So this was from a birthday promt for my one true Russian love, Natasha (sorry Arlovski). She's a lover of slash and Twilight and Brokeback Mountain alike. SO when it came down to what she wanted for her birthday, she said a BBM/Twilight crossover.
Honestly, this project intimidated the fuck out of me. I mean, Brokeback Mountain and Twilight, really? REALLY? Not to mention, I'd never written slash before . . . needless to say this was one hell of a go. I wanted to keep to the core of canon in both universes, while creating a completely plausible storyline that would fit right in with canon as if it were MEANT to have happened this way. Here's hoping I got it right.
I can only hope that I did it justice and that it's everything my girl hoped for. Natasha, my eternal love, you complete me.
Many, MANY thanks to Connie and Alla for being fucking awesome girls. They helped see this vision off the ground, pre-reading, betaing, supporting, and banner making.
Here's the link to Connie's banner by the way: http:/ i898. photobucket. com/albums/ac184/BeanFlikn247/FanFiction%20Banners%20and%20Blinkies/ForeverChanged-1. jpg.
I'm glad I got the chance to try this out, it was a great experience and I hope you all enjoy! HUGE heads up, it's insanely smutterific, it actually makes me blush.
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight and/or Brokeback Mountain and/or any of its characters. No copyright infringement is intended.
It was the dead of night—that hour when even the crickets had decided to go to sleep. When the cold air had reached its peak for the night, and the winds played around like they owned the land. A dark blanket of indigo set over the horizon. Hollow, golden eyes gazed out of the dusty window in front of them, watching the breeze claw through the budding spring trees. The owner of those eyes should have been sleeping too . . . but sleep was impossible for him. He hadn't slept in over forty years.
With a defeated sigh, Edward Cullen slammed the book down on the desk he sat next to. His shoes slammed against the wooden leg of his chair. He had been reading the same line in that one book for over the past hour. Although to him it felt like only minutes. Time moved quicker when you had too much of it. And nobody knew what it felt like to have too much time for themselves like Edward Cullen. Or Edward Masen rather.
At least that used to be his name . . . a long time ago. A time when he was alive; and a time he would never get back.
He grew tireless, and the boredom . . . the unhappiness . . . seeped into him like the stench of weeks old milk left on the porch in mid-summer. It drove him mad daily—hourly. Each instant of his eternal life was a curse to him. It was his atonement for all the wrongs he had committed, both in this life, and the one he wished he still had. How Edward wished he could sleep, to dream at the very least.
In his dreams he would have something to hold on to. Maybe Edward would dream, as any young man would, of what his future would hold: the shine of sunlight bouncing off the pin he wore proudly on his chest for an honorable service to his country, or the blue he would paint a small bedroom as a vibrant young woman caressed her growing belly. If he were lucky, his dreams would bless him with the luxury of memories from his past that were fast fading: his mother cooking dinner, the strong smell of steamed broccoli mixing with the scents of butter and chicken coming from around her in the kitchen. Broccoli had always been his mother's favorite. Or Edward would dream of sitting at a stiff desk in a stodgy study, his long, elegant fingers ghosting over the pages in front of him, the writing raised like goose bumps on flesh, as his father discussed matters of a legal nature. His father loved his legal employment and wanted Edward to one day follow in his footsteps. Edward had hated the idea of wasting away in some legal office, but he had never expressed this notion to his father. And now, he would never have the opportunity . . . now he would have even rejoiced in the sweet fortune of a life of wasting away in a stuffy, over-worked office.
But that wouldn't be available to him. Living was no longer an option.
When Edward was a young man, when life blushed his cheeks and blazed in his vibrant green eyes, before the illness claimed his human life and Carlisle claimed his soul, he would go to the market in central Chicago just to watch the fare; to watch the interactions of others. People fascinated Edward.
As he immersed himself in the sounds and bustle of a busy Chicago market, the vendors shouting prices, the rainbow of colors from fabric flapping against stands in the strong breeze off the lake to the east, the smell of beets in vinegar, it was the people that kept Edward's attention. He wanted to know what they were thinking always, and he found himself watching with a keen eye trying to understand their hidden secrets . . . what they would never show the world.
When the simple blonde with a glistening new ring on her finger smiled softly to herself, Edward yearned to know what caused that smile. As he watched the young boys shoving one another while blowing pops with their gum and wagging their eyebrows, Edward pondered all the possible reasons for their merriment. Young Edward Masen, even as a cherubic child, was exceptionally observant of others, and it was something that always held his interest. If he only knew then what would become of him later, he would have gladly given up that hobby.
However, it was impossible.
Carlisle Cullen, his father now for all intents and purposes, had told Edward that the gifts bestowed upon their kind after the change was some innate skill they possessed as humans that would somehow get heightened in this other life. When Edward awoke to the being that he was, it was to the angelic face and golden eyes of the blond man that made Edward as a companion to a life he knew all too well as lonesome. It cursed and condemned Edward intimately, stroking him in a way that left him bare; and Edward was lost. But the most important of these intimate details, Edward could read minds. Something he detested, probably more than living eternally.
Because now, he was not even blessed to be alone with his thoughts.
It was the worst sort of hell imaginable . . . and to Edward Cullen that was exactly what it was: Hell.
To want so badly to have back a chance at living, but not to ever have that again, and yet to watch through the minds of others as they lived their lives—those small intimate details that he used to crave as a boy on display for him now—was something that Edward could not have begun to fathom. They mocked him and spat in his face: every private thought he heard. It was all a mockery of the curious child he was, the adolescent he strived to be, and, worse still, the man he had dreamed of one day becoming. And now never would. Because he could have none of it.
But what damned him more was his very own family. First it was Esme—with her maternal instincts and hope for love—who became Carlisle's wife, and then Rosalie—who was supposed to be for him. But even a future of utter unhappiness and despair couldn't convince Edward to take the statuesque blonde. He didn't understand then why he didn't want the beautiful girl. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her, and better her than life alone . . . but somehow he just couldn't. Then Emmett, a boulder of a man with charisma to spare, came along and took the burden from him. They were paired off, his entire family—save himself, even both Alice and Jasper came as a pair in later years.
It was a swift punch to the chest.
They each had found something worth living an eternity over. How was it that in an eternal hell even they—these soulless immortals—were blessed with the chance to live again . . . to live through their love? God. It killed Edward. What had he ever done in his lifetime to deserve this? How was it that every other being but him found their own happiness . . . their own life? And he was forced to watch it, every minute and intimate detail of these lives on display in a never-ending production that was Dante's Divine Comedy.
How was that fair? How was that just?
Edward had stopped believing . . . in everything, and caring even less years ago.
He was completely numb; he wished he were numb to the thoughts as well, but he couldn't rid himself of that curse. And life with his family became unbearable for many reasons: his thoughts, their thoughts, his sentiments, their sentiments, their interactions with each other, their happiness, his desolation . . . but worse was their pity.
Edward could not take the constant thoughts of what to do to help poor Edward, who was neither happy nor living. Edward didn't want their help; he just wanted to be left alone. He had accepted that he was cursed to this life; wasn't it enough for them that he was in it? Couldn't they understand that he was not ever going to be happy?
If he could Edward would leave them, but he was a glutton for punishment—a masochist of the worst kind. And so after his years of rebellion, which he admits now was probably a bigger mistake—the thoughts of humans before death claimed them was torture, but the thoughts of the vile . . . there was nothing on this earth that would ever cleanse him of those thoughts—he returned to his family. In their company he would wade through this existence and the next and the one after it because it was what he was given: nothing more and nothing less.
"Just go already. I've seen you making the decision," Edward's sister Alice said from downstairs. Her thoughts clued him to her location above the jean-clad lap of her husband, perched and giggling. The two were pretending to read since others were in the spacious living room as well. They were actually playing a game they were both found of, and a rather sadistic one at that. The idle time of the chirpy clairvoyant and her stoic empath was something they both enjoyed. Jasper would emit emotions of lust until it caused Alice to have a vision of the two; then when he picked up her heightened desire from the vision he would change the emotion to anger, or something equally as ridiculous, until she saw some other vision. Then it was back to lust. The two could go at it for hours. It was some form of foreplay for them.
Edward rolled his hooded eyes, as he made his way downstairs. I saw that, Alice thought to him.
As Edward looked out at their rather opulent Montana home, even for this decade . . . which was saying much, he wondered if he would have enough time for a run. Absently, Edward drummed his lithe fingers on the wooden heywood-wakefield by the entrance to the living room. The hideous—although he would never say that to Esme directly—wallpaper that engulfed the living room in a coffee checkered pattern met his eyes, like some sort of optical illusion for the restless.
The style of the fifties was something that Edward wasn't fond of at all. He would readily admit that the advances in both music and technology were marvelous, but the advances in style and current fads weren't to his liking. But what he found most troublesome was the drastic differences between rural and populated locations.
