SLASH BACKSLASH ONE-SHOT CONTEST
Story Name: Uncomfortable
Pen name: Savannah-Vee
Disclaimer: Anything Twilight related is not mine!
To see other entries in the "SLASH BACKSLASH" contest, please visit the C2: www. fanfiction c2/74941/3/0/1/
Ok, this is quite a...random story. I've been reading a lot of slash from this contest and wasn't even thinking about writing anything for it. However, the first line of this story just popped into my head, and I tried to ignore it but it wouldn't leave, so I just started writing. And this story came out of it. I had no idea where I was going with it, I kind of just winged it, and it ended up the way it ended up. Just thought I'd enter the contest for the hell of it seeing as it's slash. My first ever slash story. Enjoy...
The way he looks at me makes me feel... uncomfortable.
"Dad, mom, Edward, this is, Jasper Whitlock, my boyfriend." Alice turns around to beam at me proudly, gripping my hand as she does. I smile back.
"Well, Jasper, it's very nice to finally meet you." Alice's dad grips my hand in a strong, sturdy, handshake.
"You too, sir," I reply.
Her mom also steps forward and gives me a light, one armed hug. "Welcome to our home, Jasper, we've heard so much about you," she gushes.
They're both friendly towards me, asking me questions, and making pleasant conversation.
But not him.
He just stands back, leaning against the wall, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. He nods once, and then stares at me.
And it makes me uncomfortable.
I mean, it's not the fact that he's staring at me that makes me uneasy, because her mom and dad are pretty much doing the same.
It's just the way he's doing it.
His eyes, which I notice are an acute green, are stabbing at my body. It's like little sharp daggers are puncturing every inch of me as his eyes roam up and down, and down and up. I feel... exposed, awkward, self conscious. It feels like... like...
Like he's checking me out.
I bury that thought quickly though, rationalise that he's probably just being a protective older brother, sizing me up to make sure I'm good enough for his sister.
I try to ignore the way I notice those eyes boring into my skull as we sit around the dinner table. I try to ignore the way he watches me closely as I eat the strawberry ice cream his mom has got for dessert. I try to ignore the way his eyes are following the spoon as it makes its way into my mouth, and the way he watches my lips as they close around it. I try not to be conscious of the way he stops eating his own ice cream, his spoon frozen in mid air, to gaze at me as my tongue licks my lips after I swallow, and the way his pink tongue pokes out and trails over his own lips when I do.
I try to ignore all these things, even though they make me uncomfortable.
The second time I'm at their house, he doesn't look at me.
There are a few of us there. There's Alice, me, Alice's friend, Rosalie, him, his friend, Emmett. And his girlfriend, Bella.
He has a girlfriend.
We're all lounging in the living room. He and Emmett are having a rematch of FIFA 15 on the Xbox One. They're tapping the buttons on the controller like crazy, sweating and swearing, and yelling threats of kicking each other's asses. He's sitting in the recliner. His girlfriend, Bella, who's sitting on his lap looking bored, is being jiggled around on his lap as he moves around, mimicking the movements of the players on the TV screen. Emmett is on the floor leaning against the couch, his head between Rosalie's legs, while Alice and I are sitting on the couch next to Rosalie.
I watch him from the corner of my eye.
The way his voice is deep and somewhat gravelly, is making me feel... odd.
He's in a plain white tee, black sweatpants and black socks. It bothers me that I paid attention to his outfit.
The way he swears, practically spitting the word, 'Fuck' when Emmett beats him, annoys me. The way his sideburns are so neat, framing his pretty, yet masculine, angular face annoys me. The way he obviously hasn't shaved this morning, and there's a shadow of stubble along his chiselled jaw line, annoys me. The way his thick eyebrows crease in concentration as he stares at the screen, the way his hair – which needs to have a brush run through it a couple of times – falls over his eyes, and the way he tosses it away annoys me. The way there's a light sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, annoys me. The way the thick, black lines of the tattoo peeking out of his t shirt, on his bulging bicep, move every time he tenses his arm, outlining the toned muscle there, annoys me. The way he bites his full bottom lip and smirks a lopsided smirk when he beats Emmett, annoys me.
But most of all, the way that he is completely ignoring me, annoys me.
I take a large gulp of my cheap beer, grimacing at the taste.
Alice's hand is at the back of my head, fingers buried in my hair, stroking.
"What's wrong, Jaz?" she asks.
I shake my head. "Nothing, Babe. This beer tastes like shit, that's all. I'm gonna go get a soda."
