TwiSlash Unveiled SLASH Contest
Pairing: Edward/Emmett
POV: Edward
Rating: ALL stories submitted for this contest are rated M.
Disclaimer:
Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.
TwiSlash Unveiled, this contest, and the authors of the stories submitted do not intend any copyright infringement.
Anonymity Disclaimer:
This story is the work of its author and not TwiSlash has been submitted under the TU pen name for the TwiSlash Unveiled SLASH contest remains the work of the author.
A/N: Thank you to my betas Beth and Ceci.
"Alright, now I'm lost," Emmett announced, as he threw up his hands and walked towards the shore. From a stand-still, he leapt onto the rock where Edward was sunning himself.
"You're beautiful," Emmett said. Laughing, he kicked his clothes into a heap and laid down beside Edward. It was not uncommon for the two of them to be able to enjoy an afternoon such as the one they had just shared. They'd run off hours earlier to hunt, and though they had shared Emmett's kill, they had then quickly diverted to swimming together in a crystalline stream. Somewhere, it fed into an inlet, and then the briny ocean, but in that place, beneath the canopy of the Pacific Northwest where the Cullens camped, the water was clear, fresh, and calm.
Even though he had been with his brother all day, Edward had felt a certain solitude that he had been yearning for after weeks traveling with his family in tight quarters. It wasn't often that he had time to himself anymore, not since Rosalie joined their family, and certainly not since Emmett's arrival. But, as the other man's newborn urges subsided, and the family felt it safe to venture back into human society, Edward had come to realize Emmett's company was preferable to anyone else's. Though he'd wanted to hunt alone, enjoy a few hours of solitude, Edward hadn't stopped to tell his brother not to follow. Being with Emmett was almost like being alone, at least when they were running or swimming. Emmett did not need to talk incessantly. Of course, instead of traveling aimlessly together, they soon began to trade off giving chase, occasionally tumbling to the ground or beneath the water's surface together. Emmett liked to turn everything into a competition, but his company was not an imposition. Even when he broke Edward's sun-soaked reverie with conversation, Edward still felt as though he was enjoying a quiet moment. For someone so volatile and energetic, Emmett had an infectious personal calm Edward envied. And, even though Emmett had interrupted Edward's thoughts, he hardly cared.
"Why? Why on earth would Rosalie refuse you? Excuse me for just getting this through my thick skull, but you're not just a pretty face. You're fucking flawless, Eddie."
In the preceding months, Edward had become accustomed to Emmett's candor to the extent that it no longer left him flustered every time the man swore. Most of the time, yes, but not every time. However, Edward was disappointed that the other man's crass manner of speaking was not a product of his change. In this, too, Emmett was simply himself. His enthusiasm and honesty did not devolve from a lack of control. His manner of speaking was no more a product of his change than his size or splendor. Compared to Rosalie, Esme, or himself, Emmett's change had been so easy; and for this, too, Edward envied him. Though he had never known Emmett as a human, Edward barely glimpsed the horrific side of the man's nature that the other Cullens constantly fought to keep at bay. Emmett was wild and impulsive, true, but Edward was beginning to think he had always been that way. And, those very human qualities made him no less likable than his crude jokes or constant smiling. The man was always happy. Emmett had even smiled when he awoke for the last time. Everything about Emmett was to be envied.
And yet, he called Edward 'flawless.'
Edward stammered and looked away from Emmett's shimmering form. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. McCarty."
"It's 'nowhere', Mr. Cullen," Emmett replied, laughing. "The phrase is 'flattery will get you nowhere'." He sighed and folded one arm behind his head as he turned to look at Edward. Edward pretended not to notice that Emmett was looking him up and down. "And, I get why she wouldn't want me, but you? You and Rosie are like... you're almost the same fucking person. I just don't get it." Emmett sighed again. "I know what she went through was bad, real bad, but how can she stand it? How can you? How can she refuse you? The two of you are... made for each other."
Emmett was half right. Carlisle had made Rosalie for Edward. It was obvious how well they complemented one another, and, without a doubt, Rosalie was a lovely companion, a beloved sister. Edward and Rosalie were perfect for one another in that respect. And, in a way, that was perfection itself. Their relationship had been very easy to piece together, and his sister's love, the love of his family, was as much as Edward could hope for from what remained of his life.
In the way Emmett implied, however, Rosalie and Edward were not made for one another. Emmett was as wrong about that as he was wrong about who had refused whom. They had discussed the fact that Edward was not pursuing Rosalie, much to Emmett's dismay, many times before. And Edward knew from their discussions that Emmett was far more interested in the Rosalie conundrum than he let on. The man was eager to understand what made her tick. Instead of helping his brother understand, Edward was deceiving him.
"She didn't," Edward said, staring out at the treetops beyond his chest.
"What?" Emmett asked, not out of disbelief, but confusion. It had been several minutes since Emmett had last spoken, and Edward had taken so long to gather the courage to speak that his brother had forgotten where they last left off. Edward had only decided to speak because he could not stand to mislead his brother any further, and that is what they were: brothers. Edward had quickly grown closer to Emmett than anyone in his family, and though Rosalie had been the one to save him, the feeling was mutual for Emmett as well.
"Rosalie. She did not refuse me." Edward didn't have to tell him why he refused Rosalie. He was certain that Emmett would be so happy to learn that it was not Rosalie who was opposed to the idea of being with Edward, with someone, that Emmett's line of questioning would turn away from him.
