Author's Note: Well, I have no idea what prompted me to write a Twilight fanfic, but this popped in my head and wouldn't go away. I think it came to me when I randomly watched the first Twilight one night and 1) got annoyed at vampires that don't want to kill people, and 2) got intrigued at Jasper being the only vampire that ever actually seems like he wants to kill someone. So, be prepared for a dark, angsty vampire who actually would like to drink blood (the only worthwhile vampires, IMO), and of course, plenty of smut!
Blood. Surrounded by blood. Every day at the school, I was surrounded by beating hearts and the sound and smell of hot, fresh blood pulsing in veins under the surface of thin, soft skin. It was a pulse that threatened to overtake my rational mind.
You must understand that I had a secret. A secret that I kept so far buried even Edward, my mind reading brother, did not know. A secret that would mean abandoning the life I had with my family, the Cullens.
I craved human blood.
My family surely knew that I still fought the cravings for human blood, but they assumed I wanted to overcome them. That I wanted to be good. That I didn't want to be a monster. But the unfortunate truth, the long-buried secret, was that I hated this "vegetarian" lifestyle. Vegetarian. What an absurd word for what they were. Is killing and devouring animals not the opposite of the human definition of vegetarian?
Enough of semantics. Back to my secret. I did not want to live on the blood of animals. I wanted to live on the blood of humans. And I had, for many decades. Longer, in fact, than any in my family but Carlisle have even been alive. Carlisle says the thirst diminishes with age. I have yet to find that to be true. My thirst for human blood has, if anything, only been magnified by years of living without it.
Why did I stay, then? The answer is simple: I loved Alice. Alice was my mate. Her exuberance and joy made my life easier, for when one is constantly barraged by the emotional turmoil of others, simple happiness is a pleasant emotion to experience, and it is one Alice experiences near constantly. But Alice did not know of my secret. I lied to her as I lied to them all. I told them that I found the killing of humans abhorrent, that it made my life depressing and difficult. That the despondency led me to the "vegetarian" lifestyle with the Cullen family. This was not true.
Certainly, it was difficult at first, the taking of human life. My first mate, Maria, was cruel and cold, and I never felt satisfied at the lives I took when I was with her. But after I left her, I discovered that my powers as an empath were more useful than I realized. I sought out the immoral, the vicious, the most criminal of humans: those whose emotions were nothing but hate and wickedness. I took only those lives. This sated my thirst for human blood, and far from depressing me, taking these lives made me feel as though I was fulfilling a higher purpose. I was a predator culling the herd of those who did not belong. I was not a monster. I destroyed monsters.
But those thoughts were so deeply hidden that Edward could not find them, and the Cullens lived happily believing that, while I struggled with the craving for blood, I truly desired to avoid taking human life. They were patient with me, they held me back when the struggle became too severe. The bloodthirst was ever-present, and the smell of forbidden blood maddening and arousing in a way that sex could never satisfy.
So, high school was agonizing. Surrounded on all sides by the sweet fragrance of living blood and the tempting pulse of hearts. The menstruating young girls were torture. Though that blood is not as tempting as the blood pumping fresh in their veins, the scent of it mingled with their sweet, musky feminine aroma kept me at a constant state of tension, filled with both insatiable thirst and terrible arousal. And, even worse, an aroused male vampire gives off a scent that most women find irresistible, and as an empath, my lust spreads unbidden to those around me. This meant that the more acute my thirst was, the more the young women at the high school threw themselves at me in ill-disguised attempts at seduction.
Alice helped in any way she could. As the craving for human blood would never be satisfied while I lived with the Cullens, the only release from the torture was sex. Rough, feral, frequent sex. Sex took the edge off the desire, just enough to keep me from killing the next abusive high school boyfriend or deflowering the next menstruating virgin. The Cullens, even Alice, thought I was just a lusty man. They joked about it, Emmett in particular. They didn't know that sex was the only thing keeping the bloodthirst and arousal at bay enough to refrain from killing.
But women, even vampiric women, have peaks and troughs of lust, and it was most unfortunate that one of Alice's troughs occurred the same week as my younger brother's human girlfriend's birthday party. I was on edge from being surrounded by delicious blood and without any sexual release to curb the thirst and arousal. The paper cut should have been an annoyance, a temptation that I could grit my teeth and ignore, but alas, it was not.
