A/N: I don't write often, and I don't write well (Note from Jen: bullshit - but see for yourself after reading this), but I was asked to don my author hat for a spell to give the gift of word to sweet Nae and maybe give her an awesome b-day.

I forewarn this one-shot contains many a curse, but Nae will tell ya, my mouth is quite worse. I'll also warn this is a tale of boy loves boy, something you may not really enjoy.

If this is the case, please be on your way - no harm, no foul, and have a nice day. Of course a disclaimer I must make. Stephenie Meyer is the pro, and I am the fake.

The familiar things, she owns them all, the rest is mine, and I had a ball, writing this piece only to say, I love you, sweet Nae, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

SorceressCirce cleaned up my mess, made it more pretty, I must confess. She wielded her beta pen with grace and style, to help me surely make Naelany smile

Everything was perfect; the décor, the ceremony, the music, and of course the beautiful, loving couple moving across the floor enjoying their first dance. Everything was right; their frames were locked along with their eyes, and they floated together as if on an unseen cloud of happiness.

As I watched them, I could not help but be so overjoyed for my friends. Love emanated from every single cell of their bodies, surrounding them in an aura of pure light. No one in the room was immune to the glow. The first smile in over a month made its way across my face, and soon I was all-out laughing, enjoying the moment.

When Messrs. Whitlock-Masen kissed each other at the end of the dance with a look of pure adoration on their faces, it was easy to forget my heartache. Easy to allow myself to just be here for my two best friends on their wedding day. I was willing to push my pain aside to be the fun- loving guy they have always known me to be. For Edward and Jasper, I would be the best Best Man ever.

The night continued under the banner of bliss with everything going exactly the way it should. My speech got a lot of laughs and even some tears. I got to dance with the grooms, as well as my partner and some of the other guests. It seems a ballroom instructor's dance card is never empty. The cake cutting was sweet, watching Ed and Jazz each spin his husband in a full turn before gently feeding each other the cake.

Showoffs.

Back at the table, I took a break from the festivities and, if I was being honest with myself, I was letting the sadness catch up with me for the first time that night when I heard a gasp from across the table. A warm hand touched my shoulder, and I looked up at Rose to see shock and anger on her face.

I knew.

Fear rooted me in my seat; it would not allow me to turn around. I felt the warmth from his hand growing, traveling every nerve ending along my arm down to my tingling fingers. His thumb gently drifted across the nape of my neck.

I closed my eyes. I knew.

The heat from his touch continued along my neck and across my chest, encroaching on my shattered heart. For a moment it lay still, afraid to move, but the warmth endured, and it began to beat so fast I thought it would leave my body.

"Shit!"

I peeked to my right to see the expletive leave Ed's mouth. I knew he was here, and he was standing right behind me.

"Emmett, please?" his voice rasped, and I winced. It had been six weeks since I had last heard that voice, a voice I knew in my sleep. I can still remember the first time I ever heard it clear as day.

Ten months earlier:

"What time is their lesson?" She stood in classic impatient Rose stance, hands on hips, lips pursed, eyes rolling, annoyance dripping from every word. "This is what happens when I let you book the clients."

A laugh escaped the lips I was trying so desperately to keep together. I couldn't help it - I always found her irritation to be hilarious. She took things so seriously that I had to do my best to remind her that we were living our dream. This was supposed to be fun, getting paid to do something we loved.

"They should be here any minute. The bride sounded really excited when she booked us. I think this is going to be a blast. You know …fun. You should try it sometime."

She smiled and rolled her eyes at me once more for good measure. I was glad I was still the one that could bring that smile out, considering the times I had made her cry. Making a big show of looking at her watch, she sighed dramatically.

"Well it's ten past already. Don't they believe in being on time? Or are we on their sche..."

"Fuck! Alright, drop it! I'm fucking here, right? Let's do this fruity shit!"

Her epic rant was interrupted - rather rudely, I might add - by the loud, angry man making his way through the studio door behind his very embarrassed-looking fiancee. Rose gave me a look that said so many things - "I told you so." "Is this fucker for real?" "Did he just call ballroom… fruity?" But most of all it said, "You're never booking the clients again."

I shrugged and used my dimpled grin to my advantage. I knew she could never resist the dimples. She shook her head, then focused on the advancing couple, preparing to welcome them to our studio.

Before she could get the words out of her mouth, the rude angry dude started flapping his gums again, asking questions. It took me a second to realize his questions were directed at me.

"Wha…?" I asked, dumbstruck.

"I asked if your little woman is forcing these frou-frou dance lessons on you, too? Don't know why they want us to do this silly shit, but whatever keeps them happy, right? Don't need a chick turning into a nag before you even marry her. Got yourself a hottie there, wouldn't want to make her mad either…smart man. So where is this teacher? I bet it's some old bird or a knob jockey."

