Act One of Beautiful Dangerous

Summary: He who seeks revenge should remember to dig two graves. E/J, slash, bloodplay, AH, OOC, NC-17.

Being held a foe, he may not have access
To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;
But passion lends them power, time means, to meet,
Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.


He couldn't have been much more than twenty, and he was beautiful. I could easily see the blue of his eyes through the window as I walked by.

I had to meet him.

It was easy once I was inside. All I had to do was catch his eye and return his shy smile, bite my lip just as he did, dip my head away a split second before him. It worked every time.

"Sorry," I said. "I don't usually do this; you know, talk to complete strangers in coffee shops." It was a lie. "I couldn't leave without knowing your name."

He blushed, and it was delicious, watching the blood rush to his face. I was sure I could feel it, the heat of it. I wanted to touch his skin, to feel his pulse racing, to taste him, but it wasn't time yet. "Jasper," he said.

"I'm Edward." I held out my hand to him, and he took it. I had to swallow my gasp at the heat of him, and the shock that raced up my arm and straight into my chest. Yes, he was perfect, and I had to have him. I fidgeted, but it was a conscious action, carefully contrived to make him feel at ease. "Could I... buy you a coffee sometime, or a drink, or maybe dinner?" I waited, a hopeful expression on my face.

He nodded enthusiastically, and then pulled a pen and notebook out of the back pocket of his skin-tight black jeans. He quickly scribbled a number, made to slip it to me, and then pulled back at the last second and scrawled his name above it.

I chuckled. "Don't worry, Jasper. I definitely won't forget whose number this is." I slipped the paper into my own back pocket, but I'd already memorised it.


I made him think that I was just the same as him. Normal. I ate the unpalatable food, chewing and swallowing, allowing it to slide down my throat. Next to him nothing had a taste.

He toyed with the rose I'd given him. "It's still got the thorns."

"That's the way it's supposed to be."

He pressed his forefinger against a sharp point, and my breath hissed inward. "Yes," he said. "Beautiful, and yet dangerous."

He didn't say it out loud, but I knew he didn't want to part ways at the end of the evening. He wished that he had asked me to pick him up instead of meeting me at the restaurant. He wished he hadn't been smart like that.

I walked him to his car and let him pause expectantly for just a few moments before I kissed him. And when I did he surrendered completely to me, throwing his arms around my neck and pushing his hips forward to press into mine. His heart beat fast in his chest and the rhythm flowed through me, intoxicating me. Would I be able to wait, to savour him as I wanted, when he was so willing?

I pulled back from our kiss, and stroked blond strands off his forehead. "You're so beautiful, Jasper. I don't know how I'm going to be able to resist you."

His heart beat faster. "I'm okay with it if you don't." A blatant invitation.

But it wasn't time yet. The longer I waited, the sweeter he would be. I placed the palm of my hand over the thumping vein in his throat, and he shivered at my cold touch. "Goodnight, Jasper."


The next time we had dinner I picked him up, and drove him home after. I kissed him at his door until he was breathless.

"Do you wanna come in?" he asked me. Blood rushed to his face.

I sighed, my fingers under his shirt and trailing over the bare skin of his lower back as I held him close. "Yes, Jasper. But I'm not going to. Not yet."

He made a noise, half sob, half gasp. His hips twitched against me. "What are we waiting for? I want you."

"I want it to be perfect. It'll be sweeter if we wait, I promise you."

His breath shuddered, and his body pressed closer to mine. "God, Edward. You're unreal." He laughed softly.

I lowered my lips to his throat, let my tongue glide over the place where I could practically taste the blood flowing beneath the skin. It would be so much sweeter, the longer I waited. He shivered in my arms. I'd make it good for him too.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," he whispered so softly I wasn't sure if he meant for me to hear it.

So soon. And I'm not often surprised about such things. His admission inflamed me and I had to tear my lips from his throat. Not here.

I kissed him again, pushing him hard against the door and the breath rushed out of him. He moaned into my mouth, rubbing his hips against mine. His blood smelt sweeter already, so good. I wanted it, needed it, needed him.

Not yet.

He whimpered when I pulled away. "Tease," he murmured with a smile as I backed away from him.


"Careful. That knife is sharp." The blade came dangerously close to his fingers as he sliced the vegetables. I couldn't take my eyes from it. One nick, and his blood would be spilt. I could imagine the red flowing out and staining the pure white of the marble countertop and my mouth watered.