In my defense, of all times and places and tempting young women that could have caused me to lose control, this was by far the safest. A human who knew what we were, and was surrounded by six protective "vegetarian" vampires? She was never in any real danger. I did feel guilt-ridden at my actions. They were unforgivable. To attack my brother's human mate? A humiliating outrage. But I shudder to imagine the consequences if an unsuspecting student at the school had suffered a paper cut during the same week, when I was far out of reach of my family.
Even so, I felt terrible for what I had done, for the outburst that I could not control. For reminding my family that, as much as I was a part of them, I was different than they. The lust for blood still ran close to the surface.
I needed to conquer that. I needed to prove to myself, and to them, that I could still control the urge, could strangle the craving and bury it until it no longer dictated my actions. If I couldn't, my future with the Cullens was over. It was for that reason that I sought out young, beautiful, human Bella Swan in the forest after my brother Edward had abandoned her.
There was powerful, overwhelming emotion coming off of her. Grief. Abandonment. Even self-loathing. The waves of emotion I could feel on her were almost too powerful, too gripping, too painful. I wasn't sure I could come closer. But she was alone, desperately alone in the forest, and I needed to apologize, and to show her, to show myself, that the predator inside was under control.
The thought crossed my mind briefly. What if I kill her?
I shrugged it off. If I kill her, I kill her. And I'll never return to my family again.
I made myself known by deliberately stepping on a twig as I approached. She glanced in my direction, hope rising in her mind, hope that I was my brother.
"Hello, Bella," I said.
Though the timbre of my voice mirrored Edward's, the accent didn't. Her hope was shattered and she collapsed into grief once more. I approached carefully. She'd fallen in the woods. There was blood trickling down her arm. I stopped, breathing slowly and evenly, closing my eyes as the wondrous scent filled my nostrils, but I pushed away the thirst. I walked closer.
"You're bleeding," I said quietly.
"Sorry," she muttered. It was unusual, though not surprising, that there was no fear in her voice, nor radiating off of her body as the grief did.
"I am here to apologize," I continued. "I could have killed you."
"There are worse things," she said with apathy.
I knelt beside her, my eyes focusing without my permission on the blood falling freely from her exposed lower arm. Her emotions were raw and painful, a gut wrenching emptiness emanating from her thoughts.
"Kill me, Jasper," she whispered.
I looked to her face.
"Please," she said softly, her pain becoming my pain as her emotions swarmed my thoughts. "Please, just kill me. Just end it."
She tilted her head and bared her neck to me. My breathing was now coming heavily. I could sense the pulse in her throat, feel the rushing blood beneath the skin, smell it so strongly that I nearly ripped her throat out at that very moment. Sorely tempted, I leaned over her. My lips hovered on her jugular, desperate to pierce the skin and take a long pull of the blood that flowed there. She wanted to die. That much was clear from her thoughts. If I didn't do it, I knew she may well end up doing it herself. I wanted to kill her.
I let my lips press a gentle kiss on the vein that sat so close to the surface of her skin, and her breath hitched in her throat. But I did not bite. My entire body gave a violent shudder as I suppressed the urge, instead kissing down to her collar bone. My face followed her shoulder, down her arm, and stopped at the deep gash there. I was trembling visibly. I met her gaze.
"I'm not a good man, Bella," I whispered harshly against her fair skin.
"Edward says that about himself all the time," she said, with some combination of excitement and fear in her eyes and emotions. "But when you say it, I believe it."
I gave a low, rumbling chuckle. Then, wrapping myself tightly in self-control, I licked the blood falling from her arm. I couldn't help the moan that escaped my throat. She tasted exquisite. I was consumed by thirst and arousal at the feel of her human blood in my mouth. It was no wonder Edward found her so appealing, and I could hardly believe he'd been able to leave her alive this long.
But no. I would not kill her. Just . . . just a taste.
Her breaths had turned into heavy panting as I took in the blood that had trickled down her arm. I was shaking fiercely as I fought the urge to drain her, but another scent distracted me. A scent emanating from between her legs. A tangy, sweet scent that meant arousal. My arousal, my scent, my emotions were affecting her without my permission. The predator within me was trying to draw in its prey.
I froze. I could master enough self control to leave her alive, or I could master enough self control to leave her a virgin. I could not master enough for both.
Alice had once told me I would cheat on her someday. She'd seen it. And knowing the man I am, I did not bother trying to deny it. I merely asked her if she would forgive me for it. She had shrugged and nodded absently. Now I understood. For while Alice would forgive me for infidelity, she would never forgive me for murder. I had but one choice. I slowly, cautiously let my hand fall between Bella Swan's legs, feeling the heat from her core against my cold palm. Her breath hitched and she bucked against me.
