SLASH BACKSLASH ONE-SHOT CONTEST
Story Name: "Into the Open"
Pen name: avioleta
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or the lovely characters. Rated M.
To see other entries in the "SLASH BACKSLASH" contest, please visit the C2: http ://www. fanfiction. net/c2/74941/3/0/1/
a/n: My first shot at slash. Give it a try...you just might like it. Enjoy with love.
I remember the first time it happened.
We'd gone to dinner together the night we met. His fingers brushed against mine as we walked side-by-side across campus and then again as we both reached for trays in the dining hall.
I felt his body heat flash hot across my skin, and he arched an eyebrow as gray eyes pierced my own.
I realize now what he was asking.
The next time it happened, I was caught completely off guard again. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have been all that surprised; perhaps I should have known it all along.
It was after a swim meet. It was just an early season dual meet of no particular importance, but I'd swam well. I won both my 100 and 200 breast, and our medley relay was already approaching the school record. By Conference we should have no problem surpassing that mark.
Jasper had come to the meet; he'd caught a few so far when his practice schedule allowed. He came down on deck afterwards. I noticed him watching me as I dried off and walked over to him, rubbing my towel over my hair.
He clapped me on the shoulder, a wicked grin on his face, and congratulated me on a good swim. It was an ordinary gesture, but my reaction was anything but. His touch sent sparks shivering across my damp skin. They slid down my spine and twisted in my stomach and made me hard.
What the fuck…?
I sucked in a sharp breath, as my thoughts swirled in my head, dissolving and reforming again. But all I knew for certain was how glad I was that I had my drag suit on because there was no way my race suit alone would conceal my massive hard on.
But for a moment, I swear I saw his eyes flit down my body before pausing for a brief instant on my less than inconspicuous erection. A smile played across his lips, but he stepped back, and we stood there awkwardly for a few seconds.
My head was muddled, but I managed to put together a semi-coherent sentence: "Yea, so some of the guys and I are gonna go grab pizza. Want to join?"
He nodded, and I realized that I was far too happy about his decision.
"I'm gonna take a quick shower. If you want to wait a few minutes, we can go together."
By the time I was in the locker room, I was able to shake off the strange reaction my body had to Jasper's touch. I was simply tired and overworked. Add that to the natural high you get on finishing a good race and, well, yea… of course my senses were off…heightened…whatever.
I showered and changed quickly, eager to get back outside and off to dinner. Jazz was waiting for me on the bench outside the locker room. He sat, elbows resting on his knees, a peculiar look on his face. But he smoothed his expression immediately on seeing me and stood up, running a hand through blonde hair.
My stomach twisted and tightened when I saw him there waiting for me. I instantly wrote the reaction off to hunger or residual adrenaline left over from the meet. But even though I wouldn't admit it then, I knew it was neither of those things.
We were silent as I drove the short way to the restaurant. Jasper fiddled with my iPod and then leaned back, stretching long legs out as far as they could go in front of him. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, realizing that I was strangely aware of his every breath, his every move.
But then I realized that he was watching me too, and I heard his breath catch in his throat as he dragged his tongue across his lower lip.
The air was heavy with something entirely indefinable, but we were there. I took a deep breath to steady myself as I climbed out of the car.
I'd always known he was attractive.
I noticed that the moment we met.
Blonde, wavy hair, clear skin, and his eyes… piercing gray, like slate or the sky just before it rains. I love his eyes.
I often found myself watching him, but it was easy to believe that I was simply drawn to his beauty, much like Basil in The Picture of Dorian Gray.
He was playing guitar one afternoon. I sat, pretending to read, but I couldn't help but look up at him every few moments.
His eyes were closed; it was easy to get lost in the music. I found it funny. He only listened to punk, but when he played it was folksy and soft, like Mike Ness devoid of Social Distortion.
His long fingers moved agilely across the strings. His foot tapped against the floor.
"See something you like?" His low voice startled me out of my reverie.
"I, um…new song?" I asked foolishly.
He shook his head, eyes gleaming with something I didn't recognize. "I don't mind you know." He winked, and I looked back down at my book, pretending that I didn't know what he was offering.
Jasper sat beside me at dinner after the meet. He didn't say much but was content to listen as my teammates and I discussed our swims and our upcoming practice schedule.