I thought Rosalie's head just might explode from the fury she was holding back. While I found angry dude's comments regarding women, ballroom, and gays offensive, I totally understood him confusing me for a student. It was a reaction I had gotten many times before. I didn't exactly have the body type of a typical ballroom dancer; where most had lean muscles, mine were quite bulging. My height and hulking figure screamed football star, not dancer.

I casually stepped into Rosie's path, grabbed her arm, and spun her with a flourish before she could do serious damage to our new student. When I was sure I had a good grip on my she- devil, I held my hand out to start introductions with Mr. Bigot and Ms. Mortified.

"I'm Emmett McCarty; this is my business and dance partner, Rosalie Hale. Welcome to our studio."

To say that he was a bit surprised was an understatement; his jaw flapped open and then closed repeatedly before his fiancee nudged him in the ribs, gesturing toward my outstretched hand. He grabbed it and gave a firm handshake before remembering his manners.

"Oh...uh...yeah, sorry about that. Paul Uley, and this beautiful lady is my future bride, Rachel Black."
At least he had the decency to look ashamed of his earlier comments, but my Rosie rarely showed mercy, and this guy just made the top of her shit list.

Poor sucker, I know what that's like.

We began their lesson with the basics - posture and positions. While Rachel seemed to find her groove easily, Paul did not. He was struggling with the position of his hips and pelvis. It was all wrong, and Rose kept calling him on it. Soon their annoyance with each other was clearly evident on their faces. I realized a tad too late that their conflicting temperaments did not make for a peaceful learning environment when I heard her frustrated screech.

"NOOOOO! For the twentieth time, you are tucking too far under." She looked at me, eyes ablaze, and then he went off.

"I have no clue what the fuck you want from me, lady! My hips are in the exact same position you put 'em in."

Rachel tried to step in, but that just set him off even more. We were treated to his tirade about this 'twinkle toes bullshit', and how he didn't want to do it. I needed to intervene before Rosie ripped his tongue out of his mouth and shoved it up his ass.

"Alright, how about this…I take Paul and work with him solo in the other room, while you work with Rachel?" I raised my brow and looked around to see if everyone was agreeable. I seemed like a good idea, but I couldn't help but notice the look on Rosie's face.

"Em, can I talk to you for a sec?" She didn't even wait for me to nod before pulling me out of earshot from our students. "You sure about this? I mean, that guy...he's an asshole, and a bigot, and homophobic. Did I mention he's an asshole? And..."

"Thank you, for being my little pitbull," I cut in. "I don't mind him; he's all bark and no bite. Besides, I know how to defend myself, being a big boy and all."

She giggled, and I winked before I made my way back to the waiting couple and then escorted Paul to the adjacent studio. Things went a lot smoother after that, but I kept catching this weird look in Paul's eyes every time I grabbed his hips to place them back in position. I was used to it when a male student's spine stiffened. Most men got a little nervous about the whole 'another guy is touching me' thing, but I had never seen such a strange look in all my years of teaching. I just brushed it off and continued doing what I do best, and by the end of the lesson, Paul's posture needed to be corrected only four times.

Our lessons with Paul and Rachel continued in much the same manner. We would start out together, Paul and Rosalie would get on each other's nerves, and then we would split up and things would go smoothly. At the end of the lesson, Paul and Rachel would come together and show off what they learned. Wash, rinse, repeat, twice a week.

It was during my solo lessons with Paul that things continued to get strange. The weird look was always there when I corrected the posture of his hips, pelvis, and torso. When we began practicing dance positions, I found it odd that he would begin to sweat profusely and stutter when he had to hold my hand. It was almost like he was nervous about something.

By the eighth lesson, things settled down between Rosalie and Paul so the majority of our time was spent all together. After all, the point of the lessons were for him to dance with his bride. Once again I was confused by the look on Paul's face when he discovered we wouldn't be sharing solo lessons. I could have sworn he seemed….disappointed? I couldn't figure him out, and I was usually very good at reading people. Whatever this was, it was holding him back on the dance floor - he needed to let it go.

Vowing to help him, I studied him intently during our next lesson. Every time he caught my eyes on him, his eyes would quickly shift away. He wouldn't let me in. The lesson finished, they left, and only moments after the door closed, Rose started in on me as we cleaned up the studio for the night.

"Why do you give a shit if he gets it or not? It's his wedding, not yours. He obviously doesn't want to be doing this. He's only here to keep her happy, so why should you care if he doesn't?"

"How long have you known me, sweetness?"

She nodded because that was answer enough.

"I still say that guy isn't worth your time or effort anyway. Need I remind you that he's an asshole? I give that marriage a year before she figures out what a prick she married and bails."

"That's real fucked up, Rosie."

