Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.
A/N: Remember peeps, this story is rated M for several reasons. Language is one of them. Sexual situations are another. If you shouldn't be reading this... don't get caught.
11 – MUCH MORE IMPRESSIONABLE - 11
I would think that after the confrontation that I had with Leah, I'd think myself able to handle anything. That I'd never be afraid again. But I am wrong.
Well, not exactly. I'm not so much afraid as I am nervous. But I am really, very nervous. I want my mom and dad and Matthew to like Sam so very much, and if they don't… I don't quite know what I'll do, but I know I'll feel terrible, almost as if they are rejecting a part of me. Which sounds crazy, but it's true.
Technically, they're supposed to be coming to decide if I can move in with Sam, but since I've already jumped the gun, I guess it's more of a decision as to whether I will be able to continue living with Sam. Though, with the school year looming and the start of classes so close, it's way too late to get housing anywhere near the campus for this semester. So unless Aunt Sue and Leah have a change of heart, I'm stuck here.
Even this rationalization, though, isn't enough to calm me down. If my parents dislike him, I have no doubts that they will find somewhere for me to stay, no matter what they have to do to obtain suitable housing.
I'm sitting on the couch, more tense than I've ever been, staring at the door. I check my phone again for the time. Two minutes since the last time I checked.
"Emily," I jump as Sam breathes my name softly into my ear. I swirl around to face him. He's standing behind the couch with an amused face expression. I shake my head and fight the urge to glare. I turn back around, trying to relax.
His warm hands descend upon my almost-bare shoulders. I'm wearing a tank top over a sports bra, so without the barrier of clothing, his hands are like twin heating pads. My surprised gasp quickly becomes a quiet moan of pleasure as he kneads my shoulders, expertly.
"Please, try to calm down," he whispers. "It's going to be okay."
I take a deep breath feeling guilty. He's the one who's going to be on trial here. I should be trying to convince him that it's going to be oaky, not the other way around. As it is, I'm probably not giving him any confidence that they'll like him by sitting here looking petrified out of my mind.
"I know," I finally say, a forced attempt at cheeriness. He sees right through it and adds more pressure to my massage. My body turns into mush, but I can't stop my brain from going a mile a minute. I wish there was a way he could get rid of the emotional tension as well as the physical.
He massages me for about thirty minutes before I even begin to relax, and I sense that he isn't even tired yet when he phone rings, startling us both. He looks at it warily, obviously fearing that it is one of my relatives, because normally he would have answered it before I could move.
"H-Hello?" I say, stammering noticeably.
"Emily! Hey, it's Mom! Guess where we are?" She sings the last part of it.
"You're here? Now?" I ask, strangely feeling simultaneously sick and elated.
"Kind of. We're at Sue's. Daddy and I decided we're going to stay here for the weekend. I know you and Sam offered and it's very sweet of you, but we just don't feel we know him well enough yet to impose."
"Oh, Mom, you wouldn't be imposing! Sam and I have much more room than Uncle Harry does!" I say, but inwardly, I am very much relieved. I clamp my mouth shut before my traitorous good girl tendencies can betray me any longer.
"It's alright," she says, breezily. "Really, don't worry about it. I haven't see Sue in so long anyways – "
" – me the phone, Jo-Anne!" I hear my dad sounding annoyed in the background, as if he's been askingfor the phone for a while now. "Hello, Emily?" he says and I'm surprised to hear the abrupt change in voices.
"Hey, Dad," I say, but he keeps talking, interrupting me.
"We'll be there in twenty minutes, Em. Can't wait to see you. Love you. Bye."
Without waiting for a response, Dad hangs up. I can only assume it's to keep the Clearwater's phone bill down to a minimum this year, but for some reason, my stomach knots up anyways.
"They'll be here in twenty minutes," I repeat to Sam, my voice betraying the nervousness I feel.
He nods and resumes my massage, and surely before twenty minutes is up, there is a knock at the door.
I shoot Sam a scared look and he shoots back a questioning one, silently asking if I want him to answer it. I shake my head. Hating myself for this, I give Sam a onceover, making sure he is presentable. He's wearing a tight black athletic shirt and grey cargo pants with obvious wear-and-tear in the knees. As tight as they are around his muscular legs, I have no doubt that they'll soon become cut-offs, but I'm glad that he seems to be making an effort to keep all of his clothes on around my family.
He smiles at me and I smile weakly back, then he looks towards the door pointedly. Another knock sounds.
A blush rises high in my cheeks as I realize that if I don't answer the door soon, that only gives my parents a reason to assume the worst.
"Go in the bathroom," I suddenly plead with Sam. Because won't it look even worse if we were to answer the door together after a delayed amount of time? He nods, understanding what I mean, immediately, and moving faster than normal, he quickly disappears into the bathroom.
I look out of the peephole. My stomach tightens again. I know I am overreacting. I should be happy to see them! Taking a deep breath, I open the door.
"Emily!" my mom exclaims, happily, and pulls me into a hug before I can invite them in. My dad grins next to her as Matt stands behind them on the porch looking as if he has his own personal thundercloud over his head. He pointedly looks over Mom and Dad's shoulders and past me into the house, searching for Sam no doubt.
"Hi, Matt," I say with forced enthusiasm, bringing his attention to rest on me. He gives me a small smile.