Emmett slapped the rock face that the men lay upon, only this time he did so in disbelief. "What?"
"She did not refuse me. When- well, it was before you were with us- when Rosalie was still quite young, I told her that I only saw her as a sister."
"Oh! Fuck!" Emmett rolled onto his stomach, inadvertently moving much closer to Edward, elbowing him in the ribs. "Stop it! Stop pussyfooting around! What happened?"
"Nothing happened." As much as Edward had tried to will it to. "Rosalie made her feelings clear, and I told her that I could not return them."
Emmett laughed, and Edward was relieved to see him so happy, his dimples stuck in place even as he spoke. "Are you insane? Does it work?" Emmett joked as he tugged at Edward's knickers. Edward abruptly sat up and swatted his brother's hands away. Of course, as Edward expected, Emmett rolled halfway on top of him, and they grappled briefly until Emmett let Edward concede to his superior strength with dignity, hopefully with his dignity intact as well. Hopefully, the tussle had ended before Emmett realized that Edward could not help but lose his self-control in their play fighting.
"It works. I just don't feel that way about her, and I love Rosalie too much to pretend that I do. She's my sister."
"She's my sister, too! But, Edward! Remember when I said you are flawless? You do know she is flawless, too, right? What can you find fault in? Edward, she's beautiful. She's not even my type, and I know that."
Desperate to turn the conversation away from himself, Edward asked Emmett what his type was.
"Used to be brunettes, but now it's redheads. I love redheads. Sunlight, any light, catches in their hair..." Emmett reached out for a damp lock of Edward's. "When it's dry, it catches light like sunrise." Emmett sighed and dropped his hand against the stone. He missed sunlight. He missed the sunrises that had woken him up almost every day of his life. He was still awake for them, but it wasn't the same. He didn't wake up to the sight of sunlight through a waxed paper window. "It reminds me of that. I don't think I ever really cared for redheads at all, before. Too stubborn. Guess I didn't know what I was missing, huh?"
Edward didn't answer. Of course Emmett didn't know what he was missing, and he missed it all, not just waking to sunrises. He missed the life he used to live, all the little things he'd left behind, and all the details he'd never appreciated as a human. Edward was going to apologize, again, for letting his family change Emmett, when he felt the man's hand wrap around his shoulder.
"Don't," Emmett whispered, breaking into a forced smile as a hint of sadness crept into his voice. "You're such a good little brother, making excuses for us to lie around in the sun for the rest of the afternoon. How can I hold a grudge?"
So appreciative, Edward thought. So appreciative of the littlest, unintentional things. So easy to please. So easy to be with.
"But, what the hell, Eddie? Come on! We're going to be out here forever waiting for you to dry off! Can't you go for a swim like a normal person?" Emmett tugged at the damp cotton that clung to Edward's thighs. He tried, but Edward couldn't brush his brother's hand away fast enough, and, after gasping at the proximity of his brother's hand to his shame, he pulled Emmett's fingers from his thigh.
Both men froze as they heard the wet fabric tear.
Emmett released his hand like a spring hinge, slapping his palm against Edward's now partially bare thigh. He could feel Emmett's hand against his skin, could feel the hairs on his legs as they fluttered, as Edward sought to still himself, stopped breathing, and closed his eyes.
"Fuck. Sorry," Emmett said, as he pulled his hand away. Edward opened his eyes just enough to peer through his lashes and see Emmett fall on his back, hands behind his head, and stare off into the vista. "What is wrong with you?" he continued. "Rosalie is beautiful, and strong, and funny, and feisty as all hell. You need someone like that. Somebody who is more..." Emmett searched for the right word. "Demanding? I don't know. You're too passive and reserved. I can't imagine how, looking the way you do, how you can be so..." He searched again. "So disinterested. Not just in Rosie. In general."
Before Edward could answer - he owed his brother an explanation, after all - Emmett
laughed. "All I want to do is fuck."
Edward laughed. He knew that. It seemed like every day, if not twice a day, he heard, saw, or smelt Emmett's self-abuse.
"And you don't want to? At all? I don't get it. You won't even swim naked. Fuck modesty, Edward. I mean that in the most genuine way. You've got to give yourself a chance to relax. This is different. You're different. You can't live by the old rules. Fuck!" It was almost a command. "You're too tightly wound."
"I know." Edward waited for Emmett to stop laughing at his easy reply. "But you're wrong. I'm not disinterested. It's not that I don't want to...fuck." Edward smiled, saying Emmett's favorite word. "But I was raised a certain way."
"So, you're saying my mama didn't raise me right? Tread lightly, Cullen."
Edward backpedaled. "No. Not at all. You're not an unkind lover. I'm sure you've no need to deceive or coerce. But I can't..." Edward sighed. He let himself breathe again, now that he had stilled himself, and tilted his head to the side, inhaling Emmett's warm, syrupy smell. "I can't be like that. It can't just be a..." Now he was the one searching for words. "Diversion? Pastime? I'm sure if I just wanted to fuck, I could. You are right. But I don't have any desire to be with someone, in sweeping terms like that. I..." Edward had said all of this to Emmett before, without reproach. He had never, precisely, explained why he had no such desire, and desperately looked for a way to avoid doing so.
"I would have to be in love," Edward sputtered out, truthfully.
"So? Fall in love," Emmett replied. He rolled on his side, locking his honey-colored eyes with Edward's. It was as though he was well aware that Edward had opened his eyes all the way to stare at him as he made his confession. Their swim had separated Emmett's hair into dark, glossy tendrils and curls. He looked like a figure on a Greek vase, a god, flawlessly etched.
