This fic is inspired by a song, of course… You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift. A near and dear to my heart plot bunny for months now, I wanted to save it for something special. Or someone special…
So I wrote this story for harrytwifan for her birthday. Happy Birthday my dearest friend! Thank you for being my beta and so much more!
Not only did bellemeer preread this, but she also stepped in to beta it seeing as harrytwifan couldn't beta her own birthday fic. Thank you hon! I then added to it a bit, couldn't leave it alone really, so any mistakes are my own.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything Twilight. This story contains boy/boy lovin' of all sorts so please do not read if you don't like that sort-of thing. And you must be 18!
You Belong With Me
Jpov
He is so beautiful. Even like this, distraught as he is. Again. Fucking always. Because of her. His girlfriend in whom I have no idea what he sees.
I've only ever seen him. Only him. So I could never fathom what he might see in any girl. But Bella? Head cheerleader, bitch on wheels? She doesn't get him, doesn't understand him. She doesn't care to and never will. He is just a thing to be achieved to secure her 'most popular' status.
We're supposed to be studying tonight, yet he's stuck on the phone with her in some petty argument, once again. Senior year is kicking our asses with our AP/College credit classes, especially Edward as he's also so busy with football and being head quarterback football star.
Yet he always has time for me. For three years he has, ever since my first day freshman year. Fresh from Texas, new to the school, Edward befriended me and hasn't left my side since. More outgoing than me, friendlier, amazing in every way. Yet, I've always come first. Even now, with Bella's talons sunk in him so deep that he doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground.
… And she hates me because of it. With a passion that even her fake smile and designer makeup can't hide.
He says he's fine, but I know him better than that. The mirth drains slowly from him right before my eyes; I'm helpless to do anything to stop it. Except be here to pick him up when he's down. Like I did the other night when he drove to my house in the middle of the night, upset and confused about something.
But what?
He didn't even know what it was he needed. So we sat up talking and I soon had him laughing instead of crying.
Yet I remain helpless to do anything except wait for the day he realizes that he belongs with me. Except dream about the day he wakes up and finds that what he's looking for has been right here in front of him the whole time.
I can't help but stare at him most of the time; tonight is no exception. As gorgeous as he is, pacing with his free hand alternating between pinching the bridge of his nose and running through his tousled auburn hair, I'd rather see that smile of his. The elusive breathtaking smile that lights up this whole town, but rarely appears now, only when it's just him and me lost in our time together.
He doesn't realize when he does it - smiles at me like I'm the only person on the planet. And he certainly doesn't realize that it happens less and less the more time he spends with her.
I don't know how much longer I can take seeing him like this. Seeing him so unhappy when I know with every cell in my buzzing body exactly what he needs.
Bored with my constant musing and with the sound of his groans and pleas with her to cease their latest argument, I turn the music up, the country music I know she hates. He shoots me a look and I can't tell if it's annoyance or gratitude because sure enough he drops the phone and hangs his head.
She's hung up on him. Again.
When his eyes find my concerned gaze they are appreciative. He mouths the words, "Thank you", before visibly shaking off his distress and turning his cell off. He does this more and more; I can't deny how the action comforts me. Gives me some hope that he could one day be mine.
We resume studying as if nothing has happened, yet the light never returns to his eyes.
If I'm patient I hope he will eventually see.
See where he belongs.
That he belongs with me.
...
Fuck, it's cold. Even for October. I sit by his back door on his back deck waiting for him, same as I always do on the nights he goes out with Bella.
Shivering, I sip on the beer I snuck from Pa's stash in the back of the fridge. Edward won the game tonight and took her to the weekly party at McCartney's. Sometimes I tag along, but I just wasn't up for it tonight, much to Bella's happiness. She didn't even attempt to hide her glee at my absence as she wiggled her skinny little ass in her too short cheerleader skirt, nearly causing me to lose the contents of my stomach.
She knows how I feel about him; I know she does.
I can't even bring myself to care.
To pass the time while I wait for him, I remember how he looked last night in his sexy as hell worn out jeans. We'd ended up in the park on our bench again, just shootin' the shit; laughing and joking around before one of our easy silences settled between us.