"Hey, Emily," he says, gently, his expression softening.
"'So we going to stand on the porch, or what?" my dad teases.
I step back, sheepishly, and let everyone in, noticing the little blue car they arrived in. It's not Mom's or Dad's, so I can only assume it's Matt's, which is strange because Matt's always hated driving.
"Your car?" I say as Matt comes up to the door.
"No. Yours," he says, flashing me a more sincere grin. He hugs me briefly, taking advantage of my confusion.
"Oh, Matthew! You ruined the surprise!" my mom says, throwing her hands up in the air.
Matt shrugs, and my dad glares at him.
"We got you a car, Emily," Dad says, turning his attention to me. "We figured it would be useful for the commute. Not to mention, we're really pleased you decided to go to college after the trick you pulled." He makes a face, reminding me of the fact that I lied to them about applying to colleges before I graduated high school.
"It wasn't a trick," I protested. 'I just wasn't sure what I wanted to do."
"And you set yourself up to have no options," my mother added.
"So now you know what you want to do?" Matt said, raising his eyebrows. "Just like that? You decided you want to study at Peninsula out of the blue? Sure you don't have any ulterior motives for wanting to stay here?"
"Matt," my mom admonishes, gently, but I can see the curiosity in her eyes.
"This house is nice," my dad says, trying and failing to change the subject.
I invite everyone to take a seat, but I feel awkward, suddenly. And right on time, Sam walks into the room. I have no doubt he could hear everything from the bathroom. I feel myself blushing again.
"Hello, Ulterior Motive," Matt says, cheerily.
My mouth drops open, but Sam doesn't look surprised in the least bit. Further proof that he was listening in.
"It's Sam," he says, simply, holding out his hand for Matt to shake. "You must be Matt."
Matt just looks at him and doesn't reach out to grab his hand. Sam pulls his own back.
"Mom, Dad, this is Sam," I say hurriedly. "Sam, my parents. And yes, that's my brother, Matt." The jerk, I want to add, but I don't.
"It's Matthew," he says, further cementing his role as the jerk.
"Nice to meet you," Sam says, sticking his hands in his pockets just as my parents both reach out for a shake.
There is uneasy laughter and part of me wants to just sink into the floor. With a move as natural as breathing, Sam lifts me out of the armchair, sits in it and starts to pull me into his lap, but I silently resist, and end up on the arm of the chair itself. My parents politely ignore this exchange, though I know my face must be bright red.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam," my mom says, pleasantly. She's the only one.
"How old did Emily say you were?" my dad asks.
"I didn't," I whisper, but my dad ignores me. I'm mortified.
"I'm twenty-one," Sam answers, somewhat defensively.
"Really? You don't look twenty-one to me," Matt interjects. Sam narrows his eyes, but doesn't respond. Matt smirks.
"Still, you're clearly old enough to buy alcohol," Matt continues. "You drink, Sam?"
"They got me a car, Sam," I interrupt, desperately trying to change the subject.
"I don't," Sam answers Matt anyway, then turns his attention to me. He gives me a small smile. "That's very nice. It'll be easier for you to get to school."
"Or… you know, get to La Push to work for Harry," Matt says, narrowing his eyes. He turns to Sam. "Remember she might not stay here."
"Matt – " I start to say, angrily, but Sam interrupts me.
"I wasn't aware you had the power to make that decision," he says, evenly. Matt glares at him fiercely.
"Don't you think you're a little old to hang around my eighteen year old sister?" Matt said, his voice getting louder.
"Not unless Emily's been lying about her age," Sam says. "I was under the impression that she was eighteen, and therefore, a legal adult."
"Just barely," Matt retorts.
"Matthew, cut it out," my dad interrupts. "Sam, normally I'm not into interior decorating, but you've done a great job with this house. It's small, but it has charm. Just my style."
Matt looks put out, but Sam seems to relax somewhat at that. "Actually, my mom decorated it before she passed away a few years ago. Thank you, though."
"Yeah, it's definitely small all right," Matt says, snidely. "I'm pretty sure that if you put mine and Emily's old bedrooms together, it'd be bigger than this."
I gape at him, then turn to Sam to get his reaction. He looks as if he's been punched in the gut and I feel so ashamed. I had never told Sam how big my house is in Seattle. My mother likes to live big and my father indulges her. They're both breadwinners at their jobs, but I have a feeling that if my dad had his way, especially now that both Matt and I have moved out, they would move into an apartment. My dad is like me – he prefers coziness to grandiose.
"Matthew, I believe your father told you to behave," my mother says, coldly. "If you can't do that, then you're more than welcome to stand outside in the cold. Honestly, act your age please. Not your shoe size."
"Actually, to tell you the truth," Sam says, looking away from me. "I've been thinking about expanding lately. I can see how the house could feel… claustrophobic."
"Claustrophobic?" I say, curious, and Sam looks at me again.
"It's just, if you ever… ever wanted me to expand… that's completely possible. You know, if you're used to something bigger – " he says, uncomfortably, and I stop him immediately before he can continue.
"No!" I exclaim. Then, embarrassed at my outburst, I lower my voice, aware that my parents are watching us, noticing everything, including the way we react to each other. "No, I like it the way it is. It's perfect."