"And, they would have to love me back. I would have to be certain."
"In other words, you wouldn't have to love them," Emmett corrected. "They would have to love you."
"No, no, no." Edward was certain he had said it properly. "I would have to be in love with them and they would have to-"
Emmett rolled onto his back again. "Stupid. That's just stupid. That's not love. How could you ever be certain? Why does that matter? You're telling me you don't care about loving this fictional person unconditionally?" Though, to Edward, the person he had in mind was most certainly not fictional. "You'd set conditions for loving them? That is so much shallower than having a good time with someone. You are ridiculous, Eddie."
"No. It's not conditional. I would not stop being in love if my feelings were unrequited." Never. "Never," Edward decided to say, frantically trying to justify his convictions. He could taste Emmett's disgust in the air. Emmett was just so free with his emotions. He loved freely. His emotions were not shallow, but they surfaced so easily. Edward drowned beneath the weight of his own.
"But how could I go back, Emmett? It would be better not to know, and leave everything pure, untainted. I would not want to look back with regret on something which, to me, was true and perfect. It's like you said. You know what it's like to... to fuck. You know what you're missing. I don't. And, since I don't want to do that with just anyone, I'd rather not have to struggle with the lack of it as you do. Does that make sense?" Edward asked, at a loss for words, as he watched Emmett's chest rise and fall. The man's skin was so smooth, alabaster, and glistening. For someone so large and masculine, Emmett's skin was so bare and soft, with only a faint trail beneath his navel that Edward could barely stand to notice. He could not look further, and did not have to. It was painful enough to stare at only half of Emmett McCarty, and compare that body to his own thin, coarsely-haired, sallow figure.
Emmett looked so cherubic and divine.
"So? Don't then. Why do you assume that it would be like that? You'll know. One day you'll know someone loves you, and you'll love them back. You've got it so easy, Eddie," Emmett turned away again. "I mean it. You're beautiful. Who could possibly not love you?"
Edward shook his head. "Beauty is not important."
"Of course it is important. Whoever is in this fantasy you've cooked up for yourself, they would have to be attracted to you for it to work. Case in point, you and Rosie. She's perfect for you, but you-"
"She is not perfect for me!" Edward wanted to stand up as his voice grew quick and raspy. He laughed, but not out of joy. He wanted to run away. He wanted to dive back in and swim to camp. Who cared about his clothes? Let Esme and Rosalie have their little snit and roll their eyes. There was no possible way out of this conversation.
"She's not perfect for me," Edward said, softer. "Rosalie and I are too alike. We would kill one another. We nearly have."
Emmett smirked, almost laughed, but replied again with resignation. "I know."
"But," Edward continued, in a last ditch effort to turn the examination away from his own heart. "She would have you." Edward was prodding, but with sincerity. It was better to imagine Emmett and Rosalie together, even together, than to imagine himself alone.
"Yeah. She tore into me pretty good when I had this conversation with her."
"Our little Emma. Matchmaking is a terrible business," Edward tried to joke. He assumed Emmett did not catch his reference when the man growled. "Austen. Emma? Emmett? Emma was a-"
"I am not, Edward. I am... trying not to complicate things. How can you not understand this?"
Of course Edward understood. Emmett had more than explained, more than made his feelings clear. He had spoken to both Edward and Rosalie now, trying to discern their feelings for one another, before he acted on his own. Emmett's restraint, considering his undeniable drives and hunger for sex, was admirable. Commendable.
"She will forgive you, Emmett." Edward tried to soften, reaching for Emmett's hand, barely brushing the backs of the other man's fingers with his own.
Emmett exhaled, and Edward felt the vibrations of his movement pass through to his hand, up his arm, into his chest, pushing his diaphragm so that he sighed as well.
Edward's eyes were closed to the bright sun that was slanting through the tree tops, as he imagined the hair on his knuckles wrapping around the hair on Emmett's as the vibrations passed between them.
"I don't care if she does, Edward."
Edward wished he could believe that. It was impossible, considering the way that Emmett looked at Rosalie. His adoration was nearly sickening. If Edward hadn't loved them both, he would've never been able to stand the thoughts Emmett and Rosalie had about one another. He was only willing to grant them leeway in their flirtation because he knew their feelings to be genuine.
"You never looked?" Emmett said, huffing as his index finger curled around Edwards. "Is that it? You never look at the two of us? My thoughts?"
For the one who was not a mind reader, Emmett had an eerily keen sense of what Edward was thinking. "Of course I've looked. That's why it doesn't bother me." Much.
"Because you know that I mean it? You're not mad; you just don't feel the same way? Is that it, Edward?"
Edward could barely speak. How could Emmett keep grilling him about Rosalie? How could he expect him to reply, when he was touching him in that way? Emmett was touchy. Not overly sensitive. Rather, he liked to touch. He hung off of Esme and Rosalie, and even with Edward he was unusually physical. But, Emmett wasn't used to his new body and its senses, Edward told himself. Everything still felt so new and incredible to Emmett that he had to stop himself from trying to feel the world out anew. Physical contact grounded Emmett, kept his mind from spinning and wandering. The newborn's thoughts were so strong that they were very hard for Edward to block. Emmett felt everything so intensely that Edward had to concentrate especially hard not to hear the man's feelings screaming in his mind.
