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It was so easy, letting her head move up, letting his lips find hers. Letting them explore each other. The moment lingered, and his hands left the steering wheel, one sliding up her back, and the other to her waist. Her own hands found the softness where his neck gave way to his thick hair.
Pulling away, he took a deep breath in. “Not here,” he whispered, and opened the door. He stiffened, and slammed it again, abruptly putting his seatbelt back on.
“What?” Bella asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Vampire,” he said, and gunned the truck into reverse, spinning it around and driving as quickly as he could.
“Wait!” Bella yelled, “What about Charlie?”
“He’s with Sue,” he said, “But we gotta get outta here.”
He was pushing the truck to its limit, a whining 50 miles an hour, as he hit the highway, straining to make it more.
They didn’t see the black mercedes, parked unobtrusively across from the house, half-hidden amongst the trees and the night. Nor did they see Alice, peeking out from the blind windows of Bella’s house.
He all put pulled her from the cab, and shoved her inside his own house, with no more than a hasty “I need to change.”
She stepped well back inside the entranceway, watching his form unfold in the darkness. She stood, for the second time that day, feeling her life tethered to a wild pendulum, swinging with death, its lurching arches and dips taking her with them.
When he appeared again, himself, she felt like she jumped. Not to another, wild swing, but to the ground.
They had both been clutched by it, this unordered tenacity for surviving, and both breathed hard, thumping hearts and juddering adrenaline leaving them jittery.
It felt as natural as breathing to reach out her hand to him, to feel him take the invitation to so much more. He felt the lightness of her in his arms again, but this time her lips were alive under his, and her hands kneaded his neck and arm.
He was fairly certain Billy was home, somewhere, but he didn’t care. He slammed open the door to his room, and slammed it closed just as loudly. Locking it, he sat on the bed, with her still in his arms.
It was Bella who dislodged herself from them, straddling his legs with her own, hands pressed against the heat of his chest.
They hadn’t broken the contact of their lips, and Jacob marvelled at her intensity. She was pushing him back, and he let himself fall, catching her before she felt the impact of their bodies colliding. She giggled, feeling the bracing of his arms.
He smiled beneath her lips, and then reversed their positions, now straddling her.
A shiver of pleasure snaked up his spine when he dared leave the now familiar territory of her lips, and take in the still salty skin of her neck. Her long “mmmmm” undulated around him as he found the delicate space behind her ear, and she arched her back, pressing herself against him.
He was having a harder time breathing now, his blood occupied in regions beyond his lungs. Her hands sought purchase in his flesh, the dig of her nails a spice to the sweetness of her kisses.
Jacob’s heat, so burning before, was digging itself into her flesh. Into her bones. She felt... warm . Finally. Like she hadn’t since before she’d come to Forks. He was the sudden summer after an overlong winter, and her own heat blossomed in her, responding to his.
It was an unfamiliar ache that Jacob felt, as he hardened, the desire of his heart, and his body colluding against the logic of his mind. No , he thought, no way. Not happening. Get yourself together.
Bella’s body was similarly at war. Am I using him? she thought. Long buried desires were screaming at her, the thudding of her pulse felt in places long deadened to sensation.
It was his gasp, so unguarded, as she cupped his cheek with her hand, that unseated the coolness of her logic.
“I want you,” she whispered, running her hands to his hips, where her grip solidified her words.
Jacob stopped, certain he had misheard her, and brought his lips to hers again.
“I want you,” she said, this time louder. “I want you Jacob.”
He still couldn’t believe it.
She stilled, the sharp drop in her stomach a familiar plunge. Maybe—what if—what if he didn’t?
What if he knows how broken I really am?
She pushed him away, her hand to her lips, shaking. “Sorry,” she said, standing up, “if you don’t—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” she mumbled, a wave of tears building.
He grabbed her arm and steered her back into his lap, silencing any further apology with his lips. He paused, breathing heavily. “I want you,” he rasped out, “I just—I’m just—delusional with happiness, that you want me too.”
Bella made a sound that was something between a cough, tears, and laughter. She didn’t let go of his hands. “I thought—maybe, I—thought I was wrong.”
“No,” he said, kissing her again. “I’ve waited, Bella...since I met you. God...I’ve..hoped. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”
Their words were not enough to harden what they were feeling, and Bella, feeling the rush of blood that accompanied every nervous breath, slipped off her shirt, and pulled him to her again. She slid her hand into the waistband of his shorts, letting her thumb catch its edge, and ride down to the mid-point of his thighs. Jacob kicked them off, and repeated the same choreography with her leggings.