Sam doesn't look very convinced, but out of the corner of my eye, I see my mom smile. She turns to Sam next.
"You mentioned that your mother passed away a few years ago?" she asks. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, yes, she had cancer," Sam says, not uncomfortably.
My mom nods. She smiles again and surprises everyone when she reaches forward and pats Sam's arm. I notice that she quickly removes her hand and I have to hide a smile of my own since I know it's because of his body heat.
"It's a very nice house, sweetheart," she says, genuinely, and Sam gives her his trademark tiny smile.
Matt coughs, turning everyone's focus back to him. He's staring at Sam again and I can just see the wheels turning in his head. I'm really beginning to wish he had stayed home, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.
"Emily, didn't you mention something about Leah moving in here before they broke up?" he says, his voice all innocence.
Sam tenses up again, however, and my face drains of all color. I look at my parents, but they seem curious to hear the answer, so they don't stop him this time.
"Yes," I say, tersely. "Obviously, things have changed."
"And seemingly for the better," Matt says with raised eyebrows. "I can't imagine Leah wanting to settle down in a place like this… or anywhere, really. But especially right down the street from her parents where they could keep an eye on her."
"No, Leah wasn't the settling type," Sam agrees. I feel a pang of jealousy, but I ignore it. I'm unsure of Matt's motives, but I know he has them, so I refuse to let him see me react at all.
"Are you?" Matt continues. "Is this – " He gestures around. " – what you want?"
Sam glances at me, and then looks steadily at Matt. "Emily is what I want," he says, his voice low, but audible.
My dad raises his eyebrows. My mom looks at me, shock all over her face. Oh, right. I had never technically told her that Sam and I are together now.
"Obviously," Matt replies. "So, if Emily had enough of La Push by the end of the semester, and decided she wanted to transfer to a school in Seattle, would you come with her? Or just move on to the next girl passing through the reservation?"
My body grows ice cold, and my mother opens her mouth to say something, but seems to forget whatever it is she's going to say. My dad stays silent and I turn to Sam.
He looks visibly pained, and at that, my anxiety grows.
"I… I would do whatever Emily wanted me to do," he finally says, though it looks like it kills him to say it. It looks forced, and I can't help, but internally question whether or not he's lying.
I remember Leah telling me that they used to have all these plans to travel to different places, before Sam suddenly got angry with her one day and told her that he had responsibilities here. Whatever these responsibilities – now I'm positive they have something to do with the council, Jared, and Paul… Uncle Harry… the big secret – would he be able to walk away from them if that's what I wanted to do? Or would he chose them over me… the way he chose me over Leah?
I can't stop the hurt from showing on my face, and when Matt looks at me, he looks apologetic for all of one second before the smugness returns to him.
"He doesn't have to worry about that," I say, but I don't look at Sam when I speak. "I'm not leaving the reservation any time soon if I can help it."
This fails to wipe the look off of Matt's face and a large part of me really wants to punch him in the nose. Unfortunately, I am not a violent person. At all.
"If you would excuse me," Sam suddenly says. He rises from the armchair and goes out of the front door as we all stare after him.
I throw Matt a vicious glare reminiscent of Leah before standing up to follow Sam. I find him on the side of the house, visibly shaking.
"Sam?" I ask, my voice small but alarmed. "Are you okay?" It seems like a silly question because of course he's not okay, but it slips out anyway.
I glimpse a bit of panic in his eyes before he closes them and takes two deep breaths. He opens them to find me standing in front of them and he looks a bit surprised. I suppose it's the first time I've ever snuck up on him.
"Yeah," he says. "I am now."
"I'm sorry," I say. "Matt is… not normally like this. He's just trying to be the big brother I guess, extra protective and all."
He nods, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he reaches out for my hips and pulls me into him. Then, he kisses me. Once, twice, tenderly. Slowly. Deeply. And with tongue. One of his hands reaches up to the back of my neck and tangles itself in my hair, holding my head in place. My tongue hesitantly strokes his, and he lets out a tiny moan before suddenly spinning me around, so that I am the one up against the side of the house. He presses his body against me and I can feel his hardness through his jeans, hitting me exactly where it's supposed to. He thrusts none-too-gently and it's my turn to let out a moan.
Feeling emboldened by the magnitude of his desire, I reach a hand down between us and cup him over his jeans.
"Oh God, Emily," He pulls his mouth off of mine and breathes into my skin.
I won't pretend it's not thrilling that we're doing this in broad daylight, but I find it's also rather limiting. One of his hands reaches under my tank top, underneath my sports bra, and his fingers skim over my breast. The same hand quickly changes direction, and slips past the waistline of my sweatpants, and underneath my underwear. His fingers explore my folds, the lubrication down there causing everything to feel amazing, and it's all I can do to keep stroking his penis over his jeans. He locates my opening and easily slips a finger in.
"Sam," I whimper, clinging to him. My knees have gone weak again. He's added a second finger and is pumping in and out rather quickly now. I can feel the pressure building and I'm just about to come undone when suddenly, he's five feet away from me. I stare at him, shocked, unable to process anything when I hear a muffled sound.
"Ah hem." My mother is standing at the corner of the house, having just come outside. "It is far too cold out here for you to not have jackets on." She places her hands on her hips, and gives me a Look.