When his family was in Rochester, the style of clothing and shoes and even household decorations were different. Out here the family was in for a very interesting wakeup call. It wasn't loafers and corduroys; it was boots and jeans. It wasn't wallpaper and Italian leather; it was white-washed and patched upholstery. It wasn't croissants and tea; it was biscuits and beer. It took some getting used to for the entire Cullen Coven . . . well, with the exception of Jasper, who welcomed the change with open arms.
But what amused Edward the most was the air of the youth: willing to leave their "square" personas behind and rebel. It was an age old habit of the young, but it seemed that the youth of the fifties were much more adamant about not doing what they were told and branching out on their own; and yet it was the opposite for the youth out in rural Montana and the surrounding locations. They were charged since very young to work hard, do as they were told and take care of their responsibilities.
Although it was currently May, 1960, Edward still felt as if it were the fifties. Time always did seem to speed by those who had too much of it.
And Edward, a child of the nineteen hundreds, who viewed discipline and order as standards with which everyone should mold their life, was having difficulty impersonating a youth of this decade. That was why the family currently found themselves in Montana. It was beautiful country, with ample hunting, and the home they had built in the southern mountain ridge was under perfect veil. But what made Edward happiest was that this decade they decided to forfeit that ridiculous behavior of trying to live among the humans.
Edward knew that it was his family's way of placating him, as Edward just couldn't stand being among humans any longer. Their thoughts tortured him. He was a man teetering the cliff, and his hate at what he was and the life that was denied to him lashed out at everyone. Control was something that Edward mastered, but what was control without will? Even though Edward was capable of abstaining, his anger . . . his frustration made him a liability. So it was that the Cullen Coven relocated to their remote home, to curve Edward's unhappiness and frustrations. He was not completely detached from human civilization, but it was the most comfortable he had been in years. Edward was grateful for his family's support and understanding; Edward truly was, even if he would not express it.
His siblings, Rosalie and Emmett, were off sharing another honeymoon on a secluded island. Therefore it was only Carlisle, who still chose to take employment in the local clinic, which was actually over sixty miles north in Miles City. Edward's sire into this life, that was not a life at all, was quite the opposite of Edward; Carlisle needed human interaction as a means of survival almost. His happiness was found in his "calling", and the good doctor even reveled in home visits with patients. Carlisle's wife Esme, like Edward's siblings Alice and Jasper, found themselves absorbed in their simple hobbies around the home or traveling to keep their interest.
Edward had been debating whether to run the eastern ridge or the western one. However it was closely approaching dawn and he didn't want to risk getting caught in the early-May, morning sun. Also he did not want to be bombarded with the thoughts of intimate lives of others, as he would if he ran the eastern one; but he could no longer stand the thoughts of his family either. He needed to get out of the house. Maybe I'll go hunting instead, further southwest, Edward thought.
In that instant Alice had another vision that he was privy to, as always. It appeared that he would be going hunting. But the vision blurred and Edward saw something he would have never thought in a million years.
From his spot in front of wide window, the Montana dust peppering the heavy blue drapes and drifting around Edward's nose, he turned away from the glass and toward Alice. She smiled widely. It only baffled Edward more.
"Alice, what the hell was that?" But abruptly she began singing a Connie Francis song that she was fond of. And Edward was left with only that fleeting image he had before Alice closed him off.
In the vision, Edward's wild, bronze hair and prominent jaw were shadowed by the heavy branches of the lodgepole as he was kept captive by the river below. His body lurched as he hugged the sturdy tree, to get a better look at the bustling water. The rising sun shimmered off the crisp waves, like diamonds in lavender, and there was a figure at the bank. The sounds of pebbles grinding against weight above them pricked Edward's ears. What it was or what the figure was doing was blurry. Yet more confusing still, Edward was smiling.
Alice's cryptic vision left Edward with dozens of questions. And if there was one thing that was true about Edward, both as a human and immortal, curiosity was his Achilles' Heel. It was with this fact that Edward, dressed in light jeans, boots, and a grey baseball shirt, ran toward the western ridge of their home near Biddle.
After tackling some local bison, the likes of which one massive bull with horns like iron took a good chunk out of Edward's shirt, he decided to wash off the evidence of his hunt in the local river. Leisurely he strolled along the bank, looking for the most secluded part. The gentle rustling of the water or sporadic clip of fish breaking the surface fell in with his thoughts—thoughts that revolved around Alice's vision. He would have been lying if he had said that he didn't wonder every couple of paces if that was the location of where he would find the haze that her precognition masked.
All around him the smell of the last of winter's snow, which at this elevation had yet to melt completely as it had in the nearest city, welcomed him. Edward had always loved the outdoors, and the open mountainous range of Montana was one of his favorite locations. Everything was so crisp and beautiful; the bold cerulean and pale peach of the sky that was sprinkled with cumulus cotton; the new dark green budding of the Ponderosa Pines and the Box Elders. Every so often the sounds of deer bounding pierced his subconscious. But it was the smell of wet soil, from the dew of the morning and the lingering snow, and new grass—new growth . . . the proof of life's cycle, that always captivated him.
More often than not, Edward went hunting for the experience and not out of necessity. Edward had amazing control, second only to Carlisle. Therefore Edward didn't need to hunt as often as other vampires of his kind, the golden-eyed, vegetarians that fed on animal blood. But more that he chose to: because out here he was free.
Carelessly, wrapped in his thoughts of the beautiful land, Edward continued his stroll along the embankment of the river when other thoughts crept into his mind. They shocked him, as the last thing he expected was to run into another being . . . a human out this far. Opening his nostrils, he picked up the succulent scent of human blood, distinct to any smell in the world.
More alert, Edward focused on the thoughts that pierced his psyche. It was one voice, a male, and judging by the pitch and topics, a young male, not but a few hundred yards away. Abruptly Edward was burdened with the reality that he would have to turn around. He silently cursed this human for ruining his morning run and hunt.
Yet it was the next thoughts that had Edward changing his mind without even realizing.
They want me a go to the Army. I ain't even too sure what I want. But the Army?
The vibrant memory that accompanied those thoughts turned Edward's feet in a different direction. The young man, in torn denim and no shirt, his broad chest, almost a rich copper from spending so much time in the sun, glistened with sweat in the fleeting rays, remembered speaking to his father. The two had spent the day plowing, it was a particularly tough patch and they needed to do it by hand. As they worked, the young man's father, hair the color of the rusty plow in his hand, but thinning out into an elongated forehead, spoke of what he wanted for his son. He expressed his desire for the son to get out of their small life, make a good living so that they could afford the ranch they worked on. They would one day own it, and then the young man would work with his father in their land in some place called Lightning Flat . . . northern Wyoming apparently. Edward didn't know the location, but wondered as to why the young man was now in Montana. But it was the look on the young man's father's face that had him torn in indecision. The look in those old, worn out, tired eyes that pleaded with the son to make something more of his life than what he had. It caused a pressure in the young man's chest and a new found respect of his father, though it would not make up for and change much of the past. The young man's father was hard to please and quick to jump temper, and often he was the brunt of the old man's anger. But this experience . . . memory was different.
The year of Edward's illness he himself was contemplating joining the Army and fighting in the war. There wasn't a war—so to speak—currently, but he found himself understanding the young man's dilemma. The young man's thoughts revolved around his parents and their financial burdens. They were exceptionally poor ranch workers that lived on the owner's land where they worked. He too was an only child, as Edward had once been. And the more Edward listened, the more he found himself intrigued with the similarities between himself and this young man. Without even noticing, he was walking toward the timbre of that voice in his mind.
It was a gritty masculine voice, like gravel under feet or a plow on rough terrain. A voice that couldn't be any older than nineteen; yet with its tone alone expressed years of a hard life and work that was just as firm. But there was a subtle touch of youthful curiosity and awe to it, making that voice even that much more appealing to Edward. It was the voice of freedom and possibilities and hope and wonder, and to the half a century old vampire there was nothing better.
Pictures of the young man's parents' home on the dusty ranch flittered through both their minds. The young man was recalling his life. There was a resonance of sadness in those thoughts, as if the choices of his future would somehow negate the past. Edward didn't understand it, but he wanted to.
As a child the young man was very outgoing. Edward watched as a small, shaggy brown haired boy pulled on frilly dresses of the girls who attended his church. He watched as he made jokes behind the teacher's back as he sat at his black study-desk in a classroom. With unidentified interest Edward watched, as the young man did, this life. How, at the tender age of fourteen he quit attending school to become a ranch-hand like his father, even though he was far smarter than those few classmates, as demonstrated by the clever pranks he pulled and his ability to never get caught.
But the young man, whose firm hands were nicked and scared from work, despised ranch-handling. Yet he wasn't too fond of the idea of joining the military. Those were his two options, however. At least that was how the young man felt. He felt trapped, utterly and completely trapped. And if anyone knew what it felt like to be trapped it was Edward Masen who was forced to take the name Cullen because he indeed was trapped.
