As The Hunter finally catches up to the hunted, which of them will be the prey? A 2 part one-shot, a bit of lemony intrigue written in the canon spirit.
The HuntDisclaimers are on my profile. I own nothing. Rated for sexual content. Thanks to my brother and my BFF for pre-reading this, and to my Twilighted Beta oceanwaters2006 for validating on Twilighted, and helping to make this better.
2. The Hunted
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Disclaimers are on my profile. I own nothing. Rated for sexual content.
Please do not post anywhere without the author’s permission.
Part 2 of 2
It was eerie and beautiful here in the forest at this time of evening, a soft fog beginning to drop, collecting like an ethereal presence among the trees.
I lifted my head slightly, my tangled hair heavy with mud from the puddle where I lay. My hands relaxed and I loosened my grip on his mussed-up hair. My arms were rubbery, and I didn’t trust them to support me just yet; I allowed them to slide uselessly into the mud at my sides. I looked down at his head and saw that his eyes were closed, his face nuzzling into the crease of my thigh. I felt his lips on me, laying gentle kisses on my still pulsing sex. He was loving this; my scent and my taste, and the fact that I’d just exploded in his mouth. His satisfaction was obvious, and the sight of his face lovingly buried in me for his own pleasure was the most arousing thing I’d ever seen.
Giddy, but no longer weak, I raised myself onto my elbows, and watched him raise his piercing eyes to mine. There was something surreal under their liquid gold surface, an unfathomable depth. When he caught and overpowered me just a few moments earlier, it was the undiluted want glittering in his eyes that made me still, because up until that moment I was strategizing a way to tear off back into the forest to continue my exhilarating escape.
Fat chance. As he pushed me down on the ground and held me there, I thought then that he would have me. And as he appraised me with those hypnotic eyes, I thought then that I would let him. But then he restrained me only to assault me with his eager mouth and I was overwhelmed. He had ripped my shirt to pieces… with his teeth! At this thought, liquid warmth spread through me, and suddenly I knew what I wanted to do. He had awoken an animal in me, I felt a primal urge to growl, and didn’t resist it. The sound was thick between us, the resolve plain on my face, I was sure.
I raised one outstretched hand to his face. My palm ran a trail of gritty mud across his cheek and his ear, and I grasped a handful of his crazy hair. I levered up off my elbow and sat up, pushing him backwards, forcing him to take his turn lying back in the mud of the forest clearing. The sun was behind me and its dying glow illuminated his skin to make him look like some sort of shining diamond god. Already darkened with lust, his eyes followed mine as I straddled his hips. I held my weight off him, resting on my haunches, feeling the breeze on my recently exposed and moistened flesh.
Under normal circumstances, I might have been mortified that what I now wore amounted to crotchless pants, but the stage was already set. I was feeling the moment and following it through wherever it may lead and I pushed away burgeoning feelings of impropriety. I felt powerful in my determination. Still grasping his hair with one hand, I now lowered my other hand to his throat and closed my fingers around it slowly. Exerting just a little pressure, I tightened my fingers around his throat, wanting him to know that things were going to be done my way from now on.
I took a moment to look at him, to really see him lying beneath me. We were both splattered with mud, and the spring rain continued to drizzle over us, mingling with the last rays of the sun as distant thunder echoed in the forest. Water pooled in the slight depression in the centre of his chest. His t-shirt was soaked and plastered to his torso, defining every dip between bands of lean muscle across his chest and shoulders. An amber glow radiated from his skin and he lay vampire still beneath me. His physique was perfect; masculine and strong and carved from glittering shards of marble. His lips parted slightly and in my peripheral vision I saw movement as he raised his arms, intending to touch me. I thought I saw a glint of amusement in his eyes at the liberty I was taking, and damnit, I was not having that! Immediately, my fingers tightened on his throat and a hiss erupted from between my teeth. Wisely, he stopped moving, and brought his hands up alongside his head, laying them palms up in the mud, allaying the threat. There. Now he was mine, and knew it, the amusement replaced with wariness.
Wanting to stake my claim, I lowered my face to his, and sucked his bottom lip gently into my mouth. I tasted myself there; my own scent was all over him. It was beyond sexy; it was electrifying. The warmth I’d felt earlier was now a constant heat winding its way up my body from the pit of my gut. I licked his lips, tracing their outline, dragging and flicking my tongue across his mouth, again and again. I watched in fascination as errant rivulets of water ran into the corners of his mouth, his sharp teeth glistening between slightly parted lips. I lapped at the fragrant spring rain, and was rewarded with a ragged sigh, torn out of him despite himself. And all the while, he lay still as stone beneath me, watching, just as I had watched him earlier.