I am mortified. If not for Sam, she would have seen far more than she ever wanted to see from her daughter. I wonder how much she did see, anyway. Sam doesn't look at me as he walks past her, but when I try to do the same, she snatches my arm and holds me back.
"I didn't see anything," she says as soon as Sam is out of sight. I can only imagine she's speaking in response to the humiliation all over my face. I let out a tiny sigh of relief.
"But," she continues, "I know what those guilty face expressions mean, and I thought that you and Sam weren't dating? I seem to remember you insisting that you two were only best friends."
"We were," I mumble, but she doesn't buy it. I don't push it.
She purses her lips, much like Aunt Sue, and it makes me cringe. "Look, I still can't say I fully approve of this situation, but… Sam seems like a good guy so far. And it doesn't take a psychic to see that he makes you happy. I wish you had waited until we came down here before you moved in with him and made everything so final, but remember if it doesn't work out, you're always welcome back home. Or if you find that you really like Peninsula College, we'll be glad to pay for a place for you to stay next semester."
I smile, though the idea of things not working out between me and Sam is ludicrous. "Thank you," I say anyways. "And thank you so much for the car!"
She hugs me. "You're so very welcome. Now, what do you say we get those boys out of the house and go for a walk on the beach or something."
For once, it isn't raining, so I agree wholeheartedly. And that's what we do for the rest of the day until my dad decides he wants to treat everyone to dinner. We squeeze into my new little car, my dad insisting that he drive, though I suspect it's just because he doesn't want to end up wedged in the backseat. I can't say I blame him. I'm squeezed between Sam and Matt – not that I mind the proximity to Sam, and actually, Matt's not a huge guy, but they keep glaring daggers at each other. And that makes it less than enjoyable.
Surprisingly enough, Matt is quite civil at dinner, but Sam and I find out later, it's because he wants to stay at our house instead of the Clearwater's. It's clear that Sam wants to say no, and I would have if my parents hadn't been sitting right there. Reluctantly, I agree, knowing instinctively that it's a bad idea, but not wanting to be rude. Although, I would be perfectly justified, considering how rude he's been to us.
My parents drop us off at home, then drive the car to the Clearwater's, saying that they'll bring it back when they pick up Matt in the morning. It makes me wish it was already morning.
Less than two seconds after they drive away, Matt starts.
"I'm disappointed in you, Emily."
"Matt, stop. Just stop. Please," I say, tiredly. It's been a long day, and I'm really not in the mood to deal with him.
Sam comes to stand beside me and reaches for my hand. Matt snorts.
"If she were a few months younger, this would be illegal. It would count as statutory rape. You know that right?" he says.
"Shut up!" I hiss as Sam's eyes flash in anger next to me. "Why do you have to be like that? Sam's done nothing to you! Why can't you just be happy for me and try to get along with him?"
"Because he's not good enough for you," Matt states, calmly. He's speaking to me, but his eyes are on Sam. "Look at this place, Emily. It's tiny, but it has charm? Please! That's not like you."
"What are you talking about?"
"I recall a little girl who threw a temper tantrum at Christmas because her dollhouse couldn't fit her entire doll family. It was the wrong one, not the one she had asked for apparently. But more importantly, not big enough."
"Are you kidding me? I was six!" I say, angrily. "People change, Matt."
I can feel Sam's hand shaking in mine. Finding a sense of inner calm I never realized I had, I turn to him. "Go. Into the room. I'll be in there soon."
Surprisingly enough, he listens to me. Matt just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
"Is this some new project of yours?" he asks. "You're rich so you feel like you have to give to the poor?"
Now I am shaking. "Matt, I swear, if you say one more word – "
Just like that, his face expression changes. "Why are you so hung up on this guy, Emily?" he says, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "Tell me the truth. Is he… threatening you? Because if he is, you can tell me."
"What? No, he's not threatening me! Why would you say that?" I say, stunned.
Matt sighs and starts speaking very slowly as if I am a child. "Emily, he's an older guy. Aren't you at all curious about why he chose you? Or Leah for that matter, when he could be with someone his own age? Obviously he's only after you for one thing. But Leah… she's a wildcard, you know? If he told her he didn't want to have sex and tried to pressure her, she'd probably tell the whole town, but you're different than Leah. You're… softer. Not to mention, a few months younger, and just that much more impressionable. He whispers sweet nothings in your ears, tells you he loves you, pressures you a little bit, and after knowing him for three months, you decide to move in with the guy. It's not that hard to tell what's really going on here."
I hear a loud crash coming from Sam's bedroom, but I am reeling from what Matt's just said.
When I finally find my voice, Matt is looking at me warily.
"If you weren't my brother, I would tell you to get out of my house. Right now. You are lucky we're related by blood," I say, fiercely.
"Leah's related to you by – "
"Don't you dare talk to me about Leah right now. Or ever. Nothing that happened here is any of your business. Nothing that is going to happen here is any of your business. Sam would never, ever, in a million years threaten me in any way. Maybe I don't know everything about him, and maybe it was too soon to move in with him. I don't know. But if I believe anything, I believe that he's a good guy. A really, really good guy, and he's never tried to pressure me into anything.
