(no subject)
So. Let's see here. I went to go watch New Moon on Thursday (yes, actually. Thanksgiving) and ten minutes after I got home, went searching for exactly this community. And let me just say: <3. OMFG YES. I am in love. So, I bring the gift of explicit sex. Yes. It was written for the !Kinkmeme floating around here, and got too long to be in just one comment. So, before I chicken out:
Title: Opportunist
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: slash? I'm pretty sure there are vague spoilers for Twilight and New Moon in here too.
Summary/Prompt: Jacob is emotionally vulnerable after Bella leaves for Italy and Paul is an opportunist.
He can either be really obsessed with Jacob prior to or he could only be using Jacob for his body. Writer's choice!
More Author's notes: Um, i'm not really sure how this whole !kinkmeme thing works, so if I screwed up royally, I'm sorry in advance. Also, this ended up having more sap and cuteness than I origionally intended, but I guess it sort of worked.
***
***
Paul waits for Jake in his house, eating the food Rachel’s set out for all of them, the pack, and tries to get his anger under control. It’s not fair, he thinks, and savagely rips a chunk of bread apart. Bella was never around, ever, and a year goes by and suddenly she knows everything and talks to them like she knows what’s best for Jacob when it’s been him, Paul, who’s helped him get over the fact that wow, I’m a werewolf, and did he mention that it’s just not fair?
Rachel comes in then, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like some sort of waterfall. He isn’t wearing a shirt, like always, and when she catches sight of him her eyes wander down his chest before meeting his eyes and smiling. He wishes then that he really had imprinted on her; it would have made his life so much easier. She smiles at him sadly and leans against the kitchen counter, watching him with impossibly large eyes-Jacob’s got the same kind, all wide and trusting and honest, and that doesn’t help with his mood at all.
“She left,” Rachel says slowly, like it’s supposed to have some kind of significance to him.
“Good,” Paul answers, looking down at the table and moving crumbs around with his pointer. “I hope those leeches bleed her dry.”
“You’re an idiot Paul, you know that?”
His head snaps up at that, anger flooding him so quickly it nearly makes him dizzy.
“What?”
She does something with her hair and a pencil that’s lying on the counter, makes it so that the waterfall becomes just a tight knot on the back of her head and fixes him with a glare, heedless of his simmering rage.
“Bella’s gone,” she says again, as if he hadn’t heard her. “That means Jacob’s alone.”
“So?”
“So, you’ve always been opportunistic, right?”
She looks at him for a while, just looks and looks and looks, and really, why should he care? At least maybe now Jake will see that she’s a lost cause or something. See that all she really wants is a pale, skinny, dark-haired blood sucker and if he knew what was good for him, he’d forget about her and-
“You really don’t get it do you?” she asks, still looking at him, and really, Paul’s moody and irritable at the best of times, and today is most certainly not one of those times. She sighs again, as if she can hear his thoughts. “Look, just go talk to him or something.”
“Why?”
“Do you really need me to give you a reason?” she shoots back, incredulous. “Fine: if you sit around here sulking you’re just going to end up tearing the kitchen apart. And he needs you right now.”
Paul looks away at that, hard anger melting away into something softer in his stomach.
“You can’t know that,” he says quietly.
“Well I do,” she answers and raises her chin in a gesture of disdain. “I’m his older sister. We’re supposed to know everything about our little brothers. Look,” and when she says it this time, her voice wavers a little, makes Paul face her again. Small, tight lines have begun to form on her forehead and around the corners of her mouth; he wonders if it’s not worry over Jacob that’s starting to age her. “Just trust me, ok? Go talk to him.”
He blinks, and spares a moment to wonder why he couldn’t just want someone less complicated, with fewer principles and less heartfelt integrity, someone who didn’t know a girl named Bella, preferably. Maybe even a girl. Then he sighs, runs a hand through his hair and gets up quickly.
He doesn’t say a word to Rachel, but by the way she smiles at him as he snaps the backdoor shut when he rushes out, he knows she understands.
He finds Jacob sitting in that junk house he uses as his workroom, sitting on a wooden bench with his head in his hands. Something clenches in his chest painfully, and now that he’s here, he can’t quite find the strength to walk those last few steps towards the other. So instead, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kicks at the ground casually.