In truth, Edward always preferred not to look at other people's minds. In Emmett's case, however, it was especially unappealing. So long as he did not know the contents of Emmett's mind, Edward could pretend that there was a special, forbidden place just for him.
"I told you, Em, I refused her. I couldn't possibly be angry at you for wanting Rosalie, in that way, when I do not."
"Stop talking about fucking Rosalie Hale, Edward!"
Edward felt the finger hooked around his own break the connection that he had been reveling in. He had been imagining that the faint sparks of life in his body traveled along their congruent skin. The snap of Emmett's finger was symbolic for the snap of his temper. Rosalie was obviously a touchy subject for both brothers. In better humor, Edward would have smirked as he thought of yet another reason why his sinful desire was, obviously, the rational choice. Romance with Rosalie Hale had brought neither man any comfort.
But, jostled from his ensuing ennui as Emmett's hand left his own, Edward reopened his eyes, just as the other man barked the command to do so. Before Edward could turn his head quickly to the left, a gust harried across his chest, and he looked up to see Emmett's face above his own.
Large hands encircled the tops of Edward's arms as Emmett's thighs pressed Edward's own together. He felt himself surrounded before he felt Emmett's kiss, painfully hard, willing him to open his eyes wider, to see what was happening.
He froze. Rather than stare at Emmett's arching brows or pleading eyes, Edward tried not to see what they were saying in a misguided attempt to shut the other man out. But he could not. Edward tried, admirably hard, to shut Emmett out before he finally uncrossed his eyes and stared through Emmett's. Immediately, the tension left his body, and Edward melted beneath Emmett's grip, causing him to press harder. All Edward saw in Emmett's mind was a single word, etched everywhere, in everything, coloring everything Emmett said and did. Edward laughed and struggled to let his lips part beneath Emmett's.
The kiss softened, their lips beginning to move and caress instead of pressing into one another, as they entangled themselves. Emmett lifted Edward's shoulders, pulling him up so that their arms could intertwine as they embraced, continuing to kiss. The only sweetness that could have possibly eclipsed the taste that stuck to Edward's lips would be finding that the recesses of Emmett's mind - the ones that he had been so scared not to find - were, in fact, there, but they did not belong to him. Everything else did. Some other time he would laugh with Emmett about the fair-haired temptations that toyed with their lusts occasionally, but Edward quickly fled back to the central thought that Emmett could not tuck away and laughed. He laughed heartily at himself, mostly, as he struggled to pull away from the kiss.
"You're..." Edward began. Only then did he see that Emmett was, or had been, talking about him, not Rosalie. But, Edward still wanted to hear the words, to know that what he had witnessed was reality, not a fantasy of the mind. All he managed to ask was, "Me?"
Emmett could have said anything, agreed in any way, and it would have been fine. He could've questioned Edward's stupidity, made some dreary proclamation, he could have replied in any way and Edward would have been content, but nothing could have been more perfect than for Emmett to push Edward down again, and quickly disrobe him.
Edward wanted to breathe, to curl his shoulders up from the rock face and bury himself in Emmett's neck as he laughed right alongside the other man. But, the rush of warmth - God, warmth - everywhere that Emmett touched him left Edward breathless, unable to force himself to do what used to be automatic. He grabbed Emmett's wrist, brushing the end of the other man's phallus with the back of his hand, and his hair stood on end as he continued to direct his fingers to wrap around Emmett's hand rather than reroute themselves around Emmett's cock.
Cock. Even thinking such vulgar words sent a shiver up Edward's spine.
"No, Emmett," Edward forced out, unable to will the other man's hand away from his own - Edward shivered again - cock. Instead, he found his head being willed back, staring up at the sky as Emmett stroked him there.
God, the feeling of Emmett's hand, slowly drawing up and down Edward's cock, was as glorious as the burn in the base of his spine that he felt whenever he knew Emmett was doing the same thing to himself. And, therein lay the proof of how wrong their actions were. If Edward had only disconnected from the burn in his spine, and just once entered Emmett's thoughts, he would have known how he made the other man feel.
"This is wrong. Emmett, I can't ask this of you."
"You haven't asked me. Wrong?" Emmett's hand twisted. "How? Explain it to me, Edward. Go on," Emmett urged, with unceasing movement. He leaned forward and bent to kiss the sharp corner of Edward's jaw as he whispered. "Does it feel wrong?"
"No," Edward replied involuntarily, though he was certain that what he had meant to say was 'yes.' He'd imagined that every small boy had been caught, just as he had, and instructed as to the error of their ways, even Emmett McCarty. No, certainly Emmett. Mrs. McCarty was, by all accounts, a saint who had raised her son to be a God-fearing Christian, just as Mrs. Masen had. Emmett was even Catholic.
"That's because it's not. And even if it is, who cares? You're the one who's always going on about how we're damned."
"I do not!" Edward cried out in anger, pushing Emmett back, slapping his hand away. "I would never say that to you! I have not said that to you!" Thus far, this was the only sin Emmett had committed since his change. There were few things Edward admired more than Emmett's ability to resist the lure of human blood.
"No," Emmett agreed. "But you think you're damned, so what's the difference? We're talking about you and your reticence. Shh," Emmett soothed, lying down atop Edward again. Edward could not stop himself from looking in the man's mind. Emmett still thought he could be - no, Emmett thought that he had been - saved. More importantly, perhaps, he did not think Edward would damn him, either. Emmett did fear the state of his soul, but he did not see nursing feelings of lust and desire in Edward as damning to it.
