Hey, people. I know most people were put off by the mention of "OC" in the description, and more past them by the 'slash', but to those of you who have endured, I commend you. But I have to spell out the differences between my story and the original Twilight.

First of all: Jasper is single, Edward is with Bella, Alice is Jasper's sister, and everyone else are in the couples they were in the book.

Second: The story is being told from my point of view, I am the OC, and I've already read the book.

Third: Weidness= the norm in this world.

Finally: I do not own Twilight, it belongs to Stephenie Meyer, if I did, the following fiction would be the real books.

I love rain, I really do. I never understood why people complain about it. In fact, I have a good list of reasons why its good. 1. Its refreshing, 2. without it, we wouldn't have life on this planet, 3. if your washing machine broke, how else would you wash your clothes? and 4. It's the best way to get pheromones out of my fur.

Confused? Yeah, I thought so. Let me explain.

When I say fur, I'm not talking about shaggy-dog fur, but barely two milimeters thick. Its a bonus for me, as a gay teen that likes to keep up my good looks, because it means that I don't have to shave; face, legs, or crotch. And its a clearish red color, so I can get a tan, but if you catch me in bright light, I have a bloody red tint to me. It's scary looking in strobe lights, indeed. And now you'll probably be wanting to know about the 'pheromones' thing. Ever since I started puberty, the scariest thing on earth, I've been able to secrete a series of body chemicals that effect the basic parts of human minds. Depending on how acute someone's senses are. Which means that it wouldn't work on someone with a cold, but if i start putting out 'lust' anything with a nose about half as powerfull as a animal's, they will get SO HORNY.

Back to the present:

I'm sitting up on a branch in a tall oak, belting out Nickleback's 'if today was your last day' into the pouring rain, taking my daily shower provided by nature due to my current housing situation, about which I am not displeased at all. I used to live with my parents, but my dad was a drunk and killed my mom, which I reported to the police that night, and I was passed down to live with my Aunt Stephanie and cousin Russel, down in Louisianna. And let me tell you, they are the best.

We lived in an appartment, three rooms, two bathrooms, small kitchen and dinning room with adjacent lounge, and it was pretty good. They were awesome, they let me curse and drink a bit as I was only fifteen when I left as I am at this moment. But they kept me on track with my studies, keeping me in the 90th percential in my grades, and I got all the lessons of life: defend yourelf, don't let your enemies know your emotions, pain is an illusion, lie like you mean it, run like you stole it, fight dirty, and don't get caught.

These might sound bad, but that's only if you leave them on their own. I, however, just incorperate them into everyday life. Which is what I had to do when I have this weird urge to roam the rooftops at night, it kept me safe. And the roof-roaming brings me to the present: Why I'm sitting in a tree in the pouring rain. My aunt heard about my plans to backpack to and through Canada, and said that I could, as long as I kept in touch with her while I do so. I am three credits away from graduating Highschool, and I'm only a sophmore, so I could just go for five months, colectively, over the next three years, and I graduate!

I'm currently somewhere in the state of washington getting a free shower, and hoping that no one comes through here while I am naked twenty feet off the ground, with all of my belongings in a doublesized camping pack in another tree nearby. The rain was starting to let up, so I climbed down from my perch, finding my wet clothes and wringing them out, changing into my dry clothes at the same time. I quickly cralled into a cave-like place, the bottom of a huge oak was hollow on the inside and the flat inside was raised up off the wet ground as well. I had carved an opening higher up in the cave as an opening for the smoke from the fire I set up to dry my clothes, and self, post 'shower'.

I shook my short bristles of hair over the fire, my toned chest warmed by the onslaught of the hot light, my nipple ring reflecting it back in an arch on th wall. My hair was usually black, but now it had a redish tint along with the rest of my body from the fur. My eyes were also glowing with the fire, turning to the pattern of red-stained silver paint spun out from the center onto a black canvas. I knew I was too tall to be in a tree hollow, as ti was only about five and a half feet at the highest point in the cave, with my height being six foot three.

I stretched out over the bed of my backpack, and began to dose when I heard a sound a ways off. It sounded kind of like an animal screaming and running from a predator, but it was the pedator that I couldn't hear. And that, to me, was odd, because I had exceptionall hearing when I'm away from technology for a while.

