Many, many thanks to the amazing stronGyu on tumblr for the prompt. Actually, it was just a Jelsa edit that I fell in love with, so I'm basically just supplying words to genius.

This fic will be short, spanning only less than two thousand words a chapter (not sure how many chapters yet, exactly), which is slightly embarrassing. Also, sorry for the awkward sex – I'm limited to my own (pitiful) experiences. But I think I've read enough M-rated fics to at least vaguely describe that yes, the sausage goes into the bun.

TURNED
prologue

by Pseudonym P

Her lips are like ice, but they start a fire in Jackson Overland that nothing but her touch could put out.

The irony wasn't lost on him—the freezing cold of her skin lights up a spark and it spreads, untamed, through him like a forest fire, the forbidden kisses filling with painful longing and overwhelming desire. His fingers burn as they trace through the smooth skin of her bare sides, up her back and into her soft hair. Her tongue slithers out to taste her, to know her, to have her. His heartbeat is irregular, painful, lovely.

He remembers briefly that she had told him that I love your heart. I like it when it beats underneath my own. Like… like I'm human again.

Her tongue meets his in a passionate dance and his brain short circuits and it's painfully amazing.

He relishes the way her naked chest arches up into his in apparent pleasure and he grinds his hips against hers, feeling her bare skin against his. In response, sharp teeth nip at his lower lip and he bites back, groaning when she moans. He traces her teeth with his tongue, feeling the tips and finding himself intoxicated—he doesn't feel like he could ever get enough of her. Ever have enough of her.

"Jack," she whispers urgently in between their kisses, a soft sound that lights a fire in the pit of his belly. He attacks her then, lips smothering hers like the only goal they had was to cut off her oxygen supply and she gasps before he swallows the rest of the sound. He lets her finish first before he comes to his own completion.

He breathes heavily as he hovers above her. He pushes aside his dark hair and looks into her eyes—sharp, bright, beautiful, dead—and he has never felt his heart seize in emotion as it was doing now.

"Elsa," he whispers back, voice hushed and heavy with satisfaction. He kisses her forehead lightly.

The woman—Elsa, her name was—purs in delight, tracing his jaw with porcelain fingers. "Lie next to me." It wasn't an order, more of a suggestion—but either way, Jack would do it.

He would do anything for her.

Jack follows, sliding out of her—she shudders lightly at the loss of him—and lying on his side next to her, propping up on an elbow. He stares down at her with a smile as the moonlight makes her pale skin glow dimly. He finds it beautiful, enchanting. He finds it fitting.

He leans down to press his lips lovingly to her collar. She giggles and leans her head to capture his lips with hers.

"Happy birthday, love," Elsa says softly when they part, her words caressing his heart like a feather. Her fingers trail down to his chest to his torso, and back up his body to caresses his cheek, and Jack leans into her touch, kissing the palm of her hand.

"Thanks," he whispers earnestly. He pulls up the sheets from their feet and tucks them underneath, shielding Elsa's naked body from the cold. She doesn't really need it, but the sweetness of the gesture isn't lost on her. He shimmies himself down until he lies next to her. "I'm twenty-seven now."

Jack feels Elsa stiffen underneath the arm he had wrapped around her waist. "Jack," she warns, obviously not feeling up to having this particular conversation.

He pretends like he didn't hear it. "I'm your age."

Elsa bristles this time. "Jack, don't," she says, a hard edge to her words.

Jack pushes. "I'm ready."

"Well, I'm not," she hisses, pushing up from the bed and away from him. She pulls a sheet to cover herself, shooting him a glare, and he catches it with unflinchingly. She gets up and walks around, searching for her clothes.

Jack sits up and follows her figure with clouded eyes. His brows furrow. "Elsa—"

She shakes her head vehemently and picks up something from the floor. "Stop, Jack. Please."

