Story Name: Power
Pen name: OfTheDamned
Pairing: Jasper x Edward
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns everything, I just make them play like she's afraid to
To see other entries in the "SLASH BACKSLASH" contest, please visit the C2:

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This whole mess started out with a simple game of chess.

I just couldn't win, ever, but it honestly wasn't my fault. No matter what I did, no matter how well I tried to block my thoughts from him, with each turn would come an instant where I looked at the board and realized my next move. And not just that move, but what would follow and how it would lead to victory. I would see one move and the next and the next unfold before my mind's eye.

And so would Edward.

Of course, being the pretentious savant he is, he was convinced his winning streak proved his superiority.

"It's alright Jazz," he said with a condescendingly smug grin. "My gift is just more powerful than yours. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

That really boiled my blood. Or, what was left of it. How he had the audacity to sit there with his coiffed hair and luminescent but scar-less skin and tell me he was more capable than me was entirely offensive.

I fought in fucking wars – two of them. I'd commanded armies. I'd grappled with the most vicious, inhuman creatures and emerged standing. And sure, maybe it left me scarred and bloodthirsty, but I'd earned some fucking respect. Both as a man and a vampire, I was more powerful than this permanently-pubescent mama's boy could ever dream of being.

I tried not to let it irk me, since he'd played this hand so many times before. Alice and I had only been with the Cullens about fifteen years, but so far I was unimpressed with this… this melodramatic slip of a boy.

Sometimes, I felt like I could be rather fond of him. He was smart, with a dark sense of humor that appealed to the soldier in me, and an agile and compelling hunting partner. When he tried, he could be exceptionally good company. So when I knew he was just trying to goad a response from me, I did my best to curb my anger and write him off as a troublesome teenager.

He was spoiled – that was the real problem. Esme and Carlisle had pandered to his isolation for decades and had never denied him a single desire or whim. The local girls, and women, panted over him like they were lucky to breathe the same air he did.

Little did they know that they didn't.

In all fairness, he was gloriously beautiful. It was one of the first things I noticed when we introduced ourselves to this coven. Family. Whatever. Obviously we were all fine physical specimens, startling in our beauty and entrancing in our grace. Edward, though… despite the angular cut of his jaw and the firm muscles of his shoulders and back, he retained a sense of innocence.

His youth worked to his advantage, in that sense, by making him look both sexual and naïvely susceptible to corruption at the same time. It was the same vulnerability that drew me to Alice, when she tried but failed to remember her past life, except that Edward looked like that all the time.

It made me want to break him in, so to speak. I wanted to show him the underbelly of his pristine, controlled little world. I wanted to taint him, so I wouldn't be the only jaded fuck in this house. His innocence was just begging to be stolen.

Alice had asked me not to, though, so I left him and his sweetly boyish looks alone.

And then there was his talent. Faster than Alice's clairvoyance, able to leap Rosalie's snippy comments with a single well-placed insight, he fancied himself akin to Superman, even among the super-human. And, sure, that gave him some modicum of power.

But he was not, in any way, more talented than me.

In this particular instance, Edward had challenged me to a game of chess while Esme and Carlisle had taken Alice hunting. I preferred to hunt alone, so I'd opted to stay behind. Rosalie and Emmett were off being newlyweds, again, which left the house completely empty for us. Sometimes I think he stayed behind with me just to taunt me.

We were only about five moves into the game before he started bragging about the strength of his ability, and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold my tongue this time.

"Edward," I said lowly. "Please. Shut up."

He shrugged, faking some very unconvincing nonchalance, and muttered, "Just saying."

I managed not to roll my eyes but, instead of focusing on the precarious position of my rook, I decided to show him exactly how powerful I could be.

First, I dredged up a few truly horrifying memories I had from the Southern wars. The way I wondered if I'd ever see the light of another day when I fought my first vampire, biting and tearing for the sake of some territory I couldn't even find the edge of. The fear I'd felt when Maria shoved me into a room packed with volatile newborns, swiping and snapping at each other, and told me I was expected to maintain order. The anxiety that nearly crippled me when I finally attempted to escape her.

