. She wanted to cry because her nerves were so frayed, but she didn't dare. The first drops of rain began to fall, and she knew she was lost. The canopy of trees would protect her somewhat from the rain, unless it became a torrential downpour, but at least her red cape protected her thin white dress from the cold air causing her to shiver.
This was a complete disaster, and she hated it. She hated that her forest refuge felt like a prison. She hated that she was stuck here, lost in a world she should have known as well as the back of her hand. She wanted to scream and shout, but she was afraid of what she would attract if she were to call for help.
She'd heard the stories; she knew what could be waiting for her out there. It was better not to risk it.
The rain began to pour down in sheets, and the trees were battered with it as the fat drops began to seep through her cape. She cursed under her breath and looked around for shelter, hoping against hope to find somewhere to keep herself dry.
Seeing nothing, she wandered a bit further down the path, even though she knew it wouldn't bring her closer to Esme's. She finally spotted an old copse of trees with a patch of dry ground beneath it. She looked around carefully once more, searching with tired eyes for the slightest threat to her safety, but saw nothing. She broke from the path and made her way to the dry ground.
The area under the trees was large and round and she found some moss, tearing it up to make a comfortable pallet to recline on. She had no intention of falling asleep, but if she was going to be lost in the rain for however long this storm would last, then she was determined to make the best of it. She quickly settled in and reached into the basket for her latest book of Portuguese love stories.
The man in this story was particularly fascinating, and Bella soon found herself entranced with the tale of unrequited love. How he pined for his lady, how she rejected him again and again, until finally, she gave in to his lust. The scenes described after her surrender were so delicious that Bella found herself blushing and fidgeting on her mossy bed.
The rain continued, but the sound began to soothe her instead of worry her. She was lost in her story, so consumed with the passion on the pages that she did not fear the forest any longer.
Eventually, she was lulled into a deep sleep under her protective trees. The book slipped from her hands and her eyes slid shut. Her long, dark hair fanned out behind her and her limbs went limp. She lost herself to the dark dreams that stole over her subconscious whenever she fell asleep.
The first howl was not enough to wake her; instead, it found its way into her dreams, incorporating it into a vivid vision of her surrounded by wolves. She shuddered in her sleep and tried to escape, making her limbs twitch.
She was jarred awake by the sudden feeling of someone or something watching her. She gasped, completely terrified, when she saw the man standing not ten feet away from her. His eyes were tawny and fierce, his reddish-brown hair disheveled, his strong jaw covered by scruff. His upper body was revealed to her, its strong lines enticing. He had a patch of chest hair that did not disgust her as she would have thought, but instead made her long to touch it to see if it was as soft as it appeared.
His lower half was covered by torn and dirty brown trousers, tied around the waist with a frayed rope. His feet were bare. His pale skin gleamed in what little light there was coming through the trees, as if he was absorbing all the spare light. It must have been twilight, because the night was not yet complete, and yet the sun no longer shone.
He must be absorbing the light of the first stars, she thought.
His eyes never left hers, and she found herself lost to his gaze as he began to circle around her, giving her width berth. The forest floor was silent under his stealthy feet, and she wondered how a man so large could stalk her so silently. The intelligent part of her brain screamed at her to escape, but the vast majority of her was frozen in fear.
He was dangerously beautiful, and she feared for herself, but she could not seem to animate her arms and legs. She could hear him breathing now, and she knew he was getting closer. She held her own breath, waiting to see if he would speak.
When he did speak, it shocked her; his voice was so rough and low that it sounded like a feral growl. She had to struggle to understand his words. "You are foolish to come here, into the forest."
Bella swallowed convulsively and remained silent, though she was visibly shaking now.
He stopped his circling in front of her, staring down at her with dangerous eyes. "Do you know what could happen to you here, Little Red?"
She stared at him dumbly, her brown eyes wide and terrified as he came closer. Finally, she shook her head as soon as she realized he expected an answer. His sharp teeth gleamed in a feral smile.
"Well, allow me to enlighten you, then," he rasped. "That idiotic deer hunter from town could have found you just now, unconscious and spread out like a feast." He knelt down in front of her, yet she remained fixed and frozen as she gaped at him helplessly. His dirty hand with the long, elegant fingers reached out and brushed her calf, pushing the skirt of her damp white dress up toward her knee. "He would see this milky white skin and he would convince himself that it was his for the taking."
The feel of his rough fingertips brushing over her skin caused a gust of longing to batter her insides. No one had ever touched her like this before, and though she was terrified, she also didn't want him to stop.
His hand continued pushing her dress up over her thighs. They quivered as his amber eyes stared down at them. "I know what you dream of, what you desire. I know what you ache for." She was on her side, her legs curved up into a relaxed fetal position, but with one push of his hand on her hip, she rolled onto her back. His sensuous lips twisted into another dangerous grin. "And I will give it to you."