I stand, stretching out my muscles, which have been, for some weird reason, pretty tensed. As I walk over to the kitchen, a deep voice calls out:
"Yeah, get me one too."
That's the first time he speaks to me.
I don't see him again until a couple of weeks later, because I don't go over to Alice's for a while, and he's in college, so I don't see him around school.
It's Rosalie's birthday party.
Nearly the whole of Forks High has attended, plus a bunch of college kids from the University of Washington.
He and his girlfriend, Bella, are already there when Alice and I arrive at Rosalie's house. I spot him immediately. He's standing, leaning on the wall opposite the front door, Bella leaning against him, her ass grinding against his groin in time to the music. It irritates me. He has his hands around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder, but his piercing eyes are on me. They twinkle in the light.
It's unnerving - yet I stare back.
Alice is tugging at my hand, dragging me over to the kitchen, and as I move with her, his eyes follow me. He doesn't smile, doesn't nod, doesn't have any facial expression, he just stares at me, like he did when I first met him. That awkward feeling of being checked out is back. Eventually, I'm out of his line of sight, and I find myself panting as I try to catch my breath, because – weirdly – I've been holding it since I walked in the front door.
Alice is talking to a bunch of people from our school, and they're all yelling, and it annoys me.
"Hey, Babe, I'm gonna go stand out in the hall, alright? Kitchen's too crowded," I murmur in her ear, and she nods, planting a quick kiss on my cheek.
I make my way into the hall and sit on the last few steps of the long, winding staircase.
And he suddenly appears.
He's with his girlfriend, Bella, and they're making out. I can see him shoving his tongue deep into her mouth. I can hear her soft moans and his grunts as they continue to suck at each other's lips, their tongues probing, not seeming to notice – or care – that they have an audience of one. She pushes him up against the wall, pressing her large boobs into his chest, and her tiny hips into his groin.
It's somewhat disgusting to watch, but still, I can't help gawping at him, at them.
His eyes are closed, his hands gripping her ass, and I can see him shifting his hips into hers. The sight makes me uneasy.
I tug at the crotch of my jeans, shifting a little at the uncomfortable feeling growing there as I continue to – involuntarily – stare at him, at them. I'm entranced at the way his lips are moving so furiously against hers, and at the little peeks of his tongue I get as it comes out to lick her lips, to stick down her throat, entranced at the rhythmic thrusting of his hips.
His eyes open.
He continues kissing her, never faltering, but he watches me as he does. I can only see one sharp green eye, staring at me, half closed with lust, as Bella's head is covering the other. The space in my jeans becomes even more restricted at the sight.
His thrusts into Bella quicken, his grunts become groans, his panting becomes faster. And all the while he's watching me. He grips Bella's ass even harder, squeezing it between his long fingers.
I swallow, my Adam's apple bobbing in my neck, and lick my lips which have become dry as I gape at him, them, slack jawed - and rock hard.
"Mmmm, let's go upstairs," his girlfriend, Bella, moans.
He grunts in response.
I stand up and move out of the way as they stumble over to the stairs, still joined at the lips. Bella has wrapped her legs around his hips and he's carrying her, those fingers still squeezing her ass. They carry on up the stairs and I watch his long, lean frame until I can no longer see it.
Then, I sag against the wall and I'm panting again, my hand gripping my erection, which is twitching in my jeans.
I have strange dreams that night.
Dreams of him, of those stunning eyes that make me uncomfortable, of his dishevelled, floppy hair, of his chiselled jaw, lined with stubble, of his full bottom lip, of him biting it and smirking, of him kissing someone the way he was kissing his girlfriend, Bella, only the person he's kissing in the dream isn't Bella.
There are dreams of his long fingers, and the way they grabbed Bella's ass, only in the dream it isn't Bella's ass he's grabbing. There are dreams of his pink tongue, the way it darted out when he kissed, the way he licked his lips, and in the dream, that tongue is also licking something else, something that is definitely not a part of Bella's anatomy.
There are dreams of his hips, thrusting against someone that isn't Bella. There are dreams of that deep voice, grunting and groaning, and of that tattoo on his muscled arm and someone – who isn't Bella – tracing it with their finger, or is it their tongue...
I wake up early the next morning, bathed in sweat, panting like a thirsty dog, and rock hard in my boxers. I take a shower, pumping out the discomfort with my hand, until it's released in short bursts, squirting hard against the shower wall.
He's walking around the house, nonchalant, shirtless, and in sweatpants that are way too low on his hips. And, as I can't see any trace of underwear whatsoever, I assume that he's also going commando.
And shit, just the thought of what's underneath the soft material of those pants makes me harden.
