A/N: As someone who wants to update but cannot, I know what it's like to struggle with irregularity. That's why this pride month I'm partnering with Jessica's period
This update is sponsored by:
Riveriver, who has been awarded an Honorary Doctorate in Abnormal Psychology
Writhing, who always brings her A+ critique game to the party
Rocklesson86: For once in my life, I am resisting from writing an Evil Emily. Please trust that you have arrived in the Emily bashing corner of the internet. Thanks for the review!
Lalaland972: You deserve a medal (and/or a stiff drink) for your commitment to reviewing. I laughed, and then I stopped to realise how genuinely nice it is to read someone's running response to a fic. I am so glad you've enjoyed it so far - thanks for giving the story a go!
Blue and Gold: If you're ever in Australia, I will treat you to the nation's finest pint. Thanks for the many detailed reviews (I actually laughed at loud, especially at the good for them). Idiots in love is the best trope and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL.
Also folks, please accept this public reading warning. This chapter contains slutty problem solving methods. You have been advised.
Seth
She doesn't say a whole lot, but the tear tracks streaking down her cheeks send a pretty clear message (and that's without taking into consideration the ashen shadows under her eyes, which, for someone who insists that concealer is a fundamental human right, is a concerning sight). Her fingers fist into the fabric of my shirt like a lifeline, her face pressed into the cotton as if I'm going to up and vanish if she even looks away.
As if I ever could.
I'm hurt, and confused, and more than a little terrified that she's going to walk right on out of my life again, but that doesn't change the fact that I'd do it all over again for a chance at happiness with her.
"C'mon," I say finally, tugging her over to one of the booths. "We gotta talk."
She hums softly, tucking her legs underneath her as she sits. I've never seen her like this - small, hunched over, curled like she's trying to disappear. She can hardly meet my eyes over the table, but I can see the tears glistening on her lashes.
"Lemme get you some ice cream," I say, half offer, half plea. "I'm thinking…mint choc-chip?"
Her head snaps up, her blue eyes wide and glimmering with a flash of something. "How did you know?"
"Call it a sixth sense," I tease, kissing the top of her head, only narrowly resisting the urge to bury my face in her hair and soak up her scent. "I'll be right back."
Leah and Tristan have vanished from the kitchen - a small mercy, considering Leah is bound to have heard the worst from Jess (details the rest of the pack will soon know, irrespective of whether she attempts to contain her thoughts). I try not to think too hard about it as I scoop two heaping bowls of ice cream, adding a couple of shakes of rainbow sprinkles on top for good measure. It only takes me a couple of minutes, but I still find myself surprised that she's exactly where I left her at the booth, save for her head resting on the vinyl.
I don't have the heart to tell her that nobody properly cleans the tables.
Jess silently takes the spoon and bowl from my outstretched hand, solemnly stirring the dessert until it more closely resembles mush. I pick at mine with a similar sense of bleakness, wishing that the words to talk us through this crisis came as easily as any other conversation.
How am I supposed to ask her the questions that have been echoing in my mind for days, plaguing me in my sleep, if the answers will only lead to more pain?
Also, where do I even start?
The metal clink of her spoon resting inside the bowl shakes me from thought. Slowly, moving as though frightened, she extends her arm across the table, her fist closed around something small. She presses the item into my hand, shrinking back into the chair the moment she lets go.
Her bloodshot eyes are finally focused on me, alight with an expression that makes my stomach turn, and it takes all of my strength to even look at the offending item.
"Is that -"
"It's negative," she whispers, coiling her arms around herself. "But it could have been positive so easily. We were so stupid, Seth," Jess sobs.
Negative.
Negative, negative, negative.
"I know," I say, feeling the weight of the knowledge crushing me. "But it's negative. We'll be -"
"I almost ruined your life! You're eighteen," she hiccups, slumping further into the booth. "It could have been positive."
She presses the heels of her hands against her already bruised eyes, though she doesn't fight me when I gently wrap my fingers around her wrists, pulling them free.
"You could never ruin my life. I promise you," I soothe, stroking her pallid skin. "We both did something stupid. So, technically, we both suck."
Jess laughs humourlessly. "You're telling me that being a dad wouldn't ruin your life?"
"Well, my mom would be mad, but we'd work it out, whatever we chose. Brady would definitely get a kick out of being the fun uncle, but I'd rather we kept him waiting a while longer. I don't need any grey hairs yet."
She smiles wryly, leaning her face into the press of my palm. "I thought you were going to be mad at me."
"Never," I promise, linking my pinky finger with hers. "We've got stuff to talk about, sure, but we'll fix it. It's what we do."
"What did I do to get so lucky?" Jess comments, swiping a mouthful of my thoroughly melted ice cream.