In that moment Edward felt envy toward the young man. It wasn't a feeling uncommon to Edward, but there was just something different about it this time. It could have been that the young man, with short hair the color of wet soil, reminded him so much of himself when he was younger. It could have been that the two seemed to face similar crossroads in their youth. Or it could have been that every emotion the young man expressed through his thoughts Edward knew, tenfold. But whatever it was, Edward envied the young man. And in his envy he found only respect because of it, because he was able to envy him so. Everything about this young man immediately interested Edward.
He wanted to know what the young man looked like now. Not as the child and youth that he saw in his memories. He wanted to know how old he was exactly. He wanted to know why he felt as if the military weren't the option for him. But most of all, Edward wanted to know what was the option for the young man. What option would his heart pick if he were able?
Again, it was Edward's curiosity that got the best of him. Soon, on feet that were magnets to where the young man was, Edward found himself in a tree high above the river looking down at it. The young man was laundering his clothes in the clean water while his thoughts revolved around his worries.
The young man was nude, and Edward could only make out his back and a thick head of short brown hair. Muscles in the young man's back and arms constricted and moved fluidly as he washed his clothes with some stones and soap. The young man was in excellent physical condition, not too muscular, but not thin that Edward would believe the man wasn't worth his weight in manual labor. His legs weren't very long, but his torso was. And, judging by the random scars scattered across the man's body and tan across his neck and arms, it was obvious the young man had known his share of challenging work in his short life.
Edward had seen many men in his lifetime. Yet there was something about this one that looked different. Felt different. Edward couldn't help but believe it was because of Edward's knowledge of the young man's most intimate thoughts that molded his perception of the young man's looks. Whatever the case was, Edward couldn't deny that the man looked appealing and truly was attractive.
The young man wrung out the shirt he was washing and then dipped it again. This time he wrung it out over his face, which he tilted up toward the morning sky. With his hands he scrubbed his face before a sigh flittered across his lips. It was a sigh of yearning for something more and when he opened his eyes and stared out at the rich landscape around him the same yearning built in his mind.
It was the young man's next thoughts that had forever changed everything.
It don't matter much. I just a won't go back. I'll just stay here and live here.
It was the same choice Edward would have made. It was the choice Edward made, daily when he felt trapped and needed to escape. He went out here, to the beautiful land and lost himself, just as the young man had and wanted to do. And for the first time in decades—not out of malice or patronization, but genuine contentment—Edward smiled.
"So, you've got a new friend, huh?" Alice asked as she skipped around Edward. More like . . . hobby, thought Edward.
Alice simply shook her short black head. She was still wearing it in finger waves as she had during most of the fifties. But her love of dresses and current fads of the new decade made her wardrobe decadent. Currently she was in a conservative, blue, lace number; and she refused to conform to the simplicity of country life.
A mile-wide smile engulfed her pointy face as she continued skipping around an Edward who had given up reading once the little pixie came bursting into his room. Yet he couldn't find it in himself to be angry with her. And that was precisely the reason that she found herself in his room.
Lately, Jasper had clued his wife in on Edward's lack of total disdain. It wasn't utter happiness on his part, but a day hadn't gone by where Edward wasn't morose. And so his most recent behavior was as noticeable as a flashing sign. All the vampires of the Cullen Coven were ecstatic about the change. Yet none, save a little pixie named Alice, knew the reason for Edward's bizarre emotional transformation.
Imagine the look on Esme, his mother's face, when three days ago he jogged down the stairs and placed a hearty kiss on her cheek. Or picture Carlisle's surprise when Edward kept company with him just to talk, about nothing of importance, simply to keep his company. Not to mention his interest in what he once perceived as "Jasper's ridiculous military obsessions".
But most noticeable, was the smile that somehow found itself perched on the tips of Edward's lips, teasing in its secret knowledge, and wouldn't leave.
That energy radiated among all of them, and there was genuine happiness with all the members of the Cullen home for the first time ever. It was daunting and refreshing and every last one of them hoped that it wouldn't lift like morning fog only to reveal it was all just a hoax. To a family that had always been on pins and needles around the mind reader this was more than a welcomed change.
However, none failed to notice that for the past two weeks Edward departed late in the evening and didn't return until the first rays of the morning sun had whispered across the horizon. Yet none were willing to question the actions for fear that it would ruin Edward's new found good mood.
Edward, however, believed that nothing could ruin his new found hobby. As that was what he called it. The young man permeated everything about Edward. He brought him back to life, brought Edward new life even if the young man wasn't aware of his existence.
Lately, though, Edward was beginning to feel restless. It had been two weeks since he had discovered the young man camping out in the southwestern ridge of Montana, out by Tongues. Since that early morning he had returned each night to watch over the young man.
To listen in on his dreams would be more accurate. They fascinated Edward. With each new facet of the young man—who was called Jack Twist—that was revealed to Edward, he became more and more engrossed in him. Yet with all the knowledge he had obtained, he still had unanswered questions because dreams were the subconscious and Edward craved to know Jack Twist in the conscious as well.
He wanted to ask him his millions of questions. Hundreds of which became prevalent since Edward had started watching Jack's dreams.
Jack's subconscious was a mesmerizing place. It was safe to say that it was Edward's favorite place. He loved living vicariously through Jack's dreams, through those that he couldn't have. It felt as if Edward himself were dreaming. That was the bulk of it. Edward felt as if he himself were dreaming. Edward felt as if he himself were living. Jack had brought Edward back to life, and nothing had ever been sweeter.
With a smile on his face and a yearning in his cold heart, Edward now faced the world. A world he wasn't as malignant about being a part of.
Often Edward put himself in Jack's dreams during the day as he recalled them, when he couldn't be near Jack because of the sun. One facet of these dreams that was reoccurring was Jack's love of the county fair and local rodeos that were held every summer; an experience that Edward had never had.
Jack enjoyed bull riding, the rush of a start-stop adrenaline pump in his heart as he clenched the saddle's horn. Jack was quite the adventure seeker. Some dreams consisted of him as an actual participant in the show, as opposed to watching in the stands, which he had done since a young age as his family took some of their ranch's cows for the contests. Jack would sneak away for the bull riding contest. Nervously, as he saddled up to the caged animal, Jack's blue eyes darted around the ocean of faces in the stands cheering and hollering.
These dreams were Edward's favorite, because he knew they were Jack's as his subconscious elation was palpable, even to the vampire who watched on with an unforeseeable nostalgia. The look on Jack's chiseled face was priceless. His striking blue eyes blazed with a vibrancy that could only be achieved by happiness. As Jack stared out at the full stands of cheering people and waved his hand, scraped and bloodied from the riding, his jeans covered in dirt from the fall, and sweat running down his face, he had never been happier. And Edward felt every emotion as Jack did through those dreams. He felt the jubilation and the excitement of riding the bull, but most importantly of receiving an award stating that he was indeed the best. They both smelled the dust and conquered animal in the air; it was a smell that Jack loved and thus so did Edward.
Jack even dreamed of owning his own county fair or rodeo where he would create other contests. Contests he excelled at of course—certain "dangerous" horse riding spectacles and other bull events. Even a new contest modeled after old jousting.
In his dreams, Jack would always dress in some ridiculous stage outfit. Fringe leather chaps and an American flag button up shirt with an actual flag tied around his light cowboy hat. A belt buckled two sizes too big for his belt and as shiny as the gleam in Jack's eyes. It was the outfits that made the dream. It gave dream Jack the actual feeling that they were reality because these were outfits that Jack, the young man, never wore . . . could never fathom affording. But Jack the prized, dare-devil, bull rider was extravagant and wealthy because of his skill and talent. He was admired and revered among all; loved by women and envied by men.
But that brought the most troubling of thoughts to the forefront of Edward's mind. Some of Jack's dreams were confusing, and not just to Edward. Jack was at a point in his life when he felt the most confused. And Edward knew, from the timbre and theme of some of Jack's dreams, that this was the biggest reason Jack felt trapped.
Jack didn't feel normal. Jack felt guilty . . . he felt wrong.
Many of these troubling dreams were similar. He was at school, in town, a rodeo, or at the local bar and he found some beautiful woman to entertain him for the night—in some instances only a brief hour. But while his body drove into the willing warmth of the women of his dreams, Jack imagined a faceless young man from the ranch. What started off as a woman morphed into masculine grunts and a thick, musky scent. It bombarded Jack's senses, and he was drowning in a river where he wanted to be submerged but feared what would happen.
Soon it was the young man who was driving into Jack's willing warmth. And Jack was more than willing. It always seemed that Jack, in his dreams, couldn't reach climax unless he envisioned the broad torso and sculpted shoulders of this faceless man . . . of a man. It excited Jack and he craved the hard chest against his back, strong hands digging into his hips. These were the thoughts that plagued Jack most.