“Hey,” he says, watching Jacob’s prone form for any sign of recognition.
He’s not surprised when Jacob doesn’t move. Paul resists the urge to run away and instead crosses the last few feet between them. Only then does Jacob sigh and pick his head up slightly, so that he’s looking up at Paul through his eyelashes and really, it shouldn’t be legal for a sixteen-year-old to be that beautiful.
“Bella’s gone,” he says, and his voice is too quiet, too broken. “She’s gone after him.”
I know, Paul wants to say, but instead he stays quiet, crouches down so that Jacob can hang his head again if he wants to. But no, Jacob keeps watching him, eyes dark like the night sky.
“I begged her,” he continues, “Begged her not to go.”
It’s fitting, really, that when he can finally classify the rolling feeling in his gut, it flashes back to anger. What has she done, after all, to steal this boy’s heart away? She’d come and smiled and stolen what she didn’t even really want. It wasn’t fair and-
“What did you even see in her in the first place?” he finally blurts out, and no, he convinces himself that he’s not bitter; he’s just so mad he’s shaking.
“What do you mean?” Jacob asks, slowly, like Paul’s asked something dangerous.
“She’s selfish and greedy, and she loved that bloodsucker Cullen and only started leading you on because Pretty-Boy ditched her-”
“Shut up!” Jacob says and he’s standing now, towering over Paul where he’s still crouching on the floor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, ok Paul? You don’t. So stop.”
Paul wants to yell, wants to scream at him and maybe even punch him square in the jaw or attack him with his claws and teeth like they’d done not even a week ago, but instead, he stares at the floor and says quietly, “So tell me.”
He doesn’t look up again until he hears Jake sigh; he’s sitting down by then, so Paul gets up and takes a seat beside him.
“It’s complicated,” he finally says, frowning at his hands. “I love her. I do. She feels like part of my pack, and I hate that she keeps going back to that-that vampire. But-I don’t know. I haven’t imprinted on her or anything.”
And that’s news to Paul; he’s thought with all Jacob’s brooding and mooning over Bella, he’d been rejected by his imprintee. That he hasn’t loosens something coiled tight and tense somewhere around Paul’s ribcage. He remembers how to breathe again.
“Oh,” he says. “I thought-”
But he stops himself, because he doesn’t want to tell Jacob what he’d thought; doesn’t want to admit that there’s something in the world he wants and can’t have. He thinks back to Rachel, hands on her hips and you’ve always been opportunistic, right?
And then he gets it.
Jake’s gone back to quietly sulking by then, and Paul spares a moment to think about how he really is some kind of idiot if it took him this long to understand what he’s feeling. Then he takes a deep breath and bumps his side into Jake’s, the other boy looks up sharply in response.
“I’m glad she left,” he says quietly, searching Jake’s eyes for even a shadow of what’s lurking inside Paul’s heart. “She didn’t deserve you.”
Jake does that little half-smile thing he does when he doesn’t really understand, his sharp canines glinting in the afternoon sunlight, and Paul’s breath (embarrassingly) catches in his throat.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“Do I really need to explain it?” Paul answers.
So, just in case he really does need to explain it, he closes the distance between them and before he can think himself out of it, he’s kissing him. It’s light and chaste and before Jake even has a chance to relax, Paul’s pulled away slightly, pressing their foreheads together and keeping his eyes shut tight.
“She doesn’t deserve you,” he says again.
He stays like that for a moment, just feeling the way Jake breathes next to him, imprinting the feel of Jake’s warmth into his brain. He pulls away and for a split second he feels the world crumbling around him, but then Jake’s hand is around his neck, warm and solid and holding him close.
“And you think you do?” Jake asks, and despite how bitter the words may sound, he says them tenderly, almost curiously.
Yes, Paul wants to say, except, no. Not really. He doesn’t. So instead, he pushes their lips together again, and this time, Jake opens up to him, licks his way into Paul’s mouth and he can feel Jacob’s suffering then, as if their mind-reading was intensified. And ok, his heart breaks a little in response, so he brings a hand up and buries it into Jake’s short hair, gripping a handful and tugging until Jake’s positioned to a better angle. He thinks I’ll never hurt you and hopes like Hell Jake can hear that thought.
