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He is in my senses

One-shot Nothing can compare to the way he drives my senses crazy. How the hell does he do it?!

I usually don't write non-canon couple stories, but this one was calling for me at 6:30 in the freaking morning. So enjoy.

1. Sensory Overload

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 963   Review this Chapter

He was deep in my senses…

His taste is what brought me back for more. The feel of his tongue on mine, his sharp teeth nipping at my lips…claiming me as his. Every kiss with him was never forgotten, for his taste ensnared my mind. He brought me back with a single seductive smile that told me there would be more to come fairly soon.

When he pushed me against a wall and drove his tongue into my mouth, I had never tasted such sweetness mixed with the bitter taste of thought. He thought too much---I always told him that. But of course, I was the last person in the world he would listen to.


I would see him everywhere. Stolen glances at each other gave me shivers, and even the visions of him would replay in my mind before I could stop them. I thought about his eyes even when I was taking a shower or when I was deep in the forest, alone and hunting. He was unmistakably perfect of course, for all of us were. But what made him even more perfect was that he was the one lone person in our house. The one hardest to catch and keep. I would never keep him…just play with him from time to time.

When we would pass in the hall of our house, his bronze hair would catch my eye and the darkness of his eyes would make me worry. Silently, I would tell him to go hunt in my head. Of course, I was the last person in the world he would listen to.


I could feel his skin on mine. A secret touch was all it took to drive me into a powerless state. He was the only one who could do that. Whenever I was with Jasper, he had the power to do anything with his feelings, but I was the one that influenced Jasper’s own feelings to make him want to do anything. It was a cycle with Jasper--it was a straightforward match with him.

When we hunted together, his slim, pianist, fingers would lightly graze against my forearm or perhaps my thigh. I would guiltily wear smaller clothes when I went hunting with him. I craved more attention from his hands, from his lips on my skin.

Without me, he would have nothing, but without him, I would still have everything. I kept telling him that, but I was the last person on earth that he could listen to.


I could hear his footsteps behind me before anything else. I would see visions of when he would come near me, but nothing could prepare me for when he would speak slowly and softly in my ear and lightly place butterfly kisses onto the back of my neck.

“You are beautiful, but you are not mine,” he would whisper seductively before walking away, the echo of his footsteps leaving an imprint in my mind.

His music kept me inclined to what mood he was in when I entered his room. I did not have to have Jasper’s power, for his mood was instinctive through his music. I would tell him to increase the volume so we wouldn’t be heard just in case…but I was the last one he would ever listen to.


His smell was irrevocably the most desirous thing I’d ever filled my nose with. I would bury my nose into the crook of his neck and his scent would intoxicate me. There was a moment in which after he came back from hunting, he would take a shower and I would wonder why his scent was thrown across the house. When the water hit his impenetrable skin, the aroma would slowly come to my own room.

He told me not to come to his room when he took a shower, for the temptation was too great, and we could never have more than we do now. I had set no boundaries, but they were unspoken agreements. If I would tell him, then he would never have listened, for I was the last person he could listen to.


Then she came, and everything changed.

I was ultimately and absolutely blissful that he had found love. I was the first person he told about anything, even though I already knew it would happen.

He told me he that she was his singer, and I gave him my first sisterly hug.

He told me he loved her, and I almost wept with happiness. If I could cry, I would have.

He told me he felt perfect when she was around, and that he could never have anyone else. I bought him new clothes and kissed his cheek for the first time in friendship. We were best friends.

He told me he wanted me to be friends with her. She had become my best girl friend.

He told me he wanted to leave so she would never be endangered by us. I gave him space and only came back when I saw her die. It would have broken both of our souls if she had died.

She told me he had called. My visions told me he would die. I tried to keep strong for her.

I had almost killed him myself when I found him, for I was absolutely terrified of thoughts of his death. I told him never to do something as stupid and irresponsible.

He told me to shut up and give him a hug. I did.


He may have been a sensory overload at the time before her…but now he was simply my brother in every way possible.

I told him that I didn’t mind sacrificing a bit of myself for him before she came, and he listened to me.

He always listens to me now.