Thank you to all of you who voted for ‘Of Love and Silence’ in the competition, I appreciate it so much.

If you would like to read my entry, you can find it ~*here*~. I hope you like it. ~Lost

Fallen and I both independently decided this picture was our favorite. And we wanted to make an avatar of it. But, we decided neither of should have it, since we both love it so much. Just like Rob…

[click the pic for a wicked close-up]

This bathtub one just rocks my world. Amazing photograph. And I am now staunchly #TeamWhitePants… ~Lost

Fallen worked her cute little ass off to create the following magnificence:

Fallen: When I first saw this photo of Rob and the model with their faces veiled, I instantly knew it was an re-enactment, if you will, of a painting I had come to really sort of adore years ago. When it was shown in an English Lit. book, in a class I had taken, I fell in love, but never knew the background or even the artist’s name.  It took me awhile to find the painting online, but was definitely worth the hunt and to be able to post here, on RitD, for the comparison I’ve yet to see any other blog make.

The painting is titled Les Amants, or The Lovers, by a popular artist named René Magritte.

Sadly, according to a Wikipedia article, “little is known about Magritte’s early life. He began lessons in drawing in 1910. On 12 March 1912, his mother committed suicide by drowning herself in the River Sambre. This was not her first attempt; she had made many over a number of years, driving her husband Léopold to lock her into her bedroom. One day she escaped, and was missing for days. She was later discovered a mile or so down the river, dead. According to a legend, 13 year old Magritte was present when her body was retrieved from the water, but recent research has discredited this story, which may have originated with the family nurse. Supposedly, when his mother was found her dress was covering her face, an image that has been suggested as the source of several paintings Magritte painted in 1927–1928 of people with cloth obscuring their faces, including Les Amants.”

Lost: Beautiful, and tragic. Just like my little Fallen…great job, and find. How cool, right?

This Daliday we would like to do a sort of comparison of beauty, if you will….

Lost and I both agree that the real Salvador Dali has this… hauntingly beautiful face and expression in his photographs. Just like someone else we know… *coughsRobertPattinsonwheezes*

Don’t believe me? Check this:

this first photo is Lost and Fallen’s favorite…

Just LOOK at that face… *sighs happily and a little creeped out but not really*

Lost: I remember when I found this picture, and Fallen’s reaction…  Her: ‘Whoa. I kinda like it.’ Me: I KNOW.

[click on the pics below for more wicked close-ups of RitD's favorite artist]

It’s sort of obvious why they chose Rob to play him, no? That’s what I thought *swoons a little, ‘I <3 Dali’ memorabilia falling all over the floor*

Oh and this? This is just too hilarious not to share…

Lost: I read that Rob spent hours trying to prefect Dali’s mannerisms and expressions…I’d say he was a great success. Fallen and I have also both read The Secret Life of Salvador Dali, Dali’s autobiography. I would recommend it to anyone. It was a challenging read, but so incredibly worth it. Salvador Dali was truly a genius, and perhaps one of the most interesting, and addicting, minds in history.

You can find more from Domward’s Mistress at: http://www.fanfiction.net/~Domwards_Mistress

The characters in this story were created, and are owned, by Stephenie Meyer. This is an original,  slash-pairing fiction. NC-17

The Sinner

By: Domward’s Mistress

Fallen: Flashback to Thanksgiving
Dad: *after arguing with uncle for past half hour* Hey, you like Twilight. *unglues eyes from TV screen after New Moon commercial airs to look at me*
Me: Sure.
Dad: What’s that Edward guy’s real name?
Me: I don’t know… *attempts to leave room of staring family members*
Dad: Yes you do! It’s Robert what? Patterson? Pattinson? Which one?
Me: *facepalms, mutters* I don’t know. *hides in Aunt’s kitchen*
Dad: *yelling* Yes you do! Which is it??
Me: I DON’T FUCKING KNOW! *runs to hide in cousins room*

Let’s just say, they ALL know I want it ALL…now. *grumbles* Thanks Dad.

In this poll, please select all that apply, no limit! *wink*

Lost: Since I usually buy everything Rob I want (just waiting for that anatomical latex doll…it’s gotta be in the works), I did good with getting Twilight ‘Scene-it’, the New Moon game (both from my Dad, aww), and an Edward ‘wii-mote’ skin <– from the boyfriend!  Shocking.