He grinned. "I know what I'm doing. God, Edward. Your house is amazing. How did I not know you lived in a freaking mansion?"

I dropped my eyes demurely. "The house belongs to a friend. I'm sort of house sitting right now."

"Oh, right." He looked relieved, if anything. "I was starting to wonder why you drove a Volvo instead of like, an Aston Martin or something." He laughed.

I heard his breath hiss inward suddenly before I saw what he'd done.

"Shit," he said as he squeezed the tip of his finger. A drop of blood welled on his skin. "I guess I don't know what I'm doing. You distracted me." He grinned.

I couldn't take my eyes from the blood. Without realising I had moved, I was in front of him and holding his hand before me.

"I'm fine, really. Do you have a band aid? It's just a scratch."

I lifted my eyes to his and watched them widen as I pulled his finger between my lips. My tongue swept the tiny drop off his skin and I suppressed the groan that heralded the waves of pleasure that flowed through me at his taste, copper and salt.

I released him. "You should be more careful," I said, my eyes still locked to his.

He let out a short, sharp laugh. "You're a little weird, you know, Edward?"

I blinked.

And then he pressed his hips against me. He was as hard as I was. "I think I like weird."

I rather thought he did too, from his reaction. But I couldn't play this game, could not only have a taste.

I had to finish this. Tonight. "Do you love me?" I asked him.

He raised an eyebrow. "You know I do."

I kissed him, and wondered if he found his blood as intoxicating as I did. Yet the taste was gone already, and I wanted more. It wasn't supposed to be this soon, but it was time.

It would be tonight.

I didn't pull away as I always had before. Jasper deepened the kiss, his hands at the back of my neck, holding me firmly as if he would stop me from pulling away. I was painfully aware of his cut finger, pressing against my skin, I could feel the heat of it, the throb. I was sure it was still bleeding, could feel a small slickness where it pressed against my flesh. Hot, sweet, I needed it...

I turned my face from his with a gasp, searching for that heat, that thing I craved.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, wonder in his voice. Sweet, innocent Jasper. Pure. The throb dragged around my throat, across my cheek, and he slipped his finger into my mouth. It was still bleeding, just a little, and I moaned out loud this time when his taste hit my tongue.

His hips thrust against me as I sucked, and his breaths were heavy and uneven. "God. This is what gets you off?"

I met his eyes, gauging his reaction. His eyes were wide and staring, but there was nothing of the revulsion I'd seen in others eyes, none of the accusations and persecutions I'd seen before I learnt to hide my desires.

"I feel like I should be creeped out by this. I'm not." His breathing shuddered, and he ground his hips against mine, taking a step, steering me back against the counter. "It's actually really hot. This gets you off?" he asked again.

The tiny wound had closed. I wanted more. I released his finger from my lips and held his wrist, pressing the soft veined inside to my mouth, letting my tongue feel the pulse beneath the skin.

"This is why you wanted to wait? What? You can't get off without... blood?"

"Of course I can. I just wanted it to be perfect. It wasn't for me." I kissed the inside of his wrist. "It was for you, Jasper. It was all for you. I want it to be wonderful, perfect. And it will be."

"Tonight?" he asked hopefully. My heart soared.

"Yes, Jasper. Tonight."

He smiled, and pressed his teeth into his lip. And then he slowly trailed his hands down, over my shoulders, down my chest and to my belt. "I can't tell you how much I've wanted you." He slipped his fingers into the waist of my jeans, and looked up at me from beneath long eyelashes. His question was plain in his eyes.

"What about dinner?" I fought to keep the stammer from my voice.

"I don't want dinner. I want you, Edward. Please."

How could I deny him? "Not here. The bedroom."

An excited smile spread across his face. He was so beautiful, and the innocent excitement in his demeanour was as intoxicating as his blood. Soon. It would be so soon, and then I could have all I liked. And he would be even more beautiful, as it flowed out of him...

He took me by the hand. "Show me the way."

I did, but he pulled us back for just a second, to wrap his fingers carefully around the single long stemmed rose that lay on the counter, the red petals a stunning contrast against the marble. "I can't forget this," he whispered, and swept the flower across his cheek. Scarlet against palest pink. Lovely.

We walked silently, hand in hand, up the stairs. I wanted to tell him so many things, but they had to wait. Till the perfect time. He gasped when we entered the room. "God, is everything in this house white?" he asked.

