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lust was one thing among many that drove them to this.

rosalie/sam, carlisle/alice, esme/charlie, alice/jacob, jasper/bella, emmett/tanya, edward/leah


1. Chapter 1

Rating 5/5   Word Count 554   Review this Chapter

i fell out of heaven
to be with you in hell
my sin's not quite seven
nothing much to tell


he wasn't used to this (he prentended he was).
but long legs he's never touched, corn silk hair he felt in his fingers were the signs of his weakness, the ones he often tried to hide.
those golden eyes, they burned his soul, naked.
she smiled at him; flustered, continued walking.
emily (rosalie) emily (rosalie) emily (rosalie)
one look, her breath cold daggers on his neck jeering him, the heat.

his hair tossed on golden autumn leaves, legs that matched his length,
and long sighs that came from somewhere (deep) inside.
goddess on top, glorified from the greek myths he heard over and over.
emily emily emily emily (in his head) rosalie rosalie rosalie (from his mouth)
"i'm not saying emmett's name, either."


she's been in the dark, from the moment they've met.
hiding in corners, in her futuristic mind and hiding in stained bedsheets holding more than lies (truth).
with every murmur, slight shock of their bodies, he's convincing himself he's helping her.

i'm helping alice when she kisses his chest.
i'm helping jasper when she pushes him down.
i'm helping my family when he hears his name.
they both didn't believe his lies, no matter how often he repeated.
"call me esme, i'll believe it."


loneliness seeks company.
she looks for another excuse, reason to come over and stare and wait.
she holds his sturdy, rugged, healing hands (warm enough to hold her heart).

this is wrong esme; carlisle, bella-
but she never felt so right, in strange hotel bedrooms with a man whose broken heart perfectly matched hers.
he says, "cullen."
she hears, "swan."


best friends. best friends. best friends. remember?
it doesn't explain why she's in a too-small bedroom with a pair of long brown legs dangling off the mattress.
her body underneath, his consisting of a hammering heart and too-warm body heat.

frenzied kisses, wrong wrong wrong.
hot iron hands that burn her cold face and for a second he sees bella instead.
so does she.


it was a cat and mouse game, really.
desire/fear want/denial lust/love
her brown hair covering her face (her unstable heart).
fear pulsated from her into the room and he savored it.

her plump lips mouthed edward.
he covered them with his, removing traces of his name and she didn't fight it.
(all is fair in love and war)

with satisfaction, he hears a jasper from her, in nothing more or less than a sigh.


he had a thing for leggy blonds, especially the ones he had to work for.
he always liked his challenges that way.
straddled, strawberry-blond hair covering his eyes and her laugh overtook the room.
"out playing with the big girls?"
he nodded, whispered, i won't tell edward if you don't.
she smiled and locked the door.

he always imagines rosalie, only better.


he danced with danger more often than when bella pirouetted with it.
he was more in love with in than bella.
in her eyes, she was so goddamn perfect (unlike sam), she could cry of frustration.
dealing with her was like broken glass: better to leave broken but he couldn't help himself.

lovemaking turned into careless fucks, acts of vengeance, redemption, and atonement.
every thrust of his hips proved her useless, caught in emotions she didn't want to feel.

she always loved the look on sam's face the day after.
he never looked at bella the same way, either.

lust i haven't craved
a sainted boy I'm not
i take it to my grave
aside cursed on rot