So, I was overwhelmed with the awards I got for this story!
Judges Overall Choice - 1st Place
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Just... WOW Thank you so much all!
The First Time Contest
Title: Pretty Little Liar
Word Count: 8779
Summary: I stand here today on the precipice, about to take the jump. I will tell you why, I will tell you exactly how I got here. And this time, I will give you the complete and undiluted truth.
Many thanks to my wonderful beta! HARRYTWIFAN! You're awesome!
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
Hey, I bet you wonder how I got here? Yeah, I've been wondering about that myself to be honest. How on earth did I get to this point, about to lose everything I've grown to love in my life? Obviously, you don't really understand the particular predicament I'm in. Would you care to let me explain?
I'm not a good man, never really was, though I plan on changing that tonight. So as I stand here in my bathroom staring at myself in the mirror, I see my own guilt ridden eyes and I disgust myself. It's laughable, really, all that I've had thrown in my lap over the past few years. All things that I didn't deserve, things I shouldn't have wanted, shouldn't have gotten; things I should've tried harder to fight.
Even now I'm wondering if I'm doing the right thing. Maybe I should just keep on walking this earth with my stomach twisted into a knot, feeling horrible. Because he deserves to be happy. After all I took, I should give him this.
But all the words I had left deserted me, and I long to say those three words; the words I've been dying to let out. Three simple words that I've never managed to utter out loud. I've tried, but each and every time my throat would constrict as bile rose up from my chest. I didn't have the right to say them, not like this, not the way it's always been.
And he knows––I can see it in his eyes. When he looks at me when he thinks I don't notice, I will catch the reflection of his eyes in the window or a mirror, and it's written on his face. He knows that there's something not entirely right, that I'm holding back, and it hurts him.
So yes, that's what made me decide to rip out my heart and hand it over to him on a plate. It'll hurt him, I know it will. I would do everything in my power to stop him from getting hurt, I'd go to any length. Believe me when I tell you this. It's just that I can't avoid it. This is a mistake I made years ago, three to be precise. Three years, seven months, four days and roughly 8 hours ago, when I sat down next to him on a bench in Central Park.
"Hey there, mind if I sit down?" I asked him. He tensed for a moment, but glanced up and smiled at me.
So far so good, he didn't know who I was. There was no recognition in his eyes, just the open and kind expression that was so familiar, as I've seen it on his face so many times before. Yet, this expression was new to me at the same time, because never before had I been treated to anything but a scowl.
"Sure, it's a free country," he answered before he ducked back into his book, slightly shifting to create more space.
I grimaced at the careless statement which hit very close to home, before I forced my face back into a curious smile.
"What are you reading?" I asked conversationally, trying to read the title that was half covered by his hand.
He looked back up at me with careful reservation before he closed the book with his finger on the page he was reading.
"Chaucer," he said, while looking me straight in my eyes, like he was searching them for something. I was worried for a moment that he was trying to place a memory, until he continued. "You don't strike me as the poetry type, though. You wouldn't like it."
"That would be where you were wrong," I contradicted, my very first lie, and the first of many I would get away with. "I do enjoy poetry, but I prefer more recent poets, like Auden."
He smiled again and his eyes drifted off to the lake in front of us. "Ah, Auden. 'I and the public know, what all schoolchildren learn, those to whom evil is done, do evil in return.' There's a truth to his words, but I prefer the classics," he stated and turned his gaze back to me, challenging.
Even though it was a memorable quote, one famous through its recent appearance in 'Body of Lies', I took it as a warning. Mine was a foolish plan, and for the first time I wondered if I shouldn't just walk away now. But his hand reaching out pulled me from my musings, and I stared deep into his eyes before I took it.
"Jasper Hale," he said, with another of those bright smiles.
"Riley Biers," I answered, as he lightly shook and squeezed my hand. Lie number two.
Oh, it had been a mistake alright, though I didn't know how big a mistake it was back then. I do now, and I've known for quite some time. It was only the start; the first lies, the first doubts, and there would be many more firsts to come. Eventually, leading up to the biggest first of my life, one that made me keel over in anxious anticipation. Tonight would either give me a new chance at life, or end it.
If I'd just known back then what I know now, I would have done things differently. But I was too blinded by hurt and hate to stop and think, let alone make the right decisions. Pain caused by, and hate directed at, Jasper Thomas Hale. I wanted retribution more than anything, and I would've stopped at nothing to get it.
My hatred burned away at my soul each time his smile comforted me, each time he held me as I offered him half truths or outright lies. I was biding my time, waiting for the right moment at which I could strike.
Each day he trusted me more, and each day I deserved his trust less. It didn't bother me at all, until he told me about me.
