Thanks to the anon prompter and to the TwiKinkFest staff. Best prompt and the most fun event EVER. Still claim prompts and write for the TwiKinkFest twikinkfest. tumblr. com . You have until December 16th.

Prompt: Edward/Alec vampy-bondagey thing... Alec uses his gift to cut off Edward's senses, plunging (heh!) him into a stage of sensory deprivation - except for the pleasure Alec wants to give him, of course. Maybe he invites others to participate as well - and it's the writer's choice as to whether Edward can still read the minds of whoever is involved.

Content warnings: Vamp M/M sexy times—meaning graphic all male group sex, blood lapping, and a little bit of a mind fuck. Basically, it's balls deep, balls to the walls—who knows which. Either way, for my first slash fic I had to grow an imaginary pair the size of the Atlantic and dive right in. And, I'm still shaking. It was that terrifying. Hope you all enjoy what is probably my one and only slash.

Kudos: A hard, deep smooch for my oh-so-amazing cheerleader and beta, TwiMarti. She let me pop her slash cherry with this. ;) An appreciative whistle and brow wiggle to ajr818 from PTB for editing as well. Fan girl squeals for the wonderful HoochieMomma. She pre-read for my tight, virgin ass (ha!) and is the author of my favorite slash OS, "Mortal Enemies," Caius and Jacob. (And yes, while the pairing is surprising, it's that good.) High-fives and maniacal cackles to my other pre-reader, wonderwoundedhearers, my go-to-girl and partner in crime. And last but least, a hug to prettykittyartist for being my non-distraction distraction. :)

It is neither good nor bad, but thinking makes it so. William Shakespeare

Dark are the walls. Their stone, their feel. Where they lead is unfathomable, unknown, for I cannot hear. Thoughts, I cannot know. Only a slow, steady drip, drip, drip resonates. The twin cloaked shadows in front of me move with its measured rhythm. Unhurried they are, as time means nothing to them.

It means everything to me. So, I follow, determined and unfazed, having been here a week and used to the apathetic void. Ahead, my last trial, my last test awaits. There are seven. Seven endeavors to sway me, to bend me. A seven deadly sins program—exhibit. I have endured and conquered six. My final, I am sure, is envy.

I will prevail. I must. It is my mission, my duty as a husband, father, son, and brother—one of whom, walks next to me. Although not of his making, I am grateful for his silence. Yet, as clear as day, I know. I know what he is thinking. He disagrees with my decisions. Finds them deplorable, not honorable. He wants me to retreat, to end this charade, for it is exactly that. With my success, my family will be safe, I am told. But there are never guarantees, and with the Volturi, even less so.

Still, I cannot help but hope to gain some respect and a small measure of time. Merely another hundred years will suffice. For a moment, to stop looking over our shoulders, to let down our guard—now that would be the life. A perfect and peaceful one. Of it, I dream and continue, letting the hope drive me and settle the ache in my heart. I miss them—my family. With a yearning twinge in the soul that I covet, I miss them.

I struggle to keep to the rhythm, impatient at the next turn. We ghost through an entrance, its looming arch overhead. Tendrils of incense waft toward me, filling my nostrils and making me twitch. It clings to the walls, to the stench of recent death bled within. The room is smoky and dim, with candles blurring the lines as they play the trailing shades. The urge to roll my eyes at such theatrics, their tactics, I resist. Ahead, a wood-slatted door, studded together by iron, stands. Large and closed, it broods.

We stop. An acme. Finale.

This is it.

A willowy escort in my line of sight turns, the deceptively boyish profile emerging from under the hood. She—for Jane is surely a girl—looks to her brother, the boy not quite a man and sadly more appealing than she. With a glint in her eyes and a curl of her lip, she sneers. "Have fun."

A tremor ripples through Alec, accompanied by a shuddering breath. Shocked gasps echo it, one right after another—the disabling screen dropping. Emotions invade. Thoughts bombard.

I loved you first. I loved you first! Damn you. Damn you!

