"The Me and Mr McCarty" One-Shot Contest
Title: Never Say No To A Kiss
Summary: Rosalie has been waiting three days for his touch. What happens when she gets more than she expects?
Pen name: Kimmydonn
Primary Players: Emmett/Rosalie
Rating: M
Word Count: 9623
Beta'd by: Sharebear and Miss Beckie Louise
Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.
To see other entries in the "Me and Mr McCarty" contest, please visit the C2: www fanfiction net/community/Me_Mr_McCarty_Contest_Entries/80509/
and/or the official List of Entries Page on the contest blog. meandmrmccarty blogspot
"I know it hurts, baby. I remember. It hurt for me too. You're going to be like me soon. You're going to be stronger and faster than you have ever imagined." I told him that at the beginning. Edward was worried about controlling him as a newborn. I couldn't argue with him; he was right. At the same time, I knew it would be worth it – he was worth it. And we could do it, I was certain.
"I'm still here, Emmett. I'm never going to leave you. We are going to have eternity to spend together, getting to know each other. You are going to give me something to make this new life worth living. Someone to truly share it with. I'm going to walk with you through all the days ahead, show you everything that makes you special, that makes us special." That had been the second day. All I knew of him was his name. I wasn't even sure he was from Tennessee. He had been in the middle of nowhere with the bear. He might have been camping. Even so, I was drawn to him, a magnetic pull that I couldn't deny. I needed him. I needed to be with him. I needed to touch him, just as I was now, holding his hand.
I continued to make circles on the back of his hand, which I held as he writhed and tried not to scream. He was screaming less now, his voice hoarse.
"Her name was Vera. She had a beautiful baby. A boy. His name was Henry. He was eight pounds when he was born, and thirteen, or thereabouts, the last time I held him. He had curly dark hair, almost black, the same colour as yours. That was one of the reasons I noticed you, one of the reasons I was watching you. He had dimples like you, too - deep and beautiful. He was innocent; all babies are. Something in your face seemed innocent, as though the world hadn't been able to touch you yet. Your heart is still pure, isn't it? I wish mine was.
"I wish I knew more about you. I am so glad I made it to Carlisle, so glad he was able to save you. I'm sure it doesn't seem that way now, but he did. He saved you for me. Maybe you can take-"
"Rosalie," Edward interrupted me. I glared at him. "He's awake."
"Emmett?" I asked, clutching his hand more tightly now that I knew it couldn't hurt him. I watched his eyelids flutter and waited for them to open, waited for him to see me with his new eyes.
"Am I in heaven?" he asked. His deep voice boomed. "There was an angel - talking to me." His eyes opened. They were brilliant rubies, pointed straight at me. He'd known I was here the whole time just as I had heard Carlisle and the others while I burned.
"That's her, the one that saved me. Is this heaven? I thought it would be brighter."
I smiled brightly. He was confused, but I couldn't blame him. It was night and quite dark in the room as we didn't need light to see.
"I'm not an angel," I tried to explain. "And this isn't heaven. This is still Earth, but it will look new to you." He was already seeing more than he ever had before, hearing more clearly, and the thirst would be burning him.
"Yes," he answered. "Clearer, brighter. I can see every hair on your head." He reached a hand toward me. I smiled, awaiting his touch. I had held his hand, but he couldn't touch me in return. Now he would. One hand became two. They closed on me like a vice, trapping me in his embrace. His lips crashed into mine, pulling them apart, giving his tongue entrance.
I started struggling, my first thoughts flying back to the human memory I had relived so many times it was almost clear. Being held down on the ground just like this, my clothes torn from me, just as I heard and felt them tear. Feeling his erection between my legs, where they had ripped into me, breaking me.
I managed to pull my head away, turn to the side. "No!" I screamed, kicking and punching at him. He was going to rip and tear me. He was going to pull me to pieces. He was going to use me, fuck me, spit on me, beat me, and then do it all again. He wouldn't have to stop like the humans did. He didn't need a group - he could do it all on his own. It was less than a second, but two pairs of hands, one on each of his round shoulders, pulled him off me.
His arms let me go, and I scrambled out, running.
I had reached the garden shed when I felt my own stupidity, my own shame. Less than a second since I had fled the room, but my brain switched to a new gear now that my instincts weren't clouding me. He hadn't been trying to rape me. He was feeling just what I had been moments before his eyes opened. He only wanted to touch me, not hurt me. I was a fool. Why did I think I could be happy? What had I ever done to deserve happiness? I deserved better than my human life had given me, but perhaps I was asking too much now. Perhaps I would never be happy with Emmett as I had pictured the last three days. Maybe Edward had been right all along.
"No," I whispered. Then my frustration got the better of me. I hit one wall, grabbing a hoe. I snapped the handle in my hands and folded the edge. I threw myself at the opposite wall, remembering how I had been abused; I grabbed a saw and ripped its teeth off by pulling it against my skin. Then I bent it in half and threw it to ground. I ran the other way, finding a hammer. I hit it against my stomach the way they had punched me to make me lie still. The head flew off and my grip broke the handle. I tossed it on the pile. I threw myself at the opposite wall again.
"That is enough!" Esme's voice rang like a bell and the anger and authority were hard in it.
