[ it should be an easy answer. yes. sure. probably. of course it did, because it always does. but the truth is he doesn't know. the truth is he had no plans to fuck hawkins fuller that night, because he hadn't fucked him since coming back from the dead — until then — because hawk fucked danny and then got himself murdered what apparently was seconds later, and embry is having a pathetically awful time getting over anything that's ever happened in the last several months.
the second time was worse. so much worse, because he thinks he forced hawk into it, his demented reenactment of the first time, and now? now he's not talking to hawk at all.
did it feel good? he looks at parisa with a vacant expression that only barely covers the depth of his mistakes behind one simple question. ]
I'm swearing off gay men.
[ much more compelling is unzipping parisa from her dress, letting it fall to the bathroom floor and then being faced with the sight of her. why she's standing there, unmoving, watching him in the nude, is a mystery for another day; he doesn't think about that. he is presently occupied with thoughts of how fucking hot she is, which is a thing technically impossible to forget when he's around her, and yet it's not always at the forefront of his mind. parisa has become a household staple, like a cat, like a sister, and so when he remembers that she's actually mind-numbingly gorgeous, it's like christmas all over again.
the scar is only the third or fourth thing he sees. there are, literally, so many more interesting things to look at. he doesn't hate parisa's scar like she does, because he has one of his own, and embry loves nothing more than someone else sharing in his misery. he hates being alone in anything, after all. ]
We'll ignore that you just diagnosed me, a perfectly stable and healthy young man, with ten different disorders. [ why focus on "should"? because they should. ] If you want to tie me up, Parisa, you can do that any time of the day. But for the record, you can't tie me up every single night. If once a month is the pattern, I still don't know what day of the month.
[ he scoffs. a reason he went after hawk and danny. as if he's fucking obsessed with them, or something. shut up. ]
It happens at night, after I fall asleep. I'm pretty sure I'm sleepwalking. Hawk said he didn't notice me acting any different, really. I was just quieter than usual, but I was responding. That's the fucked up part. People won't know that it's not me. [ he gestures toward her with his glass. ] And what about you? When you get the urge to go all cannibal again, are you gonna call me?
( parisa nods, an over-exaggerated motion for her, mouthing the word oh-kay. she is very abruptly reminded of callum insisting he was going to kill tristan, because neither embry nor callum are in particularly good communication with their hearts, and because fruity men apparently don't know how to love something without wanting to kill it, a little. honestly. she's giving up gay men too, but not gideon. or louis.
luckily he passes her artificial test of loyalty. not really to parisa, but at least to her beauty, which he is passably entranced by. at least embry is also reliable in that direction — he'll always go for the low (or in this case, high) hanging fruit. )
Really? That seems exactly like the kind of thing you'd be into, my perfectly stable and healthy young man. ( there's a wave of her hand, like shuffling embry's worries under the fridge with all the other crumbs you don't feel like dealing with. she slams the rest of her whiskey down like a shot, head rolling on her shoulders as she shudders through the hot waves of liquor hitting her system. ) I'd know it wasn't you, from your brain. One month, you let me lock you in your room every night, but I keep the doors between our suites opened so you have no choice but to come to me. I'll know more about it once I see it.
( that's the easy solution. as for her problem — parisa casts her gaze to the side, glaring at a stained glass window in their bathroom, shaking her head. )
I can argue with the urge for awhile. So I just fight it until I get to the forest, or somewhere I can catch little Bambis or something. ( a shrug ) I could ask for a supply of livestock, but I don't want to take care of them.
[ a sexy concept, made less so by the idea of his forced captivity (although there's something sexy in that, too). it's not enough to keep him from sinking into a sour mood as he considers all the ways this could go very wrong. he could pick up a vase and crack parisa's skull open. he could have mind-blowing sex that he'll never remember having. both of these options are devastating. ]
I'll do it if you can put safety measures in place. [ he is not stumbling upon any more corpses of anyone he cares about. he no longer has the constitution for the amount of death the house demands, and he wonders how he ever did during the war. ] Neither of us can predict what I might do, so something in that big brain of yours has to be able to stop me.