And I'm not an idiot, Matt! I'm not that much younger than you are, but all of a sudden you see me as some young, sheltered, impressionable girl who can't make intelligent decisions? Who are you and what have you done with my brother? Because my brother would know that I could care less about living like I'm above the rest of the world. I could care less about taking exotic trips every year. Or did you not notice that I come here every summer? You're the one who wanted to go all those places with Mom and Dad, not me.
And I really don't care how big my room is in Seattle! A room is a room. A house is a house. If you knew anything about me at all, you would know that I haven't felt at home in Seattle in years. I told Aunt Sue that very same thing in the beginning of this summer. La Push is where I belong, Matt. With Sam is where I belong. So you can either get that through your head, or you can leave."
I glare daggers at him, but he looks at the floor and doesn't say a word. I shake my head, disgustedly and turn to leave. I stop at the hallway and turn back.
"If you choose to stay, the linen closet is right here. There are fresh blankets in there. But if you'd rather use a bed, feel free to use mine. I won't be needing it tonight."
His mouth drops open, but I turn around without another word, continue down the hallway, and enter Sam's room. Before my eyes adjust to the darkness, I close and lock the door behind me.
When I turn, he's waiting for me at the edge of the bed. Without hesitating, I go over to him, crawl into his lap forwards, so that I'm straddling him, and bring my lips down to his. His warm soothes me immediately, and he brings his arms up to wrap around me.
My tongue seeks entrance and he gives it. Whatever I wordlessly ask for, he gives it. I put his hands to the edge of my shirt and he lifts it up and over my head. He does the same with my bra. Then, my sweatpants and my underwear slowly come off, too.
He's laying down on the bed now, and I'm on top, still straddling him. He's still wearing the clothes he was in earlier, and I'm completely nude. I don't like how exposed I feel, even in the dark. I tug at his shirt, and he helps me pulls it up and over his head. Then, I slide backwards off of his body momentarily, so that I can tug his jeans off. The wear-and-tear in one of the knees becomes a hole at my tugging, but I don't care, and I doubt he does, either.
The bulge in his boxers is evident, and I hesitate, looking up to him. He just watches me wordlessly. No pressure. There's never any pressure from Sam. But I shake my head, embarrassed. I'm not ready yet. He gives me his small smile, and pulls me back onto his body. The force of his tug causes my damp center to land on his stomach. I gasp loudly as the heat on his body meets the heat from my core, and I feel him shudder underneath me.
Experimentally, I rub my wetness against his abs. It feels like heaven. I can only imagine what the hardness of his penis will feel like. Inside me. I will come if I keep doing this. Simply because he's so warm. And hard all over. I'm not ready to come yet, so I make myself stop.
I slide backwards again, but this time I position myself right over the hardness of his penis. His boxers is the only barrier between us, and we're both painfully aware. Somewhat shyly, I reach down and grip his hardness in my right hand, keeping his boxers over it. I rub my thumb over the head and watch as his eyes roll back in his head and he gives another involuntary shudder. I feel it throughout his body.
Slowly, I bring my vagina closer and start to rub his penis head throughout the folds of my vagina. I don't know if it's his pre-cum or my wetness, but something soaks through, and it feels amazing. Emboldened, I slide myself forward so that the head of his covered penis is about an inch inside of me and I thrust gently. His breathing changes, abruptly.
"E-Emily, I can't," he says, grabbing my arms again. This time, though, he pushes me away. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to come," he says, apologetically.
I want him to. But I can understand how it wouldn't be a good idea inside of his boxers or all over the bed. One of us would have to go out into the hall for more sheets. And even though my brother knows we're having sex, that just wouldn't look good.
Disappointed, I start to get off of him when he flips me over so that I am the one on my back. His eyes drink me in and I am painfully aware that it's the first time he's seen me completely naked and ready for him. I'm nervous, though I know I don't need to be. Whether I am beautiful or not, Sam sees me that way. He makes me feel that way. I watch as he swallows, audibly.
Then, as if he's never touched me before, he reaches his hands out and places them on my hands. Lightly, he skims them up my arms, up to my shoulders, causing me to shiver at his touches. He runs them down over my collarbones and past my breasts, making sure not to miss an inch of skin. He continues lower past my ribs, my belly button and my waist. Further down, he goes over the sides of my legs, all the way down to my feet. I'm breathing heavily. He does all of his maddeningly slowly, and it's pure torture, though it feels amazing.
He keeps going, back up over my legs until he reaches my center. Like he did outside earlier, his fingers grace over my vagina until I'm practically dripping for him and then he slowly thrusts two fingers inside. He's still going ridiculously slowly.
"Sam." I'm literally panting, but I'm so far gone that I don't care how I sound. And just like before, I'm right on the peak, so close to exploding when he suddenly stops.
My eyes fly open. I don't remember when I closed them, but I focus on his face and he has the nerve to be smiling at me. I want to kick him.
"What are you – why did you - ?" I can't even talk properly.
His smile disappears to be replaced with a nervous look. "I want to ask… if… you wouldn't mind. Um, if you wanted to try – "
"What?" I ask, impatiently.
" – if I could… taste you."
I don't think I've ever blushed so deeply in my life. My eyes leave his. I can't look at him when I feel this hot and bothered. It's too intense.
"I'm sorry," he says, suddenly. "If this is too fast, we can stop. Or if… you don't like that sort of thing – "
" – I, no. I-I do," I stammer, my face on fire. I still can't look at him, but I can feel him watching me, waiting for an answer. Jerkily, I nod my head once and close my eyes.
