A/N: Hello friends I have returned! Apologies for the delayed update - I have returned to work (boooo) and it has been a stress rollercoaster. Weekly updates are probably more realistic, but I will do what I can!
This update's honour roll recognises:
Riveriver: thanks for encouraging me to be my worst self (appreciate you)
Writhing: discussing the term dicknotised really helped me figure out how to end the chapter. thank you!
Dee: I bow down to you. Thank you for your reviewing service #chasingnumbers
Guest: Thank you! I too am a sucker for incorrect quotes.
I don't like the way that Emily and Kim are looking at me over their matching cups of peach tea, eyeing me as if the next words out of my mouth are critically important. Considering the only conversations I've ever had with these women have been limited to pleasantries and small talk, I'm not so sure I'm prepared for whatever comes next, particularly on the heels of the truncated chat I just had with Seth.
I focus on my teacup instead, savouring a mouthful of the tart brew. If I wasn't ideologically opposed to caffeine-free drinks, I would definitely call this recipe a winner.
"So, what do you think?" Kim asks suddenly, her wide eyes fixed on me.
"Uh…" I mutter, hesitantly taking another small sip. "It's nice. Different. Sort of summery?"
Kim giggles. "No, not the tea! I meant about what Seth told you. How are you feeling?"
My mind is blank. What did Seth tell me that was noteworthy enough for his friends - people that have presumably known him for years - to enquire after?
"I guess I appreciate his honesty. I know that putting him on the spot makes him…nervous," I say vaguely, deliberately omitting the fact that their scrutiny commands the same power.
Emily peers at me for a long moment before a look of realisation settles upon her marred face. "You two are still working things out, I assume?"
I nod, thankful for the exit route that comment provides. "Yeah, we're planning to talk more when he comes back from helping Sam."
It would be impossible to miss the pointed look that Emily gives Kim, who busies herself with stirring in a very generous lump of sugar, but since I'm pretending to be the world's most amiable houseguest, I pretend I do not see.
The front door clatters open, startling a shriek from the two women before me.
"Oh, relax," groans the stranger, clicking the door shut behind her. "I get it, I look awful, but Paul woke me up as soon as -"
Emily pushes her chair back abruptly, clapping her hands together with sudden vigour. "Rachel. Have you and Jessica already met?"
Rachel's almond eyes narrow infinitesimally as she purses her lips. "Paul has told me plenty."
I'm not sure what her cryptic words translate to in Emily's mind but, like all their other coded phrases and gestures, it clearly connotes something greater than a simple introduction.
If only Seth had informed me that this was a bring-your-own cipher event.
Emily beckons for Rachel to take a seat at the dining table, and the spare place setting on my right suddenly makes a lot more sense. Rachel plops down beside me, kicking her flip-flopped feet up onto the table.
I try not to look at her toes.
"Did you choose a dress for Friday?" Emily asks conspiratorially, her big brown eyes wide with excitement.
Kim glances across at me. "Emily thinks Jared's going to propose. It's our fifth anniversary," she explains, shrugging. "Jared works on his own time. I ended up going with the pink one."
Rachel rolls her eyes. "Who cares about the dress? It's what's underneath that matters," she comments wryly, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Rachel!" Emily exclaims, her neck flushing red. "You're terrible."
"What do you think, J?" Rachel asks, tipping her head to the side.
Her tone is lighthearted, but the calculated gleam in her eye makes me think that, like all the other conversations that take place in this house, there's more to this than what my normally perceptive self can decode.
"Five years is a long time," I say, swirling my tea. "You should do something special."
Kim nods. "I was thinking of making my Mom's cinnamon-apple pie -"
"Not that sort of special, Kimmy," Rachel interrupts, dismissing Kim with the shake of a hand. "You know what men are like. I'm sure Jess could give you some ideas."
My hand shakes as I set my china mug down, careful to move it away from the table's edge.
"And what ideas would they be?" I ask slowly, giving her the sort of sharp look that I'd ordinarily save for teenagers jumping the turnstiles.
Rachel smiles sweetly. "You know what I mean."
"Would anyone like a muffin?" Emily interjects hurriedly.
Unfortunately for Emily, her words fall on deaf ears.
"I think you're mistaken, Rachel. I have no idea what you're talking about," I say cooly, rapidly abandoning my intention to be unilaterally friendly.
