It had been three days. Three whole days since Jacob had extracted a real response from his father. The most he'd heard from his father were three pathetic words – "maybe you should" – in response to Jacob's suggestion that he spend a few nights a Quil's.

Jacob had dusted Seth off, awkwardly lifting him from his inferior position on the ground and escorted him to the door – after which he hadn't seen Seth since – praying that his father hadn't realised, but he knew. Jacob knew that his father knew even before his father realised what was going on. It was obvious in the silence; no 'hello' or 'good night'. Instead, Billy had immediately wheeled to his room, closed the door and not made a noise until the following morning where he clattered about before leaving early in the morning before Jacob awoke. However, Jacob was awake, and had heard his father's silent and untraceable departure; not even a note was left to detail his plans.

Jacob had stressed the whole day, wondering what he was going to say to his father, how he could explain that it wasn't what it looked like – unless it looked like his son was absolutely straight and used a young pack member to relieve himself in a state of duress and this had nothing to do with anything outside of pure physical release, in which case it was exactly what it had looked like. He got angry at himself for putting himself in this position: there was no way to explain to his father what had happened without bringing up the fact that it had happened, however if he left it and hoped his father hadn't realised then there was always the chance he would have the wrong idea forever.

But Jacob never got the chance. After deciding to leave what path to take to the very last second, his father had rolled into the house and into his bedroom before Jacob could even jump of his bed and ask about his day.

The disinterested, emotionless answers and lack of conversation lead Jacob to believe there was no way he could explain his way out of this; his father definitely knew, and apparently didn't want excuses about it. Whether Billy was angry – or worse still, disgusted – at Jacob using Seth in this way, or if it was because it was a male in general, Jacob was not sure, but as he unpacked dropped his overnight bag onto the pull-out in Quil's room he decided he wasn't going to endeavour to find out.

"If you're just popping in for a friendly sleepover, why do you look so bummed?" Quil asked in a mocking way, but the concern was still there, hidden behind his hard demeanour.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jacob replied, wishing – with all the birthday candles from all the cakes – that he would just drop it. It took a special kind of someone to be compassionate enough to sympathise with another human. It took another special kind of someone to be able to pick up on body language and tone of voice and realise when something was supposed to be left alone. Unfortunately, Quil was neither of these people.

"But seriously, did you punch the wall again? Or was it a window this time?" Quil started laughing before asking, "Or did you phase in that tiny bedroom of yours?" His laughter echoed through his room – one much larger than Jacob's – and through the halls to a voice that belonged to neither of Quil's parents.

"I hope you're not braiding each other's hair without me," Embry laughed.

Thank heavens! Jacob thought to himself. Besides the fact that Embry embodied both compassionate-sympathiser and appropriately-timed-conversation-dropper, he would also provide as a perfect distraction from Quil's unwavering determination; once he was curious, he wouldn't stop until he knew everything.

As Jacob hugged Embry – in a manly way, Jacob reminded himself – in greeting, Quil explained, "Oh and I invited Embry over; if we're doing this, we're doing it right!"

"Doing what right?" Jacob inquired apprehensively.

"Getting pissed out of our brains to forget that whor-" Quil stopped, before retrying, "I mean Bella and her bastard of a husband; that's why your here right?"

Jacob wondered if all the wax and flames from his sponges and muds and ice cream cakes over the years had made this perfect excuse for him, or if he'd wasted a life-time accumulative wish on a problem that already had a solution. "I still don't want to talk about it." This time Jacob made out as if he'd being avoiding thinking about Bella the whole time; it was then he realised that avoiding thinking about her was what got him into this mess into the first place.

"Yeah, you just disappeared on us. I was really worried for you," Embry piped up as he threw his bag onto Quil's bed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Quil laughed, not realising the seriousness of Embry's bag placement.

"Um, I'm not spooning with Jacob..."

"And you think I am?" Quil raised an eye brow to drive his point forward.

"You two look perfect for each other. Stand side by side so I can get a better image," Embry laughed.

"Hey, what's wrong with sleeping with me?" Jacob placed his hand to his wounded heart.

"You're big enough as it is and then you spread out like no one else is there, and you stink," Embry explained, counting on his fingers, "and you roll around. Seriously, take your pick."

"Who said I wanted to sleep with either of you anyway?!" Jacob laughed, "I'm having the pull-out to myself and you two can share pillow talk on Quil's bed.

"I'm not sleeping with him either; he snores like gravel in a cement mixer," Embry's eyes widened at the shock of the suggestion, "he shakes the whole bed. I'd prefer to sleep with Jacob."

