SLASH BACKSLASH ONE-SHOT CONTEST
Story Name: Assumptions, Senses and Seductions
Pen name: LyricalKris
Disclaimer: Pretty sure I'm not getting paid for this. Stephenie Meyer owns them and me.
To see other entries in the "SLASH BACKSLASH" contest, please visit the C2: .net/c2/68069/3/0/1/
It doesn't take that long to tune a guitar. Course, I could make it look like it took a mite longer than it needed to, when I wanted to. It was an art I had perfected, to be sure, because sometimes you just needed to stall.
What had happened to make me so suddenly clumsy with my instrument was that I had caught this pretty little thing staring at me from across the lawn. Staring when he thought I wasn't looking. But I was.
That's the benefit of wearing sunglasses, even in this godforsaken town that the sun had neglected. No one can tell if you're looking straight at them.
And I was looking. Good, GOD was I looking.
The boy had been put on this green earth to be looked at, of that I was certain. No one had created this kid with the intention of no one noticing him. Now, I'd heard the term striking before but this was the first time I actually understood what it meant. I took one look at him and I was definitely struck. It was like a painless slap to the face, catching my attention and holding it.
My head snapped up so quickly I twisted it. "Shit," I muttered, rubbing the sore muscle as I looked over at my boss, Maria.
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," she said as she came up to me, a scowl on her otherwise pretty face. I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from scowling right back. She was the epitome of the bitchy boss. She prided herself on the fact that her employees couldn't get away with anything and who were obedient to her every command.
What she didn't need to know was that I was a lot smarter than her.
"I'm not sure what you're talking about ma'am," I said innocently as I set my overly-tuned guitar on its stand.
I heard her scoff. "Right. I know what you look like when you're eyefucking someone. I've seen the way you look at Peter."
That was a low blow that almost knocked the carefree smile right off my face. She knew damned well I had carried a torch for our bassist, Peter, for a long while.
Peter who'd been married to our drummer, Charlotte, last summer. I played that gig too, which, let me just add, was more on the bitter side of bittersweet. But that is a story for another time.
And fuck if I was going to let Maria win this round, so I just kept the serene grin on my face.
She narrowed her eyes. "Jasper, I mean it," she warned. Then she laughed. "It's uncanny. Your taste runs to exactly the people it shouldn't." She nodded at the guests and I followed her gaze to where the demi-god sat in all his bronze haired, green eyed glory.
"Oh, fuck my life," I muttered under my breath.
He was seated now at the place of honor.
That made him Edward Anthony Cullen, and that made today his birthday. His eighteenth birthday to be precise.
I knew this because I played birthdays for a living. Birthdays and Bat and Bar Mitzvahs and weddings. Once, I'd even played a car dealership opening.
That day I'd been hired, as part of Maria's merry band of entertainers, to play Edward's eighteenth birthday party by his mother and father, Esme and Carlisle Cullen. What that meant was all of this grandness that surrounded me - the property that stretched on for another half mile passed the river, the huge backyard that more than adequately housed the hundred or so people that were milling around and the ridiculously huge mansion that could have sheltered an Irish-Catholic family of forty-seven and counting - his home.
Maria fixed me with that condescending, knowing look; the one that said - Uh huh, Edward Cullen lives the lap of luxury - and he's not going to give it up for a lowly prick like you.
It may have been the twenty-first century and all that, but some things didn't change.
Fury and indignation began to bubble in the pit of my belly. I made myself turn away from my bitch of a boss under the guise of checking the connection to Peter's bass. I needed the gig, I reminded myself.
I chanced a glance at the youngest Cullen child. He was looking at me again - out of the corner of his eye as he chatted with a slightly older man who, judging by the pretty face, had to be his brother. Emmett, I think that was his name.
Boy had some pretty dimples, surely. Built too. Tasty, if you were in the mood for that flavor.
But I had tall and lanky on the brain.
That was when I decided that I would have Edward, regardless of what Maria's opinions were on the matter.
The employer's son. The birthday boy.
Why the hell not? That just spiced the pot a little bit. Gave the chili a little kick.
And what was life without kick?
I caught his eye as I knelt, messing with the wires. Making sure mommy and daddy were otherwise occupied, I winked at him.