She just shrugged. "I only call it how I see it. You need to stop caring so much. You'll wear yourself out, and you need to have your wits about you for your date tomorrow."

"Fuck, I almost forgot about that," I muttered, my shoulders sagging. I knew she meant well, but this was the fifth blind date she had set up, and none of the guys were ever my type. If I didn't know how much she loved me, I would've thought she was doing this on purpose to get back at me for the past, but I knew she forgave me a long time ago. I sighed, "So what's his name?"

"His name is Mike, and he's gorgeous," she beamed.

The crash of what sounded like keys hitting the floor alerted us that we weren't alone. We turned to find Paul standing still, his face painted in a look of pure horror as he gestured to his keys that now lay on the floor as motionless as his body.

"Oh hey, Paul." I smiled. "Forgot your keys?"

He nodded before his eyes grew even wider, his face a mask of full fury. "He? His? Mike?" He had such hatred in his stare, like he wanted me dead. "YOU'RE A FUCKING FAGGOT?"

Rose leapt for his throat, but I caught her around her waist before she could make contact. I held his gaze before calmly speaking.

"No, but I am a gay man. Is this going to be a problem?"

"HELL FUCKING YES! You touched me, held my hand! No wonder I was feeling... Holy Shit! Stay the FUCK away from me, FAG." He snatched his keys and sprinted for the door but not before Rosalie sent him on his way with some lovely parting words, making sure he knew he was not ever welcome back.

I stood there shell-shocked. I couldn't move, couldn't talk. Rose kept trying to soothe me, telling me he was just a bigot, but his hurtful words were not what held me in place. I shook my head to clear it; suddenly it all made sense. The strange look...it was fear, lust, confusion, and rage all mixed together. It was hard to recognize the look because I used to be the one wearing it. I didn't live my life looking in the mirror, but now my reflection was peering back at me through his eyes.

The clues were falling into place, and I recognized every one. The anger - he lashed out to release the pain of his secret; he was angry at himself for who he was. The guilt - he overcompensated with his fiancee by doing anything she wanted, even if it was something he did not care to do. The outrageous machismo - he had to prove he was a man by demeaning women or anything he considered 'gay'.

It all clicked. Paul was the Emmett of seven years ago. Everything I had gone through back then he was going through now. I didn't know his exact situation, but I knew it was pretty damned similar. Rose stood there with worry etched across her beautiful face as I stood silent in my discovery; finally, it was all too much for her.

"Emmet Dale McCarty, if you don't answer me in three seconds, so help me God, I will call Edward." That snapped me out of it; I didn't want Edward to get dragged into this just because he was a doc.

"He's gay," I whispered.

"Edward? Yeah I know," she blurted, confusion marring her features. "What's going on, Em? You're scaring me."

"No, Rosie, not Edward. Well yes, Edward, but I mean Paul. Paul is gay." My eyes fell on hers, and I saw the comprehension take over. She started to piece together the same puzzle I had just solved, and then her eyes focused on mine once more.

"Holy shit, the asshole is gay."

Seven months ago:

After I realized Paul was struggling with his sexual orientation, I wanted to help him because I had lived through almost the exact same circumstances myself. Unfortunately, he decided to take Rose at her word of never being welcome again. I tried to call the number listed in their file under client contact, but it had been disconnected. I looked him up; no Uleys listed.

I knew his wedding was this month, and I was desperate to get to him before he made the mistake that I almost made. New York is a big city; I doubted I would ever run into him. There was nothing I could do, short of hiring a private detective, but Rosie was hearing none of that.

One night she asked why I thought it was any of my business, and I reminded her that a sweet young lady named Rachel Black would end up paying the ultimate price for his confusion. It was a low blow, stirring up those feelings in her; I knew it would, but I needed her to understand. She backed off after that, leaving me to close up on my own.

I heard footsteps making their way across the main floor as I was wiping down the mirrors in the adjacent studio. I yelled out, "Rosie, my love, you come back to help me?" but it was a man that stood in my doorway, shivering from the frigid December air.

"Sorry, sir, but we're closed for the night. If you would like to come back in the morning or call to set up a lesson, I would gladly…"

"Emmett," the man whispered, his voice scratchy. "It's me, Paul." The timid man in front of me looked nothing like the Paul from just a few weeks ago. Just his very demeanor was in direct conflict with the one he displayed when we first met.

"Paul," I sighed. A feeling of relief settled over me that he was willing to seek me out. I knew why he was here. He had come to grips with who he is. He finally realized that he was only hurting himself and eventually Rachel if he kept hiding.

"I know you probably don't want to see me, but I-I r-r-really have n-no one," he stuttered out, before I realized just how hard he was trembling. I understood that it wasn't the chill in the air that was causing his tremors, but fear.

"Paul." I paused to wait for him to look up at me. "Please relax; I don't mind you being here."