Fallen: And even though my Thanksgiving was mortifying… *cuddles Edward blanket* I did get a few Robward items this year for Christmas due to it, so it didn’t end up being so SO horrible… (is also waiting *fingers crossed without shame*)

Please leave a comment with exactly what sorts of Robbie wonders you got for Christmas!

Here’s to hoping you don’t get too…*bites lip, breath hitches* ‘tied up’ this holiday season…click manips for a larger view

Lost: I’ve noticed a plethora of Rob’s with Santa hats on, and I’m going to be honest, most of them *closes eyes, shakes head slowly*, not good. Plus, I feel this leaves out our other friends who perhaps do not celebrate Christmas, but also cherish this time of year as a holiday season.

Therefore, I give you HanukkahRob.  It is tasteless and offensive, much like most SantaRob’s I have had to endure for the past month. I also have made a dirty joke in reference to Rob and a Jewish faith practice.

Don’t get it? I’ll give you a hint: all Jewish boys have this done to them, and it is also a very common practice in America, although not for religious reasons. It is NOT a common practice in England, however…*raises a wicked brow, smirks*

Now that we have thoroughly disrespected two of the major holidays of this season, I would like to share with you a prime example of a GOOD use of a SantaRob. Behold.

Fallen: I saw someone far more fun to sing about than my mother kissing Santa Clause this year…

Really, it’s just an excuse to put up this picture I love the idea of Santa/Elf Slash action…*coughs, smiles innocently*

Merry Christmas! xoxo ~Lost & Fallen

No Limit

By: @RobsLostSoul

I couldn’t believe how fucking lonely I was. I walked back to my apartment by myself, winding through the empty streets of this Spanish town that time had clearly forgotten. I didn’t hear anything but the sound of my own shoes hitting the cobble-stone alleyways, and even though it was a cool night, my cheeks felt hot from the beer I had just consumed at the pub…tavern? Whatever it was called, I drank a lot of beer there. I felt disgustingly full, and I swear I could hear sloshing as I walked.

I gripped my key and stopped short of the street I was residing on. I pressed myself against the edge of the stucco structure I was next to and peeked down to the entryway of my building. God dammit, it’s dark. I couldn’t see a fucking thing. See, there is this girl, or fan or something, that has decided to take it upon herself to just sort of ‘wait’ for me outside my apartment. She didn’t seem to be particularly harmful, but to be honest, I can’t imagine why anyone would exert that kind of energy and dedication on me if they weren’t a little bit nuts. I swallowed hard.

It must have been quite late by now, and the chances that she was there were slim. Not that I was afraid…I just like to be prepared to meet faces in dark, foreign streets. Perfectly reasonable. The coast seemed to be clear, and I shoved my hands in my pockets and quickly made my way to the building’s entry. After stepping inside, I ran up the tile stairs to my third floor apartment, or at least, I thought I was running. Like I said, I had had a bit to drink. Who the fuck am I kidding? I have the tolerance of a 300 kilo man, and to feel like this, I drank like a fucking fish tonight. I tried to stifle a giggle at that as I opened my door and stepped into the dark apartment. It was actually quite nice. I had a view of the town, and everything was quintessentially mission-Spanish. It was definitely a step up from my dingy flat in London.

Suddenly, a pang of homesickness rippled through me at the thought of my wretched little flat that I adored. Filming was almost over, and I tried to console myself with that fact; I would be home in a matter of weeks. Of course, that thought also scared me, because I was returning home to no real job, no sense of purpose or direction, no sense of anything, really. I tried futilely to push those thoughts out of my mind.

I landed heavily on the sofa and stared out the open windows, not really looking at anything except the gauzy drapes that were shivering from the Mediterranean breeze. I rubbed my eyes and blinked when reality slapped me sharply in the face. Tomorrow. Fuck. The scene is tomorrow. Christ.