His eyes went a little wide and he gave what I'm sure he thought was a surreptitious glance over his shoulder to see if there was anyone else I could have been winking at.
I looked down at the cords, letting my grin spread wide over my face.
That was just darling in a way that made my chest feel warm.
There's something to be said about live performance. Like any first time job, this one could be thankless, but I always knew I had it better than the office peons, the fast food denizens and, the lowest of the low, the poor souls in retail.
No, man, I knew I had it good. Yeah, I had Maria yanking my chain this way and that, and I had to deal with the politics of pleasing the people with the money - even if I didn't like them - but I still got to communicate with people in the way that only music could.
You can't really appreciate what a performer pours into a song unless you see it with your own eyes and hear it with your own ears. That's when you see the soul of a piece; its beating heart. That's when music lives.
Maria had warned me not to mess with the kid, but from where her keyboard sat, she couldn't see me. It only took a little bit of ingenuity to outsmart that woman. She could order me not to seduce the boy verbally, but she couldn't stop me about thinking of what I wanted to do with the young Prince of Forks. I was fair certain that I could do things to Edward that he'd never even stopped to imagine.
So I thought about it.
I thought about running my fingers through that hair of his - just like I'd seen him do so often as I watched him. I thought about the way I would sweep that little bit of almost-long hair away from the shell of his ear so I could lean down and he would feel my breath hot on his skin.
I thought about the things I would whisper at his ear, my voice in a low rumble as I told him what I wanted to do to him - what I could make him feel.
I thought about the way his body would respond to my touch, my hands down the lightly defined length of his body, and my fingertips tracing muscles through layers of clothing as our lips met for the first time. I thought about my tongue tracing the line of his lips as we kissed and then sliding along his as my fingers unbutton the shirt he was wearing. I thought about the way his skin would feel under my palms - heated and smooth.
Then I would kiss a trail up to his ear and I would tell him what he was going to do for me; to me. I would feel the shiver that raced through his body and the emotions that would war in his eyes. Incredulity. Fear. Nervousness.
Want. Need. Excitement.
I thought about the way his eyes would stay with mine as he sunk to his knees like I'd directed.
I thought about all of those things, and when I started to sing, I looked right at him. As I sang our songs to him, I put all of that heat, and want, and lust into my voice and my eyes.
Hell, I could have made Mary Had A Little Lamb sound erotic, the way I was singing it.
Sure enough, he was squirming in his seat within less than a minute. He crossed his legs to hide his...discomfort in less than two.
Very deliberately, I smirked directly at him.
His features froze for the space of a heartbeat, and then his eyes narrowed. This time he knew it was him I was looking at.
I quirked one eyebrow, acknowledging and confirming that I was looking at him, and then I looked away. For a few minutes I did what I normally did. I engaged random people in the audience with my eyes and for seconds at a time I sang to only them. I grinned through the words. I gave a little eyebrow wag.
Then, my wandering eyes stopped on Edward again. I tilted my head to the side and resisted the urge to wink. No, that would be too obvious. We wouldn't want mommy and daddy to see that now would we?
When I was sure that he felt the heat of my gaze like a physical thing - and the way he tugged at his collar made me pretty damn sure - I moved on again, smiling at the audience with innocence.
I conjured up my hunger for the golden boy as I turned to tease him again. I almost dropped my guitar when I saw what he was doing.
His head was slightly bowed so that when he looked at me, he was looking up from underneath his long eyelashes. His eyes weren't shy or coy - like the blushing school boy I'd imagined him as. Oh, no. They were predatory. He was like a hunter laying the trap for his pray; just waiting for it to walk right into his wide, ready mouth.
The look on his face, the smirk on his lips, told me he was positive he had me.
And suddenly, I didn't have to conjure up images of what I would do to him to feel the need I poured into the words I sang and the notes I played. Oh, no. The want - that was all natural now.
I wondered what he thought he was up to. Well, hell - maybe he was getting a jump on that whole experimenting in college phase. Whatever - I could do worse than to be a pretty boy's one time indulgence; the secret he'd keep from his high class society wife down the line. It wouldn't be the first time.
As I continued my song I let my eyes wander to Edward's family. His parents and brother sat on either side of him - all of them varying degrees of manicured and lovely. I tried to imagine him bringing me - wrinkled and very, very male - home as a dating prospect.