I whirled to face her, not having grabbed my next implement of torture. "No! It's not enough," I screamed at her.
I made to grab and she lunged, locking her arms around me, not unlike Emmett had. Her touch didn't frighten me. For one thing, it was only barely stronger than my own. For another, I knew Esme. I knew she wasn't trying to hurt me, she was trying to help. "It is. Talk," she demanded.
I shook my head. My eyes burned as tears that couldn't form, tried. My breath came in a sob. "No."
"Rosalie. It's all right. We understand."
She couldn't. She had been hurt, but she had known love, if only for a short time. She had made love without fear, if only once. "No."
"He didn't know, Rosalie. Edward and Carlisle are going to tell him."
They were going to tell him? Tell him how damaged I was, how worthless. Tell him how impossible it was to love me? "What? What are they going to tell him?"
"What happened to you. Why you reacted the way you did. He was confused." Esme's arms let go. I didn't really notice. I was still trying to understand what she had said. He was confused. He hadn't been trying to hurt me.
"I remember, Rosalie. I'd already calmed by the time you came to us. There weren't many days that first year that I didn't spend in Carlisle's arms. It's a hunger almost as strong as thirst." I remembered the need to touch him, even just his hand. "We need our mates. I can control it, but it's still there. You remember being a newborn. If a human had been put under your nose those first days, what would you have done? Could you have resisted? Would you think to try?"
Human blood. I hadn't encountered a human for nearly an entire month after I woke, even then it had been hard to resist. "No."
"And neither did he. He needed to feel you, to touch you. He didn't know he shouldn't, that he needed to be careful. He will now. If he has any ability, he will try to fight it. But it won't be easy for him, Rose. You feel it too, don't you? That's why you saved him."
I nodded. I had felt it, a pull I couldn't fight. Would he fight it? I looked at my hands. I couldn't fight him; that was certain. Wrapping them around my waist, I tried to hold myself together.
"Don't be afraid, Rosalie. He isn't going to hurt you. He isn't like them."
He wouldn't mean to hurt me. "He could. He could rip me in two. It took Carlisle and Edward to pull him off, and I was pushing." I felt myself shaking.
"He could; do you think he would?"
I answered without thinking. "I don't know him, Esme." It was true, but I knew that if he felt as I did, he couldn't hurt me; he needed me too much.
Esme did what she did best. I had fought her trying to mother me in the past, but right now there was nothing I wanted more. Esme hugged me, held me, soothed me, and consoled me. I hid my face in her hair at her neck and tried to cry again. This woman knew my pain.
"Do you think you chose poorly? Do you regret asking Carlisle to do this?" she asked, still holding me close.
I had thought so when I came in here. I had thought Edward was right. He wasn't. Emmett loved and needed me. He was going to stay with me through everything, trying for me.
"No. You're right." I straightened. That was when I saw my wreckage on the floor. "I'm sorry about your tools, Esme."
"They're only things. I'm much more worried about you, dear."
It didn't make me feel better. I had overreacted and thrown a newborn worthy tantrum. I would help her replace them.
"They're hunting?" I verified. That would be what Emmett needed most right now. He needed something to quench the burn in his throat. Then he would want me again. I would do my best to be somewhere safe. Somewhere he could learn to control himself. I couldn't let him attack me like that again. I would never forget that our first kiss had terrified me, but I'd be damned again if I let our second be ruined the same way.
Esme nodded, confirming my logic. "I should do the same. Thank you, Esme."
"Anytime, love." She still held me and patted my back once more before I tore off into the woods, careful to avoid Emmett's trail.
After taking a deer, I rounded for home, knowing the men would be longer. Emmett would need more than one kill to sate him at all. I approached Esme in the garden, using her hands to weed in the early morning light.
"I'm really sorry. I got the hoe, didn't I?"
"Yes, it's fine. I'll get another. These are so small they're easy to pull." The tulips were just opening their heads, red and yellow, contrasting with their thick green leaves. "Why don't you head upstairs before the boys get back?"
I nodded. It would be easier for Emmett if he didn't see or smell me right away. From my room, I looked out the window at the trees that bordered our property. I knew he was coming; I could feel it in my gut. Every cell of my body was pulled by him. Esme was still in the garden when Emmett came up to her. Edward came inside straight away; Carlisle had a quiet exchange with Esme before entering himself.
Emmett stood beneath my window looking right up at me. His blood-red eyes captured mine and I tried to smile. His dimples were hidden along with his smile. His brow was creased. His face looked wrong like that – too old, too troubled.
"She's afraid of me," Emmett said. I could just barely hear him through the wall.
Esme's voice was much clearer. "Yes, she is. You understand why."
I felt the prickling of non-existent tears.
"Yes." The wall shook as he thumped his head to the siding. The glass rattled in the pane. I backed away from the window.
Edward came in then, distracting me. "He knows. He's going to try to fight it. It's not easy, you know that." He knew how heavily Emmett was on my mind. He also knew what Carlisle and Esme had been like her first year. I had only heard about that second hand. They were somewhat discreet around us, covering their lovemaking with music or going outside. More often the latter as even music didn't always drown them out for Edward. I wasn't having those thoughts, but I was lingering on his nose, his lips, his eyes... I heard stone crunching outside and could easily guess who it was.
