Devirginizing Edward One-Shot Contest
Story Name: My Favorite Way to Wake Up
Pen name: SubtlePen
Warning: Graphic Slash Lemon!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight series, nor any of the characters created by Stephenie Meyer. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
To see other entries in the "Devirginizing Edward" contest, please visit the C2: www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net/community/Devirginizing_Edward/76805/
The first time I saw him, it was across a crowded lecture hall, and I couldn't look away. It had begun raining, and he was soaked to the skin. He plopped into a seat across the aisle from me, dropping his backpack between his feet and letting his head hang in frustration. He took off his glasses and attempted to dry them with the hem of his wet t-shirt, and laughed at the wasted effort. I reached into the bottom of my pack and pulled out a small bag containing my own glasses and contact stuff. I whistled once to get his attention and offered a soft dry cloth across the aisle to him, waving it a bit and pointing to my own eyes. He looked blankly at my outstretched hand, then to me and smiled. He nodded in appreciation and dried his glasses with my threadbare old bandana, then handed it back with another nod and smile. He mouthed the word 'thanks,' and I could have drowned in the mossy depth of his eyes. He seemed to shiver as he held my gaze, and although I hoped it was a reaction to me, it was probably just a chill from the rain.
The first time I heard his voice was a few days later, in the same lecture hall. He raised his hand to ask the professor a question, and the room went quiet. His words echoed, and after a momentary pause, the prof responded. He praised the thoughtful inquiry, encouraging the class to consider the possibilities, then answered in a way that left most of the class nodding. The only thing I registered was the warm gravel of his voice, and the heat that colored his face when he glanced sidelong at me. I'd been caught staring, and all I could do was smile. I didn't flinch, and I was certain he smiled back as he focused his eyes back on his notes. A spark of hope bloomed in my chest, hot and happy. Maybe…?
The first time he spoke my name was just after class that day, as we stood in the vestibule watching clouds darken the sky once more. It was also the first time I touched him. Our classmates filed out around us, bustling and annoyed as we nearly blocked one of the double doors until awkwardly shuffling aside. We stood there fiddling with our packs until we were alone, some funky anxious energy hanging between us, a fragile thing neither of us seemed to want to acknowledge, but which seemed about to evaporate the longer we hedged. "Jasper," I said, to which he looked bewildered. I stuck my hand out and said it again.
"Like the rock?" he asked, taking my hand in his.
I rolled my eyes, cursing silently. "Like the rock, and my great-grandfather."
He smiled at that. "Edward, like my grandfather," he said. "Nice to meet you, Jasper."
I smiled, and felt his warm thumb graze my knuckles as we reluctantly released each other's hand.
"Where you headed?"
"I'm done for the day," I said, glad to have the afternoon free.
He nodded. "Me, too."
We walked across campus, comparing majors, home towns and living arrangements. We parted ways a few blocks from my apartment, and I watched him for a minute as he walked toward his own, slightly embarrassed when he caught me admiring the view.
The first time we shared a meal was a week later. We left class and wandered toward a little diner just off campus. We slid into a corner booth, both of us gravitating towards the middle, less than an arm's length between us. It was closer than two guys would normally sit, bit neither of us shied away. We ordered lunch and talked about class, comparing opinions on the syllabus and our professor. Our lunch came, and we ate quietly, occasionally commenting on the food, but mostly happy in the ease of just being together. We split the bill, left the waitress a generous tip and separated with an odd wave and a 'see you soon.' I would like to have invited him back to my place to study, but the moment passed before I could come up with an excuse for not mentioning it over lunch. I didn't want to look too eager, on the off chance I'd read him wrong.
The first time we finally cracked a book together was actually at his place later that fall. He'd picked up a title off our suggested reading list and offered to loan it to me. His was a decent enough place, older and smaller than my own, but he could afford it without roommates so that made up for a lot. It was a ground floor apartment in an old Victorian house that had been split into rentals. He used the main room, the former parlour, as his bedroom/living room. What was probably a butler's pantry had been cobbled together into a tiny kitchen, and he had a bathroom farther back with a huge old claw foot tub and a window overlooking the neighbor's rose garden. There was a shared laundry in the cellar, and enough space to park his crotch rocket in the side yard. All in all, it was a good setup. I envied him the luxury of living alone.
