There are a lot of people who kind of resent Stephenie Meyer for giving everyone a happy ending except for Leah Clearwater. I am not one of them. I think its one of the few smart things the woman did with her series, even if she didn't intend it to be.

Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga does not belong to me. If it did I'd be filthy rich and wouldn't be bothering with this stuff.

Warnings: Here be smut before you. So if good, clean sideways tangoing of the hetero kind offends your gentle sensibilities I suggest you leave now before somebody gets hurt. There's some bad words, too.

Acknowledgments: I have to thank Porcelain and the Tramps (myspace com /rockcitynosebleed, trig com /porcelainandthetramps, check her out now people) for providing me with an awesome soundtrack to write this to, and also some inspiration. I also have to thank anyone who has ever said viewing the Twilight saga as inherently misogynistic is "reading too much into it." Such lack of critical thinking is what motivated me to complete this fic in a single day, so if anyone's got a problem, then you could take it up with them because they're the ones responsible.

Peace, and enjoy.


Grinding guitars and a thumping, powerful bass that seemed to rattle the whole room and slam into every beating heart in the club did little to faze Leah as she stepped through the crowd. The heat that caused sweat to soak through unwashed hair and stiff vinyl created a thick human stench that made her nose crinkle as she walked in, but she had since adjusted. Leah did not sweat, her eardrums did not ache at the pounding noise, but her skinny black jeans, her fuck-you four-inch leather boots and her short, jagged haircut didn't stand out in this crowd even if her impressive stature did. She let the beat crawl up through her feet, the raspy voice of the singer into her head, and finally the sway of the crowd to take her back and forth and forward as they chanted and danced.

The force and energy of the crowd came at her from all sides while the music raged around her and through her. This is what got Leah off these days, it didn't compare to running through the woods on all fours, of course, but it was something she could do as a human and lose herself in. Even if it didn't effect her the way it did the people around her, it still seemed to vibrate her cells until she felt new and refreshed, like she had been purged.

Leah had tried a lot of things to try to cure her restless energy, to have the feeling of all her chaotic thoughts flowing in one direction again. Exercise didn't help - it never burned, it never tired her. She had tried getting a tattoo even, and while the pain was satisfying during the moment, her skin flushed out the ink from her pores within a few hours and she had nothing to show for it.

There was always sex, of course. This - this dancing and singing and feeling violent and full with song - was like sex, in its all encompassing, overwhelming energy. But sex led to awkward mornings after, particularly when there were several men who were privy to her thoughts and memories, one of which being her little brother. It was a shame, because sex was a good fix when none of her favorite bands were in the area. It wasn't imprinting, it wasn't a soul that would tether her in a warm embrace to the end of her days, but it made her feel full and stirred and unabashedly human for an evening or more, intoxicated in a way that she hadn't been in a long while.

It also makes you do stupid things. The thought almost snapped her out of her trance, and she found herself staring blankly at the flailing bodies around her.

"Stupid," she mumbled aloud, her voice drowned out by the song. Was it really so stupid? How could she call those dark brown eyes and smooth, bronze skin stupid? The way her arms shaped around his shoulders as he lifted her - as he had -

Leah's eyes scanned the crowd for something else now. It was not good to be thinking these things in a room packed with men, many of them well-shaped and glossy with sweat. Some of them even had long dark hair, but it wasn't shining like his, and none of them had the sharp cheekbones and the sedate, contemplative eyes.

The music was changing tone - the bass was more raw and rhythmic now, and the singer was murmuring obscene things into her microphone. It was hopeless now, but she couldn't help but grin, and her tongue peeked out to touch her eyetooth as she remembered the mistiest of nights, a dampness that crept between her toes and down her throat.


She had been spending too much time as a wolf, she had begun to realize, standing in the woods in nothing but her underwear and a threadbare tank top. The summer had been so uncharacteristically humid that she didn't even bother to bring pants with her to change into on the off chance that she took on her original shape. She was becoming too used to flying between the trees, naked except for a coat of fur. She hadn't spoken to her friends in months, when her hair needed cutting she took to it with a pair of scissors, a knife or whatever she could find with hardly a glance in a mirror, and now she was standing in the woods half naked distracted by the way the dirt felt against the bottom of her feet.

She didn't know why the sensation enraptured her so much, perhaps it was because she had ceased to think of the tender sensitivity of her skin, but rather the matte, warm feeling of fur. As wild and concentrated as she could be in wolf form, it wasn't like this - this raw, exposed feeling. This aloneness.

She spun then - she wasn't sure why. Maybe he had let her hear her, but all she could see was a shape in the mist, even though he was barely twenty feet from her. She stared at the shape evenly for a few moments, studying the slender form, but it was the unnerving stillness that spoke of who was watching her.