"He's not going to hurt you, Rosalie. He only wants to love you," Edward assured me.
"I know. I don't know if I can let him. I don't know if I deserve him."
Then Edward did something he almost never did. He touched me. Just a hand on my arm. He gave my bicep a gentle squeeze before turning to leave. I appreciated even the small gesture.
He opened the door and suddenly ran. I stood in the doorway wondering what had happened, or was happening.
"Emmett, no," Esme shouted from below. I walked to the stairs knowing I would be of little help by this point.
"Carlisle," Esme said seconds later, kicking open the door.
"Esme?" he asked, coming out of his office. He met my eye briefly before descending the staircase. "Janice," he murmured.
"Emmett smelled her. We couldn't stop him." Esme said, holding his colleague out to him. "I need to see to Emmett now."
"He did this?" I asked from the landing. It seemed proof of my folly. It was as though I had killed the woman myself. I'd met her. Only a few times, but I had known her, and I had killed her.
"Yes. He threw both Edward and I out of his way."
"I shouldn't have done this," I murmured, turning back to my room. I needed to think. I needed to plan how we would destroy the creature that made my heart sing. He was too strong, too erratic, and too dangerous. I couldn't tame him. Looking out the window, I saw the remnants of one of Esme's boulders. I also saw that her pretty tulips, the ones that hadn't even opened fully, were crushed. I turned away and sank to the floor. We would have to surround him, move together, and use our speed. I felt a sob, thinking of taking that beautiful head from his shoulders.
I heard Esme come up the stairs and open my door. I looked up from my knees. "What have I done?" I didn't realize I was mumbling.
"You did what you thought was right. He's a newborn, Rosalie. His responses are instinctual. I talked with him a little. He's a big boy. You know you've just given me a son less mature than Edward. Thank you very much."
The thought of the curly haired boy made me smile in spite of myself. "He is?"
"Yes; he sat on my tulips." She shook her head a little exasperated.
"And killed a woman."
"You can't hold yourself responsible for that. It was bad luck. It is so rare anyone calls on us here. If she'd used the telephone, as instructed, she'd still be alive. Please, Rosalie, consider letting him try?" She sat next to me now, putting an arm around my shoulders. "It doesn't have to hurt. It doesn't have to be horrible. I know we try to keep our relationship out of your ears, but maybe you need to know that."
I shook my head, stopping her. "No, I understand that."
She chuckled a little.
"I'm just worried it can't be good for me." My voice was morose.
"You don't know if you don't try. If he does something you don't like, tell him. There is so much you can do together, you'll find something."
"Dare I?" I wondered how strong the pull was for him. Would he be impossible to stop like before?
"Dare you not? How will you feel if you never touch him again?" She looked at me levelly, obviously knowing the answer.
I thought about that, about how I felt moments before, trying to plan his destruction. "Empty."
"Exactly. I'll leave the door open, all right?"
I shivered even as she hugged my shoulders, not rising from the floor.
His large frame filled the doorway. I lifted my eyes slowly.
"Angel?"
I smiled. "Rosalie. They told you my name, certainly."
"Maybe, once or twice." He came to sit next to me and folded his hands on his knees. He was holding his breath. He lifted one arm over my head.
I shifted over, into his side.
He slipped his arm behind my head onto my shoulder and pulled me into him. His pants didn't hide his intention, but I actively ignored it, putting my cheek to his chest instead, drinking in his wonderful scent – cedar and juniper. He wrapped the second arm to meet the first.
I felt his arms trembling. He still hadn't breathed. "I can go," I whispered, shifting.
"No," he commanded. He took one deep breath and groaned. "You smell so good. I want to touch every inch of you, kiss all of your skin... I'm sorry."
"No, I understand. Thank you, for fighting it." I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him back.
His large hand moved up and down my back, strong but gentle. "I don't want to scare you, angel. I don't want to hurt you. I want to give you everything you should have had." He moved one hand into my hair, fingers disappearing into my honey locks. "Just let me know when."
I sighed, wanting to cry again. I put my face into his shirt again. Esme had had to try twice to find something that fit. "I need you, Emmett."
"I need you too, babe."
I chuckled. "I have a name."
"I know, Rosalie." My body thrummed with the sound of his voice saying my name. It was as though my spine was an instrument and he had just plucked it.
I turned my face up, eyes closed, relishing that sensation, the subtle vibration of sound, the reaction in me.
Warm full lips met mine and I gasped. He pulled away, groaning. It was painful to stop. I felt it too. So I didn't let him get far, putting my lips back to his.
"Oh," he exhaled, putting his giant paw to my cheek. It covered my ear and temple as well. His pinky finger was under my jaw. He didn't pry my mouth open as before, merely touching my lip with his tongue.
I held back a flinch, instead, pulling a little more of his lip into my mouth, rolling my bottom lip, moving his tongue over it.
I pulled back now, very gently. His thumb stroked under my eye, over my cheekbone. His eyes were shifting slightly as I was sure mine were, taking in every pore, every shadow, every shade, and every line.
"You are one hell of a dish, you know that?"
"Ah, you are a romantic," I said with a smile and chuckle.
"I'm not eloquent like that brother of yours. I wish I really could close my head(1) around him."
I laughed louder. "You aren't alone."