"Why would you care? You'd rather-" Emmett stopped to kiss Edward, letting him feel his arousal on his thigh. "You'd rather turn a blind eye to this? Edward, how? I... can't."
Emmett reached for Edward's hand as they kissed. Mistakenly, Edward threaded his fingers between Emmett's. Maybe he could pretend Emmett was still suffering from the uncontrollable urges of rebirth, he thought. In all honesty, Edward had never felt desire for another man until his own.
No. Emmett laughed and released Edward's hand, covering it with his own as he wrapped the other man's fingers around his own cock. Emmett was sure. As soon as he felt the man's throbbing, warm skin, Edward wished for Emmett's hand to move, even tried to push it off with the back of his own so that he could touch Emmett the way Emmett resumed touching him. His wish was granted, and Edward slowly brought his hand up. "I am already damned," he whispered with a smirk.
"Ah, damn it, Edward!" Emmett chuckled. "Never? Really? You never saw-" Emmett shook his head and briefly let his forehead fall against Edward's shoulder as they sat facing one another, legs pretzeled together.
"I learned to avoid Rosalie's thoughts when we turned her, I had to. I avoided yours as well, mostly," Edward qualified, "because they were too strong to feel alongside my own. Newborns-"
"I'm not a newborn." No, Emmett was simply stronger and more passionate than Edward. "You never saw? Or knew?"
"Emmett, do you honestly want me to be privy to-"
"Why the hell not? Yes. Please, Edward. If that makes it easier for you then go right ahead."
Both men sighed and kissed as Edward shifted, wrapping his legs behind Emmett's back as they pressed their bodies together, thrusting into one another's hands.
"How long?" Edward asked. "Always?"
"You? Since the beginning. I thought all of you were angels, perfect, beautiful angels. I told myself it was natural to love an angel. Even once I was convinced that, supposedly, you aren't." Flattery would get him everywhere. Emmett pushed a piece of hair off of Edward's forehead as he shook his head and smiled, wide eyed and full of wonder. "You haven't looked? Really? Because you know me in this way I don't even understand. But, I understand what you are to me. I'm not a stranger to that feeling, just to feeling it about you. And even then, it's been... I don't know... a while."
Emmett had not answered Edward's question, but he had offered him the excuse to ask so many more. As they kissed, Edward looked for the answers he sought. Seeing them in Emmett's mind, he realized that, actually, Emmett had done a very good job transcribing his feelings into words. It was much as he had said. He had thought Edward was an angel, and had subsequently grown to feel things for him that he could not explain. But, Emmett knew the feelings of both love and lust. He could comprehend those feelings, even if feeling them for Edward, for a man, was entirely new to him. Emmett knew where those feelings would lead him. Edward saw all of the ways, places, and positions in which Emmett had dreamt of having Edward.
Having him. The thought was so primal that Edward could not see the fault within it. He did fear Emmett's fantasies, however, even if they mirrored his own. Giving in to them would be damning to his soul. Existing without this man's love, once felt, would be Hell.
"Edward?" Emmett slowed his hand and heaving chest. "I know that you... I mean, do you..."
Edward had not yet had the chance to retreat from Emmett's mind and saw, precisely, the words the man was looking for as he squeezed him. Edward agreed before Emmett put words to his question.
"As if I could say 'no'?" Edward sighed, hoping to mask what felt like subterfuge, even if Emmett sanctioned it. He was sure he could have said no, but he certainly did not want to.
"Lay back." Emmett whispered as he ran his hand from Edward's shoulder to his groin, slowly pushing him down. "Even your cock is beautiful," Emmett laughed. "Why are you so ashamed of something so beautiful? You know you had me scared about it? Not that it wouldn't be beautiful, but that it would be, and I wouldn't see it that way." Edward felt Emmett calming himself as he joked. "Or, that I wouldn't see it, ever, at all," he whispered.
Emmett was not doing what Edward had seen him picturing in his mind, but hearing him speak to him, no, about him in that way was surely just as arousing.
"You're just all long and... what?" Emmett paused his thoughts to ask.
"What?" Edward repeated, as he opened his eyes. Emmett sat cross-legged beside him, erect, while he stroked Edward's erection effortlessly as they spoke.
"What are you thinking?"
Edward wanted to say, 'nothing,' but to do so would not have been fair when, on a whim, he could pull all of Emmett's most private answers from him.
"I enjoy hearing you talk like that. I... the words you use..."
"Hypocrite. So I can swear if it's about you?"
"Yes."
Emmett laughed and touched his forehead to Edward's stomach, putting his lips dreadfully close to Edward's cock, dreadfully close to what it was that Emmett had not needed to ask Edward. As he sat up, Emmett passed over Edward's cock and kissed it once.
"And, for once, I know all the big words, like this one." Emmett's dimples and the fine creases around his eyes recessed as he smiled in an inappropriately innocent way. "Fellatio."
Edward groaned. No, he didn't like this talking business. No, not at all. Not after thirty-five years of the absence of this sort of touch, not with this hint of things to come, to cum, not at Emmett's hand, or lips, or body. He was willing to feel all of the lustful feelings he had suppressed. Never before had he been able to unite lust with something worthy. Commingled, the higher and lower desires formed such a need in him, one so stifled that the pressure to let go, to feel it, was overwhelming. Edward could not resist, and thrust into Emmett's hand.
