I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THIS PLEASE DONT SUE ME
In Which There is a Concession
i love the temperature and smell of your body
the shape of your lips and the size of your nose
i love that everything you say is so funny
plus, you're the best kisser that i've ever known
- shakira, something
-
I flipped over onto my stomach, buried my face into Jake's neck and inhaled deeply, the smell of forests and autumn and maple syrup and something slightly animalistic that lingered on the edges overwhelming me. I kissed the junction between his neck and shoulder gently and felt him tense under me, but he didn't stop me.
"You smell really good too," I told him quietly, knowing he would hear. "Sometimes I can't even hug you without getting lightheaded. I love to cook for you and clean your room and wash your clothes and I don't know why, but it makes me feel good. I think one of the major reasons I go barefoot most of the time is because you do and I grew up wanting to be exactly like you."
I kissed the side of his neck gently and Jacob tensed under me again. I felt the fingers that had previously been resting against my waist curl into a fist at the small of my back.
"I have absolutely no idea why you think I'm smarter than you, since you teach me new things everyday, but I obviously trust your decisions. If you told me to jump from a plane without a parachute and promised I'd be okay, I'd do it, no questions asked. I don't let Emmett kill baby bears because it's wrong but also because if you look too quickly, bears look a lot like wolves and I wouldn't be able to stand that."
I reached up a little further, my fingers twisting in Jacob's t-shirt, and kissed the underside of his jaw. He inhaled sharply.
"I perk up every time someone mentions wolves because it reminds me of you and you're my favorite subject. I love you as hard as I can, and sometimes it feels like my heart just might explode from it, but it will never be as much as you deserve. I forgive you every time you make me cry, because most of the time it wasn't even you anyway, just me overreacting over something stupid."
I didn't know where my eloquence was coming from, and I wasn't going to question it. I had relied for too long on using my gift, I wasn't used to verbally expressing to people how I felt. But this was so natural, simple truths, easy as breathing. Like loving Jake.
I stretched up as far as I could and pressed a kiss to the very corner of Jacob's mouth, his lips taunting me from mere millimeters away.
"And if I'm anywhere near perfect it's because for the entire seven years of my life I've been copying you."
Jacob's arm tightened around my waist and before I knew it, he had pulled me half on top of him. My right leg fell into the space between his and my hands gripped his shoulders to steady myself. Our faces were only inches apart and Jacob lifted his head further, until his nose slid past mine, until our lips were millimeters from touching.
"Can I kiss you, Nessie?"
I wanted to. Oh, God, more than anything else in the world I wanted to. But I had to do something else first.
"Why do you always ask, Jacob?"
"Because I have to be sure," he panted, his eyes darkening a little but still warm. "I have to be sure you want it too because if I ever made you push me away it would hurt too much."
"Take this as perpetual permission," I granted, my eyes feeling a little wet at his honesty. "You can kiss me whenever you want. In public, in private, while I'm asleep or awake, it doesn't matter. Just find me. Just find me, Jacob, and I'll kiss you breathless."
Jacob's eyes got darker and I saw his neck straining as he tried to lift his head further, but he couldn't. He was waiting for me to come to him now.
"Come here then," he whispered, and my spine shivered at his tone.
I leaned forward slowly, trying to tease him like he did me, but I doubt it worked because I was too eager. I couldn't wait too long. Jacob's let his head fall back against the pillows as I began to lean in, and I realized this time when I bit my lip since he had just mentioned it. I guess I did it more than I thought.
I gave Jacob a large, slow smile when our lips were almost brushing. He could have lifted his head and captured my lips now, but he didn't. I don't think I could have ever got tired of watching his face when he looked like that.
"Can I kiss you, Jacob?" I asked, teasing.
"Damn it, Nessie," he swore, but he stayed where he was.
I closed the final inch and then my lips were on Jacob's again. He wasted no time parting his lips under mine and running his tongue along the crease of my lips, begging for entrance. I consented, and once again had my head sent spinning by the taste of him.
My arms were trapped between us and I pulled them free, resting them on either side of Jacob's head. My weight fell completely on him and I could feel the heat from his body easily through the two layers that separated us.