His lips came to mine more quickly this time, taking me by surprise. Again he simply held them to mine, although both our mouths were slightly open. I peeked my tongue out and it touched his.
Instead of fear, it was like something had ignited inside me. I moved into his lap, his hardness pressing against my leg. My hands came behind his neck, threading through his curls.
"Damn," he swore, his hands on my waist now, shaking again. He was holding me but not pressing, not pushing. He wanted to, I could feel it.
My tongue was exploring his mouth now, feeling my way along the inside of his lip. I had never kissed anyone like this. I'd never felt so complete with anyone before. My breasts burned where they brushed against his chest, and he groaned again. I hated that I made this so hard for him, but I was doing the best I could.
I pulled my tongue back, letting him explore my mouth now, no longer afraid to have him there. This wasn't trespassing; this was an invitation. My hand moved inside his collar, feeling the rigid shape of his deltoid, gripping it, my nails digging in.
"Angel. I-" He pulled his mouth back but I didn't let him get more than those few syllables out. If I stopped now, I didn't know if I could start again.
Emmett moved his hand up my side, reaching the curve of my breast. They seemed small compared to his hands. I still remembered how they had been bruised and beaten, bitten and cut. His touch was nothing like theirs. It was feather light, and when his thumb brushed the tip, I moaned into his mouth.
Esme had been right. This could feel good. It could feel good to me. I knew I couldn't bear to have him lie with me yet, but I could let him touch me. I could touch him.
I pulled open the buttons on his shirt, running my fingers through the hair on his chest, the tiny dark curls, coarse yet soft.
He slid one hand down to my hip, cupping my bottom, shifting my weight. I realized I was probably putting a lot of pressure where he least wanted it.
"Sorry," I whispered.
"Don't think about it," he told me. "Just keep kissing me."
I was happy to comply.
We kissed for hours, my mouth eventually wandering over his face, his eyelids, his nose, his jaw, his ears. He lavished my neck, pressing his tongue against my throat. He nibbled my ear lobe; he fondled my breasts, my hair. He made me feel more beautiful than anyone had before, and they had tried. I didn't care in that moment if anyone ever thought me beautiful again, as long as Emmett did.
I had completely removed his shirt and was running my hands over his skin. As much as he may have wished to remove my dress, he didn't, contenting himself with moving his hands over the cotton fabric. It was only when his hand found my calf that I realized my skirt was hiked at all. I turned my head, looking down at it.
"Too much?" he asked, his mitt large enough to wrap around even my calf. I saw another, smaller, less gentle appendage for a split-second before banishing the memory. I grabbed his hand and pulled it up to my thigh, pushing more skirt out of the way.
"Rosalie," he murmured, making my heart thrum again. This time I felt the heat in my center, somewhere that hadn't felt good since before my last human day. I shifted again pressing my heat to his and unprepared for the result.
I jumped back from the fire inside me, inside him. I landed on my feet, standing in front of him. The sun had gone down. I realized I had no idea what my family was doing, what they thought I was doing. Then I heard the music playing. Edward was drowning us out. Good.
Emmett stayed on his knees before me. "Don't be scared, babe. Please don't run away," he begged, putting his hands on my hips, pulling me back to him, his face in my skirt, nose in my navel. I groaned, my hands finding his hair again, gripping it this time, nails scratching on his scalp. His breath stirred me and I swayed slightly. His hands came up under my skirt to steady me, on my knickers. I whimpered a little.
He looked up, turning his head against my grip. Then he smiled, those dimples appearing like magic. "May I?" he asked, his hands moving around over the top of my thighs, lifting my skirt in front of him.
"Yes," I murmured, still afraid, but wanting to try. He wasn't trying to hurt me. He was loving me.
He used those giant hands to roll the fabric up over my hips, revealing the white eyelet that covered me. He leaned his face into me groaning. I gasped at the feel of his breath, his lips, his nose moving on me. He let my skirt go, pinned by his forehead, gripping my rear again. His fingers roamed up, finding the skin of my lower back, popping open the buttons on the back of my dress.
His fingers curled slowly into the band of my knickers. I bit my lip, still lost in the pleasure he was giving me, not wanting to stop him. He was doing so well, making me feel safe, secure in his arms.
"Yes, Emmett," I whispered, answering before he asked.
He tore them and I jumped again, my back against the door.
"Shit, I'm sorry, Rosalie." He hadn't moved from the floor.
It was a reflex. I wasn't frightened, so I pulled my bodice, hearing the buttons scatter on the floor as they popped off. I pulled the dress down and off. Standing in only my torn knickers, neglecting a corset today, I felt very exposed.
Emmett's mouth was agape. He opened his arms beckoning me. I stepped slowly back into the circle he made for me. He pulled my knickers slowly over my hips and down to my ankles. It was much more sensual this way, feeling his hands on my legs. I tried to keep my breathing even, tried not to anticipate, not to fear.
"You are so beautiful, angel," he murmured, his face finding my sex again.
My fingers tangled in his hair again. I sipped in small gulps of air, trying to keep myself together. My mind kept looking for the pain around the corner. They hurt, then they played, then they hurt. He wasn't going to hurt me, but part of my mind was still expecting it.