I let go of his hair slowly, leaving it spiky and caked with mud, and my hand snaked its way down to his shoulder. I firmly traced the contour of his upraised arm, then downward again to his chest, my palm flattened, fingers flexed. I held his throat firmly with one hand while the other explored the planes of his stone body. I watched his half-lidded eyes suddenly spring wide open as I shifted my weight and momentarily pressed myself down against him. His long fingers twitched and hands formed into fists as I applied more pressure against the erection I clearly sensed beneath his jeans. More than anything else at that moment, I felt powerful.
Raising myself up into a crouch, I brought my exploring hand down to his button fly, and slowly peeled each button away from its hole. The irony was not lost on me; he gave up his self-control when he mauled me in his rush of lust earlier, and I was now firmly grasping that control in my hand, taking my damn sweet time. I thought I saw appreciation of that same fact flicker briefly in his eyes as they bored into mine. I felt the back of my own hand against my slick skin as I unbuttoned the fly of his jeans, leaving the waistband closed and his belt still buckled.
It took all my self control not to groan like a wanton when I realised there was nothing between his jeans and … him. I forced my face to remain impassive, willing my body into submission. I’d be damned if I gave my hard-won control away now. I mentally steeled myself and manhandled him out through his unbuttoned fly and into the cool spring rain and dying sunlight. His dangerous feline eyes narrowed with anticipation.
Ever so slowly, I lowered myself down. Obediently, he lay still as I molded myself to him, both my hands now pressing down on his shoulders. Like a cat, I rubbed myself all over his body, flattening my breasts against him, marking him with my scent. I licked along his throat, nibbling his ear and the line of his jaw, my nipples dragging across his chest. I rolled myself up and down his hard torso, craving the wonderful friction of this uninhibited contact, our slick skins sliding against each other, our clothes tearing away into strips between us. A grin threatened to take over my face as his hands twitched with his need to touch me, and I bit down hard at the junction of his neck and shoulder to remind him to keep still. I was instantly rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and a lowly growled curse.
A thrilling rush swept through me at the notion of holding him in my thrall like this, and I leisurely licked the mark I had made, drawing the imprint of my teeth with the tip of my tongue. His long, sinewy body felt coiled and ready to spring from under me, and I knew I’d pushed him far enough. I slid myself lower down his chest, until I felt his erection directly against my slick, wet and very exposed centre.
Immediately, we were both deathly still. I raised my eyes to his face, and like a deer in headlights, was impaled by his intense glare.
Watching those piercing eyes, I twisted and gyrated myself downward until I felt him right there, right there… and oh God he was so hard, good, long and perfect as I wound my way down and down and further down onto him until I enveloped him, and it was so wet, so hot, and so damn tight that my head lolled back and I moaned my pleasure and my power and my exhilarating domination of him into the forest around us, while he panted and groaned like an animal, his head sinking back into the mud.
All l I could do was to brace my hands against his shoulders and grind myself into him and onto him and all around him and then to claw my fingers into his biceps and pull myself back up over his slick, glistening, demi-god body only to do it again and again and again and oh God… to fill myself up with his hardness, as his perfect hands fisted and dragged through his own wild hair and through the raked up filth all around us.
I marveled at the feeling of my own body shaping itself to sheathe his so perfectly and tensed my muscles rhythmically around his rock hard length, watching his face contorting between pleasure and disbelief as I created the ebb and flow over him. He was glorious beneath me, his heavy, half-lidded golden eyes blackened with lust, watching me so intently, watching my rain-soaked mouth and my tongue as it worked itself to my top lip and explored the wrinkled skin there. I exhaled moan after moan into his throat and his neck and his stone chest.
The rays of the dying orange sun sent rainbow ricochets from his exposed, wet skin directly into my face, stunning me with intensity of colour and light. I heard his voice made gravelly and hoarse as he expelled growls and moans, timed to match my repeated assaults on his body. He flexed and pushed back against me, hungry for the friction we created together, until I clawed my fingers into his chest, locked my elbows, pushed off and straightened myself up over him, wanting to see what I’d created.