Her body was a geography he wanted to know intimately. His hands traced the soft ridges of her ribs, sliding up through the gentle dip at the jointure of her arm. He let his mouth discover the pliancy of her breasts, and she moaned with him at each sweet disclosure.
She had brought her knees to an articulate angle, and their hips met, one flesh calling to another.
Did she really want to--? Really? He thought. It was almost unbelievable. Almost.
He didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to risk the ‘no’ she might give him. So he whispered, instead, “I need to get something,” one hand fumbling with the bedside drawer.
She started, not at his words, but as his actions.
“You keep...condoms, in your bedroom?” She was blushing.
She’d been so certain they were both equally inexperienced.
Jacob chuckled, sitting up, ducking his head down. “Bella, how many boys bedrooms have you been in?”
The blush persisted. “None, really, except yours,” she mumbled.
“Bella,” he started. “Boys keep condoms in their bedrooms. If not because they need them, but because they hope to need them.”
She dared to look him in the eyes. “And, for which of those reasons have you kept them, Jacob?”
“Hope, only,” he said softly, shrugging, giving a small smile, smoothing his fingers over her hand. “But seeing as we’re asking, what would I find in your bedside drawer?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, waving the condom between his fingers.
She shook her head, “nothing aside from books and kleenex,” she answered, giving a small smile. She was blushing less.
“So,” he said, “was that your way of saying we won’t need this?” He set the condom on the bedside table, within her reach.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m pretty sure, if all the dire parental warnings are correct, that we definitely want one of those. I just...haven’t used one. Ever.” This time the blush returned with full fury.
The relief was palpable. He hid it beneath a well-used nonchalance, “no time like the present to learn,” he said, and pressed her back into the pillow with a kiss.
Flipping himself off of her, he grabbed the condom again, and tore the wrapper between his teeth. “Pinch here, and roll down,” he said, handing it to her.
He could see her nerves and embarrassment growing, and he kissed her again, guiding her hand, their fingers awkwardly accomplishing the joint task.
Emboldened by the permission his own hand had given her, she explored him, her touch light and tentative. He paid similar, but bolder attention to her, and teased at the tender flesh.
She gasped when she felt his fingers exploring more intimately.
The heat was stunning.
They had rolled onto their sides, and his lips lay at her throat, taking in shivering thrum of her pulse. Her hands were pulling at his hips.
“I want you Jacob,” she said again, this time clearly. “Inside me.”
He hesitated, just for a moment, looking at her, really seeing her. She seemed, suddenly, monstrously small. Sparrow like. A harrowing fear that he would hurt her, if he wasn’t careful, shook him.
“Bella,” he said, hoping he wasn’t going to regret talking just right now, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against hers. “And I’m afraid I’m going to.”
He opened his eyes when she called his name. “Jacob.” It was a whisper, “I think that kinda goes with the first time territory.” The blush had reached her hairline.
He smiled, relieved, “No, I mean--I get that. I mean--I don’t want that to hurt either, but...you’re so...small Bella, and I’m, well--”
“Huge. Yep, no one’s missed that Jake. Werewolf huge.”
They laughed, despite themselves.
“I still want you,” she whispered. “It’ll be OK.” Her hands, so gentle before on his cheek, made a tight clench into his hair, pulling him towards her.
He didn’t hesitate this time, and moved himself over her, feeling the shiver of her flesh as the space between them disappeared.
The pain of his movement rode up inside her sharply, and she cried out at it.
He stopped, his arms trembling with the restraint. “You OK?” he whispered. His throat felt like sandpaper.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, to frighten him away. The pain was subsiding. She breathed out the last of it.
He pushed into her again, this time the sting only fleeting. The pleasure of him, and his touch sent sparks into her toes.
The heat was burning, certainly, but burning away the emptiness Bella had felt clawing at her for months. It was receding, the ice melting under this, her sun.
He was overwhelmed by the soft touch of her flesh, making himself move slowly, savouring each time he felt the pleasant friction of her against him. Her legs shook, and so did his.
It was the tears that disarmed him utterly--his own, and hers, and the sweet sound of her voice, released in a gasping ‘oh’, as his body expended itself. Their final, shaking shudders over, he curled her body against his, protecting it against the chill of the night.
They slid, their bodies entrusted to each other, into the depth of the night, and sleep.
Outside, the howl of wolves, unheard, curled into the air, and Alice, unsatisfied in her visit, began the long journey home, with no news to bear.