He pulled his face away, his eyes a little sad. It had felt very good, but I couldn't let go, always waiting for the worst. He stood now, still in his pants. "Excuse me," he murmured, unfastening the tight material and letting them fall. He sighed with relief as he was freed of their confines.
I stared. I shook. It was evil. It was an implement of torture, of pain. One hand was on my mouth the other held in front of me like a shield.
"Shhhh. I'm not going to hurt you. I just couldn't take those pants anymore. Here," he swept me up, and I only kicked once before he laid me on the settee. I didn't have a bed, never needing one before. He knelt beside me, putting his lips to mine. "Safely away, right?" He backed up to check my reaction.
It was only sort of away. It was just below me. I looked at it, my hand stretching very slowly toward its thick length. Emmett's eyes were on me. He didn't move, waiting for me to finish. He had a hand on my hip and his thumb stroked gently as he waited. He put the other to my cheek.
"It's all right," he promised. "I won't hurt you."
My hand continued to straighten, one finger touching the tip. He hissed and I pulled back, huddling in on myself.
"Sorry. Sensitive. How about I touch you instead?" He moved his hand over my hip and kissed me again. I slowly relaxed as his stroking eased my muscles, his gentle kisses soothed me. I put a hand to his face, another on his shoulder, drifting along his broad back.
His hand moved between my legs and I tensed a little. He held still. He didn't say anything. He continued to kiss me. Slowly my legs relaxed and his fingers brushed along me. I gasped, my eyes flying open.
Again his face was oddly sad. The dimples missing. It was wrong. I needed to bring them back. I slid both my hands quickly down his ribs.
He wrapped his arms around himself reflexively and twitched, grinning. "Don't," he warned, a gleam in his eye.
"Don't what?" I asked, all innocence. I sat up now crossing my legs.
He groaned. "It isn't fair how good you look. Who could have hurt such a beautiful thing? I hope the cretin died horribly."
"He did," I answered flatly.
He met my eyes and smiled again. "You?" he asked.
I nodded once.
"My kinda dame." He moved onto me, kissing me again.
I felt his hardness against my knee. I risked touching it again, this time putting my hand around it.
He groaned again, rolling his head into my shoulder and neck. I looked at him, his face crumpled. He looked vulnerable, like he had with the bear that nearly killed him. I wasn't afraid of him now. I loosened my hold a bit and his features smoothed. His eyes were still closed, but he put a hand over mine, guiding it up and down his length. He huffed into my hair.
"I'm not going to last long. Is that all right?" he asked, concerned for me again.
It was a worthy concern. It had made me feel so dirty to be covered in their fluids, their piss, their vomit, their ejaculate, my vomit, my blood. I didn't stop though. I was enjoying making him feel good, and his face was crumpling again. I touched my lips lightly to his and he whimpered. He throbbed in my hand and I felt the warm gel on my thighs.
He lifted his head finally. Taking my cheeks in his hands, he kissed me more fully, his tongue tracing my lips. "You didn't have to do that."
I put my arms around his neck and clung to him, feeling relief. I had done it. I wore him without feeling worthless. I wanted to cry with joy, but of course he only heard my sobs.
"Shhh, angel. It's all right. I'll clean it up."
I laughed. "No. Well, yes. Why don't you pass me those?" I pointed to my ruined knickers. He reached them easily and gave them to me. I swept up the small streak, it was nothing to what I had imagined, what I remembered. It didn't burn in wounds, it didn't stick and dry, it just wiped away, leaving a warm spot where it had been. I put my empty hand on it in wonder.
"I need to go," he muttered, pulling on the pants again. "I need-" he was speaking quickly, antsy. He was thirsty. I should have realized. We'd been here too long.
"Of course, let's go."
I pulled on another dress, one without buttons, tying the belt behind me. He left the shirt off, striding out into the hall.
Edward caught my arm. "Can we talk? Esme and Carlisle will go with him."
I met his eyes. Why would Edward want to talk to me?
"Emmett, you look thirsty. There should be some large prey farther out. Follow me?" I could hear Carlisle below although I couldn't see him. Hearing the door bang shut behind them I turned back to Edward.
"What is it?" I made an effort to make my voice less sharp, but it was still biting.
"You are doing really well. It's hard for him. I don't know if you realize how hard."
"I'll thank you to stay out of our heads when-"
"Wait," he interrupted me. "You know what, forget it. You think I like being privy to that? Just turn the music on next time like Carlisle and Esme, if you please." He turned back to his room, slamming his door like the spoiled child he was.
I was no better. I knocked on his door, my thoughts apologetic.
"Accepted," he said opening it. "I was trying to help."
"So help. What do I do now?" I was swimming uncharted waters. Granted Edward hadn't swum them either, but he'd certainly learned more than enough vicariously.
"What you're already doing, lead. He'll follow if you lead."
I nodded. It would be easier if I knew where I was leading him.
"I'm not answering that," Edward closed the door again with a bang. I couldn't help but laugh. I hadn't been asking him that. Embarrassing Edward was sort of fun though.
"Yes, very droll," he moaned through the wall.
I ran to follow the man of my life.
