Disclaimer: The original characters belong to Stephenie Meyer
Thanks to: Lou (loopylou992) and Sally (Alice's White Rabbit) for helping me polish this, and again to Lou for making my lovely banner!
Warning: The story contains descriptions of light bondage and suspension, pain play, and Master/slave behavior. If you're opposed to this type of relationship, please don't read.
"This ends when Bella gives birth to her … to our offspring, are we clear?"
Simple as it was, the gravity of their arrangement was still huge. Jasper had offered to help by providing entertainment and distraction in these desperate times; considering the younger vampire's newfound desires, Jasper would become Edward's sex slave for the days to come. What's more, he braced himself for the upcoming floods of Edward's frustration and utter despair, which, lately, easily morphed into unrestrained cruelty. Even worse, Edward would still be able to read his mind, all the time. So, yes, it was huge.
Jasper stared out through the window. There was nothing interesting outside. Nothing really important. All that mattered was in here—inside the house of the Cullens, within their little, seemingly permanent gathering of immortals. More importantly, as of today, the only thing that mattered was happening inside Edward's twisted, suffering mind. With the twisted side of that mind, Jasper could cope. With the suffering one, not so much.
Being an empath for one and a half centuries, Jasper had been subjected to any and all types of suffering mind material. Edward's was beyond belief. The man's emotions were as fucked up as Hell, his soul torn to miniscule, burning pieces. His inner turmoil reeled from frenzy to fury within moments, only to be replaced by apathy and denial. It was obvious the chance to put that soul back into one whole again, was slender. But Jasper cared deeply for his so-called family, and for his so-called home; it was where he finally felt at peace after so many years of his own torment. He had sworn to all existent and non-existent deities he would protect the Cullens from all forms of evil—to the furthest extent of his powers. Handling Edward's situation would cost him literally nothing, or so it seemed. He was an experienced and indestructible vampire, after all.
"Deal," he answered briefly. Bella's belly was huge already, anyway. It wouldn't take too much longer for her to give birth.
Edward's pent up frustration was hitting Jasper in huge, powerful waves.
"Are you sure, Jasper?" Edward's stuttered words sounded more like a plea than a simple question.
"I'm sure," Jasper answered in a calm voice, deciding to project some of the calm in Edward's direction, too. "There's nothing really awful you could do to me."
"Maybe I'll be able to surprise you, though." Now almost excited, Edward approached him. A slim, hesitant finger touched his wrist, right under the black leather bracelet, with unexpected kindness. "You'd better think of a safe word then."
Oh, the irony. "Coffins and dungeons and moats?" Bella had asked once when she visited the house for the first time. Jasper and Alice, and Emmett and Rosalie had laughed, hard, back then when Edward had told them about Bella's naïve, but intuitive, question. Of course, he had to mislead her with his vague answer. Who tells their fragile human girlfriend there's actually a fully functioning dungeon right under her feet? One could only hope that one day …
While Carlisle and Esme closed their eyes and played deaf to the noises that echoed in the house at night, the others made good use of the dungeon—surely, any age-old, sleepless person needs something to do at night, to add color to their desaturated by boredom love-life, to search for a little spiciness in the repetitive, sterile ministration of fucking the same vampire for decades.
Not Edward, though. He had never used the dungeon. He had only heard the noises: the screams, the moans, the laughter. Our overstimulated martyr, they called him because he could even hear the absolute silent ecstasy of the gagged, the outburst of delight behind the latex mask … he knew what each of them went through during role-play but had never experienced any of it.
Truth be told, he had never fucked a vampire and had never been fucked by one.
Edward was indeed a novice in the field of vampire kink, but, by circumstance, an educated one. He had heard enough of thoughts and conversations to be well aware of the fact that the Master and slave arrangement required dominant behavior on his part, the proverbial iron fist in a velvet glove conduct. He knew he could do it. He knew he needed to do it in hopes he could make the burden of insecurity on his shoulders evaporate.
Jasper sensed the swell of confidence inside Edward's core. He was pleased to know the arrangement was already working.
They agreed on colors instead of safe-wording.
It took Edward several seconds to restrain Jasper's wrists in the tight ropes which someone had graciously left hanging from the ceiling. Jasper's beautiful naked body resembled an uptight string, an instrument to be played. Edward had already begun to hear the humming of pleasure inside his head—his own pleasure combined with Jasper's—and he knew what he was going to deliver would render this quiet humming into a magnificent symphony: the consonance of agony and bliss.