We sat on his couch, his feet in my lap. This level of intimacy was new and I had to admit that I liked it. Not him. No, I didn't like him, heaven forbid! But I liked the connection of friendly physical contact, being comfortable without the frantic need for sexual gratification.
I tried to tell myself it didn't matter, that it didn't mean anything. Why couldn't I like it? I was here on my own agenda, no longer imprisoned by rules or youth. I wanted to enjoy myself, and I would derive as much pleasure from my ultimate goal as I possibly could.
I was going to take from him what he took from me all those years ago; the ability to trust and love another human being. I was planting the seeds to what would be his breaking point, and I would take as long as I needed to get there.
"Where are you?" he asked, his tone concerned.
"Hmmm?" I asked. "I'm right here."
"No, you're not," he retorted. "You know, when you're thinking like that you remind me of someone."
My heart started beating wildly in my chest, but the neutral expression I mastered over the years was plastered on my face.
"I do? Who?" I asked, not sounding nearly as curious as I was.
With a deep sigh, he pulled his feet from my lap and pulled them up under his ass as he sat up. "This boy I used to know in middle school––Edward," he said, and my heart almost came to a full stop.
I covered it up by chuckling and cocked an eyebrow. "I look like a child when I think?"
He shook his head and smiled in return. "No, it's your eyes. They have the same color as his did when you're deep in thought."
This surprised me. "You remember the eyecolor of a boy you knew in middle school?" I asked.
"Well, yes," he said. "His eyes still haunt me in my dreams sometimes. It's weird, he used to bully me and I hated him, but something happened and everything changed."
I had to work hard to not sneer sarcastically. Something happened. Talk about the understatement of the century.
"I wonder about him sometimes," he continued. "Actually, I think about him a lot, you know? Asking myself how he is, what happened to him?"
He looked into my eyes, his expression unreadable. "I guess you don't know," he whispered and shivered.
"What happened?" I asked, knowing full well what had happened. It was normal to ask though, as someone who wasn't aware of Jasper's past. And Riley Biers wasn't aware of Jasper's past; he was hearing the story for the first time.
"Well it really didn't have anything to do with him, but I think he got the worst of it. His dad got sent to prison and his mother committed suicide. He was taken away by social services, never to be heard from again," he said, looking over my shoulder, his eyes a million miles away.
"Why did the man get sent to prison?" I asked carefully. I wanted him to say it. I wanted him to admit what he did, but I couldn't push him.
I almost let out a huff when a gleam of pain flickered through his eyes. He had no right to feel pain, not yet. He might feel guilty and it might be eating at him, but that wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
His eyes met mine again and he tentatively reached out and took my hand in his. "I'll tell you, but not tonight," he said, and I sagged back against the couch disappointed.
That was only the first time Edward was mentioned. As first trust turned into first kisses and first touches, Riley Biers learned more about Edward Anthony Masen through Jasper's eyes.
The curtain of lies, hanging over us like a bright sunny cloud, a means to a glorious end, got darker in the months when I got to know him more and more. I was starting to have trouble seeing him as the man who destroyed my life. The first clue that my plans were going astray, was the genuine smile on my face when he called me to tell me he was thinking about me. It didn't hit me until long after the conversation ended, but I managed to explain it away.
My plan was succeeding if he was thinking about me and called me to let me know. That was why I had been smiling, the only logical reason. I didn't realize that it was the first lie I ever told myself.
The second clue was the first time he spent the night at my apartment.
His hand caressing the nape of my neck felt good and I leaned into his touch. I was laying on my stomach on the couch, my head on his thighs after a long day at work. My right arm was around his waist, and my left hanging limply off the side.
"Rye?" he asked as I slowly drifted off. "Rye? You're tired, I should go home."
I tangled my hand in the fabric of his shirt and held on. "No," I said. I really didn't want him to go anywhere, unable to explain why.
"Rye, it's late, I really should be going." His voice was more tense, and if I was not mistaken, his body was more rigid than a second ago.
"No, I don't want you to go," I said, sliding both my arms around his waist and holding him in a firm grip.
He started trembling and his hands curled up in fists. I didn't understand. Was he angry? I got up and straddled his thighs, holding his face between my hands and staring into his eyes.
"Jay, what's wrong?" I asked. The emotion in his eyes shocked my very core. Fear. Pure, undiluted and unconcealed fear.
I ran my hands down his shoulders and arms, curling my fingers loosely around his wrists. His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat, his face turning pale in an instant.
I really didn't understand what was happening, but I understood that whatever I was doing was making it worse. I got up again and slowly sat down on the other end of the couch, watching him pull up his legs and hugging them close to his chest.
"Jay? Please talk to me," I pleaded. Plan be damned, I couldn't bear seeing him like this.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to freak out like that, I-."