"Rosalie?" His eyes darted everywhere, searching for her.

"The big bad witch isn't here, so no reason to worry." I smiled, hoping the joke would calm him down, and it seemed to work because a small smile broke across his face.

"C-can I t-talk to you?"

"Sure thing, let's go into my office so you can warm up. Then you can ask me anything you like." His eyebrow shot up, most likely to question how I knew he wanted to ask me something. "Let's just say I have walked way more than a mile in your shoes." He nodded at this as I directed him toward the office and went to lock up.

"So you know?" he mumbled as he took another sip of his tea.

"So I know what, Paul?"

"That I'm..." He paused, shoulders slumped, eyes to the floor, voice lowered to a mere whisper. "That I'm g-gay," he breathed.

"Yes."

I watched his face crumple in fear. "How did you know? Am I really obvious? What if Rachel..?"

I shook my head to make him stop and listen. "No, Paul, please calm down. No, you are not really obvious; believe me. It took me a while to figure it out, and I'm usually good at that sort of thing. I just wanted to hear you tell me yourself. Is that the first time you've ever told someone?"

He nodded. "It's the first time I've ever said it out loud." His eyes lowered to the floor.

It was going to be a long road to make him see that he didn't need to be ashamed that he was gay; but this was just the beginning, and I knew what the beginning felt like...despair. I had already decided to help him find his way out of what felt hopeless at the moment. In order for him to realize how well I understood, he had to know my history.

"Can I tell you a story?" I waited for him to acknowledge me, and when he gave a curt nod, I began. "It's the story about the time I stopped lying to myself and everyone I loved. When I stopped being afraid of the reactions of others and took the reins of my life back into my own hands. How I hurt one of the most wonderful people I will ever know in this world but saved her from a lifetime of suffering had I said nothing. This is the story of how I came out."

He looked at me, terror and empathy shining in his eyes.

"Rosalie," I said simply. The stunned look on his face made me chuckle. "Seven years ago, I was engaged to a beautiful, intelligent, kind, sexy as hell dancer by the name of Rosalie Hale. She and I had hit it off within minutes of meeting, like we were meant to know each other. I was still deep in the closet, lying to everyone, including myself.

"Two years of dating and dancing together. I was happy to keep things like that forever, but everyone was pushing for us to get married. Not wanting to disappoint my family, I went along with it and proposed. I was starting to realize I couldn't hide the real me any longer, and the thought that I even had to made me a very angry person.

"I lashed out, made macho comments, started fights...basically, I was an asshole. Rosalie knew something was wrong; she knew that wasn't the real me. She was willing to postpone the wedding because she was afraid I wasn't ready. She told me she would wait for me forever if she had to. I began to think about what would happen to this amazing woman if I married her and forced her to live my lie. I couldn't hurt her like that."

The tears started to form in my eyes as I remembered the night I told her.

"The worst moment of my entire life was telling her, seeing her beautiful face dissolve into a mask of pain, watching her fall to the ground and scream 'why' over and over." I shook my head to get rid of the images lodged there. Clearing my throat, I continued, "I ended up losing her in my life, along with a few family members and friends, when I officially came out."

I looked at Paul to see his head in his hands gripping his hair tightly. I had just scratched the surface of all his fears, and I knew it. "It's hopeless," he breathed.

"No, it isn't." He looked at me with incredulity in his eyes. "Ask me if I would do it all over again, and I'll answer yes in a heartbeat. Despite the losses, there were still so many that supported me, plus the weight I felt lifted from my soul was incredible. I chose to focus on the good instead of the bad and, believe me, there was so much good in finally living my life as me.

"Eventually Rosie forgave me. It took a couple of years, but we needed each other in some form, so we chose to remain friends. We love each other like family, support each other in everything we do, and protect each another like mama bears protect their cubs. I have friends that love me, I own and teach at my own studio, and I get to do it all as a free gay man. Life is what you make it. Start making yours."

I tilted my head and watched his expression as he took in my words. I hoped he would take that first step.

"I'm so scared." His voice was shaky.

"That, my friend, is normal. This is a big moment, and you have every human right to be afraid. But I wanted you to know that I will be here for you. I will be one of those friends that stick around. Okay?"

Paul nodded, a shy smile breaking across his face, and I knew in that moment that he wanted to start living life as himself.

Six months ago:

It was so bad. I felt like an idiot for advising Paul to tell Rachel, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Apparently Rachel flipped her wig ten times worse than Rosie and outed him to both hers and his family. His father, mother, and older brother Sam disowned him and wouldn't take his calls. Her family went apeshit and wanted to sue him for the money they lost on the wedding.

His best friend Jacob, Rachel's brother, was completely torn. Jake wanted to be there for his friend, but he was worried about his sister. At least he didn't shut him out completely - there's hope for him. The silver linings were Paul's brother Jared and his friend Seth. They were amazing guys, giving him the support and love he needed. It really helped me to get him through the whole thing in one piece.