Often Jack would wake up and curse to himself viciously. He came from a church going family. It was no secret that in his life such things weren't ever discussed because they were amoral, they were sinful, they were dirty. He knew such thoughts were repugnant; such feelings were wrong. He knew what others would think if they knew, how he would be an outcast if he was lucky, dead if he wasn't. It was a terrific reality. Yet why did it have to feel so right to Jack? Guilt and shame choked him like dust in lungs from working on the land all day, and Edward could only watch from his privy spot as these thoughts ate at Jack's strong and confident character. Slowly they were destroying the beautiful man that Jack was because he neither felt like a man nor worthy of all that a man deserved. But the more Jack fought against these thoughts and desires, the stronger and more detailed the dreams became. And Jack's lust was rising with each erotic reverie.
And in a part of Jack's mind, that part that all humans have and care not to admit, the part where he locked up his deepest secrets and worries, Jack knew that these feelings were who he was. It terrified, shamed, embarrassed, and disheartened him; and he didn't know what to do. Disgrace weighed his eyes down, desperation darkened them, and sadness stole his jovial smile.
It was Jack's biggest secret. And a large component of Edward hated that he was privy to it, it was something so completely private about Jack. Something that troubled Jack so much that it affected Edward drastically as well.
Jack was everything to Edward; Edward's childhood curiosity; Edward's youthful hope; Edward's sentiments and thoughts and dreams. He felt as if he and Jack were one. Everything about Jack was cause for everything in Edward's life. It was as simple as that.
Edward genuinely cared for Jack on a level that he couldn't even explain. He was protective of the young man; he wanted the young man to have all that his heart desired; to have the life and future that was denied to Edward. But not just any life, Edward wanted more than anything, needed, Jack's happiness. It was Edward's newfound motivation in his eternal life, a life that was now worth living. He would live it for Jack, to do whatever in his power to give Jack a chance at true happiness.
Edward had never felt such a strong conviction towards another, not even Carlisle whom he thought he had grown to love as a father, or Alice with whom he shared, willing or not, his most private thoughts. But what he felt for the young man far superseded anything he had ever felt for another. The sentiments shocked him, and yet he embraced them wholly. They gave him meaning. And so this secret of Jack's troubled Edward deeply because he didn't want Jack to feel so trapped . . . so guilty or ashamed.
Edward, unlike Jack however, had a much different belief on the entire situation. Which would have been shocking knowing his past as a respectable youth of the nineteen hundreds, but it was Edward's years as an immortal that changed his perception on the morality of humans.
And Edward had no idea how to express this to Jack. He wished he could somehow communicate with the lost young man. Because Edward knew better than anyone what it was like to live unhappily. To Edward, it didn't matter what made you happy, simply that you were. Conventions, standards . . . beliefs be damned. Edward had lived over fifty years to learn that—especially for Jack—life was short and filled only with simple happiness. And if you were too self-righteous to let them pass you by then you didn't deserve them.
And Jack wasn't self-righteous, simply lost and torn. And he did deserve every happiness allotted to him.
More than anything Edward wished to convey this to Jack. Edward needed to express this to Jack: that there was nothing to be ashamed of in himself. That Edward had known the minds of hundreds of humans and none had been as free and as energetic and jovial and compassionate and responsible and decent as Jack's. This was what mattered. Jack's preference in sexuality wasn't. And with each day that passed Edward grew restless, was more and more compelled to express this sentiment to Jack.
He was contemplating the unthinkable.
"I've seen it," Alice had said to Edward early that evening, as he readied for his nightly run. With that Alice let Edward glimpse at her vision. It appeared Edward would finally break his own rule: He was going to interact with a human.
To say that Edward wasn't nervous was a complete understatement. Edward's nerves were on high alert and his anticipation was tangible. He was going to talk to Jack, to his Jack. To the human he knew intimately in ways that other humans may never know. To the human that had captivated his life and gave him reason.
Edward was elated . . . and anxious. His eyes blazed with light, not able to focus on one thing; his hand ran feverishly over his strong forearms and smoothed out the sweatshirt he was wearing as a means of capturing some of his abundant energy. He had never felt like this before . . . so human.
As Edward ran, the chilling evening air rushed through his wild, bronze hair, making it more disarrayed than usual. It was common in this decade to slick hair back with lots of product, but Edward reveled in the moments when the air around him could run through it like fingers from a lover. The further south Edward reached the colder the evening air became. Tongues River hugged him on his right, the hills to his left. The soft scent of the mountainous night engulfed him and he filled his lungs with the crisp pine and moonlight kissed smell. His legs eventually brought him to the one place they longed to be. His whole body was on autopilot as he found the trees surrounding Jack's campsite.
Jack's horse stirred—a pinto mare named Vixen. The modest camp had only a few iron casts out for cooking, the thin tent, although it was filled with blankets, and some clothes drying on a line. The last of Jack's whiskey and harmonica were next to the fire that was dying out. Jack sometimes played and sang songs to Vixen. Edward found it grossly amusing, even if the pitch was questionable.
Jack had been out in the land for a little over two weeks and he still had yet to decide his future. He had already run out of his cigarettes, and the whiskey was soon going to be gone as well; he'd have to pack it in before long. He had hoped that maybe an epiphany or something would come to him, but it hadn't. And since Jack did his best thinking surrounded by Mother Nature's beauty, he stayed out here. He knew when he returned home his old man would beat him good for staying out longer than expected when he had money to earn, which could possibly be a reason for camping longer as well. But he just wasn't ready to go back.
Always keen to his surroundings, as any man worth his weight out here should be, Jack noticed Vixen start to fuss. With a strong hand he grabbed the shotgun next to him where he laid as he sat up, giving his eyesight time to adjust from waking.
A rustling off to the left caught Jack's immediate attention. He quickly darted to his feet and out the tent. The noise was deliberate as Edward didn't know how best to announce his presence. Edward heard through Jack's thoughts about just how many bullets he had left, and Jack's suspicion of what could have caused the sounds.
It was something big and not too light on the feet. If it was a bear Jack would be more than ready. Jack wasn't too fond of bear meat, it was too tough, but Jack had never been raised to waste food when it was available to him. Jack had run out of the venison three days ago.
Edward decided to cough a couple times, as all Jack's thoughts revolved around animals.
"Who's out there? You best show yourself?" Jack said as he clocked the shotgun. The sound of the snap echoed off the silent trees.
It was the first time Edward had ever heard Jack's voice in person and not in his mind. It was slightly different, deeper and grittier. Edward smiled as even more tiny facets of Jack revealed themselves to him.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I'm lost and I saw the fire," Edward began as he came out from his hiding with his hands held in the air. "I was hoping maybe I could stay here until the sun comes up and I find my way?"
Jack's eyes roamed over Edward and his mind doubted heavily the lie Edward came up with. Where's his stuff?
Internally Edward was proud of just how intelligent Jack really was. Jack pointed the heavy gun directly at Edward's head. Jack was not interested in getting robbed of his horse.
"How'd you get lost?" Jack asked. Edward, who had the advantage of Jack's thoughts, knew that he would doubt everything he would present, as Edward didn't have any supplies. Edward mentally scolded his human incompetence.
"Yeah, you've caught me. I was camping not too far from here with my girlfriend and we got into a fight. While I was sleeping she took most everything and the truck. I woke up freezing. I thought she might have been playing a trick so I went looking around and then got lost. Saw your fire and decided to come this way. Sorry if I've put you out, but I don't mean any harm, honest." Edward tried his best to sound as he had heard other men from the area.
Jack's brown eyebrows narrowed as he took in Edward's appearance. Jack found himself thinking that Edward didn't look threatening. Edward was in some jeans, didn't even have holes or were scuffed up, and a sweatshirt that looked new. Jack knew he was dressed too thin for the night, which only added to his understanding of Edward's lie. Jack found himself noticing the stranger's smooth hands and tall stance from an erect back that hadn't been broken by years of labor. Jack immediately knew that the stranger was well off; he chuckled at the fleeting thought that maybe he should rob him instead.
Maybe she did take everything. Nobody be caught dead in that come nightfall.
Edward inwardly rejoiced at the small fortunate turn his thoughts were taking.
"Don't know what all I can offer you. But you welcome a stay by the fire til morning." Edward nodded his head graciously as he dropped his arms and went to a large log by the dwindling fire. Sitting down, Edward smiled at Jack.
Jack didn't return it but he did lower the gun.
It was then that Jack noticed the stranger's otherworldly looks—the vibrant gold eyes, the pale skin, almost translucently haloed. Jack didn't recognize him but he wasn't from around these parts. Lightning Flat was a small community and he knew the small cities up north of Wyoming, in the mountain country of Montana, were just as small. Jack found himself wondering why he had never met the stranger, word of wealthy people always traveled well, and if anything he would have seen him at some of the rodeos or fairs. He studied his strong face and slightly crooked nose. He had a chiseled jaw line and prominent neck muscles. The stranger had a thick head of unruly light brown hair that, when the fire flickered, looked auburn at times. Jack thought the stranger was very attractive. And again he was plagued by that tiny pierce from the back of his mind that he tried adamantly to demolish. Jack mentally scolded himself for acknowledging the stranger's good looks, and even more for noticing that the dark sweater he wore hugged his fit chest snuggly, just as his jeans left little to the imagination.