"Why, Elsa?" he almost roars, but holds himself back. This is Elsa, his Elsa, and as much as he loves her with his heart and body and mind and soul he was honestly sick of this—sick of her treating him like a fucking kid, like he didn't want her, like he didn't need her. "Elsa, my family is dead, I have no one else—"

"No," she says firmly, trying her best not to cry.

But Jack is persistent. "No what, Elsa? How could you—I'm invisible here, no one sees me—"

"No!" Elsa's crying now, because she's frustrated, because she doesn't want this for him, because he doesn't fucking get it. He's been asking for a year and she's never going to be ready. "I'm not doing this to you!" she shrieks, yanking on her underwear and dropping the sheet to wipe away tears of frustration. "I am not letting you live like me!"

"Why not?" Jack pushes himself up from the bed and strides over to her without a care for decency. He takes her by the elbows and forces her to look him in the eye. "Why not, Elsa? I love you!"

"I am not doing this to you!" she repeats, voice still shrill. She tries to back away from him, but Jack just pulls her close and crushes her lips to his, wrapping a hand at the back of her neck to hold her, feel her, have her.

"I love you," he says against her lips, moving to her neck. "I love you. I need you."

"I'm just going to hurt you," she whispers, voice frail and flimsy, helpless to stop his ministrations on her body.

It's not worth it, she told him then. It's not worth the pain and the loneliness. It's not worth finding people and watching them die. I'm not doing this to you. I'm just going to hurt you.

He leads them back to the bed and he pulls away, cupping her cheeks in his hands. He looks straight into her eyes, a bright blue that set his heart aflame with desire whenever she would look at him.

He always, always wants her to look at him.

"There's nothing for me here," he tells her sincerely, and Elsa tries her hardest to stop her tears. The ones that escape, Jack kisses away. "I love you."

"I love you," she chokes, and Jack kisses her again, pushing her down to the bed and gingerly tugging off her underwear, touching her and holding her and kissing her and feeling her, making her feel for the second time that night how much he loves her, how much needs her.

"I love you so much," he whispers again—again and again and again because he cannot tell her enough—when she was close to her peak, and Elsa was delirious with emotion. "I love you so much, Elsa. I want you—I need you. Just you, always you."

"I love you," she gasps—again and again and again but he knows, he knows it by heart—her hands fisting in his dark hair, "Just you. Always you." She comes with a sharp cry and Jack hugs her close, her release triggering his own. He pulls out of her a moment later with a kiss and lies next to her, pulling Elsa to rest comfortably on his chest.

Silence shrouds them in a thick haze of satisfaction.

"I love you," he says, and he feels Elsa smile against his skin.

"I love you, too," she whispers, "So much, Jack." She clings to him tighter. "I hate fighting with you."

"Me, too," he whispers sincerely, caressing her bare shoulder with his thumb.

"I just wish—" Elsa sighs. "I don't want you to feel what I feel." After a moment, she continues, "It's not… easy, Jack. Being what I am. You will never see the sun. You'll always feel hungry. You won't be happy."

"I will have you," he murmurs with utmost certainty, like it's a fact. "I will be happy."

"How can you be so sure?" she whispers.

Jack presses a kiss to her hair. "Because I trust you."

He hears Elsa sigh, almost in defeat. "You should never trust a vampire, Jack."

"I don't trust a vampire," he tells her, pulling her up to look at him. "I trust Elsa." He kisses her again and the argument dies in her throat. It was quiet.

"If we were both human," she says suddenly, bitterness coating her words, "this would be a lot less complicated." Jack laughs, because it's true, somewhat. But if they were both human, they would have never seen each other. If they were both human, they would live far away, long away. If they were both human, they'd live different lifetimes.

If they were both human, she'd be dead.

"If we were both human," he replies without missing a beat, "I would have never known happiness the way I know it with you."

Elsa stays silent. She places a chaste kiss to his chest and clings to him, and he breathes in the smell of her.

Sorry for the annoying post-chapter note, but I would like to know if any of you would like a playlist to listen to while reading this. Let me know in a review, if you wish.