This story will contain slash, death, violence, explicit sex scenes, self-loathing, despair and some other adult themes. You've been warned.

I'd like to thank my amazing beta – Fr333bird for straightening this up for me. Any mistakes left are my own – please note English is not my mother language. Also thanks to Im_not_a_lizard for encouragement.

I do not own anything Twilight.

The picspiration for this story: tiny(dot)pl/h14vg

The hunt

Jasper stands by the wall, leaning on it a little, and scans the crowd with his black eyes. His gaze only appears to be lazy and absent-minded. In fact he is utterly focused and nothing can go unnoticed by him. He's searching. He's on a hunt today.

Nothing, nothing. Jasper sighs, exasperated, but a little relieved too and averts his gaze for a while, scrutinizing the dirty walls and worn interior. He winces a bit when the loud banging music reaches unbearable levels and focuses back on the dance floor. And he's finally rewarded with his prize.

The boy is pretty - with gorgeous full lips, dirty blond hair and big brown eyes. He dances all the time, his lean, young body moving effortlessly to the rhythm – turning around, hopping up and down, wriggling his ass, throwing his arms up in the air. And he's laughing and grinning – with a perfect boy-next door smile. He seems to be life personified and this is all that Jasper wants and fears at the same time. But Jasper can already pick up the vibe of the darkness and yes - he knows now he's chosen well. The boy will not live no matter what Jasper does tonight. Jasper nods to himself and reluctantly leaves his spot by the wall.

"Hi there, doll," Jasper says, leaning over the bar counter and smiling a little smile – just enough to flash his dimples but not too broad to make the boy uneasy with the sight of his unnaturally sharp teeth.

"Oh hi, Blondie," says the boy, grinning, already hooked.

"What can I buy you to drink?" There's no time for small talk. No one really expects it.

"Red Bull with vodka. And I already like you." The boy wiggles his hips to the rhythm of the song.

Jasper places the order and steps closer to the boy.

"You got a name, Darlin'?"

"Rile. You?"

"I'm your Death. My name is irrelevant." Jasper says, wondering why he even bothers coming up with this shit.

"Fuck, you're hot." The boy licks his lips and leans closer to Jasper. "And you smell good."

"I know." Jasper smirks, grabbing Rile's hips to bring him closer. He inhales the boy's scent deeply and hums in appreciation. He's really done well tonight. "You," he whispers in the boy's ear. "You, my doll, smell delicious…"

Rile chuckles and writhes his hips, grinding himself into Jasper a little. He swallows his drink fast, making Jasper look at his bobbing Adam's apple, and asks, "Wanna go somewhere more private?"

Jasper doesn't answer for a moment. He considers if maybe, just maybe, he could give the boy a few more hours. But then he decides against it, as there is no point in that really. So he squeezes the boy's ass and gently directs him toward the exit. Just as they are about to step into the freezing November air he gives the boy one last chance. "How old are you?"

Rile chuckles, wriggles his eyebrows and answers, "I'm old enough for you to fuck me. Don't worry dad."

"You've just signed your death sentence," Jasper murmurs, knowing full well that the boy can't hear it.

They walk side by side, Rile clutching his jacket to him to keep himself warm against the wind, Jasper with his shirt opened carelessly.

"Aren't you cold, man?" Rile says, trying to wrap himself tighter in the jacket.

Jasper just glances at him. "I'm never cold."

They reach a hotel at the end of the street that rents rooms by the hour. Jasper pays the receptionist and they go up the stairs. Rile clings to Jasper's arm while he's opening the door but Jasper shrugs him off. Once inside he flicks the lights on, tosses the key on the bedside table and sits in the chair opposite the bed. The room is dingy and smells of feet and spunk, and the flower-patterned bed cover is stained and torn. But Jasper doesn't give a shit about the surroundings.

Rile takes his jacket off and steps closer, placing his hands on the armrests, leaning towards Jasper's face, clearly intent on kissing him.

"No touching," Jasper says coldly. "Undress and lie down on the bed."

"What? But I want you," Rile whines.

"And you'll have me. Now do as I say." Jasper looks at boy's pout and adds more gently, in spite of himself, "You'll see, it's going to be worth it."

Rile is still pouting but he complies, getting undressed and positioning himself on the bed. Jasper watches him with appreciation, his gaze gliding over boy's lean but toned body – long legs, well defined chest, a detailed tattoo on Rile's side. Jasper thinks that if he could, he'd get ink just like that and this makes the whole thing even harder. But he tells the boy to relax as he gathers the emotions inside of him and slowly, tentatively, pushes the arousal towards Rile.

