Here's a new one-shot. It focuses on Corey Feldman, Corey Haim and their hopes, passions and desires for Stephanie as they keep a close watch on her. They long for her and want her. It's very intense – well, as intense as I tried to portray it in my mind. But I hope you like it anyway!

Disclaimer: Genius Jeff Franklin owns Full House. I own the stories I write about the characters.

"Passion and Desire"

There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea.
You became the light on the dark side of me.
Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill.

But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and,
The light that you shine can be seen.

Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
The stranger it feels, yeah.
And now that your rose is in bloom,
A light hits the gloom on the grey.

There is so much a man can tell you,
So much he can say.
You remain,
My power, my pleasure, my pain.
Baby, to me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?

But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and
the light that you shine can be seen.

Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
Stranger it feels, yeah
And now that your rose is in bloom,
A light hits the gloom on the grey.

Yes, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.

Ooh, the more I get of you,

The stranger it feels, yeah.

(Yeah)

Now that your rose is in bloom,

a light hits the gloom on the grey.

Now that your rose is in bloom,

a light hits the gloom... on the...grey...

--Seal, Kiss from a Rose

************

Stephanie Judith Tanner. The blonde hair. The blue eyes.

And…here we, the Coreys allow a smirk to grace our mouths…the body of a dancer.

There are so many things she invokes in us. And these are things we remember very well.

Also – now comes best part – we remember crimson, passion, and heat all too well.

We remember our tongues lashing her big sister's body like serpents and scourging the naked beauty like heated whips.

"Aah! Coreys, please, stop!" D.J. pleads as we, the Coreys, take both of her arms and bite into them.

"Oww!"

"I don't think so, D.J.," the Felddog purrs. "Just relax; it hurts at first. But you'll get used to it."

Then I, the Haimster, let go of her arm, glide like a snake up to her face and cover those cherry red lips of hers with my own.

We remember the thrill of shared hunts, of heads thrown back in ecstasy, throats exposed, and the beauty of hands and mouths smeared in vital juices.

We remember caressing and bathing her big sister – D.J., as Steph called her – in showers of lust and blood, and then drowning her in her own unchained desires.

What we long for now is to see her move and sway to our death-dances, our sensuous spider-embraces. We know so many things, and long to share them with our Stephanie.

Unlike other teen idols we have heard about, who wasted away on drugs and alcohol, and eventually died (from committing suicide or drug overdose), fell off the Hollywood radar, or had their careers ruined, we thrived and grew wild and deadly.

Very carefully, we watch for the moment when she calls our names, so that we may bask in our own response to her and all the desperate emotions she evokes. We are teen idols of horror, and she knows that and doesn't hide from it - not one little bit.

Instead, she smiles at us – such a beautiful smile – and says she understands. This touches our hearts, for before Stephanie came along, no one had told us they understood us or what we were.

Instead, they ran from us…from the passion…from the love we so longed to show them and give to them.

But the minute we heard Stephanie tell us those very words that they didn't…we felt…something we didn't even know existed…

And yet, she will love us regardless and allow herself to become as we are, cursed and blessed in our many ways, and her heart will bleed. It will be beautiful, and we know, having studied beauty for such a long time.

We will be tender and human with her, as we never were with her sister, and when our mouths touch hers in a kiss, it will mean something and promise much.

Our hands will slide over her reverently and our arms will wrap around her, holding her close, as she responds and touches us in return, drinking in the feel of us.

The limits of our control will be tested, but we will not break. She will worship every part of us devoutly, and pay tribute to our limbs, skin, lips, eyes, hair, and store all our smiles and secrets carefully away for future reference. We will be gentle, slow and strong as we move in her and our heat melts the pain she has endured because of losing her mother in a car crash caused by a drunk driver.

These are the desires of us, the Felddog and the Haimster.

They will be fulfilled when the time is right.

We know this.

She will too.

Then we imagine the scene…

She lies in her bed, us on either side of her. We take her in our arms and envelop her in our blazing fires of seduction and passion. She fills the air with such beautiful cries that are like music. We kiss our way up and down her unclothed body, causing her to arch like a cat into our hands. We smirk and purr into her ears, causing her to accept her fate.

"Our darling," purrs the Felddog, "we love you."

We grow aggressive in our frustration and command her to join us and enter into excess, opulence and obsession. We will insist that she prove her devotion to us, her lovers, by destroying a child abuser who is both our enemy and hers.

All we, the Coreys, desire is to see her hunt, take her prey, and feed. For that wondrous first time we each remember so well – and still recall vividly even after our names and pasts have deteriorated and crumbled to dust, like the bones of our first sweethearts and our first kills. We all wish to see her delight in drinking of life itself.

We sense her sister's fear and vehemence now, and taunt her in our piercing, laughing cries. We vow to come back for her and to share her later. We tell her that Stephanie is ours now, and she belongs to us as all girls do.

Then, as we lure the child abusers and molesters to us and pull them to their deaths, we make sure to keep Stephanie in mind.

We remember her blue eyes – so beautiful, like the cobalt sky on a warm summer's day.

Her blonde hair is so intoxicating. It has such bounce in it. We long to run our fingers through it as we release it from its bonds. Its coils remind us of the yellow corn snake coiled up and ready to strike.

Her face…

It's like a pretty doll. So white. So perfect.

She is quite a lovely thing, indeed.

So it is no surprise that we have chosen her for our own.

Such innocence…

Such beauty…

We know she is a picture of childhood. Without her, we are nothing.

So with that, we wait – for the moment where we call to her, and she willingly answers and gives in to our desires.

After all, she is so many things to us.

Her beauty is something to be desired, and we will take it from her, if she wants us to…

Now, we watch as she sleeps.

Like an angel she is.

With that we slip under the covers and over to her.

She begins to writhe like the proverbial snake as we slip unseen and unfelt into her.

There is something wrong, an intuitive corner of her mind protests – there is a hint of dead meat on our breaths, and fresh blood on our lips. Despite this, she gives herself utterly to us. The air hanging about her may be foul, but its taste is sweet, conjuring powerful memories of her first taste of passion.

There was always a darkness walking in us, but Stephanie no longer fears it and no longer cares about the damage it may inflict on her, for she can face and endure it. It has hurt us too, and we need her. We are of the earth, of lands unknown, of primal instincts and dark, pounding, restless animal blood, but with her we are gentle and loving. We govern the elements but we do not govern her.

As we move in her, the blood in her veins calling to us, we smile and hope for the day when it will happen…

She will be our red harem snake, our prized prisoner encased in thin crimson silk and living for our gratification, our little slave-princess covered in jewels and little else. She will be enslaved by us for all her life and will live and die by the look on our face. Oh, yes.

Soon, her voice will speak in sultry tones and teasingly remind us of how wonderful we were, even in the movies we starred in, so much more delectable than her first taste of love. Her eyes will glimmer like an asp luring her prey. And then she will smile, all curves and cruelty, as she finally lets us taste the spice of her skin.

She will adore us and we will rule and master her. And we will at last smile our twisted, gloating smiles – the smile she secretly likes so deeply – as she presses her lovely forehead to the ground and kisses our feet.

We two Coreys hope, like we always do, that that day will come.

We will be patient, as we have learned patience is a virtue.

We will have Stephanie in our bed.

And she will dance for us and with us…

Forever…

Whoa...

Did I just write that? Well, if it is good, I hope it's one of many masterpieces.

~Nightcrawlerlover