I almost laughed out loud. Never gonna happen.
No, he wanted to play. Well, alright then.
Game on, Cullen.
I was going to wipe that smirk right off his face.
Now, there were a lot of things about our drummer, Charlotte, that I didn't like. All of them had to do with the man she was fucking and I wasn't, if I was being honest with myself. That aside, even I had to admit that Charlotte was good people.
Among other things she made for an excellent wingman. Part of me wondered if she suspected my crush on her husband as she was always trying to set me up or otherwise enable my flirting with guys who were not Peter.
"Hey, Char, " I whispered to her as we were disconnecting our equipment after our set.
"Hey, Jazz," she whispered back, looking up at me briefly.
"Cover for me? I have a baited hook to attend to," I said, waggling my eyebrows at her.
Charlotte laughed quietly. "Who you after?" she asked, scanning the crowd. Right at that moment, Edward happened to be looking right at me again.
And he was drinking from a bottle of Pepsi.
And he was doing it in that way - where his tongue darted out to lick the condensation on the side of the neck before he pressed the tip to his lips.
"Damn," Charlotte turned back, obviously impressed. I shook my head to clear the lust induced fog that had settled over it and she laughed. "The birthday boy no less. You do aim high, Whitlock."
I just smirked and looked back at her with a cocky grin. "Maria told me not to do it," I added nonchalantly.
Really, I was just cinching the deal because Charlotte - she hated our boss. Which, of course, meant that she would do anything in her power to go against Maria's wishes. "Alright Whitlock. I'm in, but watch yourself, kid. Not to be all Titanic, Jack Dawson-Rose DeWitt Bukater on you and all but the likes of him don't typically mess with the likes of us in general and you specifically if you know what I mean," she said seriously.
Scoffing, I turned away quickly. "Look, I promise if the house starts to sink into the ocean I'll get on the fucking door with him, okay?"
"You know that's not what I mean," she said quietly, and when I turned back to her the look in her eyes was nothing but sincere. "I don't want to see you get hurt because some rich bitch was slumming it for a quick fix, or using you to rebel against blue blood society."
"Christ, Char, I'm not marrying the kid. It's been a long while since I had anyone's hand but my own on my cock, that's all. What makes you think that I'm not using him?" I chuffed.
"Because I know you, Jasper. You're not a player. Never were," she shot back. Then she rolled her eyes. "And Jesus do you have to be so fucking crude?" She smiled then and I smiled back. "Go on then, tiger. Just-"
"Be careful. I know," I grumbled.
I straightened up then, purposefully stretching my arms up and out - knowing full well that my shirt was pulling taut against the muscles of my chest. With the light wind blowing my open, white button down shirt away from my body, I could have been in a boy band video.
Except I was a lot better looking than Justin Fucking Timberlake and I knew it.
And, judging by the gape-mouthed expression I caught on Edward's face out of my peripheral vision, he was in agreement.
Who's bringing sexy back now, bitch?
Charlotte, facing me with her back to Edward and the crowd, rolled her eyes, knowing what I was doing.
I grinned at her and jumped off the stage.
I knew he saw me when I sauntered into his house like I owned the place.
I knew he would follow me, eventually.
It was just a matter of waiting. So I waited.
When I was sure no one was watching me I darted up the stairs to the second story where I could watch people bustle in and out of the house. Besides the usual servers and all of that a few of the guests had meandered inside.
It didn't take long for the birthday boy to make an appearance. Because I was listening for it, I could hear the nervousness in his voice when people stopped him for a little chat. He knew what he was doing and he didn't, I'd imagine. He knew he was looking for me, but he sure as hell didn't want anyone else to know that.
I smirked to myself.
When his shiny, copper penny head appeared in my vision I nearly licked my lips in anticipation; like a tiger stalking his prey. Or maybe a human game hunter was more apt, as we were smart enough to draw our quarry to us.
And he was mine - in case he didn't know it yet. I would have him.
Taking a quick look around to make sure he was the only one in the foyer, I stepped forward. The movement caught his eye, just as I'd hoped, and he looked up. I tilted my head down at him and pursed my lips just so.
And then I walked away - out of sight down the hallway.
I leaned with my back against a closed doorway, propping one foot up behind me, and waited.
Patience was actually a virtue of mine.