At one point, I felt Jazz's foot brush against mine under the table. I felt the same crackle of energy between us as I had at the pool. I jerked my leg away, but the room still sagged with the weight of it.
Jasper glanced my direction but quickly dropped his gaze back to his pizza; I got the feeling that he hadn't touched me by accident.
And that thought…excited me?
Instinctively, I moved my foot back toward his. I was stunned by the unexpected electricity that flowed through me once again. My body responded instantly, and I felt myself harden slightly.
Again, I was startled. My mind immediately tried to rationalize my body's reaction. It had to be a mistake, some sort of glitch or something. I was tired and probably hadn't been getting enough rest recently. Still, I couldn't explain the overwhelming desire I felt to reach out and touch…
I shook my head as if to shake away that traitorous thought and busied myself by taking another slice of pizza.
Jazz shifted his leg so his knee was touching mine. My body tensed, and he turned to me, monitoring my reaction. But it felt…good. I relaxed again, moving slightly so my shin was pressed against his calf.
He took a sip of water.
Our legs were practically intertwined under the table, and it was not by accident. Quite the opposite really. It was deliberate. And I was enjoying it. My dick could attest to that.
We ate silently for a few minutes; I was no longer paying attention to what my teammates were talking about. My mind was too busy trying to make sense of what I was feeling.
I liked Jasper. I really did. We'd only known each other for a couple of months, but I already considered him a good friend.
But never once had I suspected that he liked me as anything more. I didn't even know he was gay. Wait… Was he gay?
I mean, thinking back, Jazz never brought any girls back to our dorm room, but then again, neither had I. But he listened to The Clash and Guns N Roses. He played baseball and always wore that old leather jacket. He drove a motorcycle for fuck's sake.
I always assumed he liked chicks.
But now, well… Did he feel what I did? Did I want him to? My stomach tightened and my dick twitched in my pants at the thought.
Okay. Something strange was going on, but I was excited that he might actually—
My thought process stopped there. Might actually what Edward? Like you? Be attracted to you? Want you? The idea filled me with a sense of anticipation and thrill.
I knew Jasper was attractive. And I knew that I'd found guys attractive before. At times, I'd even imagined myself being with a guy in that way. But it had always been strictly theoretical. And, never once had I dreamed that I might test that theory out on my roommate.
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. I watched his jaw moving as he ate. I watched as he pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes only to have it fall right back again. I watched his brow furrow as if he were considering something intently for a brief moment.
And, I resigned myself to the fact that watching him only made me impossibly harder.
But, he caught me staring. His lips curved into a playful smirk, and I blushed and looked away.
Then I felt his fingers brush against my knee.
He was flirting with me. Or he was just intentionally teasing the shit out of me. Regardless, I liked it very much.
I felt his hand drift further up my leg, and I moaned too loudly; I couldn't help it. He smirked again. And fuck me if that smirk wasn't the hottest thing I'd ever seen.
His fingers grazed the inside of my thigh.
This had to mean something.
"So Eddie, you think coach was serious about the nine 500s at morning practice tomorrow?" I heard my name, but the question barely registered because Jazz chose that moment to brush his fingers over my very hard dick. I practically choked on my soda, cursing under my breath. I saw Jasper's shoulders shake with silent laughter, but he didn't move his hand.
"Yea," I managed through clenched teeth. "I mean, it's, um, a rough set to do right after a meet, but I have the feeling practices are only going to get tougher now anyways."
The guys started sharing horror stories about peak season workouts and sets coach would surely have us do over the next few weeks. But I wasn't paying attention because Jazz's fingers were still trailing over my erection.
I moaned again.
No one heard…except Jasper of course. And he circled his thumb around the head of my dick in response.
I held my breath, placing my hands on the table, palms down. I was so incredibly turned on. And my control was wearing dangerously thin.
I moved my hand on top of his, pressing his palm against my cock. His breath caught, and he continued to rub me, harder now.
"Stop," I whispered, so quietly I knew no one else could hear. Still, I couldn't bring myself to move his hand.
"Why?" he breathed, leaning closer to me. "I think you like it."
"Yes," I admitted. "But you're about to make me cum."
"Perhaps that's my intent." His words slid like quicksilver over my skin, and it was all I could do not to give in.