I smiled. "I like it. It's so much easier to see colour this way. It stands out." I pulled him into my arms and kissed him, and he melted into me. I wanted him naked. A blank slate. "Take off your clothes," I whispered.

He blushed again. I loved how he did so easily. His skin burned against my lips as I dragged them across his cheek.

"You too, right?" His heart beat faster.

I lifted my hands to my collar. "Of course."

His fingers shook as he removed his clothing. Oh, he was glorious, perfect and beautiful.

"God, you're pretty, Edward," he said nervously as his eyes explored my body. He still clutched the rose in his fingers by the prickly stem. As I watched, he drew the petals across his hard stomach, and that caress, plus the splash of colour on his white skin made me moan in want.

"It's because it's red, isn't it?" he asked, his voice low and seductive. "Like blood?" He drew the bud up his chest, to his shoulder and lingered on his throat. "How about here? You like that?"

I could barely breathe. That he was taunting me like this, teasing me with promises of the rapture still to come... It was beyond my wildest dreams. Was this... acceptance? Thoughts of more than just this one night flickered through my mind, more than one night with him, to be able to taste him, again and again. Would he give himself to me willingly?

Could I be satisfied with that?

He dragged the petals away again, down his arm, to his wrist. "How about here?" And then swiftly, he struck the stem across the inside of his wrist.

The hooked thorns tore into his skin with an audible ripping noise. He barely flinched. Blood welled, flowed down his fingers, dripped to the floor.

He raised his arm slowly, twisting his wrist and gazing at the wound as if in wonder, as crimson fluid oozed and began to flow the other way. And then just as slow, he brought his eyes to mine as he pressed his ring finger to his lower lip, reddening it with his own blood. He sucked the finger into his mouth.

I gasped, my heart threatening to burst with need for him. His lips so red, I had to taste them, to taste him. My eyes flicked to his in a silent question, and he released his finger and raised his chin, parting his lips in invitation.

I closed the short space between us, and clutching his bleeding wrist in one hand I captured his lips with mine, letting my tongue sweep the colour from his mouth, taking every last drop from his lips and tongue.

"For you," he whispered, lowering his wrist to his hip. "On your knees. I want you to taste me, drink my blood."

My wildest dreams had come true. Jasper was different, he offered me his blood before I'd taken his body. That had never happened before, never with any of the others, and it struck me blind and dumb with gratitude and love for him.

I dropped to my knees before him and took his offering in my hands. His warmth flowed over my fingers as well, and I lowered my lips to his wrist, lapping and sucking with abandon. Blood smeared my lips and face, but I didn't care. My eyes drifted closed as his free hand found my head, fingers weaving into my hair, encouraging me.

I was engulfed in his sweetness.

He gripped my hair tightly, pulling, and then a blinding pain shot through me, as if I'd been struck by lightning. I fell, floated, heard faint words through the fog.

"Sick fuck."

And then nothing.


The first thing I became aware of was a throbbing pain in my head. I could hear, feel, each beat of my heart as the blood struggled to move within me. It took me a few moments to remember what had happened. I groaned, and opened my eyes. I was bound, naked, to the bed, by wrists and ankles, with silk ties. My breath hissed in as my body reacted to the eroticism of it.

Jasper was not in the room.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and I heard the sound of running water. "Jasper?" I called.

He walked into the room and towards the door, without even a glance towards me. He had dressed. I was confused. Why would he leave?

"Don't leave me, Jasper. Please."

He paused, his hand on the doorknob. He turned towards me slowly, and I held my head up to meet his eyes. They were empty, cold. "I don't understand, Jasper. Are you going to leave me like this?"

"I'm gonna call the police."

I couldn't understand why he would do such a thing. "They won't understand, Jasper."

And then, for no reason, his face twisted into an angry scowl. "Stop saying my name!" he exploded. "Like you know me! Like you care! You were going to kill me!"

I tried not to let my hurt feelings show to him. "I do know you, Jasper. I do care, very much." But as I thought about my feelings for him, such strong feelings after he had offered himself to me so recently, I became aroused. And Jasper noticed, his eyes raking slowly down my body to the increasingly obvious evidence of my desire.

He began to walk towards me, his eyes once again on my face. He was so very beautiful, strong and so very dominant in his anger. My cock throbbed with need for him.

