The Red Glove
Plot bunny: 26 August 2010
E/J
AN: Edward is American, Jasper is English. Read dialogue as appropriate. Written 1st person in alternating EPOV JPOV This was inspired by an episode of Torchwood, as I liked the way the characters interacted.

Thanks to my village of beta and pre-readers, kbnightingale, vampireisthenewblack and rhenea5018

I was racing against the wind. My heart thumping loudly in my ears as my feet pounded the pavement.

Run to him. Run to him.

My mantra went over and over through my head as I pushed myself to the limit. He called me. He called me. It had been so very long since I had seen him.

Run to him. Run to him.

The trees that lined the avenue whistled as I ran past. The buildings were a blur and the only sound in the air was the slapping of my soles against the harsh unforgiving concrete.

Run to him. Run to him.

I rounded the corner and there it was. The Junction. The bar where we first met.

My still racing heart calmed. Oxymoron but there it was. That sense of calm when I knew he was not far away. I forced my feet to slow and took deep lungfuls of air. Sedately, I walked down the stairs and entered the bar where I knew he was waiting.

There he stood. Like out of a long forgotten movie he stood there in his long dark trench coat, leaning against the bar, waiting for me. I knew he was waiting for me. I could see it in his stance. He was there. For me. No-one else.

Jasper Whitlock.

"Hullo," he threw out casually, looking straight in front of him. "Took you long enough to get here. What were you doing that was more important than doing me, eh?"

Slowly, I walked toward him. God, he was as beautiful as I remembered him. "A man can be busy, you know. Not everyone drops their pants when you call."

His teeth showed as he grinned at me, "Oh, I dunno. Seems I recall several times that you'd do just that. Wrap your fingers around yourself to the sound of my voice. Wank yourself off. Good times."

I choked on that. "Jasper..."

"Edward," he mocked. A glass raised towards me in greeting before its contents found their way down his throat. "Ah, nothing like a good, stiff one."

Trying to always get a rise out of me. Good old Jasper. Well, it was working. He was always so capable of doing that. In bed. Out of bed. In the boardroom. On my desk. In the back seat. And the front. I could feel myself getting harder just from the memories. No, I had to stop that train of thought. I continued walking toward him.

"You've changed your hair," he remarked, as I got closer.

"You've changed your sexual preference," I returned, my fingers touching his hair, willing him to turn toward me.

Matter-of-factly, he stated, "You haven't."

Softly, I said, "I came for you."

"I used to do that all that time, you know," he quipped lightly, "usually on you."

My hand brushed against the collar of his cloak. What was this? "What are you wearing?"

His head turned and glanced slyly at me. "Do you like it? I thought it was very Neo-like. What is The Jastrix? Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

I cocked my head to the side as I questioned, "Oh I know what is The Jastrix. I've seen it before. This is very Mister Anderson."

He guffawed, a wry smile upon his face, "You always did have a thing for..." He moved until his cheek was against mine and his lips were at my ear. His voice lowered, jaw moving enticingly against my skin as he spoke, "...Mister Anderson."

My toes curled in my boots. Damn, he was good. I almost came from his voice alone. It wouldn't have been the first time if I had.

"Why are you here?" I questioned him, stopping his advances.

"That's a very good question." I didn't miss the way his eyes sidled away as if he didn't want to say the truth to me. "Maybe I missed you. Maybe I am on a holiday. Or maybe I thought I'd turn up before you made a colossal fool of yourself in front of that entire church tomorrow."

I could feel the heat emanating from his body. And it felt good. So very good. My cock twitched. Damn.

Carefully formulating my answer, I circled around him, trying to buy myself some time. He was ignoring me, as he tends to do when he's anxious about the answer. "I'm guessing Emmett told you. What were you intending to do about it?"

His laugh was cynical, yet he still would not turn towards me. It was frustrating. What was he hiding? "Ah, the typical Edwardian response. Always asking a question rather than answering it outright. Tell me, do you really want to embarrass yourself like that?"