It's an ironic comment, but it's a pertinent one; it's something that she needs to know sooner rather than later before things can get even messier - if such a thing is even possible.
She peers at me, her eyes narrowing as she swallows the dessert. "This is the last big thing, isn't it?"
I nod. "It's kind of important."
"Like a need to know right this second kind of important?"
"Yeah," I say, stroking my thumb across her cheek. "It's only a little bit weirder than the wolf thing."
"Colour me relieved," Jess deadpans, cracking a small smile. "Lay it on me."
Please, let her be cool about this, I silently beg to whoever may be listening, crossing the fingers of my free hand under the table. Make her hear me out.
"One of the legends from the bonfire was about imprinting - the third wife. Do you remember it?" I ask hopefully.
She wrinkles her nose. "Kind of. By which, I mean not really. To be honest, it's been a while."
"The short version is that we - as in the pack - sometimes imprint. It doesn't seem to happen to everyone, but it's not an exact science. Before we all started phasing, the histories said it was rare, which definitely isn't true. Either way, we don't really know who, or when, or why."
Jess nods. "Luck of the draw."
"Right. It happens when you first see that person - you look at them, and it's like your entire world changes," I say, trying to put words to an indescribable feeling. "It takes your idea of how you thought your life would go and scrambles it. Suddenly things are different - good different, like you're going from black and white to full colour, except that you never knew colour was a thing and now you're getting your entire world rocked."
She frowns. "I don't get it."
I close my eyes, trying to recall every little detail of the night that everything changed. "When you see them, you know they're it. Some of the guys say it's like finding a new centre of gravity, or seeing the sun for the first time. You know that you need this person in your life - as a friend, a lover, whatever they need you to be. Nobody's ever been enemies, but if Leah imprinted, I think she'd be the first."
Jess laughs, her eyes crinkling at the sides. "That's cute. I hope Leah finds her own personal nemesis."
She looks at me with those big innocent baby blues and it's clear that she's not really getting the whole life-changing movement of the earth situation.
"Jessica Stanley," I say, taking both of her hands in mock seriousness. "What's your middle name?"
"Louise," she supplies.
"Jessica Louise Stanley," I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I knew from the second I saw you in your goalie gear that you were my person."
"You're saying you imprinted on me," she says slowly, testing the word on her lips.
I nod.
"Like, you saw me in hockey pads and thought I want that one."
"I would never settle for second best," I tease, squeezing her hand. "You're taking it like a champ, you know. Emily freaked out when Sam told her."
Her expression sours at the very mention of his name. "So he forgot about Leah just like that? One look, and then he was done?"
Fuck.
"Not exactly," I say, searching for words that won't cause a minor pack scandal. "It's a push in the right direction."
"How does the saying go? You can lead a wolf to water," she starts, breaking off in a laugh. "Seriously, though, who else - Kim and Jared, Rachel and Paul?"
"So far. It took me four years to find you - who knows what will happen for the others, if there will even be more imprints…if anyone even wants that," I say, thinking about the absolute number imprinting has done on my life.
Jess leans back against the seat, gnawing on her lip. She's clearly thinking hard, if the serious set of her mouth is anything to go by, but she's yet to flee, which I'm taking as a positive.
And then her perfect pink lips twist into a deep scowl, and her eyes narrow, and I know, without a doubt, I am absolutely and positively fucked with a capital F.
"So you're telling me," she starts, in a tone that screams danger, "that you've watched me spiral about your age and my history and the morality of having sex with you for weeks when you've had some stupid freaky premonition that we're going to be together forever?"
"I wouldn't call it a premonition - "
"Weeks, Seth! Weeks!" she growls, and it takes all of my willpower not to see how far down the pink flush of her neck goes. "Do you have any idea how stressful things have been for me?"
It doesn't take a genius to recognise that my immediate safety - and her sanity - rests on my response.
"I don't," I say slowly, carefully, watching for the tell-tale twitch of her left eye. "Do you want to yell at me? I think it could be therapeutic."
Jess looks at me like I have three heads, but she doesn't immediately shoot the idea down. Instead, she slides out of the booth, stomping over to the swing doors and into the kitchen. Part of me feels that I should follow her, try and talk her down from the cliff, but there's a sensible voice in my brain that tells me to stay put.
And, sure enough, she's back in a matter of minutes, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Well?" I ask.
"Leah and Tristan are going for a joyride in my car. They'll be back later," she says, her blue eyes betraying no secrets.
"No witnesses?" I tease, feeling more than a little satisfied with the almost invisible quirk of her eyebrow. "What are you planning, Stanley?"