Jasper's chin was proudly raised, his eyes opened wide in a challenging stare. The mind-reader heard his flashing thought distinctly. Enjoying the view? Now what, Edward? The little demonstration of typical Texan audacity was enough to spark an outburst of annoyance on Edward's part. He approached and grabbed a fistful of blond curls, pulling with force that neared brutality. Jasper's chin was now pointed toward the ceiling, and Edward's lips touched his right ear. "It's Maestro to you. You can forget my given name for a while. I am the performer, and you're my harp." Although whispered, the words made the suspended vampire jump. The spark of mischievousness disappeared from his eyes. It was replaced by sheer terror when Edward's palm squeezed his balls.
"Don't worry, I won't break any important parts of you. Just don't act stupid." Jasper could sense Edward was not hostile just a little irritated. But the unease didn't leave him while Edward kept on talking. "Wait a minute—" the palm abandoned his vulnerable, intimate parts and stuck to his bare chest "—you're thirsty."
Jasper knew his dark eyes gave away that he hadn't eaten in the last few days. He could only nod and confirm, but he couldn't figure out why that was important.
"Since when do you care about my feeding habits?" he spoke out. His voice trembled.
Edward hesitated for a moment. He hadn't given much thought to anyone in the family lately. Were they all famished now that they were all occupied with his wife's well-being? Was he causing them so much trouble and discomfort with his wrong life-choices?
That was not the moment to show weakness, though.
"No. I need you to have some blood in your system so my marks have color. I need a visual of what I'm doing to you, my slave."
Edward disappeared through the door and came back a moment later with an opaque nylon pouch in his hand.
"Here, I've brought some of the donor blood. Carlisle has tons of it for Bella."
Jasper swallowed dry.
"You will drink it, slave." Edward moved closer and shook the unopened pouch under the restrained vampire's nose.
That was the moment Jasper realized Edward was taking this too seriously. It was no game.
"But, Edward—" he started.
"It's Maestro!" Edward hissed.
Silence followed. The suspended hands formed two tight fists. There was blood. There was human blood in the room. Severe thirst rose in Jasper's chest, grabbed at his throat, and demolished any existing barrier. Jasper couldn't form coherent thoughts any more, and only four syllables played inside his mind in a loop.
Please, Maestro.
Please, Maestro.
His head bowed toward the pouch of its own accord. His body pulled against the restraints.
The frenzy began.
Still unopened, the pouch was removed. Jasper felt his body jerk uncontrollably, venom filled his mouth, and he knew his irises had become pitch black.
"Ah, you want it." Edward was obviously pleased. "But you've got to earn it." He retreated to the sideboard on the south wall. Doors opened and closed, clicking of metal and glass could be heard. It seemed Edward was stocking a lot of items on a serving trolley, which he moved along. He was going to use many things on Jasper it seemed, so many that his two hands couldn't carry them all. He returned to Jasper, pushing the trolley, and announced, "Dinner is served." A half-smirk formed on his lips.
He tore the pouch open with his teeth and poured the contents into a mug. Then he dipped a plastic straw in it. Mug in hand, he offered Jasper another smell, and a moment later, a small, precious gulp through the straw. It was too soon when the mug was removed.
"I know you want more, Jasper."
Yes, he wanted more. He wanted all of it.
"Now, time to pay the price for the next gulp."
Jasper had already glimpsed at the neat row of different objects on the trolley. He wondered what Edward was going to use first. Seeing what his Maestro picked, Jasper felt the first wave of eager anticipation. It was something he loved. The clamps, right.
His thoughts were loud. His solid erection spoke even louder.
"Well, you happen to enjoy these?" A full smile was plastered on Edward's lips. The first clip of the pair bit into Jasper's nipple and he groaned. "Oh, let the music begin." Edward waved an imaginary baton. "Aren't you a lovely instrument! Here, have a sip."
The mug was presented for a second time. It was just another little gulp then the amazing liquid was taken away again.
Click, the next metal bite burned his other nipple before Jasper had swallowed.
A tug at the chain between the clamps followed. "Let's make sure these are tight enough." Jasper emitted a short grunt, and Edward smiled wider. "G-flat. That's low. I love it." He tugged once again.