Lust? Lust!

feel. To have and touch. To give and take.

Pain. Alarm. Lust. Waves of oh-so-strong lust.

My knees buckle. My brother, catching himself, reels sensation in. His hand shoots out, his grip on my arm, scoring, uplifting—restraining.


I jerk away from him.

The unspoken words I hear from behind the door.

What a lesson to be learned. Humility Debasement And Carlisle's golden boy … Oh, the righteousness!

savor this. Make it count. Make it last. Another century. Maybe, we can even—

"Edward, don't."

Jasper's voice rings loud and clear. Once again, the invisible barrier has been raised.

I can do this. I must. My body, my head, shakes—a reaction and a reply. I don't meet the imploring stare that matches those imploring words. I don't want to see the ruby eyes I have caused by coming here. Though my only request before this game was our diet, it has not been easy. It has never been for Jasper, and the way they taunt and flaunt food

My mouth waters, though I finally had my deer the day before. Test number six—gluttony. Passed.

My eyes involuntarily flick to Jasper's—only for a second, but it is enough. Enough to remind me, to spur and move me. It will all be for naught if I do not.

I take a step, and then another. My feet are heavy. Like molasses, my movements sluggish, burdened by weight and density—morality and naiveté. I keep moving, my eyes on the door. Resolute and firm in my choice, a piece of me hardens. Step by step.

I pass the witch. She, from the brief previous glimpse at her thoughts I learn, is not merely jealous but envious of her brother. Not because of me, but for the drive he possesses as a male of a certain age. For him even having the will, the desire because she has none and wishes otherwise.

I almost pity her.

In the otherwise still room, the door creaks open, loud and ominous in my ear. I am not deterred. A crescendo of courage and confidence builds. Soft light spills from the crack, and Alec is washed in it as he gestures to enter. I go ahead of him, letting my elbow brush against his abdomen. A show that I am ready, that I will not resist and fight them on this. I am rewarded with a shiver and a sharp hiss of breath, telling me in not so many words that he understands.

The threshold I cross over, leaving behind my aggrieved brother, fighting the spiteful sister. The slide of the bolt, followed by a click, and the door closes, blessedly silencing them. I quickly scan the room. No bed. Only a covered table, a chair, some candles, and two other men.

Caius, with his dress shirt open and hanging loosely from relaxed shoulders, is poised on the other side of the room. His hands are tucked in his black slacks, and a small smile plays on his lips. His eyes glimmer darkly, the intensity contrasting with his stance. Not standing beside Aro, he oozes a controlled power of which I never thought him capable.

On my right, Demetri stands before the table. He, too, is different. If possible, he is calmer, smoother, more lithe in each disrobing movement.

The space is quiet. Heavily calm. Then, from the man obviously in charge comes one word—a directive murmur rolling off his tongue.


Brief hesitation blooms before I unbutton my shirt. My fingers neither shake nor fumble as they glide down to the next. I reach up to remove it.

"Leave it."

I do. A pop of the button and a slide of the zipper next, and my slacks fall. With my eyes on Caius, I slowly tug down my boxers. His eyes don't move from mine, but I know he takes me in as I straighten. His pupils enlarge, engulfing the red. Two sharp intakes of breath and a sigh resound. For a split second, my mind registers one thought, shared between three.


His gaze piercing, Caius approaches, undressing as he goes. His fixation causes my sudden trepidation. He is intent, determined. Eyes locked on my own, he keeps me frozen. I cannot look away, even if I wanted to.

Then, his lips move without a sound. The realization that I cannot hear in the most basic of ways strikes me with fear.

I jump, a hand touching my shoulder from behind. Not sensing someone draw near is disconcerting, but I do not move to look. My eyes are trained on the more threatening predator in the room. In my peripheral, I see Alec come around, his hand trailing to my chest. He is nude as he drops to a knee, his hand drifting down my side, over my hip, and the front of my leg. Taking my hand with his other, he places it on his head. A balance he is serving, offering—for myself, between him and Caius—as he lifts my feet to remove the clothing pooled around my ankles and leaves the channel I need open.

