pairing/character. jasper. leah. | jasper/leah. hints: sam/leah.
disclaimer. not mine.
word count. 253.
written for. twilight uncanon drabble-a-thon.
summary. “Stop trying to feel,” she’ll murmur, lips wet against the dead pulse of his neck.
notes. feedback is ♥. (also here.)
She doesn’t speak to him; kisses trail down his neck in the form of unspoken words he’ll never hear as she shoves him against the wall, hands on his skin, under his shirt, up his arms — he can’t keep track.
Leah’s all sharp angles sticking oddly out, what makes her her is unreadable as she’s an incomplete puzzle with the pieces missing. Waves crash down at him, frustration melts in with anger and lust, sins he’s long forgotten to make sure he will never commit as her sharp teeth bite into his skin. “Stop trying to feel,” she’ll murmur, lips wet against the dead pulse of his neck.
Jasper’s hands glide up and down her back; he can feel the pieces missing of her, the parts of her that Sam has taken away. She’s an apple fallen from the tree before her prime. She’s never had the chance to be ripe as she’s rotting on the ground, being covered in leaves that caress the wind in autumn as she lays forgotten on the grass.
She knows his thoughts; he prints them on her skin, his fingers are the ink to the paper of her body, and her lips tilt in a grin, her eyes laugh and she pushes against him harder.
Her lips caress his, they press down hard, her teeth sink in and she grins as blood doesn’t seep from the cut that should’ve been. “We’re just two dead souls, baby,” she’ll murmur against his lips, her laugh tickles his throat.