SLASH BACKSLASH ONE-SHOT CONTEST

Story Name: The Rabbit
Pen name: Zigster
Pairing: Jasper/Edward
Disclaimer: The pretty boys don't belong to me, I'm just using them for my own twisted entertainment.
To see other entries in the "SLASH BACKSLASH" contest, please visit the C2:
http :// www. fanfiction. net/c2/74941/3/0/1/


A/N: So, yeah, this is my first outing into the slash world, and no, my hands aren't shaking right now from nerves. Nope. Not at all.

Gallathea is my beta-goddess and just all around genius/comedian/motivator/love. Seriously, she makes it better everytime.

The index down yonder does not need to be rigorously studied or even glanced at if you don't want. It's just there as a reference for you, since I went a little lingo-happy in this fic. Regardless, I hope you enjoy.

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Lingo index:

donks - newbie players
playing blind - paying without looking at your cards
floorman - person in charge of the proceedings
the cage - where you buy in, exchange money for chips
Heads up - a one on one game in poker
sharks - seasoned pro players
fishes - poor players
rabbits - weak players
ante'd up - placing bets
broadway - triple aces
bullet - ace
hole cards - first two cards dealt to each player, face down
paints - face cards such as jack, queen, king
the turn - fourth card placed down on the board
kick it - raising the bet
ladies - queens
ammunition - chips
cardsharp - mad experienced card player

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That night we took the use of an old man's wine cellar as our home base. It was damp and smelled of wet sawdust, but there was a barrel of whiskey free for the taking, so no one complained once that cork was popped.

The senile man who owned the property had left his basement door unlocked, like a fool. An egotistical move, to be sure, thinking your surroundings were ever secure enough to let your guard down. Silly, silly aristocrat. Then again, the fact that our new makeshift cardroom was so easily accessible ensured the old man's life would not be harmed -- there was no need to kill him if he was sleeping peacefully somewhere in the recesses of his home. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and in this case, life insurance.

The brick walls held no insulation in the damp, decaying holding cell we had so easily inhabited. The only heat was coming from the kerosene lamps the donks had hung so we could actually see our hands in front of our faces. I always said that I didn't mind playing blind, but I never meant that in the literal sense.

I was puffing on my pipe, willing it to smolder in the damp chill, when the floorman came up and wrapped a blood red ribbon round my upper bicep. I gazed down at it with disdain as my pipe smoked to life. The color clashed sickly with the faded green and blue paisley pattern of my oxford, and I gave the Doc back in the cage a look of annoyance that clearly stated: you're crampin' my style there, bitch. He merely smiled back at me as the floorman smacked my back strategically after I took a deep drag off my pipe. The result was a hacking fit of embarrassing proportions. My coughs cut the quiet air at an inappropriate decibel level for such an operation, and twenty sets of glassy eyes fell to me with varying looks of impatience and disgust. None of them registered, save one pair: they were deep jade, flecked with gold. I was immediately pulled in by them, and almost missed the floorman doling out his schpiel.

"Tonight, as opposed to our usual ten-player tables, we'll be doing a Heads-up tourney. The ribbons you've been given each have a pair. Find your partner and pick a table. Get a drink, or take a squirt. You have five minutes."

A murmuring started up in the dim light of the room as the sharks and fishes intermingled, hesitant to find their partners. I could already smell the sweat from the rabbits being paired with the sharks. Poor souls.

I was sipping gingerly on my whiskey -- which clearly hadn't aged properly yet; I felt like a damn pedophile drinking it -- when someone cleared their throat to my left. I turned, and those green eyes were staring back at me again, eager as fuck, and nervous to boot. I smiled at the rabbit. Poor little boy lost with his mommy nowhere in sight.

"Howdy," I said, extending my hand, laying heavy on the accent.

The pretty boy with the matching ribbon shook my hand hesitantly before saying a quick, "Hello," and averting his gaze to the table. I smiled at his shy nature.

I had this shit in the bag.

We sat down, we anted up, drinks were refreshed, hands were dealt, and it was all running smoothly until the flop, when little green-eyed Jim pulled a Broadway outta nowhere. I didn't even know he had an ace in his hand, and that scared me. This kid was dangerous, and I had been so preoccupied staring at his big emerald eyes that I hadn't even bothered to try and play slow and watch him squirm.

I gave him a once over, cocked my head to the side, and asked, "How old are you?"