"Really? Seth had plenty to say about your inventiveness. I'd love to know, are you that generous to all of your customers?"
Her words may be dripping with saccharine sweetness, but the message comes across loud and clear, painting me scarlet with the thinly veiled accusation. I can handle Paige's bitchiness in the morning, and Lauren's continual snide attacks, but this is one retort that I can't sit back and swallow down.
"Paul's welcome to come in and find out."
Emily's chair scrapes the linoleum as she stands again, abruptly excusing herself to the kitchen. Kim's eyes anxiously dart between me and Rachel, appraising the risk of further verbal warfare. Before Rachel can jump in with something equally fiery, I lean forward, drumming my long fingernails on the table top.
"Kim, you should make that pie," I say, giving her an encouraging nod. "It's thoughtful. Solid anniversary gesture."
"Do you bake? I could send you the recipe," she offers brightly, withering slightly under Rachel's glare.
"Baking's not my strong suit," I admit, shrugging my shoulders. "Taste testing on the other hand…"
Kim laughs, sliding her phone across the table for me to punch in my digits, and I happily oblige, disregarding Rachel's obvious displeasure. It strikes me how different the tone is when the men aren't around, though I'm sure these social artifices and duplicitousness aren't limited to just the women of the group. There's a sizable part of me that's intrigued to see just how deep the rabbit hole goes, even though I know that my picture of Seth is unlikely to come out unscathed.
In the absence of further commentary from Rachel, Kim launches into a long, winding story about the last time she made her famous pie for the boys and, surprisingly, I find that laughter comes easily, despite the rocky start and my mounting suspicions. I like Kim, I realise, and perhaps her friendship could be worth the trade-off of fielding Rachel's unpredictable verbal barbs.
A loud whoop startles me out of my focused state as the screen door clatters open, Embry and Quil stumbling inside in a tangle of arms and legs.
Quil stops short with one look at Rachel. "Yikes. Who died?"
"Nobody yet," she grumbles, swinging her legs off the table.
Rachel stalks out into the yard, and I'd be lying if I said my mood didn't instantly brighten in her absence.
Embry shrugs, giving us a half-wave as he lumbers into the kitchen, swiping a muffin off the counter. "Thanks, Em."
"Hell yeah!" Quil cheers, ducking to kiss the top of Emily's head. "This is why you're my favourite."
"I resent that," Sam declares, crossing the room to wrap Emily in his arms. "It's all Emily this, Emily that. No love for me?"
"Nope!" Quil chirps, easily dodging Sam's playful push. "But if you gave me Thursday off…"
Sam scoffs. "I think I can live with not being your favourite."
Jared jeers at Quil's downcast face as he lopes inside, though the smug look instantly melts away when he sets eyes on Kim. I can see why Emily expects a proposal, pronto, given the lovesick way he hangs on to every last word Kim utters. Five years is a long time to be together, especially for teenagers, and I have to fight to tamp down the jealous flare in my chest that sparks with any mention of rings or marriage or commitment.
Fuck Mike.
Seth ambles through the back door, a lazy smile spreading across his face when he spots me, still sitting at the table. He collapses into Rachel's recently vacated seat, slinging his arm around the back of my chair.
"Hi stranger," he teases, poking my cheek. "Thanks for waiting."
When he looks at me like that, all earnest and heartfelt, it's hard to remember why I was ever upset.
"'Course. Is everything okay?"
He shrugs. "False alarm. Brady says hey, by the way. He and Collin pulled the short straws, got stuck finishing up."
I lean back into his arm, relishing the all-consuming comfort his warmth brings. He feels safe, somehow, the kind of person that I could call for help at midnight, no questions asked. It's not just that he has total gentle giant energy - though that certainly helps - but that he is so incredibly attuned to every little thing around us, to the point that I'm half convinced he can read my mind.
Seth is different.
How different, though, is the question at hand.
"So," he starts, running his thumb across my knuckles. "I was thinking we could go out to the cliffs, finish our conversation from earlier."
My brain is foggy from his soft touch, cautious yet casual. It scares me how easily I've gotten used to him - how easy it is for me to need him in a way that I have never needed anybody.
That in itself is terrifying.
"Jess?" Seth prompts, and I realise I've said nothing.
