Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own The Host, or any of the characters. Except Ian. Wait, what? I don't own him either? Damn! I don't get to own anything fun!
Note: The pairings in this are switched, Wanda/Jared, and Mel/Ian. LIME WARNING.
Wanda POV:
It'd been 5 months since I was inserted in Pet's body, and things between Ian and I were not working quite as smoothly as planned. Well, not planned, since I was expecting to be dead in the ground around this time, but eh. Semantics.
It was like… like I left all my love for Ian in Mel. Somewhere between the cyrotank and Pet's body, it got tossed out the window.
I feel nothing when I see his face.
No sweaty palms, not hummingbird heartbeat. Nothing.
I still think Ian is an amazing person, but… it's really just not the same. He doesn't fire me up like he used to.
If I'g gonna to be honest with myself, which I haven't been in a while, someone else does. It sends tingles down my spine just thinking his name.
Jared.
Jared Howe, who punched me and threatened me and wanted me dead.
The same Jared Howe who lied to me so effectively that night, almost made me believe that somewhere under his love for Mel, he wanted me too.
The Jared who held Doc with a knife to the throat, demanding that he go against my wishes and save my life.
That Jared.
Mel's Jared.
I've spent too many nights dreaming of his eyes crinkled as he smiles down at me, the feel of his rough, calloused hands gliding lovingly down my young, freckled skin. My nipples harden just at the thought, and the all-too-familiar warmth in my lady parts becomes painfully apparent. Well, not quite painfully, but you get the picture.
Sadly, Jared is Mel's, and I'd do nothing to hurt my sister. Even if it means denying myself the one thing, the one man, that my very heart desires.
oOoOoOo
I do my very best to ignore these feelings and make nice with Ian and Mel, who, to the vicious human side of me, has become a hostile enemy, as well as my very best friend. I smile at Ian when he walks in, place dutiful kisses on his mouth when he leans down to me.
I brush his skin with mine, run my fingers through his hair, trying to find the spark, vainly hoping to rekindle the fire.
But even in my deception, which has become all too easy in the passing months, my eyes wander, searching out the face of the man who sets my heart to a dead sprint.
I see him walk in with Mel, a careful distance between them, unlike the unbroken bond they once shared, always touching, always by each other's side.
I gleefully find evidence of them growing apart one minute, Jared brushing off Mel's concerned hand on his shoulder, or Melanie artfully maneuvering from his grasp, and the next find them gazing wistfully into each other's eyes before whisking themselves away to their room for, what we can assume, another passionate tryst.
When they did, I would turn to Ian, a trademarked smile plastered on my face, and whisper in his ear the things I knew would release his inner caveman, causing him to sweep me up into his arms and run to our shared room.
I would lay on my back, feeling his tongue in my mouth and thinking of Jared's, replacing the hands sliding down my naked body with those of a memory's memory. I would moan in all the right places, match Ian thrust for thrust.
But with no joy.
And when he was spent, I would lay underneath him, and wait for him to fall asleep until I wriggled out and left to bathe. I always made sure to be back before he awoke, and if he ever noticed I had left, he never said a word.
I loved Ian, in a way, and I would do anything to make sure he wasn't hurt.
Even by me.
Especially by me.
I would continue this farce of a relationship for eternity if I had to, because Wanderer never thinks for herself, or makes self-interested decisions. Wanderer was the best worker, best friend, best lover there was, and she would be damned if those who she cared about most ever thought differently.
Jared POV:
It'd been 5 months since Mel got her body back, and I wasn't as happy as I should have been.
I mean, honestly.
After all that fight, all the… pain I caused Wanda, after Wes and the Seeker and everything, everything I went through… I didn't want her.
I didn't want this Mel, not anymore.
Not even a little bit.
She was different. She wasn't as… innocent? I couldn't place my finger on it, but something about her had changed, and it wasn't an improvement. She was… snarky. And mean. I never thought I could see utter repulsion on her face, ever, but there it was, everytime she saw Maggie or Sharon. It even showed through when she saw Ian and Wanda sometimes.
I didn't understand what had changed.
Maybe I had spent so long seeing Wanda's expressions on her face, that I didn't recognize the ones I saw now. I had gotten so used to the kindness and gentleness Wanda infused in Mel's voice that I could hardly bear to listen to her without it. The words she said, the tone in her voice... it made me sick!
We fought all the time, and when we weren't yelling, we were fucking.
Mindless, hot, sweaty sex simply to release all of the pent-up frustration the both of us felt.
But I couldn't even get hard thinking that it was Mel I was about to fuck.
I had to replace her tan, long body with a shorter, paler, more freckled one in my mind. Every thrust was for her, for Wanda. I wanted it to be her.
But Wanda wasn't mine.
She was Ian's, heart and soul, and I couldn't do shit to change that.
I had driven her straight into his loving embrace back when I was blinded by my own pain and misplaced hate.
It had taken him holding her hand, and carrying her so gently in his arms, for me to realize it. He was the one who wiped away the tears I caused, he was the one who comforted her as I mercilessly slaughtered her family, babies. It was my own fault, my own damn fault.
I often thought back to the night she asked me to lie to her. I had long since realized my affections for her, but for some reason I could barely get the words out. All I saw was her, asking me to tell her I wanted her to stay. I said the words, putting all of my feelings in it, hoping she'd realize that everything I was saying was the truth.
But I knew, as she turned away from me, that she hadn't caught my hint. So, I caught her hand.
I saw my opportunity to make her stay. And I did it. I kissed her. And, fuck did I kiss her.
All I wanted to do was do it again.
I wanted so much to be the one holding her. I wanted her to look at me with that love in her eyes. I wanted to make her blush at the thought of all the dirty things I was going to do to her when we were alone. I wanted her heart to quicken when I walked in the room.
I sometimes thought I had gotten my wish. I would look up to see Wanda, and smile at her, and she would blush and look down, a small smile playing at her rosy, full lips.
I had accidentally brushed her hand one night, and I swear I saw her touching the spot almost… reverently for the whole rest of the night.
But it could mean nothing.
Or everything.
All I knew was that it was getting harder and harder not to push her up against a wall and kiss her senseless. I wanted my hands tangled in her golden curls, I wanted her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer.
But Ian was my friend, and Wanda didn't want me.
Even still…
I'd do anything and everything to make Wanda mine.
TBC...