He turned his head and the look in his eyes frightened me. Tears threatened to spill over as his hesitation turned into defiance. Two dark blue pupils glared up at me; their intensity had me frozen in my seat.
"You can still run, Rye," he said, his voice cold, detached. "I'm not right, broken. I don't know if I can ever be fixed, so I'm giving you an out. I'm giving you the chance to walk away and never look back."
My throat closed up and I tried to swallow, my mouth dry as a desert. "I'm not going anywhere," I choked, and I meant it. Again, I didn't know how to explain it, but I didn't want to go anywhere.
We sat there, saying with our eyes what we weren't saying with our voices. That yes, he wanted me to stick around. And yes, I would. Then slowly, shaking and with a timid smile, he reached out his hand and lay it on my knee.
"Will you stay?" I asked, hoping for all I was worth that the trust, the undeserved faith, he had in me was enough.
He started to pull back his hand, but I took it in mine and brushed my thumb over his soft skin. "I don't want to push you, or hurt you. I'm asking you to spend the night. Sleeping, nothing more," I said softly and he relaxed.
Without breaking eye contact, he took a deep shuddering breath before he slightly nodded. "If you'll hold me," he said, barely audible.
Three things happened. One, a pressing weight lifted off my chest, making me feel lighter than I had before. Two, the hate in my cold heart gave way to an indescribable surge of warmth. And three, I was happy for the very first time.
Remembering that feeling gave me a sense of longing. It hadn't lasted, not even the night. I'd been wide awake while he slept in my arms, thinking, worrying and cursing my weak and selfish heart.
I understood that I had been wrong all my life, hating the wrong person. Hating the boy that was the real victim in this entire mess. I couldn't break him, because my father already broke him years ago. My hate didn't go away, it shifted.
I got a new beginning that morning and slowly, we both started to heal.
I should've taken his 'out' and walked away. Not because he was broken, but because whichever way you looked at it, I would let him down.
But then again, I'm not a good man. I stuck around, holding him, letting him hold me. I used him as an ointment on my throbbing wounds without considering what it would do to him. I was a selfish bastard. I still am.
The web of lies tightened around me, making me unable to be anyone other than Riley Biers, the loving and caring boyfriend. I played my part well. So well in fact, that seven months after the night I changed, he took my wrist and guided me to his bed.
"Jay?" I asked him, searching his eyes for any signs of hesitation. I didn't find any. His lips were slightly parted, swollen from our kisses, and his eyes were dark with desire.
"I want you, Riley," he said huskily, while taking off his shirt. "More than anything else, I want you."
I felt lonely in that moment, when he used my full name and didn't say Rye. Because it wasn't my full name. How I longed for him to look at me like that and hear him call me Edward. How I longed to tell him all I felt for him without feeling like a deceiving jerk.
I tried to shut up my guilty conscience with a kiss, and he pulled me down to the bed with him. I moaned when I landed on top of him, his erection pressing against my thigh. I willed myself to get hard, to lose myself in him as he was losing himself in me... but nothing.
I couldn't shake the feeling that he trusted me to take this step with him, to go further. It wasn't as though we never did anything before. This, sex, had been a long time coming. We'd been building up from making out to making out naked. I'd pleasured him on numerous occasions as he did me, but we never went here before.
It made me sick to my stomach that I would take what he was so willingly trying to give me. That I was here with him, holding him, making him writhe in lust, while I knew his first and only had been my own father.
He didn't tell me, and he didn't know I knew. I used to think he was lying, that he made it all up. My father wouldn't do such a thing––it couldn't be true. I sat by idly as they took him away and threw him in prison, hating the boy who did this to us. I watched as my mother sank down into an endless pit of depression before she killed herself. I didn't fight when they took me from my home and sent me off to live with my foster parents.
I didn't cry the first time my foster father kicked me, or when my foster mother bathed the sins off my body with burning hot water. I bided my time, biting down on my hatred, holding on to it to survive. I lived to see Jasper in pain.
Not once had I considered the possibility that he was telling the truth, until the night I saw the fear in his eyes.
I wanted to take away the fear. To mend the wounds my own blood afflicted. To give him back what my father had taken from him. Yes, I used to live to see him in pain, but now I couldn't give up until I saw him happy.
I kissed his collar bone, lightly sucking on the skin. He ran his hand through my hair, grabbing onto the ends when I lowered my attention and grazed his nipple with my teeth.
If the guilt would tear me apart, I'd let it, for I had no intention of ever letting Jasper down.
I kissed as much of his body as I could reach, letting him feel what I felt for him. He moaned and arched his body up against my lips. With careful movements, I ran my hands over his soft skin until I reached the hem of his jeans. He met my eyes with his, and with a curt nod, he let me know it was okay, that he was okay.