As I'd predicted, Edward didn't make me wait long. It was only a minute before I heard footfalls on the stairs. As I hadn't heard anyone else enter the foyer, I guessed it was him.
Sure enough, he peeked around the corner with an uncertain look on his face.
We had a little staring contest, each of us assessing the other. I know what he saw. He saw me leaning up against a door in his home, staring at him with my head tilted in that way the old, English books might call a come-hither stare.
I called it step one...because I planned to have him with all five of my senses.
His whole being gave me an excuse to use the extensive vocabulary that the pretentious private school my mother insisted I attend - to fit in, as it were. Not that it worked... but it served me well that day because I just hadn't seen a specimen quite as fine as this one before. Beautiful just wasn't going to cut it.
Up close, he was celestial.
His body was lean and lanky, his limbs proportioned with both strength and grace. His hands, frozen at his sides, extended into long fingers that looked like they could accomplish whatever dexterous task I put to them quite efficiently. The way his white dress shirt hugged his torso hinted at a muscular build that I couldn't wait to feel under my fingertips.
His tie, as I got to his neck, was askew. I felt my grin widen remembering his nervous restlessness as I'd watched him from the stage. His hands had always seemed to give away a slight agitation on his part - always running through his hair or tugging at his tie.
I let my eyes travel up the lines of his neck, imagining the kisses I would place there, leaving a slightly wet trail up to his strong jawline. I could imagine perfectly the feel of his stubble against my lips. Bronze tinged stubble over a jaw that would make Zeus jealous, lips so pouty and perfect that Aphrodite would weep and those eyes...
Sight - consider yourself eye-fucked Mr. Cullen.
Watching the expression on his face change was just amusing. I could see it clearly as he pushed the shock and nerves back and he straightened himself up, squaring his shoulders like the little lord of the castle. I did not, in fact, own this place; he did, and he was taking control of this situation right the fuck now. It was like watching a little boy trying desperately to pretend he was a man.
It was just precious.
"Look, are you supposed to be up here?" he asked in a steady voice.
And fuck if his voice didn't match that face of his - just pretty. All male but with a smooth timbre like he was singing a song. I bet he had a voice on him when he sang that could give that Michael Buble motherfucker a run for his money. Or, you know - no. There was just a little bit of gravel to his tone that could be so sexy in a low, bluesy type of number. Just right. Just right when he murmured in your ear, I bet.
And I was going to find out.
After all - sound was step three.
Right after scent.
"Oh, I'm sure I'm not supposed to be here, but what the hell. Rules are made for breaking right?" I pushed myself off the wall and took a step toward him.
Almost instantly, his bravado slipped and I saw his eyes dart down my body and back up to my eyes. "Right...well, I'm sure that's a good way to lose a job," he said, and I had to give him credit - his voice was still steady. Kinda breathy, but steady.
But it completely lacked that indignation folks had when they sincerely felt I was in the wrong or I was stepping out of my designated place in the world.
And when I stepped toward him again he didn't step back. I saw his body tremor just slightly, and heard him swallow thickly, but he didn't move. I reached out, running my thumb over the rough stubble on his otherwise smooth face. His Adam's apple bobbed as his breath stuttered, but he didn't pull away.
"What are you doing?" he murmured, his eyes not leaving mine.
"You're threatening to get me fired. I may as well do something to deserve it."
He shook his head, his eyes flitting down to my lips as I stepped closer to him. "I'm not going to get you fired." His voice was so low and barely there that it reminded me of far away thunder. The heat between us felt heavy like the air right before it rained. Humid. Alive.
"Oh, good," I rumbled back, distracted by the atmosphere and the way his tongue swept over his lips as I took one final step closer to him. "That'll make this a whole lot sweeter."
I leaned in as if I was about to kiss him, enjoying the catch in his breath and the way he tilted his head just a little bit toward mine. I didn't miss how his voice whined a bit in the back of his throat when I bypassed his lips completely. Grinning, I let my nose skim the line of his cheek. I nuzzled the hair at the side of his head as my hands settled at his waist. His hands came up to cup my elbows - all tentative like - and I felt his shaky exhale hot on my neck.
Pulling him flush against me, I inhaled with my nose near his ear. As I trailed a line from his ear down to his neck, I could feel his body tremor against mine. Nerves.
