Five Seconds To Death Chapter 11
Author : Lifeless Lyndsey
Pairing: This was tough to pick. Mainly, it's JasperxBella through the whole fic, with a side of JasperxPeter, PeterxBella, JasperxPeterxBella (take your pick, it rotates) Some PeterxOC, but that's finished this chapter.
Warning: M for language, lemons, slash, possible threesomes, possible gore.
Word Count: Just north of 4k
Disclaimer: I own nearly nothing; not the characters, not the Bella, not Jasper, but maybe a little bit of the Peter.
"Mine," Jasper all but snarled, sinking his teeth into the thick tendons of my neck, marking me like a fucking animal. He was out to prove something, to himself or to me. Don't know why the boy bothered; he'd already done and ruined me for anyone else.
It was a mess'a motion after that. I reckon we were both too damn far gone in the feel of it to really care past the moment. We tore at each other, ripping strips from our clothes, from our goddamn flesh. Naked in the mud, my whole damn world fell the fuck apart. Couldn't stop him, didn't want to, 'cause Jasper'd done gotten under my skin, and I was sick with 'em, not of 'em.
I wanted it all back, all the shit he'd done stole right out from under my two feet when he high-tailed his pretty ass on outta my life. I wanted anything he'd fuckin' give me. He'd turned me into a goddamn masochist cause I'd let him hurt me any damn time he wanted if only he'd keep makin' me feel this good afterward.
When the fucker finally kissed me, I knew I was done. He spread me out like a slut, cause' there might'a been a time way-back-when, when I called the shots but it was gone. Jasper'd gone and found my one weakness; him. And he used it, played me like the devil's own golden fuckin' fiddle. He'd been pushin' at all my buttons since he'd stepped on my porch and there just weren't many left for pushin'.
Oh, but he was fuckin' pushin'.
His fingers were creepin', sinking inches and miles down the waist of my open jeans. I was hard and it had not a goddamn thing to do with Hunter. It never did. It was him, no matter what he believed, always him. Always fuckin' him. No one could wreck me like Jasper Whitlock. No one could undo me like him; untie all my strings like a fuckin' shoe, just to kick me aside.
All that shy boy hesitance was gone as he curled his hand around my cock, squeezing it brutally. "This ain't for him," he murmured, scratching his teeth down my throat. He was tearing me up, and licking away the wounds; I'd smell like him for weeks at this rate. "You givin' my toys away, Petey? Won't earn you any friends on the playground, boy."
I moaned, like a bitch, pushin' up into his hand and he liked that, his growls melting away like butter til' he was purrin' in my ear. "Such a fuckin' slut, Peter. Huh? Such a fuckin' slut," he repeated, pinning me back and pressin' me down to keep my hips from jerkin'. The sounds that tore from me were pitiful, shameful, but hot damn I wanted him all over me. I wanted him all up in me. "My slut. Mine."
"Yours," I choked again, as he tore his hand away, pushin' me roughly to my knees. I sunk down in the mud, and the rain kept pourin'. Rainiest day in Texas I ever did see. Like a babe to a damn tit, it was instinct, the way I pressed my face against the front of his hips, nuzzlin' away. He ran his hands through my hair, tugging roughly as he made me look at him.
Oh Goddamn, I near about died all over.
A yank on my hair brought me back, as he pressed my face back against his cock, growlin'. I grabbed my dick, but it just wasn't the same as his hand. Groaning deep, I jerked it, my other hand moving up to push at his shirt as I moved to mouth at his stomach. He whimpered when I licked his navel, pushin' me back into the mud.
My legs were sprawled, dick firm against my stomach, half-trapped in my pants, and he dropped down between my legs, just lookin' all over me, gold eyes bright and lost. He crawled over me, back arched like a goddamn cat as his hand slid beneath my neck, half hauling me up against him. "Never," he snarled, licking a line straight up my cheek, "again."
Goddamn, but it was glorious. He pushed my last button, tearing into me in the last of ways, and it was all I could do to hold on and not break into a million tiny pieces. But it felt so damn good to have him here; in me, on me, all the fuck around me. Fightin' and fuckin'; them's what we were good at. It's all we ever really knew.
Face to face he fucked me over while he lined up to just fuck me. That added torment, lookin' up at his face, well it just about did me in. 'Cause it was feral, nothin' but possessive rage as his lips curled back and his hands cupped my hips pulling me to him. But the worst, oh goddamn the worst of it was when he faltered, body stutterin' as he gasped out a question in a word, in a name; in my name.