Somehow though, I forced myself to grab his wrist, stopping his movement. He smiled wickedly, pulling my hand into his lap. I shuddered at his hardness, knowing I affected him as he did me.
Every university assures their incoming freshmen of the same thing: they will do their best to assign you the 'perfect' roommate. It's as though they've found some sort of miracle roommate formula, claiming they can match you based on 102 dimensions of compatibility and lifestyle criteria or some shit like that.
The initial survey reads more like an Internet dating service inquiry. 'Just answer these simple questions about your general lifestyle, your sleep, study, and socializing habits, and your priorities about guests, personal property, and orderliness and we'll be sure to find your ideal roommate.' Right…
And while your mother is preoccupied with mini-fridges and duvet covers, you're trying to play it cool, pretend it doesn't bother you one way or another. But, of course, inside you're freaking out that you'll be stuck with someone who snores, or smells, or has a Warcraft fetish, or a Bob Seger obsession, or whatever.
I maintain that they sort the freshman surveys into two piles, smokers and non-smokers. After that, it's just luck of the draw.
But regardless of whether it was 102 dimensions of compatibility criteria or one 'non-smoker' box later, I was matched with Jasper Whitlock.
It's funny, we both smoke, off-season at least; although, I doubt he checked that box on his roommate survey either. I mean, who does that? Your parents read that shit.
But that's neither here nor there.
I remember the day we met quite clearly. Jasper was late; he nearly missed the designated freshman move-in window. And, for a few short hours, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I'd be the elusive freshman who didn't get a roommate. But of course that never actually happens.
I think I probably glared at him when he finally arrived. Still, I couldn't help but be comfortable around him. His presence was calming, soothing even. And I knew it would be hard not to like him.
He'd brought minimal belongings with him. Just a pile of bedding, two suitcases, his backpack and laptop bag, and an old, beat-up guitar case. I was instantly pleased that my mother had insisted on that micro-fridge and a new television/dvd player.
Jasper Whitlock was a ball player from Houston, Texas. He'd been offered a full-ride to play second base for WU. I'd grown up not three hours from Seattle in Forks, Washington. But although our backgrounds were very dissimilar, we seemed to have a lot in common.
All in all, I'd say I got off pretty good as far as the roommate situation was concerned. Of course, it took me a while to realize just how well matched we actually were.
After dinner that first night, we went back to our dorm room together. We didn't speak, but the air was thick with sexual tension.
It thrummed in my veins and resonated between our bodies.
I was still incredibly turned on, but I had yet to come to terms with what that meant.
He unlocked the door and I followed, but he grabbed my wrist when I reached to turn on the light. I held my breath, waiting for whatever was about to happen.
He hadn't let go of my arm, and we stood inches from one another.
The light from the moon leaked through our window and made his tanned skin pale and incandescent.
He really was beautiful.
I could hear my heart pounding in my ears and his breathing, short and shallow, as he leaned toward me. His eyes searched mine; his lips parted slightly.
I stood still, body tensed in anticipation, as his lips brushed mine lightly. Once…twice…
He tentatively placed his hand on the small of my back and paused, lips barely touching mine. The air sparked, white hot and electric, and I was overwhelmed with the sensation of his breath on my skin.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself, as he continued to kiss me, hesitantly, cautiously, questioning.
But I relaxed against him, and he realized I wasn't going to pull away. He opened his mouth against mine then, and I could feel the intensity, urgency, and hunger there.
It excited and terrified me all at once. But he moved toward me, pressing his body flush to mine, and I could feel the outline of his erection against my thigh as he rocked his hips into me.
I shifted back, letting go of my reservations and simply enjoying the friction between our bodies. I groaned into his mouth as his tongue slid against mine. Slick and sweet. I was dizzy with the unreality of it all.
I slid one hand up his back to tangle fingers in his hair, while snaking the other down between us to feel him pressed hard against my palm.
"Fuck Edward…" he breathed, thrusting his hips into me as I rubbed my hand up and down his length.
My dick ached, as we continued to rub against each other. So good and yet not enough.
He pulled away, breathless but smiling. His eyes shone with playfulness and thrill, as they locked on mine.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," he whispered.
"And I wanted to know what you taste like…"
"Jasper, are you…gay?"
He smiled again, amusement playing across his lovely face. "Yes."