"Nice. I can hear you are enjoying it."
I am. And I'm thirsty.
"Not so quick, Jasper."
Fuck.
"Yeah, that I will, eventually. But we have to get you ready first, right? Here, have another sip."
Edward picked the next item from the trolley.
"Pay attention."
Jasper did what he was told although it was now so hard to concentrate. He paid attention to the way Edward licked his lips. He paid attention to the twitch in the nerve under Edward's eye, an omen of something wicked coming up.
The third clamp clicked over that delicate tubular patch of skin which hid the tip of Jasper's uncircumcized cock. It clasped in protection and restraint of the bulging head, but didn't stop the little leak of precome, and it was heavy. The bite hurt and stung and distracted Jasper from observing the other man's retreat.
Edward neared the wall and reached for the hook where the double end of the rope was fastened. He undid the knot—loosening more than a foot from the ropes' length—and tied it up again. Now that the ropes were longer, Jasper tried to let his arms fall beside his body, but they only went halfway down. He was not released, not relieved, but more like crucified. Then came the command, "Sit on your heels." Jasper lowered himself on his knees then sat back, and his arms stretched fully above his head once again. Only then, in contact with the cold harshness of the unforgiving floor on his kneecaps, did Jasper remember that this part of the floor was covered with stainless steel.
"Position your knees wider."
Jasper obeyed wordlessly. With that came the realization: the weight hanging down from the third clamp was actually a magnet—a strong one. It snapped to the floor with real force.
He knew what this meant. The elasticity of the skin down there wasn't endless. Jasper couldn't move an inch even if he wanted to; his mind desperately began sending signals of full immobilization to his limbs. A slight shift and his cock was going to be torn off, or so he managed to convince himself. Through his lips came a low, anxious whine, a sobbing under another unneeded breath, barely audible. Then came a long, louder sniff which contained both his excitement and terror.
"Your nerves are singing for me," Edward said and crossed his arms in front of his torso. "And you're so beautiful, in flawless suspension."
Jasper had always thought Edward was the beautiful one. Even more now with that vibrant inspiration etched on his pale face, contrasting to his long-sleeved black turtleneck, black leather pants, and boots, and with his eyes that had turned pitch black with his type of hunger, too.
Through Edward's nose came a sound, a sharp intake of air as if he was angry, but he wasn't. He waved his virtual baton.
"Open your mouth," he ordered calmly. "Wider."
Jasper obeyed, kneeling, mouth open wide, staring, as his Maestro slowly undid the buttons of his leather pants. Another contrast caught his eye, that triangular patch of skin which widened with the pop of each button until Edward's cock sprang free—so pale and perfect—and filled his lungs with desire.
"I'm going to fuck your mouth now," Edward announced and stepped closer. "What's your color?"
Greener than green, Jasper mentally projected, knowing Edward would naturally register the unspoken answer. So far, with the smell of blood in the room, the thirst prevailed, but there was also arousal surrounding what he had to do to earn the next precious gulp. He actually loved to suck cock, and Edward probably already knew that.
What Jasper didn't expect was the suddenness of the impact. In one swift movement, the head of Edward's cock hit the back of his throat and almost shook his whole body. Jasper panicked for a moment, remembering the delicate state he was in, what ruining his equilibrium meant. He shouldn't allow it. So he braced himself and froze, slightly closing his lips to form the exact circle to fit Edward's size, and remained perfectly still when Edward started moving.
The vigor in Edward's thrusts grew and grew. Like the waves of the ocean in a storm, aiming to undermine the base of a seashore fortress, Edward's cock assaulted and raided. But the foundations of Jasper's endurance were solid, and he never flinched. When Edward surprisingly stopped, it was to praise him. "Amazing; you're amazing."
He drank his next dose of blood with pride.
"Aren't you an ungrateful slave?" Edward barked, unexpectedly.
Jasper stared in dismay. What the fuck …
"Don't you dare curse!"
This still didn't make sense.
"You forgot to thank me, slave!"
"Oh, thank you," Jasper hurried. Still, the mug with the straw was taken away.
"Thank you, what?" Edward's tone was acerbic.
"Thank you, Maestro," Jasper remembered.
But it was too late. Edward's palm grabbed at the chain that had been resting on his chest and tugged sharply. It was such a strong pull that Jasper's body arched forward until the clamps released his upper body with two consecutive, startling clicks.