I feel him spread my legs gently, and then position himself between them. The bed isn't that long, so I can only assume that his top half is on it, he's bent at the waist, and his bottom half is on the floor, kneeling. I'm too afraid to open my eyes and look. Half naked Sam Uley in between my legs, with his face so close to my - no. I can't look. I'm terrified.
I feel his thumbs gently peel my layers back and I tense up all over. Then, his tongue, wet and warm touches me down there for the first time and I lose all control. My grasping hands clutch the sheets beneath me. His tongue strokes me up and down, dipping in and out of my folds. I hear tiny, whimpering sounds that may or may not be coming from me. In what could probably be an accident, his tongue brushes over my clit. My entire body jerks involuntarily. He does it again. I give the same reaction. If it was an accident the first time, it isn't now. He puts his mouth over it and darts out again and again with his tongue until I can no longer handle myself. My eyes fly open, and I'm stunned to see that his eyes are on my face. Without quite realizing what I am doing, I reach a hand down and attempt hold his head in place. I'm breathing rather loudly, now, but I can't break the eye contact, no matter how desperately I want to.
Slowly, he tongues me down until the tip meets my throbbing center. And then, he plunges. I scream and positively shatter right there into a million pieces. I'm gone –
- gone by the time we make our way into the kitchen for breakfast. Mind you, it's only around ten o'clock, but since he is a guest, albeit a rude one, we probably should have been up earlier.
Worried I turn to Sam, but the worry in his eyes is only a reflection of my own. He's worried that I'm worried, he's not worried about Matt. I can't blame him. If Matt were anyone else, I wouldn't be worried either.
But, he's my brother. And I don't want our relationship damaged because of his refusal to get along with my boyfriend. I still love him, even though he was acting like a jerk yesterday. I know in the beginning, it started off with good intentions, so although I can fault him for his behavior, I can't fault him for caring.
A peek outside confirms that the car is still gone. I sigh. I wonder if I should just go over to the Clearwater's and make sure everything is okay. My face burns. The last thing I want is for him to get mad at me and say something about my night with Sam.
Before I can make up my mind, I hear an engine outside. Sam and I peer out the window and I'm relieved to see my parents with Matt in tow. They all have smiles on their faces and appear to be laughing at a joke one of them told. I doubt they would look that if Matt mentioned the sounds that were coming out of my mouth last night. I relax and go to the door, answering it before they can knock.
"Good morning!" Dad says, cheerfully. He gives me a hug and I return it.
"Hey, sweetheart, I hope you don't mind, but Daddy and I want to get on the road and head back home a day early," Mom says.
I blink in surprise. "Oh? Okay."
"Yeah, we've seen all we need to see here," my dad says meaningfully, widening his eyes at Sam. Sam looks startled, but my dad laughs. "I'm just joking. Don't worry about me. I'm no good with the threats."
"You don't mind, do you, honey? You seem to be well-adjusted, and Matt even came over this morning with a new attitude chattering our ears off about how Sam seems to be a positive influence on you," my mom says, squeezing Matt's hand.
"Huh?" I say, completely confused. I turn to Sam and he's giving me a look that clearly says, 'What in the world?'
My mom shrugs, so I look at Matt who seems completely embarrassed.
"I'm sorry for everything," he says, glancing up at me and then at Sam. "I was wrong for how I acted. You're good for her."
Unable to stop the smile from spreading over my face, I launch myself into his arms. "Thank you, Matt!" I say, softly.
"Yeah, yeah," he says. "No excuses, but I'm extra worried about Meghan, you know? I guess it makes me cranky about anything else."
"How is she?" I ask, honestly interested. Meghan was always nice to me, though she kept me at a distance. Matt said once that because of my age and the fact that I'm a girl, she didn't know how to relate to me. She has younger siblings, too, but they're twin boys, and all of her close friends growing up were guys as well.
"She's good," he says, visibly brightening. "Maybe after Claire is born, we can all come down and visit."
"Claire?" My mom interrupts excitedly. "It's a girl?"
"I think so," Matt says, confidently. "Meghan's convinced it's a boy, so whenever we talk about it, she calls her Christopher."
"Wouldn't she know better than you? Seeing as how the baby's inside of her and all?" I ask.
"No," Matt says simply, and we all laugh.
"When will you find out?" Sam speaks up, addressing Matt directly.
Matt actually smiles. "We're going to wait until she's born. So one of us can say, 'I told you so.' It's more fun that way."
"I think the names are good either way. Claire Young. Christopher Young," I say, shrugging.
"Do you?" Matt says, slyly. "What's your last name, Sam?"
"Uley," Sam answers, but I can feel my blush creeping up. I already know where this is going.
"Hm, that's going to be a hard one to figure out first names for," Matt says, thoughtfully. "But Emily Uley doesn't sound half bad…"
Sam looks shocked and Matt just laughs. I reach out and hit him on the arm, humiliated.
"On that note, I think it's best we get going," my dad says. He pats my shoulder, shakes Sam's hand and then heads for the door.
"Call me anytime, day or night. I know you have a cell phone now," my mom says, pulling me into a hug. She pulls Sam into a hug as well. "Nice meeting you, sweetheart. You take care."