And maybe he can because Jake makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and just like that the kiss deepens, turns into something more desperate and complex and soon Paul’s lost in the slide of their tongues as he maps out the inside of Jake’s mouth.
Suddenly that’s not enough at all and when they finally pull apart, gasping for breath, Paul wraps his hand around Jake’s wrist and tugs him up. Jake’s confused for all of two seconds before his eyes cloud over again with heat and lust and want, and soon he’s backed Paul up into the skeleton of some beat up car, hands gripping his hips so hard he’s sure he’ll find bruises there later on tonight and then they’re kissing again, hot and wet and fuck Paul can’t help it; he groans deep in the back of his throat and lifts his hips in a desperate search for friction. He feels the taut lines of Jake above him, all around him, and fuck, he can’t even think of a way to describe it. Jake grinds down against him and slides a knee in between his legs and really, Paul can’t think much at all after that.
“Jake, fuck,” he manages to pant, and the only response he gets is Jake’s mouth smirking against his skin and leaving a wet trail down his jaw and neck as he marks the skin with his lips and tongue and teeth.
He gets as far as Paul’s collarbone before Paul has to yank him back up and claim that mouth again as his own. He realizes then that he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he does the only thing he can think of doing at that moment; he fumbles for the zipper on Jake’s jeans and somehow manages to get them undone even with the way Jake’s been moving up against him. Jake makes a strangled gasp above him, his hips stuttering out of their steady rhythm, and then he’s in Paul’s hands, hard and vulnerable and utterly perfect. He squeezes once experimentally, and Jake’s moan comes from deep inside his chest, so he does it again before he strokes all along the length of Jake’s cock, loving the sounds he makes when Paul bites just under his ear and adds a twist of his wrist when he gets to the tip again.
“Paul,” Jake gasps out then, one hand abandoning its vice-like grip on his hipbone and palming him through his jeans.
“Yes, fuck anything Jake,” he answers, writhing underneath him as Jake slowly, painstakingly, frees him from his jeans and boxers.
He bucks up into Jake’s grip, and that’s when Jake does something wicked with his hands and his vision starts to blur a little around the edges, until all he can see clearly are Jake’s eyes, the way the pupils are blown so wide with want that they’ve nearly overtaken the brown of his iris. It only takes a few more minutes after that, of bucking and pumping and open-mouthed kisses before Paul’s coming, shutting his eyes and biting the muscle of Jake’s shoulder so hard he draws blood. Something warm and wet shoots into Paul’s hand seconds later, while he’s still riding out his aftershocks, and he feels Jake’s body tense impossibly taut above him before he slumps up against Paul, the hot breath tickling his jaw.
When Paul thinks he’s got enough breath left in him to speak, all he can manage to say is:
“Fuck.”
Jake chuckles softly in response. His arms have somehow found their way to the small of Paul’s back, hands roaming carelessly across the expanse of his skin. Paul shivers.
“Yeah,” Jake agrees, and even though he’s got his head buried in Paul’s neck, he can hear the self-satisfied smirk in Jake’s voice.
He tries to frown, but can’t quite get the muscles in his face to stop grinning, so instead he pushes at Jake’s shoulders reluctantly.
“This thing is damn uncomfortable,” he says, motioning with his head to the gnarled heap of metal that’s holding them up.
Jake smiles at him, really happy for the first time since Bella moved back into town, and Paul thinks he feels his heart stop.
“Next time, we’ll find somewhere more comfortable,” he says, and it sounds so much like a promise that Paul can’t help but grin back in response.
“Next time?” he asks, because for all his machismo, there’s just something about Jacob that leaves him stripped bare.
Jake quirks an eyebrow at him and takes a step back, wiping his hand on the side of his jeans as he goes.
“Yeah.”
Paul echoes the movement and takes a deep breath.
“Okay,” he says, and smiles. And then, “Come on, I want to see the looks on everyone’s faces after listening to that.”
The horrified look that crosses Jake’s face is enough to send Paul into a fit of laughter that ends only when Jake’s horror melts away into a bemused sort of smile.
They head off in the general direction of the res, walking so close that their shoulders bump every now and then. And they never do find the rest of the pack, but that doesn’t bother them too much. They’ve got better things to do anyway.
