Caution: This story contains graphic rape and molestation, and if you're a Nahuel lover, this is sooo not for you unless you read the last sentence. Point is, don't like it, don't read it.
Renesmee Cullen exhaled gently as she stared out the window, into the crisp winter night. In the calm silence of her room, the six-year old hybrid felt as though she were floating on Cloud Nine, imagining her Jacob's smile—a smile so incredibly bright, the sun seems like a dim sphere in comparison. She was pleased her parents were out with the rest of the coven back at the main house; therefore, her father was unable to read her thoughts about her favorite shape-shifter.
She smiled to herself, twirling her bronze tendrils around her index finger.
From the safety of a tall tree (one of the many that surrounded the cottage), Nahuel peeked through Renesmee's window. He memorized how the white satin nightgown flowed loosely from her blossoming body. The youngest Cullen member was truly a goddess wrapped in modest clothing as she dwelled upon shallow soil. God, Renesmee was beautiful—an unblemished equilibrium of a blushing human and a marble immortal. How could Nahuel administer the strength to remain concealed the flimsy tree branches and midnight sky?
He, indeed, could not stay put.
The male half-breed leapt to the open window, grasping the light blue shutters. Renesmee gasped, backing away.
"Sorry, sorry. I had no intention of frightening you, young Renesmee," he apologized, murmuring in his velvet Spanish accent. "Please, steady your kind heart."
Renesmee nodded reluctantly, and smiled innocently. "Geeze, Nahuel! If I was capable of being scared to death, you would have me six feet underground already."
"Ah, I assure you, sweet one, I would never dream of the cause of your untimely death," Nahuel said, smirking nefariously.
"Yeah, well, next time you should consider knocking. That's why doors were invented," she replied.
Nahuel took notice to how Renesmee took a step back toward her door, and was hurt by this action. His Renesmee thought . . . Well—He couldn't easily deny that every fiber of his being was increasingly aware of how her nipples puckered from beneath her gown—so innocent, so vulnerable.
She cleared her throat suddenly. "Anyway, Nahuel, it's late and my dad will label you as a 'creepy creeper,' so you should probably leave," Renesmee suggested.
"Renesmee, Renesmee," he tsked, striding closer to Renesmee to fill the space between them; Nahuel wanted their bodies to be entwined on her full-sized mattress. "Tonight, I must confess my passion for you."
"That's very nice, Nahuel, but I don't feel the same way," she gulped. "Now, go. . ." Renesmee turned away.
The other hybrid grasped her wrist roughly and pressed her figure comfortably close to his. "Hush, everything is fine, don't you see? Beautiful, you are the other ingredient of my soul that I have desired for too long. I'm going to claim you as my own."
"Wh-what are you talking about? Claim me?" Renesmee repeated, twisting to break free.
"Sh. . ." and with that, Nahuel covered Renesmee's mouth with his free hand, as he threw her on the bed.
Renesmee trembled, fighting and screaming beneath Nahuel as he used his hands to rip open the top half of her nightdress, revealing a pair of two hypnotizing, porcelain, and perky bosoms.
"My sweet angel, do not fear me during this time in which you evolve into a woman. All I crave is to worship your marvelous magnificence—better than that mangy mongrel can," Nahuel said, emitting a low snarl at the latter statement. Sincerity was present in his dilating teak orbs, pleading with Renesmee to feel this love for him.
"Nahuel, please don't do this! Stop! I won't tell anybody! Just, I'm begging you to, stop!" She beseeched, using her ability to communicate.
"I cannot, Renesmee," Nahuel retorted, stripping himself from his trousers and undergarments. His erection sprang free, throbbing and aching to be buried in her core.
He leaned further down, his breath warming the girl's quivering lips. The temptation was too much to bear, but Nahuel swore that he would treat her well—slow and steady. And so, Nahuel allowed himself the delicious, sweet taste of Renesmee Cullen's mouth; the flavored reminded of fresh blood squeezed from a jungle cat and red apples, further exploring and discovering the miracles of Renesmee's unwelcoming tongue.