I felt my shirt ride up on my back as I pushed myself further up Jacob's body, felt the cool sheets press against my skin. I tried to push myself harder into Jake, wanting to feel my entire body against his, but I was too short and not strong enough. I wanted to feel his weight on me, hot and strong, pressed up against me like earlier outside of the restaurant. I didn't weigh enough to apply enough pressure.
I started trying to slide off Jacob's body, to the side, while I stayed connected with his lips. Always the worrier, I think Jake assumed I was trying to get away, because he pulled back.
"Turn over," I said quickly, before he could say anything about going too far or taking advantage or stopping. "It's more comfortable."
He looked a little wary, like he didn't believe me.
"I – I'm not too heavy?" He asked, his hands on my waist keeping me from turning us myself. "I'm always afraid I'll hurt you."
"No," I said, shaking my head and trying to urge him with my body to roll over. "I – I like it. You're so big and warm and – and not too heavy."
I leant down and kissed him deeply and I didn't have to ask again. He rolled us until I was pressed against him exactly like I wanted to be. He weighed much more than me, so he pressed into me harder and it was so much better. I parted my legs slightly to give him a place to lay and a jolt rocketed through me.
Jacob's hand rested low on my waist now and when he moved his fingers, they brushed the exposed skin there. I gasped into his mouth and he pulled away and I knew what he was going to say before he said it.
"I think we need to stop, Nessie," he whispered into my lips. I caught his in another kiss before he continued, "Slow, remember?"
"Slow, Jacob," I told him emphatically, reaching up a little to kiss his jaw. "Not stop, just slow – that's what you said."
"Yeah, but I think we just . . . ." He cut himself off by kissing me again and I smirked when I saw that I was winning. ". . . it's just . . . slow and . . . "
"Slow," I agreed, nodding and pulling him back down on me. I kissed him softly and gently, toned down the urgency as best I could. "Slow."
Jacob seemed to agree, and continued to kiss me, slow and deep kisses that were almost as good as the fierce ones. We stayed like this for awhile, but the desire in my stomach built steadily, like a stoked fire, until it was worse than before.
I reached down slowly to place my hand over the one of Jacob's that rested low on my waist, just above my hips. I gently guided his hand up, over the fabric, until his fingers were resting lightly against the very top of my ribcage, inches from my goal.
Just as I was preparing to shift his fingers the final inch, he pulled back away.
"Nessie – "
"It's what I want," I said firmly, not backing down from the sternness in his gaze. "You've already done it, so I don't – "
"I've already smoked, too," he returned, not backing down either and I shivered despite myself. "But you made me stop."
That analogy stung. Jacob was comparing touching me to smoking? To something that gave you cancer and emphysema and . . . and hurt you. Something that was bad for you. Was I bad for Jacob?
My voice wasn't firm or angry or anything but hurt when I said, "Is touching me going to make you sick, Jacob?"
Jacob's eyes widened and I think he realized how his words had sounded. I felt a little better knowing he hadn't meant it like that.
"No – Nessie, I – " He cut himself off again to kiss me, but my lips weren't as pliable under his as usual and I know he felt it. "That's not how I meant – I would never – you don't know how bad I want to touch you, but – "
"Then why don't you?"
His fingers tightened along my very top rib and I inhaled sharply, unable to stop myself.
"Because I'm afraid I won't be able to stop."
At first I didn't understand. What would be wrong with not being able to stop touching me? But then I remembered, of all the things to remember, the disgusting man from our first night in California. I remembered peeking through my parents' bedroom door that night years ago. And I remembered lust, and what the driving force behind it was, the reason it existed.
Sex.
I don't know why it – it never occurred to me before. I knew what sex was, obviously, had had that talk years ago. I guess what Jacob said was right: for a smart girl, I was pretty dumb. I always missed the big picture. I had to get it piece at a time until finally I understood, months too late.
That was what my body was reaching for, working towards. The thing I wanted but didn't understand. I knew how men's bodies worked, and women's too, and how they worked together but I never really thought about it beyond that. I had never applied it to myself, or to Jacob. Even when mention of the Volturi came up, and whether or not I was fertile and I imagined myself holding black-haired, toffee-skinned children I didn't think of it like that. I was too preoccupied with the end result to think about the means.
