A/N: This story was written for AHizelm's birthday! She is my lovely coauthor on the Photographer's Series and a fantastic friend, and I wanted to do a little something special for her.
I borrowed her beloved Inksper (Jasper from her Ink Street) for a little AU fun with Marked's Edward. For the sake of the story, this takes place in late April, not long after Edward and Alistair broke up. Edward moved to NYC to get away for a while. In the Ink Street world, this is about a year before the current story, and Jasper just turned 21 on April 13th.
Hope you enjoy it!
I pushed open the backdoor of the Corner Café and stepped out of the bright sunshine into the dimly lit stockroom. The strong breeze followed me, whipping my already messy hair around before the door slammed shut behind me. I took a few steps and waved hello to John, who waved back with a smile just as he headed back into the café proper.
Leaning my guitar case against the wall by the door, I shrugged out of my leather jacket and hung it on one of the hooks nearby. I took a seat on one of the folding chairs scattered around that the wait staff sometimes used when they took their breaks and wanted a place to just fucking chill together for a little while.
I began warming up, strumming quietly as I hummed a wordless tune, just letting myself slip into the music. I hadn't gotten any further when I felt a hand on my shoulder and opened my eyes – I hadn't even realized I'd closed them – to see John looking down at me.
"Hey, kid, I forgot to tell you. We got a new guy coming in tonight. Edward. Think you can show him the ropes?"
I frowned, wondering if I should be pissed the fuck off that John had hired someone else – someone to come in on my night, no less. What the fuck? Was I suddenly not good enough for him?
I knew that couldn't be it, because I was the shit.
He must've seen the disgruntled look on my face because he gave me a half-grin and shook his head. "It's not like that. He's an older guy, just moved here. Doesn't have another job, so he's going to fill in when the rest of you are in class or whatever."
Instantly, I thought I understood. This Edward became a charity case – someone John was helping out because he needed it. That shit was something I got. It was just the way my "boss" was.
I shrugged, nodding. "Yeah, sure, man. I'll show him around. Older, huh?"
John nodded and then glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a glass shattering. "Shit…I gotta go. He'll be here soon. He's going to watch you play for a while tonight and then play some himself. You know how it goes."
I nodded at his retreating back, scrubbing a hand through my hair as I muttered, "Yeah, I know how it goes…" John always had his musicians audition for him, and then there was a second audition of sorts in front of a crowd. He didn't like to do it on a night there was no one else performing, though, just in case the dude sucked – or choked.
I smiled wryly, bending back over my guitar as I put the new guy out of my mind. Based on what John had told me, I already thought of him as the "old man" and figured he was probably nice enough, given that John had hired him.
Nothing to interest me, though.
The cool April wind blew across the back of my neck as the door opened again, and I turned to look over my shoulder. The sun was too bright, so all I saw at first was the silhouette of a man with a guitar slung over his back before the door slammed shut, and he stepped in.
Good fucking god…
My eyes darted down to his feet, taking in his Doc Martens before they climbed slowly, appreciating his loose jeans – Button fly, nice…easy access – that were well-worn and seemed to mold to him in all the right ways. His sweater was thin and gray and fit him perfectly, showing me a defined chest and broader shoulders than I'd expected on a bum.
Old man strength.
I grinned to myself, remembering my brother Garrett's term for the way guys suddenly seemed to get bigger around thirty or so. This dude had definitely filled out, and as my eyes traveled upward, I found myself wanting to lick that tendon standing out along his neck. My gaze rose farther, and I felt my eyes widen when I saw that metal ball between his lips.
I wanted to groan.
Fucker's got a tongue ring?
I felt Private Jasper rise in interest, but before I could even move my eyes away from his mouth, that little metal barbell disappeared, and his goddamn perfect lips formed into a lopsided smile as he stepped toward me, holding out his hand.
"Oh, hey. I'm Edward. You're Jasper?"
I nodded, raising an eyebrow as our eyes finally met. As we shook hands, I was unable to look away from his face. He was absolutely…just…fucking stunning. I was speechless, literally, and that shit never happened to me. Ever.
My cock twitched inside my boxers as he licked his lips and squeezed my hand once before dropping it. He was talking about something, but I didn't know what – I was distracted by his messy hair, trying to figure out what color it was. It was a mix of red and brown, I think, and it looked like he'd just been fucked against the wall while someone used it for a handhold.
I put my hands in my pockets, helping Private Jasper to a more comfortable position as he was now standing tall and proud, nearly at full salute. Edward had turned away to lean his guitar case against the wall, and I tilted my head, appreciating the way his ass looked in his jeans. When he turned back to me, I caught something about it being hot, and then his arms were over his head as he pulled his sweater off.
He was wearing a thin white t-shirt underneath, and it rose up, revealing toned abs above his low-slung jeans. I caught a glimpse of fresh ink just inside his hip, and I just wanted to shove him up against the wall and take a closer look.
And then I noticed that that little trail of reddish hair that led from his belly button to the Promised Land was completely unbroken, unblocked by any sort of underwear. His pants were at an infuriating place – just high enough to hide what I really wanted to see.
Edward was talking again, and I noticed he had a nice voice just before I realized he'd been talking for a while now…with absolutely no response from me.
I rolled my eyes, smirking.
What do you know? The old man's fuckhot.
I felt a little off, disoriented almost, because I had never reacted like this to a guy before - not knowing what he was saying, getting lost staring at his lips, of all things.
I could just imagine what those lips could do, though…and that fucking tongue ring. I bit back a moan, mentally commanding my cock to stop trying to burst through my jeans. Never had I been so glad they were so loose-fitting.
