Summary: He tastes better than DiGiorno.
With Me
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Bella is different from any girl Jake has ever known. She's smart, she's hot, and she doesn't take his crap, and it takes him very little effort to fall head-over-heels for her. The fact that he's a romantic at heart is a bit of an epiphany, and not a welcome one at that, but the evidence is overwhelming. Jake cannot simply like a girl, no matter how hard he tries. He will fight it until his dying breath, but in the end he falls in love with them anyway.
He just wishes sometimes that it didn't always make things so complicated. Like this thing with Bella. He wishes that he could be satisfied, cruising down the highway with the sun in their eyes and the way she bounces impatiently in the seat next to him as if the thought of being still for even a few minutes is pure torture. It's a great feeling — he and Bella connect on some base level that he's been able to do with few others. But Jake is Jake and he will never be satisfied with what he has because he always wants more.
He tried in high school, repeatedly, to hint to her that he was interested, but she never seemed to get the message. They're in college now, supposedly mature and sexually liberated adults, but still it takes him time to work up the courage to ever show his hand for real. He knows that Bella will not approach him first. By the time she's through being toyed with by Edward Cullen she's barely a shell of the girl she used to be, and Jake's savior complex leaps at the opportunity to be the one to save her.
"This pizza tastes like shit," she decrees, in his apartment late at night when she should probably be studying. It was a frozen DiGiorno pizza that they dug out of the recesses of his freezer, covered in snowy hunks of ice and looking like it had seen better days. Now Bella is looking at it like it's sprouted another head. There's grease on her lips, making them look full and inviting and Jake takes that giant leap, leaning over to her side of the couch and closing his lips around hers.
"Bet I taste better," he murmurs.
She doesn't push him away. But she doesn't exactly warm to his touch either. She lets him pry her lips apart and stroke her tongue with his, lets him take her by the waist and draw her closer. Her lack of response is frustrating, to say the least. Jake fondles her breasts through her shirt, then sneaks his fingers up underneath to push her bra out of the way and pinch her nipples. They're hard. He unbuttons the front of her blouse, slides it down her shoulders, strips off her tank top and unhooks her bra and she still hasn't put up a complaint.
This is not what sex with Bella Swan is supposed to be like — she's not supposed to lie passively beneath him and squeeze her eyes shut. He lets out a strangled gasp when he realizes what she's doing — she's imagining that he's someone else.
"Hey. Hey, Bells. Look at me, girl." He tugs hard at her hair, now so long that it spills down past to her waist. Bella's eyes widen. Jake takes off his t-shirt, slowly, letting her get an eyeful of what she's getting herself into. If she's going to sleep with him then she's going to sleep with him — Jake. No matter how much he loves her he will not be a pity fuck. She watches him remove his belt, stand up to remove his pants and boxers, and then he's standing proud and tall before her. Her eyes trace the lines of ink down his arms and across his chest and when she reaches for him he has no doubt that she's reaching for him. Their bodies smash together on the crappy little couch, and he almost falls off in an attempt to peel her jeans down her legs.
It's she who rolls the condom down his aching cock, but it feels good, in that moment, to relinquish control. And when she cums, sighing his name into his neck, he clutches at her hair relieved that she's there with him.