I sat on his hand-me-down couch as we talked about our class, and later about books and music, with him stretched out on the floor across from me, his back propped against the edge of his bed. He talked with his hands, animatedly emphasizing his statements, running his hands through his hair when the right words escaped him, a wry smile on his lips when I'd correctly finish his sentences. I was more at ease with him than practically anyone I'd ever known, and I hated the days we didn't see each other. We ordered a pizza and moved on to other topics; sports, our families and siblings, high school. We didn't discuss past relationships, and it seemed to be the elephant in the room. I was pretty certain he was gay, and I hoped he knew I was interested, but being fairly new at this game made me a little queasy to just up and ask. I'd had a sort-of girlfriend briefly in high school, and fooled around a little with a couple of other guys, but had never gone farther than that with any of them. I wished I'd had the balls earlier, when we stood side by side in his tiny kitchen grabbing plates and beers, to put my arm around his neck and say something, but I'd let the opportunity slip by.
Once the pizza was stone cold, and the last beer drained, it had gotten pretty late. We hit a lull in the conversation, both of us yawning. I'd much rather have curled up beside him and kissed him until we fell asleep, but I figured rather than take the chance, I'd call it a night and head on home. He loaned me a couple of books, and walked me to the door.
"Well, uh, thanks again for the books." I stood beside the door, half facing it, waiting for his hand to reach out and twist the knob. He patted me on the shoulder, a typical 'guy' gesture. "I guess I'll see ya in class."
His hand dropped to his side, and I saw his fist clench. "Yeah, hey, no problem. You know, come on over any time you want, if you need some quiet or whatever. I know what roommates are like."
I nodded and laughed, hating that things had become so awkward. "Yeah? Cool. I appreciate that." I lifted my hand to pat his shoulder in return, but somehow our arms got tangled on the way, and we ended up with our arms around each other's waist. Automatically, I pulled him to me, and he stepped closer as if there was nothing to it. I stiffened immediately, wondering what the hell I'd just done, but his voice, breathing my name, washed all caution away. I dropped my pack on the floor with a thud, and wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. I could feel his jugular pounding against my cheek, and his hands lightly shaking where they rested on my back. "Shhh, Edward. It's okay," I said, my lips grazing his throat as I spoke.
"I'm gay, Jasper," he whispered.
I stifled a laugh. "I'm so glad to hear you say that, or this was gonna be really weird."
I felt his nose graze my ear, then his lips. "Oh, thank god."
I shifted my feet and kicked my bag away, bringing our bodies into better alignment. I pulled him tighter against me, one hand low on his back, the other threading through his hair. His hands moved slowly over my back, his fingertips gently outlining the hills and valleys. He mapped my shoulders and neck, and pulled back to look me in the eye. "Don't go," he said, pressing his forehead to mine.
"Are you sure?"
"One of the few things in the world I'm certain of is how right this feels. I don't want you to go."
"Okay," I said, smiling as I leaned in to kiss him. Our lips met softly, sweetly. Just a peck, but another followed it, and another, slower and firmer. I parted my lips and trailed the tip of my tongue across his mouth, and smiled when he did the same. We laughed, tongues tangling, swallowing each others sounds, and stumbled toward his bed. We fell across it in a heap, hands wandering, toeing out of our shoes. When I felt him grab my ass with both fists, grinding against me hot and hard, I knew we needed to slow down. I took a deep breath and put my hands on his chest, firm and still. I pressed my lips to his jaw, then his ear. "Hey…"
He ducked his head to his chin, resting his forehead on my collarbone. "Sorry," he muttered, "…carried away." He wrapped one arm around my waist, keeping us close, and brought his other hand to my face. Rubbing his thumb across my cheek, he looked up at me, sweet and apologetic.
"I'm not going anywhere until you kick me out," I said, "but I don't want to rush and fuck this up."
"Yeah." He placed a tiny kiss on my lips. "You're right."
He turned out the lights and pulled back the covers on the bed. We curled up together fully dressed, but soon realized neither of us would get any sleep like that. We stripped down to our underwear and lay back down, slowly and cautiously wrapping our bodies together, and eventually fell asleep.
That first morning, waking up in his arms, I knew my life would never be the same.