And I was driving him crazy. I knew it. I could tell by the way his hands gripped my arms and his breaths were all shallow.
He smelled delicious and intoxicating all at once. Like wine, when you smelled a person, you could almost taste them on your tongue. He smelled just like a man should when he has lust and want and the excitement of something new and slightly dirty coming off him. I could smell the woodsy cologne he had on, but underneath that was the salty-sweet musk of pure male pheromones. As I breathed him in I felt the heat rising in my body.
It was getting to that point where I couldn't go slow anymore; I couldn't tease him without teasing myself into an absolute frenzy.
Almost. Not yet.
With my nose at the crook of his neck I heard clearly when he smacked his lips, swallowing and trying to speak. "This seems inappropriate," he said, and I was pleased that his voice finally had a little bit of a tremor to it.
I didn't even look up. No, I just reached up and loosened his tie even further, slipping it right off and discarding it without a second thought. "Don't think your fellow blue bloods would approve?" I guessed. I was about to tease him that if he wanted to get away from me, all he needed was those two long legs of his when I heard him scoff.
"That's not what I meant. We don't even know each others names."
Whatever helps you sleep better. "I know your name, birthday boy," I teased as I straightened back up, looking him in the eye again.
He arched an eyebrow. "Well, I don't know yours."
As he spoke his hands, at my elbows still, tightened, stilling my arms from where they had been moving to his back. I stared for a tic, surprised...and I had to admit, impressed. His confidence wasn't wavering nearly as much as I'd expected. Oh, sure. There was that slight fluster about him that told me he really was new to this, but he sure as hell wasn't a pliant puddle at my feet just yet.
I had to grin at him. Alright, I'd give him this one without a fight. It was reasonable enough given that I wouldn't mind if he screamed it later. "It's Jasper. Jasper Whitlock if you need the whole thing," I said, pursing my lips and studying him again curiously. His hands released my arms almost as soon as I got my name out.
Unable to resist the urge anymore, I reached up and took his face between my hands. Automatically, his eyes hooded and his breathing sped. I was surprised to find that my own heart was working in double time all of a sudden. "Just Jasper Whitlock? No middle name?" he muttered, staring at my lips in a highly distracted manner.
I chuffed. "That's all I need, slick. I don't need four different names like you rich kids. Jasper Whitlock does me just fine."
His eyes darted up to mine and then back down again, his cheeks flushing under my finger tips. He was blushing and I gave a little laugh. "You really do have four names, don't you?"
He rolled his eyes. "Edward Anthony Masen Cullen."
Then I was laughing. "The third?" I chortled.
He rolled his eyes again and grinned somewhat sheepishly. "No, I'm one of a kind."
"That I believe," I mumbled under my breath.
And then I kissed him.
Edward was definitely not shy about the kissing. When my lips met his he was ready and he was willing. His arms snaked around me, hands splaying wide against my back as his lips moved with mine. He let me control the kiss, but told me simultaneously what he wanted - opening his mouth to me in invitation before I could ask - or demand - to be invited in.
Fuck if he didn't taste exactly as he smelled - salty and sweet and and rich all at once.
But this didn't count as a step. Oh, no. The last step was taste and it was intended to be a much more thorough devouring. This was just a sampling, and like any good appetizer it whetted my appetite for the main course.
I moved my hands back down to Edward's waist, pulling him harder against me, and he gasped into my mouth. He tried to move back but I kept him moderately still when I figured out what his problem was.
It appeared that I wasn't the only hungry one.
That was about when I decided that we needed to move this little party for two to a more private locale.
I put my lips back to his, kissing gently as I stepped backwards, pulling him back with me. "Do you know what I do like about you rich folk?"
"What's that?" Edward murmured between kisses.
Instead of answering right away, I grabbed him by the collar of his neatly pressed, button down shirt. I yanked him forward, kissing him with demanding lips. I groped behind me with one hand until I found the doorknob I was looking for. Opening the door, I yanked him inside, quickly shutting the door and pinning him against it with the length of my body. I looked around the room I'd pulled us into, laughing to myself because my assumption had been right. "Your bathrooms are always so g'damned clean, you could eat right off the pristine tiles."