I sighed and let my head fall back as I stared up at the ceiling while panic started to grip at my chest. You see, this movie I’m working on, and the character I play…well, I am sort of bi-sexual. I of course thought about whether or not I would be okay with this before I took the role, especially because when I first signed on, I was cast as the essentially fully-gay supporting role. And I am okay with it. I mean, I want to be the type of actor that takes roles because they are meaningful, not just easy to do, or whatever. All that aside, the fact was, I was going to have to pretend to attempt in having full-on anal sex tomorrow with another man. And naturally, I have to be the one getting fucked.

I sat there frozen for a time, just trying to even imagine how it might go while my mind kept tripping over itself. While I was wistfully toying with the idea of just calling the whole bloody thing off, there was a soft knock at my door. I about jumped out of my fucking skin. Who the hell could THAT be? Everyone is supposed to down at the pub still… My naturally paranoia-disposed mind started to take over and I imagined a million things. Stalker girl. Burglar. Murderer. I felt almost sober as I lightly crept to the door and listened. Another gentle knock. Shit. I cleared my throat, and in my most intimidating, ‘don’t fuck with me, I’ll kill you first’ voice, I barked, “Who’s there?”

A hurried mumble and deep Spanish accent answered me through the thick, wooden door.

“Robert, it is me. Javier.”

To continue to read ‘No Limit’, click ‘Read More’ below…

I closed my eyes and let out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding, and opened the door. In the dim hallway Javier Beltran, my co-star, was standing patiently, a stack of paper rolled up underneath his arm. I stepped to the side to let him pass, and closed the latch behind him.

“Please, sit down, make yourself…at home.” I may have rolled my eyes when I said that, but I doubt he noticed. The last place this felt like to me was home.

“I’m glad you are still awake. I wasn’t sure you would be after all you drank.” Javier was smiling at me, obviously looking for signs of questionable drunkenness, but I wasn’t going to let him have it. I casually leaned against the bar and started to dig a cigarette out of the package that had been abandoned there.

“So, what’s going on? Is everyone still down at that place?” I didn’t really care. I just didn’t know what else to say. Javier was a nice guy, but to be honest, I just didn’t really know him all that well. In between takes he would always sort of drift off to the other cast and crew and start speaking incredibly rapid Spanish with them. I don’t know any Spanish. All I’ve ever taken is French. None too helpful at this point, all though I do actually have a few lines in this film that are in French, but then I have to say them in a Spanish acc–

“I don’t know. I left early.” He took the rolled up paper out from under his arm as he interrupted my winding train of thought. I finally realised what that was: the script.

“I was hoping you would want to practise…for tomorrow?” He gave me a meaningful look, and I knew what it meant. How the fuck are we going to pull this off.

I ran my hand through my dyed, jet-black hair, and looked at the floor, laughing nervously. “Ah, yes, tomorrow. I was just thinking about that. I mean, what IS the proper expression a man should have when he is simultaneously having a nervous break-down while almost losing his ass-virginity?”

Javier laughed, and shook his head. “I have no idea.” He looked around the dark apartment, found a lamp and turned it on, and then kept looking about.

“Need something?” I lit the cigarette I had forgotten I was holding, and took in a long drag.

Javier shifted his dark eyes back to me. “I was hoping you had something to drink. And a cigarette.” He grinned. I smiled, and shook my head. Bloody moocher.

I tossed the pack over to him and turned to examine my supply of alcohol. I hadn’t bought any of it, I don’t think. Somehow it just ended up here, or people gave it to me. I couldn’t remember. God, I am NOT opening a bottle of wine. This is gay enough. I dug out a well-enjoyed bottle of whiskey and grabbed two paper cups off of the single-burner stove. I dropped a couple of ice cubes into each cup, and I sheepishly made my way over to the sofa where Javier was sitting.

I shrugged apologetically, “Sorry, all I have are these, erm, Dixie cups…” I trailed off as I filled both of our glasses with multiple shots worth of whiskey.

Javier didn’t take his eyes off of the liquid while he said, “I don’t care, I would drink it out of a shoe,” and he threw the cup back.

Not wanting to be outdone, I downed mine as well. I wasn’t going to let the stigma of the English being heavy drinkers dare be tarnished on my account.

“All right, so, first off, this is a bit awkward. I mean, you and I,” I gestured between us as I spoke, “we are both straight, so really, this is sort of ridiculous, I mean, I have no idea what to do.” I laughed loudly and off-beat, letting my arms drop to my lap. “Do YOU?”