My gaze drops to him. He peeks up beneath long lashes and dark brows. His eyes, no longer blank and unfeeling, smolder. Like his thoughts, they enthrall.

Alabaster cream, a sprinkle of blackened cinnamon hair, sinews of flesh and muscle to stir and harden. To see them quiver, ripple.

He is not a boy, unsure and insecure. He is a man who likes what he sees and knows what he wants. And, from his conjured thoughts, he will get what he wants. A corner of his mouth lifts, devious and smug, before the partition slams into place. My head snaps up with it. This is a game, a test.

My eyes land on Demetri as he sinks into the chair, nude and patiently waiting—watching. He licks his lips while his eyes feast on the length of me. He leans back, his arms curling behind his head and his legs parting. Eyes on fire, they flick to my own.

I look away. He is already hard, the very tip of him shiny and swelling.

My hand tightens in Alec's hair. I'm not quite sure what to think, how to breathe, what to make of the tingle down my spine. I hear Alec's inner chuckle, then swift silence. He stands. His eyes level with mine, and that dangerous smile is still upon his lips.

Relax, he sends me. You will enjoy this.

Abruptly alone in my head again, I think not.

He smirks knowingly and begins to circle me. My gold eyes, locked on his ruby-red, follow. Both sets snap to Caius as he appears and takes Alec's place in front of me. Now, his eyes tell me he will be enjoying this.

And oh, how I disagree! I inwardly scream, the lights—my vision—going out. I try not to panic, to fight and flee on instinct. The lack of my senses

I feel two pairs of hands push me down, the pressure on my shoulders forcing me to my knees.

I swallow and then oblige. Though I do not hear it, I know my chest heaves. Even if I do not need to breathe, I am panting, anticipating what comes next, and all the while wondering how this relates to envy. Pride and wrath, I might understand, but one was day two and the other was four. I grit my teeth as my head is yanked back. Blunt, satin-covered steel glides across my bottom lip, probing, coaxing.

I cannot do this! What they ask, what they seek But then, I remember. I am the one who came to them. I am the one who asked and sought. For the lives of my family, I will do anything, I have told them. I know it. Thus far, I have proved it, and now, I must decide.

And I do.

I submit.

Cautiously, at first.

My tongue flicks out—one tentative lick. Trying not to think, I repeat, taking another, longer stroke. I do it again and cannot help but ascertain that it is different. Just a tad bit salty but sleeker, cleaner. Not too bad.

Curious, I run the flat of my tongue from the base and up the ridged underside. No, not bad at all. I grip the base, the heel of my hand pressing into the top of his sack. Another lick and I swirl my venom-slick tongue around the rim of the crown before taking Caius in completely. Then, something miraculous happens.

The dam breaks. The floodgates open. Thoughts, sound, emotion—sensation—erupts.

Oh, God, yes. Come on, golden boy.

Goddamn, will you look at that? His mouth … that damned mouth I never thought could be more perfect…

I feel Alec running his nails on my scalp, up and down the nape of my neck. His hand clenches, tugging my hair. Do you have any idea how beautiful you look, Edward?

In my ears, I hear marble-smooth hands over silkier, harder flesh. Behind me. Next to me. Wet. Slick. Glide. In front of me. So sensual, so erotic, so damn arousing.

I don't need to open my eyes. I know I'm achingly hard, alarmingly so, and I know what I'd see—the ridged plane of an abdomen, the tempting dip of a belly button, the masculine trail of hair leading to a thatch of gold.

I suck, hollowing out my cheeks and curling my tongue around and beneath his length. I'll show him golden boy.

Caius hisses, grabbing the back of my head as he guides me to take him further. I reach up and hold the back of his thighs, pulling him closer. Four simultaneous groans reverberate, my own vibrating in my chest, through my mouth and my throat. Emboldened, I lift my lids and look up. Caius has his head thrown back with his mouth exquisitely slack.