I shift in my seat next to Alice on the couch and she looks at me.
"Nothing." The word comes out on a breath and beads of perspiration dampen my forehead.
Alice continues to look at me, eyes narrowed in doubt, and I notice that her hazel eyed gaze does nothing for me. I feel... comfortable when she looks at me. It's nothing like when he looks at me.
Her eyes trail down to the very obvious situation in my pants, and they widen.
"Are you hard?"
I don't answer.
She smirks. "Want me to take care of that for you?"
She lowers herself to the floor before I can answer, and kneels in front of me, pushing my legs apart, before unbuttoning, then unzipping my jeans. She pulls them down ever so slightly, just enough so that my erection springs out, and then she undoes that one button on my boxers and pulls my dick through the hole.
I can't help my gasp as she lowers her mouth over me.
It's warm and wet, and she's doing all sorts of things with her tongue, and I'm hitting the back of her throat, and – the best part – when I close my eyes, I imagine that it's his mouth over me. The thought has me groaning.
"Shhh," Alice mumbles over a mouthful of cock. "My brother will hear."
Her words almost make me moan again, but I hold it.
I'm on the verge of coming, just hanging on the edge by a thread - when he walks into the living room.
"Jesus, Alice! Will do that shit in your fucking room?"
Alice releases my cock and giggles.
My eyes shoot open to find him standing by the cabinet where all the DVDs are kept. He has a DVD in his hand, just about to put it back in the cabinet I guess, since his arm is frozen in mid air.
And he's staringat my cock, which is still standing erect, the build up of orgasm still bubbling underneath the surface.
He's still shirtless, his torso long and lean, yet contoured with toned muscle. I see the tattoo on his bicep in full. I also see that he has another on his chest, above his right nipple, and another on his left hip – right where his muscles have that V leading into his pants. He has a faint line of light brown hair under his navel, trailing down into his pubes, which I can also see poking out of the top of the sweatpants. Commando it is then.
I stare at his body as he, in turn, stares at my still rigid cock. We're at an impasse.
That is, until Alice helps us along.
She pulls up my boxers and jeans, covering me up. I drop my gaze from him for a moment, and when I look back up, his muscular back - which has another tattoo running down his spine - is facing me, and he's searching through the cabinet for a DVD. I can see the crack of his ass just above the band of the sweatpants.
My cock is still throbbing and I can't help another low groan.
Alice leans over to whisper in my ear.
"Don't worry, I'll finish you off later. Just wait until we get up to my room."
I can't help but moan again. Not because of her words, but because of his ass, which is sticking out slightly as he leans into the cabinet, sifting through the DVDs.
I notice that he stops, for a second, at the sound of my moan, before continuing whatever he's doing.
Embarrassed at my inability to control myself, I get up from the couch.
"Um, I'm gonna go get a drink," I tell Alice.
I slump against the kitchen counter, gulping down water, the glass clinking against my teeth in my haste. When I'm done I place the glass on the counter and close my eyes.
Get a fucking grip, Whitlock, I scold myself.
Because I'm not gay. I can't be gay. I like girls. I have a fucking girlfriend who I care about, for fuck's sake.
"Get a fucking grip, Whitlock," I whisper. "I'm not gay. I have Alice. I care about Alice," I chant.
"Yeah, I fucking hope so."
My eyes snap open at the sound of that voice.
He's standing in the doorway, slanted against the frame, his arms folded across his taut chest. Watching me.
"What?" I ask.
"You said you care about Alice. I said, I fucking hope so."
He strides over to me, full of swagger and confidence, and he has every right to be. He's breathtaking.
I'm not gay. I have Alice. I care about Alice.
He doesn't stop walking until he's an inch in front of me, then his hands grip the counter on either side of my hips, trapping me.
The hairs at the back of my neck prickle - with excitement.
Then, those green eyes are smouldering. They burn into mine and I forget to breathe. He stands there, just staring at me, yet again, his beautiful face void of emotion, and eventually I can't handle it, can't handle the intensity. I look away. But he's unwavering, and I can feel the tip of his cock brushing against my groin. He's aroused, and that knowledge has me rapidly growing in response.
He presses his body flush against mine, pushing so my ass is against the counter, pushing his rock hard cock into my own rock hard cock. He finally breaks his gaze, leaning towards my ear and whispering:
"You better care about my sister, Whitlock, or I'll fuck you up, you got it?"
He spits the word 'fuck'. And, God, why is it so fucking sexy?
"I can't fucking hear you." He shifts his hips into mine, punctuating the word, 'fucking' and my knees buckle.