Meanwhile, Renesmee writhed for freedom, but this worked only to assist Nahuel's aroused state.
His mocha-colored hands roamed tenderly downward, playing with Renesmee's modest chest, and tweaked the pink nubs. Her breasts were so unbelievably supple; they felt so smooth against the heat of his eager digits. Beneath her shaking body, Nahuel could feel her heart beat like a snare drum with his palms.
It wounded his soul like a sharp dagger that his own immortal beauty was unable to earn Renesmee's mutual lust. Was it really so much to request an ounce of the love she felt for that hideous mutt to be directed at him? For once in his life, all Nahuel wanted to feel something—anything—that was real and true; and from what he had often seen from Renesmee, she was as gentle as a running river, and was kind with all creatures. Nahuel aspired to be Renesmee's devoted lover. Yet, that he knew that fantasy would never be brought to life when the girl foolishly loved Jacob Black.
They're not even the same species!
"Relax, dear girl," Nahuel cautioned, grazing his lips over the girl's throat, over the pulse point; the extravagant scent of Renesmee's blood caused his mouth to water profusely. "The more you fight our connection, the more this next step will hurt you, darling."
Renesmee adorned a repulsed glower. A bolt of strength shot through her veins, shoving Nahuel off her and ran at full speed, into the depths of the dark woods. Her game excited Nahuel, however, and the adrenaline possessed him to be much faster. He caught up to Renesmee effortlessly after a ten-second head start. Using all his might, Nahuel pushed her onto the forest floor.
"Naughty, little girl," he chortled viscously, straddling her hips. Renesmee wriggled to and fro, up and down, against Nahuel's agonizingly erected rod. If this feisty creature wanted to play rough—fuck it all—he would show her the definition of rough.
Nahuel shredded her remaining bits of underclothes. Taking a moment, his retinas teak irises soaked in all of Renesmee's white-rose glory and how perfect she looked in the ecru moonbeams, as he pinned her forearms to the coarse dirt.
"Oh, if only you would cooperate with me, so that I'd give your gorgeous body the treatment it deserves. If only you would let me adore every centimeter, let us unite as we are meant to," Nahuel sighed, sorrowfully shaking his head. "However, you may imagine me as your pet if you so desire.
That being said, Nahuel slowly plunged into Renesmee's arid center.
"No!" she screeched desperately. "Mom, Dad, anybody! Help me, please!"
Unfortunately for her, Nahuel was beyond mercy and compassion now, and thrust in and out of her tight virginity. Renesmee shivered tremendously, unwelcoming to force of Nahuel's swollen staff pumping in out of her. The damage was done, whilst Renesmee's innocent blood leaked from the space between her battling legs. Nahuel, like a gluttonous monster, couldn't control himself, quickening his pace. Her tense opening squeezed him like a vice, and he truly believed that the earth would soon split in two.
Six strokes later, he rode out his high, grinding deeper into Renesmee as she shuddered, broken.
"Renesmee!" Nahuel shouted at the top his lungs, generously giving the girl his essence. . . Oh, God, he contemplated scornfully, seeing how tears brimmed along the female's beautiful, doe eyes. As reeled from his massive climax, the man came to his senses abruptly.
What had he done?
"No," he yelled, shooting up from the cold ground in the jungle, covered in cool sheen of sweat. His eyes darted around his surroundings; Renesmee Cullen and the forest faded into a dream-like oblivion.
A dream. It was all just a dream.
Nahuel took a deep breath to help calm his raddled nerves, disgusted with his subconscious. Nessie was just a girl still, and never would he commit such a ruthless crime to her body and soul. Never.
You're not your father.
Author's Note: I know. I'm sick.
-No, I don't think Nahuel is close to being a monster that would rape Nessie. This fic was written purely for the sadistic in me that wanted to explore the psyche of a child conceived from forced sex. I promise you that I'll write another fic where he's a lot nicer.
-As always, these characters all belong to Stephanie Meyer.