Paul’s more than a little proud of himself when Jake doesn’t mention Bella once that night.
Or the night after that.
Title: Opportunist
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: slash? I'm pretty sure there are vague spoilers for Twilight and New Moon in here too.
Summary/Prompt: Jacob is emotionally vulnerable after Bella leaves for Italy and Paul is an opportunist.
He can either be really obsessed with Jacob prior to or he could only be using Jacob for his body. Writer's choice!
More Author's notes: Um, i'm not really sure how this whole !kinkmeme thing works, so if I screwed up royally, I'm sorry in advance. Also, this ended up having more sap and cuteness than I origionally intended, but I guess it sort of worked.
***
***
Paul waits for Jake in his house, eating the food Rachel’s set out for all of them, the pack, and tries to get his anger under control. It’s not fair, he thinks, and savagely rips a chunk of bread apart. Bella was never around, ever, and a year goes by and suddenly she knows everything and talks to them like she knows what’s best for Jacob when it’s been him, Paul, who’s helped him get over the fact that wow, I’m a werewolf, and did he mention that it’s just not fair?
Rachel comes in then, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like some sort of waterfall. He isn’t wearing a shirt, like always, and when she catches sight of him her eyes wander down his chest before meeting his eyes and smiling. He wishes then that he really had imprinted on her; it would have made his life so much easier. She smiles at him sadly and leans against the kitchen counter, watching him with impossibly large eyes-Jacob’s got the same kind, all wide and trusting and honest, and that doesn’t help with his mood at all.
“She left,” Rachel says slowly, like it’s supposed to have some kind of significance to him.
“Good,” Paul answers, looking down at the table and moving crumbs around with his pointer. “I hope those leeches bleed her dry.”
“You’re an idiot Paul, you know that?”
His head snaps up at that, anger flooding him so quickly it nearly makes him dizzy.
“What?”
She does something with her hair and a pencil that’s lying on the counter, makes it so that the waterfall becomes just a tight knot on the back of her head and fixes him with a glare, heedless of his simmering rage.
“Bella’s gone,” she says again, as if he hadn’t heard her. “That means Jacob’s alone.”
“So?”
“So, you’ve always been opportunistic, right?”
She looks at him for a while, just looks and looks and looks, and really, why should he care? At least maybe now Jake will see that she’s a lost cause or something. See that all she really wants is a pale, skinny, dark-haired blood sucker and if he knew what was good for him, he’d forget about her and-
“You really don’t get it do you?” she asks, still looking at him, and really, Paul’s moody and irritable at the best of times, and today is most certainly not one of those times. She sighs again, as if she can hear his thoughts. “Look, just go talk to him or something.”
“Why?”
“Do you really need me to give you a reason?” she shoots back, incredulous. “Fine: if you sit around here sulking you’re just going to end up tearing the kitchen apart. And he needs you right now.”
Paul looks away at that, hard anger melting away into something softer in his stomach.
“You can’t know that,” he says quietly.
“Well I do,” she answers and raises her chin in a gesture of disdain. “I’m his older sister. We’re supposed to know everything about our little brothers. Look,” and when she says it this time, her voice wavers a little, makes Paul face her again. Small, tight lines have begun to form on her forehead and around the corners of her mouth; he wonders if it’s not worry over Jacob that’s starting to age her. “Just trust me, ok? Go talk to him.”
He blinks, and spares a moment to wonder why he couldn’t just want someone less complicated, with fewer principles and less heartfelt integrity, someone who didn’t know a girl named Bella, preferably. Maybe even a girl. Then he sighs, runs a hand through his hair and gets up quickly.
He doesn’t say a word to Rachel, but by the way she smiles at him as he snaps the backdoor shut when he rushes out, he knows she understands.
He finds Jacob sitting in that junk house he uses as his workroom, sitting on a wooden bench with his head in his hands. Something clenches in his chest painfully, and now that he’s here, he can’t quite find the strength to walk those last few steps towards the other. So instead, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and kicks at the ground casually.
“Hey,” he says, watching Jacob’s prone form for any sign of recognition.