But the real godsend was my Rosalie; she was an angel. She realized just how bad off I was when she disappeared and I had to go through this without her. She was trying to make amends to me by helping with Paul. I kept telling her there was nothing to make up for, but - Rosalie being Rosalie - she just continued to be supportive.

I seriously love that woman.

I meant it when I promised to be here whenever he needed me, so I tended to be the shoulder he cried on the most...and he cried...and cried...and cried. In those moments, I felt so helpless, comforting him the best I could, hoping it was enough. Hoping I was enough.

Four months ago:

I wasn't supposed to fall for him; I was just supposed to be his friend. You know, the guy he goes to for answers, the guy that has been through this before, his solid in a world of insubstantial.

He wasn't supposed to fall for me; he only just came out. He was still getting over the fallout from his life-changing moment. He needed to adjust slowly, to discover who he is on his own. The last thing he needed was a boyfriend.

Regardless of all the reasons why we shouldn't, it doesn't matter...because we did. Sometimes life confused me, but I guess it was fate that brought him into my studio. I was meant to not just help him, but to love him - and I do. He was meant to bring love back into my life, after years of feeling unworthy of anyone.

I didn't know how to explain it, and I didn't know if I wanted to try. All I knew was that we loved each other and, despite everything that seemed wrong about us, it felt very right.

Three months ago:

"Babe?"

He looked at me, hazel eyes questioning. I watched his pink tongue poke out from behind his luscious red lips and had to keep a groan from escaping mine. I wanted to fucking jump him right there in the U-Haul. I watched a bead of sweat make a slow path down his caramel chest down through his sculpted abs and settle in that sexy line of hair that I glimpsed at the top of his low-slung basketball shorts.

"Em?"

"Em."

"Emmett?"

"Wha-?" I looked at my boy, my cheeks flushed as I realized I had been standing there with my mouth hanging open and eye fucking the shit out of him. I shook my head, and he just smiled. "Sorry, babe. I was just wondering if you ever heard that joke about the lesbians and the U-haul."

Still giving me that wicked smile for catching me ogling him, he shook his head 'no'.

"Oh. Well, the joke goes: what does a lesbian bring on a second date?"

He watched me, his lips curving in amusement.

"A U-Haul. Get it? A U-Haul." He just looked at me like I was crazy, and my cheeks burned once again. "I just...you know...found it funny because we're two gay men... moving in together after ...such a ...short time," I mumbled.

His hand found my chin, and he lifted my eyes to his face, where I was greeted with his killer smile.
"I'm nervous, too, baby." He brushed his lips against both corners of my mouth and then softly pressed his mouth to mine. It had quickly become a ritual for us to kiss each other this way; it was one of our things, and it conveyed so much. "I love you." "I'm here for you." "Please, just hold me."

Pecking his lips softly, I let their smooth texture calm me. His arms embraced me, pulling me closer. My head fell onto his shoulder as I inhaled his scent, letting it wash over me and calm me, letting his hands soothe me as they ran up and down my back. After what felt like a lifetime of peace in his arms, we broke apart, and he kissed me one more time before we both got back to work.

"Baby?" he called as he headed into the apartment to grab some more boxes.

"Yeah?" I popped my head out of the back of the truck.

"The joke...it was pretty funny." With that, he winked, and I watched him head through the door.

Jackass.

Speaking of ass...his is pretty fine.

Two months ago:

"Emmet, please baby," he whispered, running his hands up the back of my neck into my hair. A low growl escaped my lips, and he smiled. He knew I loved it when he did that. "I need you." He kissed the corner of my mouth. "Need to feel you." He kissed the other corner. "Now, baby," he begged. His lips met mine in a scorching kiss I felt all the way to my toes.

Fuck! I love it when he begs.

I pulled my mouth from his to tease him just a bit.

"Baby, no," he choked out, "...please." His fingertips skimmed down my back, sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. Searching for the waistband of my jeans, he had no trouble slipping his fingers beneath to cup my ass as I hovered above him on our bed. Tugging me down on top of him, he thrust his hips up into me, and I groaned at the contact. The final straw was the little pout on his lips.

Damn. My boy is getting really good at pushing my buttons.

I crashed my lips down onto his hard, devouring him. Relentless in my assault on his sinful mouth, I licked and nibbled until he opened to me. I slid my tongue in to meet his, and I was in heaven. Kissing my boy was one of my favorite things to do.

I loved the way he always let me dominate at first, letting me push him back, bend his will. I relished that he would gain force by challenging me a bit, slipping his tongue past mine into my mouth, taking control. I enjoyed when we would both surrender and let the passion take over, savoring each other. loving one another.

Passion was always the winner.