"Yes," I breathe. I pant heavily into his neck, trying to catch my breath, to calm down before I hyperventilate.
I'm not gay. I have a girlfriend.
But he bucks into me again, grinding his erection against me in a circular motion.
Another hard thrust.
A brutal shift of his hips.
I groan and his hand clamps over my mouth.
"Shut up," he hisses. "Alice is still in the living room."
He grinds against me one final time and leans away, releasing the counter. He studies my face for a moment and then turns away, adjusting himself in his pants, before getting out a soda from the fridge and sauntering back out of the kitchen.
I can't stop thinking about it.
I can't stop thinking about him, and what happened in the kitchen earlier on, and every time I do it confuses me. It confuses me and turns me on.
"Aw c'mon, Jaz, not again. I'm tired," Alice mumbles, half asleep.
"It's cool, Babe. Go to sleep."
We've had sex four times, and Alice has given me head twice, but whenever I think about him I get hard.
I'm just not... satisfied.
I mean, Alice is amazing in bed, but she isn't what my dick wants.
It wants him.
I want him.
And, fuck, that realisation is messed up.
I'm not gay.
But am I? I mean, I'm attracted to a guy and not my girlfriend.
That seems pretty fucking gay to me.
Alice is asleep so I get up to go take a piss. And who am I kidding? I'm hoping to bump into him on the landing.
I get out of the bed, pull on my jeans without my boxers, and creep out into the hall, shirtless. The house is silent except for the slight creak in the floorboard my footsteps make. I walk down the hall slowly, making my way to the bathroom, when a tug at the waistband of my jeans startles me, and I gasp.
He puts his finger to his lips and motions for me to follow him.
A shiver of excitement tickles my spine and I can feel myself getting hard again.
I follow him downstairs in silence, and we make our way down the hall to the back of the house where his bedroom is.
Once inside, he closes the door and pushes me against it, again trapping me by placing his palms on the door on either side of my head. He watches me, an amused grin lifting one corner of his mouth. He's still shirtless, and the fact that his naked torso is touching mine is...
The grin grows wider.
"Noisy aren't you?" he says. "I heard you, you know, when you were fucking my sister. You just can't keep quiet huh, Whitlock?" Then he leans forward, his warm breath tickling my ear and whispers, "I fucking love it."
I close my eyes, biting my lip in order to keep quiet.
"Hey, look at me."
My eyes open.
He's stopped smirking, his face once again stoic. "So, you really care about my sister, huh?"
I swallow and he grins that crooked grin again.
"You're scared of me, aren't you?"
I don't answer.
"I'll take that as a yes. Now, where were we? You really care about Alice, huh?"
"Yes," I respond.
He shakes his head. "You see, I don't think you do, Whitlock."
"Why do you think that?" I ask, my voice coming out hoarse.
"Oh, so you do have a tongue." He smirks. "But then again, I knew that already." His eyes dart to my mouth and I feel my face getting hot. He looks back up to my eyes, his green gaze as startling and intense as ever. "If you really cared about Alice, then why are you in here, with me?"
"I... I don't know."
"I know." He smiles and pushes his hips into me. Then, he moves his hips around in a circular motion, and I feel almost dizzy at the sensation, my eyes rolling back into my head. His cock is rock solid against mine. "You fucking want me. Don't you, Whitlock?"
I stay silent, because I can't say anything without groaning.
He bucks into me sharply. "Answer me."
I gasp. "Yes!"
"Exactly. And the truth is, I fucking want you too." He removes a hand from the door and cups my face, stroking it with his thumb. "There's something about you, Whitlock, something so fucking appealing." He brushes his thumb over my lips. "Maybe it's the way your lips are so fucking pouty, and red," he murmurs, tracing around my mouth with his thumb. He grinds his hips into me again. "Maybe I like the look of your cock." His fingers ghost over my cheeks, over my jaw, over my eyebrows, and my eyes flutter close. "Maybe it's your innocent looking, pretty-boy face." He brushes back a tendril from my forehead, and then keeps his hand in my hair, gripping a tuft of it. He shifts into me again. "Look at me." I open my eyes, and his face is so close to mine that our lips brush as he breathes. "Or maybe it's your eyes..."
At that, he presses his mouth against me, his soft, full lips moving over mine slowly, almost gently. He catches my bottom lip between his own and sucks at it, then tugs with his teeth.
I can't even move.
No girl I've kissed has ever made me feel the way he makes me feel.
I open my eyes so I can watch his face as he kisses me, to ingrain the memory deep in my brain.