At first Edward eyed me skeptically, but soon he was scanning the room wildly. He whipped his head around to check each entrance, confirming that no one had breached the entryways.

I could feel the fear and paranoia oozing from him – slow but engulfing, like molasses. I magnified his fear back to him until he had pressed himself against the wall of the living room with his eyes squeezed hopelessly shut.

I was overcome as well, but orchestrating this little sensory adventure helped me maintain my composure. Besides, unlike Edward, I had already lived through these emotions, and had long since gotten used to managing the memories. I knew enough to clasp my hands in my lap so I didn't shatter the arm rests of the antique chair I was in. Other than that, though, I stayed perfectly still while I watched Edward fall prey to my little experiment.

Next, I conjured up another strong emotion – anger. I relived how aggravated I'd get when one of the newborns disobeyed me, how frustrated I felt over trying to stick to this bullshit vegetarian diet and, just for kicks, I reminisced over how fucking pissed it made me to hear Edward boast about his mind-reading.

In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea. As soon as I had washed away Edward's fear he was hulking over me, absolutely livid.

He flexed his arms and fisted his hands repeatedly as he demanded, "What the fuck are you doing, Jasper?"

Despite the fury coursing through me, I still felt a wisp of smugness float through my mind.

I raised one eyebrow and asked, "Who's got the power now?" I suppressed the urge to add, bitch? but he heard it anyway.

Damn mind reader.

He lounged forward, grabbing my lapels and hoisting me out of my chair until I was standing. Luckily, I was taller, so he didn't manage to lift me off my feet.

Oh, how I wanted to deck him. A low growl was rumbling in the back of my throat and I wanted nothing more than to throw Edward to the ground and show him what years under Maria's command had taught me to do.

The only thought that stopped me was Alice, and how upset she'd be that I'd gotten into a fight with one of our new family members. So, instead of giving in to the aggression humming through my tensed muscles, I did my best to think of calmer times: the wet smell of ranches in the fall that reminded me of Texas, and the way Alice liked to play with my hair.

Soon enough, both Edward and I had regained enough composure to step back and think clearly.

He shook out his arms, straightened his sweater and sat down across from me at the chess table with a big huff.

"That wasn't funny."

Who said anything about funny? I thought to him.

He rolled his shoulders in the most aggressive shrug I'd ever seen. "Did your little display have a point, then?"

Just pointing out that being an empath trumps your mind-reading trick.

I could feel him bristle at my use of the word 'trick' but I didn't care.

"So you manipulate emotions. Big deal," he muttered petulantly, avoiding eye contact.

"Big deal?" I exclaimed, pushing myself upright in my chair. "It is a big fucking deal. You should have seen yourself cowering against the wall like a lost little kitten."

"So?" he demanded, throwing his hands up. "So what? You got in my head a little. Nothing actually happened."

"It could have."

"But it didn't," he said obstinately.

I glared at him, searching my head for a witty comeback, but I knew that technically he was right.

For a moment I wondered if I should have let things progress a little farther. Unless I tore a limb off, or bit him, it was physically impossible to leave a mark on him the way I wanted to. His hair was a mess but, then, it always was, so I got no satisfaction from that. I wished I had at least roughed him up a bit more.

If he was human, his pulse would have been racing. He would have been sweating and panting with the adrenaline. His hairline would still be damp and his shaking hands would be testament to exactly how powerful my ability was. Instead, as he sat across from me, he was a little miffed but otherwise exactly the same as he had been before.


He folded his arms and stared at me. Even his gaze spoke of his superiority; his irises resembled crystallized amber while mine were a muted rose color that I hadn't managed to dilute since my last 'slip'.

Fucking Edward, all restrained and unsullied. I was willing to bet that taking a dive into my emotions – into just a tenth of the shit I'd lived through – was the most intense thing he'd ever felt. And he wanted to act like nothing happened.

We studied each other begrudgingly over the chess game that had failed to hold our interest. I could tell he felt scammed, like I had somehow wronged him by inflicting such emotions on him when it all amounted to nothing.