It took me a moment to realize Edward was…flirting. Had to be. His eyes were mischievous as they roamed slowly up and down my body, and his tone was playful. I still had no idea what the fuck he was saying, but that was a different issue altogether.
Oh fuck, yes. The old man is mine.
I gave him a cocky smirk and waited for his eyes to finish staring at my crotch. He trailed off mid-sentence, and then those green eyes were back on mine. The expression on my face told him he'd been caught, but he just shrugged and smirked in return, bringing his tongue ring between his lips again.
"So where're you from?" I pulled my hands from my pockets, letting them hang by my sides as I finally spoke. Let him fucking look all he wanted.
I knew I was impressive.
"Boston." His eyes goddamn twinkled when he answered, and as soon as he said the word, I realized he'd already told me.
Yeah, I had no clue what he'd already told me. So what? I didn't care. The old man was just going to have to repeat himself, and he could wipe that damn smirk off his face…or I would.
"This your first time in New York?"
He shook his head. "Nah, I'm here several times a year. Most of my work is here."
"Your work? I thought John said you didn't have a job."
"I didn't…until now." That mischievous look was back on his face, and I took the bait.
"So what sort of work do you do then, Pops?"
His eyes widened as he stared at me for a minute, and then he threw his head back and laughed. "That how it's gonna be, little one?"
He turned to face me again, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at me pointedly. My eyes narrowed as I muttered, "There's not a damn thing little about me…" under my breath.
If he heard me, his face didn't betray it, but he smiled at the annoyed expression on my face. He didn't address the age thing again, but I wondered just how old he was. He didn't look that much older than me…
"I don't really have to work, but I'm putting together a picture book on tattoos and graffiti. New York is one of the best places for both, so I got someone to watch my house in Boston, and I'm here for the year."
My curiosity began to win out over my slight embarrassment and annoyance, and we talked for a little while. He explained a little more of what he was doing, and I was actually pretty fucking impressed. I asked him how he managed to come up with an idea like that, and he shrugged.
"My Ph.D. is in Social Anthropology because this sort of thing – customs, beliefs, all that – just appeals to me. Fascinating."
"A Ph.D.? No shit?"
"Damn…that's pretty impressive, Pops." He smirked at me, and I saw the way his eyes flashed as I teased him again.
He stepped closer, heading for his guitar, and he paused just when his shoulder touched my chest. He looked straight into my eyes, his lips only inches from mine when he whispered, "One of the many benefits of being such an old man. All kinds of experience."
My hard-on had been fading as we talked – not from lack of interest but from actually having something other than his fucking perfect lips on my mind – but as soon as he touched me and I caught a whiff of his clean, masculine scent, I was done for. He smelled like goddamn cedar and sage, and I'd never thought that shit was appetizing, but fuck if I didn't want to taste him then.
He kept moving, and I watched his back as he knelt to open his guitar case. He pulled out a beautiful instrument, and I couldn't help but admire it.
"Red spruce?" I asked, the pitch of my voice betraying my approval.
He nodded, glancing over his shoulder at me with a grin. "My baby."
I was surprised when he straightened up and held the guitar out to me. He nodded at my silent question, giving a small smile as he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.
I took the seat I'd abandoned earlier and began getting a feel for the instrument. I was respectful and careful – a man's guitar is a sacred thing, and I was a little fucking stunned that he'd handed his over like that. I closed my eyes, listening carefully to the sound as I strummed, and something about the clean sound went straight to my fingers. Before I knew it, I was playing the opening notes of a Simon and Garfunkel song.
My eyes popped open, and I looked up at Edward when I heard him singing quietly. "Hello, darkness, my old friend…I've come to talk with you again…"
His voice was husky, throaty, and fucking sexy as hell. I kept playing, watching him as he sang along. His eyes were closed, his voice soft, and I wanted to do all sorts of wicked things to his body. The song ended way too soon for my liking, and we sat in silence for a moment before he finally opened his eyes.
The green of his eyes was dark, his lids heavy, and his lips parted slightly as we stared at each other, some sort of electricity or some shit building between us. At last, I held out his guitar, and he took it by the neck.
"Vintage sound," I said, and it was as if the sound of my voice broke whatever trance he was in.
He smirked. "Vintage guitar." At the questioning look I gave him, he explained, "It was my dad's. He taught me how to play."
His eyes were guarded now, and I could tell there was some sort of pain there, but it wasn't like I knew the guy fucking well enough to hold his hand and ask him to tell me what was wrong. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to decide if I should say something…or stand up and kiss him senseless or what.
John – goddamn master of impeccable timing – chose that moment to walk in again. "Oh good, you're here. You guys all set?"
I cleared my throat, my eyes still on the old man until I saw him give me that crooked smile, and then we both turned to look at John. "Yup, we're good," I answered.
I glanced over at Edward and said, "I'll play the first hour so you can get a feel for it?"
He nodded as we both bent to pick up our guitars, and I didn't look at him again as I walked out into the café and took my place on stage. I felt at ease there, smiling as I greeted the crowd and started my set. I could feel eyes prickling along my skin, raising goddamn goosebumps, and I knew they came from my left…from the seat Edward had taken just off the stage.
The old man watched me all through my set. I never looked directly at him, but I could feel his eyes, and I could see him in my peripheral vision. I caught that tongue ring moving along his lips, and just imagining what he could do with that thing had me squirming and being damn glad I had a guitar in my lap.
When my hour was up, I stood, smiling wryly as I said, "I'm afraid that does it for me for now…" The protests of a few in the crowed made my smile broaden as I waved my hand, motioning for quiet. "Now, now…don't go getting too upset. I'll be back." I winked at one of the girls in the front row – she was always there. "We've got a special treat for y'all tonight. Say hello to Edward, everybody."