"I had a boyfriend once," he said. "Oh, we broke up, but we still talked. We were friends. He told me about this great guy he was seeing, gorgeous, sexy, a real gentleman. Wouldn't make love with him because he was waiting till the 'right' time. Peter fell in love with him."

Peter. I licked my lips. He had been the third. A beautiful boy, and I loved him deeply. His blood was so very sweet, pure and young. But not so sweet as Jasper's had been.

"The guy took him to dinner, gave him a rose... Huh. Just like this one." Jasper picked up the rose from where he'd left it on the bed, his blood still clinging to the leaves, and dragged it across his cheek. I gasped, my stomach tightening, and I had to close my eyes for just a moment. The colour against his skin was exquisite.

"He told him the colour was beautiful against his skin. He told Peter he loved him too. Were you going to tell me you loved me tonight Edward?"

"Yes." I struggled to control my uneven breaths.

Jasper's lips pursed, and he glared at me. "Anyway, this guy had a funny way of showing it, because a few days later Peter disappeared. They found him in an empty house, splayed out on a bed very like this one. Perfect white sheets. His throat had been cut open. They said it wasn't deep enough to kill him fast. He died slowly. He would have known that he was slowly bleeding to death. He'd been fucked, too. What I want to know, is when. Before? While he was dying? Or was it... after? How sick are you really?"

I let my eyes drift closed as I remembered Peter, and how divine he had been. Scarlet against pure white, the perfect contrast. And his taste... "But you understand me, Jasper. I know you do. That's why I was going to make love to you tonight, because you understood. You gave yourself to me in a way none of the others ever have. You were already perfect, before I ever expected you to be. You're like me, Jasper."

"The fuck I am!" His fists clenched at his sides. I noticed that his wrist was bound with a white bandage, and the smell of antiseptic clung to him. I mourned the loss of the taste and scent of him that I had had before...

He knocked me out. And then laid me out like this, open and exposed. Accessible. He was lying to me, hoping I would believe that he didn't want this, didn't want me. "You could have tied me to a chair. Trussed me up and left me on the floor. You didn't. You tied me to the bed. Why?"

His eyes again settled on my cock, and it twitched under his scrutiny. I noticed when his breathing hitched, when his tongue darted out to lick his lips, when he dragged the lower one into his mouth and sucked. He could not deny that he wanted me. "You want what I wanted from you, Jasper. You want to take me, and while you do it, open my throat and taste me. Do it, Jasper. I want you to do it." My cock twitched against my stomach, my hips rising off the bed as I sought any stimulation at all.

He reached out and wrapped his fingers around my length and began to slowly stroke me.

I groaned, my head falling back. I knew he wanted this as much as I did. He was like me, and I wanted him to show me how he loved me. "Please, Jasper. Take me. I want you to. If you love me, please."

"You want me to fuck you, Edward?" he asked with a disbelieving stare.

"Oh yes. Love me like I would have loved you." I gasped. "I want it, please, I want you to see my blood spill out around me, please Jasper, make me come and spill my blood!"

He let go of me and I cried out at the loss. "You're a fucking lunatic," he whispered. "You're asking me to kill you?" His words wounded me, but I knew that he was only confused, because his own cock was straining against the zipper of his jeans, the shape of it outlined in sharp relief.

I wanted to show my disappointment, and so I frowned. "Jasper," I admonished, "I only ask you to prove your love for me. I would do the same for you."

Colour drained from his face, and he stood over me, frozen, staring.

And then finally he spoke. "Killing you, like you killed Peter, I thought that would be justice." His eyes narrowed. "But you want that. I'm not going to give you what you want." Quickly, he turned from me and moved swiftly to the door. He began to open it, but stopped and turned back. "I'm calling the cops. Revenge is sweeter," he whispered, and then was gone.

I stared at the open door as I listened to his hurried footsteps on the stairs, as I heard the front door slam shut behind him.

I sighed heavily as the sound of his car engine faded away, and then I tested my bonds. The authorities arriving and finding me in such a position would not do, at all.

A/N: This was originally part of the Fics for Nashville compilation. Thanks to venis-envy for playing muse on this one; and to my most excellent beta, kuroiblacknightingale.

I don't have a strict update schedule on this one, I will update when I get inspired. It needs a specific headspace ;) And it won't be epic by any means, 4-5 parts only, each very self-contained. At least that's the plan. And of course I've gotta get though September and the four contests I'm entering O.O

Thanks so much for reading, and remember to review!