Written for the "Passionate About Paul" one-shot contest

Pen Name: mrstrentreznor
Title: breaking the drought
Rating: MA
Primary Players: Paul/ OC
Summary: the wolf boys have a contest
Word Count: 2087
Beta'd by: ban sidhe

DISCLAIMER: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight saga and all its characters.No copyright infringement is intended.No profits have been received in the production of this piece.

To see other entries in the "Passionate About Paul" contest, please visit
www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/~passionateaboutpaulcontest

She hasn't had sex for two years. She is thinking that she just might curl up and die or get desperate enough to do someone she really shouldn't. Two years… honestly.

It's not that she is unattractive. She just seems to be striking out an awful lot lately and each time, she gets less sure of herself.

She almost thought all her Christmases had come at once this week when a guy had grabbed her by the arm in the mall. She looked up into his handsome, eager face and allowed her heart to pound for just a second before he exclaimed, "Oh my god, are those your real nails!" He was so completely and obviously gay it was truly disheartening. And he was built too. It was more disappointing.

She managed to smile at him and assure him that, yes, they were her real nails and no, she never had manicures.

So she was unbelievably attractive… to gay guys. Typical.

She was waiting for her friend Angela to pick her up. Angela and Ben were taking her out to a bar. She swore it was a sympathy thing. They knew she wouldn't go by herself. They didn't even trust her to meet them there. She went through the motions for them but felt she must be giving off bad vibes or something.

She was ready and waiting for them to arrive. She thought she would just spend her waiting time reading her favourite fan fiction story. The author usually updated at about this hour. In retrospect it was probably a very bad idea. The creeping sexual tension the author had been building for twenty chapters went off with almost actual fireworks. Some of this stuff was pretty well written. She breathlessly read the extreme sexual encounter of the characters and felt her own panties dampening with their combined exertions. She sincerely wondered how some of these authors did their research. She felt like jumping someone just from reading this stuff; writing it, must make them jump their significant others all the time.

She checked her watch, wondering if she had time to take care of herself before Angela arrived. She didn't.

She squirmed a little in her pent up frustration.

She wondered if she had time to change her panties before Angela arrived, when the doorbell rang.

She squirmed a little more and ground her thighs together. Oh well, she would have to do.

"Hey Angela," she greeted her brightly, grabbing her bag, turning lights off and heading out the door. Her computer screen glowed behind her.

In the bar, they settled at a table against the wall. She was the master of self deprecation. In fact, she was skirting dangerously close to running herself down as she regaled them with the (now) funny story of being grabbed by a gay man.

The wolf pack stood against another wall. They gazed over the crowd like actual wolves checking out a flock of sheep.

"Where's Jake?" asked Seth typically; he was always eager to be in anything Jake was doing. He continued to follow him around like an eager puppy; it was actually unusual to see Seth without Jake being nearby.

"Still hung up on Bella," stated Embry. "He doesn't want to compete."

"Okay," said Quil. "Pick your marks. Remember the prize is each loser covering one of the winner's patrols."

"So we share if it is a draw?" checked Embry. He always read the fine print.

"Correct," confirmed Quil.

"How are we doing to confirm this?" asked Seth.

"Jared said he would confirm by shared memories… personally, I reckon he is just getting wolf porn but… whatever…" Quil shrugged. "He can't play anymore now he has imprinted on Kim."

"Wolf porn," muttered Seth to himself as if he had just thought of the concept.

"So the most times wins?" checked Embry.

"The most actual ejaculations," confirmed Quil. "And no cheating by jacking yourself off… doesn't count."

They all nodded.

The boys scanned the bar for a minute or so.

Embry choose a blonde dancing with some friends; Quil picked a native girl he thought he recognised. He was thinking he had a better chance if she knew him.

She laughed as she hit the punch line of her story "Oh my god, are those your real nails?" her voice carried; she was a little too loud or it was one of those weird drops in noise that happens occasionally in a crowd. Her companions laughed with her.

"That one," said Paul.

"Really?" said Seth. He shrugged, "Okay, I'll take the redhead." He inclined his head at a group against another wall.

"Excellent," said Quil, rubbing his hands together demonically. "Let's go."

They scattered.

Paul stayed where he was. He watched his prey; carefully, so she wouldn't know she was being observed.

She got up to buy drinks for her companions. He timed his approach so that they would pass each other as she walked back to the table. He brushed past her; her shoulder making contact with his body. He stopped and reversed. That caught her attention just as she placed the drinks down on the table.

"Wow," he said, leaning in towards her with a sniff, "you smell really good. If I was a dog I would have my nose in your crotch."

She stared at him and blinked. She looked a little unsettled by that comment.

"Seriously?" she asked. "That is your pick up line?"

He hadn't actually meant to say that; but she did smell good. He is not entirely sure what came over him.

"Yeah," he said looking defensive. "What's wrong with it?"

"What's wrong with it? It's awful."

"I dunno… we are still talking," he pointed out artfully.

"Talking? Yes, we are… about how bad your pick up line is," she still sounded offended.

Ben dragged Angela off for a dance. Angela gave her an apologetic look. Paul stayed standing by the table.

"You're still here," she told him pointedly.

"Yeah…" he grinned at her. "Uptight much?"

She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink. She ignored him.