Javier swirled the ice in his cup while he gazed down at the script and absently flipped through the pages that were neatly covered in yellow highlighter and underlining. “No, not really. But I guess we will have to figure it out.” He glanced up, and then placed the paper cup to his lips to retrieve any wayward drops. “Where is your script?”

Where IS my script? I used my heel to push over a pile of books and newspapers beside me and bent over to start shuffling through them. “Ah! There you are.” I triumphantly held up my ‘well-loved’ script that was covered in a mixture of notes, reminders, and coffee stains. I began bouncing my knee nervously as I flipped to the part we were going to be performing tomorrow. I was slightly embarrassed to see that I had written a giant ‘?’ at the top of the scene.

Javier saw me looking at the glaring punctuation mark and held up his hand. After taking a long pull off his cigarette he breathed out, “It’s okay, I feel the same way,” along with his smoke.

I read over the scene, and it was worse than I remembered. I knew there was only one thing to be done. Drink more whiskey. I popped up suddenly and went into the little kitchen and looked for a can of Coke or anything to mix it with. I retrieved a half consumed can of Diet Coke and went ahead and filled each cup with more whiskey and a few drops of flat soda. “Cheers,” I said weakly, and raised my glass in his direction.

After taking a big, burning swallow, I announced we should get started. This part is always sort of awkward – where you have to go from speaking normally and as yourself to actually assuming someone else’s personality, thoughts, feelings, and life story. Here, on the sofa of this tiny apartment in Spain, in seemed rather unceremonious to do.

I cleared my throat and began speaking my part when Javier interrupted me.

“Don’t you think we should be standing or something? Honestly, I am much more concerned with the….,” he searched for the word in English, I could tell, “emotional part of it and the touching part of it than the lines.” He raised his eyebrows at me to see if I felt the same way, and I did.

Nodding my head, I stood up and tossed the script on the couch, and ran both my hands through my hair and looked down at the floor. I think I appeared to be a very serious actor getting ‘into the zone’ or whatever, before our scene, but really, I was just killing time and wondering how I was going to kiss this other guy right now. I think when all those other ‘serious actors’ do this same pose, they are just contemplating their career choices or what they are going to have for lunch. It’s all bullshit.

“Are you ready?” Javier was staring at me, and shifting from foot to foot between swigs of his drink.

“Javi, I’ll be honest, this fucking blows.”

“Right, that is why I am planning on becoming very drunk,” another gulp, “and tomorrow as well. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, and I think that is a rather brilliant idea. I’ve got no idea what I’m doing…” I bent down and picked up my own cup and started sucking down more mind-numbing liquid. Right then, between frantic gulps, a funny thing happened. Javier took control of the whole situation. And God, was I grateful.

“Okay, Rob, I want you to be…hesitating to what I am doing, yes?” he spoke rapidly, gesturing with his hands, “Like, I am going to come to you, and kiss you. This should be very passionate, like I have been waiting for so long, and you are finally giving in, but you are very…scared of being a homosexual. Right?”

I nodded my head with vigour, muttering my accord as Javier shook out his hands and looked at his shoes. My heart started beating quicker, and my hands felt cold and clammy as I became Dali, and felt all of his inner struggle. He wanted this man in front of him, he loved him, but he was so terrified…

I lifted my eyes to meet Javi’s and I could see that he was now fully in character, completely transformed into Federico Garcia Lorca. Damn, he was good. His eyes were full of passion as he looked at me, and it made me fucking uncomfortable. I knew what was coming next. I didn’t have to try very hard to act unsure and scared shitless.

I licked my lips nervously, and I watched Javier take two steps slowly towards me, and then rake his eyes over my body while leaning in to kiss me.

“Wait!” I took a step back and almost fell; I was suddenly very off-balance. I giggled. “Wait…” I picked up the script and smushed my finger to the top of the page, surprised to find that my words were a bit slurred. “It says we are wearing all this shit. And then we are supposed to take it off.” I didn’t wait for him to respond and I bounced into the bedroom, apparently full of nervous energy, and swiped two button-up shirts off the floor. I bounded back to where Javier was waiting, and looking slightly confused, and I held out what I thought to be the cleaner of the two shirts to him. He held up a finger for me to wait a moment, and he drained the rest of his paper cup. Good fucking idea. I tossed the shirt onto his shoulder and finished off my own drink, feeling the warmth travel down my throat and into my belly. I glanced at the script again, and suddenly found this all rather funny. I mean it really was.