"Does this mean…" I paused, wanting to know and not know at the same time. But he stopped me there, pressing a fingertip to my lips
"I don't think it has to mean anything Edward."
He gripped my hips, moving me backward toward the bed. But it was too soon, and I still hadn't made sense of what was going on.
So I did the one thing I could think of. I mumbled something about needing to go to the library and grabbed my bag before ducking out the door.
I didn't come home that night, or the next night either, opting to sleep on a teammate's futon instead.
I think part of me always knew, but it never seemed to matter anyway. I turned heads both ways. I realized that, and it never bothered me. Flattery is flattery either way. I was in a few relationships in high school. Always with girls though. After all, that's how it's supposed to be.
I lost my virginity at sixteen to a girl named Tanya. She was a cheerleader. Pretty, bubbly, smiley. Nice tits, great ass. All the right things. I liked her, but she never really did it for me. And, when it came down to it, I think I had sex with her just to get it over with. I mean, you can't stay a sixteen-year-old virgin for too long. Especially when you can have practically any girl you want. And quite a few boys, evidently.
I guess, even then, I was worried about appearances. Although, I never would have admitted it.
I started dating Bella second semester our junior year. She'd transferred in mid-year after some sort of custody situation brought her to Washington to live with her father. As the new girl, she had a certain, foreseeable allure, and the excitement over her was tiresomely predictable. Within a week, half the male student body was in love with her; I didn't think anything of it at first.
But Bella was assigned to be my lab partner and, like it or not, I quickly discovered that I wanted her too. Honestly, I think she is the only girl that I've ever truly wanted in that way. And I got her.
We were together clear through graduation. I was happy, and we really were the perfect couple. Hell, we were even crowned Prom King and Queen. Bella burst into a fit of laughter when they announced our names. She'd never really gotten used to being Ms. Popularity. My sister, of course, had made sure she'd dressed the part. Although, God knows, Bella really didn't need the help. She was naturally gorgeous and quite perfect in every way.
I did love her. Just not in quite the same way she loved me. When she was accepted into the journalism program at Northwestern, I was ecstatic for her. But I knew right then and there that the end of high school would also mean the end of our relationship. I'd already been recruited to swim for UW. She had wanted to stay together, do the long-distance thing. But I knew it would never work. And, frankly, I don't think I ever wanted it to.
By the third night, I knew what I had to do. I couldn't keep avoiding him, avoiding this. I wanted him. I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anything before. And I forced myself to stop thinking about all the things that might happen or, more importantly perhaps, why they might happen. Because, regardless of whether this was easy or traditional or convenient, I was tired of fighting it.
He was seated at his desk, dressed in only boxers and a thin undershirt. He looked up when I came in, but quickly looked down again.
I stood in the doorway watching him for a moment, but I couldn't decipher the expression on his face. He stared intently at his computer screen, ignoring me.
I put my bag down and toed off my shoes. Within minutes, Jazz mumbled 'goodnight' and, flicking off his light, got into bed. Of course he had nothing to say to me. Why would he?
I brushed my teeth and washed my face, hoping that he would still want me.
I unbuckled my belt and pulled off my jeans, taking a deep breath as I moved to the edge of his bed.
Now. It had to be now.
He sat up startled when I climbed in beside him.
"Edward, what the…"
But I straddled him quickly, pressing my hips into his.
"Jasper, I'm sorry. I didn't understand before. But now I know this is supposed to happen…if you still want it to."
He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and stared at me for a long time, eyes full of silent questions.
He nodded and I leaned forward, placing one hand on his shoulder and sliding the other around his neck. I could feel him harden underneath me, as I rocked my hips into his.
"Fuck, Edward, really?" he asked, leaning his forehead against mine.
His breath stuttered and faltered, and I pressed my lips to his. We kissed, slow and deliberate, then hurried and desperate. Savoring touch and taste, before urgency spiked with desire overwhelmed.
Hands gripped my hips, rocking me into him again. I moaned as I felt his hardness against mine, and I slid my pelvis side to side, rolling back and forth over his length.
I pulled my shirt over my head and then tugged at his, wanting it off. My lips found his again. Mouths open. Tongues outlining lips, tracing teeth, sliding slick and pushing deep.