"Yeah, let's head off," I murmur, shaking myself back to reality.
I need a clear mind for whatever is coming next.
He tugs me out of Emily's house with a careless goodbye called over his shoulder, leading me towards my car. I can only pray that he doesn't notice the mountains of clutter in my backseat, though I'm painfully aware that his eyesight is well above average. In a desperate bid for distraction, I toss him my keys, laughing as he fumbles to snag the cluttered keychain. He studies it for a moment, his nimble fingers deftly plucking the car key out of the mess.
"Do you really need this many keychains?" he asks teasingly, testing the weight in his hand. "I don't know how you carry this around all day."
"I like it," I say defensively, collapsing into the passenger seat. "They all mean something."
Seth turns it over in his hands as he walks around the hood, settling awkwardly into the driver's side. His knees may as well be next to his ears, with the way that he has to carefully arrange his limbs to fit into the car. It's a comical sight, but I'm more interested in the way his fingers still on one of the ugliest charms, an oversized glittery resin butterfly marred with air bubbles and dirt.
"What's this one?"
"Paige made it for me in junior year art class," I say, giggling at his obvious disdain. "I like it because it sucks. It adds to the appeal."
"And this one?" he questions, holding up a wire-wrapped chunk of gravel.
"Angela made that. It's bitumen from one of the parking lot potholes and wire from the old bar fridge we had in the break room."
Seth's eyebrows knit together as he stares at the charms, seeing them through fresh eyes. "Right. So what I'm hearing is I need to make you some kitschy thing to add to the collection."
I grin. "That'll definitely get you back in the good books."
"Even if I use Leah's hot glue gun?"
"Especially if you use it," I declare seriously, clasping my hands together with genuine excitement. "Oh, and just so you know -"
He twists the key in the ignition before I can pass on the warning, and he jerks at the sudden laboured grinding coming from the hood. Seth massages his temples for a brief moment as the screech dulls to a muted rasp, hardly audible over the crackly stereo. He slowly releases the handbrake, cautiously inching his way off of Emily's lawn.
"Sorry. Forgot to tell you about that," I apologise, giving the dashboard a solid smack.
The noise lessens.
"How long has it sounded like that?" he questions, frowning as the gears fight against the shifter.
I shrug. "Can't remember. Last summer, maybe?"
Seth curses under his breath as he turns onto the beach road. "I'll get Jake to look at it."
"No, it's okay -" I start, my mind immediately flashing to the cost.
"Consider it a favour," Seth says evenly, his mouth quirked into a small smile. "Least I can do."
Instead, I consider arguing the point, but he pulls into the gravel lot before the words can cross my lips, and my brain is promptly rerouted to the question of the day: what else could Seth possibly have to tell me? Knowing Seth, it's either something entirely inconsequential (does he secretly speed on the interstate?) or a major deal-breaking confession.
Hopefully not firing Lauren has netted me enough good karma for the former.
We make quick work of the short trail leading to the log circle, though the tone is certainly different from the last time he brought me here. Today, he waits for me to take a seat, watching me with an inscrutable expression on his face. Then, he begins to pace with quick, short steps, his hands trembling like the night of the dinner party.
"Are you…okay?" I ask hesitantly.
His eyes snap to mine. "Yes. No. I don't know," he huffs, palming the back of his neck. "I need to tell you something, but it's a secret."
"What kind of secret?"
Seth pauses. "A big one. Like, a take-it-to-your-grave one."
"Is it illegal? If I get subpoenaed -"
He lets out a startled bark of laughter. "Why would you be subpoenaed?"
I shrug. "It's always good to think ahead. Anyway, if it's that sort of secret, maybe you shouldn't tell me."
"It's not illegal," he reassures me, resuming his pacing. "It's just weird. Really, really, weird."
"In that case, fire away," I say, nodding at him encouragingly.
It's probably some fetish thing, I think, eyeing him with renewed curiosity. Domination seems to be up his alley, though he strikes me as far too gentle to really indulge in anything truly subversive. Masochism, perhaps; he did garner a real thrill from watching me flirt with Brady.
Seth swallows. "What do you remember about the stories from the bonfire?"
"Uh, lots of biting? Blood drinking?"
The realisation hits me like a bolt of lightning.