"Touch yourself for me," Jasper demands, and this time the boy doesn't complain anymore as he grabs his already half-erect cock and starts pumping his fist on it.

Jasper leans down, his elbows on his knees, and watches this private show for a moment, still pushing the waves of lust towards the boy. He feels his own erection too and is a bit surprised. That doesn't usually happen when he's just hunting. But the boy is so pretty and responsive to Jasper's gift as he lies, squirming on the bed and moaning.

Against his better judgment Jasper stands up and approaches the bed to have a closer look at Rile – his parted lips, which Jasper finds kind of perfect; his long eyelashes casting shadows underneath the boy's closed eyes; his elegant, long fingers with dirt under the fingernails, which makes Jasper smile a little. He reaches with his hand and keeps it close to Rile's thigh, sending more bliss towards him. From the way Rile pants, he knows that the boy can feel the strange electric current coming from Jasper's hand - inches above his skin.

"Oh fuck, what are you doing to me?" Rile cries, and opens his eyes to see Jasper leaning over him, like he's about to kiss him.

"Bringing you pleasure. The way you like it," Jasper answers, already feeling the hint of future despair, but burying it down. Later, later, he thinks, and allows himself to inhale Rile's scent again and the hunger takes over. His eyes blacken even more and just when Rile is screaming from the pleasure, his cum spilling all over his stomach, Jasper leans down and sinks his teeth into the exposed skin on his neck and drinks all the boy has to offer, keeping Rile's body still with a tight grip.


Jasper feels the world crushing in on him, the walls of it closing, clamping on him like poker cards in Alice in Wonderland, making him just a dot in space. He feels like he's going to implode right now, so he flees from the room quickly, recklessly leaving the already cooling body behind him - just as it was on the bed - and he runs and runs until he reaches the Ocean. He dives into the water and swims down, deeper and deeper until only darkness surrounds him – no light, no sounds, no smells. Nothingness in the depths of the Ocean.

He lies down on the bottom, welcoming the feeling of pressure pushing on his body. He wants to feel the physical pain, he relishes it, even if it is just a light touch really. He wishes he could just inhale the water and feel the burn in his lungs. But then he'd only have to spit out the salt liquid later on, so he just shuts his eyes, covers his ears and pretends he's gone.

After what feels like ages, but may be just minutes, Jasper slowly rises and swims towards the surface. He walks out of the water and sits down for a while on the sand, clenching and unclenching his fists, just to feel them again. It's dark and the light drizzle coming from the sky is freezing cold. He walks home - his clothes dripping wet and his hair muddy and smelling like the sea.

He climbs up the stairs of an old factory building, fumbles with his keys for a moment and enters the lofty space. He strips and tosses his wet clothes aside and sits down, naked, on the mattress on the floor, leaning his head against the wall. It's not like he really needs it, he could just stand still in the middle of the room without getting tired, but small things like the mattress allow him to remember what it was like to be alive. He muses whether he should stand up and do something, like read or clean up, but there is no point in that. He's read it all and he doesn't really care if the room is dusty or dirty as long as it doesn't smell too bad.

So Jasper closes his eyes and waits, and waits, and waits; silently counting the numbers of the days passing, by the changing quality of the light that filters through his eyelids. Day, night, day, night, day. Just when he thinks he's counted well he remembers he hasn't checked the date when he came back from the sea.

Fuck, he thinks. He wants to cheat and forget about the lost days, but he can't, as he knows that prolonging it will only make things worse. And what he really doesn't need is another slip like with Rile. As far as he knows they may already be searching for him, but Jasper's pretty confident that the receptionist at the hotel won't tell a thing.

Jasper slowly gets up and walks through the empty space towards the shower. He stands under the cold stream of water, his eyes shut, and scrubs himself meticulously. He digs through the pile of clothes by the wall, trying to find anything that isn't totally worn and dirty and settles on a "Go Bears!" blue T-shirt and faded jeans with just one oil stain on the backside pocket. He finds some boots but no laces and curses again, trying to lace them with a piece of rope. It looks stupid so he just leaves them as they are.

He stands, then, by the window, looking through the dimmed, cracked windows and tries to brace himself to go through it all once more. Hating himself for what he's going to do, hating the future kill for being the victim, hating the world for making him what he is, and allowing it to continue. He digs his fingernails in his palms, knowing full well that the marks will fade as soon as he releases his fists.

When the last rays of light fade he takes the keys and walks out of the door, resigned and bitter, but already feeling the rush of the hunt.


So? Do you want more of this?

ps. Rile's tatoo: tiny(dot)pl/h14vr