Jimmy looked taken aback for all of two seconds before answering. "Twenty." He then shook his head and corrected himself as his hair fell into his eyes. "Sorry, twenty-one."

"Never play blackjack, kid."

"I just turned twenty-one yesterday," he piped up, "getting a buy in to this game was my... present," he finished explaining with his head down.

"Ah, congrats Jimmy," I tried to sound legit, but all I could think was that this kid was way too shy for poker.

"My name's Edward," he spat out defiantly, surprising me.

"That's an old name for a youngin such as yourself."

"It's served me just fine," he said, his jaw tight.

"I bet."

Jimmy, or Edward rather, was not pleased with my teasing. He took his focus off the green table to look at me, his eyes reflecting surface, and asked, "What's yours?"

I smirked, "I don't got a name; I'm just the shark who had the same color ribbon." I tugged at the red fabric tied round his bicep and watched it fall through my fingers as it came loose. "You're mine for the next few hours, kid; rabbits don't get to ask questions." I tucked his ribbon into my vest pocket and patted it lightly, making sure it was nice and safe in its new home.

Edward's face darkened with realization at what he had actually gotten himself into. I was enjoying the look of anxiety on his face before he surprised the fuck out of me by looking up and giving me a lopsided grin. "That means you're mine as well."

I smiled back at him, deciding then and there I should stop goading him and concentrate on what needed my attention: the game. I obviously had years of play on this kid, but in truth, I was only a year older. My condescending tone probably made me sound like a dick -- which I was -- but for some reason, I didn't want him thinking of me like that. The fact that he thought he had any hold on me whatsoever was laugh worthy, but who was I to crush his bubble of naiveté?

I let his declaration of possession hang in the air, where it would stay, as the next hand was dealt. My hole cards came up as a pretty little pair of paints. I didn't have to worry about the smirk on my face telling squat to Edward, since I had been smirking the whole time, but it was slightly harder to keep my eyes from bugging when the flop was placed on the board. Edward raised, I matched, and the turn was... well, turned. It was a shit card, a rag, and Pretty Boy still kicked it. He either thought he had something better than the ladies in my hands, or he was trying to play me -- and I hated getting played.

I went all in, and watched as Pretty Boy's eyes fell slightly, the deep green becoming glassy with emotion before they locked with mine and flashed with anger. He knew. He could ether match me or fold, and if he matched, he'd lose.

He dropped his cards, and I took the pot. His ammunition would not last long. I hoped that his trust fund would hold out long enough for him to learn some skills. I wouldn't mind him sticking around a bit longer -- he had a pretty face that I liked looking at -- but what really got me were his eyes. They were soulful, and tinged with a caramel sweetness that made him a danger to anyone foolish enough to let themselves be drawn in by them... and I was exactly that kind of fool.

The floorman called break, and I blinked, finally being released from the hold Edward's gaze had on me. My confidence from before wavered slightly at the thought. I shook it off, leaned back in my chair, and stretched my arms above my head, happy for the momentary rush it brought me. When I settled my chair back down on all four of its legs, I saw Edward studying me from across the table. His eyes were resting on my neck and the exposed skin from my partially unbuttoned shirt. I smirked at him until he realized he was caught. His eyes darted up to mine and then away as a flaming blush crept up his cheeks.

His tell.

It hit me then, this kid wanted to have a hold on me... in more ways than one. What an empowering thought.

A really fucking irrational and sudden urge came over me at the sight of his heated skin, and I leaned in over the table, speaking hardly above a whisper, "Do you smoke?" I asked. A grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

He blinked before answering, "No... never tried it," he admitted with his head down.

"Would you like one?"

His head shot up at my smug tone and he narrowed his eyes. I smiled fully back at him before repeating, "Would you. Like. A smoke?"

We locked gazes, his green eyes burning into mine with an obvious want.

A minute passed and then he swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing in a very appealing way, before he nodded once in answer.

The sound of my chair scraping back on the stone floor echoed through the room before I grabbed the lamp off the table and his hand in mine. I dragged him into the recesses of the basement, far away from the murmurs of the other players...

Mine, I thought. All mine.

Edward didn't say anything, but I could hear the hitch in his breathing accelerate with every turn we made around the rows of carefully stacked bottles. The green tinted glass held an eerie glow in the dim light of the lamp.