I popped the button and undid his zipper, peppering the happy trail on his stomach with light kisses. I wasn't fast enough for him, the eager little fucker. He tugged his own jeans down and kicked them off while I chuckled, but his throaty groan as I ran my fingers down his cotton covered cock shut me up.
He was beautiful, with his eyes half closed and a flustered blush on his cheeks, and something stirred in my groin. I got up from the bed and shed my own clothing quickly before I stretched myself next to him, taking his lips with my own.
"Rye, please," he moaned into my mouth, but I wouldn't let him rush me.
"Shhhh," I voiced. "Let me make this good for you, Jasper."
He let out a frustrated cry. "I'm not a fucking virgin, Rye! Just do it!" he said angrily and bit his bottom lip.
I tensed immediately. I'd managed to forget for a second, but his words threw me back to the harsh reality of our situation. My fragile state of arousal shattered.
"No, Jay," I told him. "I won't just do it! I don't want a quick fuck! I want this to mean something for us, the both of us!"
"I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm just nervous and I want to get this over with."
"You want to get this over with?" I asked incredulously. "Want to get what over with? Sex?"
He didn't answer me and I tugged at my hair. "Jasper, babe, this is something fun, something that's supposed to feel good. This is supposed to be something you want to do, not something you endure while grinding your teeth."
He stared up at me shyly and threw me a hesitant smile. "That came out wrong," he said and curled up against me, his head in the crook of my arm. "I really want this and I want it with you, but I'm scared."
"What are you scared of, baby?" I asked him, trying to fully understand.
"I'm scared that I'll hate it, scared that I'll love it," he explained. "I'm out of my mind frightened of this urge to throw myself at you, knowing that I cannot control it."
I didn't get it. How could he be scared that he would enjoy having sex? I was out of my league with him, out of control. I simply didn't know how to make this work without answers.
"Jay, why are you scared that you'll love having sex?" I asked him softly as I wrapped my arm around his waist.
"Because it'll be like before," he said. "I cannot control my body from betraying me. I'm perverted, okay? I told you I was wrong, broken, but you have no idea how wrong I actually am. I'm a freak, Rye, and you'll find out. I don't want you to find out!"
I couldn't see them, but I could feel his tears spilling on my chest. I hugged him closer and eased his blond hair down again and again.
"You're not a freak, baby. And you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'm not going anywhere. There's nothing you can say that'll make me think you're wrong. You're so right in every way. You're perfect, Jasper," I said soothingly, and realized I meant every word.
Riley Biers and Edward Masen were merging, slowly but undeniably. I don't know if I changed into the role I played, or the role changed to accommodate my growing feelings, but the lines were fading. We didn't make love that night, nor did he tell me what he meant; we just lay there until morning. We weren't ready, and I had a feeling there was more to the story of what happened than what I already knew.
Three more months passed while I showed him what he meant to me. I didn't use words, ever, but I knew he understood.
Then one night he invited me over for dinner and sat me down with a grave look on his face. He told me about my father, how he had abused him for almost three years before he told someone. He told me how ashamed he felt, that though he didn't want it and knew it was wrong, his body had betrayed him. How it had responded, making him feel like a freak.
I knew he had expected me to walk away, but I didn't, I stuck around. Yes, his revelation had been hard to comprehend, but he wasn't a freak. If not for the obvious problems he still had with what happened to him, he was completely normal. I read up on abuse and it quickly became abundantly clear that it wasn't uncommon for victims to 'like' the sensations of what was happening to them, that it doesn't always hurt physically. I understood how Jasper might be frightened of experiencing the same kind of pleasure.
We started from scratch; kissing, touching, exploring, but this time he didn't feel like it was required. He allowed me to teach him what it should be like, while I learned it could be so much more than it had been for me before.
Sex had always been about the gratification, the simple act of getting off. I had never made love to a man before as I had never been in love, and I was completely and deeply in love with Jasper. With him a hand-job was so much more satisfying than the hottest sex I ever had.
At the same time, the urge to tell him I loved him grew more acute, more consuming. However, every time I opened my mouth to say the actual words, my throat would constrict and turn dry.
We spent as much time together as we possibly could, with his job teaching during the day and my irregular shifts at a local bar. I'd often come home around five in the morning to find him sleeping in my bed. I'd given him a key after I ran late a couple of evenings, so that he could wait for me inside, but he'd obviously taken it as an open invitation to my place at any time.
I didn't mind, and to be completely honest, I wanted him in my bed as much as he wanted to be there. To wake up in the morning and see the most amazing set of blue eyes watching me from underneath those long lashes.
It had been a particularly daunting evening when I got home one night and he sleepily opened his eyes. I hadn't seen him for almost the entire week, as he was accompanying his students on a school trip.
