Lips of an Angel: A Twilight Drabble
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight (I don't believe in vampires) and even though this isn't a song fic, I did use a bit of Lips of an Angel, and I don't own that either.
It's really good to hear her voice, saying his name.
Jacob Black is enthralled by the way her lips shape the words—they sound so sweet, like the apple of Eden (never his), coming from the lips of an angel. It's not so hard to think of her as otherworldly. She is too beautiful, too perfect, too inhumanly good to be true. Of course, thinking of her as inhuman in some ways hurts more than others (oh, Lord, how he shivers at the thought of how her skin would feel, cold and flawless to the touch). Jacob tries to focus on how she'd look as an angel, with her body bare and skin flushed pink, with feathers in her hair and wings on her back, happy and careless and free.
Of course, with an ever increasingly frequency, his mind halts on those other images of her—her skin not just cold, but a marble-like white, unfeeling and unyielding to the most desperate of touches. The air from her mouth (once nothing but Bella) would be sickly sweet, like perfume tying to cover up the primitive scent of death, and cold as splinters of ice. And her eyes—oh, God, her eyes—red and starved and desperate to hurt and kill and eat and lose herself in her own inhumanity. Jacob sometimes wondered if it was a sin, to idolize such monsters as angels.
Good thing he's an atheist.