God, I'm disgusting.
It was at that thought that Edward spoke up; he hated that Jack would think such horrible things about himself.
"Thanks for being so kind. I don't know the area well, my family just moved out here not but a couple of months ago." Jack thought that it was rather soon to go camping with a girlfriend, especially if you're rich, didn't know the area, and probably have never gone camping before. He wondered what the girl was like and why she would have agreed to this stupid idea. Maybe they didn't know each other well or she wasn't all that interested in him, just to leave him. Then Jack doubted that thought considering how attractive the stranger was; he probably easily enticed partners.
Jack had similar luck in that department. Many local girls found their fancy in Jack. He was a tall and sculpted man, one hell of a specimen if Jack did say so himself. And his mischievous blue eyes were enough to keep the girls coming back for more. He was fun and knew how to show a girl a good time. Both Jack and Edward internally smiled at those thoughts.
"I was just thinking that I didn't recognize you. I'm Jack Twist," Jack said as he sat down on the same log and extended his hand to Edward. It didn't escape Edward's notice that the shotgun was placed right next to Jack, just in case. When Edward clasped Jack's hand firmly Jack took note of how cold Edward was. "It's a good thing you're 'round this fire. She left you pretty cold, right?"
Both men laughed at the double meaning.
"Yeah, that she did. I'm Edward Masen." What came out of Edward's mouth shocked him. It was the first time he acknowledged his past self. And yet it felt right with Jack. He wanted Jack to know the man Edward was when he was a man, not this . . . thing.
"Good a meet you Edward. I don't got much a eat, but you welcome a what I've got. I ran out of venison earlier in the week, but the biscuits are still good, bit stale. Got some jam too. I was actually hoping you were a bear earlier. I'm so hungry I could eat me a bear," he said in a slight chuckle. He ran his hand through his short brown hair as he smiled at Edward.
Edward found himself comforted by the fact that Jack was a man who vocalized most his thoughts. He was immediately pleased with his choice to come out here and meet Jack tonight. As the prickling of flames to the fire increased Edward crooked a smile. Jack had added another log.
"So what are you doing out here?" Edward asked the first of his millions of questions for Jack. Jack wondered the same thing about Edward honestly. But instead Jack just sighed and tilted his head up at the night sky, which had darkened since Edward had left to run.
The action caused Edward to do the same. And a blanket of sparkling stars covered them. The two were silent as they took in the evening around them, the distant howl of a coyote and the breeze that carried with it the smell of the pines. In that moment both Edward and Jack had the same thought: It sure was beautiful out tonight.
After a while Jack answered Edward, even though he already had with his thoughts. Edward still reveled in the words slipping from Jack's thin lips.
"I really don't know. I just . . . I like it out here, let's me think. Ya know?" Edward nodded; he did know.
"How old are you?" Edward couldn't help it. Jack narrowed one eyebrow in amusement.
"You sure are a curious fucker." Both men chuckled. Jack had no idea just how true that was.
"I'm seventeen and you?" Edward had told him the same as he watched Jack kick the log in the flames. He smiled earnestly as he finally had one of the questions that ate at him answered.
Both men spent the better portion of the night conversing. And if Edward had thought he felt free in Jack's thoughts, it was nothing compared to being in Jack's presence. Jack had a welcoming personality. His joviality and passion for life were contagious. Edward thought he could spend a lifetime in the company of someone as amazing as Jack Twist.
The two joked and shared stories and experiences. Edward knew the right questions to ask to get Jack to open up more. Edward "confessed" his love of the rodeo and once that door was opened Jack's energy just couldn't be contained. He leaned comfortably against the log, turned towards Edward when he talked, and grabbed his shoulder when he laughed heartily or wanted to emphasize a point. Edward was aware that as the night progressed Jack's trust in him built.
Jack vocalized many of the thoughts that Edward had already knew, yet it was as if it was the first time he had ever heard them. There was something about the zeal in Jack's eyes or the way he flailed his arms when he was telling an exaggerated story. As all Jack's stories were a bit exaggerated, but he was a storyteller. Edward learned this from his time with Jack tonight; something that he would never have learned from just Jack's thoughts alone.
Jack Twist was an excellent storyteller. It was as if you were there in the action with him. Edward couldn't help smiling along as Jack told him about the time he was supposed to brand a couple of the new cows at the ranch and one of the bigger ones had caught the better of him. He couldn't walk straight for a week after that. A mean bitch she was, Jack had said. Both men laughed.
And when Edward had confessed his wanting to join the military but his parents' refusal, Jack found himself captivated by the stranger. Jack had never met anyone like this Edward Masen. He carried this air of privilege and endowment, was more than obviously blessed with stuff that Jack only dreamed of one day earning, and yet he felt he wasn't up to standard.
Weren't all rich people supposed to feel superior? At least that was Jack's experience, but nothing about this stranger was like that. There was a small hunch in his shoulders as if he carried the weight of the world on them and a sadness in his eyes that didn't seem to fit his looks or clothing at all. Weren't all rich people supposed to be happy?
Edward Masen spoke like no one Jack had ever known, and not only in some funny accent. He used fancy words and not just to impress people, like Jack knew some town's folk did. Edward was an intelligent man; he had experience and knowledge that almost made Jack feel as if Edward was older than he had told Jack, though he didn't look much older. And Edward was fascinating. He had so many stories to tell Jack. Edward's family traveled around a lot, and when he told Jack about the vibrant purple fashions of New York or the loud fresh fish markets of Oregon, or even the difference in the air—the smell, the stickiness, the taste—between salt water and fresh, Jack was completely engrossed. Jack had never considered leaving Lightning Flat up until then, but suddenly found himself wanting more than anything to see what else was out there in the world.
Jack couldn't help but feel a kinship to the stranger; it was as if he had known him always. The two had many similarities, even in their mannerisms. The way they would smirk when a private thought captured them or how they both felt that they just weren't good enough for what was given to them, yet they wanted something more. And Edward felt just as trapped as Jack did.
Jack's thoughts revolved around what Edward had told him and the conversation the two men had had. And when Edward reheard the words that had been spoken to Jack, through Jack's thoughts with his own opinions added, Edward couldn't believe he had shared so much. Edward had shared things with Jack that he hadn't shared with another soul. He had even shared what fleeting memories he had of his parents; how they loved him and how blessed he was; how they wanted only the best for him; yet now Edward realized how unappreciative he was because all he could imagine was getting out on his own. In just one night Jack was able to cut to the quick of it.
The feeling left Edward bare. He felt naked in front of Jack and he found he didn't care at all. He wanted Jack to know him as intimately as Edward knew Jack.
As the late night encroached, Jack began to drift off to sleep. He offered Edward some blankets to cover him while Jack went back into the tent. That night Edward was pleased to find that he was in the stands of the audience at Jack's bull riding contest. He finally was a part of the dreams.
However, close to dawn another dream captured Jack that stunned Edward.
It started off as the usual. Jack was standing in the middle of a dusty ring; a bull was slamming into the white wooden gate off to his right. Jack was wearing khaki chaps over his dark jeans and a dark blue button up shirt. He was waving his cowboy hat in the air as the crowd cheered. A small blonde in the front row smiled at him insinuatingly and Jack winked.
His thoughts were on how beautiful the petite blonde was. Not too long after he was walking through the parking lot to a shiny new red car that he had purchased with his earnings in other contests. The small blonde, who was wearing a shapely brown dress with her breasts on prominent display, was leaning against the driver side door.
Jack smiled at her and she giggled. He spoke something charming in her ear, his hot breath tickling her neck and telling her in more ways than one that he wanted her company. After more coy teasing on her part, the girl got into the backseat of his car with him. It was an incredibly roomy backseat and Jack's hands began to roam over her small, shapely body.
His lips traveled over her cheek and to her soft mouth. When his mouth found hers, willing and warm, he devoured her. His blue eyes closed and he immersed himself in the kiss. As he pulled away, catching his breath, he opened his eyes. And the girl was no longer under him; it was the faceless man of his dreams.
Jack's calloused hand ran up the jaw of the faceless man. The two stared deep into one another's eyes as if searching for something more . . . wanting something more. Jack wanted to know who the faceless man was, and the faceless man wanted only Jack.
I need you, the faceless man's eyes said.
Jack licked his lips and leaned into the faceless man's lips, his warm breath caressed over his face, hot and wanting. Jack drove his hips under him, his growing erection pressing into the man's. Jack felt the man responding to Jack's grinding as his own erection grew. It was thick and prominent and Jack licked his lips again.