"Yeah, see, that's it, Eddie. Your..." Emmett paused, leaning to inhale and brush his lips across the top of Edward's groin. "Your cock... it's so full, so flush. Do you ever wonder why we have to think about breathing, but this," he did it again, brushing his lips down Edward's cock this time, teasing him, as always. Actually, it was a familiar comfort to still be the butt of Emmett's playful ribbing. "Our cocks still have a mind of their own."
That unexplainable quirk of anatomy had crossed Edward's mind. "I don't care. Not anymore, at least, not if it serves a purpose." A purpose other than his constant vexation. And it did, now. It so perfectly did. The way Emmett's lips surrounded him was sublime.
Edward moaned, whimpering as he raised his shoulders to peer across his chest at Emmett. He thought about the women- Edward could name them all- who had touched Emmett this way. Dozens, he counted off to himself. There were dozens of women who had debased themselves, out of wedlock no less, whom Edward had been so jealous of. But now he bested them all. Not a single one had felt this. Only him. He was different, special, chosen to share a feeling those women could never truly understand.
It occurred to Edward, somehow amidst the sucking, licking, and milking of his cock, that were it not for his condition, were he not a vampire, what he felt would have been impossible. He would have been ten years older than Emmett, not a few years younger. He would have married some simple, nurturing girl and had children of his own. Edward knew, logically, he would have eagerly submitted himself to that marriage. It was different. That was what he had been supposed to do, part of the life that was ready and waiting for him to live. Even if, miraculously, his path had crossed with Emmett's, the man would have been little more than a passing temptation, not a brother, and not this.
But, as it was, Emmett had him stripped bare, exposed, and laid out for his use beneath the setting sun. Edward could not have dreamt anything better.
Emmett worked him faster, pushing back, licking, letting the tip of Edward's cock thrust against the roof of his mouth. Once or twice, Edward had felt a similar aching pressure, not through his own manipulation, but simply from listening to Emmett's. He was the one who brought about these feelings within him.
"Stop! Please!" Edward begged to no avail, trying to pull away, thrashing as large, soft hands stopped caressing his thighs and pressed into them, gripping and holding him down. On the contrary, Emmett did not stop, sucking harder, licking, moaning over Edward's flesh until Edward's intent as he screamed "please" shifted to cries of supplication. His back arched and his legs trembled as his mind went blank. Edward lost himself in Emmett's feelings as he surrendered to bliss.
To Edward's surprise, Emmett moaned as well. Why he had expected any less from him seemed as ridiculous as the circumstances of his own abandon.
They did not stop to discuss what had passed between them. Without a word, Emmett licked Edward clean, peppering him with kisses as he did, moving lower, trailing between his legs.
"Emmett! Stop, no!" Edward cried out as he squeezed and clenched.
Immediately, the man's soft lapping ceased and the kisses resumed as Emmett crept up Edward's body, draping himself over him so Edward could not scramble away in fear. Emmett cupped his cheek and kissed him slowly. "Why?" he asked as he pulled away, dark eyes staring into Edward's. The men had eaten only hours earlier, but Emmett's eyes were shaded by hunger once more. "Tell me why. I won't. I'll do whatever you want, but tell me why."
"Emmett, it's wrong."
"It's no more wrong than anything else."
"It's..." Edward paused. Was it? He did not fear the pain and he had already relinquished himself to all of his other sinful desires. "It's unclean."
Emmett smiled, laughed, and pulled Edward up into a bear hug.
"That's all?" he said, slinking back down to Edward's lap. Edward was barely aware that Emmett had pushed his chest down or that he had pulled his legs apart and set his knees up. "Edward, you haven't taken a shit in twenty years," the other man joked, relief dripping off of him. Emmett had feared that Edward would not want to, on principle, allow this, not that he would pause on the account of hygiene. "Do you really think I'd care?"
No, you like to be dirty, Edward thought, and laughed at his own brazen, errant thoughts as he felt Emmett's hands pull him apart. Instantly, Edward reveled in things he had all but forgotten as the other man's lips and tongue brushed against him, refreshing the quivers of his hips. Emmett replaced his tongue with a single finger.
"May I?" he asked, rubbing, pressing, but not entering.
Peering over his chest, Edward found the other man's darkly intent gaze and nodded silently. They did not need to discuss this, either. There was an ease in not speaking, in knowing what Emmett wanted, and having the capacity to please him. Emmett sat up and sucked his finger, wetting it, before pressing slowly, parting Edward, who responded by sucking a breath through clenched teeth as Emmett sighed and waited, as still as the statuesque figure he resembled.
"Continue," Edward panted, reveling in the feelings inside him. It bordered on pain,
perhaps it was, but it was strong, intense, and - the word that had begun it all - beautiful. It was as though this forgotten remnant of his human self was not useless. It served a higher purpose.
The flat of Emmett's hand beneath his ass, the feeling of the man's finger curling within it, sent tremors up Edward's spine. He moaned and closed his eyes, envisioning the pieces of his life locking together like a puzzle spread out upon a table. It no longer mattered that, for years, no match had been found to join his piece into the scene.
"What?" Edward asked, pulling himself out of his reverie at the sound of Emmett's voice.
"I didn't say anything. I sighed," Emmett replied. I thought it, the other man's heart sang. Mine. You're mine. This place, here - Emmett curled his finger, pushing it deeper - This is mine. Just for me. Only me. Mine. You're mine. Edward, you're mine. This was never anything else. I claim it. This is ours.
Even the subtle shift of ownership made Edward sigh and pant. A hand closed around his erection, stealing the pearl that was growing with every soft rub inside of him, and Emmett smoothed it across his own cock. There was no need for Edward to read Emmett's desires in his mind. He would take Edward there, in their place.