I stare. Then, digging my nails in his thighs, I hum, almost growl.

His eyes snap to mine, surprise meeting pure desire and villainous conviction.

Oh, fuck, the other two proclaim in my head.

Caius snarls and shoves me to lie back. Before I hit the floor, Alec tears off my shirt. Caius straddles me—my neck, my head. I open, not wasting a second to let him sink into my mouth. I palm the globes of his ass for leverage. He cradles the back of my neck. The tempo, slower. But the angle deeper. Much deeper. The swollen tip drags back and forth across the roof my mouth as I suck and he fucks. I relax my throat, my jaw. The added chanting in my head—a mantra, an orchestra—make me crave whatever they have planned.

I wish I want I need

Deeper Harder More

Come on. Give it. Take it.

Lost in the harmony, I cannot discern which words belong to whom, and nor do I care. Through heavy-lidded slits, I watch Alec over Caius's shoulder. His heated gaze and tilted secret smile sets my skin aflame and, suddenly, I am the one repeating those words in my head.

I need I want I wish More Harder Deeper Take it. Give it. Come on.

As though he can read my thoughts, he grins slyly before he lowers and disappears behind Caius. My eyes close. I feel his hands upon my knees, my thighs, inching closer. My legs widen, accommodating his body, his shoulders, as he settles between them.

So close We all think.

But Alec teases. His fingers explore my hipbones and every place in between but there. He is languid—torturous as his thumb circles my bellybutton, dipping in before he brushes and musses the dark hair all the way down.

Demetri growls. For all of us. "Alec."

He laughs. Finally, a warm hand tightly encloses my cock, his grip perfect as his thumb swipes across the tip before each pump down. My hips thrust in time with his hand, my drawing sucks, the roll of Caius's hips. Groans overtone moans, blending. Our thoughts counterpoint.

Yes, just like that.

The beat, the flow is perfect.

Glorious pumping, rubbing I want it all.

I wonder

My cock twitches, feeling Alec's heavy little pants upon it. His face—mouth—so close, I moan and buck. Beg.

He doesn't oblige. Instead, his hands shackle my ankles and shove them against my ass. Holding them there, he spreads me. His mouth and nose graze my inner thigh. Lower. Behind.

I tense.

"Alec." Caius grits out as he tugs my hair and rams, forcing and keeping me immobile.

Before I gag, my world cuts to black. Gone are my senses, except for the sixth, and the only thoughts I can concentrate on are Alec's. Caius and Demetri, unthinking, are lost in their own desire and pleasure. Alec almost. His mind frenzied, starving. For food. For me.

Blood. Red. Cup. Mine. Pop. Still warm. Crimson. Gushing, rushing liquid. Heat cooled, doused. Sated partially. Grip. Pump. I want. Need. To feel. Him. All of him. From the inside …

The wall slams. Thought, touch, smell, taste, vision, sound—all of it, gone. I cannot move, breathe escape. I am drowning—swimming in nothing. A void. Not even my scream echoes. The effect is devastating, nearly insufferable. Alone. Nowhere to turn. To go.

I think I thrash. Roar. Nothing.

I cannot know. I am a part of that void, nothing but a shadow that blends with the next. Indiscernible.

Without warning, I am thrown. Through me and around me, freeing bliss surges. But it does not last. To go from nothing to everything is devastating in its own right. No longer oppressing but overwhelming. Primal thoughts, hunger, desire, and ecstasy. I am suddenly drowning in a whole new way.

Blood. Human blood. Poignant and luscious, the scent permeates the air, saturates my lungs, and befuddles my mind. It is rich and spicy—entirely too tempting. I open my eyes to target the source, only to clench them shut. The wet, velvet strokes against my cock are of Alec's tongue lapping up glistening streams of blood off me.

Delicious The image, the feel.

The taste, according to him. And I bet it is.