I remembered Jacob that morning in the bathroom, and was confused. I thought I understood, but now my understanding was muddled. How did . . . that help? Did it work that way for girls too? And what was the purpose of it – I mean, I knew sex was pleasurable, but the main purpose of it was to procreate.
I never realized how sheltered I had been until then. I felt very, very young.
So did I want to . . . have sex with Jacob? I mean, my body obviously wanted to and . . . and that's what people who loved each other did. I had known, intellectually, that sex was supposed to be pleasurable, but when it was explained to me years ago it just seemed invasive. How could you want someone that close? Literally connected to you, a part of you, as close as it was possible to get? I thought of it for the first time in a personal way, focusing on the emotions and not the technicalities.
I imagined myself and Jacob, naked, under these very sheets. Our bodies moving together like my parents' had. I imagined having Jacob that close, a part of me. I imagined myself in the position I had seen my mother in, not like an outsider, but like I was there. I imagined Jacob above me, closer than close, as intimate as it was possible to be. A thrill ran through me.
I wanted it.
Not now, not tomorrow, not when I had just figured it out. But I did want it, one day.
And Jake wanted it too?
I knew Jacob loved me as much as it was possible to love someone, but it was still hard to wrap my head around. I was . . . touched, flattered that Jacob wanted to be that close to me. That he wanted and loved me that much. And that he was holding himself back because he was scared of hurting me.
I thought about how much pleasure I drew simply from kissing his lips, but what if I could kiss all of him? A simple touch from Jacob was enough to send my head spinning with desire, but what if he could touch all of me? As amazing as it was to have Jacob pressed against me like this, with only two thin layers separating us, how much more amazing would it be if nothing was? If there were no barriers?
And just because I wasn't quite ready to . . . to have sex with him yet, that didn't mean we couldn't . . . do something. Didn't most people work their way slowly up? I knew, as much as Jacob may be worried about not being able to stop, that he would. He would if I asked him to. He would never force me.
The question was, would I be strong enough to ask? Because even now, as I thought about it, and knew logically that I wasn't ready for that final step, I still wanted more. How did you balance it out?
"Nessie?" I heard Jacob say, snapping me out of my reverie. "I'm sorry if I – scared you – "
"No," I told him, shaking my head fervently. "I was just . . . figuring some things out."
I felt the hand of Jacob's that was under mine attempt to pull away but I pressed quickly down, holding it there.
"Nessie – '
"I trust you, Jacob," I told him seriously, making sure he was looking directly in my face so he couldn't doubt me. "I know you would never force me, and you need to start trusting yourself. I know you would stop if I asked you to."
"Of course not, Ness, I would never – I couldn't – "
"I know that," I told him, leaning up to kiss his lips once softly before pulling back. "But you don't seem to."
"I just can't take any chances with you," he whispered, letting his head fall forward and his hair fell around us again. "Sound familiar?"
"You're right, Jacob," I said, a little nervously. "I'm not ready for . . . that yet, but I still . . . I still want to be close to you."
"I'm always close to you, Nessie," Jacob promised and kissed me again. I liked these kisses, soft and casual, comfortable. "We don't have to . . . prove that, or . . . anything."
"I'm not trying to prove anything," I said. "I'm – I just . . . I want to kiss you, and touch you, and I know . . . you said it yourself that you . . . you want to touch me too. So, slow, right?"
"But why are you suddenly so adamant about this . . . in particular?"
I shook my head and shrugged a little, the movement muted under his weight. "I – it feels good, and right, and you . . . you want to too, even though you're trying to pretend you don't."
Jacob seemed a little surprised about something in my sentence, but I didn't know what it was until he spoke.
"So it . . . it feels good for you when I . . . touch you there?"
My eyes widened in amazement. How could he think it didn't?
"Yes," I said breathlessly.
"You're not just pushing it because . . . because you think it's what I want?"
Oh, my Jacob. My sweet Jacob.
"The fact that you want to touch me too is just a really amazing bonus," I said honestly, kissing him again. I would never get tired of his lips. I sighed against them. "I can't force you, Jake. I won't push you anymore, I just . . . just know that I want it too, more than anything."
I expected him to nod, roll off of me and pull me into his chest. I expected him to say we needed to sleep, which we did, because we hadn't in a while and even then, it wasn't for long. I expected him to take me up on my offer to stop.
