Author's Notes: The Twilight characters are all so interesting and all so ridiculously ficcable. (Any strange combinations anyone wants to see?)
e n d l e s s t h e s t o r y
.
She can read his face.
He can read her mind.
He's not sure if he likes this or not.
.
(her teeth on his skin, her hands against his throat — this he does like, and she knows it)
——
She watches him hunt.
Ever the gentleman, his lips remain white, his shirt pressed. (she wonders if he says grace before digging in)
.
He watches her.
Razor sharp, her teeth slice; blood splatters — on her face, on her shirt, in her hair. Drips from the corner of her ruby lips down her chin. (he wonders if she could possibly know how much he wants to taste her bloody skin)
——
The door slides open; she leans against the frame. quiet as the grave.
Her golden eyes speak to him in a language he's heard before, once upon a time, pools of rich brown, the monster gone and they lived happily ever after. (He can almost remember the name.)
They say something to him, and he thinks of tender flesh and singing blood and life, bella, life!
The corner of his mouth lifts; her movement sings in the darkness.
Bedsheets rustle and stone lips meet.
Just another page in a book called eternity.