I bang my head back against the floor when his mouth skims my balls, gently taking each one in and cleaning them off. Taking me in his hand, he moves lower.


My eyes flash open. Standing directly above my head is Caius, stroking himself. Crimson blood and thick clear strands of venom drip from his fist. I can hear the drops splatter as each hit the ground near my ear. He fucking came. And he's still hard.

I grit my teeth and grasp his ankles on each side of my head, trying to hold back a groan and my need to come. Alec's pumping me with renewed vigor, and his damn tongue

Rimming, whirling, probing.

A finger. Then two. Exploring, curling, stretching.

The pressure—

I growl as Alec releases my cock and removes his fingers. Shifting, his arm encircles my waist as he slides his legs beneath mine, titling my bottom up. The tease that he is, he rubs the underside of his cock against my hole. Over and over. My hand shoots out and grabs his arm. He needs to quit playing. He looks up, his blazing black eyes meeting my own. Then, and only then, does he ease in, keeping his eyes on mine. And the pressure

I throw my head back, and my jaw drops, but no sound escapes. Even though I have the urge to groan and gasp, I can't.

The stealing of breath, the sensation of being filled is accompanied by the sudden impression of being lifted.

With my legs propped on his arms, and his hands supporting the small of my back, Alec stands fluidly, his cock sinfully pushing deeper inside. Caius's fingertips dig into my shoulder blades as he raises my upper body, my head between his thighs. Instinctively, my legs wrap around Alec, my heels pressing into his back. My hands grip the curve of Caius's ass as he lifts me higher and slips his cock into my mouth.

The flavor so mouthwatering, I want it—him—all. I swallow, greedily getting both the essence of him and that fuel of life to coat my tongue, the back of my throat.

How does it feel, Edward? Alec draws back slowly before thrusting, counterpointing in tandem with Caius's circular buck and slow withdraw. Prone in the air between them, I am submerged, over-stimulated. So far gone, I am lost, barely aware of their thoughts, the questions asked.

How does it taste? With a swivel of his hips, Caius pulls out before driving back in. He knows exactly how it tastes as he watches my mouth, stained with crimson, stretching, engulfing, taking. The way the liquid explodes on the tongue, seeps into the pores succulent.

Are you watching yourself? Demetri doesn't even consider joining the three of us. From where he sits, we, statuesquely godlike but real and in the flesh, embody symmetry and male virility. Magnificent in form and strength, we more than whet his visual and sexual appetite as he fucks his fist. We are feeding him as we feed off our own and each other's pleasure.

It is satisfying—

And the smell that's us, Edward. Alec plunges. I rock, flailing into a single sensual dimension, magnified by the absence of the others. Dark and potent, it smells of blood and sex. Cloying, consuming

—but not nearly enough.

All us, Edward. Amazing. Incredible. Delicious. Isn't it?

Pulled and then pushed into another ambiance, I flounder in the beat thumping in my ears and head. Muscular thighs slap against flesh, flexing, pounding—a quickening of pace but still together. We are frantic, animalistic as we desperately chase after the just-out-of-reach release. Answering groans and moans turn into snarls and growls, Alec masterfully toying with each and all of our senses.



One by one.

Revolving, it is maddening.

And so fucking good.

The friction, the tension sinful.


And too much.

In my head, at the base of my spine, between my thighs—all fucking over—the pressure, building and coiling, explodes.

Breathy primal snarls erupt from behind clenched jaws—Caius, Alec, and Demetri's. Before I grit my teeth, Caius pulls out, rubbing against my face as he comes on my throat and chin—my mouth, which is pulled back in a feral hiss. He watches as it runs, sticky and sinuous. So do Alec and Demetri—one of whom is coming inside me, while the other on his stomach.

Their shattering thoughts, the exquisite sound, smell, and visual, along with the rippling release are profound. I am fucking shaking and still coming as darkness takes me. This time, I hardly even notice. It is a reprieve—liberating.