[ he grimaces at the thought of parisa sinking her perfect white teeth into bambi's throat, but then finds the thought of her traipsing into the woods to catch her furry, wiggling dinner ludicrous at best. he considers offering to do the dirty work for her, but hunting rabbits feels equally ludicrous for himself. ]
Ash wanted to live in the country and raise animals. I could probably convince him to take care of your livestock collection. [ a purse of his lips. ] Well, if he knew you were just gonna kill them in the freakiest way possible, he might not want to do it.
The ducks and rabbits are pretty easy to feed, if you need something to come quick.
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the second time was worse. so much worse, because he thinks he forced hawk into it, his demented reenactment of the first time, and now? now he's not talking to hawk at all.
did it feel good? he looks at parisa with a vacant expression that only barely covers the depth of his mistakes behind one simple question. ]
I'm swearing off gay men.
[ much more compelling is unzipping parisa from her dress, letting it fall to the bathroom floor and then being faced with the sight of her. why she's standing there, unmoving, watching him in the nude, is a mystery for another day; he doesn't think about that. he is presently occupied with thoughts of how fucking hot she is, which is a thing technically impossible to forget when he's around her, and yet it's not always at the forefront of his mind. parisa has become a household staple, like a cat, like a sister, and so when he remembers that she's actually mind-numbingly gorgeous, it's like christmas all over again.
the scar is only the third or fourth thing he sees. there are, literally, so many more interesting things to look at. he doesn't hate parisa's scar like she does, because he has one of his own, and embry loves nothing more than someone else sharing in his misery. he hates being alone in anything, after all. ]
We'll ignore that you just diagnosed me, a perfectly stable and healthy young man, with ten different disorders. [ why focus on "should"? because they should. ] If you want to tie me up, Parisa, you can do that any time of the day. But for the record, you can't tie me up every single night. If once a month is the pattern, I still don't know what day of the month.
[ he scoffs. a reason he went after hawk and danny. as if he's fucking obsessed with them, or something. shut up. ]
It happens at night, after I fall asleep. I'm pretty sure I'm sleepwalking. Hawk said he didn't notice me acting any different, really. I was just quieter than usual, but I was responding. That's the fucked up part. People won't know that it's not me. [ he gestures toward her with his glass. ] And what about you? When you get the urge to go all cannibal again, are you gonna call me?
no subject
luckily he passes her artificial test of loyalty. not really to parisa, but at least to her beauty, which he is passably entranced by. at least embry is also reliable in that direction — he'll always go for the low (or in this case, high) hanging fruit. )
Really? That seems exactly like the kind of thing you'd be into, my perfectly stable and healthy young man. ( there's a wave of her hand, like shuffling embry's worries under the fridge with all the other crumbs you don't feel like dealing with. she slams the rest of her whiskey down like a shot, head rolling on her shoulders as she shudders through the hot waves of liquor hitting her system. ) I'd know it wasn't you, from your brain. One month, you let me lock you in your room every night, but I keep the doors between our suites opened so you have no choice but to come to me. I'll know more about it once I see it.
( that's the easy solution. as for her problem — parisa casts her gaze to the side, glaring at a stained glass window in their bathroom, shaking her head. )
I can argue with the urge for awhile. So I just fight it until I get to the forest, or somewhere I can catch little Bambis or something. ( a shrug ) I could ask for a supply of livestock, but I don't want to take care of them.
no subject
I'll do it if you can put safety measures in place. [ he is not stumbling upon any more corpses of anyone he cares about. he no longer has the constitution for the amount of death the house demands, and he wonders how he ever did during the war. ] Neither of us can predict what I might do, so something in that big brain of yours has to be able to stop me.
[ he grimaces at the thought of parisa sinking her perfect white teeth into bambi's throat, but then finds the thought of her traipsing into the woods to catch her furry, wiggling dinner ludicrous at best. he considers offering to do the dirty work for her, but hunting rabbits feels equally ludicrous for himself. ]
Ash wanted to live in the country and raise animals. I could probably convince him to take care of your livestock collection. [ a purse of his lips. ] Well, if he knew you were just gonna kill them in the freakiest way possible, he might not want to do it.
The ducks and rabbits are pretty easy to feed, if you need something to come quick.