All I wanted to do was leave a lasting effect. Losing to Edward made me feel inadequate and, well, impotent. If only I could reach more than his mind…

A thought occurred to me suddenly, and Edward gasped when he plucked it from my thoughts. I knew at least one part of his body I could control. The idea made him nervous, I could tell, but I just chuckled harshly at his puritanical squeamishness. Somehow, knowing that he knew what I was about to do, but couldn't stop it, made my vindication that much sweeter.

It took me mere milliseconds to pull up an image of Alice kneeling at my feet, wrapping her lips around my hard c—

"Ugh!" Edward jumped back from the table, covering his eyes like he could block my mental pictures as well. "She's like a sister!"

Fine, I thought. I didn't need Alice for this anyway. I closed my eyes and set to work remembering the feel of a hand rubbing across the front of my pants, tracing my length and slipping lower to gently squeeze my sack.

Edward's breathing hitched.

I imagined a hand slipping past my fly, reaching in to stroke my cock in one, swift pull. It circled the head with a finger, dipping playfully into the venomous pre-cum leaking from my slit. I could feel the tingling sensations whip across my body, and I focused on amplifying that feeling for Edward's benefit.

He whimpered quietly. A bouquet of emotions was welling up in him – desire, anxiety, longing, fear – but I did my best to ignore them all and flood the space between us with pure physical desire.

Next I remembered the feel of a tongue, warm and moist, licking up the underside of my cock like it was a fucking lollipop before I was engulfed into a tight little mouth. I could practically feel a pair of plump lips wrapped around me, sucking and slurping and moaning, sliding all the way down to the base of my engorged dick. I remembered vividly the way my cock would pulse with need, and how it would make me groan.

A stifled moan escaped Edward's lips, and my eyes snapped open. He had backed himself against the side of the staircase with his cheek pressed against the cool plaster. He couldn't get any farther away from my talents, though, especially since my mental descriptions were probably exciting his innocent mind just as much as what I was projecting.

The trouble was, I wasn't immune to my own gift. I realized that, even though I was still resting in the chair, my own pointless breathing was deep and labored. My pants were uncomfortably tight as I, too, was sporting a painful erection. I resisted the urge to palm it as my eyes raked over Edward.

I obviously knew what he looked like, but in my lust-addled state I was taking in new details I had never bothered to notice before. His sweater clung to him more than I'd expected, revealing the straight line of his collarbones and the curve of his chest. With the way his hands were pressed against the wall, I was able to take in exactly how long his fingers were. I knew they'd be agile, too… pianist's hands. His roomy slacks were tented tightly, showcasing how effective I was and letting me know that though his body was young, he was most definitely already a man. And a much larger man than I'd expected, at that.

The arousal between us magnified, as he felt mine and I felt his and threw it back at him.

I turned my attention to his face, wondering if he was cataloguing my features the way I was with his. The moment we made eye contact, though, something in him snapped. I felt a tiny wisp of shame, and then he pushed himself off the wall and darted for the stairs. In half a second, he was already at the landing on the second floor, and I barely had time to notice how appealing I found the curve of his behind.

It must be hard to run with such a stiffy in your pants, I noted, and heard a growl before the slam of his door echoed down the stairwell.

Intent on proving my point, I decided to follow him to his room. I stood outside his door, listening to the sounds of his ragged breaths, knowing he'd hear my location in my thoughts.

My game was far from over. Instead of trying to face him directly, I decided to up the voltage of my talent the only way I knew how. Turning to lean against the door, I moved a hand down my tensed stomach to slip under the waistband of my underwear. No one else would be home for hours, so I didn't hesitate to unzip my jeans and push them to the floor.

When I finally wrapped my large hand around my cock, I hissed in pleasure. Moments later, Edward gulped in response.

His was a lost cause, he just didn't know it yet.

Letting my shoulders sag against the door, I swept my thumb over the head before gliding my hand down my length. I pumped myself once, then again, but made sure to keep quiet so I could hear the needy sounds Edward was making.