"Hey, now," Quil piped up, feigning taking offence, "no one said you were a saint either, little one." Quil place his large palm on the slightly shorter, slightly skinner of the three.

"Oh yeah?" Embry challenged, knowing he slept like a perfectly-volumed, perfectly-moveable, perfectly-scented angel. And as silence fell over the three of them – Jacob and Quil racked their brains, searching through all the memories of Embry sleeping like a baby at previously get-togethers for birthdays and long weekends – Quil decided the decision was made:

Picking up Embry's bag and throwing it next to Jacob's, he explained, "I don't know why we're arguing about this, it's my room." And with that, it was settled.

...

One would assume that 'getting pissed to forget the whore' would include vast quantities of alcohol and movies to watch. Instead it involved the lightweight (Embry) throwing up most of the alcohol within an hour and a half, resulting in Jacob and Quil walking it off with him, leaving the alcohol for fresh air and manly conversation topics.

Eventually, once methods of vampire killing were all expended and Embry seemed almost sober again, they found themselves heading back. Having walked almost the entire perimeter of La Push, they stumbled into bed as soon as they got home, exhausted by the late hour and physically exerting forgetting technique – physically exerting, looks like both forgetting techniques have something in common.

...

She was cold in his arms. Jacob was disgusted at himself that he was willing to endanger her life if it meant he could be with her before the vampires came and took her back. He had no idea how Bella had ended up in his arms, but she was freezing (to a normal human) and she was breathing deeply – she is so ready, Jacob thought to himself.

She was clearly sick but Jacob wanted her so bad, he felt sick knowing he only wanted her body, her stone cold body, and was thinking of her as 'ready' and 'not wet enough'. As he set her down on the tiny patched up bed in his tiny crumbling room, he looked down into her serene face, almost sleeping but her chest rose and fell like it couldn't get enough aim.

Jacob tried to drive away his animalistic urges with rational thinking; her skin was cold and her face was drained of blood, she clearly was having difficulty breathing. He tried to help, but his amateur attempts at resuscitation turned into passionate kiss. Trying to fight it only made him kiss harder. He stopped pumping her heat with his hands and started massaging her chest through her shirt.

As he checked for the final time, making sure she was ready – running his hand down her chest and stomach and felt the wetness that remained cold – he looked into her eyes, noticing for the first time the golden liquid that swirled behind the lenses.

And it sickened him to the core, that she had changed, that they had changed her, and here he thought about saving her from some sickness – although he made no movement to actually help. But the sickest thing of all – that made his stomach drop and his heart ache and tears pool on his lower eye lids – was that before he knew it, his was mixing the warmth emanating from his cockhead with the cooling slickness she provided for her filthy, bloodsucking husband to slide in and slide out daily, changing her once perfect body into his own personal dumping space.

Jacob continued to slide the full length of his meat – from tip to base – in and out of her as she writhed in – what Jacob hoped was – immense pleasure. All the while the images of Bella before this change that he tried to use to mask what she had become were being over powered by some stronger voice in his mind, telling him that she was using him – like she always had; that he could be grinding forever and never get closer than he was to her than he was in that moment; that the only explanation for a dead person being able to provide such lubrication was that at this moment Jacob's cock was covered – knob and balls – in the juice provided by Edward as a daily reminder that Bella was eternally his.

"Hey," she whispered, still not looking at him, but placing her hands either side of his face, reassuring him with her touch. "Jacob?" She whispered, questioning whether that was him, or questioning what he was doing.

And slowly she was pulling away. Jacob's cock ached as it was drawn from her and she drifted away, darkness consuming her. And him, for that matter. Reaching forward, trying to hold onto something – anything – as they were both cloaked in darkness, he pulled her into his chest. And suddenly she was warm against his chest. As he continued to satisfy himself by grinding against her, he wished his cock was now in the wet hole that he had pleasured himself with, now knowing that it was warm.

She was still whispering, "Jacob," she said, grabbing his hand and shaking him, "Jake, are you dreaming?" It was the absurdity of her question that hazily brought him to the realisation that the whole situation was absurd, causing him to awaken in a dark room that wasn't his own, holding a body (that was clearly not Bella's) against his own – their back to his chest, his ragged breath on the back of their neck, his cock pressed up against their lower back.

"EMB-" Jacob began, starting to leap back in surprise, in embarrassment, in shock. However was interrupted by Embry's reassuring 'shh'.

