Dinner was tough, honestly. Embry and I were only just learning to be around each other as it was, and now we were under scrutiny from the others, too, which only brought the weird tension between us to the surface. And, on top of that we had to endure Quil's seemingly endless stream of questions. At least until Sam finally put an end to it after he'd asked if I were happy with the size of Emb's cock. It wasn't for either of us that Sam put an end to his prying though; I think it was more for his and Emily's sake.
Neither of us really wanted to hang around for more of Quil's interrogation, so we took off as soon as dinner was finished. Sam had already assigned Quil dish duty for running his trap so we were free to leave right after dinner.
Again we found ourselves walking the familiar path leading from Sam's place to the beach, neither of us really ready to part ways just yet.
"Do you think it will be easier now that we aren't trying to keep this quiet?" I asked hopefully.
"Maybe?" he sighed, clearly not thinking anything of the sort.
I couldn't help laughing at his defeated response; it was that or start pulling my hair out in anger all over again. And in all honesty, I was getting sick of being pissed off all the time. "Yeah, probably not."
We wound up sitting in the same spot we had less than a week ago, when I had asked him for some time to sort through everything. Neither of us said anything for a long time. We both sat quietly staring out at the water lapping against a large piece of drift wood that had washed up and been partially buried into the sand.
My mind ran over all the details and questions again. It seemed my brain had forgotten how to turn the fuck off and just relax. I still didn't know how the fuck we were supposed to go back to being just friends after everything that had already happened between us. Worse than that, I wasn't even sure if that's what I really wanted, which if Emb was right, was going to be a key determining factor on how this fucking imprint was going to play out.
The facts were that I didn't really want to be just friends with Embry. I wanted a whole fucking lot more than that. But I didn't want the lifetime commitment that went along with being more than friends. It was bad enough I was going to be tied to the Res. for the rest of my life without a hope of ever leaving; I couldn't strap myself to someone else, too. So, I was going to have to find some way of letting this connection between us go.
That was fine in theory, too. Except every time I even thought about someone else, I felt physically ill. Not even just someone else specifically. The very idea of someone that wasn't Embry made my stomach turn, and my wolf claw at the surface like he wanted to fucking kill me for even thinking it. Needless to say, I hadn't had sex since this whole thing had blown open. I was fucking horny all the time and it didn't seem to matter how often I jerked off, it just never went away; especially sitting in the sand next to him.
I wondered if he was going through the same shit; if he was managing to get by somehow. There was no way I was going to be able to bring that up and maintain the charade that this was simply two friends hanging out though.
Fuck.
I didn't even really know anything about him sexually speaking. For all I knew he was a fucking virgin. But he had said that he'd been with both guys and girls before, so I guess there must have been at least one of each for him to figure that out. Maybe?
I couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't saying anything, just sitting there staring ahead. I either needed to talk or get the fuck out of there; despite how uncomfortable sitting that close to him made me, I didn't really want to be away from him either.
"So, how many?" I asked finally, breaking the long silence. I picked at the sand to avoid looking at him. I didn't want to care about it, but I did. I had no business asking, and would probably have to answer the same question for him in return; a question I honestly didn't even know the answer to.
"How many what?" I glanced up to see his arched eyebrow punctuating his question as he looked sideways at me.
I took a deep breath before plowing ahead. "How many...people have you been with?" The saying really should be curiosity killed the wolf, not the cat, because it felt like not knowing was eating me up inside.
"Oh," he nodded. "You really want to play the numbers game?" I looked up to see if he raised his eyebrow again. Why did I find that hot? I shrugged and then nodded, not even able to pretend that I didn't need to know.
"Not as many as you," he offered with a sly grin.
"How many?" I asked again.
"Three." He was looking out at the water, and I just watched him for a minute.
Three. That was...not actually what I wanted to know, but I didn't realize it until he'd told me.
"You want the breakdown, don't you?" he asked without turning to look at me.
"Yeah, I guess I do," I rolled my eyes at myself. Did it really make a difference how many guys he'd been with before me in the long run? No. It wouldn't really impact my decision would it? "Forget it," I huffed and shook my head.