"You going to just stand there?" she said into the mist, staring it and him down.

There was a pause before he stepped forward, with long elegant steps, taking his time until they were only a few feet from each other, the bronze skin of his torso exposed to the damp air, his long black hair hanging loosely over his shoulders.

"Hunting?" she asked.

Nahuel tipped his head to the side as he surveyed her. "I was going to ask the same of you."

Leah cringed at the comparison. "Do your hunting trips often bring you to sneaking up on half-naked girls in the middle of the woods?"

A smile. "Sometimes."

"It's creepy."

He ignored that. "What were you doing?"

She paused, startled. "Nothing."

He stepped closer. "Not true." In their few encounters, Leah had determined that Nahuel, while a difficult man to read most of the time, had not exactly mastered the art of subtlety even in his 150 years.

She stepped back, unnerved. "It's none of your business."

He was silent again for a moment, as he looked her up and down, and he tipped his head again ever so slightly, considering. And then, quite suddenly, he stepped forward again, close to her, much too close and much to quickly. Leah raised her arm across herself instinctively to block an attack but he pressed forward and suddenly her back was to a tree, her forearm pressed to his collarbones holding the small distance between them. He did not bother to ask his question again, his brown eyes merely stared into hers and he waited.

Leah stared back at him, wide-eyed and jaw set, anger boiling in her. Her tongue twisted in her mouth, and she recognized suddenly that she felt horribly thirsty and she was not sure why. Then she realized it was his bizarre sugary smell - fainter than that of his brethren, and not as sharp and foul - that left a dry feeling on her tongue.

"I was..." she said finally, but she did not know how to say it. "I was just....feeling the ground...as a human. Feeling something."

His eyes flickered over her face then, quickly, and Leah had the faint impression that a decision had been made in that old, closeted mind of his. Perhaps it had been to push her blocking arm out of the way, but she was already dropping it, her hand moving to grasp that back of his neck as he pressed their mouths together, his tongue reaching out to taste hers.

Leah wrapped her arms around him, pulling his face closer, his kiss deeper, tugging at his thick hair. The bark of the tree behind her scraped against her bare skin, and she bucked forward against the hard form before her.

Nahuel took hold her thighs then, pulling her legs around his waist and lifting her up, her body shaping to his firm torso, and her toes curling at both the pain against her back and the feel of him pressing against through his clothes beneath their waists. Looking at him, their noses and lips lightly brushing, inhaling his sweet breath, she reached down between them to undo the buttons and zipper, and it seemed only seconds later he was pressing into her with a powerful thrust, his head bending down to her neck and her nails digging deep into his shoulders.


Leah walked out of the club with her ears buzzing and her skin tingling pleasantly as the cool air hit it. Striding to her car, oblivious to the chatter and footsteps around her, and her mind feeling clear and content she didn't see the long form leaning against her car until she was close enough to see his face in the dark.

"Shit," she said, the smile dropping from her face.

"Good to see you, too," said Nahuel with the smallest hint of grin. He stepped away from the car, his hands tucked into the pockets of a pair of army green surplus pants. A loose-fitting sweater, with fabric the color of and as thin as gauze draped his broad shoulders and a wide neck exposed the russet tone of his chest and collarbones.

Leah's eyes drank up his shape, from top to bottom and back again, as her residual buzz simmered from lust to anger again. "The fuck you doing here?"

His grin widened. "I was in the neighborhood," he said, his accent making a mockery of the tired platitude.

"To hell with you," she exhaled, walking past him to the driver's side. "You're worse than that Cullen freak."

"I wasn't following you," he said, with what might have been a roll of his eyes, but she wasn't looking at him.

"So you're hear for the show then? You like Porcelain and the Tramps now?" she said, flipping her bangs out of her face as she looked back at him. In her boots, she was looking at him eye to eye, even as she was bent towards the car, him standing close enough she could detect the faint complexities of his scent. When he looked away, his eyes low, she slid her key into the lock.

"I can smell you a mile away, Leah," Nahuel said finally. "I can with all of your kind, but especially you." Now it was his turn to give her the up-down. She turned the lock, hearing the mechanical click, but didn't open the door.

After a long moment, he said, "I didn't know you moved to Seattle."

Leah sighed and turned, leaning her back against the door with the key still in it. "Time for a change," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "I would've gone further - L.A., maybe - but I had to stay close to the pack." If he detected the slight bitterness in the last word, he did not show it. He only nodded and made a small, "Mm," in response.

"What are you doing in Washington, anyway?" she asked. "The last I heard you were back stalking the jungles with Huilen."

He shrugged. "Time for a change," he said. His eyes didn't move from hers.

Her lips parted, hesitating for a moment as though her tongue needed to taste the words before they left her mouth. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

"No. Nowhere."