"We have unfinished business," Jess says quietly, stalking towards me until she can rest her palms on the table, staring me down with the best fierce look she can muster. "And we're either going to fight it out, fuck it out, or both."
"Is that right?" I retort, tilting my head until our eyes meet. "You're mad enough that you had to clear out the whole building. Why is that?"
She pauses for a moment, her blue eyes wide, before shaking her head a little. She watches me as I stand, her eyes tracking me with uncharacteristic shyness.
Jess says nothing when I step closer, crowding her body against the table, pressing against her hips until she acquiesces, sliding her ass onto the table. My legs bracket easily around hers, my hands resting on either side of her body.
"Tell me," I say softly. "I want you to tell me every single thing that's on your mind. I want to hear every single reason you're upset with me."
She takes a deep breath, lifting her chin to stare at the ceiling. I can hear her heartbeat, thumping hard in her chest, and after a few beats, she swallows.
Then, she talks.
"There's things I needed you to say, Seth. I need to hear the important things from you, but I want you to want to tell me," she huffs, her pink lips setting into a far too attractive pout. "I want to be the first to know."
My hand cards through her touseled hair, tucking a curl behind her ear, brushing a second errant lock from her forehead. Her breath catches in her throat, exactly the way it does when I press my lips against her neck, and it's enough to have me threading my fingers deeper in her cloud of windswept hair, chipping away at the tension that clings to her.
"What else?" I mutter, balling her hair in my fist. "Tell me."
"I don't want to hear your name coming out of Lauren's mouth. It's not - Seth, quit it," she whines, squirming as my mouth ghosts over the curve of her neck. "I can't focus with you doing that."
"Yes, you can," I murmur, pressing a series of open-mouthed kisses along her bare flesh, taking my time to work her flushed skin between my teeth. "What's next?"
"You should have told me," she says breathlessly, leaning into my touch, "that you were eighteen, and a virgin, and then I could have done the right thing."
Her heartbeat flutters when I suck hard on the hollow beneath her collarbone, the blood blooming purple under her fragile skin. Her skin begs to be decorated with kisses and bruises and marks, proof of an attraction so severe that it cannot be easily forgotten, cannot be cast aside.
"Actually, that beat out all of my fantasies. In fact," I breathe against her throat, my lips ghosting over her goose-pimpled skin, "that was one of the best days of my life. But you're right. I'm sorry. I look at you, and it's like every rational thought leaves my brain, and I make really, really bad decisions."
Jess laughs, curling her fingers into my hair. "Don't think you're off the hook just because I laughed. For the record, I'm still mad."
"Of course," I murmur, trailing my hands over the curves beneath her sweater. "You look better in my clothes than I do, by the way. It's kind of rude."
"When something happens, you're the first person I want to tell. You're the first face I want to see in the morning, the voice I want to hear on the phone for no reason other than just because, the person that I want to know better than I know myself. When I told you I loved you, Seth, that's what I was trying to tell you," she says, rushing the words before I can interject. "You are important to me, so important to me that it terrifies me because when you walk away from me, I will fall apart. You are going to ruin me, and I can't even be angry because you're the best damned thing that has ever happened to me."
"Listen to me," I whisper, breathing the words across her parted lips. "I don't say things I don't mean. When I said I loved you, I meant it. When I said I would come back, I meant it. I'm in this for the long haul, Stanley, and I can't promise you easy, but I can promise you me."
"You'll get tired of me," she says, her blue eyes glinting. "You'll meet someone new and she'll be prettier, or smarter, or cooler about the wolf thing - "
She truly can't see what she is to me - how much power she has by virtue of simply breathing, how tight a hold she has around my heart. Her doubt stands to ruin the both of us, and I'll be damned if she ever turns her back on me again.
Mutually assured destruction, I think; the very idea of losing her has my wolf thrashing in my chest, desperate to destroy the unseen obstacle keeping us from her.
"You're not understanding me," I say instead. "I don't see anyone else the way I see you, not like I used to. Newton must've been blind, or stupid, or both, because there's no way in hell I could ever let you go."
"Forgive me if that's hard to believe," Jess says, her voice cracking.
"Then let me prove it to you," I plead, tightening my hold on her hips. "We've fought it out. Let me show you how much you mean to me."
"Okay," she whispers, curling her fingers around the back of my neck. "Okay."
It's a matter of inches, the distance between our mouths, one which I eagerly close to slot my lips over hers, wet and messy and wanting. Our last kiss was a goodbye, chaste and brief and entirely forgettable; this is something completely different. She pulls roughly at the hair on the nape of my neck, coaxing my mouth open and tangling her tongue with mine until my head spins. My skin tingles from where her cool fingertips press against my skin, but the whimpers that escape her pretty mouth heat my skin faster than phasing ever could.