It was lazy and sexy and needy and rough, and I knew I could get lost in the taste of his breath and the warmth of his skin. Heat flashed hot across my flesh. Scalding and fiery, quick to my core.
And I wanted him.
The space between us was alive, charged. It coiled in my stomach and made me burn.
He pulled away, and I gasped, the air in my chest ragged and tight with need. His breath was hot on my cheek, and my body tensed in anticipation and want.
His eyes locked on mine, the gray dark like graphite now. Concentrated and deep. I felt like I was drowning.
His hands roamed my skin, skimming over my arms, stomach, ribcage. Long fingers traced the planes of my chest, outlined my nipples, and I moaned soft against his neck.
My hands were in his hair and then down his back, slipping underneath the waistband of his boxers to cup his ass, as his fingers continued to ghost lightly, sliding, feeling, touching. Short, blunt nails scraping gently against shivery flushed skin.
His hips jerked, sharp bones and taut muscle pushed against my own. I was used to feeling soft where I was hard. But the sensation sent ribbons of pleasure spiraling through my limbs to tighten my chest and pulse in my belly. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before.
My hand curved around his hip to his waist, fingertips searching, brushing soft hair, before finally curving around his dick. Skin soft and smooth, stretched over steely hardness.
He groaned, thrusting into my palm, and breathed my name, low and deep.
I rolled off of him, so we lay side-by-side, tugging his boxers over his hips and down his thighs. I pumped my hand up and down, moving from base to tip, swirling my thumb over the head, before sliding down the shaft again, repeating the motion slowly a few times before picking up speed, gripping him firmly and allowing my hand to glide over his smooth skin.
I could feel his hips thrusting to meet my strokes and I moved my hand more rapidly, up and down, up and down again.
I kissed along his jaw, feeling the roughness against my lip.
He shuddered under my touch and pressed his mouth to mine, taking my bottom lip between his and sucking gently before releasing it once again.
I could feel his breath, short and jagged, and I knew he was close.
The back of my hand brushed against my own erection as I continued to stroke him. I hitched my leg up over his hip so my cock was pressed to his thigh. I rocked my hips, rubbing against him and groaning at the friction. Fuck…
I pressed my mouth to his skin, sucking on his collarbone, forcing him to groan, and lifted my head to see his face. His eyes were dark with lust now, dangerous, lovely, and charming, and he wet his lips with his tongue, watching me watching him.
"So…close…Edward…so good." His eyes clenched shut, his hips jerked, and I felt his entire body tense.
Jasper's eyes snapped to mine again, shining with pleasure, excitement, and something else entirely.
"Fuck…" he breathed, low and deep, and his dick pulsed against my palm as he came. God he was beautiful.
Knowing that I could make him cum was enough to push me over the edge as well. I ground my hips into his once more, and I came too, biting my lip to keep from screaming his name.
We lay there afterward, wrapped in each other's arms, as we struggled to catch our breath.
We'd been together for weeks.
I'd taken to watching his practices on days when I had morning workouts. The weather was still nice, mild for fall, and I'd sit at the back of the bleachers with my iPod or a book.
I loved the way his body moved when he played. He was lean and agile, yet strong and powerful. Watching his muscles tense and coil and his skin flush hot with exertion reminded me of how he looked when he was on top of me. The image never failed to get me hard.
There was always a gaggle of pretty girls at the varsity practices as well, content to 'Oooo' and 'Ahhh' in the hopes of catching someone's eye.
They cheered for Jasper loudly. He was beautiful to look at, and I was always filled with a possessive pride knowing he was mine and I was his.
He would never bring one of those girls home with him.
He joined me in the shower a few days after that first night we'd spent together in his small bed…when I allowed myself to realize how much I needed him…when touching him was enough to make me cum.
The close proximity of our suitemates made me uncomfortable, but his cool fingertips drew soothing circles on my water-heated skin and suddenly it was difficult to think of anything save the feeling of his body pressed to mine.
I gasped when he slid down the length of my body to kneel at my feet.
He looked up at me, and sucked his lip into his mouth, pink flesh caught in white teeth; his lovely eyes burned.
"Fuck Jazz, what are you doing?"
"Shhh…no one will come in," he assured, skimming his hands down from my hips, tracing the contours of my legs. I groaned loudly in response.
"But they will hear you if you're not quiet."