Edward's eyes darted back and forth, searching mine and likely trying to decide if he liked where this was going. I didn't give him time to wonder. I leaned in, pressing my lips right below his ear as my hands went to his sides, bunching up the fabric of his shirt as I untucked it from his pants.
He shuddered, leaning his head back against the door as my lips traced his jawline. "What - ah, fuck," he hissed through his teeth as I nipped the skin of his neck. I chuckled, letting my hands slip under his shirt and up his lightly defined abs. "What do you need a clean bathroom for?"
And it was most certainly time for the third step then. As a singer, I was good at the third sense. Sound.
If you did it right, a voice could penetrate your body just as deeply, if not deeper, than any appendage. It could shake you to your core. It could kill you softly or leave you reeling,wanting, desperate for more.
I didn't tell him why clean bathrooms were beneficial to little trysts like this. No, I was always more of a visual learner myself.
Instead, I threaded a hand through his baby soft, thick hair and grasped it. Hard. But not hard enough for him to feel the pain. Just hard enough to get his attention, because I needed him here for this particular moment. "You know...boys like you are used to doing what they're told, aren't they? That's kind of the staple of your society - follow directions, right? So I want you to listen carefully."
I did have his attention alright. He'd sucked in a stilted breath when I grabbed him and his eyes were dark and slightly apprehensive as he looked into mine. His cheeks were flushed, and beneath my other hand - the one under his shirt and spread across his chest - his heart beat out a furious rhythm.
He didn't protest.
Alright then. We'd see how far he was willing to take this little experiment of his.
I leaned against him, matching our bodies up as I ghosted my lips against the shell of his ear. When I finally spoke, I growled - the sound coming from that part of me that was primitive. "Get down on your knees."
His breath stopped entirely at that and his eyes bugged out of his head in a way that made me want to grin.
There was that feeling again - that one that wasn't the heat of want but was the warmth of...I don't know - tenderness - spreading through my chest. Fondness, I suppose. Because it was quite fetching - the simultaneous innocence and confidence.
"What?" he hissed, a little loud when he found his voice again.
I swallowed his words with a thorough kiss, until I was sure he was tongue tied again. As our tongues tangled together, my hands went to the button of his pants. He whimpered into my mouth as I slid his pants down to his knees.
Touch wasn't technically a step. Touch happened during every part, and if you knew what you were doing it didn't matter what part you used or what part you grazed. My cloth covered knee on the inside of his bared leg, nudging insistantly until he shifted into a wider stance? That made Edward shiver with pleasure. The way our chests brushed as we kissed? It only amplified the heat; the friction between us. My fingertips tracing the tip of the tent of his boxers? He bucked against my hand, his lips disengaging from mine with a smack as he groaned loudly and I had to bite my lip to swallow my moan at the heat he was kicking out.
Tilting my head so our foreheads touched, I let my palm travel down his considerable length, rubbing slowly as I spoke. "You better be quiet, sugar. Don't want any of mommy and daddy's friends to hear." I made my tone as hard my cock felt right about then. Not menacing, but demanding. "Get. Down. On your knees," I commanded.
And when I told him that my pants were too tight and he should help me out with that, he didn't say a word - just did as he was told.
There was something just so sweet and intimate about being someone's first anything. And I knew that was new to him. I could see it when he looked up at me with his eyes wanting but just a little tense; his body shaking with the newness and the nervousness and what-ifs.
I was good to him - I was. I kept my hands in his hair, not pulling or yanking, but stroking my thumbs behind his ears. And I talked dirty to him the whole time - told him how I'd watched him from the stage and imagined him just like this - on his knees with his pouty lips wrapped around my cock. He moaned at that and the vibration of it just about did me in.
It was a little sloppy, as one might expect, but the kid was a quick study for sure. He was observant. He noticed when he swirled his tongue around my length my breath hitched and my words strangled. He figured out that he could use his hands at the backs of my knees and the inside of my thigh and cupping my balls if he wanted me to make those ridiculous noises. When I told him I was gonna come, he kept right at it until he'd swallowed every last drop.
As I was panting, leaning my forehead against the bathroom door, I tugged at his shirt, commanding him to stand without saying a word. My hands stroked the skin at his neck as I caught my breath, and he had this adorable smile on his face - like he was just pleased as punch that he'd brought me pleasure.
That was when I started in on taste in earnest.