"See you," Matt says, then does some awkward fist bump thing with Sam.
We follow them to the front door where I can see that Uncle Harry is here to drop them off to wherever they need to go. I assume the bus station. My mom may be somewhat uppity, but she's certainly not above using Greyhound.
We watch them until we can't see them anymore. Then we go inside, look at each other, and dissolve into giggles. Well, I dissolve into giggles. Sam doesn't giggle. He just laughs. We collapse on the couch, exhausted.
"That wasn't too bad, was it?" I ask, peering at him from behind my hair.
He gives me a small smile, relaxing me instantly. "I've been through worse."
Somehow, maybe the way he says it, reminds me that he's supposed to tell me what's going on with him. I guess he can read it in my face expression or something because he tenses up when he looks at me.
"I didn't forget," he says simply.
I watch him. I don't want to push, though I'm dying to know.
"Can I… can I tell you tomorrow?" he asks, pained.
My mood changes from anticipatory to disappointed to annoyed. I'm sure he can read it all on my face. I'm about to open my mouth to protest that I've waited long enough when something in his expression stops me. He's tense all over and there's a barely contained terrified look on his face.
"Yes, that's fine," I say, quickly.
We're tired, so we spend the rest of the day in the house, doing nothing. It's Saturday, and Uncle Harry's given us the whole weekend off expecting that my parents were going to stay until Sunday, so we don't have to do anything.
We just laze around, watching movies and exploring each other's bodies and minds.
The next day I wake up with butterflies in my stomach. I dreamed he was going to tell me a dozen different things last night, but I can't remember any of them. I do remember that none of them seemed very likely, though.
I roll over and watch Sam's sleeping face. He looks so pleasant, and I know that whatever he has to share with me is going to be unpleasant, so I figure maybe I could make it a little easier on him. I jump up, take a lightning fast shower, and fix pancakes and bacon.
He comes into the kitchen, nose first, with a delighted smile on his face. "Good morning," he says, happily, stopping to kiss my cheek.
I grin and we sit down to eat.
"I hope you don't mind, but I have to run an errand this morning," he says, glancing at the clock. "I shouldn't be gone long."
"No problem," I say. He gets up and starts to clean up the dishes, but I don't let him, my logic being the sooner he leaves, the sooner he can come back.
He smiles at me again, kisses me on the mouth this time, and then heads out of the door. I don't bother pointing out that he's not wearing his shoes. He does that quite often, and it's weird, but if I question him about it, he'll brush it off. So I figure it's not that important and it's something I've come to accept.
An hour goes by and he's not back. I amuse myself by doing the laundry. Two hours go by and I wonder what the errand could possibly be. Clearly he didn't run to a nearby store, or anything. He would have been back by now.
Three and four hours go by and now I'm getting seriously worried. I stare at the phone, willing it to ring. I call Uncle Harry on my cell phone, but either he's become a master at feigning ignorance or his own worry is real. He is confident that it can't be that important, though, but I don't know how he could possibly know that, other than the fact that Jared is working in his store today. What that has to do with anything, I really wish I knew.
Five hours go by, it's four o'clock in the afternoon and I'm beyond worried. A knock sounds at the door and I launch myself off the couch, and yank open the door before I remember that if it was Sam, he would have used a key. And I shouldn't yank open my door for strangers.
My thoughts are confirmed when I see not Sam, but Paul standing on the porch.
"Hi," I say, guardedly.
He looks angry, as usual. "Sam sent me to tell you that he's going to be back kinda late. Something came up."
I blink at him. "That's it? You can't tell me where he is, or what he's doing?"
"No, I can't. You want to know any more, take it up with him. And then tell him he's being an ass," Paul said, angrily. His teeth are gritted almost like he's in pain.
I glare at him, though I know it isn't really his fault. "Are you going back to see him?"
"Yeah," he says, looking surprised.
"Then take me with you."
He stares at me for a few seconds before he actually starts laughing. It transforms his entire face. I stare at him in shock. Then, just as suddenly as he started, he stops and the permanent scowl is back. "Yeah, right."
He turns and starts to walk away.
"I'm serious!" I yell, stepping off the porch, after him. But I'm not ready to follow him anywhere. I'm not wearing shoes. And – I realize that Paul isn't either – as acceptable as it might be for them, my feet cannot handle nature the way theirs can.
"Not my problem! Take it up with him!" he yells back before starting to run. Incensed, I watch him disappear out of my sight.
Something came up, indeed. How utterly convenient.
Around seven in the evening, the door opens slowly. I watch it from my vantage point on the couch, eyes narrowed. Sam comes in as quietly as possible.
He turns to face me, but I don't startle him or anything. He already knew I was sitting here somehow. He can locate me easily in any room, no matter where we are, I've realized.
He stands by the doorway, draped in reluctance. I don't say a word. I hope that Paul has relayed everything to him. Every word, every expression on my face, every inch of body language.
I take a deep breath, about to say what, I'm not quite sure, but he talks first.
"Will you… come with me somewhere?" he asks, tentatively.
I want to say no so badly. But my curiosity is in control right now.
"Where?" I say, simply, putting a hold on my anger.
"On a walk."
I study him. I really want to say no. I'm tired of giving in to him all the time. I sigh, then disappear in the back to get my coat and my shoes. I grab a pair of his shoes, too. He gives me a small smile when I hand them to him. We leave the house, setting off in the direction of the woods.