His smile warmed my heart as he sat up a little, leaning back on his elbows. "Hey," he said, his voice hoarsely drawing.
"Hey yourself," I replied. "Back again, I see." I was smirking at the guilty look on his face.
"Do you mind?" he asked me. "I missed you."
I leaned over him to kiss his dry lips and ran my tongue over them. "I don't mind at all," I told him, "and I missed you, too."
He smiled lazily, and I straightened up and pulled my longsleeve shirt over my head. Before I was well and truly freed of the offending item, I felt his hands ghosting my abdomen, tracing down. I threw my shirt to the side and grabbed his hands as they trailed dangerously close to my wakening cock.
"Sorry, babe," I said with real regret. "I desperately need a shower. I stink."
He leaned forward and nuzzled my navel, inhaling deeply. "You smell amazing," he moaned, and gave the soft hair on my stomach a wet lick. I closed my eyes for a second, allowing myself to just feel, but all too soon I reluctantly pulled away.
"I stink, Jasper. I've got all kinds of alcohol stinking up my skin and I sweated like a pig tonight," I said and quickly kissed the top of his head.
His answering pout was adorable, especially since his blond hair was all over the place and his eyes were slightly gazed from having just woken. He leaned back against the headboard of my bed, pulling the sheets up a little to cover most of his toned chest. "Hurry up?" he said, making it sound more like a question than a command.
I winked at him and made my way to the bathroom quickly. Without hesitation, I kicked off my shoes and got rid of my jeans, briefs and socks after turning on the faucet to let the water run. I threw my clothes in the laundry basket, got my shampoo from under the sink, and stepped into the glass cubicle.
As the water ran down my body, I closed my eyes and shivered slightly. Water had never been my friend, and the almost cold temperature had me quickly doing whatever needed to be done in the shower.
The cubicle door opened and I almost jumped. Jasper came in and slid his arm around my waist, but immediately backed up against the side. "Jesus!" he cried out and reached for the tap. He turned the temperature up to 100°F and I went completely rigid.
My entire body coiled when the hot water hit my skin. There was nothing I could do, trapped in my own panic, and I felt the air leave my lungs as if hit by a cannonball. Memories flashed before my eyes and I could feel the past pain of boiling water burning my flesh. I heard a strangled cry and realized it was me.
I didn't even notice slipping, but I found myself curled up on the floor of the shower when Jasper turned off the waterflow and crouched down beside me.
"Rye!" he yelled, roughly shaking me. "Riley!"
He sounded worried and confused, though I didn't have the strength to respond. He picked me up and carried me to the toilet, where he sat me down before wrapping a large towel around me. I was shaking heavily, no control left over my body. Before I could move, I retched and emptied my stomach over the floor.
Jasper rubbed my back and waited until I was done. When I was, he picked me up again and I let him carry me to the bed. He pulled back the covers and lay me down, wet and naked, covering me up in the sheets before he kissed my forehead.
He went to the bathroom, and it felt like an hour had passed before I felt the mattress dip and his warmth pressed up against my back. I was still shaking, but I was calmer now that he was close to me again. His hand rubbing my shoulder grounded me, and I slowly came back to myself.
"What happened there, Riley?" he asked softly.
I breathed in deeply and let the air out in a hissed sigh. "You're not the only one broken," I replied as I placed my hand on top of his. He nuzzled my neck and kissed my shoulder.
"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked hesitantly and I turned to face him, feeling as though a lump was stuck in my throat when I swallowed hard.
I told him everything––well, almost everything. I didn't tell him how I came to live with Mr and Mrs Biers, or how I had coped with the pain and suffering. I didn't tell him anything about Edward Masen.
It had felt good, though, to show him that part of me. Still, I felt like I was lying through my teeth. I didn't deserve his caring touches, or his understanding looks. I didn't deserve his sympathy, nor his love. I was a rotten bastard and he had every reason to hate me, despise me.
Once again, the guilt took me over and that night I cried for the first time in years. Of course, he thought I cried about my part, about the pain and hurt. Instead, I cried selfish tears, because I could never fully have what I wanted most. For Jasper to love Edward.
As if I wasn't despicable enough already, I let him care for me, help me deal with what happened to me at the hands of my foster parents, my protectors. I let him show me I was no longer trapped, I no longer needed to be afraid. And I let him in. I retracted the shield of lies to only barely cover my heart with a thin, see-through layer. The lies had their hooks so deep in our fragile relationship, and I had no idea how to unravel them.
I tried to only see what I wanted to see. His happiness in my arms, his smiles, his ever present good nature and love. Ever since I told him I wasn't leaving, he transformed into the ever-smiling optimist. He was the light of my life, the only one that got to see the real smile behind the mask I clung to so desperately.
