II
Like an angel from heaven the boy tumbles from Edward's arms, landing in the centre of the bed, painted in blood and seed and venom. His head falls to the side, his throat arches and, for a moment, Edward sees the whites of his eyes. Then the boy shudders, and stills.
Edward drags the back of his hand across his mouth. Whores aren't supposed to scream like the boy did. But they're supposed to beg too and the boy didn't do that. He puts a long, pale finger to the boy's chin and turns his head. Fresh blood pumps from the wound on his throat, scarlet ribbons sliding onto the sheets.
In the four years he's been on his own he has dined on the blood of murderers, rapists, wife-beaters, thieves, pimps, addicts and prostitutes. Their blood is bitter, their scent sour. Not sweet; so, so sweet. Sweet like the boy who lies before him, thighs spread, throat bloodied.
And it breaks Edward's heart; his cold, dead heart feels like it could burst out of his chest or else shrivel up into nothing. And if he could cry, he would.
His hand slips under the boy's cheek, thumb gliding over the cool, smooth skin. Suddenly, the boy turns his face into Edward's palm, his lips part softly and Edward snaps his hand back as though burnt. He thought the boy dead. Venom is beading at the point of his fangs but he doesn't move. Is this his chance? He thought he killed him. He could save him too.
/ \
"Edward." James is crouched on the hood of a car, right outside of the hotel. Strands of lank hair fall in his eyes as he cocks his head. "Been hunting?"
He slinks off of the car and the windows flash red. Edward is shoved into the wall at the end of the alley, brick dust crumbling under his back. James' tongue darts out, flicking under his upper lip. He presses closer and lets out a moan.
"You taste like blood," he breaths.
"As do you," Edward whispers.
They kiss again, deeply. James releases the wrists he had pinned to Edward's sides so they can pull at each other.
After a moment Edward breaks away. "A woman," he pants. "Older… She had children?"
James chuckles quietly. "Your tongue tastes all." He presses his own into the caverns of Edward's mouth. He takes Edward by the throat, sliding his tongue along his teeth. He's not as tall as Edward and balances on his toes to lick away the last taste of blood. "And you," he moans pulling back, sagging, "a boy. A young, naïve child… A virgin?"
James always gets it wrong. Edward's head falls back against the wall. When he sucks in a huge breath through his nose he can smell the boy's blood on his skin. "A whore…" he breathes.
James is hard against his thigh. He kisses Edward again, nails scraping along his neck. "He tastes good. Did you drain him dry?"
Edward's hand tangles in James' hair. "As I fucked him bloody," he hisses.
James grunts. "God, I bet he was tight. Was he tight?"
"Yes," Edward croons.
James bares his teeth. His hand pushes into Edward's pants. "How'd he take it, on his knees?"
"Thighs spread..."
James moans hard. "It's a pity... he's dead," he pants.
Edward pushes off the wall and shoves James to his knees. "Yes," he says as he pries James' jaw open, "yes it is."
/ \
"Hah! Hah!"
He's choking.
"Hack."
Gurgling and spluttering, spitting and coughing.
"HUH!"
He rolls onto his side and retches. A string of red saliva hangs from his lip. He swipes a hand across his mouth but he can't support his weight with just the one arm. He collapses again, hands scrabbling at his throat, legs twitching. He passes out a moment later. Black rivers of dried blood stain his skin and the sheets are red and sticky. But Jasper's chest continues to swell and breath continues to wheeze from his parted lips.