We grew closer week by week, overlooking each others quirks, learning each others stories, becoming inseparable. We talked about our care for each other, about our constant desire to be together, about the ache to touch whenever we were able. We had yet to say the 'L' word, but it was there, beneath the surface of every conversation, inherent in every touch, embedded in every new level of intimacy we explored together.
The first time he took me out on his bike was also a night for other firsts. We'd gone for a joyride early in the afternoon, but the weather turned unexpectedly nasty when we were still well over an hour from home. I hung onto him for dear life, shivering against his back in the icy rain, but he refused to take any dangerous risks to speed us home. By the time we made it back to his apartment, the rain had turned to sleet, and my jeans and leather jacket were soaked through. He'd taken the brunt of it, though, in spite of having the windshield to protect him. His hands were numb and shaking as he parked the bike, and I had to open the door when he shook too badly to hold the keys.
As soon as the door was closed behind us, we started stripping down, our discarded layers making little puddles on the hardwood floor. "Sh-h-h-howerrrr," he muttered when I helped pull his undershirt over his head. I led him by the hand back to the bathroom and turned on the tap full blast. As soon as the water was hot, I dragged him in behind me, wrapping my arms around his shivering body. The sudden heat stung like needles. It wasn't quite the way I expected our first shower together to happen, but I was more concerned about pneumonia at that point. Once our tremors stopped, we dried each other off, kissing each other gratefully, glad to be home. I poured us each a couple of shots of Jack and warmed up some canned soup while he hung up our wet clothes and dried the floor.
We settled onto the couch, cuddled up against each other, sipping our soup while the sleet became snow. We turned off the lights, opened the blinds on the big bay window over his bed, pulled the covers up to our chins and watched the world turn white. Things heated up pretty quickly though, and soon I was eagerly returning his hungry kisses, our hands tracing familiar paths across naked skin. He broke from my lips and began kissing his way down my throat to my chest, pausing to appreciate my nipples, which made me squirm, then moving south across my abs to my hips. He pushed my legs apart and crawled between them, kissing my hip bones, my thighs, and my wrists when I reached out to touch his face. He looked up at me with those big, mossy eyes and smiled, dragging his tongue along my cock from base to head. The volume of my moan startled even me.
"Shhh. Relax. Let me."
I laughed at that. As if I'd make him stop?
He worked me over slowly, experimenting, learning his own limits, learning what made me moan, what made me twitch or thrust, memorizing the texture of my skin, my shape, my taste. He'd stop now and then to stroke me, spit out a hair, kiss my belly or my hip, smile at some sound I'd made, or ask me if I liked whatever he'd just done. I was beautiful to watch, to feel, to finally share this with him, and for him to give this experience to me.
He pulled off me once more with a slurp and a wet smile, and before he could go back down, I flipped him over and pinned him. "My turn," I said, and hoped I was as good at it as Edward.
I started slow, knowing he was already pretty worked up. He was squirming before I had a chance to do much besides get him good and wet, and pushed me off with a grunt. I crawled my way back up to him and enjoyed the feel of his chest sliding beneath mine.
"Jasper, baby… god, I need you." His hands were all over my back, settling on my ass, pulling me hard against him.
"I'm right here, babe. I'm yours."
He craned his head to the side, granting me access to suck on the tender spot beneath his ear. "Jas, please…" he whined, soft and breathy. "Fuck me."
I pulled back slightly, and he said it again.
"I'm ready, Jas, and I know you want me just as bad." He arced his hips up against mine, grinding our cocks together. "Please…" he whispered, licking and biting against my throbbing pulse. "Fuck me."
"Jesus. Okay. Stay here." I hopped up from the bed and looked around for my backpack, praying I had a condom somewhere.
"Bathroom," he said. "Under the sink."
I came back with a brand new box of condoms and a partial bottle of lube, and stopped in my tracks at the sight of him laying there, stroking himself, smiling at me. My cock twitched, and he laughed.
"God, you're beautiful," I said, and it was true. The new fallen snow made the streetlight glow blue as it shone through the window, casting soft shadows across his face and body.
He let go his cock and held his hand out to me, laying back on the bed. I set a rubber and the lube on the bed beside him and knelt between his legs. My hands were shaking.
He sat up and put both his hands on my face, kissing me softly. "Hey."
"I don't want to hurt you," I said, my words choppy.
"We'll go slow." He picked up the lube bottle and handed it to me as he laid back down.