Just sitting. Just thinking. No words necessary.
When he finally spoke his voice cracked with emotion, the words sticking in his throat, his eyes searching mine for confirmation...
"She doesn't love me…"
"I know," was my honest reply.
I'm jolted back to the present when he falls up the deck's steps, slurring his words.
"Jassy… buddy. Waitin' for me. Again. Always there for me. My Jasper."
This is Edward drunk… really fucking drunk. He only drinks when he's upset and I've never seen him this bad off.
What did she do now?
I help him into the house and up to his room. Thank god his folks aren't yet home from the party they attended.
"Jasper… you're such a good friend… Love you, dude," he yells, stumbling about his room attempting to remove his clothes.
Fuck. I try to look away, I always do, but eventually he's naked and I can't. And then he's leaning on me, in my arms, his bare skin burning me with its heat.
As my dick swells in my jeans I curse myself under my breath.
Eventually, I get him settled in his bed, breathing a sigh of relief when he's covered up with his comforter.
"I love you, Jasper," he whispers, just before passing out.
I toss and turn on his futon that is my bed, as much as is the bed in my own room in my own house, but finally the inevitable happens.
My eyes settle on his sleeping form.
A calm settles over me.
I can't help but watch him; the moonlight falling across his face, alighting on his beautiful features. He moans in his fitful sleep and I can almost imagine it's my name that passes his plump lips.
And then it is.
"Jasper…"
It's unmistakable.
He's just drunk, or maybe I am.
His body is again exposed to me as he kicks the comforter down around his feet.
He is beautiful.
It is beautiful.
His cock; long and thick, lying to the side across his hip bone, is so fucking beautiful.
His hand reaches down to languidly stroke there before he exhales my whispered name on a sigh and settles back to snoring.
Did that just happen? It couldn't have. I was hearing things. Imagining. Wasn't I?
But maybe I wasn't.
That thought has me reaching into my boxers, wrapping my hand around my own aching cock. And I can't stop from fondling myself, bucking into my hand as I watch him sleep, studying every inch of the body that I so badly need to touch. To taste.
Within minutes I'm painting my stomach and chest with my essence, my cock erupts with an earth shattering climax. Panting and writhing, I desperately try not to call out his name.
But I do.
And for a just a second as I come down from the stars, my gaze locks briefly with his, before his eyes flutter shut once more.
...
It's been weeks since that night.
It's as if it didn't happen.
Maybe it didn't. I can't be sure.
I sit here in the bleachers watching him gracefully evade one tackle attempt after another. It's the last game of the season and Edward has taken our school to the play-offs again.
Touchdown!
The crowd erupts with yells and cheers, chanting his name as if they think he is the god that I know him to be. But someone takes him down as he stands there holding the ball in the air and looking for my spot in the bleachers, like he does after every touchdown. An overzealous lineman from the other team that doesn't realize the play is over, or simply doesn't care.
Edward hits the ground hard; I swear the sound of it reaches my ears over the gasp of the crowd. And then there is only silence as everyone holds their breath.
Watching.
Waiting.
But he doesn't move. He doesn't move a muscle.
I'm not sure how I make it down to the field, but somehow I'm beside him with his parents and the team doctor, and the coaches… and the ambulance.
All that I can register is that he still hasn't moved and he's being taken away in that ambulance, and my face is wet with the tears I hadn't known I was crying.
I'm still standing on the field as someone takes my hand and pulls me to the parking lot. Someone else who is crying and leaning on me in the back seat of her father's police car as we drive to the hospital.
Bella.
We sit in the waiting room together. She never lets go of my hand as our now silent tears fall for hours or days. Maybe just minutes. I don't know.
Because time stands still as we wait for news with what seems like the entire fucking town crammed in around us, whispering words of life flights to Seattle, to hospitals better equipped to handle such injuries.
My Edward.
I've never told him how I truly feel.
If something happens to him I will cease to exist.