As I turned to walk away, I saw Edward stand and run his fingers through his hair before walking toward me. I chuckled at the catcalls from a couple of the more exuberant members of the audience as soon as the stage lights hit him. He wore that damn smirk as his shoulder brushed against mine, and it was like that electricity was back all at once, just as strong as it was before. His head turned, his green eyes meeting mine, and he watched me for a second before he turned away and faced the crowd.
I barely heard his greeting as I went to take his seat, and it took me several songs before I was finally back under control enough to really listen. Most of the songs were what I expected – some Beatles, Led Zeppelin, that sort of thing. He was kind of fascinating to watch when he played – just completely fucking absorbed in what he was doing. Half the time, his eyes would close, and his lips would purse when he wasn't singing, and more and more, I just wanted those goddamn lips on my cock.
He was a real natural, too. Between songs, he joked with the crowd, telling stories and taking requests – I had to admit that John had been incredibly lucky to hire the old man. Of course, I was better still, but he was a damn close second. I grudgingly admitted that he was better than Paul, at least.
As his hour was winding down, he moved smoothly into a song I didn't recognize at first, and I tilted my head, watching him as his eyes drifted closed. The muscles in his shoulders and arms flexed as he played, his biceps stretching that thin white t-shirt he was wearing, and I found myself wanting to feel those arms around me.
What the fuck, dude?
I shrugged it off, focusing instead on his voice as he finally began to sing, "Hey there, Delilah, what's it like in New York City?"
The Plain White T's?
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Pops has been paying attention to what the youngsters are listening to…" I muttered under my breath. He'd played a long intro, and I wondered if it was improvised or something he'd heard somewhere before. I watched the crowd as he sang, and I saw several women watching him. One even had her chin propped in her goddamn palm – all she needed was the longing sigh, and she'd have been straight out of some old movie.
Of course, as he was singing, "It's what you do to me…it's what you do to me…" I caught him glancing over at me. He raised his eyebrows before looking down at his guitar, and I felt Private Jasper respond enthusiastically.
Before I knew it, he was finishing up, and I stepped onto the stage with him, announcing that we were taking a short break. We left our guitars on stage, propped against the back wall, and when he came close to me, I could smell a faint hint of sweat on his skin.
I just wanted to fucking lick him, taste him, drink him in.
And I didn't know where the hell that urge was coming from.
"Coffee?" I asked as we walked down the steps, and he nodded, giving me a half-smile as he followed me. We went to an empty table at the back, and I turned my chair around, straddling the seat as I rested my arms on the back. I left my coffee to cool on the tabletop, but I didn't mind at all the sight of his lips pursed as he blew on his.
To distract myself, I teased him about the song choice, but he just shrugged, grinning at me before taking a sip of his coffee. "Just makes sense to give the people what they want." His eyes were following me carefully, and I saw the way they darkened when I finally lifted my cup to my lips.
Hook, line, and sinker.
What he said was so fucking true – just made sense to give people what they want. And what I wanted was him. Of course, I could tell that what he wanted was me, so we were in pretty damn good shape, the way I saw it. We still had a couple of hours to get through before I could do anything about that shit, though, so I was just about to ask him what songs he was planning for his second set when his phone rang.
"Fuck, sorry…" he muttered, lifting his hips to reach into his jeans pocket for his phone. I saw the outline of his cock, definitely semi-hard, and I smirked, taking another drink of my coffee.
Definitely fucking mutual.
I tuned out his conversation as I thought about what I wanted to do here. I could take him home. I could go back to his place. I could say it was nice to meet him and walk away. I could get to know him and date him and hope for some grand fucking romance between us.
I ran my fingers through my hair, looking down at the table though I was very aware of him close by. I raised my eyes, looking at him through my lashes. He had turned partially away, and a bright smile was on his face as he laughed at something.
Truth was, as much as I wanted him and thought he was really fucking cool, that interest in a "forever" sort of thing just wasn't there. Maybe it was the age. Maybe I just wasn't ready.
Maybe it was just that I couldn't get his fuckhot body out of my mind long enough to think with something other than my dick.
I tapped my fingers along my cup, pursing my lips as I thought. His voice broke through, and I snorted in amusement when I heard him say, "Yeah, I know. Love you, too, Katie-bug."
He snapped the phone closed and dropped it back into his pocket, arching an eyebrow at me. "What?"
"Katie-bug?" I smirked. "Cute nickname for your girlfriend there…"
He looked mildly amused. "My best friend, not my girlfriend. I'm single."
It was his turn to smirk, and I frowned slightly. Until that moment, I'd been sure he was gay. Beyond sure. Had he worded that shit that way just to be cryptic?
He drained the rest of his coffee, looked at the leather cuff watch he wore, and said, "About that time, isn't it?" as he stood.
My frown deepened as I joined him, but before we'd gone more than a few steps, he said, "I broke up with my boyfriend a couple of months ago. Wanted to get the hell out of Boston for a while, so here I am…" He glanced over his shoulder at me and said, "Hope it's not a problem that I'm gay."
We'd reached the stage, and he climbed up without another word, smiling at the crowd, waving to one of the women, completely nonchalant. I stood at the base of the steps for a beat too long and then walked up after him. I copied his attitude and said, "Hey, Pops, why don't you take the first set this time?"
He frowned a little at me, and I grinned, going to take the seat at the side of the stage. I really just wanted a minute to think, to try to figure this shit out. My mind wandered as he played this time, and I didn't really notice any of the songs until I heard the intro for "While My Guitar Gently Weeps."