They had gone several miles and I wasn't so much faster as to be able to catch up. He was feasting on a mountain lion when I did find them. Carlisle and Esme had gone in separate directions, probably checking for human presence. I watched as he wrapped his large arms under the cat's paws. The claws scrabbled ineffectually on his forearms and the rear legs pawed the air as well. Emmett had lifted the cougar well off the ground. I watched the muscles of his arms flex as he strengthened his hold, the tendons of his neck raise as he drank hungrily. He was beautiful.
He growled loudly as he threw the lifeless body from him into a tree. It hit with a loud enough crack to break the trunk. I could see his profile, one deep dimple, a grin on his face, hair in disarray. My body called for his. I stepped forward slowly, still tentative. I made sure to snap a twig in my progress.
He turned to me, smile slipping. I didn't let it fall far. I crashed into him, pulling myself up and his face down so that I might kiss him.
He put his hands to my waist and held me up. His large mitts nearly circled me completely. They were warm and calloused; he must have been a labourer. That would also explain his muscular frame, years of heavy lifting. It was another thing that set him apart from them.
He set me down, pulling back. I heard the others approaching then as well. I turned slightly to face Esme and Carlisle as they came through the trees.
"Rosalie," Esme said with a smile. "We'll leave you two then. No people to the east, if you head out again."
"I don't recommend west," Carlisle said with a nod in my direction. He and Esme left again for the house.
"Still thirsty?" I asked Emmett.
"Yes," he admitted sheepishly.
"Then let's go. Catch me if you can," I teased, running east. He wouldn't be able to - he was strong, but not fast. I stumbled on a den and stopped abruptly. Emmett was behind me less than a second later. He swung me by the waist. "Gotchya."
I giggled. He held me gently although tightly enough that I knew I couldn't break his hold. There was a growl behind him and I smiled brightly.
"I think the bear won't win this time," I teased.
His eyes positively glowed as the smile widened on his face. He really was a big boy. I couldn't wait to watch him play.
He let go of me, spinning to growl back at the bear. He held his arms up and out, fists high. He walked right into the grizzly's grasp, giving it a literal bear hug. The bear's claws scraped on his sides, just as the one that had killed him had, but this time his skin wasn't even scratched. He shook his head as he bit through the thick neck and I fought a laugh. He growled again as he lifted the bear off the ground, heaving the rear legs over his shoulder. He slammed the motionless creature to the ground raising a cloud of dust and leaves. He pulled back one fist and slammed it right into the bear's middle. There was no splattering of blood as Emmett had already drunk all of it.
He laughed as he rose. "Yes!" he lifted his hands over his head. "That was fun." He ran back to me, his arms circling, one on my back, one in my hair. He kissed me, his mouth soft and warm. I could feel the heat of the new blood in him. He pulled back with a smacking sound. "I love you, angel." He let go of me then. I was a little surprised, doubly when he ran from me. I chased after. He came upon a large buck. I watched him wrestle the deer, taking antlers in hand and planting heels, twisting. The shape of his body, the flexing in his chest, the strain on his trousers as his legs bulged, all worked together to warm me inside. The buck twisted the other way and Emmett flipped him right on to his back. The deer tucked his feet under him and kicked back up, attempting to butt Emmett. My mate laughed and let the antlers crash into his torso, snapping on the separate ridges of his abdomen. Then he took the deer as well. He was insatiable; I couldn't remember drinking so much in one day. I had stepped closer while he toyed with his prey, enthralled by his carefree nature, his joy in the fight even when the fight was small. I was only a pace away from him when he turned to face me fully, dropping his third kill, one only slightly smaller than the previous two. I took the last step that separated us and put my hands flat on his chest, feeling the planes. I slid them down, outlining each abdominal muscle with my fingers, finally stroking my index finger along the top of his trousers.
"You're going to make me tear those if you keep that up," he warned with the same boyish smile.
"I think you need a new pair anyway," I retorted.
He laughed. "Definitely."
"Have you had enough for now?"
"For now," he answered, never taking his eyes off mine. He ran a hand down one of my bare arms. I didn't regret choosing a dress with short sleeves. He took my hand and lifted it to his mouth, taking one of my fingers and sucking it.
I gasped at the sensation. It was like when he had tasted me earlier, but I had no defensive reaction to this. I felt his tongue circle the pad of my finger, my nail and then pull slowly from me. I looked to my hand for a second before looking back up at him.
He was grinning even more broadly. He waggled his eyebrows. "Like that?"
I laughed at the gesture. It was both suggestive and far too playful to be threatening in any way. I gave him a shove and he fell onto his back, as though my light tap had knocked him over. He didn't let go of my hand though and I fell atop him.
"You great lug," I complained, smacking his arm as I laughed.
"I've fallen for you," he punned and I groaned. He laughed and wrapped arms around me before rolling. I giggled as we rolled one over the other until he stopped at a tree. I was atop him again, leaves in my dishevelled hair. I tucked loose locks behind my ear, my other arm bracing me up against his chest.
That was when I realized how I was straddling him, where he rested against me. He wasn't as hard as before, but I could feel him. I closed my eyes and tried to stay calm. I opened them to his smiling face. He used his hands to push more hair from my cheeks.
I took a breath and shifted down on him. His hands tightened on me and his member stiffened further as I moved on it. My dress was splayed and my bare leg felt the warmth emanating from him.
"Doll?" he asked me. "Are you sure?"
I shook my head but put my hand to his waist anyway, opening his trousers. He caught my wrists.