My skin tingled under his light touch, and my body hummed with excitement. When he reached my ankles, he began running his hands back up the inside of my legs. He trailed his fingers over my knees to my thighs, warm hands sliding higher and higher. My dick throbbed with anticipation, and I moaned again.
I looked down and my breath caught.
Lips and cheeks stained pink with heat, water dripping like sweat on steam slick skin.
He exhaled a warm breath before pressing his lips to the head of my cock. "Fuck…" I murmured. Just how I'd imagined it. And believe me, I had.
I groaned, threading my fingers through his wet hair.
He took me in his mouth, tongue sliding, light suction, hand pumping to match the rhythm of his mouth.
I had to lean forward, palms pressed to the tile wall for support. He moaned around my dick and I hissed and said his name.
My hips thrust once instinctively, and my entire body shuddered.
It was the best I'd ever had and it was over all too soon. Quick, intimate release.
He swallowed and stood, kissing my cheek before stepping out of the shower, leaving me alone to catch my breath.
We were playing pool with our suitemates one Thursday evening. He returned from the bar with two Rolling Rocks and passed a bottle to me, fingers brushing mine deliberately. I felt a rush of heat shoot from my hand, up my arm, down my torso, and straight to my cock. He felt it too because I heard his breath catch and his eyes locked on mine.
Then he winked and took a long pull of beer, leaning back against the pool table.
I watched his throat bob as he swallowed.
We played on teams, and at one point he walked behind me, pretending to watch as I lined up my shot. But he brushed against me, and I could feel the outline of his erection against my leg.
"You know," he murmured, leaning close, "seeing you bent over like that just makes me want to fuck you…"
The thought made me groan out loud, and Jasper laughed, an amused smile playing at his beautiful features.
I missed the shot.
I asked him to go to dinner with me. "Just you and I alone." I stressed the word, pleased with how easily it rolled off my tongue. "Tonight." Together. As an 'us,' a 'we.'
No suitemates or teammates to blend in with or distract from what we were.
The restaurant was quiet and intimate, but I intended it to be so.
We sat, knees touching under the table. His eyes held mine intently, and we were content to be silent in one another's presence.
Jasper smiled with easy charm when the waitress' gaze lingered a bit too long. Her stare only reaffirmed what we both already knew.
She was pretty too, but my eyes never left his.
"If she only knew what really turns you on…"
And my quiet 'fuck' assured him that he already had.
I fed him sushi when no one was looking, and he smiled lazy and beautiful, sucking my fingertips into his mouth. My fingers brushed his when I reached for my water, and when the food was gone, he held my hand under the table.
It was raining when we left, dark mauve sky and silver streaked storm clouds.
We ran together across the street and laughed, shaking water off clothes and hair as we climbed into the car. I looked at him, all rain drenched curls and lightening lit skin; he smiled. I leaned over to kiss his mouth, not caring for once who might see.
The air was heavy with energy and want, and we drove home, ready to be alone. I knew he wanted more and, for once, I decided I was ready to give.
I locked the door behind us and pulled him to me, gaspy and out of breath. Fingers and lips were alive, touching, searching, and then we were naked. I had never wanted to fuck someone so badly in my entire life. And then I realized that what I really wanted was for him to fuck me.
He brushed his hands along my sides, and held my hips as we walked backward together to his bed.
We lay down and he hovered over me, all flushed beauty, forbidden look, and flashing eyes. And it was illicit and unexpected and completely inexplicable, but none of that mattered now.
He was mine.
"Jasper," I breathed, as he pressed his mouth to my throat. My skin, my nerves, my veins sparked with electric energy and need.
He shifted his hips and his cock brushed mine. My eyes half closed, my breathing stuttered, and I needed him.
"I want you Edward," he whispered, his voice liquid silver, melted sugar, sexy smooth.
He swallowed and smiled and nodded, soft and easy, reaching to his bedside table for a moment. And the sight of the lube and condom only cemented the realization of what we were about to do.
My body was tense and jittery, not with fear or reservation, but with anticipation and confirmation of the unknown. But he breathed "relax" and pushed his hips into mine again.
His tongue teased my overheated skin as his fingers traced my hips and thighs. I arched my back and fisted the sheets. He moved down my body, tongue slick and soft and smooth, slipping over my ribcage to suck on my hipbone. His breath fanned out hot across my skin, and he brushed his lips along my cock.