Then came the pain from the rush of blood in his nipples, and then the agony of the tension from where he was anchored to the steel floor.
Was it moments, or was it eternity, he couldn't tell. Edward had gone somewhere then returned and circled his shaking slave, stopping behind his back.
"Twack!"
That was a cane, Jasper realized. His body arched, again; his cock stretched, the skin there burning, burning, and with the onslaught of pain, his mind neared unconsciousness.
"Twack!"
… the world was a pine forest set on fire, his inner eye focused on the eruption of sparks at each fall of tree after tree …
"Twack!"
… the rain of burning pine needles stinging on his skin, on his suffering, nearly torn cock, straight to the underside of his being ...
"Twack!"
… ummmmmh ...
Edward recognized the tune of euphoria he knew so well from all the nights he had unintentionally eavesdropped. The sound Jasper made was so soft it bordered on the extent of vampiric hearing. Still, Edward knew, his slave hummed in delirious content. So he stopped the blows and approached the kneeling figure, placing a palm on the bare shoulder.
"That's the kind of music I needed to play on you, Jasper."
Then he released his slave's cock from the grip of the third clamp.
The only thing Jasper could think of was how much he loved his Maestro at that moment. He would kiss his feet. Hell, he would even sing for him, any tune, in any pitch. He'd do anything to thank him for ending the searing pain.
And he loved him even more because his Maestro was now squatting behind him, caressing his skin, fondling the sides of his slender waist, which looked even thinner now that his arms were in the air.
"You're delicate," Edward murmured lazily in his ear. "Only four blows and your back is in blossom. You look lovely."
Thank you, Maestro, Jasper thought, deliberately structuring his sentence.
Edward was pleased, really pleased.
"What color?" he asked, hoping they were nowhere near red yet.
"Green," Jasper answered although his erection was long gone.
"Let's go on then," Edward declared, the jovial excitement reappearing in his tone. "Stand."
The trolley was brought closer. Jasper was so happy to see the straw coming up to his lips again. He sucked gratefully until there was no more. The empty mug was taken away.
Then a bulbous glass object of irregular form was taken up and waved in front of his face. Jasper recognized it as one of his favorite plugs, a thing of beauty he had somehow forgotten about for the last few years.
"Let's get you ready now," Edward whispered in his ear.
Lube was smeared over Jasper's hole, two fingers breached and scissored inside his body, then the plug slipped in, slowly, slowly, slowly, until it rested at the deepest, as if it had returned home after a long journey. Jasper sighed and knew his excitement was coming back.
When Edward fell to his knees in front of him, Jasper couldn't believe his eyes.
"My good slave will be rewarded," Edward smirked.
Jasper's erection sprang to life. When his Maestro's lips surrounded his cock, he really felt like singing.
In only a minute or two, he was going to come only from looking at Edward's mesmerizing face and pink lips, and the suction, oh, it was becoming too much … Oh, shit ... oh, shit …
He came in his Maestro's mouth, semen pumping out, pumping, pumping … oh, shit … am I in trouble?
He wasn't really. Edward didn't answer. He stood up, a smile on his face. His tongue peaked from the corner of his mouth and licked a drop of come from his upper lip. Then he bent forward and pressed his lips to Jasper's, his tongue making its way forward and making Jasper's lips part. This wasn't exactly a kiss, Jasper realized. It was a transfer of bodily fluids—his semen mixed with Edward's venom, and it tasted intoxicating.
"Swallow," his Maestro commanded. Jasper didn't hesitate.
And then Edward stood behind his back and pushed his upper body forward as far as the restraints allowed with Jasper's arms twisted backward. His Maestro grabbed hold of the plug base and pulled. As soon as the glass vacated the passage, it was filled with cold, hard flesh. Strong hands gripped his hips, and then Edward was fucking him, fucking him, fucking, fucking … Jasper's figure rocked forward with each thrust. His body grew heavier against the ropes. He wondered how much his arms would withstand; maybe his shoulders would pop out eventually but he didn't care because he loved this: the way he was stretched, upside down and from the inside out, with the huge cock Edward had moving inside him.
"That's right, push back on me. You make the most beautiful sound impaling yourself on me as deep as possible, on the brink of snapping your arms against those ropes. You're perfect; the resonance is perfect."