The faceless man smiled as his hands went to the buttons of Jack's shirt. With each inch of Jack's chest that was exposed, as his hands unbuttoned the shirt, both men trembled in this sensation that was bigger than them.
Jack had never wanted anyone like he had wanted this man. Roughly Jack's hands went into the thick locks of the man's hair, pulling it and crashing his lips to him. Their mouths molded together as if they were a perfect fit. Their breath was one and Jack tasted that bit of heaven that was always granted to him by this man's lips. Breathless he pulled away once more and this time a pair of golden eyes stared back at him.
The jaw that he had been caressing earlier was the strong chiseled one of the man he had just met. And his hand was tugging on soft bronze locks. The apparition startled Jack for a second, his eyes narrowed, but Edward simply smiled that crooked smile that he had used all night. Jack didn't need more of an invitation.
But in case the point hadn't been made Edward lifted up from where he lay on the seat, removed his shirt, and pulled Jack's willing, hot mouth to his. Both men groaned at the sensation of their passion finding the fire it needed to consume them.
When Jack's tongue dove into Edward's mouth he moaned. The sound went straight to Jack's straining erection. And he couldn't wait any longer. He needed Edward. In rushed movements, both Jack and Edward removed the rest of their clothing.
Edward, I need you, Jack thought. Both Jack and Edward knew there was more weight to those words then just their surface value. Edward nodded as he flipped Jack over, straddling him from behind.
Edward peppered kisses along Jack's back as his hands grabbed Jack's hips to align himself with Jack's entrance. His hand snaked around Jack's front and grabbed his erection and pumped it in his hand.
Jack moaned and bucked back into Edward, pressing his ass into Edward's erection and hips. Both men groaned at the feeling. Edward brought his hand to his mouth and licked it copiously, spreading as much saliva as possible before bringing the same hand back between Jack's ass and probing his hole. Jack swallowed a strained voice as Edward spread him with two fingers gently.
As the rhythm of Edward's fingers increased, Jack's hand went to his own erection and he began pumping in time with Edward. The sight of Edward's fingers entering Jack caused Edward to groan and stroke his own cock in wanton preparation. After what felt like too long, Edward decided that Jack was as prepared as possible and he positioned the head of his cock at Jack's entrance, slowly thrusting forward.
Jack's grip on his cock tightened as he bit his lip. Edward pushed more until he was finally seated fully inside of Jack. Both men paused as they absorbed the sensation, and when the buildup became too much Edward began to pull out only to thrust back in, deeper.
Jack's moans and Edward's grunts filled the car as Jack resumed his pumping. Jack had never felt this complete before. And he knew it wasn't just Edward's thick cock that did the filling, it was the sense that he knew Edward. That the faceless man wasn't faceless any longer . . . but more than that he had a connection with Edward that meant more than physical.
As Edward was consumed in this dream of Jack's, his body was responding in ways that he had never expected. With each heady pant that passed through Jack's swollen lips, Edward felt a part of him stir that never had before. It was shocking, and confusing . . . and arousing.
Edward watched as Jack's dream became more heated and passionate and his own cock began to twitch; soon he felt it straining against his jeans. Edward looked down at his anatomy incredulously. And for the first time in his life he needed to touch himself.
Hesitantly, Edward unbuckled his belt and the buttons to his jeans. A spike in his conscious caught him with his hands rimming the edge of his pants. He couldn't believe he was about to do this, out in the open, but it was a heavy moan from Jack's dream that persuaded him.
Edward pushed the blanket off himself and his jeans and underwear down. His erection sprang to life as he freed it. Slowly his hand went to the head. He spread his palm over the tip and groaned at the sensation. It felt so good.
The sounds from Jack's dream egged Edward on further. And for the first time Edward truly understood Jack. Edward could not help feeling wrong and shameful as he palmed his cock, which was larger than even he expected.
Things like lust and desire never crossed Edward's mind. He wasn't immune to these things, as they were large facets of many humans' thoughts, but Edward had almost believed he was asexual, as ridiculous as that seemed. He wasn't attracted to women and he wasn't attracted to men. He had never been attracted to anyone.
Was that what this was now, Edward wondered. Was he finally attracted to someone?
It didn't repulse Edward that the person he would find himself attracted to happened to be a man. It would figure that it would be a mind that ultimately led to the mind reader's attraction; it wasn't that he was asexual . . . simply that what mattered to Edward—what drew him in—was on another level completely: the psyche. Given Edward's fascination and compassion for Jack, it made sense to him . . . but it was these feelings that confused him.
It was this whole new intensity to his need to be with Jack. As that was what it had always been. At first it was Edward's need to be in Jack's thoughts. Then it was Edward's need to be in Jack's dreams. Later Edward's need to be in Jack's company . . . now did he need to be in Jack's passion?
As Edward watched himself eclipsed in ecstasy as he drove into Jack through Jack's dream, Edward wanted that. He wanted to feel that same ecstasy, but more than anything he wanted Jack to feel it. To have Jack know that there wasn't anything wrong with simple happiness, no matter what form it came in.
And it was this remembrance of Edward's previous thoughts that alleviated Edward himself of any shame or guilt he might have felt at what he was doing, what he would do. Edward gave into the sensation of his strong hand palming the tip of his cock, while he watched himself take Jack from behind. The two moved in perfect fluidity. Edward's long fingers drove into the flesh of Jack's hips, clawing in need. Jack's eyes burned with a fire that couldn't be quenched as his hand pumped his own engorged cock. Jack's back glistened with sweat. And Edward watched it all, felt it all, wanted it as he licked his lips.
Edward brought his hand to his mouth and licked his palm, as he had done in the dream, lubricating it. His hand engulfed his cock and he gradually circled his hand around his thick length, bringing it up slowly . . . languorously, memorizing every nerve tingle and twitch.
It was heaven. Every single sense was on high alert by all the triggers around him. His mind from the scene in Jack's dream; his ears from the moaning escaping his own tight lips; the smell of thick arousal in the air, so much so that the taste tickled Edward's lips; but most consuming was the feel of his hand as he pumped in earnest now, just as dream him thrusted deep into Jack's warmth.
Edward felt that warmth, and it radiated around his body. Throwing his head back in pleasure, Edward closed his eyes and focused more on his strokes as dream Jack's body clenched around Edward's length.
It was so tight and warm and wet and it was amazing. A deep seeded growl curled in Edward's chest as he pumped harder, every muscle in his cold body burning and constricting. Jack's back arched and his own pumping on his hard cock increased. Their pants filled the air and Edward couldn't distinguish between the dream and reality. Nor did he care to.
It just all felt too good.
Jack's breathy moans increased and Edward's hands dug into Jack's firm hips, squeezing to bring him deeper. Both men groaned as Jack's hand against the seat, propping himself up, clutched the upholstery. Edward felt the euphoric twitch of his oncoming release. Needing Jack to finish with him, Edward's hand wrapped around Jack's on his cock and pumped vigorously with the thrusts.
Edward, knowing every sensation of the warm wetness thrust in time with the dream, his own release on the cataclysmic edge. His teeth clenched and out of need and pure curiosity he licked his other hand before bringing one of his fingers to probe his puckered hole. The pressured sensation on that most intimate place was something Edward had never expected, the pleasure was so foreign.
His mind shot in vibrant colors, as he clenched more, so very close and needing to be pushed. His finger pressed more on that pleasure spot and the feeling was too great and exactly what Edward needed to climax. He spurted and twitched in his hand. Edward was breathing erratically, which he had no idea was even necessary, but he couldn't help it. And if he had a heartbeat he knew it would be chaotic. A loud scream erupted from his lips, a word he had never uttered in his entire life, but one he couldn't contain at the point of complete ecstasy.
Abruptly, and unaware to Edward, who was still riding the high of his release, Jack bolted out of the tent, shotgun in hand.
Sleep shadowed Jack's eyes, but the scene in front of him widened them and woke him up in a very real way. Edward was laying on one of the blankets Jack had given him with his semi-hard cock in his grip and his cum running down the strong, tensed, tendons of Edward's hand. His jeans were around his ankles and he was staring up at Jack with eyes that were no longer gold but a deep and penetrating black. There was a hunger in those eyes; it was a hunger that he recognized . . . that Jack yearned for, but it was the very same one that scared him to no end.
"What the fuck?" Jack said in an irritable sleep-clogged voice, through parched lips. Lips that Edward's eyes immediately focused on. He remembered the taste of those lips on his own as if he had actually had them. Edward licked his lips and wanted nothing more than to taste them. To Edward's amazement his cock twitched back to life in his hand.
Jack's eyes darted around the scene in front of him. His thoughts were racing all over the place. And it didn't escape his notice that he was sporting an erection of his own, from the morning and the amazing dream he had been woken up from abruptly before he could have what he wanted most. A dream that featured Edward.