Suddenly his mother is standing in front of me, pulling me into a hug, yet I refuse to let go of Bella's hand. I finally pull back to look at Esme's face, afraid of what I'll see, but she is smiling the smallest of smiles. Her eyes speak of relief. And Edward's father's words begin to sink in as he tells the packed waiting room that Edward is slowly regaining consciousness. He's going to be fine.
Concussion.
Broken collar bone.
But he's going to be okay.
I slump into Bella as we cry happy tears.
"Jasper, dear… Edward is asking for you. He's in and out of consciousness, but the doctors feel it would be best to give him what he's asking for," his mother's gentle words beckon me to follow her.
I look to the girl beside me whose hand I still grasp. The girl that has held me together through all of this. Whom I realize I'm just now truly seeing for the first time. With her red-rimmed eyes full of happiness for our Edward's health, but sadness for his heart that she needs as I do.
I look to her. Not for permission to go to him. No. Nothing can keep me from him now or ever. But for acceptance and understanding.
Which she gives freely.
"Go to him, Jasper. He belongs with you."
His mother leads me to the step-down ICU. I find him with a bandage around his head and his arm and chest wrapped tightly laying in a bed looking so pale and fragile. He looks terrible yet has never looked so good to me before. His eyes flutter open, barely letting his vibrant greens peak through, searching until they find my teary gaze. Holding out his good hand he reaches for me and I'm instantly at his side, carefully holding his hand.
"You gave us quite a scare," is all I can manage to squeak out without breaking down and crawling onto the bed with him.
"I was looking for you and the next thing I knew I was here. And you weren't. I was scared."
"I was here, Edward. Wherever you are... I'm here. I'm always here. You know this. "
He smiles and nods, squeezing my hand as he drifts back to sleep.
He's broken. Vulnerable. I stand by watching him sleep and make a promise to myself... a promise to help him recover, and then to tell him how I feel.
Carlisle appears beside me. I see his inquisitive gaze take in how I hold his son's hand. It doesn't matter. No one is taking me away from him again.
His father asks, "He's on some heavy pain killers, son… but can you sit with him for a while?"
Of course.
And that's exactly what I do. I sit with him at the hospital the couple of days he's there. When he gets back home, I sit with him in his room every minute that I can when I'm not in school. Forcing myself to go home some nights so that my Ma doesn't miss me too much is painful, but I realize I can't be with him all of the time. Even though I want to.
I begin to wonder if he feels my absence as heavily as I feel his when I'm not there with him. He seems desperate when it's time for me to go, and he lights up when I come back. Every time.
One day when I get to him after doing some chores around my house, he tells me that Bella stopped by. They talked and ended things. She ended things and was so sorry she'd wasted months of their lives trying to force something that just wasn't meant to be.
"I was wrong, Jasper. She does love me. I just don't love her. I never did. I was the one that wasted all those months trying to be with her when I really wanted someone else. When I love someone else."
Trying to swallow the lump that has suddenly formed in my throat, I wait for him to say who it is that he wants, that he loves. I need him to say it, but at the same time I fear his words if it isn't my name that he says.
It should be me. I know this. But does he?
"Jasper…" is all he manages before my lips are on his. In just my name he says it all. It tells of all that we have, and of all that we can now be.
Of lust and desire.
Of need.
Of love.
And I tell him right back with my lips that barely graze his warm soft ones, and with my hands in his hair where they've so often longed to be. Our kisses quickly change from tender and tentative to fervored and needy. And then his tongue is against mine. I moan into his mouth, long and deep. A moan nearly matched by his.
We kiss and talk and cuddle for hours.
His accident scared us both so damned much. It scared me into finally telling him how I feel, how I've felt all this time since first I set eyes on him and he graced me with his unwavering kindness and friendship. It scared him into admitting to himself that he feels more for me than just friendship. So much more.
His headaches and healing collar bone keep us from moving too fast too soon, if there is such a thing for two boys who have had each other's hearts long before each other knew it. We fall easily into being boyfriends, kissing and cuddling the only added ingredients to the relationship we already had.
When the day comes that Edward can return to school, I carry his books and help him to every class as I would have before, only now our eyes linger and our fingers graze.