She tipped her head to the passenger's side and, with all his speed and fluidity, he was there in a second getting into the car at the same time she was.


Nahuel did not even survey her apartment as they stepped through the door, he merely followed close behind, watching her as she dropped her purse on a chair. When she turned to him his face was inches from hers yet again, and he took her mouth swiftly, his hands encircling her waist. She relished in the fact that he tasted as she remembered, running her hands all the way down his back and then running them back up underneath his shirt.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Mm," he affirmed nonchalantly as he obediently raised his arms so she could pull of the sweater.

"What do I smell like?"

His eyebrows crinkled together slightly.

"Vampires think I stink," she explained. "But you don't smell like other vampires to me. Your scent is lighter, like leftover milk after eating cereal." She didn't know if that meant anything to him, but he didn't stop her. "And you said you could smell me a mile away. So, I wanted to know, what do I smell like to you?"

His eyes flickered back and forth again, like they had before. A decision. "You smell like," he said slowly, "wood after a fire. Its powerful, strange, but it teases me. I can never taste all of it in just one breath."

She kissed him again then as she pulled him by the waist of his pants, backwards toward the bed.. Pressing her down into the mattress, Nahuel undressed her expertly, stripping her down to her black g-string in what seemed barely a moment and wrapping her long legs around him as he leaned forward on top of her. Her feet pushed down on his pants, and she wondered briefly why she never thought to learn how to undo a man's a fly with her toes, because right now it seemed like a very good skill to have.

Nahuel wrapped an arm around her waist, arching her towards him as his other hand reached down to peel her last shred of clothing away and then dip his fingers into her. She pressed towards him, letting out a frustrated groan and she thought she saw him smile before he bent down to tease her further with a long, slow stroke of his tongue that made her press her head back into the mattress and squeeze her eyes shut.

Climbing over her now, his pants somehow disappearing over his ankles, as though he slipped out of them like a chrysalis, he pulled her hips to his, rocking her against him. The sound of his rushed breath, the flush that was developing in his cheeks, forced Leah's hand to reach up and pull his mouth down to hers by his long hair that she knotted around her knuckles, and he filled her in one forward movement.

Leah let out a choked cry and Nahuel gave a shuddering exhale, now surrounded by her impossible heat. She thought of the other men, as she stared at Nahuel's parted, full lips, that had shared this bed and their shocked tones - "Holy shit baby, you got a fever or something?" - some not even able to control their climax once they had felt that blaze from the inside out. Wood after a fire, she thought. Cool and dark on the outside, but glaring, orange hot just underneath.

She didn't let go of his hair, and he kept his arm around her as he started a hard, powerful rhythm that had her digging her heels into the small of his back and gripping the bed cover. Her inhuman flesh would never give his force the chance to create bruises, but the pain, the friction charged her, like a burning hot chemical that flowed from his veins to hers, and a small desperate noise escaped her throat with each movement of his hips. His sweet, parching breath filled her mouth, making her tongue feel cracked, her throat open and she pulled harder on his hair, bringing his face close again. The tip of his tongue flickered over her lips, her face, with every thrust that came deeper and harder, his gasps matching hers and her eyes fell on his shining white teeth.

Those sharp incisors that carried his venom, that stinging poison that gave humans immortality and would kill her and her brothers, weren't even an inch from her and her begging mouth. She was crying out before she recognized the electric charge of the orgasm shooting through, and her spasms, her grip on him pushed him to his own climax, groaning hoarsely as he pulsed inside her.

Their mouths met as he moved his hands to cradle her face, and her fingers pulled at the hair at the back of his head, scratching at his scalp. Their kiss was deep and slow, and when she pulled her face away her teeth closed on his bottom lip, pulling it with her. His eyes locked on hers, and she pressed her teeth down hard, knowing he couldn't bite her back. Letting him go, she grinned at him as she lay back on the bed, moving her legs back and forth against his sides. He didn't move for a long moment, that strange vampiric stillness, but then she saw that flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and she pushed him over onto his back and they started again.


Leah arched in a stretch as she propped herself against the headboard and watched the sun drench her apartment with white-yellow rays that shimmered lightly over Nahuel's skin. The sharp heat, a tingling that traveled down to her fingers and toes, refreshed her and she took a long, deep breath.

Fuck happy endings, she thought.

Fuck imprinting.

Fuck soul mates.

Fuck eternal, undying love and bouncing bundles of joy.

She didn't need it, any of it. Hell, if she could wake up every morning for the rest of eternity and be able to look at a round, smooth copper-colored ass as perfect as the one she was kneading with her foot at that very moment, she was happy.

"I'm the fucking king of the world," she murmured, grinning, the tip of her tongue at her incisor.

"You're what?" said Nahuel.

"You heard me," she said. "Get on your knees."