I know I told you this before, but I'm most certainly not a good man. I took another huge first from him, one that was so incredibly good and so irrefutably vile at the same time.
"Rye," he moaned, while I gently massaged the knots out of his shoulders. He'd been hunched over his desk all day, marking exams. If I hadn't brought him a regular cup of tea and forced him on short breaks, he wouldn't have moved at all.
"Feels so good," he said almost incoherently.
"You like that, baby?" I teased, feeling him sink back further against my chest. I loved sitting here behind him on the couch, my legs on either side of his thighs.
"Hmmm," he replied, his hands reaching out to slowly rub his thumbs over the spot just above my knees.
I slapped one of his hands. "Stop that!" I commanded. "That tickles!" When he pulled back his teasing fingers, I started rubbing his muscles again. I should've known he wasn't put off that easily. Within a minute, his hands returned to my legs, caressing me through the harsh denim.
"Jay," I warned him, but he didn't stop. I pulled back my own hands and chuckled as he whimpered at the loss.
I leaned back and folded my arms behind my head. I had to grind my teeth to not squirm under his touch, my legs ready to flex involuntarily. Fortunately for me, he gave up before I had to and turned around. Like a tiger, he crawled up my body with a dark look in his eyes.
"I'm fairly certain I can make you squirm, Riley," he said with an evil smirk on his lips. His eyes were shimmering with mirth. Oh, no! Hell, no! I wasn't giving in, or backing down. If he wanted a feat of endurance, I'd give him one, and I'd give him a run for his money for sure!
He jumped me at the same moment I grabbed his hips and flipped him on his back. The result was a hard hit of his knee against my nose, but I ignored the pain. I started to tickle his sides instead, and grinned viciously when he pleaded me to stop. I didn't stop, though; he was the one who challenged me.
But then, within a second everything changed. My thigh brushed his erection and he moaned, a sound that instantly went to my own groin and I could feel myself harden. He looked up at me and breathed heavily. All I could do as his eyes lured me in, was reach down and brush my lips over his.
He caught my chaste kiss and pressed his mouth hungrily against mine, biting my bottom lip and running his tongue over the abused spot. I answered his silent plea, as if I could resist it, and opened my mouth to meet his tongue with mine.
He tugged at my shirt and I ran my hand up along his thigh roughly, like the touch wasn't enough, like I couldn't get close enough. And that was the utter truth of it, because I couldn't get close enough. I was craving, blind in my need to take that next step. I wanted to claim him for my own.
Jasper was thinking along the same lines, because he pushed me off him a little and looked straight into my eyes and watched my reaction to his words closely. "Riley, I want you," he said huskily. "I need you, I want-"
He didn't tell me what he wanted, but showed me by pressing his mouth back against mine with a growl and grinding his hips up against my groin.
"Not here," I whispered against his lips and I felt him nod.
We quickly made our way to the bedroom and stripped to our briefs. My heart was beating wildly in my chest from nerves and anxiety. What if it went wrong? What if I hurt Jasper? What if I let him down? The lustful haze that was clouding my mind slowly lifted and I could feel myself getting soft.
Jasper slid his arms across my stomach from behind and bit my shoulder blade. Fuck! I wanted him more than anything, but with the opportunity in plain sight, my mind and body played a cruel trick on me.
'It would work,' I thought. I was going to turn around, forget about my fears, and kiss my man until my cock was once more interested. I would show him exactly what making love was all about, even though I didn't have the faintest clue. I just had to take it slow with him, slower than I ever had.
I spun around in his arms and backed him up against the bed, where he let himself fall on top of the soft comforter. Without hesitation, I crawled over him, letting my mouth slowly and torturously find it's way from his knees to his chest; nipping, sucking, kissing.
It turned him into a whimpering, wanton God, his face flushed when I finally reached his soft lips and claimed his mouth. With him shivering in pleasure underneath me, I reached out and got a bottle of lube and a condom from my nightstand and slid his briefs down his legs.
His cock was leaking in anticipation, and I couldn't stop myself from licking the bead of pre-cum from the swollen head. Jasper gasped and fisted the comforter tightly. Softly blowing the wet flesh, I popped the cap on the bottle and coated my fingers with lube. He was perfectly relaxed and enjoying the attention I gave his body, until I slid my slick fingers between his cheeks.
He tensed and I kissed his hipbone. "Shh, baby," I soothed him. "I won't hurt you, trust me, Jasper."
I couldn't stop sneering at my own words. Trust me. Fucking rich!
It didn't help my still mostly flaccid cock get to the state it needed to be in to see this through. I knew it was the guilt and the worry that were hindering an erection, but fuck it! I never had trouble performing before.