Edward was bent, talking in his ear. Something incredibly good was happening, so pleasant, soft even, so unlike vampires' clashing bodies. He realized Edward was kissing his neck and the lobe of his ear.
"Yellow!" Jasper screamed, and Edward froze, startled. Jasper froze too and couldn't utter a word more.
"What's going on, Jasper? Talk to me?" Edward's length slipped out of the tight passage of Jasper's ass. The fucking seemed to have ended.
"No, no, no, please don't stop. Fuck me, Maestro, please." Jasper was whispering frantically. "Just, don't kiss me, please."
His hands were suddenly freed and his body carried to a leather sofa.
And thank God, Edward was fucking him again, pressing a palm on the back of his head, smashing his face against the creaking material. Another hand squeezed his thigh and held him in place so he wouldn't jump from the force of each thrust.
He loved this.
I love this, Jasper thought and tried to emit the emotion at the same time.
He was a ragdoll in Edward's arms, cradled again then roughly tossed on his back, his knees suspended in the air by sinewy, rock-hard forearms, his entrance breached once again with unearthly force. He looked in his Maestro's eyes, to whose possession he now surrendered himself, voluntarily, body and soul. He chose to let himself be ruled without a reward for the pure ecstasy of the pain-play, for the knowledge of being at someone else's mercy.
I'm your possession.
With his words came Edward's release, his last thrusts accompanied by an inhuman wail.
Then Jasper was tossed once again and placed on his knees. He couldn't escape the hold of Edward's arms and the brief kiss that came eventually. Testing the waters, Edward pushed between Jasper's lips with his tongue but retracted immediately—Jasper had hissed at him.
Still in the mindset of the slave, Jasper felt guilt overwhelm him. He sobbed, grieving for the lost friction. The intense black eyes of his Maestro pinned him like a dead butterfly on display. A hand caressed his shoulder, then held tight, and another hand squeezed his erection. Their gazes remained locked while the cold hand on his shaft moved, only a couple times; it took two or three strokes and the pool of boiling lava in his groin finally erupted.
He collapsed into his Maestro's arms, sobbing uncontrollably, gasping, shaking.
"Alice … she'll see this, see us kissing," Jasper whispered when he gained control over his vocal chords. "I promised her I wouldn't get attached. She'll forgive my red eyes, but falling for you, never."
A hand grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck and tugged until his head was jerked to an almost impossible angle.
"Shut up, Jasper. You want this. You need this, and she can't give it to you, ever. And no one can give me what you just did. Owning you, owning your powerful body, orchestrating the impulse which runs your system, it brings incredible contentment. It soothes me, which was the general idea. And remember, we're never going to be lovers. This is just a temporary arrangement, a play. I won't let you get attached."
Jasper knew Edward was right. But he found himself pacing across the dungeon, still naked, mindlessly touching different objects hanging from the walls. None of them were frightening him; what was frightening was that he liked being with Edward too much. And he was going to miss him after the child was born because that was their deal: until Bella gave birth.
There was one more thing to it though, something that made what they'd shared really incredible. He had experienced it all through his own and Edward's emotions. He'd been assigned the role of the slave but had felt every aspect of being the master, the Maestro, empathically.
Being ruled and ruling at the same time.
Being fucked and fucking at the same time.
And Edward, he'd experienced it all too, by reading his mind.
We're unique.
His pacing went on and on in front of his silent observer who was the frustrated one earlier, but not any more.
Finally, Jasper sat on the floor with his back turned on Edward and hugged his knees. He tried to radiate acceptance and consent and waited.
Edward looked at the curled shape, an embryo from which the familiar, powerful Jasper Cullen would be reborn after a few hours of recuperation. But right now, Jasper looked small, fragile, defenseless. Lovable. Edward scooped the delicate frame and placed it gently on the sofa.
"Enough for today." Edward drew his thumb over the cold bare shoulder one last time. "Have some rest."
The Maestro ascended the stairs slowly, waiting for a sound, or a thought, but none came. He stopped at the dungeon door and turned. Jasper was looking at him with unblinking, red eyes and a barely visible smirk.
"I'm an experienced and indestructible vampire, remember that, Maestro."
Edward shrugged and allowed a little smile.
"See you tomorrow then, slave."
~The End~
A/N Comments will be highly appreciated.
I think I may write a sequel but that very much depends on your feedback.
(That's not blackmail, I'm just being honest.)