Disclaimer: I don't own anything Twilight, all SM.

I have written another story, "All I Need" just a little o/s that was for the We Heart It TwiFicZone Blog Contest. Didn't win, but please let me know what you think. Alice and Jasper, highschool and first love.

Thank you to Dellaterra and TruceOver for their eyes, brains, and suggestions. Please leave me love. I always like to know what you all think.

I stood outside her house. I hadn't seen her in so long that I feared my first reaction might be too much for either of us to handle. I fought the painful urge to climb the tree outside her bedroom window and instead listened to her wander around her old room. Her father hadn't changed much, with the exception of switching out the crib for a bed.

She had taken off her shoes and was walking barefoot. I loved her delicate feet. I wanted to run my tongue across her high arches, then place those thin, fragile ankles on my shoulders as I slipped inside her. Everything about her was so susceptible to breaking. I almost wanted to snap those pretty little ankles to keep her from going anywhere. Maybe someday I wouldn't have to. For now though, I would simply have to imagine it.

I listened to her sigh, rearrange books, and turn on her computer. I had been standing there since she arrived in this town. I wanted to introduce myself properly; I just needed the right time. Fuck it. I'm so fucking sick of this. What am I waiting for? I'm not performing some fucking ritual that requires a goddamn virgin bride. I could do it. I could have her and leave her intact. Mostly. One time wouldn't be enough though. The first time would go too quickly. Not for me; if anything I'd have to speed things up, figuratively, of course, or she wouldn't be able to handle the friction. Regardless of how ready she would be for me – and she would be – at some point a human female's body wouldn't be able to keep up. I didn't want to hurt her, at least not to the point she couldn't accept my body.

I worked to shut off my brain so I could focus solely on her movements. She was on the balls of her feet as she moved around her room. Toe walking had become her private way to soothe herself since doctors had told her mother she ought to have leg braces. Not that it mattered; Renee thought the behavior was cute, and physical therapy would have required too much work on her part.

She eventually grew out of it, but when she was alone or nervous, she would bounce around on her toes and pace. It was a habit I loved. It made her thin calves taut. I wanted her in heels. Four-inch, narrow, spiky heels with her legs bare. I did enjoy silk stockings and garters, and they would have a place in her wardrobe eventually, but first, I wanted to see her skin. My mind tried to conjure up every sexy outfit and short skirt I had ever seen on a woman, but nothing had the desired effect on my brain or body.

Skimpy lingerie and costumes all became too clichéd, too promiscuous. But innocent cotton panties didn't work for this fantasy either. No matter what I put her in, I wanted it all off in the end. Except for the shoes. Her frail little body, stretched tight between thick, coarse ropes, with nothing on her but painfully high heels. Even if I were to shatter the talus bone with a press of my thumbs, visually, her ankles would remain beautifully intact. The thought of her heavy scent of adrenaline filling my bedroom, thickening the sweet perfume of her blood as she pulled against her bindings, had my body aching for her. Were my veins filled with blood rather than venom, I am sure the majority of it would be pooled below my waist.

I hated that I had left her, but in retrospect, it appeared to be the best choice I could have made. I had regained some of my narcissism and I practically reveled in my own self-indulgence. It had been so long since I had allowed the monster free reign, I was thankful that it still existed. Not that I didn't want to care for my precious girl, but the pathetic sycophant I had become was killing the man in me. The first time I found a girl since having left Isabella, I realized I had nearly suffocated the vampire within me as well.

She had a full, rounded figure that wouldn't feel the hard planes of my body as acutely as my own dear one's would. Her form was soft, but her body belied her raucous personality. She wasn't like the typical women of today who berated themselves for their thick middles and plump, round bottoms.

She sashayed down the street, owning the swing in her hips and the steady, thumping rhythm of her gait. She called to several other women, who I assumed were her friends. She drew attention to herself and laughed loudly with abandon. I considered moving on to another, less-noticeable individual, but at one point she threw back her head and exposed her neck. Something about her loose rolls of flesh, wrapped in tight clothes, gave off a deep, heady scent that made my nostrils flare and my throat muscles involuntarily contract.

I didn't have a type for fucking, and I certainly didn't have one for feeding. However, thinking back, I believe that I specifically sought this woman out. There, in my empty chest, like a solidified lump of lava, sat the realization of the differences between the one I truly wanted and the one I settled for. It wasn't until I had nearly drained the woman called Rosalie that I finally admitted to my deep longing.