He broke the kiss, panting for breath as he stared into my eyes. I loved seeing him like this, so lost in me, in us.

"Please," he begged again.

"You're sure, babe? There's no rush. I'll wait for you, forever if I have to."

"I know..." He nodded. "..but I'm ready."

The reassurance from him was all I needed. Sure, I was terrified of hurting him, but I knew I could do this. My lips peppered his chest and abs with kisses and gentle licks. Slowly I rid him of the rest of his clothes. His cock jutted out proud, hard and thick; I had to lean forward to kiss the tip, and his moan was all the encouragement I needed to continue.

My tongue poked out to lick him once from base to tip before I sunk my mouth down around him, taking him all the way in. I moved up and down his shaft, sucking a bit harder each time, knowing it drove him crazy, licking and swallowing over and over. Paul's groans grew louder with each pass; he dug his hands into my hair, setting the rhythm he liked.

"Fuck, Em...oh, god."

I brought him to the brink before I slowed down. He needed to be relaxed for what we were going to do, but I wanted to see him come against his chest as I came deep inside him. Reaching across the bed, I grabbed the bottle to lube my fingers well before I slid one finger inside him.

God, he feels so good. So hot, so tight, so perfect.

My finger pumped a few times before I added a second to stretch him for me. I kept my eyes on him, gauging his reaction to make sure this was all pleasure and not too much pain. I slid my fingers deeper to stroke his prostate before flicking my tongue out to tease the head of his delicious cock.

"Oh god...ungh...Em...fuuuuuck...baby...so good."

His words, along with his grunts and moans, had me so fucking hard in my jeans, I thought I would break the zipper. I had to get them off, but I was struggling since one hand was buried in his sexy ass.

Paul sat up swiftly, making my fingers slip from him, and undid my fly. He helped me slide my jeans down my legs and off my body. I had never been so happy to be going commando in my life.

I saw him lick his lips a few times at the sight of my dick and was tempted to let him have the taste I know he wanted, but we had plans. My hand on his chest, I pressed him back onto the mattress. Lubing my fingers again, I returned them to his tight heat, adding a third. He sucked in a breath, and I stopped my motions.

"You okay, babe?"

"Yes," he breathed, "...please don't...don't stop."

Bending over him to capture his lips with mine, I let everything fade. He sent me such love and fervor with each kiss, and I cherished the feeling, keeping it close to my heart before I sent it back to him. My mouth traveled his jaw, nipping and licking, continuing on to his neck and chest, laving him with affection.

He turned his head from left to right repeatedly, mumbling and moaning. He started to buck up into my hand, and I knew he was ready for me. My hand slid from him, and his eyes snapped to mine, a fiery blaze of lust within their depths. He wanted me just as bad as I wanted him.

Sheathing myself in the condom, I added a generous amount of lube to my throbbing erection before spreading his cheeks to coat him with my wet fingers. I aligned my body against him, only to feel him tense up. Fear flashed in his eyes, but it was gone after a moment as he nodded his head to me.

Taking his face in my hands, my thumbs stroked his cheeks as I leaned in to kiss him. I pushed into him slowly, kissing away the small cry from his lips at the pain of the intrusion. I watched his eyes go wide and then slam shut as I slipped further inside. My hands were always somewhere on his body - soothing, stroking, rubbing. My lips murmured words of love and adoration, both trying to take the sting away.

Once fully seated inside him, I fought my body to remain still. He needed time to adjust, and even though it was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life - besides coming out - I remained still. He felt so good around me, so right.

Fuck... so tight.

Paul's kisses on my neck became hungrier, his groans louder, and his eyes opened and focused on me. Soon his hips thrusted up into mine, and I knew it was okay to move. I pulled back, then pushed in hard a few times, finding a slow cadence that had him panting and digging his fingers into my ass cheeks.

"More...fuck, baby... harder."

Who was I to deny the man?

Our mouths met on occasion in hot, fevered kisses, and when his tongue wasn't in my mouth, our lips searched each other's bodies for the spots that would drive the other crazy - kissing, licking, sucking, biting. Our fingers were hungry for each other as well, flying over our heated forms, bringing out moans and growls neither of us had ever heard. I slid my hand between our bodies and gripped his cock, pumping him in time with my thrusts.

I had fucked and been fucked by other men, and Paul had made love to me, but I had never made love to a man. That was exactly what I was doing with Paul, and the feeling was incredible. His moans hit a higher pitch when I shifted his hips and began to hit spots so deep inside him on every other stroke.

"Em," he whimpered, "...baby...gonna come."

My hand sped up. I flicked my thumb over the head a few times, hearing his groans of pleasure. I was buried so far in bliss that I didn't want to leave ever, but the burning in my thighs and tightness of my balls told me I didn't have much longer.