"You don't have to," he assured me.
"Yes, I do." He needed this. I needed this. I remembered how he had looked wrestling his prey, the lines of his body, the ripple of his muscles. Desire swelled me and I had no trouble finishing with his buttons and exposing him again. I looked away quickly to his face.
He was watching me, concern on his features.
"Don't make me tickle you," I warned.
There it was again - that smile, those dimples. I leaned forward to kiss him, and as I did, his phallus lifted, brushing against me. Instead of the expected reaction, fear and pain, I experienced quite the opposite. It was like a match head, striking and lighting. I gasped and slid down, feeling him enter me. I held my breath, worried that now the pain would come.
When there was still none, I laughed. It made my insides move on him and he groaned, pulsing in me, arching.
"Emmett?"
"You've just blown me down(2), that's all," he murmured and I felt the twitch inside me, wetness leaking out. Had I?
"Did you?"
He laughed and I felt him move inside of me again. It was the opposite of pain, the complete and utter opposite. My mouth fell open and I pushed down on him, groaning as I tried to hold on more tightly to the man inside me. The more I did, the more he moved.
"Angel," he moaned. His hands found my hips, holding me.
"Good," I murmured, quivering in his grasp.
"Yeah? Good, keep doing that." He moved his hips into mine and I gasped again, emitting a little squeak.
He smiled broadly. "Yes, Rosalie. Don't fight it, feel it."
"Ah!" I cried out, feeling the forest whirl around me as my mind, which had never been so completely filled by anything, forgot my thirst, forgot my hurt, forgot I had ever been hurt. Everything was this man, this moment, this feeling. I panted, even though I didn't need air, it felt right. I was lying atop Emmett and his arms were around me again, stroking my back as he kissed my cheek and chin.
"Feel better?" he asked.
I laughed, "Never. I've never felt better. I knew you'd make this life worth living." I was on my side, curled into him and I pulled him atop me now. "Now, tell me more about yourself, Emmett. Before you make me lose my mind again."
"Mmmm," he purred, his lips coming to mine. I stopped them with a finger.
"Ah, ah. What you get will be determined by what you give."
His smile broadened. "I love games. All right." He pulled a leaf from my hair and looked at it, oak. "I was born in Knoxville, fourth son of John and Emily McCarty. I have one sister and she is the most spoiled thing you ever saw." He paused in his talking to run a hand up my leg. My eyes closed, but I wasn't done enjoying the sound of his voice yet. I told him so by touching his ribs lightly. "And she tickled me once until I was sick."
I laughed.
"Want to know how I paid her back?"
I started to shake my head, but he had already swept me up and carried me to a nearby stream. He cradled me in his arms and then held me over the flow.
"No! Emmett!" I giggled, hooking my arms around his so I wouldn't fall if he let go.
He laughed too, the boom echoing off the cliff wall nearby. He let my legs go, but pulled me close. "I was one of too many to be spoiled, but I think maybe you weren't."
I looked down. "You are right. I was the darling of my family. My parents pinned all their hopes on me and my marriage to the scum that killed me. I never kept track of my family, just him and his posse." I heard the hissing in my tone. "And they're easy to track now."
"Did it help? Ridding the world of them?" he asked. His eyes weren't concerned or blaming; they were openly curious.
"Yes. It helped me move on. It brought me to you." I stroked a hand through his curls. "I couldn't leave New York until I was certain none of them would touch a woman again."
"I wish I could have seen their faces." He grinned again, his hands sliding over my back, swaying with me, almost like dancing. "They must have been terrified. The dame they ribbed up(3) comes back." He dipped me, kissed my collar bone, and then righted me. "With a new shine on her, ready to chill(4) them all. I would have paid good bread(5) to see that."
I chuckled a little. "They were terrified all right. The King pin, Royce King to be precise, actually wet himself when I blew down his guards and came on for him."
"I don't blame him. You strike me as the vicious sort."
I froze. "I do?"
His smile never wavered. "I don't say it as a bad thing, Rosie. You get payback. Speaking of which." He pulled me tight to his bare chest. "Where's mine?"
"Pay back?" I asked, innocently again. "I wasn't under the impression I owed you anything."
He picked me up and held me to a tree, pressing himself against my skirt, pinning it between my legs. "No, you owe me nothing, but I thought we'd arranged a trade of sorts."
My first thought was fear. He held me to the tree. My second thought was laughter. He was still playing. He never stopped playing, I was certain. My third thought was for myself, for the heat his touch spurred in me, for the comfort I found in his arms. I think he saw each one pass - tension, a twitch, and then relaxing.
"I think you misunderstand me, sir. I am not some roundheel(6), spreading her legs for a stranger in the forest."
"I didn't think we were strangers any longer, Rosalie." I melted a little at the sound of my name on his tongue. "Perhaps I need to put you wise(7)." He let me go and I slid to my feet. He planted his mitts on either side of my head and put his nose to mine. "All you need to know about me is that I am what you made me. This is me, here for you. Here because of you."
"And you aren't upset by that?" I asked, afraid of the answer.
His brow creased and he backed away slightly. "Why would you think so?"
"Because you were denied the peace of death. Because you are cursed with this thirst for all of time. Because you can never rest again."