I tilted my head to the side, popping my neck, and dribbled a little lube on my fingertips. I leaned down and took him into my mouth, rolling his balls in my lubed hand, slowly working my way back, massaging that spot behind his balls, and eventually teasing his virgin hole with my slick fingers.
"Mmm?" I mumbled, my mouth stuffed full of his rock hard cock.
"Yeah. More," he whispered.
I looked up and saw him propped on an elbow, watching me. I tucked the tip of a finger into him, completely unable to imagine doing that with my dick.
"Yeah," he said, gritting his teeth and nodding. His fingers tightened in my hair, then relaxed and combed through it gently.
I added a second finger, then a little more lube, and a third, gently moving, feeling his muscles softening minute by minute. He collapsed back onto the bed, pushing his hips toward me, panting softly. I withdrew my fingers slowly, and his head popped up with a question in his eyes. I brought the condom packet to my mouth and tore it open. He smiled and relaxed once more. I lifted his ankles and propped them over my shoulders, then dragged my cock against his slick ass.
I pressed my head against him and felt it slip in, past the tight ring of muscle at his entrance, and I was overcome with emotion. He gasped and reached to pull at my hips, drawing me in, drawing me closer.
"Oh god, Edward…" My chin hit my chest and I squinted my eyes, not wanting him to see me weep.
"It's okay, babe. C'mon." He nudged me with his hips, encouraging me to move.
I wiped my eyes with the inside of my elbow and slowly, shallowly, began to move, holding his ankles in my hands. I listened to every breath, every gasp and pant, every soft moan. I knew when I'd hit too deep, or at a bad angle, and also when we hit our stride, doing everything right, meeting each other perfectly in the middle. They intensity blew me away – the heat and tightness of his body, his hands and words urging me on, the emotions welling for the man beneath me, all conspired to push me close to the edge. "I can't… so close."
"Shhh, slow down." He pulled back, tipping his hips, and I slipped out. "Lay back."
I flopped down beside him, out of breath and overwhelmed, but anxious to see what he had in mind. He kissed me deep and straddled me, bracing one hand on my chest and the other reaching behind him for my cock. He lifted himself above it, and slowly lowered down, engulfing me once more in his tight heat.
"Ahh! Fuck, yes.!"
He smiled, winced a bit, shifted, then settled into a gentle rocking motion. He sighed, and I knew it was as good for him as it was for me. I had to smile at the sounds in the room, the bed squeaking, our breathing, our bodies colliding. Watching the sinuous undulations of his hips and abs as he writhed above me, his body stroking me, and his cock slapping against my belly in time with his hips all quickly had me on edge once more.
He reached down to stroke himself, and I put my hand over his. Within seconds, he painted my chest and our hands white, crying out my name to god, whimpering and grunting through his high. I braced my hands on his hips and drove into him, following him over the edge moments later. He flopped forward onto my chest, smearing us both with his release. I felt his legs quiver against my sides, and I scooted away so he could stretch out. Our legs were twisted together, and our trembling fingers, as well. I was too exhausted to kiss him, but I turned my face toward him, my nose resting against his cheek. Once I caught my breath, I pulled off the condom and dropped it on the floor beside the bed, then grabbed my boxers and dabbed off the worst of the mess, laughing at the futility.
"Fuck it," he said, and pulled me in for a sighing kiss.
He smiled and rubbed his nose on mine. "Yeah. Better than okay."
I kissed him again and pulled the covers up over us once more, feeling a chill seeping in around the old window beside us. We shifted around for a minute until we were both comfortable, and I felt the pull of sleep. Just as I drifted off, I heard him whisper "love you," almost as if it were an afterthought. I held my breath for a second, wondering if I'd imagined it, but I could tell he was holding his breath, too. I propped myself up on one elbow and gently nudged him to face me. I looked into those deep, mossy eyes and knew it was true. I felt the same way. Yet another first.
"Love you, too."
The next morning, after the best night of my life, I woke up to his head on my chest, his naked body entwined with mine, his smell in my nose and his taste in my mouth.
Ten years later, in a different bed, in a different house, but with the same man… it's still my favorite way to wake up.
thank you for reading! leave me your comments?
To see other entries in the "Devirginizing Edward" contest, please visit the C2:
www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net/community/Devirginizing_Edward/76805/