But he didn't. He leant back in and continued kissing me softly, picking up where we left off as though our conversation never occurred. I could taste him better like this, when the kisses were slow and deep. I could concentrate on the shape of his mouth and his teeth and his tongue and the way his body felt against mine, how I could feel every muscle in his chest and stomach. Jacob's hand slid out from under mine and to the side, then up until the sides of his fingers were just barely brushing me.
My heartbeat picked up and desire flared in my stomach. Then Jacob slid his hand over and he was exactly where I wanted him. I gasped a little into his mouth at the heat, and the . . . closeness that wasn't there before because of the second layer. He squeezed gently and moaned into my mouth in surprise, and I knew he could tell my skin had given too easily under his.
I made the almost-whining-sound when he pulled back.
"You're not – you're not wearing – "
"Is that okay?" I asked breathlessly. I was so glad to finally have my way, I didn't want to push too far. And I didn't want to stop.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes," I promised, nodding fervently and straining up to kiss him, which he let me do. "Better than okay."
He nodded a few times like he was trying to convince himself before he leaned back in and recaptured my lips. Jacob moved his hand slowly across my breast, barely applying pressure, but I felt my body react to the heat of his hand anyway and I blushed despite myself. He inhaled a little sharply and I knew he had felt me harden against him. Was that a normal reaction?
Then his thumb swept across the very center of my breast and I didn't care. My body arched against Jacob and I pushed myself into him as hard as I could and there was no denying it this time, I whined. Jacob's breathing was starting to become uneven and he let more of his weight drop onto me, pressing into me harder. One of my legs crept, of its own accord, up the side of Jacob's and around, using it to pull him closer.
He slid his thumb across me again, harder this time, a little experimentally, as though to see if he would get the same reaction the second time. He did. I arched my back into his hand and without meaning to, bit down hard on his lip. I was immediately horrified with myself, but Jacob's only reaction was to exhale sharply into my mouth and kiss me harder so I guess I hadn't hurt him too badly. I let my tongue follow along the place I had bitten, trying to sooth the hurt and was jolted by the taste.
I hadn't tasted it in years, but I had by no means forgotten it: Jacob's blood. Before I could stop myself, I had pulled his lip gently between mine and began to suck. It was strange – it didn't taste good in the normal way, the way elk did, nourishing. It was just . . . Jacob.
Jacob massaged my breast harder and moaned into my mouth and I literally couldn't stop. After a few seconds, though, I forced myself to. Jake look confused as I pulled back and pressed a finger against his lips, his eyes clouded with lust. I knew the feeling.
"Let it heal," I whispered byway of explanation, and ran my finger gently against the rapidly healing wound. "I can't – your blood tastes – too good, I – "
Jacob's tongue darted out to feel across his lip, brushing my finger in the process and I was forced to bite my own lip to keep an embarrassing sound from escaping. Another one, at least.
"I . . . don't mind," he said, a little hesitantly, after a few seconds. "If you – if you like it, I don't mind."
Was Jacob giving me permission to bite him? Like I did when I was younger, bite him and drink his blood? It was the same now as it was then – I didn't bite him from thirst, but because he was mine. I remember biting him when I won an argument or wrestling match (only now did I realize he let me win), or caught the biggest elk, to prove a point. To mark my territory. I'd felt very possessive of Jacob, even then.
"Another night," I whispered, and leaned up to kiss his lips experimentally. I ran my tongue along the place where the wound was and was both relieved and disappointed to find it sealed, though I could still taste the lingering vestiges of iron and salt. "I'm a little preoccupied with this right now. Sorry for biting you."
"I liked it," Jacob confessed.
Then his lips were on mine and I couldn't reply. Not that I tried that hard.
Coming up:
"This helps," he said gruffly, and pulled me a little tighter, making my back arch in order to be closer, bow against him. "You don't know how much this helps."
I wanted to believe him. Jacob brought me comfort simply by his presence, so maybe I did that for him too. I hoped I did.
I tried to put myself in Jacob's situation, to pretend I was him. What would I want? If I had just lost my father, what would be the only possible thing that could make me feel better? Make me forget for even a few seconds?
And then I knew. Once again, so simple that I missed it.