As everything does in Forks, our new status spreads like wild fire, with quite the resulting anticlimax. Not many seem surprised and most accept us, thanks to Edward and his can-do-no-wrong status.
We don't attempt to hide it, just try not to flaunt it. Which means I only hold his hand under the table at lunch. I only kiss him goodbye the few times we must part ways throughout the day if the hallway is mostly empty.
It's okay, considering that each afternoon after school we make up for denying our need for physical contact the rest of the day. When his house is empty for hours before his parents arrive home from work, we grab a snack and go to bed. At first he needs to rest, taking some Motrin and falling asleep in my arms after some kissing, and maybe a little touching.
But he's a strong boy and his head and his collar bone heal quickly. His strength and stamina return and soon he needs me and my body in his hands and in his mouth instead of a nap after school each day.
The first time we jack each other off is incredible. The sight of him coming undone at my hands makes me come undone in his.
The first time I hold both of our erections in my fist as I hump him, hovering over him, is phenomenal. We lose control quickly, cumming together, calling each other's name into open gasping mouths. And it's then that I really let myself imagine fucking him. Making love to him. We almost do a number of times, but the time is never right. He deserves it to be perfect. So we wait.
But we don't wait for anything else. We don't wait to explore each other's most secret spots with our fingers and tongues.
We don't wait to learn how our cocks feel in the moist heat of the other's mouth, how cum tastes when savored.
Finally tonight we wait no more for what we both are ready to do, need to do.
Tonight we will make love for the first time.
My parents are out of town. His think we're going with friends to see a band in Port Angeles. Bella, being one of them, has agreed to cover for us.
My attempt at a romantic dinner is weak seeing as I don't cook much, but Edward loves my mac and cheese and chicken nuggets. Once we've eaten, we sit down to watch a movie to calm our nerves but barely make it ten minutes before our clothes are off and we're stumbling up the stairs to my bedroom. He is gorgeous and finally mine and I struggle to go slowly being as hard as am, as ready as I am.
He pulls me to the bed and down on top of him, kissing my neck and the sensitive spot just below my ear that makes me tremble and moan and whimper his name. He feels so good beneath me, our bodies moving and grinding.
I beg him to stop, to slow down, "Baby… please. Slow down. Need you. But I'll cum before I'm even inside you."
"Fuck, baby, need you, too… so much. Jasper… please," he moans as I kiss my way down his body, passing up his leaking cock and tightening balls, him moaning a protest as I do. But soon his moans become those of ecstasy as I find his insides with my tongue and then fingers, preparing him for what he needs the most.
Once I've had my fill of his ass in my mouth, of its gentle grip enveloping my fingers, he puts the condom on my length and helps me apply the lube.
I enter him, between kisses, so slowly it hurts me in a good way, my boy not so much.
Despite the pain, he doesn't let me stop until my thighs press against his ass, his legs opening for me, around me.
He doesn't let me stop until I'm all the way in his tight heat. I almost cum right then before we even begin. So we wait for me to regain control and for his pain to subside.
And I do; it does.
He is below me mumbling, pulling me close, kissing me between sighs. Our initial slow pace quickly becomes faster. Pumping into him harder, I try to stroke the spot inside him that I've found with my fingers while trying not to cum because he feels so damn good. I can tell when I find it as he tenses below me, strains to meet me, begging me not to stop.
I almost lose my tenuous control when I look down between our stomachs at his rigid erection, dripping pre-cum between us.
"Stroke yourself, baby. Please… cum for me now."
I breathe a sigh of relief when he obeys my plea, amazed by his raw beauty as he cums between us mere seconds after grasping his cock; the message of his orgasm beckoning mine, so long and sweet. Crying out his name and my love for him, I hold him to me.
When we've cleaned up, we crawl back into bed and into each other's arms, mindful of the time we have left before we're expected back from the concert. Never enough times like this, yet we feel nothing but appreciation for the 'we' that we've become.
That he belongs with me.
That I belong with him.
That we belong with each other.
And so we shall be.
Happy Birthday bb! Little did you know all your inspiring pics were going towards your birthday, lol.
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