After composing myself from my silent outburst, I looked to Javier to make sure he was ready. He was just finishing up buttoning his shirt. I smiled to myself. Fuck, I think I’m drunk. I should be drunk always. I like it.

Without saying anything, Javier started the scene again. I don’t know how the fuck he was maintaining such a straight face; he had drank as much as me if not more tonight, and as I stated previously, I have a pretty healthy British tolerance.

I was quickly pulled back to reality when I realised that Javier was touching me, slowly trailing his hand up my arm. He liked to improvise. It made it more real, he had said. He was a good actor. I instinctively cast my gaze down to his hand and watched it and then looked up to meet his eyes. Fuck, that has GOT to look good, real romantic and shit. He began to lean towards me and my heart started beating quicker. Kissing a man was sort of like jumping off a diving board, really. It’s always that first time you jump that is the most terrifying, when your heart is pounding and you feel sick to your stomach. But then, every subsequent jump, or kiss in this case, just gets easier until you hardly think anything of it all and just jump right in.

I was retrieved from my well-formed metaphor when I could felt the heat of Javier’s face emanating onto my own. I swallowed hard at the anticipation of what I knew was going to happen next. His lips tentatively brushed mine in a way I can only describe as…sweetly. I knew this part well. I stood there, motionless, trying to express happy surprise and subtle reciprocation. I slowly moved my mouth against his as he dipped against my lips again, and concentrated on imagining that it wasn’t…anyone. Just a mouth – no face, no gender, no nothing.

Javier pulled back abruptly and looked at me. “Rob, you have to be in this with me. I am kissing you, you know?” He raised his eyebrows to ask for my understanding, but truly I didn’t.

“Right, right…let’s do it again.”

I closed my eyes and tried once again to weave in the emotions that my character was supposed to be feeling and exuding, and while doing so, I actually stumbled to the side. Christ, this doesn’t feel real. How did I get this drunk? Oh yeah… When I opened my eyes Javier was looking at me, unflinching. It made me shift my weight, not because I was uncomfortable, but because his coal-black eyes truly took me off guard with their intensity. Then I laughed. Loudly.

“What? What is so funny?” Javier was laughing too, but only at me.

“Honestly, nothing. …But it is fucking hilarious.” I laughed again, and even the sound of my voice was quite funny at this point. Finally, I composed myself, and for no reason, I felt incredibly serious. It was like the gravity of this role suddenly bore down on me with all it’s weight, and I knew that I could not fuck this up. While I focused, I tried to ignore the fact that the floor seemed to have a definite tilt to it.

I nodded to Javier to indicate that I was ready to begin again, and I told myself that this time I was going to do it perfectly. I was going to be the best goddamn artistic, genius, tortured, bi-curious guy the world had ever seen, and they were all going to love me for it. I stared at Javier with what I hoped looked like passion, desire, and immeasurable angst as he moved towards me.

His eyes, although a bit glassy from the the alcohol he was visibly feeling as well, burned into mine, and I was again taken aback. How the fuck does he DO that? Fuck he is good. He gently placed his hand over my collarbone and traced his thumb along my jawline and cheek as he bent in to kiss me again. I found myself actually getting lost in what was happening, it started to feel so real. I pulled myself back into the scene, and again, I tried to show surprise at how good it felt to be finally kissing my chaste lover. As his warm lips pressed against my own, and he cradled my face, I couldn’t help but to marvel at what a good kisser he really was. I mean, he really was. I also couldn’t help but notice that I wasn’t really acting.