He doesn't talk until we reach the tree line. "Being related to the Clearwater's, I can only assume you know the legends of the Quileute people?"
"I've heard some of them, yes," I say, surprised. This topic of conversation certainly came out of nowhere. "I mean, Leah liked to tell Seth some scary stuff at bedtime when we were younger."
"Do you remember the ones about the shape-shifters? The wolves?"
"I think so. Is this really relevant?" I say, laughing a bit. "We're in the woods. It's getting dark. And you want to talk about wolves?"
He doesn't smile. He doesn't even speak anymore until we reach a small clearing. I wonder suddenly if he used to come here as a child. The thought saddens me. I wonder if he's brought Leah here. That thought stirs up jealous feelings. Then, I feel guilty for being jealous.
He turns to face me. "What do you remember about the wolf-legends?" he continues to speak.
I shake my head, feeling apprehensive. Why is this important?
"I don't know. Not much," I answer, honestly.
"Our ancestors became wolves because of the need to protect our people from the cold ones. Blood-suckers. Vampires."
I blink at him, puzzled. "Yes… I think I remember that one."
He takes a deep breath, then starts speaking quickly. "It's a trait that was passed down through generations. There's a family of cold ones who live nearby. The Cullens. Because of their presence, some of us have unwillingly inherited the wolf gene."
I stare at him, completely lost. "You've inherited the wolf gene," I repeat.
"Yeah. Me and Jared and Paul. So far, anyways." He shoves his hands into the pocket of his shorts and watches me, warily.
My mind is blank. "You and Jared and Paul," I repeat. "You inherited the wolf gene. Because a family of vampires live nearby?"
"Yes," he says simply.
I stare at him. Is this a joke? Clearly he's trying to distract me. I feel myself slowly getting angry. "So are you trying to tell me that that's where you disappear to for weeks at a time? You're saving the world from vampires?"
"Not the world. Just La Push," he says, defensively.
I can't believe he's wasting time telling me this nonsense. "And you're clearly the leader. So what does that make them? Werewolves-in-training?" The sarcasm is heavy in my voice, but if he hears it, he doesn't let on.
"Kind of. I'm the alpha, technically. For now." He looks away when he says this, so he misses my hands balling into fists.
"Will you please stop?" I say through clenched teeth. I'm just barely holding on to my self-control.
His gaze returns to me, his face confused. This only makes me angrier.
"Stop what?" he asks, bewildered. He must be joking.
I shake my head and turn away. I start to walk off, hoping that if I make a beeline, it'll eventually lead me out of the woods. We weren't walking for very long, so we can't be that far in.
"Emily!" He catches up to me and grabs my arm, but I wrench it away and spin to face him.
"If you're never going to tell me, then just let me know that! Let me know there are some things you can't trust me with! But don't – don't make up wild stories - !"
He protests. "I'm not! I'm not making anything up!"
"Shut up, Sam!" I say, heated. He looks stunned. "You just told me that you, Jared, and Paul transform into wolves a-and you fight vampires and that the legends are real – this isn't one of your horror DVDs! I can't believe you actually brought me into the woods for this. Well, very funny, the joke's on me! Did Harry put you up to this? Did he?"
I feel sick to my stomach.
"Take me home," I whisper, staring at the ground.
"Emily – "
"I want to go back. Now." I turn around and cross my arms, livid. There are no words to explain how angry and hurt and mortified I feel. He's making a fool of me. They all are. My own uncle. They're all laughing behind my back… Oh God, Leah might be in on it, too –
"Emily, listen to me."
I don't turn around. I don't answer. Tears burn behind my eyes and then cascade down onto my face. I make no move to wipe them away.
"Emily, please."
No. I've given in to what he wants way too much. I've sacrificed way too much. My cousin. My family. My dignity. My –
"Emily, I… I love you."
I choke on a gasp. How dare he.
Furious beyond all reason, I turn around. He's right behind me, not five feet away. I raise my hand and slap him hard across the face.
"Go. To. Hell," I say, viciously.
He stares at me and the only word that could possibly describe his face expression is stricken. Then, right before my eyes, he starts to shake. Well, vibrate really. His eyes widen in horror. I stare at him, unsure of what is happening. Is he having a seizure? Is this what a seizure even looks like?
"Sam?" I say, my voice sounding impossibly young, even to my own ears. I start to walk up to him, but his mouth opens and he lets out a sound I can't even describe – almost like he's yelping. He raises his hands and I can only imagine it's to push me away, when suddenly, he's not there anymore.
When someone is struck with something, there always seems to be a second or so before the pain kicks in. A single second where the person registers that they just got hit, if they saw it coming, they can figure out what or who they got hit by, and if they're lucky, they might even be able to figure out why. In that second, there is some sort of clarity and understanding, even if they wake up in a hospital room days later and ask what happened. For a second, they knew.
In that second, I see something that makes no sense, whatsoever. I have no clarity, no understanding before the hurt makes itself known. There is only confusion and the pain, both sudden and excruciating; then the grass and dirt both rushing up to meet me as the trees fall away. I don't even feel myself hit the ground before I am greeted with darkness. There is howling, probably from me. And then, silence.
- FadingSlowly