Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
Showing Up Johnny Walker
Pausing outside the front door, Jacob cocked his head to the side – not really sure he'd heard correctly – then, when nothing but her undecipherable words met his focused eavesdropping, he lifted his hand-
"Oh... oh, God... yes, oh yes, baby... that's it... ri- right there- oh my God!"
-and the air was choked off from his lungs as he stood, frozen with his hand hovering mid-knock.
"Yes, baby, harder- harder! God! Yes- yes!"
A billion things rushed through his mind (including how suddenly and embarrassingly his jeans felt that little bit tighter) then, not thinking any longer, he yanked the door open. He came to a complete standstill in the mouth to the living room (that's where the, uh... noises came from).
"More, baby, more- now – ye- yes! Oh ye-"
Angela eying him with a fearful look on her face was what made Bella's chanting die in her throat, and now she, too, was still; though her face was focused on her friend on the opposite side of the coffee table where they sat with a large bottle of Johnny Walker and a mountain of used tissues strewn across the surface.
In a tiny whisper she prompted Angela, "There's someone behind me, isn't there?" who in turn could only nod. A half-bob sort of confirmation.
"It's not Ch-"
Angela shook her head quickly.
Bella visibly relaxed, then turned her flushed face and glassy eyes on him, only to slap her hand to her mouth.
Jacob had absolutely no clue what he looked like.
But then she sputtered, and was suddenly in stitches, doubled over and (one could think) dying from laughter.
Then Angela raised both hands to cover her mouth as she, too, burst out laughing.
Well... this wasn't embarrassing. Not at all. Even less so was the pang of disappointment that shot through him: how come she never sounded like that when he was inside her?
He glared grudgingly at the bottle and decided that he and Mr. Walker were going to have to have a serious talk about this later... in Bella's bedroom.
She was his and, the spirits willing, she'd take his name, too, one day, so some ground rules needed to be established.
"Ready or not, here I come!"
"NO JESS!" Both Angela and Bella shouted in the general direction of the hallway. Jessica (he assumed) was coming down the stairs; he heard the soft padding of bare feet and wondered what the hell was going on here.
Then Bella was at him, both hands covering his eyes. "Don't look!"
Only now did it occur to him that she wore only a slip (a very thin one, at that) and her soft breasts were squashed between them. He didn't mind, of course, and while he loved how the slightest contact could make his blood boil – now really wasn't the time.
"Holy shit – what's he doing here?" he heard Jessica hiss, but he was obeying Bella's order and kept his eyes closed. Though he probably wouldn't have seen much as her hands were still on his face.
He'd come by to see Bella, as he did every other weekend when she came down from Seattle. Normally he called first, but he had missed her something crazy and couldn't wait. (Mentally he noted that he'd always call first from now on... until he could present her with all the perks of living together, that is.)
He faked what he hoped was a convincing (and irresistible) pout. "Aw, come on, Bells... do it."
"Stop it. You're not playing fair."
She called it his puppy dog-face, and usually it worked. This time, however, it didn't seem to do the trick. Well... this just sucked. Mr. Walker apparently was allowed to influence her. Molly got her way by doing her puppy dog-face (never mind that she was a dog; that wasn't the point...), yet he had to bust his balls to get her to do anything out of character.
Yes. He was pouting like a fucking child (and not acting very manly-like), but it was totally. Not. Fair.
So that meant he could be unfair, too.
Bella rolled her eyes at him and turned back to the dishes. She was still wearing that slip – why did she need to wear a slip while comforting Jessica about her failing on again-slash off again relationship with Mike Newton?
He got helping her pick out a killer-outfit (that's what she'd called it) to seduce the poor schmuck with, and he completely understood the mountain of tissues (women cried a lot, after all). Even the whisky (fucking Johnny Walker- you're gonna get yours) was comprehensible. But why did they have to prance around in lingerie while consoling? Was it some kind of empowering-phase or...?
Sometimes he just didn't understand women...
...correction: most of the time he didn't understand women.
The rest of the time they just went over his head.
He got Bella, though – until he'd heard her... make those noises. Now he couldn't let it drop. It was a compulsion; he had to hear it. But how? He'd already made love to her in any way he could think of, or that she could think of. Nothing had made her moan like that, and now his ego was taking a major hit, goddammit.
Bella Swan had always turned him into a pining schoolkid who couldn't seem to get it right. And she still made him an emo, angsty brat. Fucking hell.
"Want to help me dry them?"
Jacob cleared the whiny-him out of his head. "Huh?"
She lifted her bare foot and pointed toward the wall where a couple of towels hung, causing the slip to hike up . . . .
Not fucking serious... she was wearing matching panties now, too?
Ignoring the towels, he rose from the chair and walked over to stand behind her. He placed his hands on the sink on either side of her and leaned in, his lips barely touching her ear. "Bells?" he spoke quietly, but in a low voice, like she was a tiny kid who'd just brought in half the sandbox from outside. (He knew all about it; he remembered his mom's voice reprimanding his sisters.)
She shivered and tensed up, if only for a fraction of a second (but he noticed) then she made herself relax. Oh. Oh, so that's how it was going to be, huh?
"I've been here two hours now..." He traced along the soft skin between her ear and hairline with the tip of his nose. Then back down again, all the way down to the crook of her neck. "Where's... I missed you? or..." Releasing the sink, he cupped her shoulders, then slipped his hands down along her arms to join her slowed motions in the water where she was washing the plate he'd eaten leftover lasagna from not long ago.