He pulled back and looked at me, and before I could even process my previous thoughts with my slightly inebriated mind, he was pulling my second shirt off over my head. He smiled at me with adoration and desire. He placed his hands behind my head, pulling down, and smoothing my hair. It felt good. I can’t deny it. No one had looked at me with that much feeling, real or not, in ages, and I was so bloody lonely here… Right. My turn. I quickly moved my hands to his shirt and began undoing his buttons, and I looked at him with trepidation and fearful lust while he pulled the shirt off of his shoulders and then urgently moved his hands over my remaining one. He leaned into me, crushing his lips to mine in the most passionate kiss I had ever felt or even witnessed. The room was spinning, and as he pulled away, I was reeling so badly I was hardly able to say, “Let’s try it again.” But I did. I wasn’t even sure why I said it. I wiped my forehead on my sleeve. When did it get so hot in here? And did I really just ask to do that AGAIN?

Not daring to make eye contact with him, I closed my eyes and gave my best impression of being a professional. After labouring to open each eyelid again, I saw Javi waiting patiently, in position, to do the scene again. I let out an internal sigh of relief that he wasn’t looking at me oddly after my request, and I cast my gaze to the floor to signal him to start.

I felt strange. I was so fucking nervous all of a sudden, and my heart was racing at a dangerous speed. That’s the thing, though; I wasn’t just anxious – I was fucking excited. I almost felt I had to open my mouth just to get some air, because suddenly, it felt like I was drowning in this room as it shifted around me. Javier again cupped my face in his hand and he pressed his lips firmly against my own, and I let him kiss me. I couldn’t really even tell you what I was thinking, I was just there, in that moment. And in that moment, all I could feel was that I was submitting to whatever was happening in that room.

His hands made strange motions over my stomach, and I couldn’t figure out what he was on about until I realised he was still in the scene. I felt my face flush as crippling embarrassment poured over me, knowing that everything that I was perceiving was in my own, impaired mind. I didn’t have much time to dwell on any mortification because the sense of Javier’s controlling of the situation was dominating. He kissed me hard now, turning his head as he quickly unbuttoned my last shirt and ran his hands over my bare chest. An electric current shot up my spine at the sensation. I had never actually been kissed before. Sure, I’ve kissed girls, but I mean, I had never had anyone kiss me; at least, not like this.

As my mind swirled and struggled to stay in reality, I fought to also unbutton his final garment, as the scene called for. When my fingertips made contact with his stomach it felt shockingly hot, almost like fire. It felt like a million things were happening, and I was having trouble even comprehending it all when I felt his tongue sweep across my lips. In a brilliant flash of cognition, I remembered that I was supposed to faint in some sort of nervous collapse right then. Thank God, because I was finding it increasingly impossible to stay standing. Then, without any warning, all of my thoughts were focused on a solitary fact that became glaringly obvious. I felt a surge of heat to my groin that could only mean one thing. So, I did what any straight man would do when he is pretending to be a bi-sexual man who is acting out his first hardcore, homoerotic experience: I collapsed.

Within seconds of slumping to the ground, I had completely convinced myself that none of this was real. I was obviously passed out on my bed having an incredibly vivid dream that was playing out my apprehension about my job tomorrow. Clearly.

“Salvador? Salvador? Look at me, Salvador…look at me!” Amazing what the human mind can conjure! It sounded just like him, spot on! I felt a smile curl up the edges off my mouth while I kept my eyes closed and I leaned back against…whatever the fuck was behind me.

“…you see?” His voice was soft and comforting, and I felt his hands sliding from my face, down my chest, resting on my bare stomach. My betraying cock jumped at the touch. Even with my eyes closed it felt like I was moving, and it was actually quite fun. And so was this. I knew the button of my pants was already undone, and grinning, I adjusted my hips to give my now needy hard-on the room it required. Fucking surreal. And ironic. I love ironic, surrealistic dreams… As my internal monologue babbled on, I noticed that I actually heard nothing. I considered opening my eyes, and then I felt gentle fingers at my waistband. Not just fingers, but warm hands. Strong, warm hands.

My breath hitched as I felt the hand dip into my trousers and underneath my underpants. The hand was tentative and careful, and slowly trailed down to grip the tops of each of my thighs. The hand crept back up towards what had to be my now-exposed and rock-hard cock, and I felt a drop of warm liquid seep onto my stomach. This is a hell of a dream. I bite my lower lip and wiggled my hips to urge the phantom hand to continue it’s exploration. I didn’t have to ask it twice, and while the world kept circling, the hand encircled me. Oh, Jesus. It’s like…gripping me.