His breathing was rapid, and I heard the faintest clicks of metal buttons being popped, and cotton sliding against skin. I stroked myself a few more times, listening to him gasp in pleasure.

It wasn't even an effort to project my lust anymore. I was so aroused, so completely overwhelmed with the desire to be touched, that I was willing to bet even the neighbors half a mile down the road were starting to rekindle their marriage.

"You know," I called out with a simpering tone. "No one would blame you if you wanted to relieve the pressure."

His voiced was laced with a hint of anger when he answered. "There's no need. It's all in my head."

I chuckled, silently commending his resilience. "Which head?"

"Fuck off, Jasper," he gasped, but the words lacked bite. He was too overcome by my talents to sound convincingly angry, and I actually laughed out loud.

"Big words, little man."

I knew my teasing would elicit some response, but I didn't want to deal with his temper, or his ego. To cut him off, I reached my other hand between my legs, gently squeezing my sack as I stroked myself again, and sent every ounce of need I was feeling out into the air. Whatever he was about to say was cut off as he cried out pitifully, and I knew I had him.

A little voice in my head, one that sounded alarmingly like Alice, warned that I probably shouldn't push him any farther. Unfortunately, I was craving release far too desperately to really take heed.

After stripping my underwear down, I took advantage of the fact that his was the only door without a lock and brazenly pushed myself into his room, half-nude and unashamed. He gasped when he saw me and quickly made to grab his clothes from the floor.

It made no difference, though. I had already seen him: standing in the middle of the room, completely bare except for his briefs, with his fingers pulling his waistband out to slide them past his erection.

His broad shoulders only served to enhance the slim tapering of his waist. He had lightly defined stomach muscles – something I hadn't noticed before. Edward usually declined Alice's invitations to accompany us to the swimming hole, so I'd never really gotten a chance to view him in all his shirtless glory. He was lean with just the barest hint of the same muscular indent above his hip bones that I had, and these subtle angles only added to his air of innocent sexuality.

There was nothing innocent about this moment though.

"Don't bother getting dressed," I taunted. "We both know what you were about to do."

He straightened up slowly and his gaze darted quickly over me, but his eyelids were drooped and heavy with desire.

I couldn't help but feel victorious. To my knowledge, Edward had never masturbated. With my senses of smell, hearing, and empathy, I was pretty sure I would have known if he had. And here he was, ready to ruin over seventy years of sexual purity because he couldn't handle my passion.

Who had the power now?

Even if I was having trouble tearing my eyes from Edward's form, I still knew he was completely at my mercy. He had looked me over, taking in my long legs and strong thighs before he got lost staring at my groin. Not even trying to pretend otherwise, he watched my erection point proudly into the air from beneath my buttoned shirt.

"Why don't you take yours off?" I suggested with a lazy motioning of one hand to his restrictive underwear.

With a hesitant nod he did so, sliding them down his tapered legs inch by tantalizing inch. It shocked me how much I was looking forward to seeing what the last of his clothes had been hiding.

Completely nude, he was a glorious sight. Tall but slim, strong but just slightly boyish; he was everything I'd thought, manifested into this physical paradox. And heartbreakingly beautiful.

I moved a hand back to my own erection, and his eyes tracked it ghosting from the tip to the base without blinking. Unthinkingly, he mirrored my actions, letting his hand hover beside his own straining stiffness.

"Go ahead," I urged. "Only, once you do, once you admit you can't stand not touching yourself, you'll know who's more powerful."

With a hiss, he jerked his hand away. His face was screwed up with agonized frustration, and I knew how much it was costing him to not give in to the desire surrounding us.

To make matters worse for him, I slowly wrapped each finger around my thick cock before sliding my hand up and down my length, twisting my palm each time I gripped the head. Edward kept his hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he was thrusting helplessly into the air in time with my strokes, punctuating each movement with a swallowed whimper. It was almost as if he could feel my hand the way I could. I could see the pre-cum beading up on his tip, and he looked as ready to pop as I felt.

Still, though, he didn't touch himself.