Could I do this to her without killing her? Gritting my teeth against the temptation of blood, my hands flew to the button of her jeans, pulling them down over her hips. Her breath was heaving and light moans left her lips as she writhed on the forest floor. I spread her legs, staring at the place between them where her thin panties clung to her nether lips. They were damp and smelled of her arousal.
I climbed on top of her, resting my body weight on my elbows and staring at her face. The emotions I sensed from her were lust and desire cloaking a deep sense of rejection. Not wanting to exacerbate the rejection, I leaned down and brought my lips to hers. She attacked me. Her fingers threaded in my hair, the scent of the blood still fresh on her arm sending a shudder through my body. She kissed me fiercely, and I returned it, my entire body tense in fighting both the desire for her blood and the urge to pound her body and relieve all the sexual tension I'd been experiencing for weeks.
But I'd have to be careful. She was fragile, breakable in a way that a vampiric lover is not. I pulled my shirt over my head and her nails dug into my back as I kissed her again. My erection thrust against her pelvis, desperate for friction. I let a wave of my lust flow into her mind and she moaned and bucked against me.
"More," she whined, thrusting against my throbbing erection.
With preternatural vampire speed, I removed both her clothes and mine in seconds. My hands found her breasts, and their coldness caused her nipples to stand erect in the cool night air. My lips descended around one nipple.
I sucked and licked her writhing body until she was hot and fevered beneath my cold skin. My mouth descended lower, down her stomach, and despite my coldness, her arousal left her warm and sweating. When my tongue found its way between her folds, she cried out loudly.
"Please," she whimpered.
I knew she battled grief just below the surface of her arousal. I knew that this was just a way to block out the sting of my brother's abandonment. I knew she didn't really want me so much as she wanted to forget him. I knew all this because I felt it coming off of her in waves. But I knew I wanted her and that my thirst would be slaked only by either her blood or her body.
My tongue swirled and sucked at her clitoris, leaving her arching her back and whining as she neared climax. I kept my grip on her hips as light as I could, but I knew I would leave bruises. The hazards of a vampire coupling with a human, I supposed.
"Jasper," she said hoarsely as I continued my ministrations. The juice I tasted on her nether lips was nearly as sweet as her blood. I flicked my tongue against her clit once more and she came apart. Her entire body convulsed, and an enormous wave of relief and pleasure flowed from her mind.
Before she could recover, I climbed on top of her once again, spreading her legs apart even farther and positioning myself at her entrance. Her body felt searing hot against my cool erection. She was panting and trembling as she recovered from her orgasm. Her core was slick and ready.
Without one slow thrust, I sheathed myself in her hot, tight body. I shuddered at the sensation of being inside her. She was tight, so tight, and so warm and wet. Then, I smelled it. Her hymen had broken. She was bleeding.
I pulled out and descended between her legs. Don't bite. Don't drain her. The mantra pounded in my head as I tasted the sweet ecstasy of her virgin blood. Just a tiny trickle. A tease. The taste of her blood in my mouth sent me into a frenzy. I leaped onto her and slid into her again, pounding her mercilessly as she cried out beneath me. I could sense a whirl of emotions from her: pleasure, yes, but mostly pain and a willingness to succumb to pain if it would only help her forget. She was willing to die if it meant forgetting him. Well, I wasn't going to kill her, but I would fuck her until she couldn't think about him any longer.
My erection pistoned in and out of her tight wetness over and over. I could feel my own climax building in my loins. The warmth of her human body was more than I could have craved, almost as good as the taste of blood. I continued to thrust until I knew my orgasm was too near. Pulling out roughly, I stroked myself and watched my release spill onto her stomach and breasts.
I nearly collapsed with exhaustion and satisfaction. I sat back on my heels and stared at her. She had a few faint bruises forming on her hips, and her labia were swollen and puffy, but overall, I had been gentler than I could have hoped to be.
"Jasper," she croaked.
I could see tears forming in the corner of her eyes. I could feel the grief threatening to overtake her again. I sent a wave of apathy to her, and her body stilled. I dressed her carefully, seeing the blood on her arm but able to ignore its lure. Once she was fully dressed and comfortable, I sent one last emotion into her mind: calm. She curled up in a ball on the forest floor. I heard the sounds of humans looking for her nearby. With vampiric speed, I stood, dressed, and disappeared into the forest.