Summary: A SethPOV out-take from Say Something Else, taking place immediately following the end of Chapter 11. Slash, Seth/Edward, NC-17
A/N: Originally part of the Fics for Nashville compilation. Thanks to my most excellent beta, kuroiblacknightingale. I hardly need to say it, but I don't own Twilight.
I yawned and stretched, and then I remembered.
I had sex with Edward Cullen.
A stupid grin spread over my face, and I rolled over and reached out as I opened my eyes.
My voice was loud, I swear it echoed. I was alone. In the bed, in the room. I sat bolt upright, my eyes searching the space. The bed, the twisted blankets. All his clothes were gone, his shoes, his socks. Edward was gone.
"Fuck." I dragged my fingers through my hair, balling my hands and pulling hard. Possibilities tore through my mind, all the reasons he could have for sneaking out while I slept. Was I... not... good? Had I hurt him? Had I come too quick? No, it wasn't that... not after he'd made me come once before he'd even taken his jeans off.
If I hadn't been so panicked, the memory of coming in his hand while he kissed me would have got my dick hard again, but I was freaking out.
Because I knew it wasn't anything I had done.
Edward had bolted because he felt guilty.
I threw back the covers and leapt out of bed, almost falling head-first onto the floor when my foot got tangled in the sheet. I scrambled for my clothes, pulling my jeans on commando and fumbling with the buttons as I made for the closed bedroom door. I snagged my t-shirt off the floor and tugged it over my head as I burst through into the hall, my only destination my truck, hoping like hell that the engine would turn over, because I could bet that Edward had a hell of a head-start. Maybe I should call his place first? I had a horrible feeling that if he truly wanted to put distance between us, there was nothing at all stopping him from leaving town, and then I might never see him again.
That thought made it hard to breathe.
I shot out of the hallway and into the living room like a bullet, almost taking out the coffee table in my rush to get out of the house.
And then I stopped.
Facing away from me, one hand on the front doorknob as if he was just about to step outside, was Edward. He wasn't moving, though his shoulders rose and fell erratically.
"Hey," I said quietly. Like I was afraid that if I spoke too loud, he would run.
He didn't answer. I slowly approached him, and reached out to gently place my hand on his shoulder. "Edward? What are you doing?"
His head turned, just slightly, towards my hand, and I could see that his eyes were closed and he wore a pained expression on his face. "I have to go."
I stepped up beside him, getting close. My shoulder rubbed against his. "Please don't. Stay with me, Edward, please."
He grimaced and shook his head. "I've been trying to leave for the last half hour."
"Why?" I regretted the word as soon as it passed my lips. I should have been convincing him to stay, not asking him to recall all the reasons why he thought he should go.
He turned and opened his eyes, looking directly at me. They were bloodshot, as if he'd been crying, but I was kind of used to his eyes looking like that. It always made me want to be able to say something that would make him happy again, to make him stop hurting, but I never could think of anything.
And so I usually just said nothing.
"Disclosure, right?" he asked. "If we're gonna be... friends?"
I swallowed heavily. Was this... fuck. I tried to keep my expression neutral. "Yeah." I had to bite down on my lip hard to stop my own emotions from showing. The last thing I needed to do was to scare him away with some stupid lovesick display.
His lips moved, as if he was trying to speak. He squeezed his eyes shut tight again and sighed heavily. "I don't think... I can't..." And then he reached up and placed his hands on the back of my neck, pulling our foreheads together. He took deep breaths while I tentatively wrapped my arms around his waist. Then he tipped his face up and pressed his open lips against mine.
A desperate sob shook him, but he only kissed me harder. His tears wet my face, and his hands slid down to pull frantically at the fabric of my shirt. He groaned, sounding as if he was in pain, and tore his lips from mine. "I should go," he rasped, and he was shaking. "I shouldn't be here." But instead of pushing away, he turned us both around and pressed me against the front door, shoving his hips hard against mine. "Make me feel something, please." He attacked my mouth again, violently, hurting me.
I didn't know what to do, so I tried to push him away, but he shoved back. "I don't know why I can't feel anything," he growled against my lips. "I heard the things you said to me, when you told me how it was for you, how you felt while you were fucking me." He ground his hips against mine and I couldn't help moaning, because despite the fact that he was making me uncomfortable, I was turned on too, and it was obvious that he was as well because that was his hard cock rubbing against mine.
"How come I can need you so much and yet feel absolutely nothing when you're making love to me, Seth? Why? Make me feel something, please!"
He was still crying, his voice breaking as he begged me to do something I had no idea how to do. And it was hard to think. All I could hear was him telling me he felt nothing, when I had just had the single most significant experience of my life with him. I was in love with him, and we'd had sex, and it had been amazing, mind-blowing and wonderful, and he was telling me it meant nothing? And yet here he was, grinding himself against me as if he wanted to do it again, and I should have told him to stop, but I couldn't.
I let go of him, let my hands fall to my sides and turned my head away. I tried to rationalise what he was saying, but sex was something I had no experience in prior to him. He was still grieving, and yeah, I knew that we had rushed into things, we should have waited, tried to be friends first...
But I loved him. I'd loved him for years, I think, and I wanted to help him, to make him hurt less. And if he wanted to be with me, then I wasn't going to tell him no.
He'd stopped moving against me and was breathing heavily against my cheek. "I need you," he gasped, and I didn't know if he meant that he wanted to have sex again, or if it meant that he wanted me to be his boyfriend, or just his friend, or... was this what he meant by not feeling anything? He didn't care about me enough to want to be in a relationship with me? Were we 'friends with benefits'? Was that all we were?
"Tell me you love me," he whispered. "Please."
I didn't hesitate. "I love you."
"I'm using you, Seth. Don't waste your life on me. I've tried to leave. I can't because I need you to keep me breathing. I'm going to hurt you, just like everyone expects me to do. But I'm too selfish to leave you alone. Tell me to go, and I will. Tell me you don't want me here."
I wished I could see his face, but his cheek was pressed firmly against mine and he held me there with his hands. I needed to see his expression, to try and figure out what he was thinking. "I can't," I insisted. "I don't want you to go."
He groaned, and I felt his face twist against my cheek. He was torturing himself, I knew, but that was all I knew. "I already told you, Edward. I want you both. It's okay. I'm okay. You wouldn't be who you are without him. I want you both."
He sobbed once, and fresh tears wet his face. "Me too," he gasped, before he kissed me again.