Jack's eyes hooded as they lingered longer than what was respectable over Edward's strong chest, broad shoulders, thick neck, tense jaw, but it was those eyes that kept his stare. Those eyes spoke words that neither man would ever speak aloud; they stole the very air from Jacks lungs, his heart pounding in his chest. Those eyes left him trembling with need, his mouth dry and watering all at the same time. God, how Jack wanted Edward. Jack licked his lips, before biting the bottom one.
But it was wrong.
This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong. Jack's thoughts kept trying to reign in on what he knew to be true.
At vampiric speed, Edward leapt to his feet and had Jack pinned against the tree the tent was tied to. His hands dug into Jack's short brown hair, those eyes burrowing into him.
"It's not wrong," Edward growled before he crashed his lips to Jack's. Jack was caught off guard and still his thoughts fought this. His mind willed his body not to respond. But the ferocity of Edward's kiss consumed Jack. His heart beat erratically and his body molded to the one pushing forcefully against it, Edward's strong chest a weight that had Jack's breathing coming in desperate pants. And soon Jack was responding to that kiss with just as much fervor, his eyes closing in passion and his lips welcoming everything that Edward had to give. Edward reveled in his heady breath: whiskey and warmth.
Jack's hands went to those sculpted shoulders of Edward's that Jack had taken note of and gripped them tightly—his mind told him to push away, but his body brought Edward closer. Another guttural growl escaped Edward as he pushed Jack deeper against the tree, all of his carnal yearning drilling into Jack. Edward the predator's animal ferocity wanted to consume and conquer, needed to capture and own . . . to take what he needed most without any care of anything else.
The thick smell of arousal that seeped through the air around them penetrated all of Edward's senses and it unleashed the beast inside of him. Fleetingly he wondered what Jack's blood would taste like; a strong heartbeat pumped that succulent wine in a dizzying rhythm, a smell, that mixed with arousal was nothing short of heaven.
Edward's lips devoured all of Jack's thoughts and all that was left was his desire that was building tenfold as Edward drove his bare hips into Jack's waist. The aggressiveness of Edward's passion was driving Jack wild. Edward ground his now fully prominent erection into Jack as he clawed at his hair.
Jack's breath, a strong masculine warmth, swamped Edward's face and excited the animal in him more. It was better than the dream, a million times better. Just as hungry with a fierce need, Jack bit Edward's lip, pulling at it and Edward growled harder. The eroticism of that bite caused Edward to push his erection harder into Jack's pelvis. He would be damned if he was going to be safe with Jack. Both men gave into the fire that was blazing inside them. Edward's tongue penetrated Jack's willing, hot mouth and Jack moaned around the invasion.
While Edward kissed Jack, Jack's hands made work of the buttons on his shirt. They only broke the kiss to remove Edward's sweatshirt and Jack's shirt. But their hungry lips greedily found one another again. It was intense and passionate and they both felt as if no kiss would ever compare. When Jack bit Edward's lip again, Edward felt as though he couldn't take it any longer.
He left Jack's mouth hot and panting as Edward kissed down Jack's strong chest. A small patch of brown hair welcomed Edward, and he followed it down to the waist of Jack's jeans. Jack's hands gripped at the bark of the tree he was against as Edward sucked at small spots of skin above the buttons to Jack's jeans.
Their anticipation rose just as sure as the sun in the early dawn over this land that they both loved. Jack moaned when Edward's hand palmed over Jack's straining cock in his jeans. Edward teased more, knowing that the heightened sensation would drive Jack mad with lust.
With his lips between his teeth, Jack thrust his hips forward in Edward's hand, silently begging Edward to release his erection. The strain was building and he needed it free. Edward heard each thought of encouragement through Jack's mind and it only pushed Edward further.
Finally, Edward unbuttoned Jack's jeans and pushed them down. Jack was all too eager to step out of his jeans and underwear. Jack's magnificent cock sprang to life in front of Edward's eyes. He licked his lips as he took in the thick length, bulbous head and spattering of brown hair.
Edward's hand cupped Jack's balls as his tongue dipped out to taste the tip. There was a small drop of pre-ejaculate at the slit on top; Edward wondered if it would taste anything like blood. He had never tasted any other fluid from a human that wasn't blood. And human blood was the most immaculate taste there was. Would this fluid be just as sublime?
Edward's tongue circled the slit, before dipping into it a bit to pull the small amount of fluid. The action caused Jack to groan and drive his hands into Edward's thick bronze hair. As Edward rolled the taste around on his tongue his hand pumped Jack's impressive cock. Edward was right, the taste was intriguing, not as succulent as blood, but still very good. Edward then imagined that human fluids were incredibly luscious, as he remembered the taste of Jack's saliva as well. It made Edward's own venom pulse and fill his mouth and drip from the tip of his eager cock.
Edward wrapped his mouth around the head of Jack's cock, his eyes looking up along the standing man. Jack's eyes were clenching in euphoria and his hands were pulling at Edward's roots. The warmth radiated from Jack was incredible. Edward absorbed it willingly, but the warmth in his mouth from Jack's hot cock was indescribable. Edward moaned around Jack's length as he bobbed his head up and down.
It was then that Edward decided what he wanted most. He wanted . . . needed Jack to be a part of him, his warmth inside of him . . . penetrating him. One final moan and lick up Jack's length, Edward popped the head of Jack's cock out of his mouth.
He rose quickly to his feet and devoured Jack's mouth once again. This time Jack didn't hesitate to return the fierce kiss. Edward moved along Jack's jaw until he reached his ear. In a breathy moan Edward whispered to Jack.
"I need you."
Jack groaned as Edward tugged on Jack's earlobe with his lips. Jack roughly grabbed Edward's hips and pushed them into his erection. Edward let go of Jack's ear and turned around, pressing his ass into Jack's waist.
Through Jack's thoughts Edward saw his lust cloud his eyes. Jack licked his lips and shoved Edward forward toward the log by the blankets that Edward had been laying on earlier. Edward gladly fell to the ground on all fours from Jack's aggressive need, his body quivering in anticipation. Jack came up behind him quickly, running the head of his cock provocatively up and down Edward's back entrance. Both men groaned and as further incentive Edward pushed back against Jack's erection.
Abruptly Edward felt Jack spit and then he felt Jack's hands spread his saliva around Edward's entrance, a finger probing. Edward's cock twitched at the sensation. It didn't escape Edward's notice that this was complete role reversal from the dream. It was almost as if he had known Jack in every sense. And all of it excited him. He wanted to know Jack in every sense, in a level of intimacy that would leave them completely attached to the other.
Edward craved to be complete with Jack . . . mind and body.
Jack's finger thrust in and out of Edward's entrance before adding a second. Edward moaned and pushed his hips in rhythm with Jack's thrusting. Jack abruptly pulled his fingers out of Edward's ass and Edward growled at the loss of sensation.
The warmth of Jack's cock poked at Edward, and he felt himself stretching as Jack pushed forward. Through Jack's thoughts Edward saw him clenching and holding firmly to the urge not to thrust completely forward. But Jack was just a mere man consumed by lust and driven by need. His thrust was fierce and swift.
Jack's thick cock invaded Edward, leaving both men panting in pleasure.
Edward didn't know if it was because he was a vampire that he didn't feel pain or if it was because of Jack's warmth. But it was all so euphoric that Edward's hand went to his own cock and he began pumping along with Jack's thrusting.
Jack's large, rough hands grabbed Edward's hips to bring him flush against Jack's pelvis, going as deep as possible. Then Jack circled his hips, driving Edward mad at the new feeling. It was too much and Edward's pumping increased, he was so close. The dream didn't do the warmth justice. It was something he could not have ever imagined.
Edward found himself wondering why vampires weren't only with humans, the warmth was pure addiction: the sensations, the scents, the tastes, the sounds. Edward pushed his hips against Jack's thrusting, hoping to encourage Jack's oncoming release as well, because Edward wouldn't last any longer.
But it was when Jack leaned forward, his hot breath stroking Edward's neck, that caused Edward to pant ferociously. Jack moaned and roughly bit Edward's shoulder. That bite, the carnal need and animal inside of Jack, the one that grunted and clawed and left Edward's dead heart wanting nothing more than to beat frantically, pushed Edward to his orgasm. It was stronger than the one he had achieved earlier. Venom spurted from his twitching cock in constant streams. Behind Edward's closed eyes bursts of white shot like tremors down his spine. His ass muscles clenched with his release and the feeling was bringing Jack to his climax.
Hot. Tight . . . can't . . . ugh . . . .
Jake twitched inside of Edward as his own release shot out of him, filling Edward with more of that amazing warmth. Edward moaned at the stirring inside of him. Nothing had ever felt this good.
Jack was panting heavily behind him before he collapsed on top of Edward, his heady breaths wafting over Edward's back, his smell consuming Edward. And even sated Edward licked his lips.