"That's my song, fucker…" I muttered under my breath, clearing my mind the best I was able so I could listen. He was damn good, of course, and I really liked the way his fingers moved over the frets…I could nearly feel them moving over me, trailing down my back, wrapping around my dick…which, of course, picked that moment to say hello again. His voice was smooth, kind of pure, and it fit the song perfectly.
He wrapped things up after that, thanking the crowd for listening and introducing me again. I smiled at the scattered applause as I stood and headed for center stage. When I passed by Edward, his hand lowered, and I felt his fingers brush along my thigh. It could've been a complete coincidence, but when I glanced back over at him, his eyes were mischievous.
I kept my eyes on him as I started my first song, and it wasn't until I began singing, "You've got your ball; you've got your chain…" that I turned back to face the audience. The irony that the lyrics were far from this boy's dream was never lost on me, and I felt the smirk on my lips as I sang them.
Before long, I lost myself in my set, falling into my easy rhythm as I sang and played and worked the crowd. By the end, I was feeling kind of roguish, so without even talking to Edward about it, I said, "Now we'd like to end with a very special performance for you…" I glanced over my shoulder at him and grinned. "Come on up here, Edward."
He frowned at me in confusion before he shrugged, picking up his guitar and dragging the chair over with him. He leaned toward me, and his breath was hot on my neck as he whispered, "What the fuck are you doing?"
I turned my head, my lips nearly brushing his goddamn ear as I answered quietly, "You stole my closer for tonight, so you're going to help me end this big…now, I know you know this one, so just go with it."
He shivered slightly, and I chuckled, but before I knew it, I'd licked along his earlobe, biting it gently right there on stage. No one could see it because of the way our heads were turned, but fuck if Edward wouldn't know exactly where I stood.
His jaw clenched as he sat frozen for a moment before he nodded, the smile returning to his lips. My eyes a little wider than normal, I began to play, and the old man laughed softly as he recognized the song. He joined in immediately, his guitar a perfect counterpoint to mine, and soon our voices rose together as we sang, "Hello, darkness, my old friend…"
I was surprised by how well the sounds blended together - we'd have given goddamn Simon and motherfucking Garfunkel a run for their money. It wasn't some cheesy sing-along where we looked into each other's eyes and all that. He did his shit, and I did mine, but it sounded awesome, and the crowd fucking loved it.
Soon, I'd thanked everyone and reminded them to tip their wait staff, and we were on our way back to the stockroom. John met us on the way, shaking our hands and telling Edward he thought he'd work out perfectly.
As soon as the door to the stockroom closed, a heavy silence descended on us, and that electricity was tingling all over my skin again. We put away our instruments, closing the cases, and I stood up, about to turn around and ask the old man if he wanted to do…something. Kiss me, suck my dick, let me suck his…whatever. I'd just hit the point where I needed to touch him.
Before I could even finish my thought, though, his hands were on my hips, and his breath was tickling my ear as he whispered, "This is the part where you let me buy you a drink." He kissed my neck just beneath my ear, and his hands tightened on my hips as he added, "What do you say?"
Breathing shallowly, I stepped away and turned around to face him. His eyes and smile were both playful, but there was something burning there, something that told me that he needed to touch me, too.
Keeping my air of nonchalance, I shrugged and said, "Sounds good, Pops." I smirked when his eyes narrowed. I stepped closer, my fingers trailing up his thigh as I leaned in and whispered, "But the drink's on me. My place is just around the corner."
He smiled, and I saw him lick his lips just out of the corner of my eye. "Lead the way, kiddo," he answered, taking a step back as he reached over to grab his sweater. He pulled it on, and damn if my eyes didn't take in the way the thin fabric molded to his body, and I just wanted to rip that shit off again.
I rolled my eyes at myself, my back to Edward as I pulled on my leather jacket. When I glanced back at him, he was ready to go with his guitar case in hand, so I picked up mine, and we stepped out into the darkness together.
We talked the whole way to my apartment, the ten minutes or so filled with idle chatter about music. We actually talked about how and when we'd learned to play the guitar, and he told me he played the piano as well. It was kind of surreal, this whole getting-to-know-you bullshit when I could tell that all either of us wanted was to get a taste of each other and find out if the other was as good with his body as he was with his guitar.
As we walked into my apartment, I tossed my keys on the counter and led the way to the living room. We propped our guitars against the wall, and I draped my jacket over the back of the couch. I turned to the old man, finding his eyes scanning my place as he nodded with the hint of a smile on his lips.
"What the fuck are you grinning about?" I asked, my voice teasing as I went into my kitchen.
"Nothing," he answered, and I couldn't quite place the haughty, playful tone. "Just been awhile since I was in a college apartment."
He came into view then, sitting on one of the barstools as he watched me move in the kitchen. His smile was soft, taking the sting out of his words as he continued, "You are old enough to drink, right?"
There was this weird sadness in his eyes, and I couldn't decide what it meant. I started to ask if he just wanted to go home, but then those green eyes roamed all the way down my body, and he licked his lips with a small shake of his head as he focused on my crotch. When he looked back up at me again, the melancholy had been burned away by smoldering desire, and I smirked, keeping up the light-hearted banter. "Yeah, I'm old enough." By a week. "You sure this shit won't knock an old man like you out? I know guys your age have to nap a lot."
He rolled his eyes, my teasing finally getting to him as he said, "I'm twenty-eight, hardly old." But that damn sadness was back again, and I decided to lay off the age thing.
He looked like he needed what I did. A warm body. Soft lips. Some fucking relief from the painful hard-on that had been straining my jeans all night.
I pulled two shot glasses from the cabinet and grabbed my bottle of Jameson. I stayed quiet as I poured the shots, figuring it was his turn now. I'd brought him here. He knew I wanted him. And that was as much as he was going to fucking get from me until he made a move.
