We do not own Twilight or any of the Twilight universe.

That is all owned by Stephanie Meyer.

We are however, owned by these characters.

They speak to us, but we wish they did a lot more. ; -p

Welcome to the profanity laden, smutty deliciousness that is the collaborative efforts of De and Dena.

We decided to amuse ourselves by writing alternating chapters of a story without consulting each other on plot development or any other trivial details. Well, it ended up being pretty entertaining and we are just so damn happy with ourselves we have decided to share it with you.

So without further adieu, we present to you: My boys.

BPOV (Dena – Monksmama)

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The steady beat of the bass vibrates up my heels and through my body. With my martini in one hand I stare down at my phone in the other. Jake's name is highlighted, one push of a button and I could end this.

These goddamn flashing lights are starting to give me a headache.

A new song starts and the club harpies to my left squeal and run to the dance floor, spilling their drinks on the way. I can't help a snort. Some Betsy Johnson, one gay friend and a cosmopolitan and every skank bar whore in New York thinks she is Carrie Fucking Bradshaw. How the hell did they even get in here? Exclusive, VIP club my ass.

Ok, deep breath. This is becoming ridiculous. I look back down at the phone. Yes I am way too good for this shit, and he is a fan-fucking-tastic lay but he's just so damn clingy. Of course I manage to find the one gorgeous, always at the ready, degree in cunnilingus, booty call buddy that wants a relationship. He wants to cuddle!

If that boy didn't know his way around a pussy better than Dr. Ruth, I would swear he was gay.

No, no definitely not calling Jake. I'm not that desperate. I throw my phone back in my bag and knock back the rest of my drink. Sometimes, believe it or not, even the sex isn't worth it.

I scan the club again and catch sight of a definite possibility. Dimples, Dark curly hair….hmmm…kinda looks like superman. Yum, you can undress me in a phone booth anytime….

Ugggh, no good. Look at those muscles. Roid rage, no thanks, been there done that. I prefer to be the one with anger issues. Plus his balls are probably the size of peanuts.

Not exactly the salty snack you want a girl thinking of when you show her the goods, Mr. Kent.

What a shame, he is a pretty one. Maybe, just once….. No. No! If I wanted a lay with issues I'd just call Jake. At least then I know I get a first class, grade-A, mind blowing orgasm-and-a-fucking-half in exchange for the crazy.

I slap my hand back on the bar to get the bartender's attention. C'mon buddy, remove your nose from Big City Barbie's pseudo cleavage and fetch me a drink. Where do they find these losers? Jesus, must be a busy month down at the actors guild. This one seems particularly dense, the bars of New York must be scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Alright one more drink, one more lap around this club where libidos go to shrivel and die and I'm going home and calling Jake. Hopefully it will be late enough; I can just scream out my sexual frustrations and boot him out the door. Not desperate enough for the cuddling, not yet anyway.

I turn from the bar, new drink in hand and catch the profile of a tasty specimen.

Strong jaw line,

mmmm I wanna lick it

Prominent cheekbones,

bet they would feel nice on my thighs

Is that red hair?

Never had one of those before

Aggravated, annoyed expression

Perfect baby, you look just as tense as I am.

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I get up from my barstool and leave my drink on the bar.

Thank you Misters Martini and Rossi but your services are no longer required, the annoyed red head will be taking it from here.

I stalk over to him, swaying my hips lightly as I walk. The perfect balance of 'you know you want to fuck me' and 'not trying.'

I catch sight of the Jessica Simpson wannabe bar minion trying to grind away on my prize.

He looks pissed. This is going to be too easy. I can't help a laugh.

They both turn to me, him in amusement and Jessica in annoyance.

God, he's even better close up.

She makes motion to reach for his arm and I shoot her my best "get your hand off him if you want to keep it attached to your body," look and like a good little girl she takes a step back.

I move in for the kill. Under the guise of whispering in his ear I press my body close to his, my hip resting right on his incredibly obvious and equally impressive erection and lean into him.

You are so mine already.

"You looked like you needed to be rescued." I whisper softly in his ear. Breathlessly, just enough warm air to give him shivers.

"You're a regular hero." He growls back into mine. Warm, rich, deep, gravel. He sounds like sex. "I guess I owe you now."

Damn, ten words and he just ruined my favorite fucking La Perla.

"Oh" I sigh back into his ear.

I drop my voice lower. "I'm counting on it."