"Oh my God, is that why you're so into my neck?" I gasp, tugging the collar of my coat upwards. "Do I need to start wearing scarves?"
Seth's face flushes a brilliant shade of crimson before he turns around, his shoulders shaking rhythmically.
"Seth, sweetheart, I wasn't trying to make fun of you," I soothe, instantly feeling bad. "I was just thinking about modesty."
When he turns around, I'm surprised to see that he isn't crying - he is laughing and, somehow, that's worse.
"You have a lovely neck," he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I was trying to get you to think about the spirit warriors - you know, the guys who turn into wolves."
I nod, feeling privately relieved that his erratic pacing - and laughter - has ceased, which is surely a positive sign.
"Well, it's true."
"What's true?" I ask dumbly.
He stares at me. "Spirit warriors are real. I turn into a wolf," Seth says slowly, studying my face for any signs of comprehension. "Sam is our alpha, and we run patrols to keep watch for vampires."
My heart thuds violently in my chest as he speaks, his voice sounding increasingly alien to my ears.
Wolves.
Vampires.
Seth.
"Well?" he asks, agitation colouring his tone.
I regret giving him my car keys.
"I think that we could discuss this back at Emily's house," I say warily, sizing him up as if I have even the faintest chance of out-running him.
His expression darkens. "You don't believe me."
Slowly, I raise my hands in surrender, taking mindful breaths to steady my dizzying pulse. "I believe that you need help. Western State has some really good doctors -"
Seth lets out a low growl, taking a lurching step backwards. The tremors are back, and they rock every inch of his body until he is a near-blur. I watch with horror as he tugs at his shorts, tearing them off his body so violently that the metal button whizzes into the scrub like shrapnel.
I never considered that I would feel abject terror at seeing Seth Clearwater naked, but it turns out there's a first for everything.
He takes deep lungfuls of air, staring at me with a gaze so intense it makes my skin crawl. "Don't look away," he orders, falling forward towards the dirt.
Before his chest can hit the floor, his skin seems to tear, fur exploding from every millimetre of his body. His flesh bends and twists, his limbs lengthening until there is not a man before me, but a wolf far larger than I have ever seen, enormous and predatory in the place that Seth had stood.
"Oh my God," I whisper faintly, raking my eyes over every last inch of him.
The wolf - Seth, I remind myself, the wolf is Seth - sinks until he is lying on his belly, his snout pressed against the dirt. It's impossible - people don't just turn into woodland creatures, but his shorts lie discarded on the ground, and his dark eyes blink knowingly at me. Even as a wolf, he is gangly, almost disproportionate with the mile-long legs that he has tucked beneath his prone body.
"Seth," I breathe, and the wolf whines in response.
Maybe I need a trip to Western State.
"I need a minute," I mutter, lowering my head between my knees so the rushing blood can pool back in my head.
Moments later, I feel a gentle hand - a demonstrably human hand - rubbing my back, familiar and soothing in its small circles. Seth presses a litany of kisses to my hair, my neck, my shoulder, murmuring a mixture of apologies and reassurances that swirl together in my overwhelmed brain. We sit there for what feels like an eternity, camped out on the logs until the cool air turns my skin to gooseflesh.
"Is that the last secret?" I ask, not yet daring to look at him.
"There's one more. As soon as you're ready, you let me know, and I'll tell you," he promises, hugging me to his side. "Also, just for the record, I don't have a neck fetish. You just smell nice."
His muffled words pique my interest, and when I finally look up, his cheeks are once again flushed pink. Embarrassment looks dizzyingly good on him.
"Are you going to eat me?" I wonder aloud, only half-joking.
"Already have," he comments with a smug smirk, throwing his head back with laughter when I scowl.
"You," I say pointedly, jabbing him in the chest, "are terrible."
Seth cups my jaw in his hand, gently tilting my face up towards his. "Hypothetically, if I kissed you right now, would that make things better, or worse?"
I hum in pretend thought. "Only one way to find out."
He presses his lips to mine softly, settling his splayed fingers over the curve of my neck. His fingertips press gently into my skin until my pulse hammers hot under his possessive touch, my blood singing for even more of his affections. Seth pulls away far too soon, leaving me breathless and dazed.
"How about now?" Seth asks huskily, a smirk teasing at his lips. "Am I forgiven?"