All that breath I never needed was knocked straight outta me as I grasped onto him like a fuckin' limpet, fingers clinging, shamefully desperate. 'Cause I knew what would happen next, what he would say and if he said it, it would be real. He would make it real and then what? What could I do if he made it real, if he said it and meant it? I'd pretended for a long time, lied to myself, and it didn't make it easy, but it made it bearable. If he said it, what would I do then? When I couldn't deny it? When he looked me in the eye like he was and said the two words that would serve as more of an admission then anything else? "Please..."
Five seconds passed that shameful plea, five seconds where he just looked at me, looked through me and probably saw the broken fucking mess of self-denial I'd become.
Five seconds to death.
Five seconds for him to kill me again.
'Cause if I let him do this, and I'd be a fool to say I wasn't done already, he was gonna be the death of me.
"Don't," I breathed, but it was too damn late. The look in his eye was enough to scream it, but I heard it all the same.
Fuckin' me, lovin' me, he said it and I shattered.
I was gone.
The moment I saw Hunter, I was just gone. Bastard still smelled like my Bella, and it killed me dead, 'cause that wasn't the reason I was do damn gone.
He was touching mine.
A switch was flipped; any Cullen left in me died in a fire of rage. I heard him whimper, heard Peter tell him to run. I heard it all, but it didn't matter shit, 'cause I had mine. Right in my arms, I had mine. But he didn't smell like mine no more, and that was just a damn shame. He smelled like him, and even her, just a little, right on his mouth where Hunter'd kissed her and then kissed him and I didn't like it, not one fucking bit.
So I bit him; he was mine.
His flesh, that little strip of scarred, milky skin right at his throat, it gave like silk to scissors. My spot, my mark, the very first of so damn many. I knew it hurt, knew it would burn like a damn bitch and I wanted it to. I wanted Mine to know that he was mine. It was selfish and wrong but in that moment, it didn't fucking matter because the boy was mine.
I just needed to touch him, feel his skin on my skin. Working my arm up under his, I slid my hand down his chest, fingers grating over every mark and scar, brushing past his navel to push at his jeans. They were open, dick hard and peeking from between the undone zipper.
I took his cock in hand, it was mine after all, and squeezed it roughly, tearing a little whimper straight outta his mouth, that mouth of mine. "This ain't for him," I reminded him, nipping up his throat. Rain drops washed away the scent of Hunter, leaving him a clean slate for licking. My teeth sliced thin lines though his skin like paper-cuts, and I licked at them too, letting my venom sink inside. I wanted him to smell like me, inside and out. I wanted it to stay with him, remind him cruelly. So cruelly, but I couldn't help it.
"You giving my toys away, Petey?" I asked, palming the head of his dick. He humped into my hand, fingers already clenching against my arms where he'd grabbed me back. "That won't earn you any friends on the playground, boy." My boy. Mine. He thrusted up against me hard, whining from the back of his throat and it was goddamn beautiful. "Such a fucking slut, Peter," I growled, feeling my eyelashes shutter as I soaked up his lust, vague as it was behind a layer of whatever it was that kept me from feeling him. All that love-lust, it was just as fucking beautiful as him when I could feel it, when he let me. It crashed down on me as he let go, struggling where I'd pinned him against my own hips, ass grinding against my own cock. "My slut. Mine."
He'd barely choked out the word 'yours' as I pushed him to his knees, pushing and pulling till he was facing me. Without a goddamn word or order, he pressed his face up against my hips, nosing down the aching line of my cock through my pants. He was so fucking pretty, all mussed up and muddy. Tugging on his hair, I forced him to look up, choking on my demand even as I spit it out. He tore me up in ways he couldn't ever know. "Touch yourself."
He sucked in a sharp breath, lust spiking hard enough to make my own knees shake. So he remembered; remembered that first night of ours when he got beneath my skin, and stayed. His eyes were wide, staring up at me and I couldn't fucking look at him like that, I couldn't. I pressed his mouth back against my cock, his venom soaking the poly-cotton blend of my khakis as he mouthed at it blindly, his hand reaching for his own.
It was jerky, uncoordinated even. He mouthed past my dick, pushing at my shirt to lick at my stomach. It was so much like before; I could almost smell the cigarette smoke and burning scent of vampire in the air, filtered by little more than the four walls of the prison I kept him in. And I had thought things were far from simple then. His tongue dipped inside my navel, teeth scraping gently across the bottom of my stomach and it was almost more than I could take, shuddering growls tearing up through my throat. I needed him. I needed him to be mine again and I was a fool to think I could ever believe otherwise.
I pushed him back, sending him sprawling through the thick mud. He looked all sorts of fucked up, spread out real pretty, dick flat against his stomach. I fell between his thighs, lookin' him up and down. I was a fool; a fool torn. I was a liar and a fool, I thought, crawling up his lean body. Sliding a hand under his neck, I pulled him against me, forehead pressed against his. "Never," I growled, pausing only to lick a line up his cheek, his wet lashes tickling against my lips, "again."