"Edward," I said, approaching him from across the room. He took one step backward for every one I took forward, but I quickly had him cornered against the far wall of his room. My face was mere inches from his when I ordered, "Just do it."

He shook his head defiantly, but had to bite his lip to keep from groaning with all the ecstasy and submission I was sending at him.

This was about power, and pride, and I was going to win.

"You know," I murmured, letting my lips trail along the edge of his ear. "You don't even have to touch yourself. I could make you come anyway, no hand required. I've done it before," I added truthfully.

He moaned loudly at that suggestion, unable to keep himself in check, but still shook his head.

"Say it," I commanded. "Out loud. Admit what I can make you do."

After a few seconds, his shoulders slumped and his head fell forward.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Okay, what?" I prompted.

"I… I'm hard. For you. You did this to me."

His phrasing caught me off guard, and I reared back to look at him. He still held himself against the wall in defeat, though, and I figured that was the best I was going to get.

That is, until I heard the faintest whisper from him.


Ahh, now we were getting somewhere. I smirked again and moved back to his ear, letting my strong breaths tease the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Please what?"

"Please, don't…" he croaked.

"Oh no," I answered, still delighted with my progress. "You're going to come one way or another, Edward."

Without bothering to look up at me, he shook his head sadly. "Please, don't make me do this alone. Please, Jasper." He finally raised his head a bit, staring up at me through his thick lashes and unruly hair. "Please touch me," he begged.

Touch him…? The idea was unexpected, but it made a certain amount of sense. I understood his compulsion to be touched, because I'd been feeling it since I first saw the head of his cock pushing against his pants. I knew that logic should overpower this new desire to be close to him, but I was still eager to comply. The thought of slipping my hand between his thighs was surprisingly appealing.

Instead, I pressed one palm against his chest, and lightly dragged my finger tips across his gently tensed muscles, down toward where he wanted them the most.

"Is this what you wanted, Edward?"

He nodded eagerly, making his hair flop in his face. Reaching my free hand up, I pushed his bronze locks back so I could watch his expression when I did finally touch him. I trailed my fingers across his stomach, between his hips, and down to his inner thighs. I stroked the tender skin there, drawing little patterns with my fingertips that had him writhing under my touch. He bucked his hips forward and whimpered, but all to no avail. I didn't want to give in yet.

"Who has the stronger gift, Edward?"

"You!" he gasped. "You. You're so… talented!"

His knees had started to quiver, and I momentarily wondered if he was still talking about my empathic abilities. I had gotten what I wanted, though, so I finally relented.

When I slid my palm up to the underside of his dick, a deep, guttural moan sounded from within his chest. For the first time all day I was hit with a stronger pulse of need than the one I was projecting. The unexpected sensation went straight to my cock, forcing me to thrust forward. When my overly sensitive erection jerked against his hard thigh, I cried out in surprise and pleasure.

I realized, then, that we were both in such dire states of need that we had no choice but to go through with this. I would touch him like he'd asked and, dear god, he'd better touch me back.

When I finally grasped his cock and gave it one long stroke, he brought his fingers up to clutch at my shirt. The strength of his grip tore little holes in the fabric, and I commanded, "Get rid of it. Just take it off, Edward."

Instead of unbuttoning my shirt, he tugged at the material until all the buttons popped off and it dropped behind me.

Pulsing with desire, I pressed him flush against the wall, and the feeling of his skin against mine was absolutely divine. I thrust against his thighs just as I moved a finger to stroke the soft skin behind his balls, and his low moans were turning to high, keening wails. I, too, was groaning senselessly, as he began to pepper wet, open-mouthed kisses along my neck and chest. I returned the gesture eagerly, licking along his collar bone and reveling in the taste that was uniquely Edward's.

We were completely out of control. I had created an atmosphere of such craving and passion that it was all I could do not to fuck him senseless.

That thought sparked the idea. I could fuck him.

Without warning, I wrapped a hand around the back of his knee and hoisted it up, giving myself full access to him. I wanted – no, needed – to fuck something so badly, and I was ready to take him right there as he stood. As soon as he felt me pressing up against his opening, he stiffened. Placing one hand on my chest, he tried to push me away.