Embry held onto the arm wrapped around his torso as Jacob's first reaction was to jump away, but when Jacob stayed, spooning into Embry's back, he let go, leaving Jacob to hold on as he had when he was dreaming. In the dark, Jacob felt movement and flinched in surprise as he felt a hand feeling about the opening of the cotton boxers he was sleeping in. Soon Embry had found the opening through which he thread his hand upon undoing the button, where he pulled Jacob's severely hard cock through.

His aching blue balls prevented him from questioning Embry's actions, and if it weren't for the state of his erection (almost bursting point) that had stopped his question, then it would be the cloudiness of his midnight brain. All the while, Jacob's heaving breaths slowed gradually as he had stopped the physically demanding action of grinding through shorts and started trying to understand what Embry was doing through touch, not sight.

He felt Embry's hand – small than Quil's and his own, with long fingers – give his cock a gentle squeeze before pulling back the skin on his head. His body was tense, but he tensed further when Embry let go; his cock ached when left alone. There was more movement in front of him – all while Embry's topless body was pressed into Jacob's own topless body – before Embry's hand returned. The saliva carried in the palm of his hand was rubbed onto the cockhead, lathering it and causing the tension to drop in his shoulders and neck as he sighed into Embry's hair that now shared his pillow, so close he could smell the sea-salt and sweat.

But Jacob froze momentarily, then pulled back, Embry had directed his cock to his-

"No, shh," Embry whispered, using his available hand to rub Jacob's hugging arm. He continued to reassure Jacob in this way – slowly and gently rubbing Jacob's muscular forearm – as he applied more saliva and tried once again to execute his plan.

Apprehensively at first, Jacob shuffled slowly forward, following his cock in the slippery hand as Embry pulled on it slowly, but firmly. Embry knew what Jacob was thinking – and he didn't want to get fucked by Jacob either... yet – so he whispered "just wait" when he was close to his mark and felt Jacob tense again. But Jacob trusted him, moving forward ever so slightly, where he felt Embry position the tip – and soon the whole shaft – in the gap between his legs. Letting go, Embry's hand retuned to holding onto Jacob's arm that held onto his body.

For a second they lay their together, Embry encircled by Jacob's arms and Jacob's cock encircled by Embry's thighs. And then Jacob started.

He was already close due to the dream-induced thrusting, so he felt his cock stiffen to bursting hardness a soon as he began thrusting between Embry's legs. He pulled back, feeling his saliva-lubed knob caress the insides of Embry's thighs where the short black hairs tickled his shaft. When the tip was at exposing point, he would quietly, but passionately, thrust back into Embry's pseudo-pussy; warmer than what he could have dreamed of, wet from the spit, and his head was caressed at the end of his long thrust by the balls that hung over the other side. Occasionally the balls were replaced with Embry's hand which met his tip on the other side of his legs with more saliva-lube, allowing him to continue getting lost in the thrusting right when he started find his way back to the room with all the leg hairs that were sticking to his head.

Jacob began panting heavily, breathing deeply the natural-scented hair in front of him, loving the warmth surrounding his cock, pressed into his chest, rubbing his arms. He felt – for the last time – Embry's hand reapply lube, sending him into climax. He continued to thrust as his balls tensed and his cock stiffened, the cum building at the base of his cock, ready for ejection. And then he was shooting the warm cum from his meat, it oozed over Embry's thighs and coated his balls as Jacob continued to thrust shallowly into Embry's legs, massage just the head of his cock as he hovered above the world on his orgasm.

As he felt himself falling back down, he braced himself for the crash landing, grabbing hold of Embry and pulling him tight against his chest, breathing in a lung full of his hair. And then he relaxed – still entwined with Embry – as he fell asleep immediately.

AN While writing the first chapter, I thought about how the most difficult part of my writing process is finding a believable pathway between the context of the story and the sexual encounters – I don't like to rest on the all-too-easy "oh, the straight person in this story just so happens to realise he's gay at the exact point he is faced with the prospect of male-male sex" because it ruins the point of the majority of my stories: that is, a straight character getting it on with a gay (or another straight) character.

I often find myself disappointed with a Fanfic I read when the integrity of the story – the premise of the sexual event – is sacrificed for the sex itself. And so I do sympathetically apologise if you read any of my stories and find yourself unhappy with the characters and/or events based on the sex. Believe me, I am aware of when I do 'that what I hate' in my own stories (often late at night when my tired brain can't be bothered to formulate a guise under which a straight man can have sex with another man for a normal reason), however, also believe me when I tell you that I only ever resort to it when I've worked myself into a tight corner and can't find my way out.

So that is a little piece of my thoughts, why not share yours?