I groaned and bucked my hips at the warm wetness as he took me into his mouth. So good.
I heard the soft click of the bottle as he coated his fingers, warm and slick. It was uncomfortable at first, but he was gentle and slow as I grew accustomed to the feeling of him pressed inside of me. He added another finger and then another. All the time patient and waiting, stretching me for him.
I rocked my hips, telling him I was ready, needed more. I heard the rip of the condom wrapper and breathed deep, calming myself, but my head still swum and my stomach tightened in excitement at what we were about to do.
He stroked my cheek and ran his thumb across my lip. Electricity pulsed and crackled in the air between us as he stared into my eyes and I stared into his. His shone dark with want and certainty, and I nodded, knowing that I wanted this too.
I watched as he poured lube over his cock, and I groaned and he groaned as he stroked himself. Fuck me.
And he smiled and laughed his easy laugh. "Oh I intend to."
He wrapped my legs around his thighs, and I felt him pressed against my entrance. I held my breath, waiting and wanting.
"Tell me if I hurt you…if I do anything—" But I silenced him, pressing my lips to his. And he leaned in, resting his forehead against my own. I felt his breath, gaspy and warm across my face as he pushed into me with a moan.
I exhaled slowly, and he stopped, watching, waiting, his beautiful face so serious now as he held himself carefully. He took my hand, lacing my fingers through his, pushing my hand into the mattress.
I gasped again at the feel of him, as he pushed deeper, slow but sure. In and in.
His breath hitched and he moaned my name and was fully inside of me. My body tensed at the new sensation, but it wasn't unbearable. Pleasant pain, deep burn. And more the feeling of him filling me completely for the first time. His breathing was shallow and he paused a moment, making sure it was okay to continue.
Slowly then and very gently, he began moving his hips against mine, not thrusting but rolling into me again and again. Gently and perfect and longing and real. But I could feel his breath run ragged because I was pushing him too.
I wrapped my legs around his waist tighter, pulling myself closer to him still.
The pain had faded, replaced with pleasure now. Only pleasure and Jasper.
He drew back and pushed inside of me smoothly again, dropping his head to my neck, lips brushing my throat, and I held my breath, as he slid in and out again.
"Fuck…so good Edward…" and his voice was rough and his eyes found mine. He reached between us, quickening his thrusts, stroking my cock
I ran my fingers over his back, quickly overwhelmed by the intensity of the feeling.
"Faster …" I managed, and he increased his speed, pumping faster to meet my hips, pulling out and then pushing in.
And it was so right and so fucking perfect.
His breathing was shallower now, and my fingers clutched and clasped at his back, pulling him closer, forcing him deeper, and I wanted all and now. I rocked my hips against his with the rhythm of his thrusts, allowing him to push deeper.
Faster and faster now. His breaths came out in uneven bursts. "Edward… Fuck. I can't last much longer…"
But I was reaching that point too.
I kept my eyes on his, as he bit his lip, pleasure and excitement clear on his face.
His body tensed and tightened, and he cried out, as I felt his dick pulse deep inside of me.
Another stroke of my cock, and I came too, shooting hot and wet over our stomachs. The feeling was incredibly intense, and I groaned and clung to him, drowning in the ecstasy of release.
We lay there for several moments, chests heaving, hearts pounding, struggling to control our breaths. He pulled out slowly, and brushed his lips across mine.
"Yea…" I agreed, kissing him back.
He fucked me in the backseat of my car in the parking lot of our favorite bar. The small, enclosed space only made it more intense…more intimate.
"Do you like knowing that anyone could come out here and see what I'm doing to you?" he practically growled, as he thrust into me. His voice was gravelly and strained, and his words nearly pushed me over the edge.
But it wasn't the idea that we could so easily get caught that turned me on. It was the idea that we wouldn't. Our relationship was illicit and completely secretive.
Ours and ours alone.
And that thought was erotic as hell.
The first time we were nearly caught started off like any other night. We'd fallen asleep afterwards, curled naked together in his small twin bed. It was raining again. Always raining. I could feel the thunder echo against the window and his breath on my skin.
It was nothing out of the ordinary, and I love feeling his body pressed to mine as I drift off to sleep.