I was slowly rubbing Jasper's entrance without much pressure, trying to make him feel comfortable, but it wasn't working. We were back where we were months ago; willing, but not ready in the least, not for this. We weren't ready for me to bury myself deep within the man I loved.
Then it hit me, and it hit me hard! There was another way to do this, another way to make love. Most likely that way would be much more comfortable and way less stressful for Jasper and it would definitely solve my little penile problem. But fuck! I had never, ever bottomed before. I never had any interest in it and I always assumed that topping gave me the control I so desperately needed.
I pushed away the anxiety I felt about giving up that control, because if anything, I didn't need it with him. He might not have any reason to put his trust in me, but I would trust him with my life.
Without giving it another doubtful thought, I rubbed my fingers against the comforter and lay down against Jasper's side, taking off my own briefs quickly. He cocked his eyebrow at me and opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't let him. Instead, I kissed him roughly and dribbled some new lube on my fingers.
I reached behind me and pressed a finger against my own hole, carefully pushing it in. I wasn't sure Jasper knew what I was doing, but as long as it didn't feel like I was ripping myself apart, this was how it was going to be.
As I kissed him and let his hands roam my chest and abs, I prepared myself as fast as I could. When it wasn't really painful, just slightly uncomfortable, I leaned away from his kiss and straddled his thighs. With a few lazy tugs at his cock, I made sure he was well and ready before I ripped open the tiny package and rolled the condom down his length.
He gasped and widened his eyes for a second, but then he smiled hesitantly and nodded. His face was soft, his eyes loving and thankful, and I knew I made the right decision.
I raised a leg, with my foot against his waist, and lead his dick to my entrance, slowly pushing down. The sting was back and I had to bite my lip to not show Jasper it was uncomfortable. It was give and try to be honest, pushing down, letting back up, slowly letting myself adjust to his girth.
Once he was fully sheathed in me, I took a moment to catch my breath, the breath I had been holding almost the entire time.
"Okay, baby?" he asked me, the concern evident in his voice. He ran both hands up my stomach to my chest and softly pinched a nipple.
I opened my tightly shut eyes and took in his expression. He was beautiful; his cheeks still flushed and his features laced with awe and pleasure. He loved it. I could see how good he felt being inside me and I smiled. No, I grinned, because his happiness made me feel amazing.
The slight sting didn't bother me anymore. I could feel his entire hardness fill me to what must surely be the maximum capacity, and I was overwhelmed with the intimacy of our connection.
I leaned forward and kissed his throat, his jaw, and finally his mouth. Then slowly and carefully did I lift my hips and slowly press back down. It sent a shiver down my spine and with more confidence, I raised myself again and pressed down with more force.
My eyes never left his as I rode his cock faster and faster. He held onto my arms like his life depended on it, trying to keep himself from moving with me. But I didn't want him to hold back, I didn't want him to be careful. I wanted us to lose ourselves in each other.
I sat back up slightly and forced him to let go of my arms by leaning back a little, grabbing his thighs behind me to steady myself. And holy fucking christ! The feeling of his cock hitting my prostate as my ass forcefully collided with his skin with a sweat slicked sound, had me crying out his name.
Again and again, over and over I slid back down, until I was panting and moaning, not caring if the neighbors across the street would hear me. Jasper grabbed my hips and started thrusting back up against me.
I was definitely not the only one making noises like I was being tortured in the very best way. His groans and cries just added to the heat rising in my groin. My cock was hard as rock, standing proudly, though desperate for attention.
I curled my fingers around myself and started to move my hand up and down in time with Jasper's thrusts. Fuck, yes!
His movements were getting more frantic and out of control, his words incoherent, but I loved the sound of his voice so filled with lust. At one point, I could have even sworn he was panting my name, and not 'Riley'. No, I was sure I heard him say 'Edward' and it would've freaked me out if I wasn't so convinced it was my own imagination––my own will to have him cry out my real name in ecstasy.
"Oh, fuck!" he cried out, as his head lifted from the bed and the muscles in his neck strained.
"Fuck, I'm- Oh, fuck! Yes!" he cried again and I could feel him letting go.
I leaned forward and crashed my mouth to his, smothering my own voice against his lush lips as I cried out my own release.
I lifted myself up once the haze cleared a bit, resting heavily on my arms on either side of his head. Panting, our mouths inches from each other's, I looked him in the eyes. They were warm, inviting, and it took me minutes to be able to pull my gaze from them.
"That was-," I started, but there were no words to describe what just happened. No words to describe the feeling of being complete that washed over me.
He understood, because all he said was; "I know." before he kissed my cheekbone, slid his arms around my body and pulled me down against him.
It was the best night of my life, and truthfully, it only got better. Not just the sex, mind you, though that was amazing. It didn't take him long to ask me to top him, and it had just been mind shattering. We both loved it either way and as often as possible. It was perfect, but not what I was referring to.