I knew it wouldn't take long.
We watched each other as we took our shots in silence, and the way his tongue licked his lips before they curved into that seductive fucking smirk had me squirming despite my determination that he make the next move.
I could see him kneeling in front of me, those perfect lips wrapped around my dick as he sucked me into oblivion. I wanted to tangle my fingers in that bronze hair and pull it until he growled. I wanted to bend him over my bar and fuck him, make him scream out my name.
But it was his turn.
He walked around the bar, coming to stand close beside me in the kitchen. He took my shot glass from me and put both of them in the sink, then moved to just behind me. He put his hands on the counter on either side of me, and I could feel his hard cock pressing against my ass as he leaned in closer to whisper.
"I know what you want." His hot breath brought the faint bite of the whiskey, and my hips shifted back against him without my fucking consent. I could feel him smile, and he ran his nose along my neck before his lips brushed against my ear. "I've seen the way you watch me…you want me to suck your dick, don't you?"
I shuddered, turning just my face to look at him. He leaned in closer, like he was going to kiss me, but his lips stopped just before they got there. His eyes drifted closed as he breathed, "And you want to fuck me. Hard."
His lips pressed lightly against mine then, just a single kiss before he pulled away and took a step back. I stayed where I was for a minute, head hanging down as my hands gripped the countertop.
Jesus Fucking Christ…who is this guy?
Finally, I turned around, my ass resting against the side of the counter as I looked at him. His eyes were that combination I'd come to expect – smoldering and playful – and he seemed completely at ease. I let my eyes roam his body, licking my lips reflexively as I thought of tasting him. I could still feel his lips pressed against mine, but it was the sight of the bulge just below his waist that put me in motion.
I took the single step it took to close the distance between us, and my hands went to his hips just as his wrapped around my shoulders. We kissed. Hard. Our lips parted, and our tongues were brushing, and I could taste alcohol and sweat and the fucking heaven that was just Edward as he sucked lightly on my tongue. I was surprised by the moan that escaped my lips, but I didn't fucking care because he ground his hips against me, and he was goddamn harder than I think I'd ever felt anyone before, and then his hands were at my waist as he unbuttoned my pants.
Everything snapped into focus a bit more then, and I was able to finally process different sensations. I felt the scruff of his five o'clock shadow stinging my lips. I felt the metal rod through Edward's tongue, and I moaned again as I imagined how it would feel on my hard shaft.
He's got to suck my dick, right?
My inner voice was nearly pleading, but it definitely seemed like he was going that way. He pushed my jeans off my hips, and his hand wrapped around my cock through my underwear, making my head tilt back as I whispered, "Fuck."
"Just give me a minute, Jazz," came his quiet reply as he stroked me through the thin fabric, "and you'll get what you want."
It was the first time he'd called me by name, and my hips thrust into his hand. It sounded fucking fantastic, and I couldn't wait to hear him moaning that shit. Screaming it.
I palmed him through his jeans, but he pulled my hand away, putting it back on the counter behind me. "Not yet," he murmured, and then he disappeared. I opened my eyes and found him kneeling in front of me. His fingers traced lightly up and down my thighs as he licked his lips, his eyes focused on my crotch. He reached up, hooking his fingers into the waistband of my boxers, and then he pulled them slowly down.
He didn't waste any time. As soon as my cock was free, he whispered, "God damn," and I barely had time to smirk before he'd licked me once from base to tip. Both my hands were in his hair, tangling and pulling as he took me between his lips.
I just had time to feel the smooth, hard stud through his tongue pressing against my slit, and then all conscious thought fled me as I gave myself entirely to the sensations of his body pleasuring mine.
As I watched Jasper's unruly blond hair disappear around the corner when he went into his kitchen, I wondered what the fuck I was doing here. My aching cock whispered the answer, and I frowned to myself, trying to decide if that was a good enough reason.
I wasn't the type for this sort of thing – picking up a guy I'd just met, going back to his place…doing exactly what I hoped we'd be doing in just a few minutes. I sighed softly, and then there was a fond smile on my lips as I thought of Jasper.
Yes, he was young. There was so much he still had to go through, so much growing he had to do – there was no way he was ready for all the things I wanted out of life. But…
I felt a pull to him, something crazy strong. He was cool and funny and actually pretty intelligent, and watching him sing while his fingers deftly maneuvered his guitar strings had had me adjusting myself all night.
I wanted him. And I could have him.
I ran my fingers through my hair, trying – for once – to not overthink everything, not get lost in the millions of questions that always ran through my mind. I second-guessed everything I did, and for just this one night, I didn't want to.
I didn't want to wonder if it was okay for me to take advantage of Jasper's youth and obvious desire. I didn't want to wonder if it made me a bad person that I didn't even know his last name or how old he was – and didn't care. I didn't want to wonder if he could maybe possibly be something more.
I just wanted to feel.
The last few years of my life had been filled with nothing but angst and drama. Too much thought, not enough passion.
For this night, I wanted passion. No thought, no regret.
With a small smile on my face, I made my decision and took a shallow breath as I went to sit on a barstool. Only a few seconds had passed, and Jasper was just coming into view across the bar.
I'd intended to let everything go, but some part of me still felt like an ass that I really didn't know anything about this guy. "You are old enough to drink, right?" The words were out of my mouth before I'd even thought of them.
I hoped he wouldn't be offended, but he took it just like he'd taken everything else – turning it around and giving me shit about my age. Ridiculously, I felt myself bristling at the implication that I was too old to drink and still keep up with him, and I told him I was twenty-eight – not old at all, really. Of course, with the reminder of my age came the predictable thoughts of Alistair and every disappointment I'd felt when it became apparent to me that we were not going to spend our lives together.