I growled. It was far too late to stop this now.

"Jasper," he breathed. "Use your fingers first."

I blinked at him several times, trying to shake the fuzziness from my brain enough to hear what he was saying.

Fingers. Fingers first. … Oh.

He wasn't stopping me, he just wanted to do it slowly – to do it right.

The realization gave me pause. This man-boy had probably never been with another person in his life, or un-life. Hell, he hadn't even been with himself. The innocence he emanated wasn't a ruse; he was exactly as vulnerable as he appeared.

You don't fuck someone like that. You… show them. Show them how good it can be. We were too far into this thing to turn back now, but I could still show him how much pleasure lay in a single touch.

Without a word, he trailed one of his hands down my arm, eventually grabbing hold of my wrist and bringing my hand to his mouth. He parted his lips in invitation and, thoughtlessly, I pressed one finger between them. He scraped his sharp teeth along my skin, reminding me of the danger they possessed, before swirling his tongue around my finger like I wanted him to do to my cock. He sucked it so deeply into his mouth that I felt the back of his throat, and I shivered at the sight. His lips looked so plump and red against my pale skin. Once he'd coated that finger with his thick, wet venom, he moved to my middle finger and repeated the process, and then on to my ring finger. Not only was it sexy as hell, but a small part of me reveled in knowing he was helping me take care of him.

Somehow, mixed in with the primal desire, I began to feel the tendrils of some new emotions. Tenderness, and a hint of affection laced my thoughts and actions. I didn't want to fuck him anymore – it was more than that. I wanted to hold him against my skin and immerse myself in him entirely.

In an effort to make this as painless as possible, I returned my other hand to stroking his length, while my wet fingers circled his puckered entrance. I gently shushed his grunts and whimpers as I pressed one finger into him.

We were locked in an intense stare that felt overwhelmingly intimate. Watching him while I breached his most private place – the way his eyelids fluttered and his forehead wrinkled with concern – made it clear how truly inexperienced he was. I did my best to treat him tenderly, sliding my finger in and out of him at a disciplined pace while I still twisted my palm along his stiff erection.

Eventually his expression softened, and I added another finger, then another. He tensed up briefly, but grew accustomed to each much faster than the one before. Soon his moaning returned, and I took that as a sign.

I twisted my fist along his hard cock and asked, "Are you doing okay?"

He nodded breathlessly, beautifully wanton and eager.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes!" he panted, hooking his knee around my hip and kneading his heel into my ass to press me closer.

Removing my fingers, I took hold of my painfully hard cock and placed it against him. I rocked gently, sliding in marginally farther with each thrust. Being inside Edward was bliss – he was tighter than anything I'd ever felt, with a texture that created a delicious friction. I couldn't help but moan each time I pushed into him, and soon he was pressing himself down onto me with a synchronized chorus of groans and whimpers.

I made sure not to hurt him, keeping the pace slow and supporting his weight with my hand around his thigh. "How does that feel?" I whispered against his collarbone.

"Full," was all he said. He had curled his arms around me, hiding his face against my neck under the onslaught of feeling.

"I want it to be good. Edward, let me show you how good it can be." I left soothing kisses across his shoulder, working my way up across his neck and under his jaw as he softly whispered my name. Eventually my path led me to his face, and I didn't hesitate to place small, wet kisses on his cheek as I moved inside him.

That made him pull back, and his face reflected a mixture of surprise and happiness. His emotions flitted through the air and I took them in, learning how this sweet boy felt about losing his virginity. His joy surprised me, but I was pleased to be giving him such a wonderful first experience.

I leaned in to resume my kisses, but he pulled himself flush against me and placed his lips against mine.

I was startled, to the say the least, but his lips felt so soft against my own that I couldn't pull away. Edward's joy grew tenfold, and as I felt it I projected it back toward him along with the passion I was consumed with. I had never been with someone so blatantly thrilled to have me inside them, so unabashedly enthusiastic and responsive, and I reveled in the feeling of it. He ground his hips against me in earnest, moaning and breathing little puffs of air into my mouth with each movement.