"Two girls," he stated abruptly, letting it hang in the air before continuing, "And a friend of my cousin. He fucked me, and then beat the shit out of me and warned me if I told anyone he'd kill me. Nice guy, right?" He laughed and shook his head at himself, still staring off into the ocean.
"Marcie and I went out for a while last year," he continued like he was talking about something as mundane as the score of the last Mariner's game.
"Armstrong?" I clarified, trying to keep up with him. I didn't know that he'd dated her; not that I really paid attention to high school bullshit like who was dating though.
He nodded. "Yeah. We messed around for a while, but she's so fucking boring." He burst out laughing and looked over at me with a stupid smirk on his face. I couldn't help laughing with him; I didn't know her at all but she certainly didn't seem like the most interesting person around.
"And I was just starting to see this guy in Forks before I went wolf, but nothing came of it." His voice became serious before he added, "I wasn't interested anymore." I could feel his eyes on me without even looking at him.
He'd lost interest because of the imprint.
I glanced over at him and as soon as our eyes met I felt his longing for me well up in myself; it was a powerful trip. I looked away, trying to stick to the boundaries we'd set, but fuck I wanted to touch him. I kept him talking instead.
"You said, three. There was someone after...well, me?" I asked, feeling stupid that I couldn't even say the word imprint.
He smirked sideways at me again. "Yeah," he nodded with another huffed laugh. "A few weeks ago. When all the kids from Forks came out for that end of class party?" he explained. I remembered the night; there had been a big bonfire and most of the seniors from Forks had been there as well as many of the Res. teenagers.
"I hardly even saw you that night," I admitted. I had been looking for him.
"I was there." He paused for a minute and then turned to look at me before he continued, "I was watching the girls lining up for you, and wondering why you kept shutting them down."
"Oh," was the only response I could come up with. I had gone down to the beach that night with every intention of picking up, and there had been plenty of girls looking for attention too, but none of them had been what I was wanting though. That had been right around the time I'd come to admit to myself that I wanted Embry. I went home alone.
"You left and I went off with the first girl that came my way."
"Who?" My curiosity was piqued.
"The blonde who had been after you all night," he stated flatly, like it wasn't completely messed up.
"Fuck, Emb," I scoffed; the girl was trashy even by my standards.
He shrugged. "Yeah, well, a girl like that doesn't mind if you bend her over the hood of a car and pretend she's someone else." The implication of what he'd said was hard to miss. He looked at me with his penetrating stare again and I couldn't help reaching out to him.
"Don't," he said, causing my hand to stop in mid-air just before I touched his shoulder. "If you touch me right now, I'm going to lose it," he warned. I pulled my hand back. Part of me wanted him to lose it, but I knew I wasn't really ready yet for what would happen if he let go of his tightly guarded control. I let my hand fall back to the sand.
I could feel the tension coming off him in waves, like he was fighting a losing battle with his own body. I had no idea how he'd managed to keep this from me for months if this is what he'd been going through. Maybe having it out in the open acted like a catalyst? If that were the case, it was my fault he was suffering; I'd instigated this sexual tension between us by kissing him.
"This is all because I fucking kissed you, yeah?" I said looking over at him. He didn't have to acknowledge it; I knew it was true. "Maybe you should have just let me suck you off and we wouldn't be in this mess." It was a joke, a stupid fucking flippant remark, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth I wanted his cock in it again. I licked and bit my lower lip, studying him as he watched me intently.
"You fuck me and that seals the deal, right? What happens before that?" I waited but he didn't say anything. "What if I touch you? Why does it have to be all or nothing?" I reached my hand back up to curl around his left biceps. The contact was like a drug, and I was a fucking junkie jonesin' for a hit.
"Paul, don't," he protested, his words falling short of sounding even slightly convincing. I turned in the sand to face him, leaning forward and bracing my weight on one hand in the sand next to his thigh.
"Emb, I know I'm not the only one who's so fucking horny it feels like my skin is on fire." I leaned closer still, breathing him in; my face was only a few inches from his ear. "Am I?"
He was practically vibrating with the effort he was putting into not moving; not touching me.
"Paul..." he warned again.
"Embry?" I challenged him back defiantly, raising an eyebrow at him.