He’s not surprised when Jacob doesn’t move. Paul resists the urge to run away and instead crosses the last few feet between them. Only then does Jacob sigh and pick his head up slightly, so that he’s looking up at Paul through his eyelashes and really, it shouldn’t be legal for a sixteen-year-old to be that beautiful.
“Bella’s gone,” he says, and his voice is too quiet, too broken. “She’s gone after him.”
I know, Paul wants to say, but instead he stays quiet, crouches down so that Jacob can hang his head again if he wants to. But no, Jacob keeps watching him, eyes dark like the night sky.
“I begged her,” he continues, “Begged her not to go.”
It’s fitting, really, that when he can finally classify the rolling feeling in his gut, it flashes back to anger. What has she done, after all, to steal this boy’s heart away? She’d come and smiled and stolen what she didn’t even really want. It wasn’t fair and-
“What did you even see in her in the first place?” he finally blurts out, and no, he convinces himself that he’s not bitter; he’s just so mad he’s shaking.
“What do you mean?” Jacob asks, slowly, like Paul’s asked something dangerous.
“She’s selfish and greedy, and she loved that bloodsucker Cullen and only started leading you on because Pretty-Boy ditched her-”
“Shut up!” Jacob says and he’s standing now, towering over Paul where he’s still crouching on the floor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, ok Paul? You don’t. So stop.”
Paul wants to yell, wants to scream at him and maybe even punch him square in the jaw or attack him with his claws and teeth like they’d done not even a week ago, but instead, he stares at the floor and says quietly, “So tell me.”
He doesn’t look up again until he hears Jake sigh; he’s sitting down by then, so Paul gets up and takes a seat beside him.
“It’s complicated,” he finally says, frowning at his hands. “I love her. I do. She feels like part of my pack, and I hate that she keeps going back to that-that vampire. But-I don’t know. I haven’t imprinted on her or anything.”
And that’s news to Paul; he’s thought with all Jacob’s brooding and mooning over Bella, he’d been rejected by his imprintee. That he hasn’t loosens something coiled tight and tense somewhere around Paul’s ribcage. He remembers how to breathe again.
“Oh,” he says. “I thought-”
But he stops himself, because he doesn’t want to tell Jacob what he’d thought; doesn’t want to admit that there’s something in the world he wants and can’t have. He thinks back to Rachel, hands on her hips and you’ve always been opportunistic, right?
And then he gets it.
Jake’s gone back to quietly sulking by then, and Paul spares a moment to think about how he really is some kind of idiot if it took him this long to understand what he’s feeling. Then he takes a deep breath and bumps his side into Jake’s, the other boy looks up sharply in response.
“I’m glad she left,” he says quietly, searching Jake’s eyes for even a shadow of what’s lurking inside Paul’s heart. “She didn’t deserve you.”
Jake does that little half-smile thing he does when he doesn’t really understand, his sharp canines glinting in the afternoon sunlight, and Paul’s breath (embarrassingly) catches in his throat.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“Do I really need to explain it?” Paul answers.
So, just in case he really does need to explain it, he closes the distance between them and before he can think himself out of it, he’s kissing him. It’s light and chaste and before Jake even has a chance to relax, Paul’s pulled away slightly, pressing their foreheads together and keeping his eyes shut tight.
“She doesn’t deserve you,” he says again.
He stays like that for a moment, just feeling the way Jake breathes next to him, imprinting the feel of Jake’s warmth into his brain. He pulls away and for a split second he feels the world crumbling around him, but then Jake’s hand is around his neck, warm and solid and holding him close.
“And you think you do?” Jake asks, and despite how bitter the words may sound, he says them tenderly, almost curiously.
Yes, Paul wants to say, except, no. Not really. He doesn’t. So instead, he pushes their lips together again, and this time, Jake opens up to him, licks his way into Paul’s mouth and he can feel Jacob’s suffering then, as if their mind-reading was intensified. And ok, his heart breaks a little in response, so he brings a hand up and buries it into Jake’s short hair, gripping a handful and tugging until Jake’s positioned to a better angle. He thinks I’ll never hurt you and hopes like Hell Jake can hear that thought.
And maybe he can because Jake makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and just like that the kiss deepens, turns into something more desperate and complex and soon Paul’s lost in the slide of their tongues as he maps out the inside of Jake’s mouth.