"Emmett," he screamed before his ass clamped down around my cock and thick jets of cum shot between us all over his chest and my hand.

Seeing the look of pure ecstasy on his face sent me full throttle over the edge. I came hard and fast, and I didn't know how long it would take me to get down from heaven.

After we finally did return to earth, we cleaned up our mess, and then I held him in my arms as we lay in bed snuggling each other tight.

"Paul?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me. That was a gift you gave me, and I will be eternally grateful that you chose to trust me."

He kissed my lips softly and looked into my eyes. "It's because I love you, Em. I love you very much."

"I love you, too, babe."

Six weeks ago:

"Whatever you want to pack. I don't care," Paul blurted in a despondent tone that had me on edge.
We were planning our trip up to Connecticut for Jasper and Edward's wedding in a few weeks, and I was trying to think through what we were going to need to pack when Paul had just...shut down. In fact, if I really thought about it, this started about the time the invitation showed up two weeks ago, not too long after I had made love to him, and I was really starting to worry.

"I just wanted to know if you were planning on buying something specifically for the trip..."

"Whatever you want," he answered bluntly.

I grasped for his arm to pull him to me, but before I could make contact, he backed away out of my reach.

"Babe, what's wrong?"

He winced, and my heart started pounding so hard I couldn't hear anything but its fevered tempo in my ears. Something about the way he wouldn't look me in the eye scared me.

"Em, can we sit down please?"

"Sure, do you want me to make you something to drink? Tea?"

"No. Just...please, can we sit?" He motioned to the couch, and I took my place next to him. As I turned my body to face him, I couldn't help but notice the distance he had put between us, choosing to sit almost at the end.

I stared at him, waiting for him to speak, fighting my nerves every second he was silent. I forced my breakfast to stay down with every tick of the clock. I knew something was seriously wrong. I shouldn't have brushed off his odd behavior the previous two weeks. I had never been more afraid, and he still wouldn't look at me.

This is bad.

"I can't do this," he whispered.

My eyes closed.

Don't overreact. Maybe he means something else.

"What can't you do?" I whispered back. If this was what I thought it was, then I wanted him to say it. Out loud.

"Em, I can't...I'm sorry...I can't. I really thought I could, but it's too much, too fast. I don't know what you want from me. I don't know if I could ever be as out and free as you. It's just..."

"Did you ever think to ask me what I want from you?" The venom in my tone unmistakable. "I only ever want to love you. I thought you loved me too," I finish, my voice faltering.

"I do love you, but..."

"But NOTHING! If you loved me, you wouldn't cut and run the second you got scared," I spat. "I'm scared, too...you remember that? The day we were moving in together. You were the one to reassure me. What happened to you? Have I ever made you feel like I was pushing you too fast? Have I?"

He shook his head, his eyes focused on the couch cushion. He took a breath like he was preparing himself before bringing his eyes to mine. "I'm not ready to get married...to a man, to anyone. I can't be that for you."

I sat in shock, wondering what I did that made him think I would pressure him into something he was not ready for, especially marriage. As I took in the steely glint in his eyes, I knew there was nothing I could say or do to make him stay. He felt like he couldn't do this; he felt like he had to go. So I could do nothing but let him go. Unfortunately, he would be taking my heart with him, leaving in its place a shattered ghost of its former occupant.

He left.

Present Day:

"Emmett, please?" his voice rasped, and I winced. It had been six weeks since I had last heard that voice, a voice I knew in my sleep.

"Stay the fuck away from him," I heard Rosie growl from where she stood.

Turning slowly, fighting the fear knotted in my stomach, I looked up at the glorious face of the owner of my heart. He was still so beautiful. Flawless caramel skin, expressive hazel eyes, waves of soft black hair, strong jaw, full red lips.

I sighed, "So beautiful." But through his beauty, I could tell that life had not been kind to him. There were dark circles under his eyes, which were not sparkling with their usual light. He looked to have lost weight; his hair was a mess, his clothes rumpled, and his perfect bottom lip looked like it had been split recently.

I stood, his body mere inches from mine, and I could still feel it all; everything was still there. Everything that was us was pulsing, waiting for us to acknowledge it. I raised my hand to gently rub my finger over his lip, wondering if someone hurt him. He took my hand in his own, pressing his lips to it lightly.

"Emmett?" he asked, eyes on mine searching, begging. "May I please have this dance?"

Rosalie started to make her way around the table towards us. I held my hand up to her, my eyes locking on hers, beseeching. She sighed, sending a curt nod my way, but not before giving Paul the most hateful look I had ever seen her give.

Following him onto the dance floor, I heard the first notes of Journey's "Open Arms" and I laughed a bit. Of course Paul would want to waltz to a cheesy eighties ballad - at least he chose a song that was in 3/4 time.

We took our positions, and I let him lead. As we made our way across the dance floor, everything came tumbling back with so much force that I gasped for breath.

