Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight books. I'm only borrowing the characters and will return them mostly unharmed. Except for Quil. He'll be severely shaken up by the time I'm done with him. Italics are Quil's thoughts.

This chapter is rated T/M.

Why are you stopping?

Claire piled some small sticks and wood shavings into a methodical circle as she heard Quil curse quietly at the tent behind her. She took in a big breath of the chilly late afternoon air and savored the smell of pines, trying to calm her racing heart. Finally, two weeks after her 18th birthday, Quil had finally taken her for her celebratory camping night along the reservation cliffs! It had been years since they had been able to do this. When she was a young girl, Quil would often tag along with her family for these one-night getaways. Although they rarely left the reservation for these trips, something about being out under the moon and stars made it feel like she was on an adventure far away from her regular life.

"Need a hand there?" Claire grinned.

Quil grimaced slightly. "This tent is a little more complicated than I remember!" She heard a couple resolute thumps, then "HAH! Got it!"

Claire glanced back at the triumphant werewolf and the now upright tent. Her chest fluttered as she stared at the tent, which suddenly seemed petite compared to the huge man gazing proudly at it. She felt an all too familiar heat flush up her face as she thought about the single tent. Which they would share. To sleep. At night. Alone.

She took a couple deep cleansing breaths and tried to soothe the nervous thoughts running through her head. Over the last few months, she and Quil had been spending more and more time together. Regardless, they had never shared more than a couple heated kisses. Every time they found themselves pressed up against each other in a situation that was quickly escalating, Quil would gently break their embrace. It was maddening. Claire felt like a teapot over the fire, whistle-screaming at the pressure building up in her belly. Ignoring the feeling, she unpacked their makeshift dinner as Quil got to work lighting the fire.

They chattered happily throughout their meal and, as usual, Quil ensured that there were no crumbs left behind. She politely waited for him to finish but noticed the temperature had dropped precipitously, and she could see plumes of her foggy breath in the air despite the nearby campfire. Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced over at their green tent.

"It's getting too cold for you," Quil said, and quickly rose to his full towering height. Offering Claire his hand, he hoisted her up and led her to the tent. "Why don't you get ready for bed? I'm just going to look around and make sure the area is quiet." Claire nodded her head and slipped into the tent after Quil disappeared into the tree line. She rolled out their sleeping bags (Would Quil even fit in his? Did he even need one?), set up a lantern in the corner, and changed into a cozy long sleeved shirt, realizing she was still cold in her camping PJs. She settled down into her sleeping bag and picked up her sketch pad as she waited for Quil to return.

She jumped slightly as Quil flung open the entrance flap to the tent several minutes later. He crouched down low, somehow gracefully making his way into the tent despite his size. She sighed happily as she realized he had abandoned his shirt somewhere along his patrol, and her eyes drank in the sight of his broad chest. Quil must have noticed her gawking, because he smirked and very slowly slid a tank top on.

"Where are you drawing?" Quil asked, settling down next to her and glancing over her shoulder at her sketch pad. This was a game they had played since Claire picked up her first sketch pad. She would draw a place that they had visited together or a mutual memory, and Quil would try to guess.

"I… was just settling down to start," Claire said. Feeling Quil's warm arm next to hers, she found that she suddenly didn't want to draw at all. In fact, her mind was moving in a new direction completely.

"Uhm, Quil," she started, racking her brain for ideas. "I'm… I'm still cold." Quil said nothing. He slid into his too-small sleeping bag, scooted next to Claire, and lifted his arm in invitation. She happily slid into his warm embrace and rested her head on his chest.

"Thanks for bringing me out here" she said, tracing circles onto his skin with her index finger. "I forgot how much fun this is."

"You're welcome," he replied. "Happy birthday, Claire-bear." He brushed his lips against her hairline and, seeing her moment of opportunity, Claire tilted her head up until her lips met his. The kiss was loving and soft, and Quil's mouth barely moved against hers. She reached up to place her hand gently on his cheek, urging him for more. After a moment she felt him shudder and respond, pulling her entire sleeping bag closer until their bodies were pressed up against each other's. Their kisses grew wilder and more intrusive, and Claire was panting at the heat building up in her belly. Quil growled low in the back of his throat and, so suddenly that she wasn't sure how, slipped out of his sleeping bag and pressed himself against hers. She mindlessly kicked away her bag and moaned as Quil settled his heavy weight in between her thighs. She gasped in pleasure as he ground his heavy length against her apex, breathless with the new sensation. She moaned into his lips, overwhelmed by the liquid heat enveloping her core. Suddenly, Quil rolled away as if struck.

"No!" Claire jumped. "Why are you stopping?!"

"Claire," Quil looked slightly pained. "I don't want the situation to get out of hand."

"Out of hand?" Claire could hear her voice reaching a higher, hysterical decibel. "Why not?!"

"We…. we aren't ready, Claire. I don't want to take advantage of you…"

"You're not ready, Quil!" she corrected. "I'm ready. I've been telling you that I'm ready, and yet you never seem to be listening to me!" Quil's eyes widened.

"What you're doing is wrong, Quil." Claire spat. "I'm eighteen years old and I can decide what I am ready to do with my body. I don't need you to control that." She sobbed, "You can't just turn me on and off like a switch. We care about each other. Don't we?" He didn't answer, too startled by her fervent reaction. "Don't we?"

"We do," he breathed, reaching for her hand.

"This is important to me." Quil looked on in horror at the fat tears gathering in Claire's eyes before she rolled away from him and angrily shoved herself back into her sleeping bag, made even more irate by exquisite heat she still felt in between her thighs. Part of her was embarrassed: how could he be so cool and calm while she was out of her mind with lust?

"Claire-"

"I don't want to talk to you right now, Quil." With that, she reached over and flicked off the lantern.

AN: Back with a couple final chapters. Review!