Sometimes, I'll wake in the middle of the night and, feeling hot or cramped, might move across the room to my own bed where I can stretch out naked on my cool sheets and listen to the sounds of his even breathing while I fall back asleep.
Other times we'll sleep together until one our alarms wake us both for class. He'll kiss my neck, my back, my shoulders, and we'll roll out of bed to start the day.
Our sleeping arrangements had never mattered before; we had our own room after all. There had never been any reason for anyone to suspect anything, and I was admittedly comforted by that fact.
That nearly changed one Sunday morning. I woke up to his fingers in my hair. I rolled toward him and inhaled deeply, breathing him in. He smiled lazily at me. "Morning beautiful," he drawled.
Our hips were barely touching, but I could feel his hardness against my own and I wanted him very much again. I kissed along his jaw, tasting the salty sweet of his skin.
But then I heard a fist pounding on our door, as our suitemate's voice cut through the dreamy silence. "Get your lazy asses out of bed! Breakfast time."
And as the door opened, I flung myself back into my own bed. He clutched at me, but I was too fast.
Hastily covering myself, I rolled over, pretending to have been awoken by the intrusion. But I caught his injured expression. Confused. Hurt. Rejected.
I refused to think anything of it because, surely, he had to understand.
But he didn't understand.
It was days before he looked at me again, and he still wouldn't touch me.
The thing was, I didn't understand either.
We were happy. Our arrangement worked. Or, at least, I thought it did.
Why did anyone have to know?
Why would he want anyone to?
Regardless, I needed to fix this. The not touching was killing me. And I needed to feel his breath and taste his skin again.
The lights were off when I got back to our room. He knew I intended to study at the library until it closed. I knew him well enough to realize that he'd deliberately gone to bed before I came home.
He was still avoiding me.
I stripped and moved to the edge of his bed.
His breathing told me that he was only pretending to sleep.
I climbed in beside him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He tensed but didn't pull away. I pressed my lips to his neck, hoping that he'd forgive me. Hoping that he'd take all I had to offer and not ask for anything more.
"Please let me try to be better for you," I pleaded. "I know now that you are what I've always wanted. I just didn't know what I was looking for before."
He turned to face me then, taking my hand in his and threading our fingers together.
His eyes shone darkly in the pale light of the moon. And I saw hunger and want and something else that I couldn't quite place, but I knew then that he needed me every bit as much as I needed him.
And it no longer mattered why because even if I never found an explanation for what I felt, I knew this was right.
"Please," I repeated, and he nodded before pressing his lips to mine.
Our kisses were slow, intense, and unhurried. But our fingers moved quickly, tugging and pulling at clothing until he was naked like me. His hands slid over my shoulders and down to my hips, pulling me closer to him.
"I'm sorry," I whispered against his lips, and he smiled, lovely and sweet, and took me then.
Patient and slow and perfect as always. Gray eyes piercing mine, blunt nails scraping lightly, thighs pressed to thighs.
Smooth entry. Slick thrust. Slow burn. Pleasing now as we rocked together slowly.
"You know I love you," he breathed, as he thrust slow and deep.
I gasped at his words, but I understood.
His naked eyes surprised me, as his dark gaze held mine. But I felt something shift deep inside my chest.
I closed my eyes, crying his name, as my dick throbbed and pulsed and I came.
He came too, a moment later. I felt his muscles tense with his release, and he collapsed onto my chest with a low 'fuck…'
We lay there for a while, limp and overwhelmed with the feeling of it all. Then he climbed out of bed and padded to the bathroom. He returned to me a minute later with a warm washcloth, closing the door carefully behind him.
I woke up in the middle of the night, not hot or cramped but complete and…home. I went to the bathroom to get a drink and splash some water on my face.
I looked in the mirror, wondering for a moment why I didn't look any different. Breathing deeply, I turned back to the bedroom where he slept, clear resolution in my mind.
I went back to him, leaving the door wide open this time.
I slid under the covers pressing my body against his again.
"I love you too," I whispered.
He shifted beside me but did not wake. That was alright though because, in a few short hours, he would know for sure.
a/n: Reviews for acceptance and love. And for naked boys in bed.
Thank you to AngstGoddess003 and Pastiche Pen for hosting the contest. Please remember to come back and vote.