"You will be if we skip dinner and go to my place," I answer, loving the way his cheeks flush pink at the implication.
His innocence is downright adorable.
"Well, I'm no stranger to atonement," he says lightly, pulling me to my feet. "C'mon. I'll drive."
With his bizarre secret revealed, Seth is noticeably cheerier, enthusiastically retelling their sudden afternoon adventure - nomadic vampire hunting, supposedly - with no detail spared. His dark eyes are bright with excitement as he gives me the play-by-play, his train of thought frequently redirecting as he fills me in on the more eccentric aspects of their condition. He's considerate enough to avoid talking about vampires in detail - the mere thought of him in danger makes me seriously queasy - but the finer points of his abilities are equally disconcerting.
"Mind reading," I repeat incredulously, studying his expression for any hint of joviality.
"Yeah," he says with a shrug, entirely nonplussed. "You get used to it. It's actually kind of quiet when it's only you in your head."
"So that's how she knew," I mutter to myself, channelling my mental energy towards cursing Rachel and her total lack of discretion.
Seth's head whips around to peer at me. "Who knew what?"
"Jesus!" I yelp, clutching the car door. "Eyes on the road!"
He laughs good-naturedly. "My supernatural reflexes have never failed me. What were you saying?"
I can't look at him while I recount the peculiar tea party, feeling especially foolish when I repeat the comment I made about Paul. I'm expecting him to be put-off or even angry about my rudeness, but he grins even more broadly, squeezing my hand affectionately.
"I thought Rachel met her match when she got with Paul, but that takes the cake. I can't wait to hear it from him," he snickers. "You aren't upset, are you?"
"Did you tell your friends I was easy?"
"What? Jess, no," he says firmly, moving his hand to rest on the curve of my knee. "After the first time at the rink, I lost my cool and ended up phasing - uh, turning into a wolf - in the woods. Collin and Brady got an accidental glimpse, but I promise you it wasn't on purpose, hell - take my phone and call Brady. He'll tell you."
Seth's eyes rapidly flick between me and the road as he edges his cell out of his shorts pocket, handing it to me without hesitation. It sits heavily in my palm for a moment, but I drop it easily into the centre console.
"I believe you," I say, leaning into his touch.
He visibly relaxes, his tense expression practically evaporating with the reassurance. "Thank God. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"Big words," I tease, playfully jabbing at his bare ribs.
I force myself to stop talking before I divulge anything of the sentimental variety. What I have with Seth is too good to ruin, and even though I know it's only a matter of time, I can't deny how desperately I want our relationship to last. I'm still turning the realisation over in my mind when he pulls into my driveway, the sun dipping low onto the horizon.
Seth, being the infuriatingly perfect gentleman that he is, walks me all the way to my door without anything more familiar than his palm lightly pressed to the small of my back. He pauses politely on the stoop, his expression betraying nothing in the way of unfettered desire. In times like these, I'm thankful he isn't a mind reader - regardless of how intuitive he seems to be, I still manage to have some secrets.
I've been straddling the fence about getting serious with him, given the fact that he is (unfortunately) younger than me, but I can't find it in myself to resist any longer. I almost think he's more mature than I am, considering I'm twenty-two and still agonising over how to act around boys when said boy is busy being the supernatural equivalent of a child soldier.
Seth is bound to realise he can do better at some point, so I may as well enjoy it while it lasts.
"Is this the part where I kiss you goodnight?" he asks teasingly, tucking an errant curl behind my ear.
Clearly, more shameless action will need to be taken, given his newfound civility.
"We-e-ll," I say, dragging the word out as if I am coming to a sudden realisation, "I was hoping this was the part where you came inside."
I let my voice trail off while I fiddle with the lock, giving him time to find his game. "Pun intended, of course," I add.
He grins widely, enthusiastically following me into the dark house. "Are you sure? We can wait if you want," he says, kicking off his shoes in the entryway. "Whatever you want."
I peel off my coat, then my layers underneath, letting the clothes puddle in a trail down the hallway. "I think you know what I want," I flirt, glancing at him over my shoulder.
Seth darts forward, effortlessly throwing me over his shoulder in one easy swoop. His broad hand settles on the inside of my thigh, his fingers teasingly pressing against the edges of my underwear as he holds me steady.
"Don't be a tease," I whine, squirming as he trails his index finger lightly over my clothed centre.