"So what's up?" he asked.

"Oh puleez," she said.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"You are not my type," she felt compelled to explain.

"You have a type?" he asked. "What is your type?"

If he put finger apostrophes around that, she was going to hit him.

"Talk, dark and handsome," she ran off quickly before she realised that he actually fitted that description to a't'.

He took a step back and did a kind of a voila gesture down his body.

She rolled her eyes again and tried to give him the cold shoulder; sipping her drink and ignoring him.

"Is it because I am Native American?" he asked.

"No," she replied and then got shitty with herself because she was still talking to him.

"Really?"

"You're cute enough."

"Cute?" he queried.

Bugger, why couldn't she keep her mouth shut?

"I am insulted," he said seriously.

"Insulted?"

"Cute," he muttered to himself. He watched her intently. "I feel that you need me," he said.

"I need you?" she repeated stupidly. That comment had definitely unnerved her. Especially after the earlier one about how good her crotch would smell.

"See… you admit it."

"What?"

"You said you needed me."

"What?"

"Jeez… is that your favourite word?"

"WHAT?"

"Oh it is…"

He looks at her; his eyes have a mischievous gleam. "Okay…" he admits, with a placating hand gesture. "I think I may have done this all wrong… let me try again."

"Wha…"

His hand lifts impossibly fast, a finger presses over her lips and stops her speaking.

"Don't say it," he chides.

He turns and walks away from the table. She still feels the touch of his finger pressed against her lips. She lifts her own hand to her lip, as if to confirm to herself that it isn't still there.

In a very bad move, she watches him walk away. She realises he has wide shoulders, slim hips and a very good arse and he moves in a curiously athletic way; like he is dancer or an athlete of some kind. He walks quite a distance before he pivots on his foot. Now she gets the front view.

It's even better.

His short black hair is a little longer at the front and falls raffishly across his forehead. He fills out his faded form-fitting jeans pretty well. Wow, he really fills out the front of those jeans. He stalks back towards her. He watches her the whole time. She thinks he resembles a lion hunting game on the Serengeti or something.

Guess that makes her 'gazelle of the day'.

He stops in front of her.

"Hi," he says in a low silky voice. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She is dumbfounded and says nothing. She just blinks at him. Part of her wonders why he is still trying so hard to talk to her.

He waits for a beat but she is still staring at him. He picks up her glass and sniffs at it. "Gin and tonic?" he asks. She finds herself nodding slowly.

She is in shock. She sees Angela give her a thumbs-up from the dance floor.

He comes back in record time with her drink and a bottle of beer for himself.

He places the drinks on the table and holds his hand out to shake. "The name's Paul," he says.

She holds her hand out. "Maddy," she replies politely. It's so hard to be rude to someone when they are being polite. And when they fill out their jeans that well.

"Maddy," he repeats; he is still holding her hand. His hand feels unbelievably warm given he was just carrying cold drinks. His other hand reaches out and tucks her long hair back over her shoulder; his skin brushes against her bare shoulder as he does so and she shivers. He is still holding her hand. He looks down at it, tilts his head and asks, "Hey, are those your real nails?"

She laughs.

He gives her a smile so rascally she is sure he overheard her telling the story before. She tells him again, anyway.


Paul throws himself on his back onto the mattress. Maddy lies next to him with what looks like a permanent smile on her face. Her hair is a wild tangle. They are both covered in sweat and breathing like sprinters.

"Wow," she mutters.

"Hell yeah," he agrees.

They keep panting together.

"I need a cold shower…" she says. She realises what she may have just implied. "Just to cool down," she feels compelled to explain, "Before I get heat stroke. It seems really hot tonight… unseasonable."

"Good idea. Can I come with you?" he asks.

"Sure," she agrees.

Neither of them moves.

"Ever had sex in the shower?" he asks.

"No, actually," she admits. "But given we have already tried the dining table, the kitchen…"

"…over the back of the lounge… " he adds.

"…on the hood of the car on the way home…"

"…don't forget the front lawn…"

"…we may as well try it," she says. She goes to get up and fails; falling back onto the bed. "You may need to carry me," she tells him. "My legs aren't working so well right now."

He laughs. "No problem." He rolls towards her and kisses her.

"I have never had sex five times before I hit the bed before…" she sounds incredulous.

"So the shower will make it seven," he points out.

"Yeah… am I going to get any sleep at all?" she asks between kisses.

"I wasn't planning on it," he admitted.

She grins at him. "Okay then," she agrees, holding her arms up for him to carry her.


It takes a couple of days for the results to be collated.

"So I declare Paul the winner," stated Jared.

"Excellent!" Paul says. "I have a date with Maddy tonight. One of you can take my patrol."

"Jesus," Seth says, shaking his head, "eight times…."

"On the front lawn," says Embry incredulously. "What about the neighbours…?"

"On the car hood …" says Quil. "Girls don't do that the first time…"

"Yeah," Jared added, "he got you all on locations as well as variety of positions. You guys need to do some more research. I pity your imprints when you eventually get some."

"But… eight times," Seth repeats; still shaking his head.

"Does that count blow jobs?" asked Paul.

"No, actually," admitted Jared.

"WHAT?" the others chorus.

FF_2154210_ - 23/02/2011 01:36:00 PM