Her heart froze in her chest. How did he know? How could he know?
Her questions when unanswered, however, because his body was coming closer now. He crept up and over her, his eyes boring into hers as she began to pant in a maddening mixture of trepidation and anticipation. With the dirt smudging his skin, she would have thought he would smell foul and sweaty, but he did not. He smelled elemental, spicy and dark, his musk teasing her senses and arousing her on an entirely new level.
He crawled over her, hovering as his eyes drifted down to her lips. He bore his weight on his left hand as his right came up and landed on the clasp on her red cape. He released it quickly and efficiently before moving to the row of small buttons running down the middle of her dress. The thin material was damp from the moisture in the air, and it clung to her breasts like a glove.
She felt the heat of his hand between her breasts, and she watched helplessly as he released each tiny button with deliberate care, building the anticipation in her belly. His muscles flexed as he hovered over her, and she found herself wanting to reach out and touch him. She lifted a tentative hand to his chest and combed her fingers over the soft hair there, watching his face for any warnings. She was ready to retreat at the first sign of displeasure, but his eyes only burned hotter as she touched him.
When he had the row of buttons undone to her waist, he slowly parted the fabric and it fell away to reveal her naked breasts. The tips were hard and puckered in the cool forest air, and his eyes began to burn like an inferno. Without meeting her eyes, he brushed his fingertips over her nipples, causing her to gasp. She'd never felt this way before, even after reading so many erotic tales from foreign lands.
His lips twisted in a dark delight as he continued to play with her nipples. Her breasts felt swollen and achy as she arched her back toward him, longing to experience the things she'd only read about.
Seeing her chance, she lifted her other hand and she explored his chest, shoulders, and upper arms with a ravenous need to touch him as he was touching her.
Then, slowly, he bent his head forward and took the tip he was teasing into his mouth. She whimpered in shock as his hot wet tongue massaged her stiff, sensitive flesh. It made her ache in undiscovered places.
She wondered dreamily if he would kiss her, because she desperately wanted him to. She buried her hands in his hair and tried to pull his head toward hers, but he resisted her feeble attempts and simply kept lapping at her breasts before moving lower, away from where she wanted him.
She tried to protest when he pushed her dress up further, until it was bunched around her waist, but the words faltered and died as his lips drifted across her hips and belly. She recalled the illustrations in one of her Italian books, and she knew what he was likely about to do next.
Bella wanted this; she knew she did. Any doubts or uncertainty had long dissipated from her mind, and she was prepared to welcome his advances.
Still, she was unprepared when his eyes gleamed in the dim light around her as he lowered himself between her legs. She wondered briefly if she would embarrass herself. His hot breath spread out against her naked flesh, and she shuddered pleasantly when it enticed her damp folds.
The first sweep of his tongue against her made her squeal in surprise. Its velvety texture brushed against her, again and again until she relaxed into the new sensation. "You taste like sugar," he rasped.
His rusty voice sent shivers down her spine as his hot mouth ignited her blood and set it to boiling. He found a magical place between her legs, and as he probed her with the tip of his tongue, she began to shake as something built up inside her.
The sensation was at once terrifying and exhilarating; she did not know what could happen with this immense feeling growing and unfurling in her.
Then she felt his fingers pushing against her, and there was an uncomfortable sense of violation as they entered her body. She cried out and felt the wonderful feeling begin to dissipate, but his tongue began to curl and speed up, and the feel of his fingers was suddenly welcome. She pushed against them, and he added another one, stretching her and making her feel full of him.
When the sensation was about to overtake her, he stopped. She cried out angrily, already feeling the profound loss of whatever it was that would have happened, but he only smirked in the darkness surrounding them and crawled back up over her, licking his lips lasciviously. "Patience, Little Red," he said.
She gripped his hair and tried to pull him down for a kiss, but he resisted at first. She felt his hands moving between them and she hoped that he was going to use them on her again, but he didn't. Instead, he pushed his pants off and when his hands returned, he held the frayed rope. She stared at it warily as he pulled her hands up over her head.
Her confusion only grew when he began speaking in Portuguese as he tied her wrists together, rather loosely but still snug enough to make her feel a bit trapped. She was beginning to grow apprehensive, but then his words began to click into place.
The words were familiar to her, as they were from the very book she had been reading before she fell asleep. In the story, the man earned the woman's surrender by tying her up and showing her pleasure like she'd never experienced before. Bella wondered how this man could read, let alone in Portuguese, when he so obviously seemed rough and uncultured.
The mystery remained after her realization, but her apprehension did not. She felt him looking at her and she raised her eyes to his. Whatever he wanted from her, he could take, for she knew somehow that he would give back just as much. He would not leave her bereft.