We moved together through our lives, like a well synchronized pair of dancers. My days revolved around him, even when we weren't together. I changed in so many ways and opened up, not just to him, but to everybody. I started to have conversations with colleagues and customers, while in the past I tried to stick to just doing my job. Some of them even started calling me their friend.
My step was so much lighter and so was my heart, but in the background, hiding the brightest sparks of the sun, was that ever present rain cloud. The one thing that held me back.
You know, he told me he loved me for the first time soon after the night we had sex. I wanted to return the sentiment so badly, so desperately, but again I seized up. With my eyes snapped shut and a strangled breath, I replied. "And I you."
I would beat around the bush every time, never once saying those three words. Never once looking him in his eyes and with full conviction, voicing my feelings. They were on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill, but never leaving my lips.
I love you, Jasper. God, I love you so fucking much! I love you to the moon and beyond! I love you to the ends of the universe! I love you so much my heart would shatter if you ever stopped loving me! I LOVE YOU!
My thoughts are loud as I once again stare into the mirror and open my mouth.
I can't, not even when I'm alone in the fucking bathroom. Not even where he couldn't hear me if he tried. I couldn't, because I had no right to love him the way I did.
I close my eyes and catch my tongue between my teeth and bottom lip, shaking my head in disappointment. I am disappointed, at myself. Running my fingers through my hair, I tug hard at the ends, the welcoming pain only a fraction of what I deserve.
Jasper has been talking about the future, moving in together, getting married, starting a family. There's nothing in this world I would want more than to share that dream with him. But that's all it is –– a dream. There's no way on earth I could give him that, not without being truthful about who I am.
My name isn't Riley Biers, it never has been. I can get away with it, working at a bar, getting paid under the table. I rent my apartment by the week, and my landlord never once asked to see my identification. I don't exist. I disappeared three years ago, the day my father died, the day I decided to get my revenge on Jasper.
I'm nobody, nothing, no one.
I slam my fist down hard on the sink and hiss away the surge of pain shooting through my hand.
This is the moment I've been dreading, the moment of truth. The first time in my life that I will be completely honest with the love of my life, and I can only hope he will not hate me.
I turn to the door and close my eyes, shooting up a prayer to whomever will listen. God? My mother? I'm not sure. I just hope that whatever is out there will give me the strength to see this through.
With a shaking hand, I open the door and make my way back to Jasper's living room, where he's quietly sitting in his favorite chair, reading a student's essay.
I stand frozen in the doorway, watching him sitting there, content and within my reach. I torture myself with the knowledge that within a few minutes I will probably lose everything I ever cared about.
I'm not a good man, but I hope, deep in my heart, that he'll think I'm good enough for him.
He raises his head to face me and smiles, but his smile stills on his face when he sees my grave expression.
"What is it, baby?" he asks, laying the essay aside and getting up from his chair.
I hold up my hand, knowing that if he touches me, I will give up and continue to hide behind Riley.
"Jasper," I say and hold on to the door frame for dear life.
Another deep breath and a shift of my feet. I look him straight in the eyes and open my mouth.
"I've been lying to you, Jasper, and I need to tell you the truth."
He takes another step toward me, but I take a step back and avert my eyes. He's worried, I can feel it in the air as the tension builds.
"Please," I say as I look back at him. "Let me say this." He nods, his eyes hopeful. A hope I can't place, nor understand.
"My name isn't Riley Biers," I almost whisper. "It's Edward, Edward Anthony Masen."
I close my eyes and brace myself for the outburst of anger and betrayal, but it doesn't come. I wait, and wait, and wait, but nothing happens.
My eyes shoot open again when his hand softly cups my face and I see his warm and loving smile. There are tears in his eyes, but there's no hurt, no anger, just love.
"Thank you," he whispers and kisses the side of my mouth. "Thank you for trusting me."
With that, his lips really meet mine and he kisses me with a confidence I have never before seen in him. And realization hits me square in the face: He knew. He knew who I was. I don't know for how long, nor how he ever found out, but I don't care. He knew and stayed with me, loving me and waiting for me to tell him.
My knees give out at the same time a sob escapes my throat. He sags down with me to the floor and wraps his strong arms around me.
"I love you," I cry. "I love you, I love you, I love you!"
He runs his hand through my hair and rocks me as tears pour from my eyes. "I love you, I love you so fucking much, Jasper. I'm sorry, baby! I love you, I love you, I love you!"
He holds me tight against his body and whispers; "I know, baby, I know."
And as I slowly calm down in his tight embrace, knowing that this moment is the start of the rest of my life, of our life, I take a breath.
I take my first real unburdened breath in twenty-one years.