I knew the moment I found his prostate, because his noises blurred into one long rumbling groan. I angled my hips, intent on hitting that spot for him again and again with long, gliding thrusts.

"Jasper?" he panted against my mouth.

I grunted in response, and he dragged his lips to my ear, nibbling on the lobe before whispering to me.

"You won't break me. Please."

To make his point he scraped his sharp teeth across my neck before taking the flesh of my shoulder into his mouth. I knew if he bit hard enough he'd break the skin, and his venom would leave a scar, but it would be just one to add to the hundreds of others.

It might be nice to have a scar from something this incredible, I reckoned. In response he bit a little harder, and that was all the encouragement I needed.

Somewhere between asking for my fingers and sinking his teeth into my flesh, Edward had been corrupted. It was my doing, my fault, but somehow knowing that I had single-handedly stolen this boy's innocence was by far the sexiest thing yet, and I ached to possess him.

As I scraped my hands up his body, I noticed for the first time that his hair was the perfect length to grip in my fist. Wrapping his hair through the fingers of one hand, I leaned against his shoulder with the other and pinned him to the wall before pulling nearly all the way out of him. With one long movement, I thrust sharply back into him.

He wailed, and I repeated the action.

"More," he begged, and I was lost in the complete surrender in his eyes and the shuddering of his body.

Moving in closer, I used my whole body to crush him against the weak plaster of his bedroom wall and drove into him. His neck was bent at an odd angle because of the way I'd yanked his hair. His cock was trapped between us, leaving pearly trails of venom across both our stomachs as he tensed and trembled against me. Edward made a variety of grunts and pleas, begging me to do it harder, faster, deeper, to never ever stop.

I complied mindlessly, burying my face in his neck to muffle the long string of moans and profanities I couldn't suppress as my hips slapped against his.

"Jesus, Edward. Fuck."

"Yes! Jasper," he moaned against my neck, "yes!"

The wall behind Edward quickly began to crack, and I knew I should take the responsibility for my own power and steer us to someplace less destructible. I had orchestrated this whole thing, and let it get completely out of hand. However, surrounded by the feeling of Edward's slick passage, I didn't care about the consequences or propriety of this. I only cared about our pleasure.

Soon enough I felt Edward start to tense beneath me. Wanting to immerse this naïve boy in pleasure, I made sure to graze his most sensitive spot and press his dick against his stomach with my own body as I pounded mercilessly into him. I felt his hands travel up my arms to my straining biceps – the only part he could reach since I held him down – and he squeezed my muscles with his full strength.

I had just enough sense to look up to see his face twisted in pleasure.

"Go ahead," I growled. "Feel how good it can be."

And he did. He dug his nails into my skin, no doubt leaving brief marks, as he threw his head into the wall and howled out my name.

Jet after jet of thick, venomous spunk shot onto our stomachs, and feeling Edward's release encouraged my own. I jerked into him several more times before I stilled, growling as I erupted in long, creamy streams inside him. It was better than good – it wiped my mind free of any thoughts or memories and replaced them with sheer, blinding bliss.

Soon though, having had our release, the lust in the room dissipated and I pulled out of him.

He let out an almost-pained gasp as I did, but said nothing.

I didn't know why we were still breathing hard – it's not like it helped. Picking up my torn shirt, I wordlessly wiped myself off before offering it to him. He had this completely sated, freshly-fucked air about him and his bronzed hair looked… amazing. It screamed sex, and I felt a spark of pride at leaving him so completely disheveled. I could most certainly have a physical effect on him.

Take that, Edward Cullen.

As soon as that thought entered my mind, the set of his mouth changed into a firm line.

"So," he asked, stepping deliberately away from me. "You just wanted to prove your point?"

He was abruptly furious, with just a tinge of hurt, and I was a little taken aback by it. I guess I would be mad too, if someone had just conned me into taking it up the ass. I mean, I knew the strength of my abilities, and these things happened. He certainly couldn't be held accountable for what he'd wanted when under that influence.