Eventually Jack pulled out of Edward and both men hazily walked to the river to wipe away any remnants of their lust-driven coupling. Neither spoke. Jack's thoughts ran rampant of what to say, and Edward felt that it was best for Jack to come to terms with this before Edward said anything.
As both men washed in the freezing water of the river their smiles exuded. For as many condemnations that had passed through Jack's mind, his grin was not easily erased. Edward watched Jack wash his impressive body; lamentably he noticed a blue halo around him, the brightening of the dawning day.
Edward had no idea what to do or how to explain that he would need to leave soon, especially after what they had shared. Almost as if in an answer to his silent prayers—or more likely because of it—a voice rang throughout the trees.
Jack turned his head to Edward abruptly before turning towards the direction the woman's yell came from. Just as Edward was about to answer, Jack darted for the tent and began clothing. Edward went back to the camp and found his own clothes. As he was throwing his sweatshirt over his head he saw Jack's thoughts.
Jack was emerging from the tent fully clothed and licked his lips as he caught sight of water running down Edward's chest. Edward crooked a smile.
The yelling female voice was closer now.
"Who the hell is that?" Jack asked. But before Edward was able to respond Alice came bouncing out from the trees and ran at human pace up to Edward, throwing her tiny arms around his waist.
"Oh Edward, I'm so glad I found you. I feel so guilty for taking all the camping supplies and the truck and leaving. I was just so mad at you. You can be such an ass sometimes," Alice said. Speaking of ass, her thoughts continued with a smile. Edward narrowed his glare at her as he tried to pry her tiny hands off of his waist. He wasn't very successful.
In words that only vampires could hear, Edward spoke to Alice. "What the hell are you doing here, Alice?"
Alice's thoughts answered Edward's question. Not my fault idiot. You'd have no other way to explain that you can't stay with him during the day, and given what recently happened he'll feel as if he had truly done something wrong if you just left. Just go with it.
Edward nodded minutely. Sweetly Alice left Edward's side and went up to Jack who was staring at the scene with doubt and confusion. His thoughts were too jumbled to decipher.
"Hi, I'm Alice. Eddie's girl," she said with a little backwards point. "Thanks so much for helping him. I was scared a bear might get him or something, so I came back." Alice's little black head bobbed as she smiled vibrantly at Jack. She stuck her hand out.
Jack's eyes darted to her hand and to Edward's stare. Edward shrugged and Jack sighed before half smiling back at Alice. He shook her hand.
"Jack Twist. It wudn't a problem, my pleasure really."
I bet it was, Alice's thoughts joked. Edward growled and Alice snorted.
"See why I'd leave him in the middle of nowhere?" Jack laughed as he let go of her hand. "Okay . . . well it was nice meeting you Jack, but I have to get to work this morning . . . so Edward we should get going."
Alice walked back to the side of the camp and smiled heartily at both boys.
"Alice, if you don't mind, I'm going to help clean this up and I'll be right there." Alice nodded her head before waving at Jack and turning back the way she came. Edward sincerely thanked her in a tone that only she would hear.
Jack's thoughts were all over the place. He felt ridiculous for giving himself to Edward as he had. It was not that he expected anything . . . nor if he was sure he even wanted anything, but for some reason it had slipped Jack's mind that Edward wasn't available to him. And the tiny black haired girl that was with Edward seemed pleasant enough, incredibly good-looking also.
Jack couldn't help wondering what Edward was doing then, with him . . . with what had happened.
Again Jack was plagued with the feeling that maybe it really was wrong. Edward sighed, yet he grudgingly let Jack work out most of his thoughts. But when Edward felt as if Jack's thoughts circled negative more than they should, he intervened.
"Life is pretty complicated. But the only thing that isn't is when you're happy. Sometimes the things that make us happy are complicated themselves, but that happiness . . . there is nothing complicated about that. People go throughout life, hundreds of people, wanting to so badly have something to tie them to this world, their simple happiness. I've learned that in this short life, that's the only thing that matters. And it's never wrong. You've got to be who you are and do what makes you happy. It's nobody's business but your own."
Edward sighed, it wasn't all that he needed or wanted to say, and he hated that he couldn't look at Jack when he said it, but Jack's thoughts warned him that it wasn't best to push him so soon. And so Edward hoped that Jack heard and took those words to heart.
Edward helped straighten up the camp before turning to Jack and extending his hand.
"Thanks for everything." Jack looked at that extended hand as if it was Edward's cock itself, condemning and disgusting Jack in the light of day. He shunned from it. But when Jack's stare met Edward's he saw nothing but sincerity and compassion there . . . and something else that Jack couldn't identify. But something that made him feel as if it really would be all right.
With a half smile and nod Jack clasped Edward's forearm, letting the condemnation and disgust fall like rain. Both men held that clasp longer than they should have, and both men recognized this. When their eyes met, Edward wore a lopsided grin and Jack nodded.
That day all Edward thought about was his time with Jack, from the very first time he had stumbled across those thoughts that would change his immortal life forever, to the moment when he was truly—finally—one with Jack, like he always felt he was.
The intense emotions he was emitting were driving Jasper crazy. But it was the undertone of lust that had the empathic vampire curious. Alice shared what she knew with Jasper, but they would never share it with another. Alice and Jasper would keep Edward's secret.
Because Alice, more than anyone, knew what was in Edward's heart. The two were connected on a level that, up until Jack, had been the most important and influential connection he had. And it was because of this connection that anything that made Edward happy made Alice happy. She was firm in her belief of happiness, just as Edward was.
As night approached once again, Edward couldn't wait to go back and visit with Jack, if at least to be in his company once more, to hear another of his stories. But Edward wouldn't deny that he also wanted to feel that warmth that radiated from Jack. He wanted it to consume, devour and enliven him once more.
Alice bound into Edward's room . . . a troubled look on her face.
"What is it?" Edward asked.
"You should see this," was all that she said before she unleashed two visions upon Edward.
Alice's visions were subjective, but they were controlled by choices. And as it appeared, these two visions that she wanted Edward to see were based upon the choice he was toying with this night: The choice to go back to visit Jack or not.
In the first vision he was wrapped in Jack's warmth, his bare chest shimmering. The two had lost track of time and everything around them, and it wasn't just Jack's warmth that Edward was basking in, it was the sunlight's. And Edward's chest was literally shimmering. Jack didn't take the abnormality well, and that was putting it lightly. It challenged everything he believed . . . but most of all his relationship with Edward. It had a very adverse effect because Edward wasn't normal, and it only enforced the fact that what they had done wasn't either . . . that it was wrong.
The vision caused Edward to groan in frustration. But there was another vision. And it was Jack, a bit older with a blonde, rugged man. They were laughing and wrestling and camping out in the mountains. They shared passionate kisses and profound embraces. The look in their eyes expressed a deep longing for the other. It wasn't the mountain ridge that Edward knew like the back of his hand, but it was equally as beautiful. Jack looked so happy. The vision blurred into one of Jack bull riding and the crowd cheering. There was a beautiful brunette woman. Jack was successful. There was a young boy with blazing blue eyes and choppy brown hair that Edward thought looked very similar to the one he remembered from Jack's memories of his childhood. Edward's attention was captivated by the brief clips of Jack's life, as he was granted simple happiness.
With a sigh and a weight on his chest that he couldn't remove, he closed his eyes. His hand rubbed his chest as he ran both visions through his mind . . . through his heart. Finally a small smile crossed his face, even if the pressure in his chest hadn't alleviated completely.
"Thank you Alice," he said softly. She smiled to Edward and told him that she loved him as she flittered out of the room.
Edward made his choice.
Jack was not a part of his world, and Edward could not be a part of his. But, judging by the tone and emotions expressed in Alice's vision, a part of Edward would always stay with Jack. Jack would be who he was and he would be happy. And that was all that Edward could ever truly hope for.
Jack had changed Edward, just as a part of Edward stayed with Jack, a large part of Jack stayed with Edward. Edward was no longer the utterly morose being he once was; he remembered and embraced his humanity. Humanity was the greatest gift there was. Edward no longer shunned away from living among humans, or even living among his family,he enjoyed it and reveled in their simple lives. And that young man he had once been, who was always curious and wanted to know who others were intimately, returned to him.
Edward was finally living, and that was something.
It was this knowledge that kept Edward going. As the years past, and his family left Montana, Edward lived a solitary life. He followed Jack's life as best he could. He deeply mourned Jack's death, but lived to watch Jack's son grow and have a family of his own in Texas, and a granddaughter with a serious adventuresome personality. Eventually Edward's family returned to a small city in the northern Olympic peninsula, one they occupied decades before that spring in 1960, to enroll in high school and live among the humans once more. Edward asked that they never return to Montana, since he never wanted it tainted with anything but the beauty and joy he remembered and revered. He was never as happy as he was that spring out by Tongue's River. But every now and then Edward smiled, remembering all that he had, and all that was given to him—but most importantly, all that he gave.
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