His naked hips pressed against hers, and she instinctively parted her thighs further to accommodate him. She had seen and read so many erotic tales now that she felt confident in what to expect. He reached down and guided himself toward her, and she tensed in anticipation.
Would it hurt? She heard from some of the newly married girls in town that it did. Would she bleed? She'd read that sometimes that happened.
Would he be gentle? She was conflicted.
His entrance into her body was announced with a dull pain and sensation of ultimate fullness. She felt stretched beyond her imagination and his thickness cause her to ache and throb. His flesh was so hot, and it was only with the help of the moisture from her body and his previous ministrations that she did not tear apart. She was sure she would have otherwise.
The man's hips met hers finally, and she bit back the whimper that longed to escape. She clenched her eyes against the pain and felt him deep within her, deeper than she would have thought a man could ever be in a woman.
His silence stretched across the expanse of the forest, and it seemed that not a creature was afoot to break the eerie stillness. She did not dare open her eyes to look up at him for fear that he would disappear. Slowly, she relaxed around him, reminding herself of all the wonderfully sensual stories that gave her hope for this encounter.
When she felt at ease with his presence inside her body, she peeked to see him staring down at her with his bright golden eyes. He was a study in patience and sensual delight with his relaxed face and hooded eyes.
He began to move against her, gently rocking at first. The minuscule thrusts teased and tempted her, and she was able to ignore the lingering pain brought from his breach of her maidenhead. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and finally, he bent his head low to brush his lips over hers. She responded eagerly, opening her mouth to him.
His response was immediate, and she shivered in delight; his lips molded against hers and his tongue swept out, teasing her as he had teased her nipples and her wet entrance. She tasted something sweet covering the essential flavor that hid beneath. She moaned and begged for more, longing for those drugging kisses that she'd read about time and again.
The man moved against her, going deeper and lengthening his thrusts. Her tender flesh took the abuse and while it hurt, there was also an edge of dark pleasure that excited her beyond all reason. She wanted him, wanted to give this to him, and damn the consequences. She wanted him to have her, as deeply and as profoundly as a man could have a woman.
Though as he continued to claim her body and soul, she began to wonder if he wasn't something more than a man after all. His growls were so feral and she'd never heard a man make that sound before. He gave her pleasure that went beyond her books, beyond her imagination, and into the realm of the impossible.
He wrapped one hand around her hip and one hand in her hair, bringing his mouth down on hers with a fierce possession that made her soul quake. She kissed him back just as passionately, wishing she could lay her claim on his soul just as much as he was branding hers.
His motions increased until she felt pounded against the mossy ground. His hips jerked against hers, and she felt that strange sensation building up inside of her once more. He pulled away from her, pulling back until he was kneeling between her legs, but he never left her body completely. He continued to thrust as his hands came down to where they were joined.
Bella could not watch. The sight of him between her legs was too much. She cried out when she felt his fingertips brushing against that magical spot between her thighs and cried out as the torrent of pleasure and intensity washed over her, breaking her and renewing her with its strength.
She cried as she came down, great sobs of what could only be release. She finally understood the thing that happened in all of her stupid little books; they did such a poor job of capturing the true essence of the experience.
As she came down, she felt his thrusts become erratic. She opened her eyes to look up at him, only to find him staring at her intensely. His mouth opened and he bared his teeth, letting loose a howl that ran like a shock through her system. He spilled himself in her and she shuddered, feeling his release.
She heard another howl far off in the distance and she reached up to cling to his shoulders. She looked up at him with terrified eyes. "Are those wolves?" she gasped.
He smiled down at her with a dark and confusing twinkle in his eyes. "I'm the only wolf you need to worry about," he said.
His meaning was lost on her as he pushed her back down to the ground and gently pried her hands from his shoulders. She tried to regain her hold on him, but he evaded her. She was desperate now. "Please stay!" she begged frantically.
He shook his head. "I must go."
She blinked against the tears that filled her eyes. When her vision cleared, he had disappeared. She struggled to her feet, filled with a sense of loss that cut her deeply. Her legs were wobbly and unsteady as she pulled her filthy dress together and did up the row of buttons. There was dirt soiling the entire expanse of the white cloth, and her cape was crumpled on the ground where she had just been.
After she was redressed, she looked around to find that the path to Esme's cottage was indeed the one she'd been on before the rain began to fall. She shook her head and reached for her basket. Perhaps Esme could comfort her now.
As she neared the front door of the cottage, she heard a hauntingly familiar howl ring out against the trees. She spun around, hoping to see the mysterious man, but she did not.
Sighing in resignation, she lifted her hand to knock on Esme's door.
A/N: I know I've left some things unresolved, but that's because I'm leaving it open for a possible continuation. Either that or I'm just trying to confuse you;)