Non-committally, I answered, "I'll do what I have to."

"And you think that's the best plan? You know what they say about the best laid plans..."

I reached forward, placing my palm against the back of his neck, and felt the warmth beneath my skin. "Yes. You were always the best. Laid."

Smile not quite reaching his eyes, he looked at me and leaned in. "So you agree then? The best plan would not be you, me and a church. It would involve me, you and this bar."

His lips brushed against the outer shell of my ear and I shuddered when I felt his breath wash over me, sending tingling feelings down my spine and a moan from my lips. I felt elation flood through me as I heard his sharp intake of breath. Then the slowly released groan and shuddering breath sent shivers down my spine in a cock tingling sort of way.

My God that was good, so infinitely good.

Desperately, I turned my head into the crook of his neck. For one brief moment, I moaned against his skin, "Jasper..." before our lips crashed together, hands roving, scrambling for purchase as our hurried, frenzied movements showed anyone who was interested what exactly was going to occur tonight. I swept my tongue along his bottom lip and was met by the thrust of his tongue into my open and willing mouth.

He tasted like whisky: hot, sultry and achingly delicious. I wanted more. My hands gripped his face as my mouth claimed his in earnest; his hands gripped my hips as he ground against me. That constant movement, the friction he created, made me hard. Fucking hard. Or rather, ready to fuck hard.

I wanted nothing more than to strip him bare, run my tongue, my lips, my mouth over his naked body, tasting all that bare flesh before running my tongue over his ass and around that puckered entrance, preparing the way for the invasion of my cock. I was going to have him again. I was. It had been too long already.

My hips rocked purposely against him and he moaned. Loudly.

The sound of him so turned on brought me close to losing it. In sheer desperation to control myself, I slid my tongue down that gorgeous column of his throat. So familiar, so natural, so comfortable, in both taste and scent. I breathed his glorious aroma in: tobacco, spice, whisky and something inherently male and only Jasper. Distinctive. Aromatic. Silken. Warm skin against mine. Tautness under the ministrations of my tongue. Excitedly, I drew circles in his skin as I made my way down towards his collar. Delicious. Tasty. Homely. Jasper. Whitlock. Mine.

"Edward... oh fuck Edward... oh God... Fuck... Edward..."

The groans that issued from his mouth were almost like little exclamation marks, punctuation for each caress of my tongue, each sweep of my lips and every stroke of my fingers. I delighted in those groans. I exulted in them. I breathed and immersed myself in every single one of those barely-there gasps and moans.

"Edward..."

I ran my tongue along his windpipe and suckled on his Adam's apple.

"Fuck, Edward..."

I nibbled along his collar bone and back up to his jaw. Beautiful long fingers clutched at my shoulders when my lips, licking, nipping, sucking, from chin to ear and back again, traversed every pore of the bare skin that was available to me.

Imagery from memories intruded upon my awareness as his hand sought my crotch, his fingers divested me of any barrier between his palm and my hardened length.

He always had liked having me in his hand. In the alleyway behind our apartment, at the movie theatre, in the cab, always at the ready. Just like now.

Zipper opened, boxers lowered and my cock twitched in the palm of his hand. God, the heat of his contact against my skin sent a jolt through my body and I threw my head back to stare mutely, unseeing, at the ceiling, intent only on feeling his hand lightly squeezing then releasing, stroking and soothing as I got harder, wanting more, wanting to release, and everything there tightened, all my blood running in a southerly direction, to where my cock was throbbing beneath his encouragement and patronage.

But it was the sheer sensuality of his heated mutterings against my ear, and his palm moving slowly along me, that stirred and incited the previously smouldering ashes of pure lust for this man to flare into a heated blaze, running rampant through my body, like a match to gasoline.

Rocking against him, I chanted his name lowly, alternatively cursing and calling him as he played me like a fine instrument, working me to a frenzy until my balls were so tight I thought I would explode with the need to be inside him. I had enough and I told him so.