Suddenly that’s not enough at all and when they finally pull apart, gasping for breath, Paul wraps his hand around Jake’s wrist and tugs him up. Jake’s confused for all of two seconds before his eyes cloud over again with heat and lust and want, and soon he’s backed Paul up into the skeleton of some beat up car, hands gripping his hips so hard he’s sure he’ll find bruises there later on tonight and then they’re kissing again, hot and wet and fuck Paul can’t help it; he groans deep in the back of his throat and lifts his hips in a desperate search for friction. He feels the taut lines of Jake above him, all around him, and fuck, he can’t even think of a way to describe it. Jake grinds down against him and slides a knee in between his legs and really, Paul can’t think much at all after that.
“Jake, fuck,” he manages to pant, and the only response he gets is Jake’s mouth smirking against his skin and leaving a wet trail down his jaw and neck as he marks the skin with his lips and tongue and teeth.
He gets as far as Paul’s collarbone before Paul has to yank him back up and claim that mouth again as his own. He realizes then that he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he does the only thing he can think of doing at that moment; he fumbles for the zipper on Jake’s jeans and somehow manages to get them undone even with the way Jake’s been moving up against him. Jake makes a strangled gasp above him, his hips stuttering out of their steady rhythm, and then he’s in Paul’s hands, hard and vulnerable and utterly perfect. He squeezes once experimentally, and Jake’s moan comes from deep inside his chest, so he does it again before he strokes all along the length of Jake’s cock, loving the sounds he makes when Paul bites just under his ear and adds a twist of his wrist when he gets to the tip again.
“Paul,” Jake gasps out then, one hand abandoning its vice-like grip on his hipbone and palming him through his jeans.
“Yes, fuck anything Jake,” he answers, writhing underneath him as Jake slowly, painstakingly, frees him from his jeans and boxers.
He bucks up into Jake’s grip, and that’s when Jake does something wicked with his hands and his vision starts to blur a little around the edges, until all he can see clearly are Jake’s eyes, the way the pupils are blown so wide with want that they’ve nearly overtaken the brown of his iris. It only takes a few more minutes after that, of bucking and pumping and open-mouthed kisses before Paul’s coming, shutting his eyes and biting the muscle of Jake’s shoulder so hard he draws blood. Something warm and wet shoots into Paul’s hand seconds later, while he’s still riding out his aftershocks, and he feels Jake’s body tense impossibly taut above him before he slumps up against Paul, the hot breath tickling his jaw.
When Paul thinks he’s got enough breath left in him to speak, all he can manage to say is:
“Fuck.”
Jake chuckles softly in response. His arms have somehow found their way to the small of Paul’s back, hands roaming carelessly across the expanse of his skin. Paul shivers.
“Yeah,” Jake agrees, and even though he’s got his head buried in Paul’s neck, he can hear the self-satisfied smirk in Jake’s voice.
He tries to frown, but can’t quite get the muscles in his face to stop grinning, so instead he pushes at Jake’s shoulders reluctantly.
“This thing is damn uncomfortable,” he says, motioning with his head to the gnarled heap of metal that’s holding them up.
Jake smiles at him, really happy for the first time since Bella moved back into town, and Paul thinks he feels his heart stop.
“Next time, we’ll find somewhere more comfortable,” he says, and it sounds so much like a promise that Paul can’t help but grin back in response.
“Next time?” he asks, because for all his machismo, there’s just something about Jacob that leaves him stripped bare.
Jake quirks an eyebrow at him and takes a step back, wiping his hand on the side of his jeans as he goes.
“Yeah.”
Paul echoes the movement and takes a deep breath.
“Okay,” he says, and smiles. And then, “Come on, I want to see the looks on everyone’s faces after listening to that.”
The horrified look that crosses Jake’s face is enough to send Paul into a fit of laughter that ends only when Jake’s horror melts away into a bemused sort of smile.
They head off in the general direction of the res, walking so close that their shoulders bump every now and then. And they never do find the rest of the pack, but that doesn’t bother them too much. They’ve got better things to do anyway.
Paul’s more than a little proud of himself when Jake doesn’t mention Bella once that night.
Or the night after that.