I think I moaned, but the voice sounded so far away I couldn’t be sure. I was going to have to remember to get pissed like this and pass out more often. The hand which once felt so hot now felt cool in comparison to my own scorching hardness it was holding, and the sensation was amazing. I thrust my hips lazily, smiling to myself at my good fortune at nocturnal fantasies. The hand began to pump my length, and I couldn’t have been more grateful. On an upward stroke, I felt a thumb swirl around the tip of my penis, spreading the pre-cum that had been gathering there and dripping onto my stomach. The thumb knew what the fuck it was doing and applied just the perfect amount of pressure so that I felt an electric currents of pleasure shoot from my cock to my fucking toes.

Then the hand left me. I was about to protest, but I couldn’t exactly remember how to speak, so I just let my head drop backwards, and let out a deep sigh. The hand came back though, and with a vengeance. It even brought a mate. There were two hands now roughly yanking down my pants and while I smirked, I didn’t do a thing to help it or hinder it. This is amazing. I don’t have to do anything, just lie here and be taken care of…Once my clothes were out of the way and bunched at my knees I felt the hands begin a tandem exploration of my thighs, the creases at the junction of my legs, and even around my hips to grip my ass. All of it felt so fucking real; I wasn’t going to attempt to open my eyes and ruin this for anything in the goddamn world.

At that moment I felt something I didn’t recognise at first. There was a warm, moist air that was tickling through my pubic hair, and a something else…something snub and soft that was nuzzling me there and creating the warm air. As my mind just started to grasp what it could be, I went reeling again as the sensation of a pair of firm, tender lips pressed against the base of my throbbing cock.

“Fuck…” I heard the distant voice hiss as the lips parted and an incredibly soft, burning hot tongue slowly trailed up my shaft. When it reached my head, it licked me and the lips closed around me in a sucking kiss. I felt my balls tighten, and I clenched my ass as this passive sensory experience was now demanding more of my faltering and narcoleptic attention.

I have to remember this winning combination, think…what did I have again? Three double beers and five shots? No, three double shots, five beers? Wait… My mind shut the fuck up as the lips clenched around my cock and a new feeling was introduced to me as a warm, wet mouth began sucking at me.

“Don’t fucking stop.” Weird. That sort of sounded like…ME. And the mouth obeyed. I felt dizzy, weak and sick all at the same time as well as fucking thrilled as fuck. That hot mouth plunged itself down on me over and over again relentlessly. When the tongues starting teaming up with it and swirling around my head and lapping at my length, I could hardly breath. The muscles of my stomach tightened and my hands balled into fists at my sides. I knew how dreams worked; if I tried to reach out and touch this thing or open my eyes it would all fucking stop. I wasn’t going to risk that.

God, this blow job was fucking amazing. It was somehow different than any other I’d received before, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. All I knew was that it felt so fucking good that I never wanted it to stop. Maybe I can do that, use that fucking dream control shit. The hand decided to get in on the action, and began cupping my balls and moving them around in a smooth, rolling motion. It was goddamn mesmerizing. I arched into the eager mouth as much as I could without risking toppling over. It was strange, I don’t remember ever feeling so fucking dizzy in a dream before.

“Harder…” I heard a hoarse voice croak desperately. The mouth responded and sucked me down more forcefully and I could feel my cock hitting the back of a tight, gulping throat as the nose nestled into my crotch. I groaned and I started to feel my release building deep within my groin. The mouth was fucking merciless and the tongue and hand weren’t much better. The hand was tugging at my sack now while on every upward motion the tongue wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease my penis with firm and purposeful licks. I felt like I was going to fucking explode.

I teetered on the edge between feeling like I had to puke or cum. My eyes had rolled back in my head behind my closed lids. The mouth stopped it’s tortuous sucking and I felt smooth teeth gently graze up and down my shaft and I about lost it. “I’m fucking close…” a desperate voice whimpered. That sensation of intense pleasure that bordered on pain did something to me, and I moaned without holding back. I felt the orgasm rumbling at the hilt of my cock. The mouth must have felt it too, because between my gasping breaths it came down on me hard and pushed me into it as deep as I could go.