Our life together was playing out for us, all the feeling at once: our rocky start, our friendship, his pain, our love, and finally our combined heartache. I knew he felt it, too, because his arms gripped me tighter with every passing moment. I felt him quaking from the strength of the emotions beneath my fingertips. It seemed fate was giving us a way to heal, a way back to one another.

With each natural turn, a bit of my pain dissolved. Each whisk brought a piece of my shattered heart back together. By the time he led me into a reverse turn, I was ready to place all my unease behind me and try to just be with him.

Paul pulled me closer, bringing his lips against my ear before he whispered the lyrics to the chorus to me. His voice was desperate, and I could hear the trepidation.

So now I come to you with open arms
Nothing to hide, believe what I say
So here I am with open arms
Hoping you'll see what your love means to me
Open arms

Yes, it may have been one of the corniest songs I knew, but I understood why he chose it. He was trying to tell me in his own way that he was ready for a life with me. Whatever life I wanted, he wanted to share it with me.

He loved me.

Inhaling deeply, I pulled back to look in his eyes. They would tell me everything I needed to know. He brought his gaze to mine, and I exhaled.

"Paul," I breathed, taking him into my arms for a deep hug, not caring that we had stopped waltzing. Our bodies held each other while we swayed to the music, not hearing anything but each other's breath.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," he sobbed into my shoulder. "Please, forgive me. Please, I'm rea..."

My lips cut him off as they took his in a searing kiss. I used them to show him I forgave him, missed him, but most of all, I loved him. Repeated gentle kisses rained down on his lips before he pulled back, hissing slightly. My thumb ran over the spot where his bottom lip was split, and I raised my brow, questioning him with worry in my eyes.

"Don't worry about that, Em. A smart, amazing person made me see how stupid I was being right before she showed me a wicked right hook."

I turned my head to look for Rosalie, but he grabbed my chin, forcing me to face him.

"No, I deserved it. In fact, I deserve worse for hurting you. You are the most amazing man I ever met. She just reminded me how lucky I was to actually have your love, and how much of an asshole I was for throwing it away. Emmett...baby...I love you so much, and I am so sorry for acting like a fool. I was scared and..." He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes on the floor "I don't deserve your forgiveness or your love, but now that you've graciously given both back to me, I will do everything in my power to keep them."

The song ended and another began. From the corner of my eye, I saw other couples making their way onto the dance floor, including the grooms. Ed and Jazz eyed me, concern on their faces. I shook them off before returning my attention to the man in my arms.

"Paul." I waited for him to bring his beautiful hazel eyes to mine. "May I please have this dance?"

"Forever, baby...forever." He smiled and kissed me gently as we took the floor in each other's arms, where we belong.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed my slash cherry popping. Had to do it for Nae...love her too much. There is a link to the banner I made Nae for this story in my profile :)

Waltz terminology

Natural Turn:

In simple terms, the Natural Turn is a fundamental figure consisting of six steps that turns to the right and progresses generally down line of dance. Most of the ballroom dances have a figure called a Natural Turn, and depending on the character of the dance, the timing, rise and fall, amount of rotation, etc. will vary.

In the Slow Waltz, the figure begins with man facing diagonal wall and will rotate 3/4 of a turn to right over six steps to end facing diagonal center. Emphasis is placed on creating the effect of swinging motion of the bodies through space, and maximizing rise as the feet come together on the 3rd and 6th steps.

When the Natural Turn is combined with Closed Changes and Reverse Turns, a dancer will have sufficient material with which to navigate around the floor.

Whisk:

The Whisk is one of the few steps in beginning Waltz ended in promenade position. It consists of three steps that progress down the line of dance, but can also be used to turn corners or change alignments, depending on the amount of turn and who is doing the turning.

The basic Whisk begins in closed position with man facing diagonal wall, and ends in promenade position, ready to travel down the line of dance. The man has no turn, but opens the lady to promenade position (lady turns 1/4 to the right) between steps 1 and 2, and both cross the moving leg behind the standing leg on step 3, achieving the final, characteristic position of the Whisk.

Reverse Turn:

In simple terms, the Reverse Turn is a fundamental figure consisting of six steps that turns to the left and progresses generally down line of dance. Most of the ballroom dances have a figure called a Reverse Turn, and depending on the character of the dance, the timing, rise and fall, amount of rotation, etc. will vary.

In the Slow Waltz, the figure begins with man facing diagonal center and will rotate 3/4 of a turn to the left over six steps to end facing diagonal wall. Emphasis is placed on creating the effect of swinging motion of the bodies through space, and maximizing rise as the feet come together on the 3rd and 6th steps.

When the Reverse Turn is combined with Closed Changes and Natural Turns, a dancer will have sufficient material with which to navigate around the floor.