I keep one hand coiled around her hips as my other ventures lower, slipping under her waistband with practised familiarity. A single stroke of my finger and her thighs part further, welcoming me home. I can't tell whether it's my pulse thumping or hers; I'm hardly aware of anything beyond her breathy moans in my ear, whispered pleas for more, more, more.
She sighs when my knuckles brush across the thin cotton of her underwear, my fingertips trailing over the soaked fabric, savouring the chase. I have a lifetime to give her whatever she wants; I may as well enjoy the journey.
"I see how it is," I murmur, brushing my lips over the shell of her ear. "You like riling me up. You want me on my knees, begging for forgiveness."
She makes an indignant noise in her throat, canting her hips forward to press against my fingers, chasing the friction that I'm withholding. I can smell her arousal just as strongly as if I were to bury my face in her pussy, the musky scent making my head spin.
The tiniest sigh escapes her parted lips when I tug her panties to the side, tentatively dipping my fingers into her wetness. She holds onto the back of my neck like a lifeline as I trace lazy figure-eights over her clit, easing off whenever her breath catches and heartbeat stutters. It's torture, plain and simple, getting her so tightly strung, but the possessive streak in me begs for her to be taken apart, incoherent with pleasure from my fingers alone.
"Please," she breathes, as if reading my mind. "I want you."
"Like this?" I ask, sliding a single digit inside her, coaxing a moan from her throat with the languid strokes.
"I don't want to wait," she whines, her voice desperate. "Don't tease me."
She hisses as I add a second finger, pressing the heel of my palm to her clit with each movement. I can feel her gripping me whenever I try and pull away, her hips rising to meet my hand stroke for stroke.
"Look at me," I demand, pushing my fingers faster when she obliges. "You're the only woman I want like this. Only you."
The pink flush of her cheeks is beyond delectable; I have half a mind to tug her pants down and relieve the insane pressure in my shorts, but I have to make my point. I pump my fingers faster, curling my fingertips when she begins to squirm under my hold, pressing harder when her breath bubbles out in strangled moans.
"That's it," I breathe, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You take me so well."
"I want - " she starts, breathing heavily against my neck. "Pants. Less pants."
It takes a little shuffling, a little tugging, but soon her legs are bare, all soft skin and pale flesh, totally pliant under my fingertips. The span of my palm covers the swell of her hips, the curve of her thigh -
My eyes land on two matching crescent moons, each individual dent still visible amidst the faint purple flush that adorns the apex of her, just as vivid as when I first bit her.
"Is that…does it hurt?" I ask, my fingers still moving against her.
She shakes her head. "It feels fine. Good. It just hasn't gone away, that's all."
"May I?"
The moment her head tips in assent, I lower myself to my knees, bringing the mark closer. Jess watches me, her gaze rich with lust, the need rolling from her in waves. There's something about the welt that lights a fire in me - perhaps the possessiveness, perhaps the novelty, but it only takes a little urging from her hand to press my mouth to the bite, laving my tongue over the wound.
She clenches around my fingers when I suck the bruised skin into my mouth, grazing my teeth lightly along the ridge. Her breathing comes in short pants, a mixture of curses and half-formed pleas, unbidden demands that are quickly quelled with the movement of my tongue, the crook of my fingers as she writhes above me.
"Seth," she whimpers, her fingers all but ripping my hair free. "Seth."
A single nip on her thigh has her falling apart under my fingers, her eyelids fluttering spasmodically as she rides out her high. Only when her breathing evens and the thrumming in her veins slows to a dull roar do I withdraw my fingers from her, sucking them clean as she watches.
"Kiss me," she says quietly, tugging her pants back over the mark.
Fuck it. I could never say no to her.
My mouth is gentle against hers, a slow slide of lips and tongue and hands that know exactly where to be. I kiss her until her body presses into mine, until her small hands cup my face and the tension leeches from her frame.
I rest my forehead against hers, searching in those deep blue eyes for the confirmation I need.
"Only you," I breathe, relaxing as her mouth curves into that unforgettable smile. "It'll only ever be you."
"Good," she murmurs, craning her neck to press her lips against mine once more and, like magic, the world begins to feel just that little bit brighter.
A/N: Sorry about the delayed update! I had an eventful depressive episode (in which I jeopardised my safety) followed by a chaotic manic episode (in which I jeopardised everyone else's sanity). Anyway, I am suitably medicated and somewhat on track to finish this in 2-3ish chapters.
Without further ado, here's this update's incorrect quote:
Sue: Leah, tell Seth about the birds and the bees.
Seth: They're disappearing at an alarming rate.
I cannot promise that reviews will make me update faster but they sure will give me the motivation to stay out of the psych ward