I was ready for it all – a partner, a family…my forever. And now I had nothing.
Dude, what the fuck are you moping about?
There's a guy right in front of you that wants you. A hot, young guy.
Don't you remember fucking guys his age?
The reminder made me shift on the barstool, pulling at the denim on my thighs to find more room for my hardening cock. It wasn't that sex now wasn't amazing…god knows I was still insatiable. But the stamina of a twenty-one-year-old?
We watched each other as we took our shots, and I saw the way his eyes followed the movement of my tongue as I licked my lips afterward. It was like a shot of adrenaline straight to my cock, the ego boost that came with such vivid evidence of just how badly he wanted me.
He reached down, his right thumb running along the outline of his cock through his jeans – I don't think he was even aware he'd done it. It was a tell, a dead giveaway as he practically rubbed himself while he watched my mouth that he was dying for me to suck his dick. Ironically, that was just what I wanted, too.
Looks like I could make both our dreams come true.
I smirked as I stepped down from the stool and walked around the corner. I shut off that part of my brain that tried to poke at my conscience, the part that tried to tell me he was young, that this was purely physical, and that I should leave now.
I didn't want to leave. And nothing – short of Jasper asking me to – was going to make me.
I took his glass from him and put both of them in the sink, not wanting anything to get in the way of what I was about to do. I trapped him, putting my hands on the counter on either side of him, and I pressed closely against him, making sure he could feel my arousal.
"I know what you want," I whispered quietly, biting back a moan when he pushed his ass against my needy cock. I was a little surprised – from his demeanor, I'd marked him as a top, but the way his ass was rubbing against me made me question that assumption. Didn't matter, of course, because unless he begged me to do otherwise, I wanted this twenty-one-year-old to fuck me until we both couldn't take it anymore.
I smiled in anticipation and teased him, trailing my nose along his neck, brushing his ear with my lips. Most guys his age didn't go for slow seduction, so I wasn't sure he'd ever had an experience quite like this…and if he had, it didn't matter. It was what he was getting from me either way. The buildup was half the fun.
He shuddered when I told him he wanted me to suck his dick. I knew it was true, and so did he. When he turned his face toward mine, I leaned in, watching as his eyes widened and his lips parted just before I closed my eyes…and stopped.
I could feel the heat of his lips, his breath washing over mine when I whispered, "And you want to fuck me. Hard." Without giving him time to answer, I kissed him then, just a light meeting of our lips to hint at things to come.
I stepped away, giving him space – and the time to change his mind, if he wanted. After this, there was no turning back.
He turned around, his eyes undressing me as he licked his lips, making no attempt to hide his thoughts, his desires. The single step he took was all the permission I needed, and I pulled him close as I kissed him deeply, tasting him for the first time. He was enthusiastic, moaning when I sucked on his tongue, and the excitement I could feel radiating from him spurred me on, making me grind my hips against him as I began to unbutton his pants.
I needed him, needed to feel his hard length between my lips, needed to hear those goddamn beautiful sounds he was making. I needed to know that I was the reason he was making them.
He moaned loudly when his tongue brushed over the barbell through my tongue, and that sound was enough for me. I shoved his jeans down and wrapped my fingers around his cock as far as I could through his boxers. As soon as I touched him, he tilted his head back with a curse, and I whispered quiet reassurances that he would get what he wanted…everything he wanted.
I felt his hand pressing against my dick, but as good as that felt, I didn't want the distraction. He was my first priority – I was going to show him just what an old man could do.
I felt a mildly amused fondness that was quickly overshadowed by desire as I knelt before him, letting my hands trail along his thighs as I focused on his crotch and imagined what I was about to do. My tongue ring was between my lips, the metal biting into my soft flesh before I pulled his underwear down.
He was better endowed than I'd expected, and his cock was just…beautiful. Long, straight, thick…the tip glistening with pre-cum that I just had to taste.
"God damn." I still don't know if I spoke or only thought the words, but I managed a shred of restraint, running my tongue from the base of his shaft to the head before I tasted the iridescent liquid gathered there. I felt the resistance of his skin against my tongue ring, and then Jasper's hands were pulling at my hair, awakening something primal in me.
His cock was between my lips then, the soft skin at odds with hardness it covered. I moaned, loving the way his fingers tightened in my hair when he felt the vibrations. Running the metal barbell back and forth across his slit, I wrapped my hand around the base of his shaft, pumping him slowly.
He couldn't control his movements, his hips thrusting into my mouth as I smiled around his dick and relented, taking him all the way to the back of my throat. When I swallowed around his head, he hissed, "Holy fucking hell…how do…how do you…"
He wasn't able to finish his question as I began sucking him harder, my hand pumping him in time with the movement of my mouth and the motion of his hips. He rested one hand on his ass, leaning back so he could watch me, and our eyes met when I gazed up at him. His lips were parted, his eyes half-closed, and his fingers were kneading my hair, the nails scraping my scalp.
I teased him with my teeth, and he hissed again, his eyes closing as he fucked my mouth. I let him control the pace for a while, licking and sucking when I could, and then I reached up, tugging lightly on his balls. I felt his thighs quiver, and his hands were on my shoulders, his fingertips digging into me through my sweater as he leaned forward so that I was supporting some of his weight.
"Wait…god damn…" He broke off, panting. "Fucking…jesus…wait, Edward…"
I pulled away, licking along his shaft once more just to feel him shudder, and then I looked up at him. His head was hanging down, his messy blond hair tickling my forehead as our eyes met. I could feel how my lips were swollen, parted though they were, and it felt fucking good. It had been awhile since I'd felt the soreness in my jaw, the stinging in my lips…and it had been even longer since I'd had someone respond as enthusiastically as Jasper did.