I slid down the tunnel entrance to my hidey hole and saw, far off, a blur of a honey-yellow top with a dark patch just under it, and a taller length of navy under that. It looked like a person, but no person could move that fast, so I figured it was a weird animal that lived around here, because I have little to no knoledge about anything beyond house pets. It seemed to be chasing an elk, or something else with horns, and it was gaining on the animal. I was content to watch the chase, expecting to get a free gore show, but, just as the blur was about to catch the elk (I had just figured it out)it stopped, and I could see what the blur was.

It was a guy, probably taller than me, but from the distance, I couldn't acurately tell. The honey-blonde blur was his short hair, longer than mine, and was curled slightly. He was pale as living hell and he had a weird glittering effect coming off of his skin, but I just gave the last to something like the bloody red tint my own skin held at that moment. I guessed that he was just aknolegding me for being his audience, but soon he was on me, straddling my waist, feet holding down my legs and hand pinning my arms. He had a sweet scent of bloodlust radiating off of him, and, if he moved that fast, I knew I was going to die. And I knew that I had one choice.

I quickly started to release the lust pheromone, the closest phero to bloodlust, and, just to be safe, I released twice as much as I would need on an average human. His black eyes gossed over and he leant forward, looked me straight in the eye and sucked on my lower lip. For some reason, it didn't feel as odd as I expected having a stranger kissing me would feel. It even sparked a fire in the pit of my stomach with every roll of his hips. I hissed and tried to wrench my hands out of his grip so I could feel the firm flesh of his ass under my fingers. I parted my lips and allowed him in, and I almost moaned out loud at the sweet taste he had. It was cool and passionate, our tongues twisting and fighting, him winning, and our clothed erections rubbing together frantically.

He leant down into the crook of my neck and I could feel his teeth on my jugular, and if he was hunting big game without weapons I could imagine what he could do with them. I arched my neck up to him, I wanted to feel those teeth in my skin.1 But no matter how much I bucked and pressed my neck closer he just tensed and pulled away. So, to get the final stimulation I needed to get off, and don't blame me, I hadn't had any kind of sexual stimulation in the past four months and I was so desparate, I returned the bloodlust to him from before and I was rewarded with a sharp pain in my throat and a harsh grunt came from his throat as he started to suck on the wound, drawing my blood into his mouth in gulps. I started to come but it wasn't quite enough. But it was as the pain, thinner than than the pain on my neck, rushed through my veins and pooled into my cock and exploded out in the final moment of extasy.

He was still drinking and I was starting to get lightheaded. I added in the phero's of grief and exhaustion and he jerked back from my neck, blood spattering from the sudden movement. He looked me in the eye and something just clicked. An understanding. He kissed my lips lightly and leant back down to the open wound, dragging his tongue over the cut, sealing it instantly. I knew something was up, but whatever had come from his bite that had caused the delicious pain had circulated into my stomach, as all venomous2 substances do, causing me to turn onto my knees and hands and crawl into a nearby bush and vomit up a silvery substance with a bitter taste.

I rolled back onto my back, looking at the spot where the blonde used to be. I was confused for a few seconds before I felt the cool arms that had restrained me wrapping around my wais and pulling me up gently to leant on the tree. He crouched down in front of me, in a position that I vaguely remembered meant piggybacking. I collapsed onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck for support. He picked me up easily and started to run, fluidly and calmly, but the surroundings were flashing by at alarming rates. But it just felt so right for him to be doing this that I really didn't care as the post orgasm sleep over took me.

1. yes, I have a biting fetish

2. You see, poisonous substances are dangerous both if injected and injested. But venomous substances aren't lethal if you eat them. That's why if you eat snake venom, you just get sick, not die, though when you're throwing it up it feels like dying.

Thank you for reading this, despite the OC and marty stu-ness I have in this. I promise it will have more of a plot, and possibly sex, in the next chapter. please give me you criticism along with any other encouragement you may have.

That's all for this chapter. . .REVIEW MY LIFE'S BLOOD!!!

2000 words, Gosh!!