Along the back wall was a small window, perched high in the brick. Through it filtered in a cascading glow of moonlight, and I pushed Edward into its path, wanting to see as much of him as possible. I wanted to remember this.

I had my hands on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing and the beating of his heart underneath my palms. He was excited -- I could see it in his eyes -- but I also saw apprehension that made me pause.

Time to play with him a bit, I thought. Test him.

I took a step back, releasing my hold on him, and quickly lit a match off the scrape of the brick wall. I pulled my pipe out of my vest pocket and proceeded to try and puff it to life in the damp air, yet again. I stole a glance at Edward from under my lashes as I manipulated the leaves in the bowl, willing them to smoke. His look of disappointment told me everything I needed to know.

"Hold this." I placed my pipe in between his slack jawed lips. He bit down hard, and I smirked at his frustration. The bowl hadn't lit, but he needed to be quiet; the pipe would help. Bracing my hands on either side of his head and effectively trapping him, I leaned in ever so slowly to assess his reaction. My intended target was his neck, but the rim of my hat was in the way of me doing anything without hitting that razor sharp jaw of his.

"Here," I said, while topping Edward's head with my hat, and tipping the front down to shade his forehead. "It suits you." And it did. Damn, the boy looked good in a fedora.

Edward grinned, and I continued, only breaking eye contact to dip down and nip at the sensitive skin of his neck, licking and blowing on the moistened skin. He actually stopped breathing, and I was about to pull away and ask what was wrong, but his hands grabbed hold of my hips the next second and his body slammed into mine. Edward let out a growl, and my head fell back as he ground his hips into me repeatedly. Yeah, this kid was most definitely a little frustrated.

My hands were on his belt buckle in a flash, quickly unfastening the latch, his button, and pulling down the zipper of his pants before he could even blink.

I did blink, however... the boy went commando.

"You shittin' me?" I thought out loud, amazed. Edward gave a deep and throaty laugh, and I felt the resonance low in my gut. I tried to speak, but I could only drop to my knees to get a closer look. I kind of loved this kid.

Edward's erection was impressive, beautiful. I touched the velvety skin with gentle fingers and watched a drop of moisture appear at the tip as a result. I smirked up at Edward as I wrapped my hand fully around him, feeling him hot, hard, and soft all at the same time. His head fell back to the shelf behind him as he closed his eyes, his jaw moving with tension and anticipation. I wasn't planning on disappointing him.

"Look at me," I told him, as I ran my tongue around the head of his cock. He moaned, and my lips pulled into a smile around him before I took him as deeply as I could into my mouth. Edward's head immediately fell back again with a thud against the bottles as they clinked in protest.

"Fuck," he choked out around the pipe in his teeth. I released him and breathed "shhh" on his sensitive, wet skin while stroking him, wanting him to stay quiet, but teasing him all the same. He nodded his head and braced his hands harder against the shelves behind him.

Wrapping my lips around him again, I hummed as I bobbed up and down, willing my throat to relax more and more with each descent. I wanted to take all of him, to fill my mouth and throat just to see his reactions. He was so responsive. I gently dragged my teeth up his length, flicked rapidly with my tongue underneath the head of his cock, and watched him squirm.

"Shit, what are you doing?" he asked with a husky voice. I didn't answer, I simply swirled my tongue around him and plunged back down, taking him fully this time, which elicited a loud moan from Edward. I pinched his leg to quiet him. He hissed from the pain, and yet simultaneously pulsed inside my mouth.

His hand came up to run gently through my hair before I once again flicked the skin under the head of his cock, and his grip tightened. It was my turn to moan then, and Edward echoed. I brought my hand up to massage his balls as I worked, wanting him to feel as much as possible for his first time. His hips were now jerking and thrusting in a somewhat steady rhythm against my mouth, and I knew he was close. The muscles were straining in his neck as his thrusts became faster. I stopped moving, letting him fuck my mouth as he pleased.

He started to vocalize unintelligible sounds that made my lips pull into a smile around him. He was falling apart in the most pleasurable of ways, and he was doing it because of me.

"Shit, I'm gonna... what's... what's your name?" he asked, with his eyes hooded and his words slurred as he gritted his teeth around the pipe.

I pulled up and released him with a loud pop.