I stroked him, squeezing gently as I moved all the way along his shaft. "Do you have a condom?" I asked softly, cursing myself for being so unprepared. When I'd left my apartment that morning, I hadn't exactly planned to meet some young guy and let him fuck me – in truth, I didn't even have any condoms at my place at all since I hadn't met anyone who had made me think I'd need them.
He stared at me blankly for a second, and then he shook himself and stood up straight. "Oh…yeah…" He started to turn away and then turned back to me, pulling me to him roughly. "Fucking come here first…" he murmured just before he kissed me hard.
Our tongues tangled as our lips moved together, and his hands cupped my ass, squeezing hard as I stroked him slowly. I ran my thumb along his head, and he broke away, taking a ragged breath.
"Be right back…" he whispered, and I watched, torn between amusement and annoyance when he pulled his pants back up and buttoned them. When he walked out of sight, I left the kitchen, going to lean against the barstool again as I waited. It was hot, and my clothes were suddenly frustratingly constricting, so I pulled my sweater and t-shirt off, throwing them to the floor as I ran my fingers through my hair.
Jasper came back into view just then, carrying a box of condoms and a bottle of lube. I smirked at him, and he grinned cockily, shrugging. He stepped closer, putting them on the bar, and I pulled him to me, settling him between my sprawled legs as I kissed him again. The mindless frenzy was gone, replaced by a burning passion as we kissed. I broke away for a moment, lifting Jasper's shirt over his head, and as I was moving back in to kiss him again, I glanced down at his chest.
"Fuck," I murmured as I caught sight of the piercings through his nipples and the edge of a tattoo on his shoulder. I ducked my head, taking his nipple between my lips as I teased the metal with my teeth. I felt his hands roaming my chest and shoulders, squeezing my biceps as he enjoyed the attention I was giving him.
His hands dipped lower, rubbing me through my jeans, and I slipped off the barstool, standing so that he could unbutton my pants. I bit at his nipple and was rewarded with a whispered curse from him as his hands paused. He was swiftly in motion again, making short work of the buttons on my jeans before he pushed them to the floor.
I smiled at his second whispered curse when he realized that was all the material that had been between us. My smile faded, replaced by an "o" of ecstasy when he wrapped his hand around my shaft and began pumping me. His left hand kneaded my balls lightly, and I smiled when I realized the kid knew what he was doing. His fingers slipped lower, one pressing against my perineum as I murmured my encouragement and approval.
We stood there for some time, our legs shaking as we stroked each other, and finally I couldn't take it anymore. I was done with the teasing and taunting, and I just needed to feel him in me.
I moved my hand to the back of his neck, pulling his head closer so that I could bite his earlobe. "Fuck me, Jasper," I whispered, and his hand squeezed me almost painfully in response.
We let go at the same time, and he stepped back, his eyes on mine as he reached for the condom. I watched as he opened the packet and pinched the tip, rolling it on as I kicked my jeans off, letting them fall to the side. He smirked at me and did the same, and I took the opportunity to appreciate his slender, lanky frame. Alistair had been a fairly big guy, a little heavier than me, and it had been a long time since I'd been with someone with Jasper's wiry build.
It was fucking hot as hell.
Once his jeans were out of the way, he gave me a single kiss and murmured, "Put your elbows on the bar…" I turned around at once, and I felt him hovering behind me, kissing along my shoulders as I heard the snap of the bottle of lube. His left hand drifted down, and I inhaled sharply at the cold, slick wetness that enveloped my shaft as he stroked me. His other hand trailed down the base of my spine, slipping between my ass cheeks, and a single finger teased my entrance, rubbing circles around it.
I glanced back, giving him a small smile as I whispered, "I said fuck me…you won't hurt me."
His eyes widened, and I felt a single finger press into me, making me moan as I bit my bottom lip and closed my eyes. "Just give me a minute, Edward…" My chest shook once in silent laughter as I recognized my words. "And you'll get what you want."
With that, a second finger slipped into me and then a third, and I shifted my hips, urging him to move them. He pumped them slowly, matching the rhythm of his hand stroking me, and then he pulled away, and I felt his slick head pressing against my entrance.
"Are you ready?" His voice was husky, straining with his barely controlled desire.
"Fuck yes," I whispered, and he thrust into me smoothly. I felt the burn as the ridge of his head passed by my muscular ring, but he kept moving until he was fully buried within me. His blunt fingernails dug into my hips, and I heard his breathing – light and fast – as he steadied himself.
He pulled almost all the way out and then slammed back into me hard, and I groaned at the exquisite feeling of pain mixed with absolute pleasure. He moved slowly at first, almost erratically, and then he found his rhythm. He was pounding into me hard and fast, and I could feel his balls slapping against mine with each thrust.
One of his hands was flat against the small of my back, and the other was holding tightly to my hip as he grunted and cursed, his voice a rough growl that was so unlike the way he sounded when he sang. My own noises mixed with his, our music utterly different than when we'd performed together at the café but no less beautiful.
His dick repeatedly brushed against my prostate, but the feeling was too fleeting, teasing just enough to drive me to distraction but not enough to push me over the edge. I rested my forehead on the crook of my elbow, my nose just touching the cool bar as my panting breath warmed the space. With my other hand, I reached down, stroking my slippery shaft still coated with lube.
"God damn…fuck…Edwa-" Jasper's voice broke off with a muffled groan. "You…you're so fucking tight…"
My jaw clenched at his words, my hand speeding along my shaft as I squeezed us both tighter. His hips banging against mine jarred me, sending the most amazing vibrations all along my body, but I had to let go, dropping my cock as I braced myself with both hands on the bar. I straightened slightly, and the change in angle was un-fucking-believable as Jasper began thrusting upward, both hands now on my hips.