And, just like that, the experience is over. I emerge as a charcoal cloak wraps around my shoulders, draping and covering me completely. Finding myself on all fours and cleaned off but still smelling of blood and sex, I am unable to move as I stare at dark stone. My mind is startlingly blank. Alone in my head, unsure on how to react and what to do next, I think. I shouldn't, but I do.

I never thought

I never considered

What have I done? I shake my head, forcing myself not to think of that quite yet.

I know sex isn't usually like the experience I just had—if ever. It is these three men that made it so, and I hate that they did it to me, that they showed and shared it with me. Enjoyed and shared me.

But I needed to prove

Oh, God, what have I done? How do I explain? I know I cannot take it back, and even if I could, I am uncertain if I want to.

My hands clench into fists.

Do I? What just? How does this? Why did they? No longer am I able to think straight. Too many thoughts, emotions, and questions swirl in my head. It is then, with my jumbled mind, that I realize the tests of this past week were all merely child's play—a show. This one was not simply the last or the finale, it was the one and only.

And I prevailed. I did as they asked and prevailed.

But at what cost? The question is whispered in my head, in my own voice. The animal awakened inside of me simmers and flares, not liking the inflection. I push both aside; I will think of it later.

I lift my head. Already dressed, the three vampires stand side by side in front of me. They are seemingly unaffected, except for the tiny matching smirks donning their faces. They are as satisfied as I am. They are proud of themselves and of me, and I will get what I came for.

Yet, their eyes still burn—this time with knowledge.

They know something I do not.

I stand slowly and glare at Alec, wishing he would drop the screen and let me hear their thoughts—now, more than ever.

A broad smile creeps upon his face, and a startling thought strikes me. I was wrong before. In this case—with this test—he is the most threatening of the three, not Caius. Seeing him stand between the two men, both slightly behind him, I comprehend it was his idea, that it was he that controlled every aspect of the experience for each of us.

He might look like and be considered a boy, but he definitely does not think like one. The power he has. The control. I had always known he was dangerous, but how he timed every bit of it is stunning. Astounding. The focus. How he anticipated and read our bodies

He takes a step toward me, and I tense—more like flinch. He keeps walking, ignoring it completely with indifference. He goes around me, and my eyes lock with his as he strides past, and his hand brushes my own. I shiver, a sliver of fear and a thrill of desire shooting through me. I turn and watch as he slides the bar from across the door, which is pointless and utterly useless against vampire strength. A dramatization, another show.

I spare a glance in Caius and Demetri's direction, careful not to look into their eyes, and give them a nod before I drift to the exit.

Alec opens the door, and I also avoid looking at Jasper—again, not wanting to meet those eyes, which I am sure match his silent judgment.

Right as I pass Alec at the threshold, I hear his voice.

Until next time, Edward.

I freeze—only for a second—before I continue. Jasper says nothing, but I can feel the tension coming from him, his hands clenching and unclenching with his chest heaving.

Before the door closes behind me with a gaveling thump, I take one glance back. Each of their eyes are burning black with desire as they rub a palm down the front of their slacks.

And God damn me, my own eyes and desire flare. I want it—them—too. I was left without wanting, never wondering. All sides of me—the visual and thoughtful, the man and the animal—were satiated. But right now, already, I no longer am.

And I hate them for it.

The brink of a destruction I have never experienced nor understood suddenly has meaning, and maybe, that was the point. In one day, one act, the deadliest of sins








I feel them all.

A wall, dark in its feel and hard with its stone, builds brick by brick. The shackles that brought and bound me here are no longer as binding—a thread thinning. I stare at the closed door. Where it leads is unfathomable, unknown. With each unhurried step closer to it, one question comes to mind

Is it the thought that counts?

*flushes from head to toe* Um, yeah…that's not exactly how I planned it to go. As a slash newbie, I'd love to hear what you think, but I don't have Edward's gift. So…leave me a review?

P.S. I have an extremely hawt, vivid ANIMATED .gif of the M/M/M position used in this OS. PM me, or let me know in your review if you want the link. ;)