Sodomy.
The word still filled Edward with an immediate sense of disgust, but only with himself for ever cursing it. He damned the masses who thought such an act could possibly be heinous, when the world's greatest minds had been in agreement, thousands of years prior, that it was pure and natural. His Adonis would crash between his thighs, and the world would sing of the beauty implicit in each thrust and, more importantly, in the thoughts that fueled them.
Emmett changed course and fell against Edward's chest, kissing him as hard as their first kiss, before he licked him again, before he wet him, and grabbed his hips. Edward felt the head of the other man's hard cock and panicked, momentarily fearful of questions he dared not ask, lest they be answered with frightful truths. He wanted Emmett, as the other man had said, unconditionally, but knew Emmett had not loved most of the people he had been with.
Before Edward could test the words Emmett had not said against the man's private thoughts, he felt his doubt and apprehension part away. Aspects of himself that Edward had never felt before became central. Every part of him- his body, heart, and mind- were filled by Emmett. Just the hint of absence as he pulled back made Edward whimper and try to draw him in. And, Emmett could not have felt any less elated and transformed than Edward did. He sighed Edward's name every few strokes, pausing to smile down at him with wide-eyed elation. He shifted his weight and pulled Edward's hips higher, and Edward responded by wrapping his legs around Emmett's torso as he leaned back on his shoulders, arching his back, reaching for something to grab hold of.
Anything.
His fingers carved ruts in the stone below him as Edward searched for his carefully honed restraint. He was sure he would release and spill himself onto his own stomach. His god-like, perfect lover groaned and hissed as he thrust harder inside of Edward, gripping into his hips, gouging ruts into his flesh, and shouting Edward's name into the oncoming darkness of night. His pace grew quicker, strokes harder, and Edward felt his own building tension spool. He had no idea how long he had been watching Emmett's muscles as they twitched and flexed, but Edward knew that the burn he felt as Emmett thrust inside of him was only a transference. Emmett tried to borrow Edward's restraint but, after briefly stalling, rubbing the cuts above Edward's hip bones, he roared and bucked inside of him.
Edward felt Emmett's release, knowing he was responsible for it, and groaned. As Emmett's dark eyes burned themselves through Edward's, he lost himself as well, rocking back on Emmett's cock to feel the increase, the epitome of exquisite pain as he did. Never had he felt such conflict. Edward wanted to release as much as he never wanted to stop. The pulsation of Emmett's cock, his hands slowly opening and releasing Edward's thighs, kissing him, how could anyone be willed to stop? He could go on like this forever, without sleep, without food, without the need for anything more than this. Edward knew he could will himself to continue, use the entirety of a vampire's constantly shifting attention, and focus all of that energy on a single desire.
"Easy," Emmett soothed, as he pushed Edward's body away from his own. He tried to hitch himself back to Emmett, but conceded to release him as Emmett lay over him again, pushing Edward's legs down, together, as he straddled them, resting on his elbows. Edward wrapped his arms around Emmett's smooth back and raised his face to the other's broad shoulder. The absence of him, the empty ache, was worse than Edward had imagined it would be, worse than any of the sinful pains and losses he had already felt. How could he tear himself away from Emmett now? It was inconceivable. He had to hold onto him any way he could.
Emmett brushed the damp hair off of Edward's face and kissed him, softly, with more longing than before. The kiss tasted sweeter, too, and Edward did not want to stop. What if, when Emmett stood up, he no longer... Edward didn't dare think the thought.
"Swim?" he heard Emmett ask, as the man unstuck his chest from Edward's. "They'll know, I'm sure, but they don't have to smell it on us," Emmett laughed. "And, I don't want to explain to Esme why I have cum on my shirt."
Edward could not resist smiling at Emmett's candor as the man looked down at his own stomach and wiped it, licking the cum off of his finger as he did. Cum, Edward thought the word again. Had Emmett always known what his foul language did to Edward? How it made him think of things he wished to ignore? That he had wished to ignore. Now he wished to languish in them.
Emmett stood and reached for Edward's hand, leading him to the rock's edge as they jumped into the water with hands linked. They could not be separated by the water, limbs locked and tangled, treading minimally as they kissed. The clear sky framed a full moon above the canopy and the water shone brightly, reflecting their bodies in its rippled, mirrored surface.
Again, it was Emmett who pushed Edward back, holding him at arm's length as he caressed and washed his stomach, his cock, and then, with a delicacy that shocked Edward, the cleft of his ass. They did not resume their kiss, or speak, they simply stared. Edward could finally stare at Emmett, openly, admiring his every perfect feature. He would never argue if Emmett wished to call him beautiful, but Edward did not see how the word applied. Edward saw in his own very distinct face, and nondescript figure, barely a hint of the masculine perfection Emmett radiated.
Laughing as he splashed Edward, Emmett swam away, egging him into a chase as always. He could not have been more naturally beautiful. Moonlight pulled a softly muted shimmer of color out of the man's skin, refracting off of his back like the sheen of a pearl, softly glowing. Dressed, poised, and coiffed, Edward could never look as crafted as Emmett did without any effort.
"Hey, catch up, beautiful!" perfection shouted, as he turned to tread and wait for Edward. He did not slow down as he swam into Emmett, and they fell together beneath the water, drowning in their embrace. "Hey," Emmett repeated as they surfaced. "What's wrong?"
Something is wrong? Edward asked himself as he searched his heart for an answer.