I got him naked in all the wrong ways, tearing at him as he tore at me. He was mindless, and I was mindless, but I just needed, oh God, I needed. Needed him to just...let me. Let me have, and he would, because he was Peter and Peter had never failed me, not ever, not once. He'd let me take and take and take; he was infallible, unbreakable. He was the one constant I'd known. The sun would set, the moon would rise, and Peter would never break.
I never needed anyone like I needed him.
I needed him to take it, let me fuck him and fuck him up. I pushed into him, watching his mouth curl up into a snarl. All that feral beauty, it just fucking called to me. It was mine, he was mine, and no matter what he would be. No matter what I did to him, he'd be mine. And I knew it, and I used it, and I couldn't fucking stop. I didn't deserve him, but he was mine, and there was a lesson there I was sure I'd never fully learn. He told me I couldn't' break him, but I'd never stop trying. Why couldn't I stop? "Peter," I breathed, frozen over him, in him, but I meant to say 'I'm sorry'.
He grabbed me, lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes tightly, a broken little sob tearing up out of his chest. "Please," he cried, head falling back. He was crying, and I didn't think he even knew.
Five seconds passed that shameful plea, five seconds where he just looked at me, looked through me. "Don't."
But I couldn't stop.
He came just like that, crying out or maybe just crying, taking me with him even as he pushed me off him, falling back against the ground. He threw his arms over his eyes and growled when I dared to near him. "No," he breathed. "No, no, no, no."
"I'm sorry," I said again, choking on the trickling waves of pain seeping out of Peter's filter. It was crushing, even as soft and vague as it was. "I'm sorry."
"Shut up," he breathed out, arms flopping dead at his sides. His eyes were still closed, body streaked with mud. "Congratulations. I think she'd be proud. Did you enjoy it as much as you thought you would?"
"Who?" I asked, pushing up to my knees. I stared down at him, where he laid lifelessly across the ground. "Who would be proud?"
"Maria," he replied, and everything went numb inside him. "Make him yours. Take him. Break him.' I knew you were a persistent bastard but shit, who knew you'd still be trying? She'd be proud of you, boy. How's it feel? Did you enjoy it, Jasper? Did you enjoy it as much as you thought you would?"
"Peter-" He cut me off with a hysterical laugh, looking up from where he lay.
"How's it feel? How's it feel to finally break me?" he asked, the expression on his face broken and raw. "Go," he choked, dropping his head back. "Just go."
Bella was waiting for me on the porch when I returned, her face closing a little bit more with every step closer I took. I'd only just hit the bottom step when she spoke. "Eye for an eye, Jasper?" She shook her head, looking me over. I was half naked, filthy, and probably torn in places where Peter'd ripped his nails through my skin. Shoving a towel at me, her expression hardened. "I'm not sure this counts as even. There was no love between Hunter and I."
I growled at that, a tiny snarl slipping past my lips. "I found them together," I admitted.
Bella barked out a laugh and shoved me hard, tripping me down the stairs. "You find Peter with Hunter and your response is to fuck him?"
Her smile was sad, and her eyes were cold as she shook her head. "He fucks Hunter, and your response is to fuck him, Jasper," she said slowly, biting her lip. "I fuck Hunter and what? I get the cold shoulder. I get sent to my room like a naughty child-"
"Bella," I cut her off in alarm. "I love you, you know I love you."
"I do," she said seriously. "I know you love me and how much you love me and God knows I love you too. But I don't get you, Jasper. I don't get you at all. What the hell is wrong with you? How could you do that to him?"
"I-what?" I asked stupidly, derailed by her unexpected train of thought.
"He loves you," she breathed. "He really loves you. You told me that yourself. And what do you do? You fuck him. And then you come home to me?"
"I...he sent me away."
Her laugh turned incredulous. "You sound surprised! I told you to go bring him home, not go fuck him! What the hell is wrong with you! You know how he feels! You know it because you feel it too!"
"I love you!" I snapped, watching her eyes flash with anger.
"You love us both," she said quietly. "You love us wrong. Is this love, Jasper? I don't remember it how it felt before. Is this what love feels like? Because it fucking sucks. How can you say that you love us, and pull this shit? I could understand if you went out and fucked a random nobody, Jasper, I could. But you don't get to fuck with Peter like that. It isn't fair. Haven't you done enough?"
She had no idea what I'd done. "I told him I was sorry."
"I'm sure that made everything better," she seethed, shaking her head at me. She backtracked through the house, returning with a pair of jeans in hand. I winced as she brushed past me on the stairs, slamming her shoulder into mine.
"Where are you going?" I asked, reaching for her, but she was already half way gone. "Bella?"