I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. I guess there's no chance of just taking it in stride. "I don't know, man. I certainly never meant for that to happen."

He turned away to wipe himself off before reaching for his pants. He pulled them on quickly, leaving me feeling underdressed and exposed. My jeans were still outside his door, so I did my best to ignore the feeling.

"Edward," I called, trying to move towards him, but he wouldn't look at me. "I'm sorry. We can… we can just forget it ever happened, if you want. Things can go right back to the way they were."

"I know," he answered stiffly, still not looking back at me. "That's the problem."

Then, without even putting on a shirt, he wrenched open his window and leapt through it. Before he hit the ground, I felt new torrents of emotion overpower him: grief, humiliation and an inexplicable sense of loss.

Confused and disoriented, I gathered up my clothes and padded downstairs to my room where I showered and finally thought of Alice.

Oh, Alice. What had she seen? What would she know? How could I explain?

I didn't even know what explanation there was. I'd tried to prove something to Edward but had inadvertently – what? Fucked him? Popped his cherry? We were crazy with lust, that was for certain. But when he'd responded to my advances with uncertainty instead of simply being horny, his vulnerability had appealed to me. I had begun to treat him more as, well, as a lover. It started off as pure physical need but for several minutes, when I'd first entered him, it felt more like we were making love. I could still harness that feeling, and how intensely perfect it felt.

Was that what had him so upset? That brief taste of something he had no one to experience it with?

I replayed the afternoon again and again in my head, but made very little progress in actually understanding what had happened. Why hadn't it been just a quick, dirty fuck? Why did it feel like something more? Why had I started to feel to affectionate towards him?

When Alice arrived home, ahead of Carlisle and Esme, her first move was to smack me upside the head.

"What were you thinking?" she demanded.

I raised my hands defensively, blocking another blow, but my answer came out sounding defeated. "It was an accident."

"Jasper!" she chided, completely exasperated. My remorse was evident on my face, though, as well as in the air around me. She had to know I was sorry.

With a sigh, she dropped down onto the bed beside me. "I asked you not to corrupt him. I told you to leave him alone."

It was true, she had, and I was ready to apologize, to grovel. Something in the tone of her voice caught my attention, though. Instead of bewildered or alarmed she sounded almost… resigned?

With a quiet gasp I finally realized, "You knew?" She probably saw that this was going to happen long before it did.

With wide, sad eyes, she gave me a brief nod before raising one finger to twist it through her black, cropped hair. Her locks were just barely too short, I realized, to grip in my hands the way I'd done with Edward's— no. I shouldn't think of that.

I felt both surprise and blame from her as she asked, "You didn't? Jazz, he's been in love with you for years."

Me? With me? No. Edward Cullen? It was almost too much to process. I had just accidentally made love to someone who was in love with me? It had been so tender, so passionate…

I hadn't proven anything today. My gift – my power – was apparently useless if Edward had been in love with me all along, but had managed to hide it from me. And not only that, but when I thought I was bending Edward against his will… god, I'd really fucked up royally. I'd apparently given that no-longer-innocent boy everything he wanted, only to take it away again.

After a moment of uncharacteristic silence, Alice looked up at me and whispered, "Are you going to do it again?"

Again? Jesus, how could she even think that? Even if the thought of him now raised more questions than they answered, even if the allure I now felt toward him was inescapable, and even if nothing I'd ever experienced before felt quite like being wrapped up in Edward, watching his body convulse with his need for me… no. I could never do that again, if only for Alice's sake.

"No," I finally said aloud. "I don't plan on ever letting that happen again." And I meant it.


Besides, if I ever did give in to those desires… well, at least Alice would have the comfort of knowing it wasn't premeditated. Really, knowing how good it felt to be with him, I was unable to promise her anything more.

Secretly, I knew there may come a day when I would have to touch Edward Cullen, again.

Please review and let me know what you think. And, as always, my endless gratitude to my wonderful beta Elvelethril.

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