He smiled and laughed, tipping his head back. "I don't need to rest. I've run farther and faster than ever before. I spent hours tasting you, here," he brushed my lips with his thumb. "And here," he brushed a hand over my pelvis and my breath caught. "Without stopping for breath. I am at peace, babe. And the thirst. Well, that is a small price to pay for eternity with an angel like you."
I was silent. There was no answer I could give. He didn't seem to need one. He put his lips to mine and I felt the warmth spread from navel - down to my thighs and up to my breasts. It wasn't as strange now, but it was still surprising. I truly hadn't expected this to be possible for me. I lifted one foot, hooking his hip.
"Really?" he asked stroking his calloused hand from my knee to my bare foot. It sent shivers up my spine.
"I think so." I heard my voice waver with uncertainty.
He smiled, dimples deepening. He kissed my ear, leaning into me. Rather than lifting my skirt on that side, he slipped his hand under the other, where I had lifted my foot. His hardness was safely wrapped in fabric.
His fingers on the other hand, were not. I closed my eyes as he brushed me gently. I was still wet and messy from our previous encounter and his fingertips moved smoothly on my slippery skin. He put his lips beneath my ear, kissing my neck.
"Oh." It was unexpected and gentle and precious. I'd offered, and he'd declined. He'd decided to give me something else. He was showing me all the ways I could enjoy him. Ways that didn't require penetration at all it seemed. His fingers drifted but never entered. The heat was building and I was nearly shaking.
"Rosie?"
I turned my face to look at him and he pulled away from my neck. "Yes, Emmett?"
"Tell me more."
My leg slipped and my chin dipped, his hand was caught in my skirt but he pulled it away. He also dabbed at the damp patch he'd left on it.
I chuckled and grabbed his hand, shaking my head. I twined our fingers, looking at my slender fingers between his thick ones. His hand was so much bigger than mine.
"What do you want to know." It wasn't a question, it was a concession. He was going to know everything; I would never hide it from him.
"Tell me about him."
So I did. I told him how handsome he was. How his fine exterior only made the monster that much more dangerous. How his manners were all an act. Courtesy without consideration was empty. He never considered anyone but himself. I told him how his touch had been hard, forced, even before. His kisses had never been gentle like I'd seen between Vera and her husband. Royce's kisses were always stolen. At the time, I'd thought that was how they started, and they grew into something else. I learned what they grew into.
My throat was raked with tearless sobs as I told Emmett everything. He held me, stroked me, caressed me, kissed my cheeks, my nose. He murmured encouragement to me when the words failed, and I stumbled on.
"They left me. Left me lying in a pool of piss and blood and swill. I wanted to die."
"Then what happened?"
"I was cold and it was getting darker. It was already dark, but even the lights were getting dim. Then I was carried somewhere warm. I was still cold, but it was warm. Then I was burning."
"He saved you."
"He trapped me."
Emmett's face was shocked.
"He locked me on Earth for eternity. No peace, no rest, no forgiveness for my selfishness. He stole me to be a bride for his beloved son," I spat.
"Oh, Rosie." He hugged me to his chest.
"They thought I couldn't hear, that I didn't know. It was obvious. And Edward didn't want me. Why wouldn't he want me? Then the reason became clear. Because I wasn't worthy of him."
"No," he growled. He shook my shoulders roughly, locking my eyes with his red ones. "You are too good for Edward. Not the other way around. You are too strong for him, too much woman. He wouldn't know what to do with you."
I smiled. He'd stroked my ego perfectly. "You do."
"Don't tempt me now, Rosalie. I wouldn't be gentle now." His eyes were hooded and I rolled my lips together, regretting my indiscretion.
He sighed, thumping his head on the tree we were resting against. I heard the trunk crack. I rose slowly, shaking out my skirt. I felt the stickiness between my legs as I moved. I put my hands to my stomach. I hadn't vomited since the first time I tried regular food, but I thought I might now. I shuffled to the water, slumping on the creek's edge.
"Rosie?"
"Nothing," I whispered, trailing my fingers in the water.
He towered over me and watched as I washed myself.
I was splashed when he jumped in the creek. It wasn't deep, only a little over his bare feet and ankles. He squatted scooping water with his hands. I barely met his eyes before looking away again.
The water was cool on my raw skin. He poured hand after hand of water, combing over the hair, until all traces were gone.
"Thank you," I murmured.
"I don't mind. Ma taught me to clean up after myself." He grinned boyishly, pulling me to my feet.
I chuckled a little. "What else did your ma teach you?" I asked.
"How to sew buttons back on my shirts." I smiled, just imagining how many he must have broken for that lesson to come to light. "How to make a head of cabbage feed six boys. That there is nothing more precious than a good woman at your side."
I smiled, the warm tingle spreading through me, starting in the middle of my chest this time. I let go of his hands, grabbing his neck instead.
"And to never say no when one asks for a kiss."
Some 30s slang for those who may need it:
1. Close my head - to shut up
2. Blown me down - to kill
3. Ribbed up - to set up for a fall
4. Chill - to kill
5. Bread - money
6. Roundheel - easy girl, whore
7. Put you wise - inform you, fill you in.
A/N I agonized over writing this piece. I worried about not doing it justice. Please review and let me know if I did or didn't and if I didn't, what I could have done differently.