"Jasper," I answered, swirled my tongue around him once more and then plunged down until his head hit the back of my throat. Edward let out a strangled scream, jerked violently off the shelves, and immediately, I felt the streams of hot liquid pulsing down my throat. I took it all, and pulled away from him gently as I looked up at his relaxed, pretty-boy face.

I rocked back on my heels and stood in front of him, placing my hands on either side of his face.

"That hat really does suit you," I told him as I leaned in for a kiss. Edward's lips felt slack and loose, and I pulled back to give him a once over. I had worked him well.

"You should keep it," I said, and he looked at me with a question in his eyes.

"Keep what?"

I tapped the hat on top of his head and took my pipe back from his lips, figuring that I could really use a smoke after all.

I stepped back and leaned against the cold-damp of the brick wall. I needed time to calm myself, but all I could do was feel. Between the thrill of the game and the excitement Edward's presence had posed, I was downright high. That fact that the erection in my pants was now boarding on the painful side was the only draw back.

My eyelids drifted closed on their own as I absentmindedly padded my pockets for my tobacco. Images of what I'd just done floated back on up into my vision, and I couldn't help my reaction as a smile crept its way onto my lips.

"What are you humming?"

"Hmm?" I asked with my eyes still closed.

"The song."

"Oh, it's..." I started to say, but when I opened my eyes, I saw something that made me pause. Edward's head was down, and his hands were busy compacting loose tobacco on a dark slip of paper into a neat little roll. His fingers twisted and manipulated the crinkling leaves into submission before he brought it up to his mouth and dragged his tongue, languid and smooth, across the edge.

"The fuck?"

Edward's eyes peeked out from under the rim of my hat and gave me a questioning look -- no doubt brought on by my sudden anger. I was in front of him in two strides, grabbing the hand rolled cigarette out of his hand.

"You said you didn't smoke," I spoke in a deep, flat tone.

"I assumed you meant that as an innuendo," Edward answered.

"So, this isn't the first time you've gotten a guy to suck your dick?" I quirked any eyebrow, trying to hold in my anger. I had gotten played, and played good. Green-eyed Jim had me like putty in his hands. Fuck, I was furious.

"No!" Edward said, his eyes wide. "No, I really --"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence because I slapped the rolling papers and tobacco out of his hands, silencing him. It was a dick move, but I couldn't punch him in his pretty face like I wanted, breaking his nose would be a fucking shame.

We stood, inches apart for several minutes, seething, breathing in each other's air, flavored with whiskey, anger, and sex. His eyes kept me locked to him, and it pissed me off. I blinked and broke the contact, wanting to return to the table and resume the game I knew I could win.

I turned from him and started to walk away, trying to maintain, at least, a false air of calm, but was shoved almost immediately into the nearby shelves. The bottles clanged and dinged against each other in protest as Edward pushed me flush into the wall of green -- the same green that colored his eyes.

"Fuck," I spat, as the blunt edges of wood and rounded glass pressed into me, with Edward, hard at my back.

"Exactly," Edward said into my ear before biting it roughly with his teeth. My head fell back and I instinctively pushed back into him. Whether I wanted to get away or to feel more of him, I didn't know.

"I don't know what I'm doing; I'm a rabbit, remember? I'm nothing in this world. I don't get to ask questions," he spoke deliberately and forcefully into the skin of my neck. "Tell me what to do, what you want."

"Get off," I rasped through gritted teeth, my cock harder than the glass bottles it was currently (and fucking painfully) pressed into.

"I already have," he said, thrusting his hips into my backside. "Thank you, by the way." He bit my neck; I growled. "Tell me," he urged with another thrust. "Now."

"Your hand!"

"Shh... what about my hand?"

"On me. Now."

He wasted no time; my belt buckle was unclasped and my fly was undone within seconds. This kid had fast hands, shit.

I hissed as his cold fingers made contact with my now excruciating erection; my need for release was driving my willing submission. I wanted him to get me off, and I wanted it now.

"Tell me," he whispered, once again.

My head lolled back onto his shoulder as I pushed back into him, wanting him to have room to work and to feel all of him at once. "Pump," I told him. "Fast."

Ignoring my instructions completely, he slowly and deliberately moved his hand up and down my length, rubbing his thumb over the slit and dragging the liquid he found there down with him as he went.

"Lick your hand. Needs to be wet." My eyes were closed at this point and my voice was barely above a whisper. I just wanted release, and he was driving me insane with his slow pace.

