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fire and ice

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It was supposed to be Edward.

It was always supposed to be Edward, it was always ever going to be Edward.

Only then it wasn’t.

There she was, tied up like an old dog that keeps running away and in came a bright blonde woman with fire in her eyes and a weapon red as the blood she spilt. But her eyes were only for the taller, darker girl.

The girl came to untie her and her long, dark – sometimes curling and sometimes straight – hair licked at her arms the way that old novels always said flames licked at the walls of burning buildings. She felt undone and exposed with that hair licking her skin, and light fingers on her wrists that burn more than the ropes that have been there for hours.

Afterwards there would be many voices to explain all kinds of things, Slayers and demons and vampires and the forces of darkness, but it sounds like an infomercial and she should feel more secure with Edward’s cool fingers wrapped between hers but all she can feel is the flesh of the girl with the hazel eyes and the long hair on her wrists that burn and burn.

She has a brief memory of a girl in the seventh grade touching her shoulder and it burned. Her whole skin felt on fire and there was a moment when the other girl seemed to feel the same, but she turned away. So she had always shied away from fire and flames – the burning and the heat could eat you alive until there was nothing left of yourself but the fire that burns and burns. It was easier – so much simpler – to sink herself into the cool depth of Edward – the darkness that stays stagnant rather than the heat that has always threatened to expose her.

Later when they are a tangle of limbs and lips in a closet and her heart is pumping in her ears, she thinks back to the stark, black cold of Edward’s embrace but it only lasts for a moment because there is that long hair licking her shoulders and she’s lost in the heat and the flames and for the first time, all she wants is to be consumed and left standing in the dust of the world with those hot fingers (now tangled in her hair and tickling her hips) twined between her own. 

Because they could make the world dust between their feet and still be standing, sated, when it is all over. 

And still want more.