A faint sigh slipped past her lips. "Jake," she pleadingly whispered.
"...I can't believe I made it two weeks without so much as-" While guiding her hands that had gone limp in his to wash the plate, he brushed his lips over her collarbone- "one" -up her neck- "single" -along her jaw, not stopping until he reached the corner of her mouth where he lingered, but still didn't touch- "kiss?"
She inhaled a shallow, quivering breath and left the water to feel her way up his wrists, forearms, and leaned into him as her wet fingers splayed over his biceps then continued up beneath his sleeves to knead his shoulders.
"Um... how about..." She fell silent, then pressed her back into him and tilted her ass and pushed up, right against his already so damn hard and aching- "I need you?"
His mouth was immediately on hers, frenzied and clumsy, and a moan built in her throat when he roamed up her front, not caring at all that he'd just splashed a shitload of water over her. He palmed her breast and curled an arm around her to clutch her against the throbbing need to be inside her.
When he cupped his hand between her legs, she whimpered and all but collapsed in his arms.
With a gasp she tore her mouth from his. "Jake, please, I want you – now."
No complaints there.
She turned and he had her thighs in a firm grip, lifting her to him and walked out of the kitchen. With his hair as anchor, she attacked his neck and throat while he took the first few steps up the stairs, and, to his slight humiliation, stumbled when she pushed her hips against him.
Of course he caught himself, but then, in a hoarse voice, she made him falter, "Need you inside me so badly."
He twitched in his pants, and an electrifying jolt shot through him when she, in her frantic search for his mouth, bit his lip.
"Dammit, honey – fuck." This time when he missed a step he caught himself against the railing, but she was fucking everywhere. "Screw this," he breathed roughly and kneeled to set her ass down on the stairs, making a rush of air fly past her lips.
"Off," she demanded and tugged at the top button on his jeans.
"Yours, too," he replied under his breath. "I can't wait – goddammit. Two fucking weeks, honey – get this shit off." He didn't mean to, but he ripped her panties clear off.
"Jake!" she protested but it came out as a choked giggle-squeak.
"Don't give a shit," he mumbled against her mouth while working the buttons on his pants while she kept shoving at them until they gave way and slid down his hips. "I'll buy you a dozen, whatever, just-" He bit back on a groan when she grabbed him, then slipped his hands behind her head to make sure she didn't bang it on the steps.
As soon as he felt himself sinking into her slick heat, she reached around him, and next thing he knew she'd grasped his ass and he was inside her to the hilt with one firm thrust. "Oh, holy f-" The rest became a wordless moan muffled by her neck and after two damn weeks he had no control: he was driving into her (egged on by her nails digging into his ass) again and again.
Then she lifted her legs to hook them around his waist, making him go deeper-
"Oh, God- Jake..."
"Shit, honey, you're so tight."
"So good- oh-"
"Too fucking good, Bells, I can't-"
He could feel her clamping down on him and the pressure was rapidly building, getting too much.
"Soon," she managed in a shallow pant. "Soon – I'm just... so close, Jake."
"You're killing me," he whispered and squeezed his lids shut while trying to think un-sexy and generally boring thoughts, which, were he to be honest, was pretty much impossible.
Mostly thanks to how she eagerly met him as he in a less-than-gentle fashion (and shamelessly) slammed her into the stairs. If it hurt, she sure as hell didn't let on, if anything it made her moan louder. In your face, Walker.
She arched into him, make him hit some place... right... there-
"Oh, shit- honey, I don't-"
And then she was clutching at him helplessly. "Jake- I'm gonna-"
Thank you, God.
Just as he'd said his grateful prayers, she squeezed around him and he burrowed his face into her neck while thrusting into her trembling hips once, twice-
She came apart while an incoherent stream of words left her mouth, broken into a series of hitched pants and the repeat of his name. Somewhere, in between it all, he buried himself deep in her body and came hard . . . .
"Missed you," she rasped while catching her breath, but his brain was too dead to string even the simplest of words together.
"Mhmm," was the best he could do, though he wrapped her into him and held her there. Tight.
A few inhales and exhales. "Uh-huh?"
"You might have to rethink your retirement plans." She said it in an oh, by the way manner, which made him draw back a little to see her face.
With a cocked brow. "Why?"
She shifted slightly beneath him and winced. "Ow – um, well... I think we just killed my spine, and I really have to pee and, well... considering how many times a day a person needs to pee, among all those other necessary things, I'm going to need someone to carry me around, and unless you want me to ask Dr. Paul-"
Jacob growled at her in spite of himself, which made her wriggle out from beneath him.
"Too easy," she teased and planted a quick kiss on his lips.
He stared disbelievingly as she stood up and wobbled slightly. "That was a low-blow, honey," he unhappily accused. She took a few steps then grabbed the railing and paused.
A brief silence, then she breathed, "Oh Jake- baby," and peered at him over her shoulder.
"You'd better been joking about the injuries," he warned dangerously in a low voice.
She squeaked as he lunged for her.
Thanks are in order. To audreyii_fic for the prompt of stair!secksing that made me decide to continue and actually finish and post this one at all. (Prompt to be found from here - NSFW - http:/ houseoferotica (.) tumblr (.) com/post/4383421458 )