He only laughs as he strides into my bedroom, kicking the door shut with a definitive click. "Tell me you don't love it," he taunts, tossing me onto my bed.
"What was that? You want me to leave my bra on?" I say with a wicked smile, toying with the thin strap.
It's immensely thrilling, the way his eyes are fixed on my chest as if it holds all the secrets of the universe. Being with Seth has grown into something more than just sex - it's become increasingly about the control that he relinquishes, the way that he's begun to let his guard down without reservation. Every careful touch, each reverent look that he enthusiastically bestows upon me gives me a heady sense of power that I've never felt with anyone else. With him, the physicality is something greater than a simple give and take, more than a basic exercise in trust, and that's more powerful than the simple act of sex could ever be.
He trails his fingertips across my hips, skimming his way up to my ribs, over the pale skin beneath my breasts. His dark eyes flicker upwards as he lowers his mouth to my collarbone, alternating between drawn-out kisses and possessive nips that I'm sure will bruise tomorrow.
I can hardly wait.
Seth works his way lower, only pausing his ministrations to nimbly unhook my bra, discarding it somewhere over the edge of the bed. My heart flutters in my chest as his lips travel south, sucking a dark bruise onto the top of my breast. He sucks on the tender flesh until I let out a small squeak, and he relinquishes it with a pop, curiously watching the blood pool under the pale patch of flesh.
"I like that," he says absently, tracing its outline with his fingernail. "It makes me want to give you more."
"Then do it," I murmur, carding my fingers through his silky hair. "Give me something good to look at tomorrow."
His plush lips curve into a mischievous smile as he dips his head again, tracing a series of concentric circles around my nipple so agonisingly slowly that I could cry from frustration.
"Don't try and rush me, Stanley," he warns, nipping my skin. "I waited a whole three days for this. I'm taking my time."
"You can," I murmur nonchalantly, waiting until he's distracted with giving me a dark trail of hickeys to dip my hand lower, stoking the fire that burns hot in my belly.
It takes him a moment to catch on - probably via his stupidly frustrating ability to hear my heartbeat - but, when he does, it is immensely satisfying; Seth's hand shoots out to capture both of my wrists, pinning them above my head with ridiculous ease.
"Do you really want that, sweetheart? Want me to sit back and watch?" he asks innocently, releasing my hands.
Seth pulls away before I can argue, sitting back on his haunches. His eyes gleam with a wicked edge; it's the sort of look that tells me that I'm definitely in for trouble - perhaps even more than the last time I got him riled up, if I am lucky.
I keep my gaze fixed on his as I teasingly trail my hand down my stomach, slipping my fingertips under the soft lace of my panties. Seth flushes a delicious shade of pink as he watches my fingers glide against my sex, tracing light circles beneath the fabric. He sucks on his bottom lip as he studies how I tease myself, the way I touch the parts of myself that he's very quickly becoming acquainted with.
"Take them off," he murmurs, transfixed.
I raise my eyebrow, deliberately holding his gaze as I slip a finger inside myself. "What was that, Seth?"
He lets out a strangled whine, shifting restlessly on his haunches. "Please take them off. I need to see you."
"That's better," I murmur, tugging my panties down my legs.
Normally I would feel uncomfortable, having someone stare so openly at my naked body, but it's different with Seth. He stares at me like I'm something precious he's been missing, something he just has to have; his wild eyes do something unspeakable to my senses.
Seth shuffles down the bed until he's kneeling at the end of the mattress, tugging until my thighs hook over his shoulders, my calves resting languidly on his back. It takes him an eternity to lower that sinful mouth to my skin, kissing his way up to the apex of my thighs. I reach down to thread my fingers through his silky hair, fully intent on drawing him exactly where I want him to be, but he pulls back abruptly with a mischievous look.
"I thought I said I was taking my time," he whispers, blowing hot breath across my exposed flesh. "I've been thinking of this all week. Let me do this right."
His nose bumps against my clit as he licks a long, lazy stroke across my wetness, teasing at my entrance with a sinfully thick finger. It's equal parts pleasure and torture, the way that he teeters on the edge of making me squirm, giving me just enough pressure for my heart to thump hard in my chest. As soon as he hears my breathing quicken, he eases off, laughing breathlessly as I buck my hips against him.