I heard her even before I smelled her, and I made a mental note to work with her on that if Jasper wasn't packing their shit to leave right at that moment. "Baby," I called out, eyes still closed.
"Hi Peter," she murmured, making her noisy way across the muddy clearing. She sank down in the mud beside me, legs outstretched parallel to mine. "You're a naked hot mess."
"Oh Baby B," I laughed, only slightly hallow. "In these parts we say'you look about as pretty as hammered dog shit.'"
"Gross," she laughed with me, but her voice was still quiet. "You really are torn up, Peter. Do you want help with...um. With that?" She asked, fingers dancing around the edges of Jasper's bite.
"Nah, it'll heal," I replied with an exaggerated smile. It would. It always did. "This is just what you look like post-Jasper."
"I wouldn't know," she replied dryly, taking one of my hands into both of hers. "I've never been post-Jasper."
"Eh, sorry," I offered with a weak grin. "'Bout all of it, I guess. I mean if you're talkin' proverbially, you got fucked just about as hard as I did. Then again, I know Hunter, know what that boy can do; I'm half surprised you ain't walking with a limp, girl."
"Oh fuck you Peter," Baby snapped back, smile on her face. "So is that what this was? I fucked your boyfriend so you fucked mine?"
She didn't say mate and it didn't go unnoticed, but I wasn't about to go getting presumptuous. I didn't know what she knew, and I wasn't about to lay it all out and about without the facts. "Hunter mighta been my boy but he wasn't my boyfriend, peaches." I stretched in the mud, twisting to look up at her. "And if I recall correctly, and I most certainly do, I wasn't the one doing the fuckin' when it came to your boy, Baby B. You really think Jasper'd bottom?"
"How would I know?" Baby asked, shruggin' her narrow shoulders. "The way he's been acting lately, I kind of wondered what the hell crawled up his ass. Geez, Peter, I don't even know what to say to you."
"Ain't nothin' to be said baby girl, you ain't done wrong by me," I assured her, squeezing her hand in mine.
She looked down at me, head pressed against her shoulder. "I sent him out here, you know. He told me about you. About how you guys met and how he left you for Alice." So she didn't know. That bastard had got off easy tellin' her everything but that little fact. She wouldn't be here coddlin' up on me if she knew. "I told him to go and find you and bring you back and what did he do? He fucked with you some more. I can't believe him, how he can know...know how you feel and still do this to you."
I laughed, 'cause the girl could not possibly know the depth of it and yet she had a pretty damn good grasp. It made me want to be honest, and the truth spilled outta me like moonshine, clear and burnin'. "He does it cause' I let him, Baby. 'Cause I ain't strong enough, never been strong enough to tell that boy no."
To my surprise, she gathered me into those slender arms of hers, pressin' my face right against her chest. "How can you let him hurt you like this?" she asked, as if she knew what this was. This, the indefinable depths of pain; the constant ebb and flow of ache that filled me like a flooded river, muddied edges and endless currents. "You love him," she breathed, clutching on to me. "God. You still love him."
Twisted at the hips with my mouth crushed against the soft cotton of her shirt where it was stretched over her chest, I nodded wordlessly. She hugged me tighter, heedless of my state; I was covered by mud and mud alone. "I love him too, the jerk," she murmured, tucking my head up under her chin like I was a child. "You hurt so bad Peter, I don't know how you can stand it..."
Ain't ashamed to say I jerked in her arms, head knocking her chin, in surprise. "You're an empath?" The odds of that were shit; a vampire's gift wasn't inherited.
She hushed me, pulling me back against her chest 'til I was kneelin' in the mud, holding tight to her. "No," she explained quietly. "It's...different. It's like...I see things how you see them, tinged with your emotions, your thoughts. Jasper says that's probably why Edward couldn't read my mind, because I was destined to be my own kind of mind reader. It's not strong yet, I have to be focusing, and touching still and everything still comes out hazy."
"Consider yourself lucky," I replied. "Jasper can't get nothing on me, unless I let 'em, and it ain't easy."
She didn't say anything in response for a long time, simply sat in the mud with me, rocking us both. We'd twisted and shifted 'til she had me wrapped in her arms, my head on her shoulders. "I can't let him hurt you like this," she murmured, long after the sun had set. "I love him to death Peter, but I won't let him hurt you like this."
I laughed, tired and broken, shaking my head. "Ain't no stoppin' it, Baby. Just...just don't get all up-innit. Pretend you didn't know. Be happy with him."
"I feel like I don't know him at all," she whispered. "Like...he isn't the Jasper I fell in love with. What do I do with that? What do I do now?"
"He ain't the Jasper I knew either," I said, in feeble reassurance. "He ain't the Major who made me."
"So where does that leave us?"
A/N Oh ho, but no. There probably won't be much Peter/Bella, sorry to say.