"You lick it," he ordered, as his fingers found their way into my mouth. I pulled them in greedily, licking and sucking his fingers as if they were another part of him entirely, tasting the salt on them as he fondled me with his free hand.

I released his fingers suddenly from my mouth when he squeezed the base of my cock in his hand, "Fuck, Edward. Please," I begged. Desperate with need -- the roles had officially been reversed.

Edward proved again that he was more skillful than he'd originally let on, working me into a frenzy with his now slick hand -- and no doubt boosted confidence -- within a matter of minutes. I was on sensation overload as the shelves rattled from our movements; his heart pounded out of his chest and into my back, and his breathing cascaded hot and wanton over the skin of my neck. I grunted and thrusted into Edward's hand as he furiously drove me to the edge. I couldn't fall fast enough.

"What now?" he said, anticipating the telltale tingling sensations I started to feel in the pit of my gut. His voice was heavy and laced with heat in my ear, making me insane with lust.

"Make me cum," I growled.

He did.

My neck muscles strained and my jaw practically broke in two as I held in the scream from my orgasm. It ripped through me so violently that it caused the glass to ring with vibrations as my cum shot out over the bottles. Edward placed his free hand over my mouth as I groaned loudly and lost control.

"Shhh," he soothed in my ear, rocking with me, bringing me down. My hands practically created permanent indents into the wooden racks as I let my body defuse from its high.

"Shit," I breathed, and Edward let out a small laugh behind me. I turned my head, not wanting him to be able to gloat -- even though he had every fucking reason to -- I kissed him to silence him, turning his amusement into a moan.

"Hello?" A strange voice suddenly cut through the quiet air, startling us. My head shot up, searching for where the disembodied voice could be coming from. The many shelves of glass bottles caused any and all sounds to echo off of each and every surface, denying the listener any clue to its origin.

Edward rocketed himself off of me immediately, and started grabbing his tobacco and papers off the sawdust floor.

"What the fuck?" I asked in a whisper.

"We came back for a smoke!" he shot back.

Realization dawned on me, as the voice echoed around us again -- the floorman searching for his lost poker players.

I grabbed the pipe off the floor where it had been thrown and vigorously started packing down the leaves in the bowl, lit a match and puffed.

Within a matter of seconds, Edward and I were arranged along the brick wall, beneath the light of the window located a few aisles down from where the evidence of our coupling was currently dripping off the green bottles. We made sure to be seated at an appropriate distance from each other as we puffed on our smokes of choice, hopefully looking for all the world like a pair of cardsharps on a break.

The floorman rounded the corner no sooner than my pipe smoldered to life, his sharp eyes falling upon us instantly.

"New hands were dealt over a fucking half hour ago. You've got a watch, Whitlock; use it," he stated flatly, before eyeing Edward a beat longer than I felt comfortable with. "Get back out there. Now."

I didn't dare turn my head to see what he was observing until the floorman himself turned to walk back out towards the tables up front. Once he was gone, and safely out of earshot, I turned to look at Edward.

"What was he staring at?" he asked.

I tapped the rim of my hat on his head, and then stood. "Probably the hat," I told him, as I extended my arm to help him stand.

"Oh," Edward said, his tone uncertain.

"Or, it could have been your tell," I mused as I turned to head back out to the tables, leaving Edward stunned behind me. I smiled to myself as I heard him scampering to catch up with me, our original roles firmly back in place.

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A/N: *peeks out from behind shelf* Did we enjoy? I hope.

I need to thank, and I mean get down on my knees and thank, Chicklette for her tireless want to talk poker, and share her endless amounts of knowledge on the subject with me. The reason this fic sounds anything like a poker player might have written it is because she walked me step-by-step through each hand, flop, and river in this fic. She's awesome, we love her. 'Hand-holding' is a phrase I much associate with her, Yogagal and Vio since they quelled me during my bouts of OCD.

I also have to thank the lovely FarDareisMai2 for vetting my drivel, and giving me feedback on this story since it's early stages. (Original draft Jasper didn't get his happy ending... lawd, how wrong would that have been?) If you haven't read her entry to this contest, Just Like Chocolate, you're insane and should go do so now. You'll cry, but you'll love it.

Finally, thank you to AngstGoddess003 and PastichePen for hosting this awesome contest! Reading the entries has been a blast.

That's enough rambling from me. Thanks for reading... ta.