"Almost seems like you want me, Jess," he teases, sucking lightly on my clit. "Did you need something?"
"Yeah, I need you to finish the fucking job," I whine, gasping as he slides two fingers inside me, pressing deeper than I can reach myself.
"Better?" Seth whispers against me, flicking the flat of his tongue against me until I can hardly think straight.
He pumps his fingers harder, waiting until I'm poised right on the edge to bite down on my thigh, sending an eruption of fiery heat coursing through my veins as I writhe against his mouth. Seth works his fingers inside me until my body finally stills, spent after a single - albeit life changing - orgasm.
"Fuck," I groan, dragging a hand over my face. "That was insane."
When I open my eyes, focusing on his face in the dark room, he is staring at the welt on my thigh, tracing the angry crescent moon with his fingertip.
"I-I didn't mean to -" he starts, the words dying off in his throat.
"I knew you were a biter," I tease, tugging his gorgeous face closer. "Now, do I have to bite you, or can we get back to business?"
Seth's eyes don't leave my thigh, so I make the decision for him, tugging impatiently at his shorts. Thankfully, he gets the message, dropping them to the floor.
I let out a low whistle. "Commando. Nice."
He shrugs. "Makes phasing easy."
"Makes this easy, too," I murmur, leaning forward to wrap my hand around his dick.
The moment my hand touches him, he lets out a long groan, tipping his head back. I like watching him squirm - God knows he has that effect on me, but he hardly lets me please him the way I'd like to. I shuffle towards the edge of the bed, eager to wrap my mouth around him, but he pins me against the mattress with a firm press against my hip.
"I won't last if you do that," he mutters, sliding his cock impatiently against me. "Another time?"
I want to press the point, but it's impossible to keep my thoughts straight when he's teasing me, dragging his tip along the growing wetness between my thighs. I can hardly form a coherent sentence, and he hasn't even fucked me yet.
"Is this what you want?" he breathes against my ear, grinding against my clit.
A pathetic whine escapes my lips. "Please."
"Tell me what I want to hear," Seth murmurs, nibbling my earlobe.
"I need you."
"Not it," he mutters, lining himself up with my entrance. "Try again."
My eyes roll back as he bites the column of my throat, harder than the last few nips. He is everything - I need everything he can give me, more than I've needed anything else in my life - and maybe that's what coaxes the words out against my better judgement.
"I love you," tumbles from my lips, quicker than I can hold it in.
Seth makes a strangled noise in his throat, sinking deep into me before I can finish my sentence. He curses under his breath when he bottoms out, thrusting into me in short, sharp strokes that knock the breath out of my lungs. My legs curl around his waist as he leans further over me, trapping my face between his thick forearms. Our foreheads press together as he ruts into me, scratching an itch that only he can reach. My eyelids flutter shut, but he presses a wet kiss against my mouth, his tongue working over mine.
"Look at me," he demands, perspiration beading on his forehead. "I need to see you."
It takes conscious effort to keep my gaze on him, half-lidded and dazed from the overwhelming sensation. His body presses wholly against mine, entirely joined from head to toe, and when his hand snakes between our bodies to circle around my clit, I fall apart, lost to the avalanche of feeling, the physical pleasure melded with the emotional. His name slips from my lips with a chorus of slurred curses and, after a few staccato thrusts, he follows me to the edge, painting my stomach with his spend.
He keeps his forehead against mine for a long moment, his eyes closed, his breath heavy. Then, he cups my face between his palms, capturing my lips in an impossibly gentle kiss.
His lips are still against mine when he speaks, almost inaudible. "I love you. So much. Too much."
And then he peels his body from mine, shuffling around in the darkness to find something to clean up with, and the moment should feel broken.
Interrupted.
Instead, I feel a peculiarly easy sort of peace, as if I haven't just confessed my love to a man whom I have only recently met.
I guess stranger things have happened.
A/N: Reviews off-set the moral dilemma of writing explicit shit on the internet. Either that or ya girl will have to start attending confession (possible, but not likely).
jess: God, give me patience.
rachel: I think you mean 'give me strength'.
jess: If God gave me strength, you'd be dead.
rachel: *Screams*
jess: *Screams louder to assert dominance*
emily: Should we do something?!
kim, observing: No, I want to see who wins this.