I’d worked him deep into the muddy forest floor, and it sucked at us wetly, at my knees and at his back. I rode him at my own pace and loved the squelching and moaning and grunting sounds we made together, abandoning ourselves to this sudden onslaught of lust. I gave up any pretense of propriety and plunged my hands into the mud, bringing fistfuls of it to my chest and smearing myself with it, rubbing it with open palms into my own breasts. His eyes wide open now, he watched me roll my nipples between my fingers and a broken, half-whispered profanity forced its way out of his mouth.
It was so primal and base and filthy that I ground myself down on his hardness clenching my muscles, grasping his hips firmly between my thighs, our eyes drawn to the place where we were joined. We both watched in fascination at the erotic image of our bodies coming together, grinding and slapping, made for each other. I sensed his eyes traveling upward and grasped myself firmly for him, digging my fingers into the flesh of my breasts. I felt him stiffening beneath me and lowered my face to his, my hands sliding up his wet arms and clasping both his hands in mine, stretching them high above his head and driving them deep into the mud. I licked his ear and whispered ‘…mine’, then sank my teeth into his neck once more, hearing his teeth click together as he roared his climax into the canopy, bucking under me and sending rivulets of mud flying up to meet the rain.
Spent and panting, we sank down into the mud together, squelching and slapping into the wet, our arms and legs intertwined.
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“We can’t go back looking like this.”
I looked down at myself, bottom lip wedged between my teeth. The wind was picking up, and my shirt hung in tatters around me, flapping around my bare breasts. Where my jeans once hung, there was now just a denim waistband, filthy rags hanging from it. I noted that all the belt loops were still intact. That was good; maybe I could hang some tree branches off them and make myself a skirt. I giggled at the unbidden and clearly ridiculous thought.
His mind was apparently traveling along the same path.
”Perhaps we could skin the deer before we bury them. I’m sure we could slap together a Betty Rubble tunic for you.” Laughter danced in his eyes.
This game had panned out well. I didn’t really know what had inspired me to run earlier, let alone to attempt evasion while he pursued me. I imagined it was the same thing that inspired him to lose his inhibitions and play along, running me down like prey until he had caught me.
We would need to retrace our steps back to our hunting ground and bury the evidence of our hunt in case humans came upon them in the woods. We would at the very least dismember them to help other animals carry off the carcasses. 5 deer, otherwise untouched but drained of their blood, might raise questions if found. I quirked a brow at him as I panned down his body, over his mud smeared, carved marble chest and down to the impossible V of his lower torso, the perfect fine line of hair leading down along his hard belly to meet remains of his jeans, which were now flapping like a hula skirt around his legs. I felt the wry smile on my lips.
“That’d be great. And while we’re at it, we’ll make you a moss loincloth.”
He laughed, and his joy carried on the wind, bathing me in shared happiness. Fulfillment bear-hugged my chest, threatening to knock my wind out.
Fed up with the sound of flapping fabric, I tore the remains of my clothing right off. His laughter died, and his eyes darkened. He followed my example, and soon stood glorious, marked with my scent and deliciously naked before me. We stood there, drinking each other in, both bathed by the dying sun, skin refracting the light. The distance between our bodies was electrified. It felt like an aura, sparking and fizzing in the air around us with some kind of indefinable heat. He raised one hand to me, and ran the length of his index finger along the curve of the underside of my breast.
“I’m sure no one will mind if we don’t return tonight, Bella. Let’s take our time walking back. It’s so scenic here, don’t you agree?” his voice was low and despite his innocent words, urgent. Perhaps our game hadn’t ended, I thought, pleasantly dizzy.
I wouldn’t have known anything about the scenery. I was drowning in his liquid gold eyes, barely registering the rain on my skin. My skin tingled where he touched me, and I felt a sigh on my lips. My filthy hand lifted of its own accord and came to rest lightly on his hip, fingers tracing the hard line of muscle that ran down and inward, towards gently curling hair, his lean belly, and oh my God… I couldn’t even form coherent thoughts. Dear God, he was beautiful.
And he was mine.
“Edward.. yes.” I breathed, uncertain if I’d said it out loud.
No, I was sure our family would not mind whenever we finally made it home, be it tomorrow or a week from now. They probably would not mind that we returned stark naked either, even if we looked like mud caked, dreadlocked, cave dwelling savages.
And if they minded, well, we had been married for 142 years. They’d get over it.