"Everything is fine, Eddie. Don't get lost in that head of yours." Pausing to kiss Edward's forehead, Emmett laughed. "It's alright. You're allowed to miss it, but not me, okay? I'm right here. We can't be fucking all the time."
Yes, that was it. Exactly. Emmett understood. The surge of joy had subsided, and the loss Edward's body felt was felt by his heart just as profoundly. He was clinging, still, to hold on to Emmett.
"Tell me you love me," he whispered into the man's chest as Emmett wrapped around him, even hooking an ankle around Edward's.
"You know everything I feel, Edward. Go ahead and look. Don't worry."
Not the words Edward had asked to hear. "Say it?"
"I will," Emmett bruised Edward's ribs as he held him. "But not like this." Edward opened his mouth to protest. "No, not like this. Not because you're telling me to. That's... too cheap for something that means so much. It's the kind of thing that means the most when you don't even know you're saying it."
"It means enough to me now. Please, Emmett."
Emmett's black eyes shut and he took a deep breath. "I said no, Edward. Please. Leave it. Don't worry about three words. Not now."
The same thought screamed through Edward's mind. It was all he could hear, the one word that Emmett had said which echoed: 'no.' "When then? When should I worry? Tomorrow? In a week? A month? A year?"
"Edward, stop," Emmett said, doing the unthinkable, pushing away from him completely. "This is hard enough as it is. Don't complicate things. Let's go back to camp. The others will worry if we don't make an appearance soon."
"Emmett," Edward pleaded, brushing the man's fingertips beneath the water's surface. Briefly, Emmett looked at him with affection.
"I don't hear you saying it either, you... bastard," Emmett whispered, trailing off. "I break every rule for you and you set conditions?"
"I gave myself to you..." Edward said, closing his eyes, shaking his head.
"Yeah? And?"
"And I want to know if-"
Emmett exploded out of the water. "If? You're..." Emmett paused at the water's edge, choosing his words carefully where Edward had not. He was looking for the right curse, Edward could tell. The man was angry, furious. He felt rejected. "You're doubting me? After that?"
Him? Edward thought. He feels rejected? After Edward had refused him nothing?
No, he had refused him. Emmett was right; he did not hear Edward pledging his heart, either. But, Edward honestly felt that he had done so in giving himself to Emmett. He had surrendered everything to him.
Nearly.
And Emmett had nearly given Edward everything as well.
Edward shook his head, saying "no" aloud as he realized the flaw in his perception. Emmett had not taken Edward. Emmett had given Edward the greatest gift he could, greater than anything he had ever received.
All Edward had done was ask for more.
"No?" Emmett shouted aloud as he ran from the shore, too quickly for Edward to react, to surge from the water and seize him in his arms. He could not catch Emmett when he had a lead on him, and he was gone before Edward could see which direction he had torn off in. Edward could do nothing but gather their things, sans Emmett's trousers, and return to camp.
Alone.
At camp, he was grabbed by Esme, who knew instantly that something was wrong. Edward briefly allowed himself the hope that Emmett had gone there, that he was with Rosalie, tangled on the floor of her tent, shouting her name as he growled through each stroke. That would have been preferable to not knowing where the man was. Instead, Rosalie attacked Edward, scratching him, pulling him to the ground so that she could have an outlet for her anger.
It was then that Edward's heart broke. Not only had he taken Emmett from his sister, he had lost him. In theory, Emmett was still Rosalie's newborn to take care of, but the Cullen family had become lax in their treatment of their great, smiling teddy bear, forgetting that his self-control was as much of a farce as Edward's. Eventually, he would break and falter; they all did, but they never did so alone. Emmett was still a newborn. His passion was uncontrollable, and Edward had done more than anger him, he'd made him feel rejected, thrown his gift back into his face. They did not need to voice their fears aloud. Were it not for his family, Edward would have run off into the night himself, and taken everything from anyone he could have gotten his hands on. Emmett's eyes would not stop staring into Edward's mind as he recalled their color as much as their pain. In such desperation Emmett would... No, Edward could not even think such a thought.
Deliberation was brief. Rosalie and Carlisle left to search for Emmett, leaving their best tracker behind. He would be the one Emmett would need to see if he came back on his own. Esme, the most soothing, stayed too, as much for her older son as for her younger one. Edward tried to explain to her what had happened, that he had attempted to coax a genuine feeling from Emmett at a disingenuous moment, that he had pressed him much too far, and acted out of foolishness. It was Edward who had been disingenuous, trying to force a vow from Emmett. That had been his mistake, though he loved his flawless, beautiful Emmett.
"And I will, always," he whispered aloud, as he knelt on an unremarkable rock face by a nameless stream just out of earshot from the Cullens' camp. Edward wished, not for solitude to ponder his mistakes, but that Emmett could experience his thoughts with him. "Unconditionally." He did not know what time they had left the stream, nor did Edward notice where the moon hung in the sky. He did not count the hours he spent sobbing tearlessly in silence until his weary body smelt a change in the air and heard a single word.
Mine.
Edward could smell the man's sin on him as he reclined beside him at arm's length. He felt the absence of his beloved even more when reminded of his presence, remembering the beauty in what they had so recently shared, trying to feel the place, the feelings, Edward no longer owned. He turned to examine the expression on Emmett's face and found it without a hint of any feeling or any movement.
Emmett had not spoken. Emmett had only thought a single word as he closed his eyes and hooked a finger around one of Edward's.
The physical contact would ground him.