First, I tasted myself on his lips and as my tongue probed his mouth. I liked that more than usual - his taste and mine, mingling; salt and sweet and bitter.
I pulled the collar of his shirt down and I thoroughly licked my way from his neck to his shoulder. At his shoulder, where it could be easily hidden, I sucked his skin into my mouth hard - making him gasp and his arms tighten around me.
Because I wanted him to feel me there for days. There was something about leaving my mark on him - where they all could see if he cared to show them. Not that he would.
Then, I dropped to my knees in front of him. This, I could tell, he was used to. I could see it in the way he leaned up against the bathroom door. In his grin of anticipation as he looked down at me. In the way he stroked my cheek and down under my chin.
I didn't mind that as much as I thought I would. He'd done for me without complaint and I wasn't going to leave him wanting. And besides that, I wanted to taste.
I pushed up his dress shirt and pressed wet, warm, open-mouthed kisses along the lean definitions of his abs. I ran my tongue around his belly button. I wrote my name with the tip of my tongue down the coppery trail of goodness that disappeared into his boxers.
He was a mess of auditory goodness by the time I finally took him into my mouth. The stiff way he held his legs made me think he was keeping back from thrusting. I reached around, grabbing a cheek of his ass in each of my hands and pushing him against me. He panted, his hips finding a slow, easy rythm that contrasted with the voracious way I was licking and sucking and tasting every inch of his thick cock.
It worked on him because he was chanting my name in a whisper like a train speeding up. It only took a couple of times of his cock hitting the back of my throat for him to seize up. He muffled his cry of pleasure against his arm and I smiled as I got to taste him in full.
It was bittersweet both literally and figuratively speaking. Bittersweet because I liked this part - when both of our bodies were slowing down from the frenzy and there was a lingering tenderness. But it couldn't last. It would just be a few minutes and this bubble would break. He would remember who he was and who I was, and that good little rich boys don't kiss other boys. He would dismiss and go on with his life.
But I pushed that aside as I stood, pulling his pants up and tucking him back in with soft, easy movements. I kissed him gently and smiled when he kissed me back.
And then I took a deep breath and stepped away, turning my back to him so I wouldn't see that moment where he started to regret what he'd just done.
"That was... unexpected," he murmured, sounding like he was talking to himself more than to me. "I've never thought... I never had..." He seemed to have lost his gift for articulate speech.
A flicker of annoyance turned on in me and I thought it best to just cut to the chase. "Look, just don't come to me when you have some sort of crisis. It isn't my fault you don't know who you are," I grumbled as I tried to figure out where my belt had gone.
I heard him scoff. "I don't think I'm supposed to know who I am at seventeen, am I?"
Not really expecting that, I turned to him. He was leaning against the doorway with hair that looked like he'd been mauled by a tiger. He looked... relaxed. A little...bemused, maybe. I shrugged my shoulders wondering what game he was playing at. "Known a few who think they do."
He smiled in a cockeyed kind of way and propelled himself off the door. "Well, I'm smarter than they are."
The affection and familiarity in his voice made my heart give a little flutter - and that made me nervous. Real nervous. I was wary - waiting to figure out exactly how he was trying to play me for a fool. "Except that you forgot you're eighteen. How smart does that make you?" I asked, turning away from him again.
There was a long, drawn out silence.
"You're upset," he observed finally.
I laughed. It was humorless. "I'm not upset. I'm just trying to figure out what you're playing at. Look, I don't know what you think you're doing. Trying to make a fool out of me, whatever. It's not going to work."
He blinked at me, looking shocked. "I don't understand."
"Why are you still here?" I asked, irritation rising. I didn't really understand it but I couldn't stop it either. I was upset, and getting increasingly more so. "What, are you going to sit around and pretend I've opened your eyes? You're not going to go back to whatever debutant girls are waiting to hang off your arm?"
Edward outright gaped at me. Then, abruptly, his mouth snapped shut, his teeth clanking together audibly. "You know - I brushed it off before, but this isn't the first time you've mentioned my...social status. What is your problem, Jasper?"
I didn't answer because I was furious and I didn't know how to put it into words. I was confused because I wasn't used to this - someone sticking around as long afterward as he already had.
I was used to the rich bitches that had mommy and daddy to answer to, and they were so afraid of them I'd only ever been a quick romp in a ridiculously spacious, meticulously cleaned bathroom.