His breathing was growing more labored, more erratic, and I could tell he had to be getting close. His arms wrapped low around my hips as he thrust into me twice more before I felt his cock twitch deep within me. His hips kept pumping as his arms moved upward, palms pressing on my chest as he pulled me back against him. I was vaguely distracted by the scent of something sweet as I felt Jasper's forehead come to rest between my shoulder blades.
What the fuck smells like green apple?
I shook my head, chasing away the inane thought as our chests heaved while we worked to catch our breath. I gave Jasper a minute, wondering if I was going to need to finish myself off, and sooner than I thought possible, he'd placed a kiss at the base of my neck and whispered, "Be right back."
He pulled out, and my body immediately felt empty, the sense of longing surprising me. I was aching, my balls begging for release, and I had no idea if Jasper was coming back – or what he planned to do if he did. I heard water running in the bathroom just as I braced my left palm against the bar, my head hanging down as I took myself in my right hand once more. I was beyond rational thought, just needing to find some sort of relief, and I was startled when I felt arms around my waist, a hand brushing mine away.
"Oh no, you fucking don't. I'm the only one that's going to make you cum."
I shuddered at Jasper's words and his breath ghosting across my overheated skin. I turned around to face him and opened my eyes to that goddamn arrogant smirk. "Hop up," he murmured and then laughed at my utterly confused expression. He patted the bar with one hand and my ass with the other.
"Oh," I muttered stupidly, but I managed to hop up onto the bar. Jasper spread my knees and moved to stand between them, stroking me as he looked up at me. His lips were so close…I ducked my head, tasting him once again, and I moaned when I felt his left hand cupping my balls.
He broke our kiss, lowering his head, but I wrapped my fingers in his hair, tugging lightly to stop him. Nothing tasted worse than lube.
He glanced up at me in confusion, but he must've understood my grimace because he smirked yet again and said haughtily, "It's flavored."
I turned my head to the right, looking at the bottle in confusion, and I had just taken in the green apple on the label when his lips were suddenly around my cock, and I didn't fucking care how it tasted to him anymore. All I cared about was that he not stop the magical things he was doing to me until my cum was running down his throat.
His tongue swirled around my head as I rested my palm on the bar behind me, leaning back so that I could watch him. He was beautiful anyway, but the sight of him like this – eyes closed, messy blond hair framing his face, cheeks hollowed as his full lips wrapped around my shaft – it was breathtaking. A work of art. My fingernails scratched gently at his scalp as I ran my fingers through his hair, my lips parted as I watched him work.
Young he might have been, but he knew what he was fucking doing as his right hand pumped my shaft, meeting his lips, while his left rolled my balls in his palm. When I felt his fingers move further down, I inhaled deeply, spreading my knees further to give him more room. He slipped one finger within me, curving it so that it brushed my prostate, and my head fell back as my eyes closed.
"Fuck," I murmured softly, struggling to keep my hips still. My hand on the back of his head guided him, and he paid attention, increasing the speed of his hand while his head stilled. He licked and sucked at my head, the rough texture of his tongue teasing the rim as he curled it around. My lips were dry from my quick, shallow breaths, and I licked them, lifting my head to watch him again.
He turned his left hand, his finger pumping into me at a different angle, and all at once, my release was imminent as I felt my thighs tighten as heat built in my gut. "Oh fuck yes…god, just like that…oh fuck…that's…that's it…"
I didn't even know what I was saying. I was just talking to make him keep doing exactly what he was doing as his hand stroking my shaft and his lips and tongue teasing my head blended with the feeling of his finger brushing against my prostate. I couldn't help myself anymore, so close to the brink was I, and I tangled both hands in his hair, my hips thrusting upward as I fucked his mouth. His finger slipped away from me, his left hand moving to tug on my balls, and his right hand tightened on my shaft. He stroked me with my rhythm, humming his encouragement as I threw back my head and cursed.
My cock was spasming, twitching in his warm, welcoming mouth, and he drank me up greedily, his head moving as he licked along my length. He swallowed every drop, stroking and coaxing it out of me before licking my slit once more to gather the pearly liquid pooled there. When he finally pulled away, I felt my body sagging, my muscles turning to water as I marveled at how long it had been since I'd felt so utterly spent.
Jasper raised his head, licking his lips as he smiled up at me, and I could see the pride in his eyes at watching me fall to pieces in his hands. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and I moved my hand to the back of his neck, pulling him close as I kissed him deeply before I whispered, "Thank you…" against his lips.
He laughed quietly, and I thought I heard a hint of an accent as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and said, "I think I should be thanking you, too."
We kissed again, our lips moving softly together as we both enjoyed the absolute bliss that came from unbelievable orgasms. Finally, his hands slipped from my shoulders down along my arms, coming to rest on my thighs as he hummed quietly against my lips.
I chuckled, opening my eyes to find him wearing a devilish grin. Shaking my head, I laughed again, and he stepped back to let me slide down from the bar. Immediately, the joking banter was back, and when I gave a small grunt as I bent over to pick up my jeans, he teased me about arthritis.
I glanced over his shoulder at the clock on his microwave and said, "Oh shit…I better be going. Past your bedtime, isn't it?" He rolled his eyes and chuckled, giving me shit about how I needed to remember to stretch before exercising next time.
I laughed with him, not telling him about the catch that I, ironically, could feel in my back. We finished dressing, and he walked me to the door, where I winked and said, "See you at work tomorrow."
"I'm counting on it, old man."