"Fuck you, Jasper Whitlock," I cursed hotly against the curve of his neck. "I want to fuck you, be inside you, make you scream my name as I drive my cock into you..."

He was not fazed in the slightest by my words. "Driving was never your strong point. Screaming however..." With a small smile and a deliberate movement, he brushed his thumb over the slit before skimming it around the bulb of my head.

Dear fucking God in heaven, this man is hell-bent on killing me.

I punctuated my next words with my hips, pushing my cock against his hand, "I want you. I want to hear you scream. I want you to hear you scream my name. My name! Fuck!"

I cursed again as his fingers tightened around me in the way he knew I liked and I knew I would come right there. In that bar. Surrounded by people who, if they had half a brain, knew exactly what was going on. My mouth sought his whilst my cock sought release.

"Take it easy, sweetheart. Can't fuck too much with perfection."

"Shut it, Jasper."

"First you get me to open it, now you want me to shut it? Make up your bloody mind. You're like a woman - never knowing what you want right off the bat. Lucky for you I have just the thing to stuff in my gob."

I pulled back to glare at him before yanking his lips to meet mine.

"I said: shut it, Jasper."

With his own muttered oath, he pulled too, yanked my coat around us, hiding anything below my waist, whilst he ravaged my mouth as much as I ravaged his. My cock and my hips continued to rock against him. Fuck I wanted nothing more than him. Just him. Naked. Willing. Coerced. Tied up. I'd take anything at this point.

"You'd take me anyway you could get me right now, wouldn't you?" Jasper smirked at me.

"Well hell yes! I'm not an idiot. I don't look a gift horse in the mouth, you know."

A wry look appeared on his face. "No, you never did. You'd take him by the balls instead."

"That's right," I declared. "After all, it's always how you liked it."

Then he was kneeling before me, his mouth wrapping his glorious and talented lips around the head of my cock and I thought the stars exploded behind my eyes.

Gripping the side of the bar with tense fingers, I came, a hiss leaving my mouth all the while my hips were jerking. My entire body shuddered as I released way down his throat.

It was a bit like heaven.

I jerked to a stop however, as I felt it. I opened my eyes slowly, looking down at my lover when he released my quickly subsiding cock from his lips and held the cold muzzle of a gun against a very intimate part of me. One I treasured so very much.

Wiping his mouth, he looked up at me. "Sorry, love. You won't be turning up tomorrow. I can't let you."

"Jasper..."

"No, Edward." He stood up, but left my pants undone and I suddenly felt very vulnerable. A bit like the day he told me he was leaving me.

"Why are you doing this, Jasper?"

"Why do you care?"

"I care! You know I do! You can't leave it like this. You just can't!"

"Oh, but I am, love. Leaving it like this. Open boxers and all. Can't trust you to not run after me so downtrou-ing you is the next best thing." His palm curved around my cheek just before he pulled my pants all the way down to my ankles.

I looked deep into his eyes. My voice low and hoarse, I whispered urgently, "I have to go to the church. You know that. It's just how I am. I can't leave it."

His eyes searched mine for a long moment before he snapped, "Well, I can't have you turning up and fucking things up now, can I? Sorry, love, it's just not the most appropriate thing to happen at a wedding you know. Having my former lover turn up out of the blue. Just... just can't." His eyes closed for a moment before snapping open. "I'm sorry Edward. I'm really sorry."

He started to move away, but I didn't miss the quick jerk of his head to someone behind me.

"What do you mean by that? Jasper? Jasper!"

Arms locked around my shoulders and I struggled against them as he walked away without looking back. A little freaked out, I cast my eyes around desperately and realised too late what he had left me to. The Junction was a not just a bar, it was a special type of bar and judging from the size of the men before me, especially the man who was currently caressing my flaccid cock, I would be very, very sore tomorrow. Damn him! Damn him to hell!

His voice floated back to me as I cursed and struggled.

"I'm already there. Edward. I'm already there."

AN: Well, there's the start... thoughts?