I rose up onto my knees and straddled one of his thighs, not touching him anywhere except with my hand still on his arm. I ran that hand up his shoulder and around to the back of his neck. His breath was labored and he shook a little under my touch. It felt fucking amazing to give in after denying myself any sort of satisfaction for so long. He looked up to where I hovered just in front of him, his eyes black and glazed, and his whole body trembling.
"Why are we doing this to each other?" I asked watching his reaction carefully; he didn't move a muscle. "I'm not ready for everything, but that doesn't mean there can't be anything—it doesn't mean you can't touch me, does it?" I waited a beat and he didn't answer. "For fuck's sake, Emb, touch me." I grabbed his hand from the sand beside him and pulled his open palm to my chest.
It was enough.
His mouth clamped over mine in a searing kiss as he grabbed me hard around the shoulder and the hip, pulling me tight to him. I gasped and grunted as he fell back in the sand, dragging me with him and turning me on my back.
It didn't last long—a few seconds only. A few intoxicating, invigorating seconds, before he pushed me away from him by the shoulders and jumped to his feet.
"Fuck, Paul, don't do that!" he huffed, scrubbing his hands through his hair.
I was only a step behind him as he stalked down the beach. I wasn't going to be put off now that I'd had a taste of what could take the ache away. It was pretty fucking clear that we were both suffering and in my mind it didn't need to happen. Unless he could give me a legitimate reason why it had to be all or nothing, I wasn't about to give in. I clapped my hand on his shoulder and he stopped; I stepped around to stand in front of him.
"Explain to me why it's got to be like that and I'll back off," I said, taking a step toward him. I had no fucking clue how guys were supposed to touch each other; all I knew is that I needed my skin on his. I rested my hand on his side just above his low hung shorts, my little finger resting in the groove of that fucking sexy cut of his hip. Why I found it sexy was crazy, fucking Spirit Wolf, voodoo, bullshit, but that didn't change the fact that I did. I wanted to run my tongue along that little trail, and follow where it disappeared into his shorts.
"It feels good, right? So, why can't I touch you?" I took another step forward.
"Please don't," he whispered slowly, closing his eyes and tipping his head back in concentration.
"Then you're going to have to hit me or something, Emb. I'm going fucking mental here, and you're not doing much better. If you won't let me touch you, then let's go." I waited a second and he still didn't move. "Come on. Hit me!" I goaded him on and shoved him backward.
"I'm not going to fight you Paul," he sighed, turning away from me.
"Either fucking hit me or kiss me, Embry," I persisted, pushing him again from behind. I had picked plenty of fights in the past, but none of them had the raw need driving them that this one did. "You never used to have a problem beating my ass."
He whipped around and hit me hard in the gut knocking the wind out of me; it felt almost as good as kissing him a minute before had. I hit him back and it quickly escalated into a full-on scrap until we were scrambling in the sand trying to best each other. It was a fucked up rush of a situation and I couldn't help laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Emb had his hand under my jaw pushing me away from him with his elbow locked trying to get me to release the headlock I had him in. I let him go as a fit of uncontrolled laughter spilled from me. I lay back in the sand, my chest heaving as Embry crumpled down next to me, joining in on the giggle-fest.
We went from making out like the horny teenagers we are, to brawling and grappling with each other for dominance, to lying in the sand laughing so hard we had tears rolling down our faces all in a matter of minutes. We lay there in the sand catching our breath after we'd managed to stop laughing, just staring up at the night sky. Eventually, I sat up, shaking the sand out of my hair and wiped a hand over my face.
"Come here," Embry heaved a surrendering sigh, shuffling toward me on his knees. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back against his chest, settling in the sand behind me. "I'm sorry this is so hard," he whispered against the back of my neck. His lips lightly brushing against my skin sent a chill through me; it wasn't a kiss but it wasn't not a kiss either. It hinted at so much more.
I closed my eyes, clutching his forearm across my chest and melted into him. I hated how fucking good it felt to be held, yet silently prayed that he wouldn't let me go. "I don't want to touch you because I'm afraid I won't be able to stop when you ask me to," he confessed into the tiny space between us. I thought to myself if this is how it felt when he finally touched me, I don't think I would ever ask him to stop.
We sat in the sand for a long time silently taking comfort in each other.