That’s all it took. I felt my nails dig into my palms as my dick started to pulse. The throat swallowed hard around me and that just intensified the tremors that were rocking my entire body. “I’m cumming…” I heard the distant, tortured voice groan loudly in a sweet relief. As my cock struggled out it’s final pumps, I heard my heart’s hammering starting to slow. I struggled to open my eyes then, and I was moderately successful with my left. I briefly saw a pale figure with pitch-coloured hair knelt in front of me, and then…the world went black.

*      *      *

I woke up to a painfully bright room, a screaming headache, and some godawful banging on my door.

“Robert! Robert, get up! You are going to be late! Twenty minutes!” It was Marina, the girl who plays Magdalena. She was sweet, but right now her voice sounded like a screeching banshee to me.

I squinted open my eye and quickly snapped it shut again when I was assaulted by wretched sunlight. Jesus Christ, I feel like a goddamn train wreck. Hit by a train. Whatever. Fuck me. As my senses starting to take in what was occurring around me, I realised that the cold, hard surface my face was pressed flat against was my tile living room floor. I had been drooling there. Christ.

I didn’t move a muscle due mostly to the fact that I couldn’t remember how to operate my fucking limbs. As I struggled to remember what happened the last time I was conscious, images and feelings came flooding back into my mind like a tidal wave. The pub. The cobble-stone streets. My loneliness. Javier. Javier. Jesus, what HAPPENED last night? As my recollection slipped foggily in and out of focus, my last clear memory was of coming home. I must have just collapsed here on the floor shortly after arriving. Fucking pathetic. This also meant that I hadn’t rehearsed for today at all. I winced.

In a herculean effort, I once again fought to lift open the eyelid that wasn’t currently smashed against the floor. I blinked hard, as my painful, and surely blood-shot, eye adjusted to the sadistic daylight infesting the little apartment. Finally, I was able to focus and I saw my script lying open in front of me. Strange. I slowly shifted my gaze and I saw another stack of papers folded open underneath the sofa. What the fuck is that? I forced my head to lift up as I squinted to look at the papers better. I reached out a clumsy hand and slid them towards me. It was Javier’s script. I stared at it blankly and then continued to do so even as stifling realisation quickened my breathing. For a brief moment I thought that if I didn’t act like I knew what had happened, maybe it hadn’t.

I scrambled backwards and looked down at myself. Although my pants were sloppily pulled back up, they were undone around my waist. As my mind raced erratically, I looked blankly at my script until I noticed that there was something different about it. A mark. A line I hadn’t made. A perfectly straight, dark mark was drawn under one of my lines. “No limit.” I stared at it and read it over and over again. As I did, an unusual calm took me over, and I felt myself actually start to smile.

Personal Disclaimer: First and foremost, I again throw myself at the mercy of the Pattinson family.  I truly beyond adore your son/brother/kinsman, that is why I put him into…highly sexual and morally questionable situations.  Hm.  *frowns, looks away* Anyway…I  struggled with this because I actually have tremendous admiration for Javier as an actor, and was incredibly moved by his performance in Little Ashes, and I mean him no disrespect.  Also, I do ~NOT~ actually think that either Robert Pattinson or Javier Beltran are gay/bi-sexual or have done anything like this in real life together.  However, should they like to try, I humbly request to be present.  Thank you. ~Lost

Did you enjoy having no limit with Rob & Javi?  Please, leave a review comment.

[click on the pic  for a wicked close-up]

And since that particular quote is so dear to me, Fallen, I decided to post it in its entirety up here *points to large media player above* As well as put it here in text:

“‘If I’m going to be anything more than, than average, if anyone is going to remember me, than I need to go further. In everything, in art, in life. And everything that they think is real? Morality, immorality, good, bad, I – We have to smash that to pieces. And we have to go beyond, we have to be brave Frederico.’

‘No limit.’

‘No, no limit.’”

*smiles sheepishly* Guess who wrote all that off the top of her head…? *slowly raises hand, squeaks* Me…*hides under ‘DALIROB IS MY LUVER” blanket set* Thank you, Em, you have no idea how much that scene means to me. *wipes eyes, big grin on face* ~Fallen

[click pic for a wicked close-up]