I was used to boys who got lost in the moment - and it sucked having to watch their face fall with horror at what they'd done - at what I'd done to them.
When I didn't answer, Edward filled in the blanks for me. "Do you have some sort of problem with who you are?"
"Oh, come off it," I hissed. "Like you're going to march down to Mommy and Daddy and tell them their little boy is a cock sucker?"
He blanched at that and stumbled back against the door. "I don't think-"
"I thought not," I interrupted him.
Edward rolled his eyes and tilted his head upward, adopting what he would probably refer to as an air of superiority and I would refer to as the classic rich bitch pose. "It's just as well," he said, his voice all sorts of haughty, "I need someone who could keep up with me, not your quaint country bumpkin ass. I bet you can't even name all the chess pieces."
Automatically, I bristled. Why the hell should I care with this prissy little boy thought of me? But the words came out of my mouth before I could remind myself of that fact. "Listen here, sonny. I can school your Ivy League educated ass at chess any day of the week."
He smirked at me, fucking smirked, and I was torn between wanting to hit him and wanting to kiss him. Either one would have wiped that cocky grin off his pretty, pretty face. "First of all, as you keep reminding me, I'm eighteen- hence it isn't possible that I'd be Ivy League educated. Second, it seems I made a baseless assumption then, is that correct?"
"I would say that you did, yes," I said, putting my hands on my hips and adopting a superior look of my own. Little brat...thinking he knew me.
He stepped into my personal bubble space and I had to admit I felt a little ... wilty. Like a g'damned flower as the sun set - just the slightest bit boneless.
And I wanted to kiss him for different reasons.
"Not unlike you assuming that I would run away from this because you have a fucking cock?" he asked mildly.
I blinked at him brilliantly, my mouth already open to deliver a scathingly sarcastic reply when I realized I didn't have one. I went back over our meeting, and our little tryst and the conversation.
He hadn't ever tried to push me away. Sure, he occasionally seemed flustered but weren't all attractions that way at first? Flustering and twitterpating?
My mouth snapped shut, my teeth clanking together audibly in the quiet room. "Well...fuck," I said, showing off my articulation. I rubbed my neck, self conscious and knowing I was blushing. "I feel like a horse's ass," I admitted, looking up at him sheepishly.
His answering grin was gentle, the hard edge of his smirk softening as he reached a hand up to stroke my cheek. "What I was about to say before I was so rudely interrupted was that I don't think that my parents should be a part of my sexual...uh... journey." He wrinkled his nose. "That's creepy."
Then I laughed and put my hands at his waist, pulling him forward for another kiss. A gentle, apologetic kiss because as a guy who liked to fuck other guys, people assumed a lot about me - it was just plain stupid that I'd let my assumptions get the better of me and I knew it.
And when we parted it was me who finally had to break our little bubble. "We gotta get back downstairs before you're missed. I'm surprised someone hasn't come looking for you already."
He grinned lopsidedly. "Benefits of being me - they're used to me wandering away to be on my own for a while. Besides," he continued, his eyes sparking with humor, "This is a high society party. The only ones out there looking for me are the ... what did you call them... debutantes?"
"Not interested, eh?" I asked.
He shook his head with a smile. Then his smile fell into a pensive expression and he looked up at me from under those long eyelashes of his uncertainly. "Do you think..." He sighed, rolling his eyes at himself. "I know you think I'm a kid. And I'm not an idiot about...trysts," he said, nervously running a hand through his hair. "But...I like you. Really. Do you think...I can see you? Later? Not for ... this," he gestured between the two of us. "I mean you."
And I really wasn't expecting that.
And I didn't want to say no, but I didn't want to say yes.
That's when it occurred to me that maybe I was more confused about what I wanted and who I was than I'd accused Edward of being.
Funny, how all it took to really see yourself was chance encounter.
Ain't that about a bitch?
Dedication: To Dannie since this wouldn't have existed if I hadn't thought about it for her birthday bash.
Thank you: to all you people who calmed me down when I was going out of my mind with this fic. You know who you are. I don't know why it freaked me out so badly. I love you.
Thank you especially to Josieswan who betaed this and omg you know how you suddenly SEE a person and you don't know how you didn't before and wow – yeah. Big, puffy hearts.