And I'm startled to find a green eye staring right back at me, glinting under the partial hood of his eyelid.
He continues on, kissing me at the same slow pace, his fist still clenching my hair, nothing like the frantic way I'd seen him kiss his girlfriend, Bella, yet somehow, it's ten times more fervent. There's a feeling of need behind the kiss, concentrated desire pouring out into each lingering movement of his mouth.
I want more.
I push my hips into his, grabbing his hips and pulling him to me in the process. He starts kissing me harder, faster, thrusting into me as he does. His tongue comes out and brushes against my lips, once, twice, three times. Then with a sudden impatience he is prodding my lips open with it, and when they part for him, he's shoving it down my throat.
I groan again.
He drives his dick into me even harder at the sound, violent now, my ass slamming into the door over... and over... and over... and over.
He grunts and releases my mouth, breathing heavily into my face. "Suck my cock," he growls.
"On your knees, now."
I get down on my knees. My fingers tremble with anticipation as I pull the waistband of his sweatpants down over his engorged cock, and then... there it is. It stands before me, long and thick, with a slight curve to it.
I stare at it, mouth dropping open.
His palms are still pressed against the door and he's looking down at me.
"What the fuck are you waiting for?"
I'm nervous. "I... I've never done this before," I stutter.
"I know. So get sucking, you need the practice."
Tentative, I lean forward and stick out my tongue, licking the head of his cock. It tastes salty.
We moan simultaneously.
I inch my mouth over the tip, then move further and further down, taking in inch by inch of it until nearly his entire cock has filled my mouth.
He sighs. Mutters, "fuck."
I place my hands over his firm, tight ass, using it as leverage as I suck his cock, pulling back until it's nearly all the way out of my mouth, and then taking it all back in until it's buried in my throat.
He groans, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Shit," he whispers.
He's writhing with every suck, plunging his dick further down my throat until I almost gag. He bangs at the door with his fist, hissing every time my tongue brushes the underside of his cock.
I look up at him once, when my cheeks are hollow from the suction I'm using as I pull back from his shaft, and those green irises disappear. I'm left with only the whites of his eyes as he groans:
"Holy fuck, Whitlock. Don't look up at me again, I swear to God... "
He pounds on his door with his fist and for a moment I'm terrified that he might wake Alice up. Their parents are out of town.
His groaning is becoming relentless, his thrusts becoming erratic.
"Fuck!" He spits. He shoves his dick down my throat in three, final, irregular jerks.
And a second later my mouth is filled with his warm, salty juices.
I keep on sucking him until he stops thrusting and slumps forward, leaning his forehead against the door.
Its a few minutes later and he pulls up his pants.
"You should get back to Alice," he says.
I frown, confused. "What? But I don't want Alice. I want you. You said you wanted me too. I thought that meant that –"
"Well, you obviously thought wrong, Whitlock."
He pushes back from the door and flops down on his bed, leaving me still kneeling by the door, perplexed. And still horny. This isn't fair.
"Shut my door quietly on your way out," he says, reaching for his TV remote and switching on the TV.
I gawp at him in bewilderment for a long moment.
Then comes the anger.
"You. Fucking. Asshole," I say, my teeth clamped together. "You... you used me."
He shrugs. "I was horny. Bella's out of town."
I shake my head. "Liar! You wanted me. You've wanted me ever since you first met me. I saw those looks you gave me."
He laughs, sarcastic. "Get over yourself, Whitlock. A blow job is a blow job. Personally, I don't give a shit if it's from a male or a female mouth. There ain't no fucking difference. That doesn't make me gay."
"Bullshit. What about all those things you were saying to me? What about the fact that you fucking kissed me?"
"I was pretending you were Bella."
It's my turn to laugh. "That's a crock of shit and you know it. Your eyes were open when you kissed me. I... I saw you - "
"Look!" He glares at me. "I'm sick of your fucking whining. Let me say this again for you, a little clearer. I was horny. My girlfriend is in Jacksonville. I wanted to get off. So I used your little faggot ass to do that. This incident stays between us, because I swear to God if you hurt my sister you're a fucking dead man. I'm not gay. Now get the fuck out of my room."
At that he directs his attention back to the TV, ignoring me.
I feel sick, disgusted, used - but I still want him.
I choke back the sob that's trying to escape my throat.
"Fuck you," I say, defeated, before turning around and opening the door.
I glance back at him before I leave the room and he's staring at the TV, his face blank and impassive.
The shimmer of those sparkling green eyes is the last thing I catch before I shut the door and make my way back upstairs to my girlfriend.